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wreckedandpolemic · 1 month

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white and gold - matty healy

(mdni) in which you become both entangled and enamoured with your father's boss. 13007 words.

warnings (buckle up): 18+, problematic age gap, masturbation, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism, praise, degradation, heavy daddy kink, slight dumbification, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), filth filth filth filth filth!

Your heels click against the tiled floor as you stroll across the lobby of your father’s office, giving a winning smile to the familiar security guard as he waves you through. Humming along to the song that plays over your headphones as the lift rises, you wonder idly why your father wanted to have lunch with you today; he had been oddly insistent that morning. The doors ding open and you step out into the office, fairly quiet at lunch hour. Men in suits mill around, their gazes catching on you and darting away so they can pretend their lurid thoughts aren’t painted plain as day on their faces.

Scanning the room, you don’t immediately spot the man you’re looking for. On a closer look, your father’s thinning hair and crisp suit are nowhere to be seen. Strange, again; he’s always here to meet you when he wants to take you out for lunch. Your searching gaze lands on a man heading for the lift, the sight of him arresting, practically rooting you to the spot. Greying curls haloed around a sharp, handsome face, lips plush red. A silver hoop shines in one of his ears, standing out against his dark hair. The designer sunglasses that sit across the bridge of his nose should be obnoxious, but he wears them louche and rakishly charming. He’s younger than your father, but not by much; probably nearing twice your age. You don’t recognise him — you know everyone who works for your father practically inside and out, and you’d never forget a face like his.

Suddenly, he’s in front of you, and you’re blinking dumbly at the material of his expensive suit. “Are you lost?” he asks, his voice low and alluring, wrapping around you like a caress. The sunglasses block your view of his eyes, leaving you unfairly unable to tell whether he’s reacting to you the way you are to him.

You swallow thickly, fighting to find your voice. “No,” you say confidently. “Well… kinda, I guess?” you add with a laugh. “I’m looking for my dad.” You offer his name, and he nods in recognition.

“Ah— My fault, that. Sorry, love,” he says, voice softening on the final syllable in a way that has you biting the inside of your cheek to get your racing heartbeat under control. “Kept him late in a meeting.” You nod absently, distracted as his tongue flickers out to wet his lips and leaves them pink and glossy. Hopefully you aren’t wearing your thoughts too obviously on your face. “Matty,” he offers, holding out a hand.

You take it politely, surprised at the calluses scraping against your palm. He doesn’t look the type for hard work, the very shape of him insouciant, privilege scented on him under the smell of cigarettes and expensive cologne. The weight of his hand in yours as Matty holds your gaze for just a split-second too long feels charged, tension welling between you. After a beat, you give your name and Matty quirks an enigmatic half-smile that you just can’t get a read on. You wonder what kind of picture you’re painting for him; ribbons in your hair, skirt short enough to tease without any promise, socks biting into the flesh of your thighs. Your soft pastels boast innocence, a clean sweetness begging to be ruined where the sharp lines of him are rough around the edges, something dark tightly controlled under his easy smile. The pair of you are incongruous, yet symmetrical somehow, an artist’s rendition of impropriety.

The coolness in your palm when he lets go feels like a physical loss, your entranced gaze lingering on his face for another brief moment. Then he gives a cursory nod and strolls off, the spell breaking and leaving you stock-still as if you’ve been doused with a bucket of cold water. His name rolls around your head as you pick your way to your father’s office; Matty, Matty, Matty, like a litany, the concurrent chime of warning bells going unheard, or maybe just ignored.

Your father smiles up at you when you enter his office, getting up as if to hug you and stopping awkwardly short. He doesn’t know how to act around you, a consequence of the years of long hours and late nights that afford you your lifestyle but cost you a family. You make clumsy small-talk on the drive; he asks you how uni is going, you ask about work, he forgets the names of your friends, you remember the names of his. The same circles you always talk in. It’s never unpleasant, but always stiff, artificial.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you,” he says once you’re seated in a quiet corner of your favourite restaurant. He remembered that about you, at least. “I was in a meeting that ran long.”

You try not to visibly perk up at the reminder of possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met. “Oh, yeah,” you say, feigned casualness layered over your tone. “I met the guy you were with on his way out. Who was he? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.” Your father pauses briefly, and you wonder if you’ve laid it on too thick, showed too much interest. But you know your father couldn’t reconcile the idea of you being interested in one of his coworkers with the image he holds of you as his little girl.

He sits up straighter, adjusting his tie in the way he does because he thinks it’ll lend more gravity to his next words. “It was actually a very important meeting, or I wouldn’t have let it run as long as it did. It was with the VP of the company, Matthew Healy.” He nods self-importantly. “Very nice chap, honestly. I convinced him to allocate us more budget next quarter, which means that…”

You tune out the rest of his corporate jargon, letting the new information you’ve gleaned rattle around your brain. Vice fucking President. The scandal you’d cause selfishly thrills you more, because who could gainsay it, really? Sure, your father would have some choice words, but he’d keep them to himself in public for the sake of his job. You almost giggle picturing the vein that would throb in his forehead, and then remember yourself and focus back into the conversation right as your father finishes talking.

The waiter who has been hovering a tasteful distance away seizes the gap in conversation to take your order. You order without looking at the price, leaning casually back in the booth as you rattle off the name of the dish in perfect Italian. A few minutes later, the smooth, dark flavour of an espresso martini on your tongue, your father finally gets to the point.

He says your name seriously, levelling you with a look that’s laden with meaning over his drink. “I wanted to meet with you today to talk about something.” You nod uncertainly, unable to track where this is going. “Your last year at university is starting in September, and I’d like to know you have somewhere to go when you’re finished. Other people studying your course have been making industry connections and networking for years, and I’m concerned that you’ll be behind when you’re trying to get into work.”

You let him talk, even as you mentally roll your eyes. He’s showing care in one of the only ways he knows how, and you can’t really begrudge him that. Never mind that the idea of trudging to the office every day in a dull grey pantsuit and attending mergers and meetings for the rest of your life gives you the shivers. You open your mouth to bring this up, but pause when he continues. “I know you aren’t sure about using your degree, but there’s a dinner this weekend that I’d like you to come to. Just to see how everything works, show your face, start making yourself a name, hm?”

The refusal sits on the tip of your tongue, balancing there on instinct, but then you consider that this might be your only chance to see Matty again. Of course, he might not even be there, but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. Your thoughts haven’t strayed from him for more than five minutes since you met, he’s a nagging itch under your skin that you just can’t scratch, and you need him. “Okay,” you say, cutting your father off. He goes silent mid-spiel, having anticipated you taking more convincing than that. “Is it black-tie?”

Your father watches you curiously as you sip demurely at your cocktail. “Yes. I’m very happy you agreed,” he adds, the implicit question hanging heavy in the air between you.

With an airy shrug, you set down your glass. “Like you said, I’m not committing to anything. I just get to have a free fancy dinner, basically.” It’s a casual excuse, characteristic enough of you that your father couldn’t even begin to guess at your real motivation. The same waiter suddenly materialises with your food, and you dig in happily.

Over the course of your meal, your father explains the most important figures who’ll be attending, and Matty is among them, thank God. You try, subtly, to pry into his personal life, but come up fairly short; you can’t find a tasteful way to ask if he’s married, although it’s not unlikely, with a face like his. Once your father’s free hour has dried up, he drops you home and you slink off to your room and fall into your bed.

Guiltily, you pull up a private browsing tab on your phone and search matthew healy wife. A grin spreads as you find no results, wider when girlfriend turns up nothing but a string of articles about his latest breakup. Switching to image searching, you scroll through dozens of photographs of him, posed and smiling, this time missing the sunglasses and letting you admire his sweet brown eyes. Then you come across a photo of him giving the camera the eyes, your thighs clenching as he smoulders in a way that feels directed to you, a twin of the look he gave you earlier.

You let your eyes fall closed, your phone thudding against the pillow as your hand creeps under your waistband. The first brush at your clit buzzes bright up your spine, a pleased whine falling from your lips. Instinctively, you dig under your pillow for your vibrator, your other hand tugging your skirt and panties down your legs. You lay in just your blouse and socks, the barest hint of wetness beginning to pool between your thighs.

The sudden pulse of heat as you press the vibrator to your clit is almost too much, your body tensing at the sensation. Your hazy mind conjures up an image of Matty, his spectre watching you touch yourself for him. He’s on you in seconds, the ghost of his kiss almost tangible against your lips, the idea of his calloused fingers running over your skin so real they almost feel like a memory. Rocking your hips, you chase the pleasure that rolls over you, coiling low in your belly. You can almost hear Matty murmuring encouragement in your ear, telling you how pretty and good you are for him.

Body writhing against the sheets, a whimper of his name spills from your bitten lips, pleading as you rub tight circles into your clit. Molten pleasure drips down your spine, sticking in your lungs and melting against your ribs. The phantasm of Matty’s touch trails over you, his hands replacing yours as you thumb over your nipples, moaning at the soft spark of pleasure that flickers under your skin.

It’s not enough.

Your hands are too delicate, too far from the memory of thick veins and scraping callouses that your body craves. Still, you work diligently at yourself, falling into a familiar rhythm. Your motions are perfunctory now, an aside to the fantasy building behind your closed lids. You picture Matty’s sleazy smirk, heat in his gaze as he rubs at you, working you closer and closer, filthy words pouring from his lips. Pleasure burns under your skin, close and electric under the sheets.

The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, ecstasy rippling through your limbs as you bite down hard to keep a scream at bay. Rolling your hips, you ride out your orgasm, chest heaving as you gasp for breath and twist your fingers in your sheets.

Your face begins to flame as the afterglow wanes, the image of Matty fading and leaving a column of mortification in its place. God, how are you supposed to look him in the eyes after this? Flinging your covers off with a groan, you corral your thoughts into shape and march into the shower. Hot water pounds between your shoulder blades and you scrub at your skin until it’s pink and tender; you still don’t feel clean. It feels, suddenly, like you’re wearing a scarlet letter, like the evidence of your depravity is scrawled over your body in bold, dripping ink.

Still, you can’t stand under the shower spray forever, and the endless slog of summer reading you have to do won’t wait for your sudden crisis to be over. Taking a seat at your desk, you crack open a textbook and force yourself to stare at it until the words stop swimming in front of your eyes and you can process their meaning. You type up notes with practised ease, almost automatic and scarcely retaining the information. A chill grips you as you remember that this might be the rest of your life.

A self-indulgent fantasy drifts across your mind, and you snatch at it greedily, rewarding yourself for your work with an unjustified distraction. Is it so much to ask that you want a life of ease? To be spoiled and showered in affection, to have no expectations on you? Maybe that makes you a lazy brat, a typical, self-absorbed princess, but you’ve worked damn hard the last three years. At graduation, you’d have your pick of droning, selfsame corporations if that was what you wanted; you’d have no difficulty following your father’s footsteps, letting your own daughter trace yours.

Truthfully, your private desire is much harder. Men that run in your circles want a woman like you, superficially — from the same stock, with your own family money, barely old enough to know who you are. Under the surface, though, you know women like that. They’re your aunts, the mothers of friends and old boyfriends. Unfulfilled, wearing dead-eyed Stepfordian smiles, finding their only pinched joy in passing snide insults dressed up as compliments, laughing behind their hands when their victim du jour takes the bait. No, being one of those wives would be the only fate worse than spending your decades as a spinning cog.

Without your notice, the sun has sunk beyond the horizon, a moonbeam slanting through your curtains when you switch your desk lamp off. You slip between your sheets, clad in a thin nightdress and low-waisted underwear, the thoughts that circle your brain winding slower and slower until they slip away like a whirlpool draining from the sink.

The next morning, you really are planning on taking school seriously, in line at a coffee shop with scholarly intent before 9:30. Impossibly, though, a familiar head of curls is waiting in the queue only feet ahead of you. Your heartbeat speeds as you debate whether to speak to him, hands clammy with nerves at the sight of him. You step up to the counter to order, and Matty’s head whips around at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Hello, love,” he grins, and you smile back, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel. “Hey, no, I got it,” he says as you pull out your phone to pay. Matty taps his card before you can even react, then leans forward to address the barista. “Can I get mine for here instead? Is that okay? Thanks,” he flashes a winning smile and your heart flutters.

“Thank you,” you say shyly, toying anxiously with the buttons of your cardigan.

He waves a hand, his smile almost dizzying as he looks down at you. There’s a faint dusting of stubble over his jaw, and you have to force yourself not to get distracted by thoughts of it scraping over your skin. “Don’t worry about it. Always happy to do a pretty girl a favour.” Your knees almost buckle, heat flooding your cheeks as you swallow thickly. Thankfully, the barista calls your orders and Matty goes to collect them, giving you a second to catch your breath. “Is it okay if I come sit with you? Just realised I never asked.” He grins sheepishly, and you practically melt into a puddle. “Don’t wanna distract you if you’ve got work to do, or something.”

“God, no, of course,” you say, suddenly a little panicked at the idea of him leaving. “Feel free. I mean, if you have time,” you add, a last-ditch attempt to feign casualness as you slide into a booth.

Matty sits opposite, observing you with an inscrutable look on his face before he speaks. “I’ve got time. I’m the boss, darling, they can wait.”

Your thighs clench, the casual reminder of his status sending a shudder up your spine as you smile blithely. Neither of you speaks for a moment, both taking in the sight of each other, testing the boundaries of this thing blooming between you. “Do you make a habit of taking time out of your busy day to have coffee with girls?” you say, tone teasing to conceal that you’re truly curious about the answer.

He grins. “Like I said, I do whatever I like,” he says with a shrug. “If I wanted to, I don’t know, spend my morning having coffee with a pretty girl, well. Nobody would be surprised, let’s say.” It’s a non-answer, and you swallow down the jealousy that starts to rise in your throat.

“You keep calling me pretty…” you remark idly, pausing to sip delicately at your coffee before you speak. “I’m starting to think you might have an ulterior motive, Mr. Healy.” You tack on the title with a smirk, leaning forward in challenge.

Matty swallows, slightly unnerved for the first time. “I think you’re pretty,” he says simply. “Don’t have to have any motives. Unless you want me to,” he adds with a smirk.

“And if I do? What’s that say about you, sir? Chasing after a twenty-year-old girl? Quite inappropriate, wouldn’t you say?”

He chuckles softly, eyes darkening. A shock of heat sparks under your skin as he takes your hand, gaze searching. “Very,” Matty agrees lowly. “Good, sweet young girl like you shouldn’t be getting mixed up with me, angel.” Something in you flutters at the nickname, the way it rolls thoughtlessly off his tongue.

“I don’t have to be good,” you say, deliberately widening your eyes and biting your lip in a show of innocence. “I can be naughty. If you want.” You lean back and deliberately pop a button on your blouse, a hint of pink lace peeking out from the gap in your shirt.

Matty tips his head back, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply, eyes closed and trying to compose himself. “What am I going to do with you?” he mutters, more to himself, unable to drag his gaze up from the sliver of exposed skin.

“You’ll just have to keep playing and find out,” you smirk, purposefully leaning forward as you stand to give him a deliberate eyeful. “Have a nice day, Mr. Healy. Thank you for the coffee.” His gaze burns hot into your back as you walk away, and you make a conscious effort not to look back. You’re slightly annoyed as you wander down the street — that cafe is your favourite study spot, and you’ve effectively handed it away. You’ll never be able to set foot in there without remembering Matty’s smirk, his heavy gaze, the feeling of his hand over yours.

So, despite your best intentions, you find yourself spending the morning dipping in and out of stores instead, smiling blithely as your bank account dwindles. In the end, your evening winds up the same as yesterday, mindlessly copying up text without absorbing any of the information. You’re gonna kick yourself so hard when you have to use these notes to take an exam. Giving up, you shower and get into bed, shutting your phone off to sleep at around midnight.

When you stir, you know acutely that you’re dreaming. The bed is your own, the man sharing it is not. “Morning,” Matty says, in a low, sleep-thick voice that seems so real you can scarcely believe your mind conjured it up. He kisses your nose, your cheek, the hollow of your throat, but never your lips, as if your subconscious is saving the memory for the real thing.

“Hi,” you giggle, savouring the heat of his body against yours, willing yourself still for fear of the barest shift ruining your dreamscape. Matty’s hands run over you, one taking a firm hold of your ass, the other pinching gently at your nipple.

You whimper, and he gives a mocking pout. “Needy, hm?” You nod, eyes wide and pleading, and he cups your pussy, your hips rolling as you chase your pleasure against his hand. Arousal drips out of you, soaking your panties as Matty grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. Your head swims in pleasure, distracted and flailing as the dream blurs around you. Whining, you try desperately to grasp onto the vestiges, convinced that one last touch would have brought you there.

Eyes twitching open, morning light slants through the crack in your curtains, a gentle kiss over your sweat-slick skin. Embarrassingly, like you’re a hormonal adolescent again, there’s a throw pillow wedged between your legs, desire soaking into it through your ruined panties. An experimental thrust of your hips sends a scattered, delicious burst of pleasure up your spine, but you refuse to indulge yourself, already humiliated without feeling that sudden, crushing guilt again.

Once again, you force yourself under a punishingly hot shower, and once again, you can’t scrub yourself free of the sin. It becomes something of a routine; three more nights you dream of him, and three more mornings you try your hardest to melt the flesh off your bones in an effort to forget. The fourth night, the day before you’ll see him again, your sleep is mercifully dreamless, though you still wake with him on your mind. You stand in front of your wardrobe, hands balanced on your hips as your gaze darts between two dresses.

You need to be stunning, fuckable in a way that caters to Matty’s tastes perfectly. The amount of time you’ve spent scrolling through pictures of him with old girlfriends would surely be impressive if it wasn’t embarrassing, but it’s helped you narrow your choices down to two options. There’s a wine-red number, the thigh slit so high it practically bares your ass and the neckline plunging almost to indecency — it’s reminiscent of how his last girlfriend dressed, simple, dark elegance, deep hues paired with bold, striking makeup. Then, there’s a floor-length, pastel-pink silk gown, evidence of the virtue you’ll pretend to possess until you can show him just how dirty you can be.

The second dress speaks to you, more similar both to your own style and that of the youngest girl he’s ever dated. She was still older than you, though, you think wryly, four years ago twenty-three to his thirty. That being said, you wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d fucked every college girl from here to Edinburgh whose father had so much looked at her askance once. The thought sends a ripple of jealousy through you and you shudder, picturing dozens of faceless girls under him until you want to tear your hair out. The man practically has you in a chokehold, and you’ve met him once.

Your rational brain knows it’s crazy, that the idealised version of him built up in your mind means he’ll only disappoint, but you’re almost sure you’ll get a good fuck out of it at the very least. More, if you play your cards well enough.

