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xorafe · 1 month

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cam girl (part ten)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

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Rafe is on your mind constantly. At this point, you’ve accepted it. There was something about the way he looked at you in his car last night. Possibly. Hopefully.

You stand in a quiet aisle, eyeing merchandise while you hold the charm on the necklace he gave you, the metal warm under your fingertips.

You’d never been in a sex shop before. The guys you hooked up with before Rafe were nowhere near as kinky as him and you bought all the stuff you needed to be a cam girl online.

But seeing all the possibilities makes your stomach twist with excitement. You want to try absolutely everything with Rafe.

You’ve been thinking about coming here throughout all your classes today with one thing in mind. Rafe loves to use toys on you, but you’ve never used anything on him.

With Rafe’s need for control, you assume he won’t be all that open to using a cock ring, but you want to do something special for him. Maybe you can introduce him to something for a change.

You find a vibrating ring that you know will fit him, then decide to send him a photo of the toys in the aisle behind you and text him: this is a great place to meet guys.

Before you’re even at the register, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: dont joke like that

Rafe: buying something for yourself princess?

He sends you $100.

You reply: something like that :)

You check out at the register and head home, already looking forward to tonight. Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: when can i come over?

You smile at your phone.

You: what about our cam session?

You get a notification that he sent $1000. The alert makes you wonder if he thinks you’re just doing all this solely for the money and gifts.

You’d do it all for free.

Rafe: i won’t wait that long

Not just can’t. He won’t.

You reply: like 8ish?

Rafe: ok

It starts to rain close to 8 and when Rafe arrives at your place, his hair is wet and his face and jacket are peppered with raindrops.

“Is the valet not working today?” you joke, knowing full well he had to find street parking on your busy road.

He breathes a chuckle, stepping into your apartment with his usual ease. You’ve noticed that he walks into every room like he owns it.

Rafe shakes off his jacket and places it on the back of one of your kitchen table chairs while you grab a clean hand towel out of your hamper.

“Sorry this towel’s not a million thread count,” you tease, meeting him to dab the towel over his face.

His blue eyes search your face with a hint of something new. Confusion?

You realize you didn’t even think about it; you thoughtlessly started to dry him off. It was such a mechanical response. Your impulse is to take care of him, make him comfortable.

It’s official. This man is not just a fuck buddy to you anymore.

“What?” you ask, knowing you need to crack a joke to break the tension. “I’m just drying off my seat.”

“Oh, my God,” Rafe groans, trying to act annoyed, but you know he’s not. You laugh and lower the towel, squeezing the cotton in your hands.

“What’d you buy?” he asks, clearly eager.

“I’ll show you later. I wanna hear what you have planned,” you say. “You always have something planned.”

“You first,” he says.

“Rafe,” you whine, dropping the towel to rest your hands on his firm shoulders. “Can’t I surprise you for once? What do you want to do to me tonight?”

“I wanna see what you bought,” Rafe solidifies.

You suck your teeth in frustration, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Please?” you breathe. “I’m always the one waiting. Why don’t you wait for once?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens and he shakes his head in disbelief like he can’t believe he’s giving in, but he gives in.

“You ever been tied up?” he finally asks, his voice so deep that it reverberates through you. The air is suddenly thick and any impression of humor that was floating between you has been dismissed by his words.

“Like… bondage?” you say in a short breath, mulling it over as blood rushes to your cheeks. “No. I haven’t.”

He closes the already minuscule distance between you, cradling your jaw in his cool hand.

“I want your hands tied up while I fuck you,” he says. Your mouth goes dry. Just when you think he can’t get any fucking hotter.

Rafe’s hand drops and you hear his belt unbuckling while his hot breath spreads across your cheek.

“Why the fuck are you still dressed?” he rasps. You’re reeling as you strip down to nothing but the necklace he gave you. You hear the clang of his belt buckle falling onto your kitchen table beside you.

Rafe’s hands drag over your hips, pinching down when he turns you to face the other way. He’s still in his boxers, his cock jabbing against your ass. His warm chest is pressed on your back, rising and falling.

“You’re always the one waiting?” he mutters. The belt buckle drags off the table top, and when you feel him roughly grab both your wrists and wrap the thick leather around them, the familiar need for him between your legs aches.

“You’re always waiting,” he repeats with a scoff. “I’m the one who’s always fucking waiting.”

You want to know what he means, but the belt is suddenly tight around your wrists, your chest jutting out. Rafe pushes you by the back of your neck so that your front is down on your table, your cheek flush against the hard plastic.

“Spread your legs,” he orders.

The muscles in your thighs are strained and your hips burn against the hard table from the way he has you bent over. He couldn’t even spare the few seconds to go to your bedroom.

You feel his tip press against you, making you wonder which hole he wants to fuck.

“Beg for it,” he orders. His fingers tighten around the back of your neck. Your arms are already burning from being bound like this.

“Please fuck me,” you moan, lips flanged from how hard your cheek is being pushed against the table.

“Say my fucking name,” he tells you.

“Please, Rafe,” you obey. He groans in response, hands settling on your hips.

He stretches your cunt out so fucking slowly that you want to scream. You push back against him, and you swear, he laughs at your desperation.

Rafe finally bottoms out in you, his hips against your ass. He puts his hand over your bound wrists, starting to drag out again.

“This pussy is fucking mine,” he says. As if you need the reminder. He owns you completely.

When he picks up the pace, driving into you, your breath hitches. With every thrust, your hips grind against the hard table, making you ache in pain.

“Ow,” you snip before you can stop yourself.

Rafe immediately pulls out of you, making you writhe in frustration.

“What hurts?”

“Nothing,” you lie, wanting him more than you want the pain to stop. “Keep going.”

“What hurts?” he repeats sternly.

“My hips,” you admit. “I’m fine, it’s just ‘cause of the table. Please just-”

“I’m not making you cry again,” he snaps. He cups a hand on your shoulder. “Go to your bed.”

“Rafe, it’s fine.” You feel oddly ashamed, like you’re not doing your job pleasing him how he wants you to.

“Go,” he mutters. His hand pulls you up and you have no choice but to let him push you into your bedroom.

Your wrists are still bound at your lower back when he bends you over your bed. You sink onto your stomach, feeling Rafe’s fingers spread you open before driving his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he relentlessly pounds in and out of you. Your arms strain against the constrictions of his belt, the sensations so fucking perfect.

“Shit, I’m…” he groans, and you know he’s close, so you try to tilt up your hips so he can get as deep as possible.

Rafe shakes through his orgasm and you think how you could never tire of this feeling, of being the one he finishes inside of and reaches this feeling with.

He’s panting when he pulls out of you. Your wrists burn against the belt as he loosens it. His hand smooths over your ass before he spanks you and collapses beside you.

“Show me what you bought,” he says. “It better make you cum.” You tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Have an open mind, okay?”

“Damn, what the fuck is it?” Rafe asks with a curious laugh.

You’re sore as you get up on your knees and shift to grab the white ring you already took out of the packaging and placed in your nightstand.

When you settle back on the bed and hold it out in front of him, his brows furrow.

“Is that…?” He can’t finish the sentence, his tone apprehensive.

“It might feel really good,” you say with a small smile. “I got a vibrating one.”

Rafe sits up, glancing down at your purchase before looking up at you again.

“Come on,” you laugh. “You surprise me all the time. I can’t surprise you?”

He clears his throat.

“I don’t know,” he says simply, blinking fast. It sounds like a hard no.

“Oh,” you say. You’re shocked he’s not at least a little open to it, considering how kinky he is. “Okay. Sorry.”

You turn to put the toy away, but his next words stop you.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Fine.”

“Really?” you ask, meeting his eyes again.

“You just look so fucking sad,” he groans.

“You don’t have to do it.”

“Let’s just try it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “After everything I do to you…” You smile in response.

Rafe sits up against the head of your bed frame and you straddle him, dipping your head to kiss him. It’s strange how with him, making out feels more intimate than sex does. As good as the sex is, nothing gets your heart fluttering quite like when his lips are on yours.

Your hands settle on his shoulders and you tug at the ends of hair as you kiss him passionately.

Rafe smiles under the kiss, your lips molding together, his tongue tumbling with yours. You feel him getting hard again.

You pull back to slide the ring down his cock and he sighs in a way that tells you he can’t believe he’s actually doing this before he takes you in to kiss you again.

Rafe’s hands roll over your ass, squeezing and kneading as you sit on his naked lap. This is the longest you’ve ever kissed. It feels crazy to realize that, considering everything you’ve done together.

“Shit,” he shifts beneath you. His cock is growing, the ring starting to squeeze around him.

“How’s it feel?” you ask.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes low. It makes your heart swell with pride. “Ride me.”

You sink down on him slowly, feeling the ring against you once you’re fully seated. You find the button at the top of it to turn on the vibration.

You both exhale in pleasure at the same time. He skims his hands up to your waist, looking at you while you grind on top of him.

In the dim light of your quiet bedroom, the toy buzzing against your clit, how deep he is inside you, the way his eyes are locked on yours… it’s all so perfect. Everything with him is so fucking perfect that it can’t be true.

The fact that you ended up here all because of a part-time cleaning job and a cam website feels insane.

Your palm is against his hot chest. He looks down at it and his dimples dip into his cheeks as he smiles smugly.

“Your hands are so fucking cute,” he teases. The non-sexual compliment sends you into a tizzy.

“Yours are huge,” you retort, trying to keep cool.

“What else is huge?” he asks.

“Your ego.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs.

“Okay,” you tease, starting to sit up so he’ll slip out of you. He roughly pulls you back down by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rafe mutters. You laugh and start to fuck him faster, your hips rolling in circles.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back. “I… Fuck, I need to get on top.”

You shift to let him settle over you, your head resting on your pillow. Rafe’s hand runs up the side of your bent leg and he grabs your calf to pull it towards him, silently inviting you to wrap your legs around him.

You hook your ankles together, your entire body hugging him.

You fuck for at least twenty straight minutes, both of you sweating and panting and shaking. You knew he’d last extra long with the cock ring tight around him, but this is unbelievable.

You cum twice underneath him in the span of the session, earning a string of “good girl”s from him. By your third orgasm, he starts to tremble, too.

When Rafe cums inside you, his name tumbles out in his groan. Not princess, not baby, not good girl, but your name, and it gives you a knotted feeling in your stomach that you haven’t had with him yet.

Maybe it’s because he’s elated over coming down from a new level. Or maybe it’s more.

He pulls out, still dripping.

“So… you like my present?” you ask when he falls in your bed next to you.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans. “That was…” He doesn’t seem to have the words, but neither do you. How do you even begin to describe something this unreal?

“I need water,” you say, unsure of how you’re going to even stand up. “Want some?”

He shakes his head in response.

You stand at your kitchen sink, leaning against the counter and swallowing down cold water. On your way back to the bedroom, you notice a lit up screen on your kitchen table.

Rafe must have left his phone here before you moved to the bed. Through pure instinct, you look at the screen. By the time you realize you’re accidentally snooping, it’s too late.

You don’t see the contact name in time, but you do see the message.

bro where are you? too many bitches here for just me lol

A chill rushes through your body. It must be one of his buddies waiting for him at a party.

Of course. It’s a Friday night and you’re pretty sure all the rich people on the island have to do is party.

You feel like an idiot. Expecting exclusivity from Rafe in the arrangement you’re in was ridiculous. Of course he’s fucking around on the side. Someone like him, with his sex drive, can’t be satisfied by one girl.

At this point, you just want him to leave, so you collect his clothes off the kitchen floor.

Thankfully, Rafe’s already sitting up in your bed when you reenter your bedroom. Surely eager to go.

“Here,” you say coldly, handing him his jeans and t-shirt. You don’t look at him when he takes his clothes from you. “Are you gonna head out?”

You realize when you ask the question, it’s like a secret test you’re putting him through. If he stays, he gives a shit about you. If he leaves, he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I should,” he says. He should. Yeah, he really should go look at and flirt with and fuck other girls.

“‘Kay.” You start to collect some clean clothes from your dresser, covering your body with them, feeling strangely insecure around him now.

“You pissed off or something?” he asks behind you as he gets dressed.

You clench your jaw. Honestly, you’re more hurt than anything. But are you even allowed to be? Just because he acts like your boyfriend sometimes doesn’t mean he is.

“No,” you reply. You swallow down the painful feelings and turn to look at him. “Just tired.” You think back to your texts yesterday about how often you’ve hooked up. “Lost count, right? I might need a break.”

You don’t mean it. At this point, you’re just defensive. Wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

Rafe’s face flashes in displeasure.

“What - why? What the fuck happened in the last fucking minute?” he asks.

“I’m not allowed to be tired?” you respond.

He dips his head, nodding as he buttons his jeans. He seems silenced by his own anger. Your eyes sweep down his muscled body, wishing he’d just hug you and ask you what’s wrong one more time and reassure you that you’re more than just sex to him.

You can tell he’s pissed off and you know you’re not being fair, but you let him leave without any more words exchanged between you.

After a long shower, you lie in bed and wish Rafe didn’t leave his smell on your pillow. You browse your phone, trying to distract yourself.

You tell yourself you’ll go to sleep in five minutes over and over again. You’re working at the estate tomorrow. You need to get up early. But you know the moment you close your eyes, you’ll be trapped in your thoughts. You don’t want to think about him.

It’s nearing midnight when a text comes in.

Rafe: princessssssdsssss

You look at your screen in confusion. Is this a drunk text?

Rafe: ur mean

Rafe: but ypur pussy is sooo niiice lol

Yeah. He’s plastered.

Rafe: ans you have cutehands

Rafe: you akwyas smell good how the fuck is fhat possibke

You hate that your heart warms at the fact that he’s clearly fucked up but his instinct is to text you.

You reply: i think someone’s drunk…

Rafe: yes iam

Rafe: idk what i’m gona do with yiu loool

You: what do you want to do with me?

You get an alert that he sent you $69.

Rafe: that

Rafe: looool

Sex. Of course.

You: are you going to make me do every position?

Rafe: you’r efreaky as fuck. i know youd like it

You: true…

Rafe: lowkey ur all i think about

Goddamn it. Your heart is pounding at this point. You try to play it off.

You: oh only lowkey. cool

Rafe: don’t be maddd

You: i’m pissed

Rafe: we should fuck aboutt it :)

You know the answer to your next question, that he sees you as a booty call and that’s all, but you know the confirmation.

You: is that all you want to do rafe? fuck?

Rafe: YES

Rafe: what if i come over again tonigjt lol

You: i work tomorrow. i need to sleep

Rafe: you need this dick

You: omg

Rafe: do you likw this skng

Rafe: song

You: ??? what song

You can’t stifle your laugh at how shit-faced he is.

Rafe: irs good

Rafe: u should giveme a lap dance

You: you’re drunk as hell. i’ll see you tomorrow, ok? goodnight

You think back to the way he looked when you snapped at him earlier and decide to send one more message.

You: sorry i was mean

He doesn’t reply. Maybe it’s better that way.

Your body is heavy the next morning. You barely make it to the Camerons’ estate. You don’t see Rafe at all in the morning. You’re guessing he crashed at whoever’s party he went to.

You wonder how many bitches, as he and his friends say, he talked to last night.

When it’s time to turn over his bedsheets, you take a moment to take in the familiarity of his bedroom. When you pull over a new fitted sheet, you realize just how exhausted you are.

There’s no reason for another maid to come into this room. It’s on your list only. And Rafe is gone.

So, what’s the harm in lying down to rest, just for a little bit? You’ll do a better job when you’re not exhausted.

You won’t close your eyes.

You lie on his pillow. Okay, maybe you can close your eyes for a minute. You’ll count to sixty then stand back up.

The numbers quickly melt away and you slip into a slumber.

When you wake up, nuzzling your face into the pillow, Rafe is in bed with you, his back to you.

It takes a moment to remember where you are. You sit up and he notices the movement, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

{ read part eleven here }

author’s note: shoutout to my readers for being so creative. thank you to this anon and this anon and to another reader (you know who you are) for your contributions to this chapter! ILY!

#we are FINALLY getting rafe’s pov in the next part 🫡#also dont hate me for the cliffhanger pls #two more parts and the series will wrap up!!! hope you’ve liked it 🥰#im excited to give this fic its ending but honestly sad its almost over #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic

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kissforyouu · 2 months

Text

ribbons & affection ♡

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff , smut

warnings : RIBBONS!!! 🎀 , sexual content : jk is tied up , p in v , breast play , switch!reader , switch!jk , tit fucking , guided masterbation , creampie , nudes

a/n : this was inspired by this video!! AND HAPPY LATE VALENTINES DAY😭😭!! btw i made like a whole text au but forgot tumblr had a limited number for pics so i couldn't include it in ughh😫😫

not proofread.

"hi."

jungkook stares at you from your door, across the living room. he was dressed in black from head to toe, as usual. big puffer jacket, baggy pants and a tank top with a few of his rings on. his body was leaned against the doorframe as he waited for your response.

"you're here!" you squeel, excited to see your boyfriend. especially after your...little argument yesterday. it was childish, really. jungkook was a massive tease. he would tease you about quite literally everything. and maybe yesterday he took it a little too far by making a comment about his exes. multiple exes to say the least :). obviously, you got fucking mad. he was talking about how he never really felt anything real for any of them, except maybe one. obviously that made you feel a bit insecure. what if he feels the same towards you as well? and he's just playing you?

no, he wouldn't do all of this if he was. you're sure. you're very sure! right? he's your jungkookie.

brushing away all those thoughts away, you skip your way towards your boyfriend, only stopping a foot away from him. you look up at your man, arms behind your back with a small smile that's threatening to widen.

jungkook's lips press thinly against eachother as if he's going to say something, but he stops and drops whatever he was holding. next thing, his arms immediately wrap around your body, pulling you to his chest. like this, jungkook wraps his entire body around yours. your nose nuzzled deep in his neck with his arms securely wrapped around you, one around your waist and the other around your back.

your boyfriend bear hugs you for about a minute, gently rocking your body sideways. god, this feels nice. the moment he wrapped his arms around you, it was like everything was fine again. there was some obvious tension still, until the moment before he hugged you like this. your body was relaxed, almost lifelessly laying in his arms.

slowly, you place your palms on his back, hugging him back. jungkook hums in satisfaction, the tip of his tongue in your hair.

"my sweet girl." his embrace felt so warm and safe. you never want to let go.

"i missed you so much." he mumbles into your hair. just as you were about to slowly pull away, he pulls back into his embrace by grabbing your wrists. "let me hold you." he kisses the top of your head.

there is a familiar warm feeling spreading around your stomach. jungkook! >.<!

you just let the man embrace you in silence, squeezing your body over and over again until he feels completely comfortable and fit.

about a minute pass by, so you decided to break the silence.

"you missed me that much?"

"the fuck i look like to you? of course, i did." jungkook pinches the skin on your waist, making you squeak. his hand shifts places to under your butt, lifting your body up effortlessly next. he adjusts you in his hold, both hands under your butt to hold you up. jungkook sighs, comforted, as he walks into your house.

"my stuff!" you whine, hand reaching towards your bag full of goodies on the floor.

"is that all you care about?" the man holding you grunts.

"yup! duh." you pinch his ear.

"we should break up then—"

"no. you're not funny, kook." jungkook snickers in return, hand patting your back. he sits on your couch, pulling you closer to his body. gosh, if he could, he'd dig inside his body to have you rest under his skin. he wants to be as close to you as possible.

"y/n, oh my god." jungkook takes a deep breath, thumb caressing the dimple on your cheek as you smile. "yeah?", "baby, i love you so much." he hugs you again, practically squeezing you. you just giggle, cheeks heating up. "oh my god, you're so cute, jungkook!" you coo, hand gently petting his head.

"i'm not cute." his voice comes out muffled. "yes, you are!" "no, don't call me that." jungkook huffs, groaning into your neck. "the way you said that made you even cuter." you giggle. you pull him out of your embrace stand up on his thighs, both hands holding his face up.

"look at you! your head is like a circle!" there you go again.

"oh fuck, baby. give it a rest." jungkook's back is slouched against the back as he watched you fondle his cheeks. "smileee!" jungkook shakes his head in disagreement. you frown, lightly slapping your boyfriend's cheeks. you boyfriend couldn't help but grin a little, the corner of his lips twitching upwards but it quickly conceals it by puffing his cheeks.

"give me a biiig smile, baby." you pinch the tip of his ears. jungkook shakes his head again, clearly saying no. you begin by kissing the tip of his nose, then trailing more up his nose bridge, ending with a soft kiss on his forehead. your cheeks are already heated up as you caress your boyfriend's cheeks, kissing them afterwards. there's faint stains of lip gloss all over his face by now.

"smileeee!" jungkook looks away from you, trying to keep his smile from breaking out. but your charms were just too good. your boyfriend couldn't help but smile widely, followed by a giggle. ack! so cute!

quickly, you push your index fingers forward to poke his dimples. jungkook's laughter fills your ears as you continued to poke his dimples.

"did you bring the ribbons by the way?"

"wait—" pause. "you were being forreal?" jungkook squints his eyes, trying to read you.

"yeah?" you pout.

"i just—well, thought you were joking. one sec." jungkook signals you to move out of his lap before he walks towards the bag laying on the floor. he brings the bag to you, pulling out a roll of pink ribbon. he throws it at you and watches it bounce off your chest to your lap.

"now what?" your now curious boyfriend stares at you, waiting for you to do something.

"i'm going to fuck you!" god. such filthy words coming out of someone who looks so innocent.

you stare back at your boyfriend with your eyes wide, a cheeky smile adorning your lips. your fingers fondled with the lace of his sweatpants, sneaking its way upwards and under his tank top. the tips of your fingers make contact with his hard abs as they traced imaginary lines all over.

"little fucking minx." jungkook cusses out.

with a giggle, you sit up on the sofa, pulling down his sweats upto his mid thighs to expose his boxers, semi hard cock very much visible.

teasingly, you bend down to press a kiss to his clothed cock. jungkook's breath hitches, excited. but the excitement vanishes away the moment you pull away and let the sweatpants go back to its original spot.

"what?" "what?" you giggle at his visible confusion.

"weren't you gonna suck my dick?"

"ew! no!" you laugh, slapping jungkook's torso. you get back on your feet before kissing your boyfriend's cheek and skipping your way back to your bedroom. huh? were you gonna fuck him in your room then? before jungkook could even find out, he hears you locking your room.

"Y/N? you can't possibly lock me out of your room after doing that!" the helpless man shouts.

but the ding coming from his phone distracts him, especially your contact appearing right on top. you had sent him a message. now?

baby❤️ : take ur pants off and wait on the couch🤭 p.s. leave the boxers on :) AND CLOSE UR EYES PLS

what the fuck were you planning? er, jungkook didn't care. he was thrilled by this. all he wanted was to burry his cock deep in your cunt.

so far into your relationship, you've never really initiated things yourself. it's always been him suggesting things to try in bed. you've only brought up topics maybe once or twice. so this is definitely rare. it wasn't just you suggesting it, but you were acting on it right on the moment too. so correction: jungkook was far more than thrilled for this. the thought itself got his dick standing up proud and tall.

he made sure to listen to all your orders. your boyfriend was sitting on the couch in his boxers, legs wide spread and waiting for you. he was debating whether to take his shirt off or not. i mean, you didn't tell him to do so. but you also didn't tell him not to. uh. er. maybe—

"kook, are you ready?~" your sweet voice fills his ears, catching his attention and eyes directing towards your room.

"you want me to close my eyes?" jungkook's eyes shut after the loud yes you shout okay.

once you felt like you were ready with....this?!?! you slowly open the door, trying to not make a sound. you tip toe towards you impatient (and horny) boyfriend on the couch with a tight smile and immediately place your palm on his eyes, blinding his vision.

because of the sudden action, jungkook flinches, hands immediately landing on your thigh—more specifically, your garter.

you freeze, head lowered to see jungkook's finger hooking onto the garter. you watch his lips slowly turn upwards to a smirk, quickly picking on what's happening. his other hand joins the feast, gripping onto your other thigh, slowly sliding up your smooth skin and meeting your ass cheeks. his fingertips touch the thin fabric covering your cunt.

"ha!" jungkook laughs, body falling back against the sofa with a slap to your asscheek. "can i open my eyes now?"

you pout, eyebrows frowned in annoyance. whining, you talk, "ugh! i wanted to surprise you. why do you always have to find out everything?"

"doesn't matter. can i open them now? pleasepleasepleaseplease—" "okay."

jungkook's eyes immediately open, and the sight in front almost makes him faint. fucking hell. he didn't know where to look. your face? your tits? ass? uh, i don't know? fuck.

you were wearing a beautiful baby pink lace lingerie set. it was barely covering you, of course, but teased jungkook just the perfect amount. oh fuck. the lace was so thin and fit your body perfectly, decorating you as if you were some prop. the lace had little bows adorning it, along with small roses. his eyes were glued to tour beautiful round tits, secured within the flimsy material. but one thing caught his attention. fuck, he was rock hard. it was the beautiful J necklace he had gifted you a while earlier, sitting perfectly in between your pretty tits.

"shit, baby." jungkook touches the pendant, thumb swiping over the shiny letter. he traces the chain of the necklace upto your neck, giving you goosebumps along the way. jungkook's finger slides over your shoulder blade and down your arm before it lands back on your pendant. he grabs your left breast, squeezing it. he loved how your hard nipples were seen through the useless little material. couldn't help but swipe his thumb over the material a few times, making you let out a whimper here and there.

and the beauty doesn't even stop there.

jungkook's eyes travel downwards, met with your pretty pussy covered with nothing but the little lace fabric. and oh, oh shit— his eyes widen at the crotchless panties you were wearing. with little bows attached to both hipsters.

"dirty fucking girl." he laughs, hand gripping onto the flesh of your ass.

"you like it?" you tilt your head to the side with a small grin on your face.

"i love it, baby. gimme a twirl." jungkook pats your ass and motions you to do what he asked. you happily accept, taking a few steps back to give him the full view. you begin to twirl around slowly. jungkook enjoys the view with a small smile.

"so pretty, baby. dolled up all for me." he bites his lower lip. "uh huh." you nod.

"c'mere. lemme feel you, princess."

"nuh uh." you refuse, shaking your head from side to side.

"fuck it, what's it now?"

jungkook didn't know what to expect this time. he knew you were nervous about it, judging by your body language. you were standing awkwardly, hands pinned to your back while nibbling on your lower lip. what would make his baby so nervous? shit, maybe, you'll let him have your ass for the first time—

"press your hands to your back."

maybe not.

"no. wanna touch you." you knew this would happen.

"please? pleaasee?" you whine.

"no, sweetheart. not doing that. i need to feel you up." jungkook shakes his head.

"c'mon, kook. for me? pretty please?" you smile. you smile so beautifully that it almost makes jungkook drop down to his knees. fuck, was he down bad.

"yea, yea, fine." he grunts, hands pinned to his back now. you happily scoot over, grabbing the roll of ribbons and tying them around jungkook's wrists.

so that's what they were for? jungkook thinks.

when he thought you were finally done, he watches you bend downwards to tie two bows around his naked thighs. then you proceed to do the same to his biceps.

"i feel like a coquette porcelain doll."

"you are! my princess." you hold up his face by his chin, squeezing his cheeks again.

"i hope nobody ever finds out about this." jungkook groans.

nah. jungkook doesn't care. he didn't give a shit, to be honest. you were his girl. he'd put on anything you give him. hell, he'd walk around naked in the streets if you had asked him. with you, he became vulnerable. something he never was before. he'd put on the girliest princess dress and go out if you had asked. in fact, jungkook would rather be proud. to call you his girl of course :). "my girl made me wear this."