With ribbons in your hair, silk gloves over your hands and a string of pearls at your throat, you pose in the mirror, practising your teasing pout, your innocent smile, the eyes that say please, sir, let me make you feel good. Your mother shouts your name, and you follow the sound down the stairs and across the foyer, smiling blithely at your parents as they take in the sight of you.

Okay, maybe you’ve laid on the innocence too thick, your makeup subtly widening your eyes and faintly flushing your cheeks. But there’s nothing technically wrong with your outfit, so your mother simply heaves a sigh and leads you out to the car. You arrive perfectly, politely on time, pose quickly for the few cameras and take your seats. Wait staff linger discreetly around, filling champagne flutes thanklessly, as if they exist on a plane below the guests’ notice.

You have to bite back a grin when the placard beside the empty seat at your table reads Matthew Healy; by some magnanimous twist of fate, he’ll be directly across from you, giving you an excuse to gaze at him as long as you like. He’s late, but only fashionably so, smirking and doling out insincere apologies as he saunters to the table. You don’t stand until everyone else has, playing clueless as Matty greets everyone around the table politely.

When he reaches you, his eyes flicker over you in a way that has your knees threatening to buckle, and you finally let yourself take him in properly. He looks fucking gorgeous, dressed in another expensive suit, his curls gelled back with that same smell of cigarettes and cologne seeping from his pores. He leans forward, brushing his lips against the apple of your cheek, and you almost moan at the contact your body has been craving for days. “You look stunning, darling,” he murmurs, so quiet that you could almost be convinced you’d imagined it, if not for the dark look in his eyes when he pulls back.

A half smile pulls at your lips as he sits down, one of the ubiquitous, black-clad waiters coming forward to fill his glass. The conversation quickly turns to business you couldn’t care less about, giving the automated, reflex responses to questions you’ve heard hundreds of times. You pay attention only when Matty speaks, the low timbre of his voice addictive even when he’s not addressing you. Emboldened by his heavy gaze and the significant looks he fixes you with each time his eyes land on yours, you slip a stockinged foot out of your shoe and trace it across his calf. His eyes widen a fraction, and he raises his glass and an eyebrow in your direction, his gaze laden with promise.

There’s still time before any food gets brought out, and after a few minutes, Matty offers to take you on a spin, introduce you to some of the more important people in suits that are clustered around the room. Your father preens, convinced you’ve made such an impression in the bare moments you’ve held your own in conversation that he wants to mentor you, or something. You accept gratefully, his proprietary hold on your arm falling low to your waist as soon as you’re out of your father’s sight, the heat of his palm splayed over your hip hard to believe. “Let me get you a drink,” he says, steering you to the bar. The crowd parts around him, conversations going quiet like he’s some kind of divine figure, taking a nod and a brief greeting like a blessing from on high. “You’ll need one to deal with this lot,” he adds, jerking a thumb at the gathered crowd, still murmuring awed in his wake.

Smiling, you take a seat at the bar, letting Matty flag down the bartender before you speak. “What’ll you have, darling?”

“Surprise me,” you grin, batting your eyelashes teasingly at him. “So, you hate this stuff, huh?”

Matty huffs a surprised laugh as the bartender pours him a glass of top-shelf red and hands you an Aperol spritz. “Is it that obvious?”

You take a long, slow sip of your drink, watching the way his eyes fall to your lips, pursed around the straw. “I don’t think so. Not to anyone here, anyway. They’re all too worried about what everyone else thinks of them to worry about what anyone else is thinking.”

Something shifts in his expression as he takes in your words, suddenly appraising you critically as a person with thoughts, rather than just a pretty face he wants to take to bed. And he does. Want to take you to bed, that is. His eyes are wide, dilated, his tongue unconsciously wetting his lips more often, his gaze trained on your face so it doesn’t fall further. “Beautiful and smart,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair, all at once dropping the intensity and sinking easily back into irreverence.

“I try,” you say with an artfully careless shrug, letting one of the thin straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, enjoying the way Matty’s eyes trace the movement. There’s a dance in this, a skill; overt flirting between the pair of you, a casual, if laden, conversation to an observer.

“I want to do bad things to you in that dress,” Matty says, low and sudden, a bolt of arousal striking you at your core.

You match his tone. “Like what?”

“The kind of things a man like me shouldn’t be thinking about doing to a girl like you.”

“So, why don’t you?” you challenge, a flicker of carefully masked surprise crossing his face as you drop your facade of naïveté. “There’s always somewhere private at a party like this,” you say, implication heavy in your tone, spreading your legs slightly and licking your lips.

A muscle jumps in Matty’s jaw, jealousy and lust warring in his expression as he pictures you crowded up against a bathroom sink, mouth parted and eyes glassy. “S’that what you’re used to? A quick fuck in a bathroom with some pathetic boy?” He leans close, delivering his next words slow and quiet. “I’m not going to do that, princess,” he says with a disparaging scoff, the sobriquet sending heat pooling between your legs. “Have you ever fucked a man, angel?”

Swallowing your moan, your thighs clench as you whisper, “No.”

“Good. Means I get to show you how it should really feel. Because when I fuck you for the first time, I’m going to make you fall apart for me. Piece by pretty, perfect piece. Shall we?” he adds, standing and offering you a hand without giving you any time to process his words.

You swallow thickly, accepting his hand and standing on unsteady legs. True to his word, he introduces you to what feels like an endless string of people. Their faces all blur together, your body working on autopilot to churn out pleasantries as your mind turns over Matty’s words, spinning them over and over like a coin set on its edge.

“Stay right here,” you whisper to him as he starts to head back to your table, and you’re pleased to find when you return from the bathroom that he’s obeyed. As discreetly as possible, you press the scrap of lace you peeled off from under your dress into his hand. The sound of his choked-off inhale is infinitely gratifying, and you savour his gaze at your back as you stride away, a deliberate sway in your hips.

By the time you’re back at the table, a thick wedge of business cards is tucked neatly into your purse to be left there and forgotten about until you shake them onto the floor the next time you need the bag. All but the one sitting on the very top, with Matty’s personal number scrawled on the back. He doesn’t take his eyes off you all through dinner, his hand dipping into his pocket at every free moment, the knowledge that his fingers are running over your panties driving you wild. Your legs cross so you don’t start dripping on the seat as you throw pleading glances at Matty every chance you get.

You practically chase him to the bar as dinner winds down, draping yourself over him as much as you dare. “I need you,” you whine, pressing a hand to his inner thigh, feeling the heat of him through his suit trousers. “I can’t wait anymore,” you plead, as close to begging as you can get without prostrating yourself on the floor in front of him.

Matty laughs, condescending. “Needy girl,” he pouts, crooking a finger under your chin. “If you were anyone else, I’d take you home right now, fuck all of these people. But we can’t have that, can we?” he teases. “Because you’re a good girl, yeah? And what would people think, good girl like you all spread out for a dirty old man like me?”

A pathetic whine slips from your lips, lust overtaking you even as the gears start to turn in your mind. “Take me home,” you beg, pulse hammering in your throat at the very prospect. “I can make an excuse, say I’m meeting friends or something. I’m a big girl, they won’t care as long as they don’t know where I actually am. Please?” you pout, leaning so close that your breath kisses across his lips. “I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

And Matty is only a man, with a man’s self-control. He’s had a few more years to refine it, but he’ll never be immune. “Go on, then, sweetheart. Make your excuses and meet me out front, yeah?” He gives your ass a firm slap as you stand, the brief flash of pain melting into sticky desire that hums under your skin.

You spin a lie to your parents, some story that your friends are in a bar a few streets away, and surely they don’t mind if you slip away just a few minutes early? Honestly, they’re ecstatic you stayed as long as you did, waving you off with unsuspecting smiles. Then, before you know it, you’re in a taxi with Matty, your thigh pressed against his, one of his hands tracing a pattern into your skin. You crowd closer to him, struggling to breathe as lust swallows all the air between you.

He stays teasingly out of your reach, tutting softly when you chase his lips. “You promised to be good for me, princess,” he admonishes, trailing his hand further up your thigh. You obey, squirming as you fall back into your seat, his fingers cruelly close to where you need them. “Good girl. You want me to touch you?” Matty murmurs, leaning in to breathe the words against the shell of your ear, a shudder rolling up your spine at his closeness. You nod, bating your breath as his fingers find the wetness between your legs. “Nice and still for me, yeah, darling?”

Pleasure floods you when the pad of his finger finds your clit, the gentle scrape over your sensitive nerves somehow blinding, your hips rolling as you chase the sensation. “Matty, please,” you moan, pouting pathetically when he takes his hand away.

“You’re not being very good, love. Still, remember? You can sit and keep your hands to yourself until we get home, understand?” You nod, sinking back in your seat and sulking. “Don’t be a brat, princess,” Matty chides, closing his lips around his wet fingers, sucking your arousal off them with an exaggerated moan. “Just a few more minutes and I’ll give you what you need, yeah? Sweet, needy girl.”

You flush at the praise, at the way he can switch from gentle to commanding and back in a second. Your blood is thick with desire, heart working in overdrive to pump it through your body. Then, with no ceremony, the end of the most agonising minutes of your life is signalled by the crunching of gravel under tyres. Matty leads you into the house, his control on a tight leash until the door clicks shut behind you.

He all but slams you against it, crowding into your space, his breath hot on your lips. His smell of cigarettes and cologne envelops you, fills your lungs, dizzying and intoxicating. “Please?” you whine, and he finally, gloriously obliges. Your lips crash together, a messy slide of spit and teeth and tongue that leaves you bruised and begging.

Matty’s hands fall to your ass, squeezing hard at the soft flesh, pliant under his touch as his nails bite crescent-moons of desire into your skin. “Can you jump for me, baby?” he asks, breaking away from you just long enough to breathe the words against your lips. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, your dress hiked up so far that it bares your cunt as Matty grips you by the thighs.

Pleasure spreads slowly through you as you grind yourself against him, his lips falling to your neck as he carries you up the stairs, a squeal escaping you as he tosses you on the bed. He stands at the foot of the bed, breathing hard, greedily drinking in the sight of you. “Take that dress off. Now.” His tone leaves no room for argument, practically puppeteering you, expensive silk crumpled on the floor before you can even react. “Gorgeous,” Matty murmurs, one hand coming up to unbutton his shirt. “Can you touch yourself for me? Wanna see how to make you feel good.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, eyes fixed on the inches of skin being revealed, a covering dragged off a masterpiece. Dark ink peeks from the V of his shirt, dissonant from the toned, marble skin surrounding it. Impatient, you dip two fingers into yourself, the familiar stretch sending heat shooting up your spine. Gasping, you pinch at your clit, rolling it between two fingers, hips rocking as you moan wantonly up at him.

“Good girl. Does that feel good, princess?”

“Not as good as you,” you pout, fucking yourself desperately on your fingers. “Daddy,” you add, watching that final thread break, Matty’s eyes going dark as he collapses on the bed above you. He kicks off his trousers ungracefully, tugging your hand up to his lips.

His warm mouth closes around your fingers, sucking the taste of your desire off them with a moan. “Such a dirty little girl, dressed up all innocent like that when you just wanna be ruined by your fuckin’ Daddy.” His clothed cock grinds against your aching, soaked core, the contact achingly close to what you need, and yet agonisingly far. “You taste so good, angel. Want me to eat that sweet little pussy of yours?”

Your mind swims at the thought, his skilled, clever tongue buried between your legs, your hands tight in his curls as he devours you. But that isn’t what you need. You shake your head. “Want you to fuck me,” you say, the simmering well of desire endless in the pit of your stomach. “I need it. Please?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Matty croons, shoving his boxers down his legs. You watch his cock spring free, thudding hot and sticky against his belly. “You want my fingers first, or can you take me all by yourself?”

The subtle condescension sets you on fire, liquefying your brain and sending it flooding down your spine, dripping out of you onto the mattress. You reach down, wrap your hand around him and pump slowly, swallowing his quiet hiss against your mouth. “I can take it, Daddy,” you promise, wide, innocent eyes turned on him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Matty fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me like this,” he praises. Discomposed, his accent thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Matty rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs. “That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Matty pulls almost all the way out of you, your body crying out at the loss, then slams his hips against yours so hard you see stars. “M-Matty, fuck,” you whimper, back arching desperately as he fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast, the obscene sound of skin meeting ringing out around you.

“Ah-ah. That’s not my name tonight, princess.”

His hips still, the waves of pleasure subsiding in punishment. “‘M sorry, Daddy,” you whine, bringing your hand down to rub at your clit, bright heat bursting between your legs.

“That’s it, angel,” Matty murmurs, pinching softly at your nipple with one calloused hand. “So beautiful all fucked out for me. I’m the only one who can get you like this, huh?”

Subtle jealousy hums in his tone, his kiss turning possessive as you writhe under him. “Yeah,” you whimper breathily. “Never had it this good before.” It’s not a lie. Your body feels at once wound into a coil and loose on your bones, the point where your hips meet your only anchor to your physical form.

Matty scoffs. “That’s because you’ve only fucked boys, princess. Never had a man before, have you?”

“N-no, Daddy,” you whine, rubbing frantically at your clit, Matty’s rhythmic groans warm against your lips.

His lips fall to your neck, kissing and biting against your tender skin, the scrape of teeth a flash of pain undercutting your desire but gentle enough not to bruise. “That’s right, baby. ‘M your fuckin’ Daddy. Wanna be my girl, huh? Could have you like this whenever you want, never let you worry about anything, ‘cept staying all pretty and cockdrunk for me.”

Oh, God. How does he know? Involuntarily, your legs wrap around his waist, the new angle rapturous as his thrusts continue, long and so deep you practically choke on them. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Could just be your little toy, never think unless you told me to. Want that so bad, Daddy.”

Matty’s eyes light up, wide and liquid with desire, your heartbeat hammering in your cunt as it throbs around him. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl. You wanna be my dumb little slut, huh? Want Daddy to fuck you stupid, turn you into my pretty fucktoy?” The words turn you to liquid, dripping and sticky under his skilled hands. “Yeah, you do,” he grins, arrogant and cocksure, your mind melting into fantasies of being Matty’s kept girl, of bending over with a smile whenever he liked, of spending your days keeping yourself pretty for him, and your nights split open like this. “I can feel how bad you want that, your pretty cunt keeps squeezing me so fuckin’ tight, angel.”

“‘M close,” you whimper, the words choked from your closing throat, desire clamping down on your body like a vice.

“Good girl,” Matty whispers, one of his hands joining yours at your clit, the pressure suddenly dramatically intense, every nerve in your body firing as one. “Cum for me, angel,” he orders, and your body obeys.

You come unglued from yourself, feel it in your whole body, euphoria crushing the air from your lungs. Your cunt pulses, thumping a sick rhythm in tune with Matty’s thrusts into you. Barely conscious, you feel amorphous, a messy string of liquid desire more than a corporeal girl. WIth a final, low groan, Matty spills inside of you, painting your insides white.

A whine escapes you as he pulls out, the loss tangible in your heavy limbs. “Oh, I know, baby, I know,” he soothes, falling beside you and cupping your jaw to kiss you tenderly.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur shakily, and a soft smile brushes at his lips.

“So polite,” he says reverently. “Such a good girl.”

You pout at him and drag two fingers through your slick, messy cunt, sucking the taste of both of you off your fingers. Matty gasps, eyes wide, and you smile around your wet fingers. “You want more, darling?”

You nod frantically, the fire under your skin still raging, ferocious and uncontrollable. Weakly, you lift your head, transfixed to where his cum trickles out of you, pooling white on the mattress. “We taste so good together,” you tell him, without taking your eyes off your ruined core. “Looks so good, your cum dripping out of me. Want you to finger it out of me. Please?” you add, pouting until he kisses you gently, breaking away to smile against your lips.

“Whatever you want, you’ll get, princess.” His fingers find your hole, teasing at you for a moment before toying with your sensitive clit, a stab of pleasure-pain winding sharply through you. “S’that sore, darling?”

“A bit,” you say, your body lax as he plays with you gently. All the urgency is gone now you’ve both come, the air honey-thick, your breathing slow and deliberate. “Feels good, though.”

Matty’s fingers are broad and thick as he pushes two of them inside you, your soaked cunt accepting him easily. He crooks his fingers, brushing that sweet spot that sets your nerves alight, and begins a slow rhythm. Lewd, wet sounds echo off the walls as you both watch his fingers disappear where you take him, cum leaking out around them.

An orgasm builds slowly at the base of your spine, your body jolting as Matty’s thumb comes up to circle over your clit. He swallows your sudden moan, languid kisses that have your eyes fluttering closed and let you fall into a daydream as he brings you closer.

“Mmm, can I cum again? Please?” you moan, hips rolling down to meet him. Pleasure swims hazy through your head, your blood syrup-thick and heavy with it.

“Can you hold it for a minute, baby? For me? Just wanna watch that pretty cunt of yours taking my fingers a little longer.” You whimper as he curls his long fingers inside of you, trembling with the effort of holding your orgasm at bay. “You make such pretty sounds, princess. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you cum, okay?”

“‘M yours, Daddy. Your good little girl,” you promise, words coming out slurred, your tongue too thick in your mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” Matty says, encouraging, grasping possessively at your hip. “All mine, yeah? Go on, princess. Cum,” he instructs, curling his fingers against your g-spot and rubbing a harsh circle into your clit in the same, breathless moment.

All the air crushes out of your lungs, white-hot pleasure melting your brain into liquid. Matty croons reassurances as you writhe under him, the thickness of his fingers visceral where you clench around him. You moan his name over and over in a litany, tasting something divine where the word spills from your lips.

You float back down to Earth, blissed-out and smiling, adoration in Matty’s gaze as he watches you. “There you are, sweet girl,” he grins, warm hand stroking gently up and down your side. “How do you feel?”

“God, incredible,” you answer, stretching back and luxuriating against his pillows. “Best fuck I’ve ever had,” you grin, watching his jaw clench at the reminder that you’ve fucked other people.

“Ruined you for other men, have I?” he says, smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“Other boys,” you correct airily. “Men like you know what they’re doing. Maybe you’ve given me a taste for it. Maybe I’ll fuck my way through the office, get all those men you see every day eating out of my hand.”

Matty practically snarls, silencing you with a harsh kiss. “Those fucking pricks couldn’t make you cum if their lives depended on it. Believe me, darling, I’m the best you’ll ever have,” he promises, and you give a quiet giggle. Your eyes are heavy even as electricity still buzzes under your skin, and you yawn, catlike, and settle against his bare chest. “Tired, angel?” he says, a hint of humour in his tone.

“Right shattered me, haven’t you?” you complain, swatting playfully at him. “Can I stay?”

“‘Course, darling. Long as you like,” Matty says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Want me to make you something to eat? Can’t have my girl going hungry after I’ve worn her out like that.” The casualness with which he flings the words my girl sends your heart racing, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw then trailing up to play with your hair. It’s all so sickeningly domestic, more intimate than when he had you split open and dizzy under him.

“Sounds nice,” you say sleepily, but whine when he moves to get up.

You pout when Matty tugs on his discarded boxers, and he chuckles softly. “What?” he adds as your frown deepens, watching him pull on a pair of grey joggers.

“Was looking at you,” you say sulkily. “You have a cute ass.”

His head tips back as he laughs, baring the sloping column of his neck gorgeously, his curls bouncing with the movement. “Are you objectifying me?” he grins, mock-affronted.

“Yes,” you say immediately, sitting up and tracing your gaze deliberately over his chest, muscles rippling as he breathes. Your attention falls to the tattoo at his hip, half-hidden by his joggers, and the sudden need to taste the skin there overtakes you. “What else is a big, strong man like you good for? Fucking me right and cooking me dinner, and looking gorgeous doing it,” you tease, sucking in a sharp breath when he crosses the room in two strides and catches your jaw in a harsh grip.

“Don’t be a brat, princess. ‘Cause then I’ll have to show you what I’m fucking good for.”

“Okay,” you breathe against his lips, trailing your hand down his chest and thumbing over the tattoo, savouring the way Matty shudders under your touch.

The air under your hand goes cold as he steps away. “Needy girl,” he grins. “Food first, yeah? You want me to bring it up here? Serve my princess dinner in bed?” There’s that my again, one tiny, thoughtless syllable sending a thousand fantasies flickering behind your eyes. “Or do you wanna come down with me?”

You slip out from under the covers and set your feet on the floor, only for your knees to buckle when you try to stand. “Fucked me so good my legs don’t work,” you say with a weak laugh, smiling softly when Matty comes to fuss over you. “Can you carry me downstairs?”

“Here,” Matty says, handing you a shirt and boxers that are probably too small for him; they dwarf you, the shirt swallowing you while the boxers hang indecently low on your hips. At the sight of you in his clothes, he stops still, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply for a long moment. “Look fucking gorgeous wearing my clothes, darling. C’mere, I can carry you if you want,” he offers, scooping you into his arms.

Nestled happy against his warm, bare chest, you notice for the first time how fucking big his house is. It’s almost brutalist, but still homey, evidently lived-in. Framed photographs and prints litter the walls, slightly wilted flowers sitting in a vase atop a gorgeous upright piano.

“D’you play?” Matty asks, catching you admiring it.

“Since I was a kid. Do you?”

He huffs out a laugh above you. “You think I’d have a fifty grand piano sitting around that I don’t play?”

You shrug as best you can, still wrapped in his arms. “My parents have a baby grand that nobody played until I came along. It’s like a status symbol, or something, I dunno.”

“Yes, I play. The guitar too,” he adds, slowly strolling in the direction of the kitchen.

The realisation dawns on you, and your mouth drops in an ‘O’ of understanding. “So that’s why your hands are like that. I don’t know why I didn’t put that together. You’re hardly the type for hard labour.”

Matty laughs, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “You don’t know,” he teases, pressing a featherlight kiss against your cheek. “I could’ve been a mechanic in a past life.”

The thought of him, sweaty and dripping in grease, bending you over the hood of a car, makes your head spin, and he smirks as your jaw goes slack. “I wish,” you grin as he retrieves a pan from an upper cabinet, flexing the muscles in his back gratuitously with the movement. ement.

“What are you feeling like? Eggs? Pasta?” he offers, setting the pan on the stove.

You mull it over for a moment. “Can you make me French toast?”

“‘Course I can, baby.” You watch his hands as he cracks two eggs in a bowl, whisking them together with cinnamon and sugar. He steps between your legs as the bread sizzles in the pan with a healthy spoonful of melted butter, kissing at your neck and jaw. In the light, the fading hickeys scattered over your skin are visible, and he prods jealously at them. “Who gave you these?” he says, gravel in his voice.

Shrugging airily, you smirk up at him. “Some boy,” you tease, Matty’s nostrils flaring as he fights to control his reaction.

“Did he make you cum?” he asks, nails biting possessively into your hips.

“We didn’t get that far. Just made out on the couch. He was a good kisser, though.” At that, Matty captures your lips, kissing you slow and deep, the lingering taste of red wine filling your mouth. The kiss is hard, almost aggressive, like he’s trying to forcibly erase the memory of any kiss you’ve ever had. He bites gently at your lower lip as he pulls away, not hard enough to sting, but enough for you to read the message in the action. “Careful. Don’t burn my toast.”

A mumbled fuck makes you giggle, and he turns to flip the bread in the pan. “Don’t worry, angel. Still perfect.” He watches you as he speaks, wide brown eyes liquid and luminous, framed by delicate lashes.

Still, if he gets to be jealous, so do you. “Do you make midnight snacks for all the girls?�� you ask, swinging your legs back and forth off the counter.

“Can’t say I do, darling.”

The implication of his words thuds hard in your chest, a warm flicker of hope striking to life like a match under your skin. “What’s so special about me?”

“Good girl like you deserves the princess treatment. ‘Specially from a dirty old man like me,” he grins, sliding your toast onto a plate. The sudden reminder of your age gap, of the scandal you’d cause if even a whisper of this got out, sends a shuddering thrill up your spine. Matty hands you the plate, topped with icing sugar and drizzled with syrup, and you tuck in eagerly.

He picks up a pack of cigarettes from the counter, eyebrows going up when you go to reach for one. “What? I’m not always a good girl.”

“Oh, I know, love,” Matty smirks, lit cigarette dangling indecently from his lips. “Can’t have you ruining your pretty lungs, though. Here,” he says, pulling deeply on the cigarette and then pressing his open mouth to yours. Grey smoke curls from your parted lips as you suck in the smoke greedily. He shotguns you half the cigarette, your head light as the nicotine buzz hits.

You drink in the sight of him as you eat, taking advantage of the light to appreciate the finer details of him. The gentle glow of the cigarette where it sits between his plush, pink lips, the joggers obscenely low on his hips, the V of muscle that points tantalisingly down, a light trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

“You wanna go back to bed, angel?” Matty smirks, the air between you shifting as he meets your gaze, eyes darkened.

You scoff. “Bed’s boring. You have this whole fucking house, and you wanna take me back to bed?”

Matty crowds close to you, stealing a kiss and dropping to his knees. “Alright, princess.” His fingers dig into your hips as he eases his boxers off you, dipping his head to kiss at your bare thighs. A filthy smirk spreads wide across his lips as he looks up at you. “You’ve eaten. Now it’s my turn,” he promises, and your giggle turns to a moan when his tongue meets your centre.

He devours you like he’s been starved, lapping at your still-soaked cunt in a toe-curling rhythm. A sudden flash of pleasure-pain strikes sharply where his teeth scrape at the tender flesh of your thigh, sucking and biting hard enough to bruise. A quiet moan tumbles from your lips, and you squeeze your thighs around his head to urge him back to your cunt. Obediently, he wraps his lips around your clit, the pressure at your sensitive bundle of nerves making your head spin. “C’mon, princess. You make such pretty sounds, I know you can be louder than that.”

Matty sets a dizzying pace, tongue-fucking you with fervour. Burying your hands in his hair, you shift so you can rest your legs over his shoulders, the new angle letting him drive his tongue even deeper inside you. Heat roils in your belly, winding around your organs, entangling sweetly with your veins. “Fuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his face wantonly. “Feels s’good, Daddy,” you moan out, gasping as Matty curls his tongue perfectly inside you, white-hot pleasure buzzing up your spine.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs and tilts his head up to look at you, his lips and chin practically dripping with your slick. He sucks another bruise into your sensitive skin, kissing over the mark apologetically. Your skin is on fire, tension pulling tight in all your limbs at once. “Taste so fucking good,” he moans, kissing softly at your cunt, his laugh ghosting over your skin as you flutter needily in response. “Could spend the rest of my fuckin’ life between these pretty thighs, darling.”

Your head is hazy, barely coherent thoughts drifting in and out, an incomprehensible plea falling from your lips. Matty won’t let you get complacent with a rhythm, switching between broad, flat strokes over your cunt, deep thrusts into you and sucking on your clit so fast it deliriates you. “‘M close,” you whine, tugging hard on his curls as ecstasy builds at the base of your spine. “Wanna cum for you,” you add, a hint of begging in your tone.

“Say please, darling.” The words vibrate gloriously in your cunt, a shock of pleasure rolling over you.

“Please, Daddy, I wanna cum. Need it so bad,” you plead, whimpering when he scrapes his teeth over your clit, fighting to hold your orgasm at bay until he gives you permission.

“Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy, yeah?” The words are all you need, a string of obscenities interspersed with breathless moans of his name tumbling from your lips as pure euphoria overtakes you. Hot pleasure cascades over you, racing down your spine and along every nerve in your body. You writhe against Matty’s mouth, half-convinced you’ve left your body behind, made of pure sensation.

Boneless, you slump backward, sure you could fall asleep on the cool granite of Matty’s kitchen counter. He catches you, steadying, and gathers you back into his arms. “Thank you, Daddy,” you smile up at him, curling into his chest.

The thump of his heartbeat is soothing as he picks you up again. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs fondly. “Now do you want me to take you back to bed?” he adds, grinning teasingly. He carries you back to his room, laying you softly against the pillows and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Just need you awake for a few more minutes, sweetheart. Need to get you cleaned up, then you can sleep, yeah?” He’s so tender, speaking softly and petting your hair for a moment before he fetches a damp cloth. Running it softly over you, he makes soothing sounds at your pained whimpers. “I know, baby, I know. ‘M sorry. Just a little more, okay?”

You’re half-asleep by the time Matty climbs into bed with you, sweeping your hair off the back of your neck and kissing softly at the skin there. An arm drapes over your waist, the pressure warm and soothing. “I wanna be your girl,” you mumble, more than half-asleep, barely conscious of the words as they slip unbidden from your lips. You’re unconscious before you hear his reply.

You’re sore in the morning, momentarily disoriented by the weight of a body in bed with you, before last night comes flooding back and you smile to yourself. “Morning, princess,” Matty murmurs, voice low and sleep-thick in your ear.

“Good morning,” you smile, stretching out your muscles and arching your back. Matty hisses as your ass meets his hips, his hardness pressing against you. “Oh, very good morning, hm?” Turning to face him, you reach down, slipping your hand under his waistband to palm his cock. He twitches under your touch, a sleepy moan falling from his lips as he rolls his hips into your hand. “Wanna suck your cock,” you murmur, his reaction visceral in your palm.

“Such a sweet girl,” he says, sliding his boxers off as you climb over him. You kiss his neck, the hollow of his throat, working your way down his chest. Indulgently, you bite a bruise into his chest, a twin to the ones that litter your thighs. You trace your tongue over the tattoo at his hip, his body shuddering at the sensation. His cock twitches against your lips as you press a kiss to the head, the taste of salt filling your mouth when you lick your lips.

You mouth at him teasingly for a moment, needy whines filling the air above you. Having power over him this time is intoxicating, and you hold his hips down as he tries to thrust into your mouth. “Not so fast,” you grin. “Keep still and hands to yourself, remember?” Matty swears softly as you repeat his words back to him, hands fisting in the sheets.

Teasing him for a few more moments, you kiss at his lower belly, smirking as he trembles under your lips, cock drooling. The moan Matty lets out when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock is obscene, low and keening, and you dip your head to take him in deeper. “That’s it,” he murmurs, threading a hand gently in your hair. “C’mon, sweet girl, just a little further. I know you can take it, angel.” The encouragement sends a shudder through you, liquid pleasure pooling between your thighs.

Obediently, you relax your throat, sinking further until your nose meets his skin. “Good girl,” Matty says. “Good fucking girl, takin’ me so well. So fuckin’ pretty all stretched out around my cock.” Saliva pools under your tongue, dripping helplessly from the corners of your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, thrusting gently into your mouth. “Such a pretty slut, fuckin’ drooling on my cock.”

You pull off him, a string of saliva connecting your skin for a split-second. “‘M your slut, Daddy. Can go harder, if you want,” you say, wrapping your hand around his cock, spit-soaked and dripping, and pump slowly. You lave at him for a moment, licking messy stripes over his cock before taking him all the way in one motion.

Matty groans, bucking his hips. “You want me to fuck your pretty mouth, huh, angel?” His hand tightens in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth, the stretch in the corners of your mouth gorgeous.

“You can do better than that,” you murmur. “Want it hard. I won’t break. Unless you want me to,” you add with a grin, moaning around his cock as you swallow him back down. Finally, gloriously, Matty fucks into your mouth, sets a deep, punishing pace. He pulls you by your hair, the sting in your scalp divine as he uses you; you let yourself slip out of your body, sinking into the warm, fuzzy feeling of being his toy.

“That’s right, baby. Fucking made to take my cock, yeah? Good little girl just wants to be Daddy’s cocksleeve.” The filthy words wash over you, thighs clenching as arousal thrums low in your belly. Wetness pools between your legs and you slip a hand down your body to rub at your clit. The soft spark of pleasure grants you the briefest relief, and you moan around his cock. He’s losing control, the movement of his hips turning sloppy as your throat burns raw. “Fuck,” Matty hisses. “Gonna cum, angel.”

“You wanna cum in my mouth?” He nods, transfixed by your flushed skin and spit-slick lips. “Say please, Daddy.”

He moans, long and low, as you take him back in your mouth, swallowing around him. “C’mon, princess, I wanna cum in that pretty mouth of yours. Fuck, I need it.” He fucks your throat wildly, heat firing through your body, sensation cascading over you. “Please?” The word sounds delicious falling from his lips, sliding sweetly across your brain as you moan around him. With a final groan, he spills in your mouth, a cry of your name tearing from his throat. His cock pulses in your throat, the salt of him filling your mouth as you swallow obediently. “That’s it, take it all. Such a good little cumdump for me, princess.”

You pull off him, sitting back on your heels with a grin. “Did I do good?” you ask, pouting down at him.

You’re only teasing, but when Matty meets your gaze, chest heaving and eyes lidded, and murmurs, “So good, princess.” A gush of heat floods between your sticking thighs. “Where’d my good girl learn to suck cock like that?”

Falling back onto his chest, you give him a wicked smirk. “I told you already, Daddy.” You shift your hips, grinding your soaked cunt against his cock and whining at the soft buzz of pleasure that lights under your skin. “I’m not always a good girl.”

He groans, rolling his hips against yours. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, baby.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to the tattoo in the centre of his chest. “The elderly and their weak hearts,” you scoff, hissing when he pinches the flesh of your ass.

“Oi. Be nice.” Rolling your eyes dramatically, you mime zipping your lips. His fingers wander between your legs, anticipation thrilling under your skin as he finds your clit, the rough pad of his finger scraping against your sensitive nerves. “So wet, princess. Does being my little cocksleeve turn you on, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur. “Feel a bit gross right now, though. I wanna shower first.” Matty grins, a vision of you naked and dripping wet from the shower playing out so clearly on his face that you can practically see it reflected in his eyes.

You hop up on the bathroom counter as Matty runs the shower, rinsing your mouth out with mouthwash and leaning over the sink to spit it out. Matty does the same, then steps between your legs, and you cross them instinctively behind his back. He catches your lips, mint taste mingling in your breaths as you kiss open-mouthed, hot and messy. Distracted, you lose yourself in the kiss, forgetting why you’re in the bathroom at all until the air is thick and cloying with steam.

Matty breaks away from you and helps you to your feet, tugging his shirt up over your head and discarding it to the floor. He can’t resist a greedy handful of your tit, gazing down to where the flesh spills over his fingers. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs, walking you backwards until you’re stepping into the shower.

You pull him under the spray, curls sticking to his forehead as the water soaks him. His hands trail over your body, grasping at your wet flesh as you press yourself needily against him. His cock is hard against your belly, heat pooling in your core as he pulls you in for a wet kiss. Matty grips your thighs, your head spinning as his tongue sweeps your mouth. “Jump up for me, sweet girl,” he says against your lips. “I’ll catch you, don’t worry.” Something in your chest catches as he smiles earnestly down at you, and you force it down before it bubbles out of control and something incriminating slips from your lips.

Obediently, you jump up, your legs tangling around Matty’s waist as he crowds you against the shower tile, his nails biting at your thighs where he holds you in place. You moan against his mouth as you grind your hips down against his stomach, a soft buzz of pleasure growing where your skin meets his. “Daddy, please. Want your cock,” you whine, steam curling around your bodies as you grasp weakly at his wet skin.

He laughs softly against your lips, angling your hips carefully as he lines up his cock. Torturously slow, he lowers you down, pleasure rolling hot under your skin from the point where his hips meet yours. Your cunt throbs, stretched wide around him as Matty moans against your neck. “God, this fucking cunt drives me crazy. Made for this,” he groans as he bottoms out, hips flush under the warm spray of the shower.

“C’mon,” you whimper, clenching your cunt around him and rolling your hips. “Fuck me. I need it,” you beg, scraping your nails down his back.

His cock twitches inside you, the barest flicker of sensation sending a pulse of heat thrumming under your skin. “Needy girl,” he says, clicking his tongue condescendingly.

“Please, Daddy,” you moan, writhing in his arms, the plea on your lips breaking into a whine as he pushes into you agonisingly slow. Your head thuds back against the tile as your eyes slip closed, hot pleasure coiling between your legs as you clench your cunt around him.

Matty groans as he bottoms out, your legs locked around his waist as you pant into his mouth. “God, takin’ me so well, princess. Look so beautiful while I’m fucking you like this, fuck,” he praises, his words sending heat rushing to your cheeks. His head falls to suck and bite at the flesh of your tits, pain blooming into bliss under your skin as he fucks into you slowly.

You moan desperately, scrambling for purchase against his wet skin. “More, harder, please,” you whimper, rocking your hips as arousal pools in your cunt and drips out over him. He laughs darkly, and you shudder slightly, wondering what you’ve let yourself in for.

“Harder, huh?” he murmurs into your neck. “Whatever you want, princess.” It’s the only warning you get before he lifts you and slams you down on his cock, your hips meeting hard as he strikes deep inside you. He fucks you wildly, the slick heat of his body pinning you to the wall as he mouths at your neck, his breath hot on your skin. Incoherent moans fall from your lips, your head hazy and distant, pleasure welling hot under your skin.

His lips come up to cover yours, swallowing your wanton moans greedily, the faint taste of mint on his tongue as he licks into your mouth. “God, such a good girl,” he murmurs. “Wish you could see yourself, baby. Such a pretty little cocksleeve for me.” Arousal drips between your legs, mingling with the water soaking you, your cunt throbbing at his words. “You like that, princess?” he asks with a soft laugh, subtle derision cascading down your spine. “Little slut. Wanna be Daddy’s pretty toy, yeah?”

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. His rhythm doesn’t slow, your grip on sanity slackening with every pulse of heat in your cunt. “‘M yours, Daddy,” you manage to get out around broken moans.