"don't worry, won't tell anyone." you kiss the tip of his nose as a reward. you gently push his back by his shoulders, making him rest against the sofa.

perfect! your boyfriend looked like a coquette princess. he looked yummy.

for a second, your mind goes blank, utterly blank. what do you do now? you've never switched the roles during sex...yet. you've always been the submissive one while jungkook handled everything.

"need help?" jungkook's shiteating grin just motivates you to do better. you'll prove him wrong. yeah!

you mutter a small no. you begin by kneeling down in front of your boyfriend, right in between his legs. his hard on was very visible through the thin material of his black calvein klein boxers, even staining it a little as well. you lean forward to press a kiss to where his tip was. licking some precum off the boxer as well.

jungkook hums in approval once you start to pepper kisses all over his boxers, finger hooking to the waistband of his boxers to pull them down. once you've fully taken them off, you begin by stroking the base of his cock up and down. very slowly.

the slow pace of your hands was slowly starting to drive jungkook mad. he wanted you to fasten up, or use your mouth, just do something that'll make him cum. but at the same time, he found it arousing. his girlfriend, usually the one who's begging to get fucked with a pillow in between her legs, taking control and using his cock however she pleased.

jungkook starts to thrust his cock into your hands, begging for more friction. and who are you to oppose. heh. you give in, moving your hands faster on his cock. meanwhile, you also leaned forward to kitten lick his red tip.

wrong. he so desperately wanted you to deepthroat his cock right now.

"fuck, baby, the things i would've done if i had my hands freed right now."

that's just for the play, by the way. only a fool would think that jungkook really felt trapped by those skimpy ribbons. he could easily break out. he's just letting you have your fun for now. you both knew that. such a good boyfie!

you giggle in response before spitting a globe of spit onto his cock. before it slides down his cock, you flatten your tongue on it and spread the spit all over his cockhead. you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, gently sucking on it.

you pull his tip out of your mouth with a pop. jungkook looks at you befuddled, then he tries to touch you. but oh—yeah, the ribbons. he thinks twice and settles on not breaking out of the ribbons.

you reach out your arm to grab the pillow on the couch, then placing it under your knees so that you could sit on it. it gave you some height as well. you look back at your boyfriend with a mischievous smile, then back down at your breasts. your arm travels to your back, your bra, and then slowly unhook it, letting the lingerie material fall down to reveal your perky breasts.

jungkook gasps, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together once you start massaging your breasts while eyeing his cock. shit. he bites his lower lip, watching the way the flesh of your breasts perfectly mold into your hands however you massage it.

your back was arched, chest popping out as you began to stroke his cock with your left hand. meanwhile, your fingers played with your breasts, rolling the little nub in between. jungkook didn't know where to look. your fresh nails set, pretty in pink with cute charms all over, looked so hypnotising wrapped around his cock. you were dripping, it was obvious as you constantly shifted your position on the pillow.

jungkook swears he sees stars once your hand leaves his cock to cup your breasts together and squeeze them. shit.

"put it in, baby." your voice was sultry once you spoke.

jungkook gladly thrusted his hips up, adjusting to the position a little because, well, can't use his hands. your boyfriend slides his cock in between your breasts with a groan, watching the way your breasts squeeze him in just right. he didn't need any lubricant, his cock was wet enough already with precum leaking from the tip.

jungkook begins to thrust his hips up and down sloppily. it was quite hard since his hands were tied. but you decided to help by thrusting your body forward and back to meet the pace of his thrusts. you stare at your boyfriend, whimpering prettily with a layer of sweat covering his face. he looked so pretty like this. cock desperately going in and out of the valley between your boobs. you were slowly starting to like this whole...taking control thing.

"you like this, kook?" you murmur.

your boyfriend laughs, grunting afterwards.

"are you trying to dirty talk to me?"

your eyebrows furrow, "ruined the moment."

he laughs again, tongue swiping over his lower lip. "talk to me. i like hearing your voice."

okay, now you're shy. what do you say now? you mentally cry.

you stay silent, but give him a little nod and continue to let him fuck into your boobs. the louder his moans got, the sloppier his thrusts became. jungkook breaks out a little whine, immediately shutting himself up after that. he's embarrassed, you can see it.

"come on, a little more. you're doing so good, baby." shiiiiit.

he fucks into you faster, but sloppier. just to make it a little easier (heh), you let a globe of spit slide down your chin and fall onto his cock.

"haa—" your boyfriend moans. and with one last thrust, a creamy liquid spurts out of his tip and lands on your chest, some on your chin as well. he could not believe that he came from just your tits. you let go of your breasts once he slips his cock out, sighing and plopping your forehead on the sofa.

you sit back to your previous position after a few seconds. your tits were covered in his cum. a sight to never forget. a sight to never forget, for sure! you snicker as you grabbed the camera on the coffee table behind you.

"where'd that come from?" jungkook talks.

you shush him with a kiss on his sensitive tip. what's gotten to you?

with the camera, you proceed to take multiple pictures of your breasts. squeezed against eachother, cum dripping from your nipples. to spice it more up, you bring in your boyfriend's (still hard) cock to the picture, playing it between your breasts.

"you're so cute, sweetheart. use my cock however you want." his back was resting on the sofa, half lidded eyes watching you use his cock for your cute little pictures.

"my girlfriend's a little whore? whom are you gonna show these pictures to? other guys?" you know he's joking, but you couldn't help but scoff.

"jus' you. i don't like other people. unlike you." you let go of his cock, letting it bounce back.

jungkook snickers, getting a kick out of annoying you.

"you're so mean!" you slap his chest hard.

"c'mon, baby." you place the camera back on the coffee table. pushing jungkook back, you climb onto his lap, strangling his thighs. you were sitting on his thigh, your crotch directly in contact with his skin. it was hard to not just fuck yourself on his thigh. but eh, maybe.

you moan once your clit touches his thigh. hand cupping your pussy, your index finger gently swipe over your clit a few times. so soft. you begin to rub it a little, flicking the little button over and over.

"having fun playing with yourself, princess? touch her nice and slow first, m'kay? add a finger after, she loves that." the way he was talking about your pussy as if it's completely something else around you so much. you lean back on your boyfriend's thigh, leg spread as your fingers played with your princess parts.

your fingers dip in between your folds, fingers getting coated in your wetness. humming in satisfaction with how wet it is, you seperate your folds with your fingers, forming a v shape. jungkook licks his lips, watching your arousal stick to your fingers.

"pinch her for me." jungkook groans once you obey his command, your own fingers pinching your clit for him. "that's right, sweetheart. now rub it slowly." you follow his words, rubbing your clit gently.

"mmh, i want you." you needed him so bad. wanted him to touch you and make you cum over and over. your fingers fasten at the thought, rubbing your clit harshly.

"you want me to touch you? just say the word and i'll touch you, sweet girl." you wanted to slap him across the face. you wanted his hands all over your body. but that meant removing the ribbons. you didn't want to lose control.

"say yes. i'll touch you good, sweetheart. make you feel just fine, yeah?" jungkook coos at the sight of your pussy compulsions. clenching and throbbing, begging for his touch.

"see, she wants me too. just look at her, baby. you have to let me touch her so i could help her out."

"mmmmgh!" you whine, not liking how this is going.

fuck it!

sitting back up on his lap, you pull on his hair to raise his head up so that you could kiss him harshly. you also manage to whine a "fine" in the middle. the moment jungkook got the que, he laughs, breaking out of those stupid little ribbons. your boyfriend lifts you up from below, your ass now sitting on his forearms as he harshly kissed you.

lips smacking eachother, sucking eachother's tongues and whatnot, jungkook didn't let you catch a breath. he was impatient. he wanted to eat you whole then and there.

"all of that just to take it off once i open my mouth, huh? that cock hungry?" jungkook speaks he removes his mouth from you. you just nod, not having any other words to say.

"lay down, pretty."

you impatiently lay down, stumbling on the pillows while you do it. your back was resting on the arm of the sofa with your leg raised up, your boyfriend getting in between your legs. he takes off his tank top with a smirk, throwing it and letting it land wherever in his room. jungkook takes in the sight in front of him.

you sprawled in front of him, pussy dripping while wearing those slutty little panties. what's even point if your whole cunt's exposed? slut, slut, slut. his slut, though. the sparkling jewellery laying on the swell of your breasts catches his attention next. your boyfriend touches it, caressing the charm with his palm.

he liked that a lot. you were his. his woman, his person, his everything in every possible way. you were the love of his life, his trophy. he carried you around like a trophy. always showing you off to his friends and everyone else.

"my girlfriend"

his eyes sparkled as he leaned down to press a small kiss on the charm. you could feel your boyfriend's warm breath hitting your lips. jungkook licks his lower lip, beginning to kiss your neck. he licks over an area, nuzzling into your shoulder. his left cheek was pressed against your shoulder blade, fingers running down your arm. you literally got goosebumps at his touch. he was so gentle and loving. as if he was treasuring you and your body. worshipping you.

"you're so beautiful, baby. how'd i get so lucky." your breath hitches at his praises, watching jungkook praise the shit out of you while kissing every inch of your body.

the moment he gropes both of your breasts at the same time by those large manly hands, i swear you almost came on the spot. your pussy desperately clench around nothing with your back arched, a small moan escaping your lips. your boyfriend laughs at your reaction, aware of how aroused you've become at this point.

"you want me to finally touch her now?" he signals at your pussy. your head jolts upwards, frantically nodding with a few yesses leaving your lips.

"pleasure." jungkook begins to circle your pretty clit meanwhile his other hand caressed the insides of your thigh, easing you down. your boyfriend slowly lays down on his stomach, face now completely aligned with your glistening pussy.

"hello there, sweetheart." you whine again—shit, you might as well just cum right now—jungkook's hand suddenly holds your hand, intervening them together. his chin lays on top of your crotch as he looked at you one more time, eyes showing nothing but pure affection towards to.

jungkook places a kiss on top of your clit, tongue gently swiping over the sensitive nub.

"pretty girl." his tongue entered your pussy to lick away all your arousal. you were moaning, pussy clenching at the sensation. it was good, god, his tongue, but it wasn't good enough to make you cum. you knew he was doing this on purpose. not sinking his tongue deeper into your cunt, jungkook just laps on your pussy and enjoys the taste of your wetness.

"so sweet." his fingers joined the party to rub slow and sensual circles on your clit. this was a sight to watch indeed. your boyfriend feasted on your pussy as if he was a starved man.

everything felt so good. he made sure to pull away once you feel like coming as well. meanie.

"keep it in, i need you to milk my cock, not my face." you do nothing but nod.

once he felt satisfied enough by your sloppy cunt, he pulls away to look at you. you notice how puffy his lips looked from all that making out with your pussy. that makes the two of you i guess!

jungkook grins, jacking off his hard cock. he was bricked up, of course. one look at you and it was over for him. you looked like you were straight out of a porno.

"i'm gonna stuff you full of my cock, baby. you would like that, wouldn't you?" he huffs, eyeing your dripping pussy and that pretty little face of yours.

"you make me so cock drunk, jungkook ;(" your manicured toes poke his thigh, foot almost about touch his cock until he playfully pushes it away with a laugh. "patience."

"look at how pretty these are." you hook a finger under the trap of your crotchless panties, pulling on it and letting the material slap back into place. "bought it just for you." there's a proud little grin on your face.

"yeah? who's card did you use?"

you hesitate for a moment, but answer. "mine."

jungkook pauses, eyebrow raising followed with a slap on your thigh.

"i've told you so many times to use my card but you never do. do i have to fuck the thought into you now?"

"uh-huh. jus' doesn't feel right to use your money for your own surprise." you pout.

"i don't care. i've clearly told you to use my card whenever you want."

"noooooo," you whine, "my friends are already calling you my sugar daddy!"

"then let them." he laughs, tracing your folds with his fingers. jungkook pushes two fingers in at once, beginning to scissor them in.

"ngh! i want your cock! not your fingers...!"

"gotta prep you, sweetheart." he fastens the pace of your fingers inside you, contemplating whether to add a third one in or not. eh, just do it. he stretches your cunt out with all three fingers while his other hand drew invisible doodles on your cute tummy.

once he feels like you're stretched out enough, he carefully pulls his fingers out, licking them clean afterwards. it was so nasty, yet so arousing.

without anymore waiting, jungkook's cock was already slipped in with no problems. he gives you a second to adjust to his cock as you shifted in your position, making yourself comfortable. once you gave him the okay signal, your boyfriend begins to give you those heavenly thrusts of his.

"haaa." you take a deep breath in, hands holding jungkook's shoulders for support. his pace wasn't fast, it was rather slow and sensual. he took his time with you. it was slow, he touched every inch and corner of your pussy this way. it was perfect. your mushy walls molded into whatever he wanted.

"nygh. ~" you let out small whines and moans, loving the way his cock slides in and out of you. it just felt so good.

"you're so amazing, please never stop." you speak out followed by a gasp, making jungkook chuckle. "never stoppin', sweetheart."

his face was buried in your neck, inhaling in your scent. your boyfriend licked your earlobe, tugging on it with his teeth a few times.

he begins to fasten his pace around you once he felt you clenching around him repeatedly. you moan out a long whine, the heel of your foot now digging into his asscheek while he pounded his cock into you. at this point, your moans had already sinked in together, turning out harmonically.

"you close?" your boyfriend leans down to whisper in your ear. you just nod, not really having the energy to speak words. you were fucked. you looked so fucked out from his dick, it was unreal. he loved this look on you, though. eyes half lidded, lips formed in an 'o' shape and breasts jumping up and down.

"shit, gonna drive me crazy." he lightly slaps your cheek. but you lean into his hand, wanting more of his touch.

soon you feel your orgasm coming in. ah, shit, clawing your nails into jungkook's shoulders, you just close your eyes and cum. jungkook's eyes were glued to your pussy as your juice milked his cock good. there was a white ring formed around his cock, making him smirk.

soon, jungkook cums as well, very well triggered by the pleasure from your orgasm. but he looks at you, asking whether he could cum inside or not. once you give him your approval, jungkook wastes no time to completely empty his balls into your cunt. he fucked you through his high, fucking his cum deeper into your pussy. it's fine, you were on birth control anyway.

he slowly pulled out of you, not letting you get hurt or anything. and then he just threw himself over your body. "oh!" you giggle a little. your boyfriend licked your cheek and bit it as if he was about to take a big bite out of his favourite food.

he leaned back to watch his cum drip down from your pussy. "heh." jungkook collects the liquid with his finger then guides it to your lips. you happily wrap your lips around them.