“That’s right, princess.” He’s practically dragging you up and down on him, using you like you really are a toy. “Gonna be a good girl and cum for Daddy, hm?” Your legs tighten around Matty’s waist as one of his hands leaves your hip to play with your clit. The rough scrape of his calloused finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves is too much, and it barely takes another minute before your world shatters.

Your scream echoes off the tile, cunt pulsing as your blood burns with ecstasy. Heat floods every nerve in your body, bone-deep pleasure swelling under your skin, incessant gasps and whines falling from your lips. Matty’s brutal pace never slows, chasing his own pleasure, silencing your whines with his mouth as you squirm against the overstimulation. “‘M almost there, baby. Just a little more, takin’ it so well, princess,” he assures you, rhythm sloppy and faltering as he gets closer. Your name spills from his lips in a groan as he pulses inside you, ropes of cum dripping sticky down your insides.

“Fuck,” you murmur, whining as he pulls out and gingerly setting a leg on the floor, testing whether they can hold your weight. Matty’s hands hover at your waist, ready to catch you if you slip, and you stretch up to press a grateful kiss to his lips.

Matty pulls you fully under the shower, reaching for a bottle of shower gel and soaping his hands. “Feeling good?” he says, cocky smirk playing on his lips.

“Mhmm,” you sigh happily, settling against his chest as he runs his hands slow and tender over your body. In your blissed-out state, you barely notice your next words as they slip from your lips. “Wish it could be like this all the time.”

Matty croons softly, brushing a thumb over your nipple and kneading at your tit. “Wanna be my sweet girl forever, hm? I’d love that, princess,” he murmurs, the fantasy rooting in your mind despite how obscenely ridiculous the idea is — you’ve barely known him a week, for Christ’s sake. Something about him makes you feel safe, though, secure. Like you’ve known him for years — although, maybe not, given the circumstances. A moan slips from your lips when Matty digs his thumbs into your back, working the tension free from under your skin as your eyes slip happily closed. He cleans your cunt gently, smirking at the cum stringing between his fingers and swirling down the drain. “Can I wash your hair?” he offers with a soft smile.

Your chest feels distended, bloated with an affection you know you shouldn’t be feeling as you nod, the scent of his shampoo maddeningly comforting, sickeningly familiar. Matty’s skilled fingers work over your scalp, a quiet kind of bliss rolling over you as you relax into his touch. Stepping out of the shower, your hair scrunched up in an old t-shirt of his that he swore he didn’t care about getting ruined, you can’t hold back a pout when he wraps a towel around his waist. “Hey, no, what do you think you’re doing?” you gasp, suddenly distracted as Matty starts to bring a towel up to his hair. Puzzled, he stares at you blankly as you snatch it from his grip. “Gonna ruin those pretty curls if you keep doing that,” you tut. “Here, sit down. Let me spoil you for a second, okay?” You’ve never felt so cared for by one of your hookups, even by some of your boyfriends, so you seize a chance to return the favour.

Obligingly, he sits on the closed toilet seat, letting you advance on him with a tub of obscenely expensive hair gel. He smiles softly, leaning involuntarily into your touch as you twist his curls around your fingers, defining them neatly and admiring the way they bounce back on themselves. You straddle his lap to scrunch the gel into his hair, batting his hand away when he tries to grab your tit. “Behave,” you chide, laughing and stepping away to take in your handiwork. With his hair loose and framing his face sweetly, he looks younger, more innocent, a far cry from the man calling you a pretty little cocksleeve not even half an hour ago.

“What are you thinkin’ about, darling?” Matty murmurs, searching gaze heavy on your bare skin.

You blink, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Just about how I could really go for that breakfast in bed right now,” you grin, teasing to alleviate the intensity in the air between you.

He huffs a laugh. “Think it might be closer to lunch by now,” he smirks. “How about I do you one better? Let me take you out for lunch, yeah?”

Your jaw hangs open in shock. Of all the ways you were expecting this to end, this wasn’t it. “Like… like a date?” A date means something, means being seen together in public, means being more than just a dirty little secret.

“Yeah, princess. Like a date.” He smiles fondly. “Here, I’ll call you a car. You go home, get changed, and I’ll pick you up in an hour, okay?” Instinctively, you nod, his tone leaving no room for argument even if you’d wanted to. You open your mouth to ask how he knows where you live, the answer coming to you with sudden, shocking clarity. Right. Because he’s your father’s boss.

Well, fuck. That certainly complicates things.

…But it’s not like complicated has ever stopped you before.

#the instalove is instaloving STRONG here loool #why is this longer than my Actual Novel that im writing so far #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #writing #smut #white and gold

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ginkgo-phyta · 4 months

Text

Tantalizing / Spencer Reid

PART TWO: Link

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Words: ~8k

Tags/Warnings: SMUT!!! like pure smut, AFAB fem reader, no usage of "y/n", light footplay, light nipple play, humping, unprotected penetration, slight dom/sub themes (nothing intense, maybe more like switch?), secret relationship, extensive foreplay teehee ;]

Summary: You haven't had good, quality, playful time with Spencer in quite a while- the team's schedule having been jam packed with cases. Its been making you antsy, expounded by how good your boyfriend has been dressing lately. You decide late one night that enough is enough, and you had to dig your claws into him. Even if people end up finding out about you two.

Author's Note: inspired by spencer's s7 outfits...they're so good. they make me wanna bark. this is my very first time writing smut! ahhh!! also i didn't know wtf to title this.

“Hi Spencer…” Your alluring voice purred into Spencer’s ears as he held the hotel door open for you, the seductive timbre curling up the back of his neck, brushing against his warming cheeks and flicking the ends of the hair that tickled the shell of his ear.

“C-come in, quickly”. He ushered you in, closing the door swiftly behind you. The stammer caused you to grin mischievously and you watched Spencer pause in the middle of the room- just staring at you hesitantly, taking in your appearance as he played with the hem of his sweater vest. You donned a half-sleeved retro style black dress with a white collar and small buttons going down the front- his favorite on you. The belt hugged your waist beautifully and the skirt that shaped out your hips flared out a bit at the end, falling right at the knee. With it you wore an assortment of dainty jewelry, very sheer black tights and short forest green heels. He had seen you just a handful of times throughout the day, and each time he had to find some excuse to leave your vicinity in order to hold onto even a sliver of concentration on the case.

“I’ve missed you all day, baby.” you start to step closer to him, twirling the ends of your perfectly curled ponytailed hair between your fingers. The soft thuds of your kitten heels sent tingles down Spencer’s spine. “Did ya miss me?” you questioned him with a little pout. Now mere inches away from him you traced your manicured fingers down the lapels of his blazer. Reflexively, his hands shot up to rest ever-so-lightly on the curve of your hips.

He gulped, watching you playfully bat your mascaraed eyelashes up at him, “Of course, I did.” Spencer cleared his throat, trying to gain some sort of composure, “I wished you could have come out into the field with me, but you need to get better first.” His right hand shyly moved up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering to fiddle with the small golden hoop on your lobe.

A dramatic sigh huffed out of your plump, glossy lips while fixing the knot of his tie, “I knoooow,” tone almost childish in reluctance, “I just love seeing you work.” You threw your arms over his shoulders, flashing him the beautiful smile he loved oh-so-much to see, “Which is why I’m here. Wanna see what you’re up to.” The bite of your lip, the glint in your eye, and the glimpse to his own lips made it clear to Spencer that you held a different motive. “Show me what you're working on?” you turn to make your way to the desk where dozens of papers and multiple files were scattered around. The purposefully enticing sway of your hips left Spencer captivated.

You had suffered a pretty bad concussion a couple weeks ago at the hands of an unsub weidling a copper pipe. The proceeding vertigo refused to relent its choking grip on your inner ear resulting in being “banned” from the field until a doctor’s clearance- or two, if Spencer could have his way. Usually this wouldn’t be all that big of a deal for you, but the case the BAU team was currently working on had Spencer away from you for most of the day, profiling the suspected murderer’s house in an attempt to find details that could lead to the missing victim. You were left twiddling your thumbs at the precinct. Well, not really, but it sure did feel like it at times.

“Ooo, the coded messages. Have my analyses helped you at all?” your voice pulled Spencer out of his debauched thoughts. His gaze landed on your face, all traces of seductive tactics were gone, replaced by eager and adorable curiosity. The unsub had several coded messages in journals scattered around his apartments that were proving to be incredibly difficult to crack. Spencer let out a breathy chuckle as he excitedly made his way over to sit at the desk.

“Yes, they actually did. I was able to-” and off he went down the rabbit hole of a tangent. Although normally you would have intently listened to what he had to say, this time watching him passionately ramble reignited the little flame in your bosom. You leaned against the desk, letting your eyes wander over Spencer’s expressive hands and fingers as he gestured to different pieces of paper. You interrupted his spiel by sliding into the space between his body and the desk, using the toe of your shoe on the seat to roll the creaky swivel chair back.

“The working day is over, Spencie, don’t you think it's time to focus on better things?” Spencer's head snapped down to where your foot rested on the cushion of the flimsy motel office chair, right between his legs and dangerously close to his clothed cock. He followed the line of your nylon clad leg, over the skirt of your work dress, across the prominence of your chest, up the slope of your neck, and finally to your twinkling eyes. “I don’t deserve any attention, baby?” you tilted your head ever so slightly, your hand coming up to delicately play with the single-pearl necklace resting in the Plender’s gap of your collar bones. A delicious, forlorn sigh passed your lips as your fingers glided over your shoulder, head moving with it to look down and pick at the papers laying under your tush, “You didn’t really miss me, did you? All you ever think about is the bad guys.” And there was that pout again. God, you really knew how to make Spencer a mess.

“That’s not true!” he exclaimed immediately, voice cracking slightly at the end. Your eyes snapped to his offended face. You giggled as his Adam’s apple bobbed- you loved teasing him, it boosted your confidence and only egged you further every time. His reactions would always be your drug of choice. “I’m-I’m sorry.” was all else he could spit out.

“What for, honey?” you leaned back on your hands, head tilting to the other side this time.

“For not giving you my attention. I didn’t mean to…neglect you. I really did miss you. I always do.” Spencer’s hands came up to lightly cup your calf, still very aware of its proximity to certain progressively-aching parts of his body.

“Good.” your voice was matter of fact as you straightened up a bit. Spencer watched you pull at your hair-tie and release your ponytail with a few firm shakes, his lips parted with a sharp draw of breath. The foot between his legs briefly moved as you kicked off your heels before it settled back into its original position, this time inching further under his crotch.

He let out a quiet surprised “Ah-” at the contact, his grip on your leg lowered as he squirmed in his seat.

“You like my outfit today? I picked it out specifically for you.” your words turned breathy as you leaned closer to the quiet genius, “You’ve been dressing sooo nice lately, honey, I wanted to look just as pretty as you.” You picked up one of his hands that had slid down to grasp your ankle, pushing his palm flat onto your led as you dragged it up the limb. Under your dress it went, enticing Spencer closer to you in response until his chest hit your shin. His fingers curled onto your thigh, analyzing the smoothness of your tights before you stopped. Instead, you took his fingers and pressed them into the lacey top of your sheer black thigh-high stockings. Another little move, press, and pause, allowing Spencer’s fingers to analyze. They were latched to a garter belt. The realization drew a soft groan from the back of his throat as his forehead dropped onto your knee. He loved when you would wear these. Spencer placed a few barely-there kisses where he could, using his hand to explore your thigh, taking in the difference between your warm skin and the cool nylon. You relished in the way he dug his fingernails into your supple flesh.

“So beautiful…” his whispers into your silked skin tugged a devilish grin up your cheeks. You felt his eyebrows furrow and you could tell his lips were pursed. You craved for his big hands and chapped yet moistened lips to press all over your body, but the teasing was just too fun to quit so soon. Instead, you wove your fingers through his hair, pushing back and coaxing him to look up at you. His cheeks were flushed clove-pink, eyelids drooping slightly as he gazed longingly at your mouth. Spencer’s body tried to jump closer to you, his hands respectively gripped your upper thigh and ankle in a failed attempt to hoist himself up to your hypnotizing smile. You swore you heard him let out a faint moan as his crotch grazed against your lower extremity. This sparked a match in your head.

Much to Spencer’s displeasure you moved away from him, leaning back on hands placed firmly on the desk. He tried to move forward to follow you, but your clothed foot left his crotch to land on his chest, effectively stopping his movements. Spencer let out a huff as it began dragging down his torso, pushing him back into his chair, before its path ended. Your foot hovered over the obvious bulge in his black trousers. “I love wearing these tights,” you started nonchalantly, “They make me feel so pretty and put-together; so hot,” you added a tantalizing emphasis, as if the word was naughty. Your lightly padded toes circled around where Spencer wanted them the most. Instead they avoided it a little longer, going to trace the design of his belt buckle. He screwed his eyes closed- whether to contain himself or simply feel your movements was uncertain. He let out an impatient whine. “Don’t you think so, sweetheart?” The sole of your foot finally flattened on Spencer’s covered cock.

“Yes, yes, yes” he earnestly groaned out, the hand on your ankle desperately pushing your foot further onto his bulge. That’s what you loved most about fooling around with your beloved- always so eager. You bit back the moan of your own that threatened to spill as Spencer threw his head back. You watched the pads of his fingers dig into your ankle, the other hand slid down the back of your calf to meet its twin as his hips lifted slightly off the chair to grind into your foot. His length hardening and extending could be felt against your sole, slightly ticklish. The scene before you was addictive, the sounds escaping his lips so dirty and provocative. He tugged your leg to press you harder to him, causing you to almost slip off the desk.

“Tuttutut,” you chided, “slow down, big boy. I never said you could do all that, did I?” As soon as your light scolding processed in his mind, all of his actions stopped. Spencer quickly shook his head while trying to catch his breath. “Answer me.” you tried again. His eyelids blinked open, gaze meek.

“No, no you didn’t.” He removed his hands from your leg, running them through his hair before plopping them onto the arms of the chair as he panted, “I’m sorry, baby, you just feel so good,” he paused to look at you, swallowing hard. “God, I’ve missed you.” His words were smile-inducing. You dragged your foot off of him, deliberately using extra pressure to earn a deep and husky groan. Spencer’s eyes briefly rolled back into his head before they closed again. You could see tiny glistening beads of sweat forming at the edges on his hairline. His eyebrows furrowed and his Adam’s apple shifted a couple times, miniscule twitches plucked the corners of his mouth.

“What are you thinking about now?” you were clearly amused, feet slightly kicking out like a giddy schoolgirl. Spencer didn’t miss a beat in responding.

“You. I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about h-how good you make me feel and how much I want you to touch me more,” another gulp. “How much I want to touch you.” His hands gripped the plastic chair arms, causing them to squeak. You giggled at this. To Spencer, you sounded wicked.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you baby.” Your words immediately caused him to squirm, whines leaving his throat. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet. It wasn’t a question, you knew for a fact that’s exactly what he’s thinking, even if he won’t say it like that. Not yet, at least. The team had back-to-back cases for the last month and a half, and the two of you haven’t had a chance to actually have sex in the same length of time. You snuck cuddle sessions in each other’s hotel rooms a couple times, but kept them to a minimum as to not arouse suspicion from your teammates. You couldn’t take it anymore, especially with how good he looked today- how good he has looked the last few weeks, really.

It wasn’t always that you showed your dominant side in bed, but it was all you could think about doing lately.

“Say it. Tell me you want to fuck me, Spencie.”

Another squirm. Eyes squeezed shut.

“Be a good boy, baby. Look at me.” your voice was sterner this time, though the playful edge hadn’t fully dissipated. It took a couple seconds but Spencer’s eyelashes finally fluttered open, “There we go,” you cooed. Spencer swallowed in anticipation, still worming a bit in his seat with arms glued to their spots. “Now, tell me what I want to hear.” you leaned your body forward, hoping to come off a bit more domineering.

Spencer took in a deep breath, eyes flitting around the room in an attempt to avoid your gaze. You didn’t want to ask again, residing to clearing your throat to get your message across. He understood what that meant- you were getting impatient and if you didn’t get what you wanted you would simply stop. He didn’t want that. It’s not like the statement was incorrect, it just wasn’t something that was ever in Dr. Spencer Reid’s ordinary vernacular and he wasn’t yet in the headspace for it to come out without a second thought. He didn’t want to sound stupid. But, oh, he wanted you. Thus, he swallowed his doubts and began,

“Yes,” he nodded his head vigorously, eyes closing just for a millisecond, “I…” His gaze finally locked with yours, “I want to fuck you.”

Damn, the words sounded so incredibly, completely filthy dripping from Spencer’s innocent lips and you wanted to lick up every drop. Your pussy reactively clenched around nothing, and you wanted to surge forwards and push your mouth onto his in a hot kiss- half what Spencer himself expected (and wanted) you to do- but you controlled yourself. Instead, you remained calm, sliding off your desk and toeing your kitten heels back on your feet all while maintaining eye-contact with Spencer. You prowled towards him. His saliva hitched in his throat, heart skipped a beat, breathing quickened. He remained still while you leaned down towards him. Your minty breath fanned over his face, and Spencer wished you would just kiss him already. Of course, you knew that was what he wanted and so you wouldn’t let him have it just now. He watched your face as you brought your hand to his jaw. Your thumb dragged across his bottom lip and down, moving to pull the tie out of his sweater vest. You used it to pull Spencer closer to you, his chin tilted up, reaching out to connect your lips. Just as they were about to touch…you stopped. “Come here,” was all you whispered. And in a flash, you were standing straight up, using the tie to move him up with you. Backwards you walked, returning to your original position on the small desk. As you scooted up a bit, disregarding the important papers you were most definitely damaging, you hiked up your dress to allow your legs to fall open. Spencer moved to stand in between them, but much to his dismay you were too far on the desk for him to be able to feel the warmth radiate from your core. Obviously, that was done on purpose.

Spencer knew he shouldn’t touch you yet, so he rested his hands on the desk close to your hips, only using the tips of his thumbs to brush back and forth between the lace of your stockings and the skin of your thighs. Good boy, you thought, but kept it to yourself. You slowly, yet deftly unbuttoned the cuffs and folded up the sleeves of his shirt, licking your lips at the sight of his hairy and veiny bare arms. You brought them each up to place a light kiss on the inside of his wrists, shifting up the watch on his left, before returning them to their original position. Spencer watched with bated breath and a parted mouth as you then began to seductively undo the top few buttons of your dress, pushing the fabric to the sides to allow Spencer to gaze down at the cleavage hardly contained by your lacy, deep green bra. (It didn’t escape him that they matched your heels). This enticed a moan from the disheveled man. He threw his head back, looking up at the bright ceiling lights in an attempt to grab his bearings, “You’re going to kill me.” he whispered.

You held his face in both your hands, pulling it down to look at you again, “Good.” you whispered back in delight. Fingers traveled to the back of his neck, playing with and tugging at the ends of his hair for a minute before moving to push the dark gray woolen blazer off his shoulders where they then replaced the material with massages. Spencer's eyes shut at the pressures of your ministrations, forehead dropping to rest against your own as a feeling of peace and warmth flooded his veins. He almost forgot how horny he was- almost. He whined at the lost palpations as your hands changed course to loosen his tie. You left it on, opting to unbutton the top of his button-up. Your fingernails scratched at the exposed skin at the base of his neck and top of his hair-sprinkled chest before they danced up to trace his Adam’s apple.

“I want you.” Spencer moaned.

“I know, baby.” you held his face between your hands again, firmly so he couldn’t move, “I want you, too,” Your face inched closer to his at a worm’s pace, and all Spencer could do was watch in impatient anticipation. “You’re just so fun to play with.” You nudged your nose against his, leaving a ghost of a kiss on his lips.

“More, please.” He groaned, head straining against your grasp, his eyelids falling shut.

You giggled sweetly, “Just a bit more, since you asked so nicely,” and you began to press more light kisses where you wanted to- on his top lip, the corners of his mouth, the little dip of his chin, his cupid’s bow, and finally the tip of his nose- your own lightly knocking against his with each proximal peck. Spencer sighed as you leaned away from him.

“Please,” he breathed out. Spencer leaned into your right palm, eyelids opening to reveal a contented, dazed look.

“You said you wanted me to touch you, didn’t you, baby?” your hands started to move, down the front of his chest to creep under the hem of his dark blue sweater vest.

“Mhm…” he nodded excitedly, a content sigh leaving his nose. You pulled the light-blue button-up out of his trouser, the feeling of your cool hands splaying against the warm, bare skin of his lower abdomen had Spencer reeling. You dug the tips of your fingers down a path along his hidden abs and happy trail before curling them around to his lower back where you scratched long horizontal lines. You loved touching him, just feeling his skin. But, Spencer wasn’t the only one losing a little bit of patience.

The sound of his belt buckle clinking undone caused his stomach to somersault. You roughly undid the button and zipper of his trousers before pushing them down just enough to grant you access to what you wanted. Spencer’s forehead thumped lightly against yours, finding its favorite spot again- well, second-favorite if we’re being honest. His breath quickened. You weren’t done teasing yet, though. Peering down, the outline of his hard cock straining against his boxer-briefs, a wet spot accumulating in the gray cotton, sent a jolt to your gut.

“Look at you,” your head tilted up, “so hard for me,” you whispered against his lips. Fingers snapped the waistband of his underwear against his stomach. “What a good boy.” Spencer’s brows furrowed against yours, prompting you to plant a kiss between them, leaving your lips there for a second while you dragged a single deep-brown-polished nail up the length of his covered hard-on.

He whined out your name, his voice hiccupping, “Please, please. Touch me.” The sound of paper crushing told you his hands still sitting by your sides were crumpling the files on the table. Spencer tried so hard not to move his hips, fearing you would stop everything. He resided to fist his hands and nudge his head against yours instead.

“Where?” Could you be any more cruel? Spencer groaned in frustration. Yes, you definitely could. He shouldn’t fight it.

“Please! My-my c-cock.” He swallowed hard to stop his stuttering. “Please touch my cock!” More sounds of paper rustling.

You giggled at his desperation, “Oh, honey, you’re so filthy.” Though, if you were being honest, you were just about getting there, too. Your swollen clit was pulsing in excitement, thin underwear increasingly dampening in your slick. If Spencer wasn’t standing between your legs, you’d be pressing your thighs together in an attempt to get yourself off. “If that’s what my baby wants...”

Finally, your right hand descended into his boxer-briefs, quickly using his ample precum to coat your palm before wrapping your fingers around his length. You gave him a good squeeze, prompted by the deep moan he let out, and started to jack him off.

“Oh, my god.” Spencer groaned, head dropping down to your shoulders. His hands flew up to tightly grip the fat of your hips. His hair tickled your ears, hot breath summoned goosebumps across your chest.

You hummed in response, hooking your heels around the back of his calves as you continued pumping. Your other hand moved to cup and press into his balls through his underwear.

“A-ah!” he tensed up a bit. Spencer’s balls were always a very sensitive spot, almost as if he was biologically wired to be afraid of any touch there. It was your favorite thing to do though- especially wrapping your lips around them.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you whispered in his ear, nipping lightly at the lobe, “I’ve gotchu. It feels good, doesn’t it?” Your coos against his cheek immediately soothed the tension in his back and you could feel it radiate off of him in waves.

“Yesss,” He mumbled through a groan, pushing his face into the side of your neck and moving his grip up to your waist, “So good.” He let his hips move now, and so did you. He lightly thrusted up into your fist as much as he could with what little leverage his narrow stance afforded him.

You swiped a thumb over the head of his cock and lightly squeezed his engorged balls, causing him to gasp as his hips involuntarily bucked up. You felt his blazen, wet mouth drop open against your skin. Your hand turned and pushed, twisted and pulled, squeezed and tugged, Spencer’s moans growing louder and louder in your ear. Your eyes remained shut, relishing in the sounds he was making and the feeling of his burning skin against yours. Now, it was your turn to want more.

Suddenly, your hands left his dick. Before he could complain, you pushed his briefs down to fully expose him to the crisp air and pulled yourself closer to him in one motion, ignoring the crinkling of paper beneath you. He could feel the heat of your clothed core press up against his impossibly hard dick, causing the both of you to moan in unison. You rested your hands back on the desk and leaned away.

“Touch me, baby.” you breathed out.

Fuck, yes. Spencer thought as his hands surged forward, quickly undoing the last few buttons of your dress before roughly pushing the barrier open, fully exposing your cleavage. With a groan, his fingers pulled down the cups of your intricately designed bra to expose your perky nipples and his mouth immediately descended on them. Your head rolled back. The gasps and moans he was finally able to pluck from your throat were like music to Spencer’s ears. He sucked, nibbled, licked one areola while he pinched, twirled, and rubbed the other. His thumb rolled over the peak of your left nipple, pressing and dragging into the miniscule dip just how you liked it, causing the pit of your stomach to drop and your body to squirm. “Shit!” you hissed out, head snapping up to get a look at him. Spencer looked up at you in response, his eyes glinting with ferocity. His free arm wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers dug into your side, holding your body up to him. One of your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands to make him moan around your nipple, the other gripped at the knitted fabric on his back. He continued moving from breast to breast, catching his breath only for half-a-second while he pawed at them before latching onto the next. Your squirming movements increased, moans becoming more high-pitched as your hands pulled at his hair in an effort to get his head off of you. It signaled to Spencer: you were becoming overstimulated. His mouth pulled off of you with a pop! and you gasped in response.

He let you catch your breath for a moment, watching the rapid rise and fall of your tits while you watched his face through smiling eyes. The corners of his mouth were slightly wet, lips swollen from all the sucking, hair incredibly disheveled from your man-handling. You couldn't help but bite your lip and hum. So pretty. Just as you were about to speak, Spencer leaned down again and began kissing all over your chest and neck. His big, warm hands moved from your ribs to splay over your back, still holding you up to hover over the desk- one in the middle, the other between your scapulae. Your own moved to wrap around his shoulders. He pressed sloppy, damp kisses along the tops of your breast and over your collar bones before moving to the column of your throat. His lips dragged to each side, stopping to nip and suck here and there. Even in his fevered motions, he remained careful not to leave visible hickies, no matter how badly he wanted to fixate on a single place. Once he was thoroughly satisfied in covering your entire neck with kisses, he focused on the sweet spot on the right side, exactly where your pulsepoint was. “Oh Spencer,” the honeyed words caused him to groan, egging him on even more. Your fingers dug into the back of Spencer's own neck, legs wrapped around his ass, bringing him further into you. One particular suck and bite had you twitch your hips up, successfully rubbing your pussy against Spencer’s poor, neglected cock. This spurred him on. He was doing so well, using all his willpower to focus on pleasing you. To be a good boy for you and not rut his throbbing, leaking dick against your hot, wet cunt, but you finally did it yourself- you started it- which meant Spencer could now lose himself in his desires. The pressure had him nuzzling his face into your neck once again, lips open to breathe heavily against your warm skin.

One of his hands left the middle of your back to travel down your body, moving to grip your thigh and pull you to wrap your legs tightly around his waist while his legs spread further apart. The heightened angle and gained leverage allowed Spencer's cock to drag up and down the entirety of your cunt with greater pressure, drawing out even more noises from the both of you.

“Oh my fucking God, Spence. Feels so good..” your choked out words caused him to dig his nails into your skin. You’d definitely be greeted with little crescent shapes tomorrow morning. You leaned your head against his, hands flying to grab onto wherever you could- tangling in his hair, bunching up in the shirt of his broad shoulders, scratching against his neck.

The pleasure seeped into every crevice of Spencer’s brain, consuming any thoughts that didn’t revolve around you. He held onto you as if letting you go meant sending the world into ragnarok. “God, I..” he mumbled, shifting his grasp on your thigh to firmly cup your head in his palm. He couldn’t stop rutting into you, hunched over your body like a crazed animal, even though it was impeding his ability to speak. He licked his lips, readying to speak.

“I wanna fuck you so badly, baby.”

The intensity of his words, his piercing gaze, and the particularly long and deep drag of his bare cock against your dressed clit practically had you cumming. Your head rolled to hang back in the air, almost hitting the desk if it weren’t for Spencer's other hand on your neck holding it up, thumb draped lightly over your jugular. Your eyes tightly screwed, bottom lip pulled in by your teeth in a sorry attempt to heed the salacious noises leaving your mouth. The light feeling of your pussy fluttering almost had Spencer pulling your barely-there panties to the side and shoving his cock into you.

The man should be lauded and awarded for his self-control, but the need to please you triumphed over every biological impulse or desire Spencer would ever feel. He knew what you wanted. He knew your favorite part about teasing him- playing with him, stringing him up- was the burning, fervent, feral kiss it resulted in. Even though it used all his willpower he stopped his thrusting, pulling a drawn-out whine from the back of your throat. “Nooo,” you huffed and pouted.

With force, Spencer yanked your head up to bring your eyes back to his level. He stared into your wide, surprised eyes for a moment, breathing fast and hard before he pulled you forward. Your lips met in an impassioned embrace, hot and heavy. Greedy mouths wide as if to gorge on each other’s impurities. Both of Spencer’s hands grasped your head, fingers digging into the back of your scalp, almost pulling at strands of your hair. Yours rounded his torso, pulling him as close to you as possible. The feverish kiss was messy, loud, and erotic. Tongues wrestled, teeth clashed, noses collided. The taste of Spencer’s saliva was addictive, your mouth pushed into his to gain as much of it as it could. You swallowed his moans, he happily lapped up yours. The motions of your hips started up again, adding to the delectability.

Spencer tried to pull away from you, but you wouldn’t have any of it. You locked your ankles around his waist and bit his bottom lip in an effort to keep his swollen mouth of yours. He rested his forehead against yours again, thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. The feeling of your panties rubbing against your clit was almost becoming too much.

“Please,” he breathed, “I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you.”

“We c-can’t,” it was your turn to stutter, too overcome with desire to be cocky anymore, “they’ll hear us, we’ll…we’ll get in trouble.” Moans cut into your words. What utter bullshit. The sounds of your debauchery filled every corner of Spencer’s modest hotel room and both of you knew in the back of your fucked-out brains that it was all already dancing down the hallway for everyone to hear. The continuous crumpling of papers; occasional thwap of files hitting the carpeted floor; the consistent thunk, thunk, thunk of the wooden desk beating against the wall; the sharp sound of your kitten heels wrestling with one another around Spencer’s waist; and, of course, the melodiously lewd octaves crawling up from each of your vocal chords.

He hated that answer. You swear you heard Spencer growl as he adjusted to roughly throw each of your legs over his shoulders, always keeping one hand behind your head, before bending over you once again. Your hands flew down to hopelessly grasp at the papers under you. He loved bringing out that surprised look on your face.

“A-ah, Spencer!” The new angle was intoxicating. Every single sensation was overwhelming your senses. The pinches of your dress still bunched up around your upper thighs and creasing in your elbows. The fabric of his vest was rubbing against your hardened and sensitive nipples. Spencer's right hand rested on the base of your throat while the other twisted in your hair. The back of your thighs and calves stretched at the unwarranted position. The smell of musk and sweat proliferated the air around you two. The friction of his stubbled balls chafed your reddening ass. Your bra cups and wire dug into your ribs, the thick belt of your dress pressing your stomach. And of course, the heavenly feeling of his burning, heavy cock rutting against your core. “I think I’m gonna-” you couldn’t finish your exclamation, voice cut off by a sharp gasp of pleasure. No, you weren’t, not yet. You wanted more, too.

Spencer was emboldened by the mixture of oxytocin and endorphins rushing through his veins and the entirety of you engulfing his senses. He gripped your hair tighter as his confidence grew and pushed his forehead harder against yours to look deep into your watering eyes, “I need to feel your tight pussy, baby.” His voice was quiet, yet stern and full- no hint of hesitation or embarrassment. No stuttering or stammering. Your head reeled.

“Fuck me, please!” was all you could say before reaching down and hurriedly grabbing your panties, clumsily pulling them to the side- no toying, no dirty talk, no teasing. Spencer took the cue, using the hand on your throat to instead guide his dick into your entrance.

Finally, he thought while he pushed into you as he straightened up a bit, letting out a guttural groan. The beautiful tone of your sigh tickled his ears. Your pussy was so wet, and in turn so was his cock. You sucked in the entirety of his length with little problem. The thick, pudgy walls of your cunt enveloped Spencer’s dick deliciously, warmth causing his eyes to roll back into his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so tight.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. He still held up your head, but his right hand moved down the outside of your thigh, fisting the lacy tops of your tights with a moan of your name

“Ah! You’re so big, honey.” You groaned in response, hands grabbing onto each of his wrists. It’s true, he was. Not the biggest cock in the world, but he stretched you out so incredibly every time. The perfect size.

You were so close to orgasming- you knew with just a few little movements you’d be pushed over the finish line. Nothing had to be said, though, Spencer was fully aware, but he wanted to savor this a bit more; give you a taste of your own medicine, if you will. He leaned in, pulling your head closer to his to envelope your lips with his again. Your legs sandwiched in between your torsos burned at the stretch, but you paid it no mind.

“Please,” you begged shamelessly against his bottom lip. Spencer let out a small, breathy laugh, pushing your messed up hair out of your face. He pulled away from you to stand up straight, not without gaining a whine in response. You tried to keep your head up to watch him better, but you were losing your strength. With a light thud, you let your head fall against the wooden surface, the wall pressing against the top of your hair. He still wasn’t moving yet, and your orgasm ebbed slightly away. Spencer rubbed his big hands up and down the legs resting on his shoulders, massaging and kissing them wherever he felt like it. He took in the sight of you squirming and whining below him, fingers grasping at any of the random papers left on the desk they could reach, chest heaving. Your pearled nipples stood at attention, compelling him to ghost his fingers over them. He was barely touching you, but the moans and sighs would not stop leaving your throat. With a last kiss to your right calf, Spencer spread your legs open, toes of your kitten heels pointed out towards either side of the room. You watched him through hooded eyelids, hands going to support your legs for him. He tickled his nails deeply up the insides of your thighs, the light pain had you squirming and gasping even more which doubled as your movements had you shifting on Spencer’s cock. It felt so good, but the doctor held his own noises in, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You said,” you pouted breathlessly, “you wanted to fuck me. Hurry, hurry!” You need to cum so badly.

“Isn’t so fun on the other side, is it?” his mischievous smirk mocked you. It was a lie, it was most definitely fun on the receiving end, but it was even more so on this one. His right hand slid up to cup your chin, thumb pressing onto your lips mirroring your earlier actions, “So desperate,” he murmured, hands moving to grab onto your waist. You huffed and shut your eyes, head rolling to the side. You tried to just focus on Spencer’s touch and feel, but he stopped further motions.

You were so beautiful; in every moment of your lives, but especially like this. Spencer paused for a minute, eyes boring into every centimeter of your figure to burn the image of you into his brain. Your hair splayed over the desk, reminiscent of an angel’s halo; eyes screwed shut with smeared mascara at the corners; glossed lips parted in desire. Oh, how delicious they’d look wrapped around his dick. Your inviting, stocking-clad legs held open just for him, manicured fingers digging into the back of your knees. Spencer’s cock excitedly twitched inside of you once his gaze reached your glistening, swollen pussy, the puffy lips gripping the base of him. His hands wrapped around your own, gripping tight, using them and your legs for balance as he slowly pulled his cock out of your entrance, leaving just the tip inside. He was mesmerized, it was a sight he’d seen many times before and was sure to see much more of in the future, but it hypnotized him anyway. He watched as your pussy clenched around him in a failed attempt to keep him in or pull him back, but Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen just yet. His tip pulled out just a bit further before pushing back in a centimeter, repeating the sequence a few more times, playing with your gaping slit. You tried to suck his cock back into you, but Spencer resisted. One more motion and the head of his dick popped out of your clutches with an audible squelch. He reached down this time, grabbing and rubbing his length against your cunt- side to side, up and down. Moans and expletives repeatedly left your mouth, but Spencer continued with a drunken smile on his lips. He slapped the head of his cock against your clit, causing you to twitch and yelp. He loved the reaction, prompting a couple more hits with the same response.

“Spencie…” you whined, ungraciously curling your hips up to gain more friction.

He was about to give in, but there was one other part of you he needed to see. With a single motion, he gripped the outside of your thighs and pulled your body further down the desk, dick sliding against your clit.

“Oh, shit!” you let out, your head craning to look up at him.

Spencer roughly pawed at your dress. He first pulled at the top, but it wouldn’t open up more to give him what he wanted, the belt positioned in the way. He moved on, pushing the skirt even high up, bunching it around your waist. He sighed in delight. The delicate filigree of your black garter belt laying right below your belly button stared up at him seductively, begging him to touch her. Spencer’s hands had a mind of their own as they palmed over the fabric, fingers moving over and under the top band to snap it against your skin- just like you did to him. The sound wasn’t as sharp, nevertheless it brought him pleasure. You mewed, lips curled up in a satisfied smile. Internally, you chuckled. You knew he loved the silly little piece of lingerie.