"can't let a drop go to waste."

you laugh, hitting his chest playfully. you spent another few minutes laying on top of eachother until you decided to break the silence.

"so, did you like my surprise?"

you knew damn well he LOVED it. you just wanted to hear the story.

"best surprise ever, sweet girl." he caresses your cheek with the back of his index finger.

"happy valentines day, my love ♡"

"happy valentines day, jungkook ♡"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt

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nctsworld · 8 months

Text

fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again.

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow.

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else.

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles.

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market.

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm.

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually.

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh.

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark.

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #yn brainrot

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sugurufic · 1 month

Text

I'm trying to get husbanded-up! (Nanami x F!Reader)

Word Count: 0.5k

Summary: In which you try the trend of addressing your boyfriend as your husband with bf!Nanami Kento

Content warnings: fluff, non sorcerer au

masterlist

You dress up in a pretty white dress for the casual date that your boyfriend, Nanami Kento, had planned for you. A chill afternoon out in the park, painting things that inspire you, then have a little picnic and then probably spend the evening reading to each other and cooking together.

It isn’t suspicious when you set down your phone to record the painting date, you love taking videos of sweet times like this. “So today we are out here in this lovely park for our date - my husband had the lovely idea of us painting together in the sun, maybe getting inspired to make the next best thing.”

You take out your canvas and box of paints, but your lovely boyfriend has no reaction to the word other than a small smile on his face. The timelapse continues as you look at the scene around you, picking to sketch out the ducks in the pond. It’s a lovely day with the sun out and a cool breeze in the air, the smell of fresh spring delighting your senses. You feel serene and calm - Kento is your oasis in the chaotic world of work, work and work.

A couple of hours into the date, you are finally done with your scene of ducks in the pond and the blooming trees surrounding them. You turn off the timelapse and set up your camera in a normal record instead. You finally look up at Kento, who is already looking at you with a smile plastered on his face.

“You look so adorable admiring your handiwork, my love.” He says. “So what inspired you today?”

“Those ducks and their little ducklings!” You excitedly say. “What about you, my husband?”

His smile only widens when you say that, but he feigns nonchalance as he says, “Oh, nothing, just a beautiful woman sitting in front of me.”

“Really?” you mumble, narrowing your eyes in fake anger.

“It’s not very true to her form, but i tried my best,” He says.

“Okay, let’s show this to the camera at the count of three.” You say. “Three!”

Both of you turn your canvases to the camera - yours a quiet scene of the ducks and ducklings, his of a woman in a white dress, with a canvas on her lap. She has your hair, but her face is covered by her hair.

“Oh my god Kento, that is so pretty!” You exclaim, snatching his canvas from him. “I swear you make me look waay prettier than I actually am.”

“I think you undermine yourself a little too much, my wife.” He says, a pointed, cheeky glare sent to you. Your face heats up instantly, not having much of his self restraint.

“Should we go feed the ducks, husband?” You tease him back, the warmth not leaving your face.

“I am trying to get husbanded-up, you know?” He says, and you burst out into a fit of giggles.

“You aren’t trying fast enough,” you tease back.

“Your message has been received and you will receive your response in due time,” Nanami says, joining your giggles.

A/N: we are gonna ignore the context of the gf and pretend that's actually where our man is

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami fluff

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yuuuhiii · 2 months

Text

Geto teaching u how to give head

includes : 800 words , inexperienced!reader x geto suguru, smut, blowjob, explicit words,

Suguru knew you were inexperienced and he explained to you that it was okay and he’d be ready whenever you were. You always were thankful of how patient he was, he was fine with just satisfying your needs.

However one night you were feeling extra needy and wet. Suguru wasn’t helping either.

You know your boyfriend can’t help how extremely hot he is but the way his baggy shirt and sweats hugged his body was making your thighs clench.

Suguru knows you, probably even more than you do yourself. So of course he notices your squirming, setting a big hand on your thigh.

“You alright baby?” His deep voice resonates throughout the room only making your panties grow wetter.

You shake your head, your doe eyes peering up into his. He lazily smiles, rubbing your thigh, slowing inching to your heat.

“What’s wrong? You need me?” He lightly teases and you nod.

“Well you got me pretty.” He lets out an airily laugh yet you bite your lip.

Right before he’s about to sink to his knees to have a taste your words stop all of his movements.

“Sugu, can I suck you off?” He gulps, clearly caught off guard by your question, a small blush rising to his cheeks.

“A-Are you sure?” He almost whispers and you nod eagerly.

“If you’ll be patient with me.” You fiddle with your fingers.

“Of course I will baby, c’mere.” He pats his thigh, however instead of sitting on his lap like you usually do you sink to your knees in between his legs.

He’s already hard at just the sight of the position you’re in. He can’t believe that the day had finally come. He helps you pull off his sweats and you’re met with fully erect cock. You gape at his length, it lightly hitting your nose.

“Y-You’re already hard?” You whisper, your hot breath hitting his tip. He shudders, smiling dazedly.

“See what you do to me?”

You squeeze your thighs, finally wrapping your palm around him. He sighs, gaze already clouded with lust. You experimentally twist your wrist, tugging at his cock. He hisses, his lip tucked between his teeth.

“Fuck, good start.” He huffs out, throwing his head back.

The sight of him crumbing just from your touch spurs you on to make him feel even better.

“Alright, the tip is the most sensitive part, just like your clit ok?” He mumbles and you nod, staring directly at it.

The next moment your tongue lies flat along his slit, making him gasp.

“Oh fuck.” He moans, resisting the urge to buck his hips. It’s not like it was his first time getting head but god did you make him feel like a virgin.

“I-If you can’t fit me all in your mouth then just jerk the rest with your hands.” You nod, slowly leaning down to engulf him in your mouth.

The moment your mouth encased around his cock, taking him deeper and deeper he moans loud.

“Oh my god baby.” He says breathlessly, his hands making a makeshift ponytail with your hair.

You gaze up at him with your mouth stuffed full of his cock and he swears he can cum just from the sight.

“Alright baby, bob your head but make sure to watch your teeth yea?” You hum around him and he whines.

When you begin to move, you hollow your cheeks, growing faster by the second. He’s a moaning mess, chest heaving and slightly tugging at your hair.

“Ngh—good girl, sucking me so good.” He groans.

Before he can even ask you to your taking him deeper until his tip hits the back of your throat.

“S-Shit!” He jerks, his balls tightening. You gag around him and release his cock with a pop, slowly jerking his tip.

“M’not gonna last much longer.” He moans, he’s slumped into the couch, his thighs shaking a bit.

You wanted nothing more than your boyfriend to finish in your mouth so you pull out a trump card, something you read online.

Without warning you deep throat him once again and he whimpers. You keep his tip hugged against your throat and at the same time you swallow around him, one of your hand moving to massage his balls.

He gasps, his hips bucking against you. His legs twitch and against your hold you can feel his balls tighten.

“M’cumming!” He moans loudly, hunching over you.

His warm seed fills your mouth and you swallow everything you’re given. When you pull of of him he’s a mess.

“Fuck, baby I came a lot.” He lets out a raspy laugh. You place pecks along his softening cock and he jerks again.

“Hey don’t overdue it, you’re gonna make me hard again.” He holds your chin and you smile.

“Did you feel good?” You shyly ask and he smiles, pulling you next to him.

“Of course I did, you did such a good job for me pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing you needly.

His tongue enters your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. You both moan in the kiss and his hands are gripping your thighs.

“Let me have a taste now yea?”

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

Text

rubber duck

in which reader is sick and spencer takes care of his girl!!

fluff (18+ for nudity) warnings/tags: reader referred to as girl, non-sexual undressing + nudity/intimacy, reader takes bath, spencer doesn't but he is in fact present a/n: heeeeyyy guys.... sorry for not posting for a month... accept this as a token of my gratitude and know that smut is in the works. keep sending requests, might not answer them but you never knoww!!

Spencer gets home around ten PM. Granted, it’s not a completely unreasonable time for someone to be asleep, but for you? A person who’d rather not go to bed at all than wake up before eight in the morning? You being passed out on the couch at this time is definitely abnormal.

He drops his bag on the coffee table as he approaches, kneeling next to where you’re curled up in the dark room. Part of him doesn’t want to wake you if you’re tired, but he’s mildly concerned. Normally after him being away all week you’ll stay up until he gets home regardless of how late (or early) it is. Ambient light coming in through the window allows him to see the sickly sheen to your skin, and he feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

“Spence?” you murmur, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. His response is equally quiet, wavering slightly.

“Hey. Are you feeling okay, angel?”

Even though you decidedly are not, your spirit lifts considerably at the sight of him in front of you. A wave of caramel hair falls over his furrowed brow as he scans your face, looking for signs that something is wrong. You brush it away, hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“I’m fine. I missed you a lot.”

Your voice is a paper-thin whisper, giving you away even as you try to downplay your condition.

“I missed you too, but I’m a little worried. You’re pretty warm.” His eyes dart away from your face and down your body, seeming to notice your attire for the first time. “Did you go to work?”

“I tried to. But I had to come home at early. I guess I didn’t make it all the way to bed.”

This seems to worry him even more, if the way his eyes narrow and the line of his mouth tightens is anything to go by.

“How long have you been asleep?”

“Well... what time is it?” you ask sheepishly, still disoriented.

“10:20.”

“Oh god,” you moan, burying your face into a pillow (which does not make breathing any easier through all the congestion), “I’ve been sleeping for eight hours!” Panic wells in your chest at the ridiculous notion that you somehow lost an entire day to sleep. "I didn't mean to-"

“Shh, relax, it's fine. Your immune system works a lot more efficiently when you’re asleep. It’s the best thing you can do when you’re sick. Studies show that melatonin may actually be an effective antiviral, and people who sleep seven hours a night are 300% less likely to develop an illness than people who sleep only five hours a night.”

Despite yourself, you smile into the pillow at his unprompted information dump.

“So... am I... 500% more likely to be better tomorrow?”

He laughs, running a hand through your hair.

“I don’t even know where you got that number.”

“I failed statistics in high school,” you mutter, pushing yourself up onto an elbow.

“Honey, that’s Algebra.”

You bury your face in your hand and laugh at your own stupidity- before it devolves into a coughing fit.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I know you hate germs,” you say once you’ve managed to get the coughing under control. You look at his face, but there are no signs of disgust or fear.

“I could never hate your germs. But I am worried about the cough... do you think a bath would help?”

You mull it over. Part of you wants to rot on the couch forever, but the more rational part knows you should definitely get up and try to take care of yourself. With a helping hand from Spencer you rise, stumbling into his waiting arms like a foal on shaky legs. Immediately you feel fatigued, but he patiently guides you to the bedroom and sits you on the mattress before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom.

For a few minutes the only sound aside from you catching your breath is the tub filling from the other room. Soon he returns, to find you curled up on the bed and barely conscious once more.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, gathering you up in his arms and helping you to your feet once more. “You really don’t feel good, huh?”

You shake your head, allowing yourself to be carefully herded into the bathroom. Spencer moves to sit on the edge of the steaming tub, pulling you forward gently by your belt loops. Deftly he begins to undo your jeans as you fumble with the buttons on your shirt.

“I feel like I’m dying,” you groan. He glances up at you.

“I wish you would have told me you were sick. I would have come home earlier.”

“I thought about it,” you admit sheepishly, “but I figured better I be sick and alone than more people potentially end up dead because I’m too needy.”

Your boyfriend sighs, resting his hands on your hips as he looks up at you with a mix of earnestness and admonishment.

“At least tell me next time. I don’t like the idea of you here all alone without anyone knowing you’re ill.” His fingers press gently into your flesh to emphasize his point. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree softly, without hesitation. Spencer’s expression softens too, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your sternum.

“In,” he directs after you wiggle out of your jeans, getting out of the way and helping you into the water. He watches as you carefully submerge yourself, a little tense as if he’s ready to jump into action at any second. “Is it too warm? I tried not to make it too hot because your body temperature is al-”

“It’s perfect,” you reassure, sinking further in. Steam billows up around you and you sniff. “Lavender?”

Spencer nods, settling on the floor next to you.

“And mint. I’m surprised you can actually smell it.”

Normally you’d tease him for his fussing, but the minty steam really does seem to be helping you breathe a bit easier. After only a few minutes, you feel noticeably better.

“Will you read to me?” you ask dropping your head to your shoulder to look at him.

He’s leaning against the wall and monitoring you with a contented look on his face. At the suggestion his eyebrows raise.

“Of course. What do you want to hear?”

“Fairytales. But only the super gory ones. The more disturbing the better.”

“What? No Jane Austen?”

“Ugh, no. I need to hear about terrible things happening to beautiful princesses so I can feel seen.”

A small smirk graces his lips as he regards you, eyes sparkling with humor and thinly veiled affection.

“You are utterly ridiculous.”

“You have to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you whine, slinking lower into the bubbles. Spencer hums in sympathy, running his hand through the water to check the temperature before trailing his knuckles over your arm.

“My poor sick girl,” he teases. You huff indignantly, attempting to hide the way his words make you melt into the bathwater.

“Just get the book, Spencer.”

“Yes ma’am.” He kisses your forehead (covertly gauging your fever, you’re sure) before pushing off the ground. You watch him leave, heart overflowing with adoration even though you still feel sick. Maybe it’s the bath that’s helping, or maybe it’s just his presence.

A minute later he returns to his post beside you bearing Grimm’s Fairytales and a tall glass of water, which he tells you to drink all of before he starts reading. Regardless of how unwell you feel, you find the energy to make sarcastic comments about the characters’ intelligence and the implausibility of the plot (it’s a fairytale, Spencer reminds you) but soon the soothing cadence of his voice enthralls you. The illustrations and the story capture your imagination as you rest your head and arms on the side of the tub.

More time has gone by than you realize when you begin to shiver in the now lukewarm water. Spencer notices, finally setting the book down.

“Ready to get out?”

You nod and he helps you step out of the tub, pulling you close and wrapping you with a fluffy towel. Absolutely no heed is given to the state of his own clothing as your wet skin soaks his shirt, or his own health as he breathes in your air.

“I’m gonna get you sick, Spence,” you say anxiously, making a feeble attempt to pull away. Spencer doesn’t even begin to allow it, holding you even tighter. The honesty of his words is reflected in his eyes as he looks down at you adoringly.

“I can live with the idea of spending a few days at home together.”

You lean into him further, too tired to hold much of your own weight up.

“I can’t believe you have to intentionally get sick to get time off work.”

“You’re definitely worth it.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back for a moment.

“And to think,” you muse, the words muffled by his shirt, "when we first met, you wouldn’t even shake my hand.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic

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bleedingoptimism · 4 months

Text

They hear the ‘ding’ of the elevator as they walk inside the very luxurious building and Robin grabs Steve’s hand and makes them run to the door yelling, “Hold! Please!”

A hand covered in rings and with short nails painted black appears from inside and holds the door for them. They get in as Robin breathes out little ‘thank yous’ under her breath and Steve smiles at the gentleman who helped them. His brows go up a little at how handsome the man is. He’s wearing black dress pants and a black silk shirt under an also black suit jacket. The whole look is expensive and the man wears it very well. With his long curly hair tied at the back of his neck, plus the rings, the nails, and the surprising amount of piercings in his ears, he looks like a rockstar. He has a cute nose and full lips that look very enticing and big beautiful brown eyes that are looking back at him.

Steve smiles once more and nods politely figuring he should stop staring. They have to go up like a billion floors or something so this is going to be a long elevator ride. Probably shouldn’t make their traveling companion uncomfortable.

He distracts himself by looking at Robin, fixing her hair behind her ear. She looks great. Slack pants and a tight dress shirt in grey tones with black suspenders adorned with metal cufflinks. Short hair loose and just the right amount of disheveled and a graphic eyeliner so sharp it could cut you. He would know. He did her makeup. They were asked to dress party chick but professional, which neither of them knew what the hell meant but Steve is pretty sure Robin nailed it. He just hopes he did a good job too.

He’s wearing a white thigh shirt of a soft material he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of and black dress pants, the ones that fit him like a second skin, paired with a big leather belt, just to add a little extra. He tries to inconspicuously check himself out in the mirrors of the elevator but accidentally meets eyes with the well-dressed man again. Who adverts his gaze quickly and Steve realizes he just caught him checking him out. He smiles to himself and looks down bashfully only to be horrified by what he notices because, his white shirt? The stupid fabric he can’t name? Totally sheer. Well not totally, but a little. Like he can see his nipples right now a little.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Robin, we need to go.” he suddenly says grabbing Robin by the back of the elbow.

Robin turns to him previously just nervously watching the floor numbers change and frowns worried, “What? We are already here, Steve! What do mean?”

“I need to go home and change Robin! I can’t-” He whispers to her, although he knows it’s in vain, there’s no way the handsome man isn’t about to hear a very embarrassing conversation.

“We are literally in the elevator. We are not going back home so you can change!” Robin huffs annoyed now that she knows it wasn’t anything more serious, “What’s wrong with your clothes?” she asks pinching his shirt between her fingers.

Steve turns his back to the man and crowds Robin, facing her, “Can you see my nipples?” he asks trying to keep his voice low but he hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle behind him.

Robin looks at him like he’s lost his mind but, as always she goes with it, “Yes?”

Steve puts his palms over them and gasps and Robin starts laughing “What are you doing?” she says between giggles at the same time Steve exclaims, “I can’t show our new boss my nipples!”

“Steve, what?! I thought it was on purpose! You know, just a peek, a little chess hair, a little nipple.” Robin says still laughing but stops when she sees Steve is looking actually distressed.

She huffs and runs her hands up and down his arms comfortingly.

“Why would I want to show them my nipples!” Steve groans and Robin shrugs.

“It’s sexy? We were asked to dress for a party”

“Why would I want to look sexy for work?” Steve asks again, still trying to convince Robin to let him go home and change.

But Robin tilts her head to the side, “But you can’t turn that off, though? Like, you are always sexy.”

Instantly his mood changes and he smiles and coos at her, “Aww, that’s so sweet, babe! But you are biased…”

Robin scoffs at being babied and raises an eyebrow, “How am I biased?”

“Because you love me!” Steve answers like it’s obvious. And Robin nods as if taking in the information.

“Okay. I see your biases and I raise you the following point: It’s objective. Because I’m a lesbian.”

Steve laughs, but he’s not the only one. For a second, Steve had forgotten they had an audience member. A very handsome audience member. He blushes, the guy must think he’s such an idiot. But at least he thinks they are funny. He turns back to his side and smiles at him again.

But Robin suddenly jumps a little beside him, like she had just noticed him, and says, “Stranger! Opinion?”

“Rob, no-” Steve starts but Robin leans over him to talk to the man, “Shirt. Good? Bad?” She says moving her hands in front of Steve as if she was showcasing him. Steve blushes some more and tries to keep a neutral face. So he ends up just white-man smiling awkwardly.

The man chuckles again and then looks at Steve from top to bottom and back again, “You look good,” he says smirking.

And Steve's blush deepens. But Robin either doesn’t notice or is enjoying it, because she keeps questioning him, “Good. What are thinking? Slutty or sexy?”

The man leans his head to the side, his eyes roaming over Steve's chest and Steve has to resist the urge to cover his nipples again.

“It’s sexy.” he says, voice deep and serious as if this was an important conversation and not Robin and Steve being dumbasses, “Like, sophisticated sexy.”

Steve shakes himself to try to make his blush go away and addresses the man, “I- well, thank you, first. And second, I’m sorry you were dragged into this. But would you want to look sexy meeting your new boss?” he asks him.

He taps his chin in thought and then says, “Your friend is right though, are already here. Just don’t flirt with them and you'll be fine!”

At that Steve purses lips and Robin snorts rudely. “That might be a problem,” she says.

The man laughs surprised and Steve can’t help but think he has a really nice laugh, “How?” he asks them.

“Steve has a little miscommunication problem,” Robin explains, “When he tries to be charming people think he's flirting.”

Steve crosses his arms and huffs making the few locks that fall on his forehead lift a bit and fall back down, “I have no idea what I’m doing wrong! I’m just trying to be nice..”

The man is looking at him with raised eyebrows and he blinks a couple of times before snickering, “Looks like your friend is right, again. You just can’t turn sexy off, uh?”

Robin laughs really hard at that and Steve goes back to full tomato status.

“I could've tried!” he says, not even sure what are they arguing about anymore.

“How?” Robin asks him amused.

“I don’t know, a big sweater? Something knitted, comfy?” he tries but they both shake their head at him.

“That sounds sexy too,” The man says and Steve frowns,

“Literally. How?”

“It gives off fuck vibes. Like you are really fuckable,” he says, and then his eyes go wide and he bites his lips.

Robin’s eyes go wide too and she snorts, looking at Steve who is just staring at the guy with his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Sorry!” the man says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “That was so out of line- I- oh! Saved by the bell it seems,” he says when the elevator dings, “This is my floor”

The doors open and Argyle and Jon are on the other side and Steve realizes, this is also their floor.

“Eddie!” Argyle says as the man moves towards him and they shake hands enthusiastically.

“Steve, Robin” Jon greets them with a smile as they slowly walk out of the elevator, watching Eddie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Ah! I hope you had a pleasant elevator ride and didn’t do anything awkward!” Argyle jokes completely oblivious, “I’m a little sad I didn’t get to introduce you guys!”

“...What do you mean?” Robin asks with a forced smile.

“Steve, Robin: This Eddie Munson!” Argyle says moving behind Steve and Robin and hugging them by the shoulders so they stand directly in front of Eddie, “Your new boss!”

#stranger things #steddie #meet cute #but awkward #kinda #i wrote something #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve is bringing sexy back (yeah)#eddie doesnt know how to act (yeah)

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hyukqi · 3 months

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size training with soobin !!! 😵‍💫

(lawd help me im lightheaded just by imagining it)

soobin lying back against the headboard with one hand brushing his messy hair back and the other with a loose grip on your waist. sweat dripping down his forehead while he has an cocky smile across his face scanning your body up and down as you straddle his hips. whimpering quietly “b-bin…” while he coos softly “shhh.. come on pretty girl, you can take it, can you?” >_<

lifting your hips to align his cockhead with your sopping entrance, feeling overwhelmed with his intimidating demeanor that turns you oh so subby for him !!! gasping with short “ah”s and “hnn..!!”s while you sink down on him feeling his thick, long, girthy cock scrape your insides… he’s too big you can barely take his tip in!!

“too much…” with sobs pouring from your mouth and tears pooling in your eyes before they drip onto his toned body. “so good for me baby… it can fit ‘m promise, tight pussy ‘s sucking on it so well…” soobin murmurs enamored by how fucking hot you look forcing your pretty pussy down his massive cock. god he’s so soft with you but at the same time you want to wipe off his stupid smirk that revels in your desperation.

going so dumb on his cock shuddering once you sink down completely, moaning loudly at his girth rubbing against your gummy walls and tip resting right against that one bundle of nerves <33 god you might as well see his bulge protruding your stomach. “fuck… good girl… my good girl.. so small and tiny” lips pressed against your neck, behind your ear, and trailing to your jaw..

hah… he’s such a boob guy so soobin would definitely massage your breasts mouthing at your nipples while you ride him !! sloppily rutting against him and lifting your hips just to slam down on his huge cock leaving you both in shambles but only one grows increasingly desperate “nnnghh~~!! b-bin… soobin… p-please just ah!” soobin softly biting your nipples with his hands guiding you down and him thrusting upward at the same time making you arch back in sweet pleasure @_@

what a stupid baby you are… babbling incoherent whines and moans while he puts in all the effort into molding you into his personal cocksleeve. so so dumb for him and his big cock that you end up cumming too quickly with your juices gushing out from under, coating him with your sticky mess <333 and if you thought you were done, you are so wrong !!!

“came so fast already.. you can give me another, mm?” soobin suddenly pushing you down and hovering over with your legs hooked on his shoulders. sounds of skin smacking fill up the entire room while he deliciously ruts his dick against your pussy with eyes closed to concentrate on fucking his girlfriend dumb.

he still has yet to cum too yknow?

#soobin smut #txt imagines #txt post #txt smut #size k!nk #size difference #size training #soobin big dick #i just know soobin has a big dick #i will never shut up about big dick soobin #6 ft tall handsome man fucking you stupid what’s there not to love #i need his dick so bad #i want soobin’s dick SO FUCKING BAD

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kamaluhkhan · 4 months

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you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

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strang3lov3 · 6 months

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Halloween Special

Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.

Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas

A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️❤️ btw it is my birthday🎂🎉🥳i'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3

“Why do all of these women’s costumes look like they’re from Victoria’s Secret?”, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. You’ve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now you’re sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy.

Halloween doesn’t make much sense post-apocalypse. If there’s any candy left, it’s all rotten. It’s not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The party’s tonight.

“Who knows,” Joel mumbles, “Just how it was.”

“Did you dress all slutty too?”

“‘Course I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.”

“Then here–”, you toss Joel a nurse costume, “Be a slutty nurse for the party.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. You’ve got girls’ and boys’ costumes sorted by size, and along with mens’ and women’s. “What are you gonna dress up as, then?”

“I dunno. Do I have to?”, Joel asks, “I don’t even wanna go.”

“Too bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. It’s mandatory.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What are you going as, then?” you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. “Knucklehead’, it reads. So fucking stupid. “Get it?”

“Ha-ha,” you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. “Do you want any help with those bags?” you ask.

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.”

“Will I see you tonight?”

“Depends. How slutty you dressin’?” Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.

“You know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.”

“Mmm. Definitely stayin’ home, then. Get the door for me?” Joel asks as he’s standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands.

“Sure,” you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea.

–

You get to Maria and Tommy’s around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. There’s red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. “Hey you,” he says. “What do we have here?”

You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, “Shut up and quit smilin’,” before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Tommy laughs too. “Joel?”

“Bingo,” you reply. You’re wearing Joel’s flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl.

“Costume is spot on, ‘cept for one thing,” you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, “You’re much easier on the eyes than he is.”

“Oh, stop it,” you blush and smack his arm. “Speaking of, Joel here yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. He’s gonna hate your costume, darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ hate it.”

“Good, that was the plan,” you smile mischievously.

“I like how you roll, sister,” Tommy drawls. “An’ in fact…” Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his baby’s nursery.

“What are we doing, Tommy?”

“Shh, be cool, be cool,” Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but he’s got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. “Now we’re cookin’,” he says. “Gotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.”

“Ahh,” you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. That’s good.

“And–” Tommy continues, “You gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?”

“Sure,” you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you–”

“Oh, very close,” Tommy laughs, “Nah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what I’m sayin’?” you shake your head no. “That’s okay. M’gonna teach ya.”

Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, you’re both in a fit of giggles. “God, sweetheart, I love ya. Joel’s gonna shit a brick.”

You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joel’s sitting. He’s at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. You’re still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Howdy, pardner.”

“Uh, hi,” Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way you’re both smiling, definitely causing trouble. “The hell are you two so happy about?”

“Nothin’.” you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Don’t pronounce the ‘ing’ at the end of those words. It’s ‘In’. Nothing, nothin’. Fucking, fuckin’. Something, somethin’. “Uh, Joel, what’s your costume?”

“What’s it look like? I’m a pirate,” he grumbles. He’s got an…interesting take on a pirate costume. He’s wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. You’re pretty sure there was a men’s pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier.

Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. “Well, don’t you look cuter than a dimple on a bug’s ass.”