It was the last piece of the puzzle, the final key to the terminal level. Spencer grabbed two fistfuls of the garter belt and the bunched fabric of your neglected, cooling underwear and, without warning, swiftly pulled you completely onto his cock. You both yelled as he bottomed out, your eyes blowing wide open and jaw dropping slack open.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” Spencer breathed out. The look on your face egged him on. He pulled his cock fully out of you before using your clothing to slam you down onto him again. He stilled for just a second, catching his breath and steadying himself. Before you could utter a single syllable, he began fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

The initial burn faded into sweet bliss. Your pussy fluttered and clenched around Spencer’s dick and he thrusted into you fast and deep. The bruising feeling of his tip pounding into your cervix gave way to a more intense sensation, your orgasm bubbling back up inside. His powerful motions caused your arms to fly up and Spencer deliriously watched your mouth-watering tits bounce up, down, up, down. Your hands pushed against the wall, trying to prevent your head from hitting it. Although at first you both tried to halter your noises, it proved fruitless. Inattentively, you let your moans and gasps and grunts stretch out to be as loud as they so pleased. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but the desire to watch Spencer fuck you was stronger. His hair flopped around at the sides, the strands at his hairline pasted to his forehead with sweat. He looked utterly pornographic, clothes still on but extremely tousled and uncentered. Sleeves pushed up, collar spread open, tie unevenly loose. His belt buckle clanged against itself, hanging from the trousers still draped around his mid-thighs. You removed one of your hands from the wall, pushing up the front of his body as much as you could, instead. You moved the bottom of his shirt and sweater vest to claw at his abdomen, focusing on the happy trail you loved to lick up.

Spencer felt the same way as you. He fought to keep his eyes open, gaze flitting all over your body and face instead. You were intoxicating. When your own wandering eyes met his as your hand came down to his lower stomach, he let out a particularly loud moan, pounding into your even harder. The intensity had you latching onto his wrist. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel better, Spencer moved his thumbs down to your cunt, pushing your swollen pussy lips together around his moving cock before shifting them to press against your clit.

“Holy fuck!” You let out, eyes screwing shut as your other hand left the wall to desperately match your existing hold on Spencer’s wrist. He rubbed in circles with one thumb as best he could, the other pressing into your fatty labia where he knew you had a sensitive spot. You began squirming, nails digging into Spencer’s skin, and you couldn’t even begin to care about your head lightly hitting the wall. “Spencer! I’m gonna come!”

Spencer rubbed just a bit harder into your clit, earning an enthusiastic, “Just like that!” as your eyes rolled back into your head. He groaned at this, feeling your walls close around his dick.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he huffed, maintaining his pace and pressure, “come for me, angel.”

Your core tightened up, and with just a few more thrusts your orgasm came crashing down on you. Waves of blinding white light washed over your body as you gushed around Spencer’s cock with a call of his name. The gripping and flitting of your pussy had Spencer groaning and he quickly shifted his arms, letting go of his hold on your garter belt and underwear to hold on to your waist, your limping legs hooking over his elbows. He didn’t let up his thrusts, chasing the orgasm of his own he was so close to reaching. He pushed the impending feeling down, not wanting to give up the sanctity of your hot cunt just yet, but he couldn’t stop his hips.

As your orgasm began to subside and overstimulation prickled along your nerves, you tried to clench your legs closed, but Spencer wasn’t having any of it. He bent over you to push your legs open and press his forehead back onto yours. “Spencer!” you gasped, staring up at him wide-eyed and frantic. Your hands gripped his flexing forearms, “It’s too much!”

“You’re gonna take it,” he grunted out, fingers digging into the fat of your sides. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard for a second, his thrusts beginning to show signs of faltering. You felt so fucking good he almost wished he didn’t ever have to come, that he could fuck you through orgasm after orgasm without stopping. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded vigorously, babbling incoherently in agreement through frenzied moans.

“So you’re gonna take it just like this,” he gulped, pushing down a groan at your clenching pussy, “and I’m gonna fucking come inside of you.” His last words came out in a growl, drawing out longer moans from you as his thrusts started to include sloppier grinds.

Spencer's pelvis grounded into your clit, his balls continued to slap against your ass, his erotic words mushed your brain, and soon the overstimulation pulling tears from your eyes turned into ecstasy and you neared a second orgasm. A strewn out, deep “Fuckk,” crawled from Spencer’s throat as your cunt squeezed him in quick succession, followed by your name being whispered and moaned repeatedly like a mantra.

You wanted to come again at the same time as him, and you were right at the edge, just as you knew he was, so you pushed him further to the precipice, “Spencer,” you pleaded breathlessly, “come on, baby.” You rested your hand on his cheek, urging him to open his eyes and look at you. “Fill me up.”

He groaned in response, head dropping down to press against the top of your breasts. A couple more sloppy, hard thrusts and he started “I’m gonna-”

But just before he could finish, you were jolted into stillness by a deafened boom, boom, boom. What the hell?

Someone was at the door.

You let out a yelp, Spencer’s hand immediately flew up to slap against your mouth.

“Reid? What’s going on in there?” You heard from the other side of the door. It was fucking Rossi.

Author's Note: muahaha >:D idk why but this is just how i imagined this piece ending. hope you guys liked ittttt, if you're reading this thanks for sticking to it. should i write a pt.2? i def already know how i'd continue (tho not smutty). did not think smut would be the first spencer fanfic i'd post. thinking of writing a follow up where spencer finally gets his release teehee. i'd love feedback and comments, pls! ty lovelies <3

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #can you tell i loovvee foreplay ehehe #this took me over a week to write lmao #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.1k] that nick millar line that's like "stop being mean to me i'll fall in love with you." scoops!steve, record store!reader and some weird drabbles about how steve gets flustered i don't like this i'm sorry

Steve knew he was a goner when he spotted you stacking shelves at the record store. He’d asked Eddie your name and the boy had cackled, slapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Harrington, she’d eat you alive.’

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Steve had answered.

You wore boots with laces that were never fully tied, fishnet tights, bike shorts and too big T-shirts that served as dresses, gold rings on your fingers and ruby red lipstick on Saturdays.

You looked like trouble, like a whole lot of fun and Steve took Eddie’s warning as a personal challenge.

The first time he spoke to you, it was on his day off and he shoved some dollar bills at Dustin, Lucas and Max, told them to go to the arcade and stay in the arcade.

He found you behind the register, perched on a tall stool and flicking through records, cassettes littering the desk and your foot tap, tap, tapping against the wooden legs. Your store was quieter than the rest of the mall, so Steve tried to act casual, thanked everything holy that he wasn’t wearing his scoops uniform and browsed the boxes of music.

He kept letting his eyes flicker to you, the store dimly lit and smelling like old books and smoke, a stark contrast to the sweet sugar and bright lights of Scoops Ahoy.

It was nice, Steve noted, cosy, warm, a strange kind of quiet despite the music that played overhead. He didn’t even own a record player, not anymore, not since he’d been gifted a shiny new Walkman for his Christmas after his parents were out of town on his birthday.

But still, there was something calming about thumbing through the sleeves, some pre owned and fraying at the edges, arranged in their own box that was labelled ‘already loved.’ The handwriting was neat and romantic looking, big swirls and loops in the L’s and Steve wondered if it was yours, if you were sweeter than your big doc martens suggested.

But then he took his choices to the cash desk and you looked up from the price labels you were sticking to each record, a smile that was like sunshine and sin on your lips. You looked him up and down, one eyebrow raised and now that he was closer, Steve could see a gold hoop in one nostril.

He swallowed, tried to say something cool, something flirty, something alluring, but his throat was sticky like honey and he was suddenly speechless. Steve Harrington had lines, he knew how to flirt - sometimes it didn’t work, he could admit that now - but not a single word came from his mouth.

You were really something. A smirk rather than a smile, jewellery making you glitter, eyes lighting up at the sight of him and Steve felt like he had a neon sign above him, a shiny big arrow saying ‘fresh meat.’

He suddenly knew what Eddie had meant. He was out of his depth.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

God, scratch that, he was drowning.

Your voice was sweet, lined with a laugh, like you knew something he didn’t and Steve Harrington had never been shy in his life but your words had his cheeks tinted pink and he could feel the same heat at the tips of his ears.

“Did you find everything you needed?”

He stuttered, stammered, licked his lips and nodded instead. It was that magic kind of flirting, the kind where no one really spoke but the idea was heavy and thick and tension in it made your head spin. And maybe you weren’t as affected as Steve was, but the boy felt a little giddy with it, eyes nervously dancing between yours and your hands, watching the way you bagged up his records.

He didn’t even know what he’d bought.

But he took the bag from you with a smile that made him look really soft, hand warm as it brushed your own and he didn’t even wait for his change, he just backed out of the store with a dazed look in his eyes and the sound of your laughter following him.

—————

The second time Steve saw you, was half way through his lunch break, his hands full of soda cans and wrapped up sandwiches for himself and Robin, ‘cause there were only so many tubs of rocky road he could have instead of real food.

You were rounding the corner the same time as he was, barely managing to avoid colliding, shoulders bumping and a can of Dr. Pepper falling to the floor and making a break for it. It rolled enough for Steve to deem it a lost cause, telling himself he’d share his drink with Robin instead of trying to juggle it back into his already full arms.

But then you were catching it, wiggling it at him between a finger and a thumb as you carefully tucked it in the free space under his chin. He gaped, realising who he’d bumped into too late. You were a pretty painting, black lines above your lashes all cat like, lips coloured in a soft rosy shade. The sweater you wore was too big, bike shorts barely peeking out from the hem and you made music as you moved, necklaces catching against each other.

You were lovely. But your smile was dangerous.

“Thanks, uh, thank you- for that,” Steve managed, trying to gesture to the soda but almost losing two sandwiches and a bag of chips in the process. “Shit.”

“S’alright,” you told him softly and Steve had almost forgotten what your voice had sounded like, because after the first visit to the record store, he’d been too embarrassed to return.

He’d kept watch from behind the ice cream freezer, sighing over you as he refilled mint chocolate chip and scattered more sprinkles on floor than he did atop of cones. Robin thought it was disgusting.

“Lunch time?” You asked and it was obvious, the way you were making conversation, seemingly actually wanting to talk to him but Steve couldn’t wrap his head around why.

He nodded, too fast, hair flopping into his eyes and he had no free hands to smooth it back. Was he red again? He felt warm. You were smiling, eyes on his, scanning his face, taking in each of his features without any shame, bold in each of your actions.

Fuck. You were really pretty.

“Uh yeah, yeah,” Steve managed, “for me and uh,” he looked back, saw Robin leaning over the cash register with a grin on her lips as she watched on, more than amused. “And uh…”

“Your girlfriend?” You prompted. You sounded intrigued, voice still soft. “The pretty one in the hat?”

“Oh no, god no,” Steve replied and you grinned at how quick he spoke. He shook his head, fumbled another sandwich was still gazing at you from behind his messy hair. “I mean, fuck, she’s pretty and yeah, she’s wearing a hat but— no, not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” you were smiling, arms crossed as you tried not to full on grin at the way the boy was floundering, trying his best to assure you that his co-worker was definitely not his girlfriend.

“I mean, we’re friends,” he was telling you, “best friends but like, super platonic. So platonic. I’m single.” Steve swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “So single.”

You didn’t miss the little ‘fuck,’ he whispered into the lunch he was still clutching to his chest and his cheeks went from rosy to ruby, a flush across the high points of his face that you would adorable.

You didn’t say anything, not yet, but you leaned a little closer and pushed yourself onto your toes so you could sweep a hand through the front of his hair, pushing back the locks that had fallen into his face.

Steve wondered if he had stopped breathing.

“That’s better,” you hummed and you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at his stricken expression. He looked panicked in the best way.

Steve nodded and you took it as a thanks because his lips were parted and his brown eyes were turning into honey and he looked a little wrecked. It was fun, you realised, watching the way he reacted to you.

“It’s Steve, right?” You tapped at his name badge, still standing too close for what some people would consider polite but Steve smelled like sugar and mint and the forest, like cedar or pine.

Steve cleared his throat, tried not to stare at your lips when you said his name and he nodded, “yeah, uh— Steve Harrington.”

Another grin from you, wide and bright and fucking magical, because Steve decided that every time you smiled at him he felt like he was turning inside out.

“Okay, Single Steve Harrington—” he cut you off with a groan and it was suddenly your new favourite sound. “—I need to get back to work, enjoy your lunch.”

“Right, yeah, shit,” he winced at the way his voice cracked and Jesus Christ, he thought to himself, what was he? Sixteen again? “Uh, do I get to know your name?” It was a lie. He knew your name. He’d asked Eddie weeks ago.

And you must’ve been thinking the same because you laughed, reallt fucking cutely, Steve noticed, nose scrunched and eyes bright as you said, “don’t play coy, pretty boy, I know who your friends are.”

You left him standing there, cheeks still flushed, soft hair perfectly rumpled from how you’d pushed it back and you couldn’t help yourself. You turned, a head over your shoulder, lashes lowered as you looked him up and down, doing the least you could to try and hide it.

“Hey Steve?”

The boy's head snapped round to you, eyes wide as ever. His pretty face was a question mark.

“Nice shorts.”

—————

The third time, Steve was almost confident enough to say you sought him out.

Because it was a slow Tuesday and the summer outside had reached its peak, the sun warming the mall through the glass roof like a greenhouse, the air stifling and hazy. It was too warm for even ice cream, most of Hawkins had seemed to decide, and even the kids had passed up on free samples in favour of spending a day at the pool.

But there you were, record store lanyard missing from your neck which told Steve it was definitely your day off. And besides, if he happened to have remembered your shifts, well, that was just a coincidence.

You swaned into Scoops with your usual confidence, a glint in your eye and a surprisingly bright sundress on your frame. You were still glittering with jewellery, chains and trinkets on your neck, delicate rings on each finger, tiny gold daisies hanging from your ears. Your dress was a startling red, cherry coloured and all the bare skin on show meant that Steve could see fine black lines of ink peeking out from beneath the cotton.

He smiled at the way you still wore your boots, laces undone and rolled socks peeking out the top. You had spent some time talking between shifts now, “accidentally” bumping into each other when the mall was still closed, early morning starts spent standing in line together for a coffee as Steve tried his damn hardest to remember how to speak in your presence.

It got a little easier and Steve could hold a conversation without his voice cracking, but every now and then he’d spot you already gazing at him and you had a look on your face that could take a man down to his knees.

And god, did you know how good you looked in that dress? Did you understand what you did to him? Steve thought that maybe you did because you were leaning over the counter on your elbows and invading all of his personal space with the smell of your perfume and cocoa butter body lotion.

You tapped out a beat with your fingernails, Ruby red to match your dress, hands dancing in gold, rings that Steve knew woild look so fucking pretty wrapped around his—

“Hey, pretty boy.”

The boy dropped his ice cream scoop and from an empty table behind you both, Robin snorted.

“Hey, hi… hi,” he settled on, ducking behind the counter to retrieve his scoop and he tried not to wince at how decidedly unsmooth he was around you.

He’d panicked to Robin more than enough times about it. How he managed to trip over his words, even his own feet, when he was around you. But, despite his friends usual teasing and unsupportive behaviour when it came to his dating like, she’d surprised him with:

“Well shit, Steve, she keeps coming back, doesn’t she?”

“Hi,” you repeated, grinning. “How’s it going?”

Steve smiled back, wider than he’d have liked, too happy, too pleased that you were here on your day off, in his store, standing talking to him whilst you looked like that.

The hem of your dress swung at your thighs as you tapped your foot to music only you could hear and you were looking up at him with the most wicked expression. Steve had realised you seemed to save those looks for only him, the rest of your time spent in the record store ignoring the boys who tried to chat you up with cheap lines and shit chat.

Steve sighed and looked around the empty store. “It’s going,” he replied. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you… off today?”

“Keeping tabs?” You grinned and Steve flushed.

It was your favourite thing.

“What? No, no I—” if Steve could get away with volleying a ball of raspberry ripple at Robin right then, he could’ve. She was hiding her face in the pile of delivery notes but he could hear her laughter. “I just— yeah, shit, maybe I am.”

His admission made you preen, straightening up to catch the ends of that stupid, little sailor scarf between your fingers. You lifted one brow, looked at the boy through your lashes and wondered if you listened carefully enough, would you be able to hear the thumpthumpthump of his heart.

Steve was almost certain you would.

“That’s cute,” you mused, sighing dramatically, wistful almost, as you tugged at the scarf. Steve jolted closer, lips parted, eyes hooded as he tried his best to keep his gaze on yours. But your lips were right there. And so were your tits. “It’s a real shame you don’t use that knowledge to work out when to take me out on a date.”

Even Robin stilled.

“A date?” Steve asked and you were so close, closer than you’d ever been ‘cause he could tell your lipgloss was cherry flavoured, he could smell the artificial sweetness, could count the freckles on your nose.

You nodded, smiled, let your eyes flicker down to where he was licking at his lips and you felt the way he sighed. He had a knuckle white grip on his side of the counter, arms flexed as he leaned in, letting you hold him as close to you as you dared.

“Y’know… dinner, maybe a movie, a hot little fumble in the backseat of your car before you kiss me goodnight and go home to take a cold shower?”

“Christ,” Steve breathed and you watched the way he flushed, eyes drooping prettily as he seemingly thought out your scenario. “Yeah— yeah, I can do that, fuck, we can do that.”

The grin that took over your face was more than pretty and Steve was about done for when you finally let go of his sailors scarf, only to reach up and brush back his hair again. He let you, eyes full of sticky fondness, a little awe as your fingertips brushed across the top of his forehead.

“Great,” you told him, backing away, boots scuffing across the parlour tiles. “You can pick me up at eight on Saturday.”

—————

Steve had never been so nervous on a date.

The good kind, an excitement he’d almost forgotten about and he revelled in the way his stomach tumbled, cheeks flush and lips bitten as he waited for you to appear from your front door.

You’d smiled at his shyness, ducked your head in a similar fashion when he told you how pretty you looked and then it was a night of feet touching under the diner table, stealing the crispy fries from his plate and Steve pretending that he cared.

He eventually calmed down enough to talk about everything and anything with you, his job, education, his parents, his friends. And when he’d finished making you laugh like it was his new hobby, you both realised too late that you’d missed the movie.

But you didn’t seem to care, happy to walk shoulder for shoulder with the boy through the emptying mall, watching him with a smile as he worked up enough courage to hold your hand.

You let him, hands tangling, a finger gently prodding his pink cheek and he swatted at you with a smile, a fond roll of his eyes and then that was it.

You didn’t leave his side after that.

The windows of his car were rolled down as he parked up near the water tower, wheat fields and the forest hiding you both from the rest of the down. The summer air smelled sweet, like leftover barbecue smoke and wet grass and Steve had the radio on low as you teased him about his music taste, the way he’d bitten his bottom lip raw from being so close to you.

He could take it better now, your little mean streak, the one that liked to push his buttons and turn him pink. He still flushed when you called him pretty boy, heard his breath hitch when you stretched your bare legs over his, back pressed to the passenger door as you let the wind pick at your hair.