“Did you just have a stroke?” Joel squints at you, “Wait a fuckin’ second–that’s my shirt.”

You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, “Well slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!”

Joel’s blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. You’ve got one less button closed than what he wears, and he’s fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. “Where did you even–never mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ain’t–”

“This ain’t funny,” you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly.

Tommy’s giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. “Don’t encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?” Goddamn little brothers.

“What, don’t y’all like my costume? I’m you.”

“‘Course you are,” Joel grumbles. “Though a witch would be more fitting,” He looks at you closer, “What the hell is wrong with your hair?”

“I’m a silver fox just like you, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not call me that. I can’t even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.” He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy.

“You,” a voice interrupts. It’s Maria, dressed as a black cat. She’s so cute. “You two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joel’s gonna wring her neck.”

Tommy shrugs. “It was her idea.”

Maria doesn’t care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel.

You make your way through the living room, check the porch. It’s only when you’re in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. “What in tarnation?” you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. “This bedroom ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take off your pants. Do it now,” he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joel’s - shirt. “Pants,” he scolds you, annoyed. “You keep my shirt on for this.”

You quit unbuttoning the shirt, “Thought you don’t like my costume?”

“I don’t,” Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. He’s all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because you’re wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are what’s really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine.

In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, “You’re hard as a match–wait,” you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, “Shit fire and save matches, you’re hard as a r–”

“Don’t have time for this,” Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. “You have no–” he kisses your other thigh, “Fuckin’ idea,” then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, “What you’re doin’ to me, wearin’ my shirt like that. M’gonna devour you, sweetheart.”

Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, “Fuck,” you moan, fingers carding through Joel’s hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you can’t stop. You struck gold. “Heaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!”

Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. “You done yet?”

“Darn tootin’,” You get no reaction from Joel. “Yes...I’m done.”

“So fuckin’ sick of you. S’not funny. I don’t talk like that.”

And he’s right back where he was. First he’s inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste. He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.

You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.

“Good lord,” Joel whispers against you. He eats you like he’s starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. “Fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” Your skin, your musk, your arousal. He’s addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs.

“Joel,” you cry, rocking your hips against his face. You’re moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.

He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.

“Yeah Joel, right there,” you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joel’s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone for him. “M’so close.”

“This ain’t about you,” he growls. “Y’got yer kicks already, didn’t you? Teasin’ me in your little getup. Pokin’ fun and bein’ mean t’me.”

“No, Joel, I wasn’t–”

“I don’t care, sweetheart,” Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. “I don’t care. This ain’t about you. M’doin’ this f’me. Don’t you dare come.”

But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just can’t help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and you’re limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.

When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he breathes.

“It was an accident,” you reply.

“Accident, my ass.” You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that you’re not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what you’re planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, you’re exhausting.

You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didn’t use his fingers on you. But you’re committed to what you have planned.

“Joel,” you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. “I have something to tell you.”

“What could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?” That devious smirk on your face…he knows what you’re about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, “For the love of god…Go on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.”

“YEEEE HAWWW!” you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The party’s loud, but not that loud. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “The fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like that…Christ almighty.”

He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. “My fuckin’ turn, now. Drivin’ me to drink,” He stuffs it into in your mouth, “Can you breathe?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.

He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he pants. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible.”

You can’t smile, can’t speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joel’s shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like you’re a painting, just for him.

“God,” Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.

Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.

He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. “Joel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.”

“Oh, yeah,” He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it,

“You weren’t s’posed to take this out of your mouth,” he says, “Least you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?” he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. “You do that for me?”

You smile. If only you weren’t all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you don’t have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“You really didn’t like my costume?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. “Bless your heart.”

You tilt your head, confused, “What’s that one?”

“What, Tommy didn’t teach you that one?” You mumble a no and Joel hums. “S’a classic.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Well, I’d tell you to ask Tommy but you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore,” Joel says. “Fuckin’ corrupted you. An’ it’s a shame, ‘cause I was startin’ to like you. God, he’s an asshole,” he complains, “And you are too, for that matter.”

You smile to yourself, then kiss Joel’s cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, “Your costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies. “Now get lost, you.”

When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. It’s Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, “What’d you teach her now?”

Tommy smirks. “Nothin’,” then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. “Yee-haw, cowboy.”

Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #mall rats #mall rats!joel #mall rats joel #halloween special #joel miller fic #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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rosie-writings · 2 months

Text

Hypnotize Me

Summary: You and the gang investigate a hotel haunted by a demon that influences people in ways none of you experienced before, making it the final push for Colby to solidify the relationship he always wanted with you.

Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, MFM (no Solby) threesome, unprotected sex, overstimulation, love bites, squirting, messy sex

Words: 7.6k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Hypnosis’ by Sleep Token

I was so damn tired.

The backpack met the thin floor with a thud that hung in the air. My eyes were too heavy to open fully, and maybe I led us all into the most haunted room—of course the largest suite as well—in the hotel, but I really couldn't care less.

“Oh—Wait this is actually nice,” Colby spoke first between the five of us. He brushed past me and walked into the room to our left.

”Wow it actually is,” I think Nate said as he rounded the corner. I don’t think my toes lifted off the roughened carpet as I dragged myself through the unrealistically large suite to find the bedroom. When I found it, I audibly moaned in relief.

”Holy shit! Maybe we didn’t need the second room, this bed is probably big enough to fit all of us.” Sam must have followed me with the camera but I ignored him as I face planted into the ivory linen sheets. They covered my peripherals, and my eyes rolled back in the suffocating darkness.

It was worth not checking for stains or bed bugs first.

Then there was a loud scuffle.

“Ah—! Jesus, I almost met god because of your backpack in the middle of the floor.” I huffed a breath in response; Colby must have tossed the backpack to the side of the bed but I didn’t flinch from the reverberation. Didn’t care that my laptop was in there at all.

Maybe I needed a shower; after two sleepless nights in a cold dangerous area proceeding a haunted hot as hell area, a shower and a dreamless night in the deepest cavern of this bed was first on my priority list.

Of course the boys had different plans. We were in the middle of our third video of the week. Thank god it was the last as well.

Between infiltrating an abandoned building outside of Portland to talking to whatever lurks in the woods of a small town somewhere in Texas, I was beat. Road kill, some would say, and dare I say I looked like it too. My hair was a mess and my nose was still red from the cold wind in the north but my neck was caked with old sweat from the humid heat of the faux winter in Texas. At least I could hear it in all of their voices too; this quickly became a midnight hunt rather than an afternoon hunt. If only we could get through this damn intro.

”—here she is, she's uh well—tired.” I lifted my head up slowly and looked up to see the camera and Sam’s tired eyes smiling down at me. “Don’t blame her; at least we all feel the way she looks.”

I flipped him off before he turned the camera towards himself.

”That was mean,” he laughed. I stuffed my face back in the now damp with sweat and hot breath duvet. “But fair. We’re going to rest this afternoon and after dinner, we have a meeting with one of the most skilled demonologists we’ve ever met.”

”Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve met one in every country we’ve filmed in,” Colby tagged on as I heard him approach Sam.

”Pretty soon we’ll be able to say we’ve met every demonologist—“

I don’t remember what the ending of Sam’s sentence entailed.

My eyes opened.

The room was dark besides the ambient orange light from the lamp beside the head of the bed. The curtains were shut. What time was it?

I lifted to my elbows but drew in a breath when I felt weight fall from me. I looked to my left and noticed how Colby rolled from his side to his back; his face turned away from me. He was knocked out. Was his arm across me as we slept?

Two nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night in the same situation except two bright eyes stared back at me. Even in the dim moonlight that shined through the broken ceiling of the abandoned building, his eyes glowed bright back at me. I told myself the only reason I fell back asleep in his arms was because I shivered my skin off from the chill. I felt his body shake as well which meant it must have been cold even with the sleeping bags. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been daydreaming about what his hands felt like on my back and what the warmth of his neck felt like on my face, my lips.

As I stretched on the bed and yawned as quietly as I could, I looked to my other side and I nearly choked myself half to death when Sam jumpscared me. He as well lay on his front with his head supported on his crossed arms. I didn’t know how I didn’t feel his side flush to mine. We slept in almost the same position.

My face burned when I pulled my leg off of Colby’s.

I slid backwards off the bed and popped my neck; my body ached from sleep uncomfortably. I was ready for a real sleep. Although, that nap did fare well. Nate slept on the other side of Sam and I smiled at the sight of his arm and leg wrapped around Sam’s body.

I snapped photos of them. For blackmail. Or, at this point, pure entertainment.

I grabbed my bag and headed into the bathroom. I held my breath for some reason as I turned on the light and nothing happened. It always crossed my mind that maybe—just maybe—everything was a lie and hauntings weren’t real because of evenings like this one. We all were zonked on the bed—aside for poor Seth who coiled up on one of them sofas in the main room across from the bedroom—and not a thing happened.

Then again I'm sure I could have time traveled during that nap and I wouldn't have known a thing.

The warm water almost lulled me to sleep then and there, but the chilly tiles kept a pep in my step. I wished I had this room to myself. I imagined it then; kicking the boys to the floor so I could have the largest bed I had ever seen all to my clean self.

I didn't do that.

By the time I was finished blow drying my hair and making myself as presentable as possible for the camera while keeping my future bed time routine simple, I heard commotion in the rest of the suite. I pulled a new pair of black jeans from my bag and pulled on a thermal long sleeve and a hoodie on top of it with rushing hands. What was the plan now?

“Yeah man, I have no idea.” I only caught the end of Colby’s gentle statement when I opened the door. His eyes found mine and I watched intently to find out what they were saying.

”Seth is still asleep,” he said.

”And Sam wants to be,” Sam spoke into Nate’s side. He held onto Nate and tried to curl into him comfortably, but Nate scooted away with every advance Sam made. I scoffed a laugh as I passed the pathetic three on the bed.

”And Nate wants to get this show on the road or else he won’t ever get up from this bed. Jesus, it’s damn comfortable.”

”It really is though,” Colby said.

”I don’t think the nap did anything for me even though it was really nice,” I admitted. Colby aimed his attention at me as I dropped my bags under the covered window on the side of the bed he sat on.

”Yeah, I’m really tired still as well.”

“Let’s get energy drinks and some food before we miss the meeting,” Sam said as he too yawned and stretched.

”Someone wake up Seth.”

”Oh right,” Nate laughed as he got up to do just that. “Can’t forget poor sleeping Seth.”

”He looks so cold,” Sam laughed.

”Not as cold as two nights ago.”

”Don’t remind me,” he moaned.

“We’re here with Dr. Smith; the renowned demonologist who’s especially familiar with all of the paranormal activity that’s happened here at this hotel,” Sam spoke to the camera.

As much as dinner was amazing fuel, as soon as we got back into the lobby of the hotel and started the meeting with Dr. Smith, my eyelids were heavy again. Sure, we missed two nights of restful sleep, but how tired was too tired?

A subtle flinch on my hand yanked my attention from the interview, and my eyes met Colby’s whose eyebrows rose with question. ‘I’m good,’ I nodded. ‘Tired,’ I mouthed and he nodded heavily with his eyes closed. His eyes were darker than I had seen them, and when I looked back in Nate’s direction, I noticed the distraction in his eyes.

Were we all truly this spent? We all had taken many trips with Sam and Colby through the years, and almost every week was filled with three or four high adrenaline videos to get done. The traveling mixed with the paranormal adrenaline and the unrestful sleep promised hazy days and many many energy drinks, but this? This was different.

”Seth—“ My attention was pulled by Sam’s voice.

”Shit I’m sorr—“

”It’s fine,” Dr. Smith said. “If you all don’t know, the main issue visitors have dealt with in this hotel is fatigue.” My stomach dropped. “The souls that make pit stops here often get trapped and are weary from living in purgatory in these walls.” Somehow a burst of energy coursed my veins at this insight; at least my suspicions weren’t too outlandish.

”This makes a lot of sense,” Colby sighed.

“We’re outrageously tired and took a three hour nap,” Sam laughed. Dr. Smith nodded.

”If it’s already affecting all of you this much, you might want to be careful when you go to the third floor then; people are known to pass out very frequently because of—well the things that live there.”

”Why—What’s on the third floor and why does it make people pass out?”

”We believe there is a demon who stays in this hotel, specifically the third floor, and it influences the spirits and human people who come. It doesn’t like to be alone, but it also doesn’t enjoy the company of people so it depletes energy quickly.”

”Almost like an omen for them to leave?” Sam questioned.

”Maybe,” Dr. Smith said as his head fell to the side with some disagreement.

”Or is it more so wanting something to do, like, does it enjoy messing with people or something?”

“I think that’s the case,” he responded as he pointed to Colby. “It might be bored and it may want human energy to feed on and manipulate.”

The way that Dr. Smith expressed the demon’s wants sent chills down my arms and it felt like hot air held my ears. Maybe this would be a long night, and maybe some decent activity would come of it.

Hopefully all this fatigue wasn’t for nothing.

”I’m still on edge about all of… this,” Seth said as his hands gestured to everything around us. We walked through the hotel with quiet voices and the camera filming on Sam’s side.

”Same, but what are you feeling?” Colby asked.

”I’m freaked out about how we all are equally feeling the demon’s effect already and we haven’t even tried to taunt it or anything.”

”I mean, it could just be because of our trip,” Nate spoke. The voice of reason. “We barely slept.”

”Yeah but all of us took long naps and we all feel like zombies even after the drinks.” No one argued that.

As we walked and talked and introduced the hotel to the camera, Colby made sure to keep up with my pace. I couldn’t decipher whether I imagined it or I was the one keeping up with him, but for some reason, all my attention honed in on him and his body and every motion it made.

And when we turned the corner and Sam quickly stopped in front of me, I halted in my steps and Colby’s body collided into mine. I held my breath so I wouldn’t gasp; we all were quiet. Seth had heard something and Sam whispered to the camera.