But he got a little braver and let his hands smooth over your shins, eyes flickering from yours to the way your sundress was played messily across the tops of your thighs. Steve was a gentleman about it though, listened when you spoke, asked you questions and got to know you, making those eyes at you, even if he didn’t realise.

“Did you come in that day just to buy those records?”

Steve snorted, let his cheek turn and press against the headrest so he could look at you with those big brown eyes, wild hair that you ached to brush away.

“I don’t even have a record player anymore.”

Your laugh was a whole other type of song and it warmed Steve more than the summer night did.

“You don’t?” You grinned, nudging a foot into his thigh. “Steve Harrington, you’re a damn fool.”

“If you keep bein’ mean to me,” Steve grinned, voice full of tease and sticky sweet affection, “m’gonna fall in love with you, you know?”

And he did.

—————

You didn’t grudge Robin for the way she rolled her eyes at you upon seeing you walk into Scoops. You couldn’t. She knew, she knew that you knew. So you just smiled.

“Is Steve….?”

“In the back,” she groaned good naturedly. “You’re lucky we’re dead.”

You grinned, blew the girl a kiss and slipped through the staff only door. The door to the walk-in freezer hummed and music came from the break room, quiet and crackling with static from the old radio. You found the boy at the table, feet kicked up on a stool as he played with his empty bottle of soda.

Steve lit up when he saw you, an unexpected visit as you were on a late shift at your own store, the chances of you both getting lunch at the same time slim. But you’d bartered with your boss, promising that all of the new stock that had been delivered would get done before close. He’d rolled his eyes and grudgingly agreed, muttering about your new boyfriend and how he was affecting your work ethic.

You hadn’t used that word yet. ‘Boyfriend.’ And neither had Steve, but that was okay. You were enjoying that inbetween stage that came with uncertainty and butterflies, second guesses and kicking your feet in your bed at night when he dropped you off, each new kiss feeling like another first.

And you were still making the boy blush, the prettiest pink across his cheeks, stealing reasons to touch him whenever you could, playing with the ends of his hair as he spoke, pressing a hand to the skin under his shirt when you wanted his attention.

Which was a waste of time, if you asked Steve - you always had his attention, whether your hands were on him or not. Not that he ever complained.

In fact, he looked downright ecstatic when you dropped yourself in his lap, pleated skirt hitching up your thighs as you grinned down at him, pink cheeks, messy hair and sailor boy uniform to boot.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hello to you too, trouble,” he’d gotten better at that part, talking to you without falling over his own words, more flirt and confidence in his voice than the first time you’d met. “I didn’t think I was gonna see you until after work.”

“Sold my soul for you,” you pouted, lifting his little hat and placing it atop your own head. “Promised that a full delivery would be finished before close.”

Steve tried to pout back, but he couldn’t help but smile at how you bargained just to be able to come see him. The sailor hat was perched adorably on top of your head, a little squint and with a cherry ice cream stain on the side. His hands palmed at your hips, squeezing gently and you lifted a brow to gaze down at him questioningly.

“Robin already isn’t happy I’m back here distracting you,” you smiled, “don’t start something you can’t finish - or win.”

“Win?” Steve scoffed, “sweetheart give me a little cred-”

The boy’s words died in his throat as you stood only to swing a leg over his lap, straddling his thighs with your own, fishnet tights stretched over your skin. You brought your hand to his chin, caught it between finger and thumb and smoothed the pad of it over his bottom lip. You tugged a little meanly, let it fall back with a cute ‘pop’ and grinned at how he was already flushed for you, eyes a little glassy and unfocused, cheeks turning pink.

“You’re too easy, Steve,” you whispered, stretching your arms over his shoulders, fingers tugging through the messy curls at the nape of his neck. You leaned in as if to kiss him, turned before he could catch you and pressed your nose to his cheek instead, letting him feel your smile against his jaw before you mouthed at it.

“You smell so good,” you sighed, voice hitched a little higher than normal, a little breathier. “Could just eat you up.”

“You’re a demon,” Steve huffed, canting his hips up into yours, hands squeezing more tightly at your waist but he did nothing to stop you from tugging at his hair. He let his head fall back, exposing his throat to you and your mouth. “Baby.”

“Baby. Love when you call me that,” you cooed, planting a line of kisses along the column of his neck, nipping at his ear lobe as you pressed yourself against his chest. “Makes me feel so sweet.”

Steve groaned, barked out a laugh that ended in a hiss because you rocked yourself against him, grinding down and grinning. “Yeah? You’re anything but,” he lied.

“Mean,” you teased, bringing your mouth to hover over the boys, lips just grazing his. “You don’t think I’m sweet? That’s not what you said the other night.”

You were pouting, pushing your lips to Steve’s in a barely there kiss before pulling away, running a hand over the front of his hair, pushing it back so you could see the way his eyes glazed over at your words. He knew what you were referencing, of course he did. How could he forget?

“I distinctly remember you telling me that you thought I tasted real sweet in the back of your car,” you grinned, wicked, cupped the boy’s face and smoothed your thumbs over the high points of his cheekbones. “There is it,” you whispered.

A blush, pink and warm and rosy, just for you, even after Steve had spent countless times between you legs, lips sucking, mouth too busy to do anything but moan. He was pink even then. But this? Now?

“I think you’re the sweet one.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things

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behindthesoul · 5 months

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Masterlist

Requests are Open

Headcanons

Kung Lao Fluff HCs

Kung Lao + Liu Kang with hula hoop!reader

Kung Lao + Insomniac s/o

Johnny, Kung Lao, and Fujin with cosplayer!s/o

Fujin Fluff HCs

^ Old, Posted Before the Release of MK1 ^

Shang Tsung falling for Johnny’s half sibling

Smoke + princess!reader

General Shao + pregnant!reader

Syzoth, Liu Kang, Smoke, and Raiden reacting to Shang Tsung surrendering to be with his lover

Kenshi cuddling HCs

Parenting - Liu Kang, Syzoth, Shang Tsung, Bi-Han

Parenting pt2 - Rain, Havik, Quan Chi, Kenshi

Johnny Cage + Edenian royal!reader

MK characters at Thanksgiving

I’m Sorry - Johnny Cage, General Shao, Kung Lao

One Shots

Join Me

Quan Chi joins you in the bath.

The Rainy Night

Bi-Han dozes off and dreams about his childhood while his father lays there, dying.

Series

Forgotten Child - Shang Tsung

As Sindel’s forgotten child, no one noticed how the snake wrapped his way around your heart.

Constricting Bonds - Shang Tsung

In the shadowed tapestry of a world where love and darkness entwine, a soul finds itself captivated by the allure of a man steeped in shadows. You, a seeker of light, surrender your heart to a figure whose essence is shrouded in malevolence. As your love blossoms in the moonlit garden of forbidden desires, an impending storm brews on the horizon.

Or - you're upset your father says no to you dating.

#mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat fanfic #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat 1 fanfiction #mortal kombat fluff #mortal kombat masterlist #shang tsung x reader #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #syzoth x reader #bi han fanfic #bi han x reader #kenshi x reader #fujin mk x reader #Raiden mk x reader

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femmefatalevibe · 2 years

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How To Build A (Realistic) Femme Fatale Wardrobe: Daily Essentials To Harness Your Dark Feminine Energy

The goal is to feel sexy and sophisticated in well-fitting pieces that are appropriate for the time of day and occasion. Elegance is not embodied by a particular ensemble but by how well-suited it is for the event you're attending. Following proper etiquette involves taking context into account. Femme fatale dressing mixes classic, contemporary, and edgy pieces with a hint of glamour for some extra appeal.

Let's begin with the foundation: Choose pieces that strike a balance between sexy and streamlined. Matching lingerie always makes you feel hot and put together. Make sure its seamless, comfortable, and breathable.

A basic lace bra – in a black or skin-toned colorway (I prefer an underwire with some padding for the look and feel, but adjust for your cup size/comfort if needed).

Pair with a seamless, matching lace thong that can be worn under anything and should not show under your clothes.

For that time of the month, swap out the thong for seamless boyshorts with lace trim (for some much-needed sensuality when you're feeling a bit more sluggish to have some extra coverage).

Shapewear: A high-waisted thong, shorts, or a short bodysuit will likely be the most versatile option (my favorite brands are Commando and Heist). Use to streamline your silhouette (it's not necessarily about size or weight, just making sure your clothes lay properly over your curves).

Simple tops in sensual fabrics (Pima Cotton, Silk, Satin): Every woman needs some well-cut tank tops, t-shirts, and long-sleeve tees. Vary your wardrobe with a few body-conscious and few relaxed styles with each sleeve length. Scoop neck and crew neck options look more refined than v-necks and are more versatile for layering. Turtlenecks are a great option for the colder months and offer sensual appeal without showing any skin. Search for these staple tees in comfortable, luscious fabrics like Pima cotton and washable silk (Everlane has great, more affordable options. Try Lilysilk and Lunya if you want to invest a bit more into these basics).

Camis, Blouses, and Button-Downs: Black silks, satins, leather, coated fabrics, and a simple cotton option or two offer a nice variety for different climates and occasions. Invest in classic button-down options and experiment with wrap-front, turtleneck, halter necks, twist-front, shirred, and strappy details– depending on your personal aesthetic and preferences. Look for luxurious details, like gold or mother of pearl buttons to elevate your daily outfits.

Blazers, Leather Jackets, Trench & Tailored Wool Coats:

Sharp lines and luscious fabrics provide an irresistibly sophisticated allure that allows you to feel sexy and stay warm. Invest at least one of each and ensure they're well-tailored.

(Vegan) Leather, Silk, or Wool Blazer (In Black)

A Classic Moto Jacket

A Black Trench Coat (in cotton or vegan leather) for transitional weather

A Single or Double-Breasted Black Wool Coat (that hits at or right above the knee)

Well-Cut Trousers & A Few Perfect Pairs of Jeans: Go for classic wool trousers, black jeans, or leather pants in a straight or boot-cut silhouette that fits like a glove. Try structured yoga pants or ribbed/leather-trimmed options for lazy days.

Simple Skirts With An Elevated Twist: Try a leather mini skirt or a silk midi skirt to add a more feminine element to your look.

Slip Dress!! Try a black option with or without lace trim – pair it a leather jacket or some type of blazer over the top to keep it casual and classy for daily wear.

Essential Footwear:

Classic Black Loafer (Round or Square-Toe with Minimal Gold or No Hardware)

Black Lace-Up (Combat) Boots

Knee High/Over The Knee Black Boots (Flat Option)

Block Heel Square-Toe Boot (Vagabond has great options for every day – try Miista for slightly more elevated options)

Clean White Sneaker (for super casual days)

Accessories:

Chain-link Necklaces/Bracelets (Gold, Silver, or Mixed Metals)

Simple Hoops/Ear Cuffs

Classic Wrist Watch

A Structured Large Black Tote or Satchel Bag

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zeciex · 5 months

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A Vow of Blood - An uncanon one-shot

Aemond is entirely at Daenera's mercy.

Warnings: Smut, (p in v), over stimulation, multiple orgasms, anal (male receiving; Use proper lube guys), bondage, oral (male receiving).

“Do you really think I would let you have me when you can’t even admit you missed me?” Her voice was like a rasp against his senses, igniting his desire into a blaze mingled with frustration.

With a forceful push, she set him aside and stood up. “I want you to beg for it.”

Aemond scoffed, his gaze following her as she moved with a fluid grace towards the bedroom. Her fingers deftly worked the tie at her waist, smoothly drawing it through the hoops before allowing her robe to cascade to the floor in a whisper of fabric. The morning light filtered through the room, casting a soft glow that accentuated the alluring contours of her body beneath the sheer nightgown.

“Get on the bed,” she commanded, her voice laced with an authoritative edge that resonated in the space between them.

With a sense of urgency, Aemond rose to his feet, his erection noticeable, straining against his trousers painfully. He crossed the threshold of where her robe lay discarded, his movements marked by a blend of anticipation and caution. He began to shed his own clothes, peeling off his shirt and reaching to untie his trousers.

Before he could proceed further, she reiterated her command, her tone firmer this time. “Get on the bed.”

Defiance flickered within his chest as he watched Daenera approach, her movement a predatory stalk. She placed a firm hand on his chest, pressing him backward with a force that contrasted sharply with the playful, sensual smile curving her lips.

Despite the smoldering fire in her eyes, there was an element of teasing in her demeanor. Yielding to her push, Aemond found himself being guided down onto the bed, his back resting against the pillows at the headboard.

As she straddled him, the heat of her core brushed tantalizingly against the pronounced bulge in his trousers, eliciting an involuntary hitch in his breath. She leaned close, her lips hovering just out of reach, a teasing promise. When he leaned in to close the distance, she instead chose to trace a kiss down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin and the thrum of his pulse. He felt his heart drum rapidly within his chest, felt the throng of it throughout his body. Her hair brushed his skin, a soft contrast to the intensity of her lips. Each time he shifted, seeking friction, she moved with a calculated cruelty, evading his advances.

His hands instinctively clamped onto her thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, a low hum escaping him as her teeth playfully nibbled at his neck. She then took his hands, guiding them above his head, her kisses along his neck continuing their torturous dance.

Pulling back, Daenera looked down at him with a triumphant smirk. Aemond intended to lower his arms, to take control, but he suddenly found himself bound to the headboard, wrists wrapped in fine silk that held him firmly in place.

“Daenera–”

“I told you,” she interrupted, her thumb brushing against his lower lip, her own lips curled with mischief. “I want you to beg for me.”

“I’m not–” his protest was cut short as she sensually rolled her hips against him, the fabric of his trousers unbearably tight, bending him in a painful arch. His attempt to break free was in vain, his body straining against the silk ties, the sensation of her movement intensifying his need and frustration.

As she leaned into him, her lips left a trail of fervent kisses along his neck, her teeth delicately grazing his skin, causing Aemond to swallow in an attempt to maintain his composure. Her voice when she spoke, was a blend of seduction and command, low and enticing, designed to ensnare him in her will. “You will beg, or you will not have me at all.”

Then, in a fluid motion, she pulled away, leaving him bound to the bed with the soft restraint of silken knots. As she moved, her nightgown billowed around her, its sheer fabric revealing glimpses of her form beneath. The contours of her body were subtly accentuated–the gentle curve of her hips, the slender dip at her waist, the roundness of her ass–each detail eliciting an involuntary reaction from him, his cock twitching painfully in his trousers.

Turning back to face him, the outline of her stomach and the fullness of her breasts were softly highlighted under the gossamer garment, the delicate material acting as a tantalizing veil that offered hints yet concealed much.

She moved across the room with a graceful ease, picking up a pillow and positioning it at the footboard before settling against it. Her actions were deliberate, each one an attempt to break his resolve.

Aemond watched her with a narrowed gaze, a mix of anticipation and challenge in his eye. The slight, yet unmistakable smirk on her lips as she opened the box spoke volumes. He would bend, or he would break to her will entirely. Her hand reached in and pulled out an object that made his heart shutter in his chest. It was an item he had seen before, familiar from his brother’s chambers and one that caused an adverse reaction.

“He gave you another,” He sneered angrily.

“No, I procured this one myself,” Daenera answered. “I have not used it yet, but I thought you might like it.”

Aemond’s expression twisted into a scowl, watching her with a mix of frustration and desire as she looked back at him, her smile sweet and seemingly innocent, despite the wooden cock she held in her hands.

“If you won’t beg for me, then I suppose I’ll have to amuse myself,” she announced, her legs parting gracefully beneath the sheer fabric of her gown, just enough to veil her slick form. She slowly lifted her nightgown, revealing herself once more, and began to trace the wooden cock along her folds.

The wooden cock was neither particularly large nor wide, but its slight curve and the dark, fire-tempered wood that would resist moisture, and made it distinct. She ran it along her seam, her arousal glistening on its dark surface as she gently pressed it against her swollen clit, a breath of longing escaping her lips.

Aemond, visibly agitated, tugged at his restraints barking out a protest. “Don’t!”

Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “Why not?”

“Because my cock is the only one you should ever feel,” Aemond retorted sharply.

“That’s not true,” she countered with a quip. “I knew my husbands–”

“Your husband never satisfied you,” Aemond interrupted tersely, leaning forward in his restraints, only to wince as the movement twisted his shoulders uncomfortably.

“But mine,” he declared with a sneer, “will be the only one that ever truly satisfies you. I will not have you moaning for a wooden cock when you can have mine.”

Daenera fluidly moved across the mattress, her movements calculated and seductive as she positioned herself atop Aemond’s lap.

Aemond found himself struggling to maintain composure as her warmth pressed against the evident bulge in his trousers. He bit down on his tongue, holding back a moan. Her lips found his ear, the heat and softness of her breath sending shivers down his spine, inciting an involuntary buckling of his hips, seeking further contact.

In a tone laced with sweet suggestion, she whispered, “It would be such a waste not to explore every possibility…”

And Aemond could feel his control wavering. His eyelid fluttered shut as he bit his bottom lip, the proximity of her body, the weight of her seated so tantalizingly close, stirring a deep longing within him.

She continued, her voice carrying a sense of curiosity, “I’ve heard that men find unique pleasure in… certain explorations… That they might find pleasure in a thing like this.”

At this, Aemond’s head snapped back, his gaze locking onto hers. “Who told you this? Aegon?”

“I’ve encountered men who spoke of such experiences,” she explained, her voice a blend of honesty and intrigue. She leaned back slightly as she seemed to sense his apprehension, her eyes scanning his face for a reaction.

Aemond gritted his teeth at the thought of something like this reaching her ear. Who would have told her? And, bitterly, he wondered what her relationship was with them to even have a conversation about such a thing.

Daenera seemed to read this in his expression alone and continued, “The tapestries and the… erotic books the Maesters try to hide, has made me curious.”

He swallowed.

“If you find it displeasing, or wish to stop, I will respect that.” Her words were an invitation, a proposal to venture into something unexplored, something utterly depraved. The question hung in the air, charged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

“You want to use that on me?” Aemond’s voice was raspy with apprehension and held a thrum of surprise. He could feel his heartbeat pound in his ears, his body alight with a contradictory blend of heat and a prickling sensation, like needles on his skin. His arousal was undeniable, his cock aching, as he swallowed thickly, trying to cling to his composure by biting the inside of his cheek, struggling not to buck his hips against her.

He wanted her so badly, it was embarrassing.

Daenera nodded in confirmation. “I think it would be… exciting.”

Aemond couldn’t help but retort, unable to mask his doubt or what he thought of it, “It’s depraved.”

Daenera countered calmly, “No one will know. Do you trust me?”

That was the crux of it. The proposition challenged his very identity, his concepts of self and the boundaries he has always maintained. It went against his morals, the very act in itself depraved and utterly deplorable. But there was something in her gaze, her blue eyes searching his with understanding and confidence. Her fingers traced absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck, a touch that felt intimate and comforting, devoid of manipulation. Surrounded by her floral scent, feeling the warmth of her body seep into his—their fires seemed to merge in a way that was both unsettling and irresistible. Slowly, almost against his better judgment, Aemond found himself nodding.