I backed up into him tighter when his hands that held onto my waist dug in deeper. His breath skipped some and he let go of me and passed me with a raised whisper when Sam asked him something. It took me a moment. A dazed moment. My tired brain was so overwhelmed with everything that suddenly I felt intoxicated. Intoxicated by the fatigue, intoxicated by the lack of effected air conditioning, intoxicated by Colby who seemed to also be unable to stop touching me and thinking about me—

What was going on?

I lagged behind the boys as they walked down the hallway. Colby turned to me. His eyes were dilated, face flushed, hand reached back towards me.

”Come on, don’t fall behind,” he whispered. I took his hand and didn’t say anything because I swore my heart replaced my vocal cords in my throat.

Even as it got hotter when we ventured to the second floor and even as the sheen of sweat in between our palms became more so a dripping pool, I didn’t let go of him. And he didn’t let go of me.

“Are you okay?” He whispered down to me. I nodded slowly.

”Yeah, just hot as fuck.”

”Are you good?” Sam’s louder voice caught my attention and I looked up. Nate spoke animatedly to Seth with a hand pointed down the hall and Sam had turned towards us. The camera was to his side.

”Yeah,” Colby answered for me. “We—It’s hot as hell and can barely stay awake.”

”I know,” Sam sighed breathlessly. Sweat too lined his face. “Dr. Smith did say that they have perpetual issues with the AC on the third floor, and even during the winter it gets this hot.”

”Couldn’t imagine the summer here,” Nate said as he spun into our conversation.

”I’m really wanting to get to the third floor to test some things out.”

”Like the Estes method?” Seth asked. Sam nodded quickly.

We were on our way and my heart burned in my chest. I gripped Colby’s hand tighter as my head rushed with more elevation. The elevator was slow but my pace was slower, and the fatigue gnawed at my bones.

”You’re not going to pass out are you?”

”No,” I shook my head. “I mean not yet at least.”

”Don’t worry,” Sam said. “We’ll catch you.”

”Shut the hell up,” I snapped as the elevator doors opened. Nate led the way. “Of all of us, I trust you to purposely miss me.”

”Yeah that’s only because Colby would have caught you before you even started to fall—“

Seth’s spiteful jeer was cut off by a loud bang at the end of the hallway. Sam and Nate rushed forward around the corner with the camera.

“There’s literally nothing,” I heard Sam’s whisper. I ignored the smirk on Seth’s face as he gave a look to Colby. We three turned the corner as well.

Nothing. An average looking empty hotel room shined back at us. Not even a member of housekeeping nor their supplies showed any kind of appearance.

“We’re in a hotel for fuck’s sake,” I whisper. “It could be a damn guest.”

”True,” Nate said. We slowly walked backwards.

”Alright,” Sam started and lifted the camera. Real filming time. “The demon’s known to be most responsive in the conference room on the third floor, which is where we’re headed.”

”Yeah because for some reason this demon has a lot of business to get done,” Seth said. We all looked at him. I burst out with one singular laugh and slapped my knee.

”Good one.”

The conference room was larger than I anticipated and dark and musty. We left the lights off and turned on all our flashlights and faced them towards the ceiling to give more of an expansive ambient light. As Colby set up the rem pod, I held an emf device and Sam prepared Seth to go under on the Estes method. For as empty as this room appeared to be, it sure as hell felt full.

Tables lined the back wall while chairs were stacked near them. A few stragglers of chairs peppered the room but other than that, only two gigantic crystal chandeliers decorated the room other than the hardly touched plush carpet with intricate designs.

The heat around my face didn’t get better. Only worse. I could hardly breathe. My vision was hazy and it was as if the air suddenly had a film of white air over taking the much needed oxygen. I decided that I was just crazy and sleep deprived when none of the guys complained about it.

”If there’s a spirit in here, let us know by coming close to one of our devices,” Sam started. His voice echoed around the room. “If you would like to speak with us you can do so by touching these devices,” he pointed to the rem pod and emf. “Or you can send words into this and it will read them back to us—“

Present

My heart stopped at the shrill of the ovilus.

”Thank you so much, I’m Sam, these are my friends—“ We each said our names. “We’re just here to talk and nothing more. Can we ask you some questions?”

”The rem pod—“ Colby rushed out. We all looked at the brightness of its lights. The rem pod never seemed so bright and loud to me than at that moment.

”Yeah that’s the rem pod it’s pretty intense,” Sam said. ”How many of you are there?”

Full

”The ovilus said full—

Meeting

”Does this mean a meeting full of spirits are here?” Sam asked. The rem pod stopped.

”If you have a lot to say and would like to talk to Seth in the spirit box, then move back to that—“

The rem pod went off again and stayed on

Sam turned to us with wide eyes and I stared back at him unblinking.

”Get—Alright Seth get on the spirit box,” Colby told him.

Seth sat in the chair blindfolded and he set the headphones on his head. The moment he went under I too felt a rush of dizziness.

”Hey—“ Colby grabbed my hand. “You good?”

”The energy drink must be making me jittery or something,” I said. “I’m so damn tired like I can’t keep my eyes open but I’m faster.” He nodded with a slight grin.

”Hopefully it’s just that—“

”Sam,” Seth spoke in a monotone voice.

”Hi, yeah that’s me. Who am I talking to, what’s your name?”

”Many.”

”There’s many of you, aren’t there? Are you all trapped here?” Sam must have been referencing Dr. Smith who said that the spirits here are trapped in purgatory.

”Not likely.” Seth’s voice twisted in my chest like a knife; I didn’t know what it was but I couldn’t breathe and the tone in his voice told me something different.

”Is there a way for you all to leave?”

”There was just—just a noise I think a sigh? Or a laugh? I don’t know— Irrational.” Sam’s head cocked to the side at the obscure word the spirit box tagged on to Seth’s description of the sound.

”What’s irrational?”

”Maybe it’s saying we’re irrational to think they are trapped,” Colby told him.

”Probably. Do you like staying here?”

“Feeding.” Seth's single word alone sent chills across your arms as if it didn't push 90 degrees in the room.

“Are you feeding on energies? I know a lot of people stay here—”

“Love it when you… I didn't catch the rest.”

“You love feeding on the energies or something?” Sam's patient tone never ceased to shock and impress me. The way he so confidently handled the discussion was something entirely beyond my capabilities. If whatever this was fed on any energy at all, it must have been mine because as my fear increased the remaining ounce of my energy decreased.

“Dr. Smith was talking about how this was like a super busy place for humans and spirits, and it's easy for them to get trapped since the supposed demon loved stealing the energy—” Colby spoke before Seth interrupted him.

“You bet, you bet I do—No for real guys that's what it said before a laugh. I'm shaking,” Seth rushed. Colby shot a glance at Sam the same time Sam turned to him.

“Why do you stay here and take the energy—”

“It—” Seth laughed as his cheeks blushed pink. “It's literally just a girl moaning.”

“Moaning? What the fuck?” Sam whispered back at Colby.

“Do you like to trick people here? Are you bored or something so you feed off their energy for entertainment?” Colby asked.

“I love it, I love it, I love—So stupid.” My head turned to the side in confusion; what the hell did that mean?

“Are you calling us stupid because we don't understand?” Sam asked.

For some reason I raised my voice next.

“Or are you calling the people you play with stupid—”

“Fucking bitch.”

“What the fuck,” Sam gasped as he looked at me.

“Damn sorry for speaking,” I laughed.

“You will be.” The boys gasped and looked at me as I stared at a completely oblivious Seth who still rocked back and forth in time with the jumping channels in his headphones.

“That's—That’s a threat,” Colby raised his voice. He took a step in front of me.

“You can't touch us or mess with us, you und—”

“Too late.”

“Too late as in too late because we’re all tired?” Nate asked.

“Yeah maybe it's already influenced us like Dr. Smith—” It cut Colby off.

“You'll feel it. Can't you?”

“Yeah we're pretty tired,” Sam replied, still somehow patient and confident. “Is that you making us tired?”

“Even more than.”

“More than what? You're making us more tired than usual?”

“Idiot.” Sam took a step back with a laugh.

“I'm tired of getting roasted by a demon,” he laughed. I wanted to laugh with them, but the fire started at my knees. Yes, it was hot in the room, but a particular ache that I wished was new spread lower than it typically did.

It was hot. And I wasn't just sweating.

“What’s your name?” Colby spoke up that time.

“It's my pleasure.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked in our direction. Colby shook his head. I stared intently at Seth still as if I couldn't look away. The fairness of his skin drew me in and it took a full seven more seconds until I realized the fire in my legs raised to my mid thigh and even higher.

I ached.

“What's your pleasure, what do you like to do to people?” Colby asked.

“Everything.”

My stomach fell out of its place.

“Everything,” Sam gasped nsd Colby quickly raised his hand.

“You would do everything to us?”

“Somethings.”

“You cannot hurt us or follow us home, you must stay here—”

“Oh trust me.”

“I don't like this,” I finally choked out.

“Yeah me neither,” Colby’s voice gently replied.

“Should we get him out?”

“One more question then we will,” he replied to Sam.

“What do you want to do to us?”

“it's already been done.”

“What? What have you—”

“Bye.”

And the headphones yanked from Seth’s head and fell to his feet by themselves.

The five of us stood frozen; all eyes peeled to the headphones that now reverberated with the shrill of empty changing channels.

The heat pooled in my stomach. I needed to change underwear.

“Holy shit—“ I finally break and take a step back.

”I know, oh god. What was—What the fuck—”

“What the hell just happened?” Colby cried and cut off Nate.

”Let’s—Let’s go back,” Sam choked out. “We need to get out of here.” Seth was deathly still and soaked in what had just happened to him. Nate’s hand held the back of his neck as we all left the conference room.

“Did—Did we get anything good at least?”

“Oh my god, let me tell you what happened.” On the way back to our rooms many stories above, Sam told Seth the entire story.

“How was that possible?” Colby finally broke. He spun around and walked backwards so he could see us all. “It literally stole enough energy from us to throw the fucking headphones down!”

”Which makes sense. I might pass out,” Seth said.

“Let’s hurry.” Colby grabbed my hand.

The ache wouldn’t leave. It was like it attached itself to my legs and spread up, up, and up— the heat in between my legs was unbearable now. I needed sleep. I needed to pass out. I needed—

I looked at Colby as we entered the elevator. His eyes were nearly devoid of color. We all were drained and tired, and this strange feeling like a spirit of desperation or something, came over all of us so suddenly that even Sam forgot to pick up the camera and press record again.

Nate and Seth went straight to their suite and Sam led us into ours. My heart pounded against my ribs as I crossed the threshold. Eyes. I felt their eyes on me but I didn’t turn back. Too tired, too drained, I didn’t know what else, or how much else, I could handle. I kicked my shoes off if I walked and didn’t even mind that they were in the middle of the floor. I flopped on the bed only for them to follow me.

Sam pulled a rem pod out of the backpack and set it up in the corridor between the first room and the bedroom while he set another room in between the corridor of the bedroom to the bathroom.

”Just in case,” he told Colby as he shot him confused looks.

The anxiety that welled in my chest depleted when Sam yawned and slipped out of his hoodie. Colby’s eyes were closed and I couldn’t tear my eyes from his dark lips when he licked them wet.

”I’m so ready to pass out,” Sam said. He flicked the lights off.

Colby made a sound as he moved and I heard him as well strip clothes off. What was happening? It sounded like their heads were caught in a fog as well and we couldn’t think. Our decision making skills were non-existent and when I slipped under the blankets in between them, it didn’t feel off from any other situation we had been in. At least Sam plugged his phone in. I could have left mine in that conference room and it wouldn’t have mattered to me.

The darkness of our room struck me before my head hit the pillow and I was out.

My throat was a dry fire and my skin turned to lava. My eyes peeled open and swirls of blues and whites from my forgotten dream mix with the darkness of the room around me. I whined. It was fucking hot. I sat up straight because if I didn’t get the hoodie off of me immediately I was certain I would die.

”Hey,” I heard Colby’s half asleep voice. I only whined again in response. He sat up. “What’s wrong—“

”So fucking hot I’m going to be sick.”

”Here, here,” his soft voice replied, and his hands quickly snaked under my hoodie. It was a frenzy to get everything off. I didn’t know what came over me, us, but before I knew it my hoodie hit the floor on top of his leather jacket and my thermal came off with it. My back hit the bed again as he hovered halfway over me. “Better?” He whispered.

”I—I don’t—I need—“

”What do you need?” My hands already fumbled with the button of my skinny jeans. Colby’s eyes trailed down my body and I didn’t cower in the sight. His hands swatted mine away and I lifted my hips so he could drag the damp fabric from them. Only when my jeans met his on the floor did I realize that he too only wore underwear.

”Something—anything—“

”Fuck, it’s not just me who feels it then, huh?” I shook my head quickly. He wavered in his confidence. Even in the darkness of the room I watched his head shake. His arms shook as well and he fought within himself it seemed.

”Do whatever you want, Colby.” So he lowered himself down on me. When did my legs spread?

And when I felt how hot and hard he was already, questions poured through my mushy brain faster than I could process them. Was this an effect from the demon? If so, what kind of demon was it? Were we not just tired out of our minds but also horny out of our minds as well? What if this wasn’t even the demon? Did I really like Colby more than I was willing to admit? Was Sam alright? Was he even still asleep?

A moan hitched in my throat when Colby purposely thrusted against me slowly. My back arched and he pinned me down by my throat.

”Sh,” he demanded. “This is what I want. You still gonna let me do it?”

I couldn’t think. Nothing rational repeated disagreements in my mind because for far too long now I’ve wanted this too.

I nodded frantically.

”Please, I’ll beg you to do it if you won’t.” He laughed once.

”I don’t think I can give you the time to beg this time.” This time? More sounds so far from myself escaped my tense throat when his thumb dipped into my mouth. He pulled at my teeth then my bottom lip and even though I know he only tried to find where my mouth was, my eyes still rolled back at the feeling and bitter taste.

And his mouth was on mine.

He drank down my moans and pushed my legs back so that he could thrust against every part of me. I couldn’t even call any part of this dry or clothed because my arousal was enough to saturate both of our clothes to ruin.

My stomach couldn’t keep up; it twisted under my skin and my heart pounded in my ears with every lick of his tongue behind my teeth. My hands chased up his skin from his pantline to his neck where I held tightly. I couldn’t get enough of it even if our sweat mended together past the point of comfort and our noises and movements were definitely harsh enough to wake Sam.

When he pulled away, I sucked on his tongue hoping to bring him back.

”Holy fuck—“ he gasped as I let go of his tongue. It was then and there that I decided I could never get over his taste and I needed more and more of it until I was addicted.

And I heard a heavy breath from Sam.

He did too because both of us shot wide glances at him. Of course Colby didn’t stop the obscene movements against me. Thankfully. Colby looked back at me, but I still watched Sam sleep. His head tossed from being disturbed and my heart dropped when I realized that in a matter of seconds, Sam’s eyes would be on us.

”Look at me,” Colby hummed and of course I did. “Please, can I…” He mumbled as his fingertips dipped under the band of my underwear.

”Fucking god—obviously,” I whined and writhed under him because why wouldn’t he hurry the fuck up—

My underwear were halfway down my thighs when we froze in our tracks; a moan that wasn’t mine.

“What—“

And another.

We looked at Sam simultaneously and I couldn’t look away from him this time.

”Maybe it—Maybe it’s not just us too,” Colby aimlessly spoke as he hurried to get my underwear off my legs. It was impossible to keep still. The friction overstimulated my every nerve but it also wasn’t enough. I needed more, more of something, of anything.

”Fuck.” Another drawn out moan interrupted us and I couldn’t contain the fluttering in my chest from the sound of Sam’s voice. He must have still been asleep because he moved lazily. I watched him as Colby ducked under the blanket.

Just as Colby’s mouth met my thighs, Sam thrusted up into the sheets.

He looked for something, anything, and in that moment I understood. I questioned, something in me truly did because this was incredibly unlike us, but I couldn’t think straight. Not with this haze flooding my neck and this cotton stuffed in my brain.

”Colby—“ I gasped the second his tongue met me. My hand found his hair and it only pulled a moan from him.

“What the fuck.” And there it was. A groggy voice next to me. I looked away from him in fear of my own red blush but I forgot how dark the room was. “Oh shit—“ It sounded like Sam came to and understood the situation now. “What the hell, why do I feel—“

”Sam.” I didn’t mean to hum his name the same way I did Colby’s. Colby moaned as he sucked me sweetly; I nearly blacked out from the heat of his tongue. And when his fingers teased me? My hips writhed for him. “Please oh my god, more just—inside already,” I whined and thank the heavens Colby didn’t put up a fight.

I didn’t even try to conceal my moans anymore, not when his fingers filled me and his tongue stimulated me so perfectly. Even in the darkness I saw and felt the head rush; my vision pounded with stimulation and shock.

Muffled moans caught my attention and I looked at Sam. He had turned to his front and although his eyes were closed and pointed down, he still faced me. His arms were crossed under his pillow and I knew he tried to fall back asleep.

He was closer though.

And I didn’t disregard the way his hips thrusted repeatedly into the mattress.

”Colby please, god I’m so close.”

”I know,” he whispered but pulled away. I wanted to complain but how could I when his kisses and tongue trailed up my body like that?

“Sam he’s—“

”I know,” Colby laughed. “It’s okay.”

“How do you know?”

”Look at him,” he laughed. “He would have told us to fuck off by now.” I don’t know why I would ever question Colby’s judgment of Sam. He knew him like he knew himself; I should have known they could communicate without even speaking at this point.

”It—It's okay,” Sam choked out. “Fuck—Colby, fuck her.”

I swore I met god from the sound of those words on his wet tongue.

A string of inaudible expletives rushed from Colby's mouth as he crawled up to eye level with me.

And he couldn't even wait.

He pulled himself from his underwear instead of taking them off, and my head tossed back when his wet tip slipped across me. My hands grappled for anything to hold on to for support. I couldn't contain myself or control my movements, not when Colby felt like heaven incarnate.

Sam's hand came up and pinned my wrist to the pillow next to my head. I whined for release but didn't do a good enough job escaping his grasp; his fingers slid up and interlocked with mine.

“Can I? Inside you?” Colby gasped.

“Inside me, fill me up please. I need—You know how bad I—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned before pushing himself fully in.

A moan punched out of me and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. Sam moaned as well and held my hand tighter.

And as Colby fucked me like we would have no other chance, Sam thrusted into the bedding and pushed his hip against mine.

“Feel—Oh my god you feel better than I imagined,” Colby moaned.

“You imagined me?”

“No shit,” Sam bit back in spite. Colby only moaned louder and shoved my knees back further. My moans lifted to nearly a scream and Colby clasped his hand around my throat.

“Sh, only I can hear you, baby.”

“And Sam, right?”

“Fuck,” Colby laughed. Maybe I couldn't see him but I heard the blush. “Only if you can be good for him too.”

“I can be good,” I whined. Sam moaned and his hip pushed tighter into mine.

“Let go Sam—My hand, let go,” I forced out through the moans, and he did. Immediately I lowered my hand in between us and slipped it under him.

“Oh shit!” He cried and allowed me to wedge my way in between the bed and his insanely wet arousal. Between my sweat covering my skin alongside Colby’s and our pre-come saturating our legs and sheet, I should have felt disgusted. But it was heaven on earth. I wanted to drown in them. “Oh my god, you'll make me cum so fast,” Sam gasped into the pillow.

“You're doing so good,” Colby's moan turned into a laugh. “Like holy shit—I'm fucking close too.”

“Harder, please Colby, fuck me harder,” I whined and his head tossed back. His skin slipped under my nails from the sweat so I couldn't leave marks so I yanked him down by the neck. His hand supported himself next to my head and he moaned as I sucked harsh bruises into his collarbone.

And I pushed my hand tighter against Sam. His underwear were soaked and I just needed a little more—

“Oh—Oh my god yes, yes, yes—” Sam moaned as I shoved my hand in his underwear. I stroked him in time with his thrusts and there was something about the way his hips shook that ingrained in my mind.

Colby gouged his fingers into the thick of my thighs and I couldn't help but hope there were marks for me to fawn over in the morning. And it was his turn.

He leaned over me, and with his free hand, he held the side of my neck and kissed me into the pillows. I couldn't breathe between his violent thrusts and with his intoxicating taste in my throat, I let go of my body and let the boys fully take over it.

Then another arm came up and pulled my leg back.

“Sam—” I gasped his name when he inserted his arm under my leg between me and Colby. A gasp expelled from my used throat when he swirled his fingers against me. “Shit! There, there like that, oh my god!” I all but screamed.

“Oh fuck yeah, does it feel good baby?” Colby moaned. “Does it take both of us to please you, make you feel good?”

“Please! I'm so—”

“Holy shit, the rem pod!” Sam groaned.

And he was right.

I opened my eyes to find blue and red lights flickering in the dark abyss of a room and a loud shrill combined with our moans. Of course he was even prettier fucked out of his mind. Colby's hair stuck in every direction, and his lips parted in pleasure so I could see the gleam of saliva on his tongue. Fuck, I wanted him inside of me. Not even if he curled up in my bones would he be close enough.

“What—What time is it?” Colby breathlessly tried to ask in a serious tone.

Of course they would still be on the grind for work while fucking my brains out.

Sam moaned as he leaned and grabbed his phone—

“Holy fucking shit no way; it's 3:33am now 3:34.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Colby gasped. I didn't give a fuck. I needed him deeper, closer.

“More please—”

“So needy, baby. Oh my god. Want more? Alright, let me—” Colby rose to his knees and pushed my thighs back again. “Sam finger her, use your fingers, yeah like that.”

My gasp caught in my throat when Sam slipped his fingers lower and joined Colby inside of me. This time I think I blacked out but I'm not sure; when I open my eyes, my tears blur what little exposure the rem pod lights give us. Colby’s blue hued face gleamed back at me blurry and Sam's moans flooded my side.

“I'm cumming—” I whined. Colby nodded his head furiously.

“Shit yeah, cum—cum for us,” he praised. And Sam fucked his fingers deeper and finally found that spot inside of me—

My orgasm crashed into me before I could prepare myself and I closed my eyes and allowed the pleasure to take me.

Sam's moan was next, and I felt him cover us with his warm fluid. I made sure I stroked him harder until his hips painfully pinned my hand down and rendered it unable to move. His moans turned into whines from overstimulation and that was when Colby broke as well.

“I'm—Holy shit I'm going to—”

“Fill me, Colby. Please I need your cum. Cum inside of—” I barely finished my sentence before he choked out a loud moan as well. With my name on his lips, I swore I could have finished again and again, nevermind Sam's fingers that still harshly worked me.

It took a second or two and then Colby cried out with overstimulation.

“Sam—” he gasped, but as he pulled out, Sam got up to his knees and pinned me down.

“Please, please, please! It's so much!”

“Let go, baby. Let go when you need to—”

“Sam! Oh my god—”

Another wave of pleasure drowned me and I held onto his other arm as he fingered me through the intensity of it all. After another few seconds, he pulled his dripping hand away. My entire body violently shook as I watched a cup full of my fluids and Colby's release drip from his hand.

“Holy shit, you're so damn hot,” Colby laughed as he leaned back over me and kissed me again. He wiped the tears from my face.

It took a few moments.

For us to come back to ourselves, find our wits again.

The rem pod never stopped.

Sam walked to the bathroom to clean up since he was the dirtiest.

“Holy shit, what pervy ghosts—”

The rem pod stopped.

“No fucking way,” Colby burst out laughing and I covered my face with my arms. “Stop,” he laughed and pulled my arms back. “How can you blame them? You're so hot, so sexy, the most beautiful thing—”

“Alright ew, get a room,” Sam jeered from the bathroom.

“You're judging as if you didn't just finger her with my dick on your hand—”

“Alright I didn't think you'd say anything about that.”

“Aw, what, are you embarrassed that you touched his dick for the first time?” I teased.

“And it's the fucking last time too; that was disgusting,” Sam complained as he washed his hands harsher.

“I would have expected it to definitely not be the first time—”

“Shut the hell up,” Colby laughed. “Sam’s just judging me for telling you how hot you are, how beautiful and good you are—” I watched a sliver of Sam's reflection in the mirror as he smiled and shook his head. “—How much I love you.”

My stomach dropped and my eyes looked straight to Colby. The bathroom orange light drenched his face with an overwhelming warmth I wanted to swim in.

“Colby—” He held my face in his hands. “Love you.” The sentence only just fell from my lips before his met mine.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said. “There's all the time in the world for the lovey stuff after I leave.”

“And this is the only time you'll be here for this,” Colby snapped back. My eyes widened. I didn't anticipate Colby's genuine hostility towards his best friend over me.

“Colby,” Sam laughed. “I know. Obviously I know: she's been all yours from the start.”

“What the hell?” I shrieked. “Am I the only one who knows about this?” The two burst out laughing but not without a thick blush on Colby's already flared cheeks.

“Seems like it,” Sam laughed as he pulled on fresh underwear and clothes.

“Okay,” Colby sighed. I gasped as his arms tucked under my worn out body. “Let's clean up so we can actually have a good sleep.”

I held onto him as he carried me to the bathroom. He turned on the shower as I pulled my hair back to keep it from getting wet.

“Oh my—” He gasped a laugh when he looked in the mirror. Love bites lined his collarbones and slipped down his chest. “How are you so damn good at that?”

“I don't know, I guess you bring out the worst in me.”

“You have to be careful because I'll bite you back.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you should or else you're all talk and no bite—Ah!” With that coy smile he slapped my ass and pushed me towards the shower.

“Get in the damn water, you're dripping cum everywhere.”

I couldn't open my mouth as Colby dropped to his knees in front of me. Ever so gently, his hands cleaned my skin with soft body wash until I was clean and smelled like myself again. He kissed my skin and trailed up my thigh.

“Don’t,” I sighed as I brushed his hair back. It was soaked from being directly under the water. He looked up at me darkly; eyes bright blue again.

“Can't wait until we go home.”

“And why's that?”

“Then I can finally have you in my bed like I've always wanted.”

“Colby is—” My tongue tied in my throat as the bashful smile fell. My heart slowed. I licked my lips. He stood to his feet. “—is that something you've wanted? Permanently?”

A slow nod from him had never felt this way before.

“I've wanted you, permanently.”

“Let me go home with you then.” My arms wrapped around his neck. “I've wanted to be yours forever by now.”

And he tossed his head back into the water with a wide smile.

“Fucking finally.”

The morning wasn’t kind.

The sunlight bit at our sensitive eyes, with zero remorse, as we tried to get ourselves together and ready for check out. We all were spent. Now it was time for a long—long—break in our own beds.

When we made it to the lobby, it took all but three seconds for the other two guys to shine widened shocked eyes back at us. Of course I messed up; I miscalculated the height of Colby’s neckline last night, but could anyone blame me?

”Colby—You—Last night?” Nate gasped. They looked at me.

“I—“

”Sam?” Nate looked at him. His face flushed pink as a boyish smile pulled at his lips.

“Hey now,” his hands rose in self defense. “It wasn’t me and it’s not happening again if you really want to know.” Colby tried his best to hide a wide smile, but as he hooked his arm around my neck, he broke a laugh.

”Jesus Christ.”

A/N: I am new here—to Tumblr (other than my account from 2013-2016 that popped off real hard rip)—and also Sam and Colby. I write predominately one shots for Dream Team, Corpse Husband, and Sam and Colby now. I dumped all my works on Wattpad—easy reads—and I got up to 3 Million reads on my Corpse Husband one shot collection, but Wattpad smote that shit.

Request anything—outside of my listed interests, I’m open to Jake Webber and Johnnie Guilbert but I don’t know much about them—and I will write it. I focus on 18+ writing so request anything in your wildest dreams, and if it somehow is too wild for me, I will let you know (but that has yet to happen).

Love, Rosie

#sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #solby #colby brock smut #colby x reader #colby brock x reader #minors dni #18+ only

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