Her reaction was immediate; her pupils dilated completely, engulfing the blue of her irises as a smile crept onto her face. She leaned in, her kiss was light and fleeting, as though they were rediscovering the sensation for the first time. Her hand moved from his neck down his chest, deftly working on the laces of his trousers.

Aemond, caught up in the moment, responded by deepening the kiss, his hunger for her overtaking his initial hesitation.

“You are a temptress,” he muttered as swallowed her moan.

Aemond’s response to her touch was instinctual and intense. As her hand wrapped around him, a deep, guttural moan escaped his lips. His hips reacted of their own accord, seeking more contact, but she maintained a teasing stillness as she continued to kiss him, driving him close to the brink of madness. Frustrated, Aemond broke the kiss, grinding his teeth as he drew in a breath in an effort to regain some semblance of pride.

Daenera acted with a deliberate slowness, her hands working to remove his trousers completely. Freed from the confines of the fabric, he was fully exposed, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen, the cool air contrasting starkly against his heated skin. His arousal was embarrassingly clear, a trail of his seed already marking his length.

Her touch was exploratory as her hands glided up his thighs, her fingers eliciting involuntary flexes of his muscles. She pressed a kiss to his stomach, her hair lightly brushing over his skin, the sensation almost too much for him to handle.

Bound by the silken restraints, Aemond found himself yearning to touch her, the desire to entangle his fingers in her hair growing increasingly potent. He clenched his jaw and closed his eye, battling the overwhelming sensations as she tantalizingly approached where he wanted her the most. The fleeting contact of her tongue, a mere tease against him, made his hips buck, his breath escaping in a ragged wheeze. He was teetering on the edge, his bride beginning to crumble under her touch.

“Agh, fuuuck,” he breathed out as she enveloped him within her mouth, her tongue skillfully working against him. The sound of the wood creaking under the strain of his pull against the silk restraints was a stark reminder of his helplessness, the bonds as unyielding as before, leaving him entirely at her mercy–a mercy she seemed not to possess.

As Daenera took him deeper, he felt the sensation of her throat around him before she slowly withdrew, leaving him aching for more. She brushed her hair aside, her gaze lifting to meet his, her eyes framed by fluttering lashes, her cheeks tinged with a blush. She allowed saliva to drip down onto him, adding to the intensity of the moment. Then, taking a finger into her mouth, she locked eyes with him.

The sight struck a chord within Aemond, igniting a fire that he hadn’t anticipated, leaving him both vulnerable and needy.

As Daenera’s tongue delicately traced the full length of his cock, Aemond could feel every twitch and pulse beneath her touch. Biting down on his bottom lip to contain his reactions, he was caught off guard when she sifted her attention to the base, planting a kiss there before gently taking one of his balls into her mouth. The sensation drew a sharp hiss from him, a visceral response to the overwhelming feel of her.

The feeling of warm saliva dripping onto his hole made him tense.

Daenera, sensing the discomfort, looked up at him with a gaze that was both alluring and powerful.

“Relax,” she whispered soothingly, her eyes holding his. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Aemond took a deep breath, consciously releasing the tension in his body. As he did, she returned her attention to him, her mouth wrapping around him again, her tongue dancing over the sensitive head, exploring every contour, teasing the slit.

Simultaneously, he felt the gentle pressure of her finger at his entrance, cautiously probing. The sensation was new, unexpected, but the focus of her mouth on him drew his mind away from any initial discomfort. He was too lost in the maddening brush of her tongue swirling around him. Gradually, her finger slipped inside, the movement synchronized with her slow, deliberate descent.

A deep, raspy moan tore from his throat as she set a rhythm, her head moving in sync with the careful in and out motion of her finger. When she added another, he felt a sudden jolt of a sensation, something intense and unfamiliar that wretched a strangled sound from deep within him.

“Ah, fuck,” Aemond rasped out, his mind swirling in the whirlpool of sensations. The combined stimulation of her mouth and her fingers, exploring a part of him he had never acknowledged, was overwhelming. “I–fuck Daenera… Please, ah, fuck–please.”

Humming softly, Daenera briefly lifted her lips from him, giving him a teasing smile that slipped beneath his skin to make his heart flutter within his chest. He felt as though he was on fire.

“Are you begging me?” She asked with a hint of playful triumph in her voice.

Aemond, caught in the throes of desire, scowled and admitted grudgingly, “Yes.”

Leaning in, she planted a gentle kiss on his collarbone, then raised her head to meet his gaze. “Tell me what you want.”

Hating how much he enjoyed himself and the vulnerability of his position, yet unable to resist, Aemond found himself complying, his voice laced with a desperate edge. “Faster, please,”

Daenera then turned her attention to the wooden phallus, moisturizing it with her mouth. Aemond watched her, a complex mix of emotion swirling within him–anticipation, excitement, and a touch of apprehension. Yet, as she sweetly lowered herself towards him again, any hesitation he had seemed to melt away. Her mouth enveloped him once more, while simultaneously, she guided the wooden cock past his entrance. The sensation was intense, a stretch that stole his breath and made his toes curl. His fists clenched tightly above him, his blunt nails digging into his palms, as he struggled not to lose himself.

The wooden cock filled him in a way he had never experienced, pressing against a spot that sent shocks of pleasure through him, making him choke on his breath, ragged and uneven. Whatever semblance of composure remained to him was now entirely lost as he felt his balls tighten and heat flood his body.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t–” he gasped, overwhelmed. His release came swiftly, his body reacting instinctively as he pushed further into her mouth, a choked sound escaping her. His head thudding against the headboard, his body trembling as he spilled himself down her throat.

Daenera chuckled lightly as she pulled away, wiping her lips, her eyes vaguely red and watery. “And here I thought you didn’t want to waste your seed anywhere that wasn’t my womb.”

Her fingers gripped his jaw firmly, pressing into his cheeks and forcing him to look at her as he breathed heavily, body alight and prickling. “I suppose the next one will make up for that.”

Daenera, in a fluid motion, released him and repositioned herself to straddle his hips. The contact of her wetness against his gradually softening cock elicited a sharp his from Aemond, the sensation intensifying as he clenched his teeth.

As she began to rhythmically move her hips, Aemond was plunged into a maelstrom of conflicting sensations. He devolved into sharp hisses and involuntary whimpers, each breath choked out of him as he tugged futilely at the restraints. Her movements were a tantalizing blend of agony and pleasure; the sting of his heightened sensitivity was met with a lingering thrill of pleasure. The way she slid over him, her folds caressing the length of his cock trapped between them, was both torment and bliss.

Helplessly, his hips bucked, a movement that jostled the wooden object inside of him, pressing it against a particularly sensitive spot. The sensation was overwhelming, sending his mind reeling.

“Oh fuck–I–it’s…Mmmh,” He whimpered and blustered, “Mmh, it’s too much—fuuuck”

Daenera’s grip was firm in his hair, compelling Aemond to meet her gaze as her other hand deftly grasped his renewed hardness, positioning him at the entrance of her heat.

In her eyes, there was a mischievous spark that ignited something unmistakable within him–a fiery surge that swept through his being. He was actively aware of every sensation, the blood pounding in his ears as she slowly enveloped just the tip of him, drawing a dry swallow from his throat.

“You can take it,” she whispered, her voice an echo of the many times he had uttered the very same to her. She lowered herself a bit more, enveloping the head of his cock, her wetness sliding along his length. “You, who ride the largest dragon in the world. You can take it.”

His response was a breathy moan as his mouth fell open, his mind adrift.

“Now it’s your turn to be ridden,” Daenera declared with an air of haughty assurance, her lips meeting his in a fervent, all-consuming kiss before prying away from him, leaving him with a lingering desire to taste her again. Her smirk was provocative as her words, “You can take it, ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes.”

My fierce dragon.

Then, she descended fully, taking him entirely into her embrace, her inner warmth clenching around him in a way her mouth could never provide.

Overwhelmed again, Aemond found himself surrendering completely, his long, drawn-out moan gradually devolving into a whimper. He spilled himself within her cunt, buried deep. His head remained pressed back against the headboard by her hand, otherwise he would have dropped it forward, burying his face in her neck. Every muscle in his body was tense as his hips thrust upwards into her. His breathing was rapid and uneven, sweat beading and trailing down his neck, glistening at his temples.

And then, she began to move, setting a rhythm that scattered any and all thoughts.

As Daenera continued her rhythmic movements, Aemond found himself engulfed in flames. Each rise and fall of her body upon him, each roll of her hips, compelled his cock to harden, igniting a torrent of raw sensations within him. She rode him with an intensity that stripped away his composure, leaving him with nothing but echoes of whimpers and moans, his body simultaneously alight with the tingling pleasure and the delicious, sharp pain. His mind was adrift, his movements meeting hers, each one intensifying the sensations evoked by the wooden cock within him, bringing tears to his eyes.

Feeling her lips against his throat, her whisper in his ear was both encouraging and intimate, “You’re doing so well, ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes.”

Seizing a fleeting moment of clarity, bolstered by her words, Aemond captured her lips, pouring all his remaining strength into each thrust, despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. The intensity was dizzying, soon rendering even the act of kissing her a challenge too great to bear.

Her hand moved between them, fingers circling her clit, her warmth pulsating around him, inviting to spill whatever remained within. Aemond was utterly at her mercy, capable only of feeble whimpers. As she tightened around him, he felt a painful clenching, releasing the remnants of his strength as she moaned sweet praises into his ear.

Amidst it all, he faintly registered the gentle touch of her fingers at the nape of his neck, their caress soothing against his fevered skin. That simple, tender gesture was enough to draw the last reserves from him, eliciting a moan that bordered on a cry, his head collapsing onto her shoulder in a final act of surrender as she gently comforted him through the aftershocks.

In the aftermath he hardly registered as she undid the silk knots and released his arms, his shoulders aching as they fell limply around him. Aemond lay spent, his body resonating with the rapid beat of his heart. It was as if everything else had faded away, leaving only the vital rhythm of his pulse and the comforting weight of her head resting gently against his, temple against temple. The simple, soothing contact was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of passion they had just experienced, providing a grounding point amidst the lingering echoes of their fervor.

In this moment, it was just the two of them, connected by the shared beat of a heart and the calming presence of one another.

I want ya'll to thank @kckt88 for inspiring me to write this. She is also the one who key pieces of dialogue! Which is just *chef's kiss* Including; "You can take it. You, who ride the largest dragon in the world. You can take it." & "Now it’s your turn to be ridden."

This was just a small one-shot for those of you who might want it. It is not canon to A Vow of Blood.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #hotd #aemond x reader #aemond smut

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 9 months

Text

Several Shots Later (Pro!Sero x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader)

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Pairing: Pro!Sero Hanta x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you go on a vacation in an effort to relax and feel more confident, but find yourself falling for the sexy stranger who sends you a drink across the room and also happens to give you some firsthand dance lessons and a night you’ll never forget.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged Up!Sero (he’s in his late 20s); Chubby!Reader; Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Marijuana/Alcohol Use; Sero Speaking Spanish; Petnames: (Baby, Mama, Mami); Skinny Dipping; Strangers to Lovers; Drunk Sex; Exhibitionism; Public Oral; Shotgunning; Dirty Talk; Daddy/Papi Kink; Rope Play; Spanking; Spitting; Facefucking; UNPROTECTED PIV Sex; Mild Choking; Mild Degradation; Cum on Body; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: HAPPY B-DAY WEEK TO MY FAVORITE LATIN KING SERO!! I typed this from his bed btw. Posting it early cuz this weekend, I'm gonna be soooo busy. Anyway, I had this idea after listening to "She's Hot" (the song above) & thinking about dancing to it with Sero cuz y'all know damn well he can MOVE. Enjoy! -Jazz

P.S. If my Spanish is trash or inaccurate, please PLEASE let me know! I used Google Translate lol

Read on AO3 here!

*********

He’s been staring at you all night, ever since you sat at the bar twenty minutes ago. If he continues to do so, you’re sure to soak the stool you’re sitting on.

You’ve never been stared at in such a way before––so brazenly and intimately. Though the lust is hidden beneath the surface of his charcoal eyes, you can tell that this isn’t all that is there. You’re used to being lusted after, but this feels different. More…romantic.

And all just from one look! You know you’re probably looking too deep into it though. After all, you haven’t even spoken to the man. But fuck, do you want to, ever since you caught a glimpse of him when you stepped into the resort’s nightclub twenty minutes before with your two friends and vacay buddies.

The man is the definition of “fine”.

Though he was sitting down when you first saw him, you’d place him at a good height over yours. He is all lean muscle, but not overly so, all of which you can see straining against his black polo shirt that he leaves unbuttoned to expose the sliver of chest and a gold chain underneath. His arms, which you’d love to feel wrapped around you, are roped in tattoos, his fingers adorned in rings and his wrist encased in a Rolex watch. The man must got money.

He sits back in his seat now, his shot of rum in his lap and his thighs open wide as if not aware that every woman (or man) could be staring at his crotch in those tight-ass jeans.

You’d never thought you’d ever see a man make a mullet look good either. He rocks it perfectly, several strands of black hair hanging in his alluring eyes that continue to stare you down, making you feel hot all over. His eyes sparkle just as his lip ring and silver hoops along his ears do, his long lashes making you think of a doll’s. He’s so, so beautiful.

You don’t know what he does, but judging by the watch and the Nike Air Forces on his feet, you’d guess he could be a singer. Maybe a business owner or CEO of some company? Maybe even a model? Regardless, he could have any woman in here just with one look and a smile. Why is he so entranced with you? What is it with you that he wants?

“Girl, you’ve been staring right back at him,” Mina chuckles from beside you. “If don’t hop on that man, I will ‘cause he’s fine.”

You side-eye her from your spot between her and Uraraka, watching her sip on her second cocktail of the night in her little pink mini-dress. “Why don’t you just go over and talk to him like a normal person?” she snickers.

You turn away from her and the beautiful stranger, staring down at your half-drunk Mojito. “You know I don’t make the first move,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how. Plus, I didn’t come here for a man. I came here to relax and find some confidence in myself.”

“That’s what a hot guy like him is for!” Mina argues, nodding at the stranger. Though you’re sure he has looked away from you by now, your body still burns as if he is still watching you, waiting for you. “No,” you protest. “That’s what the beach, the spa, and endless drinks are for. I’m not here for sex after the last time a hookup went wrong–which was only a month ago.”

You huff, stirring your drink around before sipping on it to calm your nerves and push those memories away. You came here to get away from all of that, after all. A month ago was the last straw when it came to dating and hooking up, especially with men online. You had been on Match for months but always seemed to run into men who either had a fetish for plus-sized women, and only that, or ghosted you as soon as they saw you outside of your pretty profile picture.

The last hookup you had seemed to break your spirit completely. You and the guy had been talking for a couple of weeks before he asked you out for dinner. Though you were excited, you felt that nabbing feeling in your gut that something would go wrong the moment he saw you in your dress, all of your rolls and jiggly parts on display.

But surprisingly, when you met with him at the restaurant, his smile didn’t even falter. He hugged you and kissed your cheek as if nothing was wrong. You even started to believe that this would be fine...until it wasn’t.

Until you invited him back to your apartment after one too many glasses of wine and got him out of his clothes. Until he stripped you, spread your legs wide eagle, and attempted to go down on you but didn’t. “I can’t do this,” he had sighed, already moving to grab his shit to hastily put back on. “Look, you’re pretty and all, and I thought I could handle you, but I can’t. You’re just too…big.”

To say you were hurt was an understatement. You said nothing to him as he profusely apologized; said it wasn’t your fault but just his preference; that he knew you’d find someone that would be attracted to you. If only he knew that this hasn’t been the case in years. If only he knew that most men only saw you as an object of their fetish and kinks; not their affection.

You weren’t asking for the fucking moon here. Just some love and affection. Just some intimacy. Just some good ol’ big dick. But you always seemed to lack in those departments because of your shape and size. There are times you wished you looked like your friends–so small and socially acceptable with their flat stomachs and breasts that didn’t sag. They could wear tight-skin dresses and crop tops without getting ridiculed or laughed at. You couldn’t.

This is why you took the offer for this trip to the beach resort on the coast of [Insert Country Name Here]. It was a short five-day trip that Mina and Uraraka had been planning to get away from your home in the US for a while and escape the sweltering heat.

When they offered you a spot and a ticket, you took that shit. You knew that this was your chance to finally gain the confidence you were missing and get away from the problems and men your city brought for a while. So far, it’s been working. Ever since you flew in this morning, you’ve been wearing all the bikinis and sundresses you want without getting side-eyed or gawked at. It feels damn good! But getting eyed down by that stranger feels even better.

“He was just a porn-addicted asshole,” Uraraka huffs, crossing her toned legs over each other in her pretty, flowery sundress. “He wasn’t worth your time. As much as I understand your reluctance, Y/N, you’re not behind a screen this time. You’re sitting here, looking sexy as fuck in your mini skirt, and he’s eyeing you down like he wants all of you.”

“She is right, babes,” Mina agrees. “The way that guy is staring at you is making me kinda jealous.” She smiles at the way you bashfully advert your eyes to stare down at your outfit. They forced you to put on the shimmery mini skirt that hugs your ass and the low-cut top that exposes your cleavage for tonight’s activities.

“What’s the point of being on vacation if you don’t indulge in hookups with hot people?” she giggles, sipping suggestively on her straw. You raise your brows at her, more than happy to correct her. “Vacations may be about that for you two, but I’m more about sleeping till the afternoon, lounging by the beach, and drinking my bottomless mimosas.”

Though the sexy stranger makes you think differently, you know that you’re never going to find the courage to get up and talk to him, no matter how much you drank or how sexy your friends said you looked. You wanted to get away from hookup culture and just find confidence on your own without looking for it in sex with a nice-looking guy. You just want to relax! But Mina and Uraraka aren't taking no for an answer.

Mina downs the rest of her drink before staring at you pointedly. “And that’s about to change tonight.” You gawk at her, laughing in disbelief at her stubbornness. “It’s only the first day!” you laugh.

“Exactly!” she agrees. “And we’ve got about five days left here at this resort. You know time flies extra fast while on vacation, girl.” She winks at you, encouraging you to go through with catching a body for the night. But you hum disapprovingly to yourself, stirring your straw around in your glass. “I don’t know, girls,” you sigh. “It just doesn’t seem right to use a guy just to boost my confidence and have a good time.”

Mina dramatically scoffs, rolling her golden eyes. “Please! You’ve got men in here who would gladly give their left lung to do all of that for you and more. Probably even that hottie with the mullet.” Though her words are encouraging, you still feel that roil of fear and uncertainty in your gut. What if he refuses you? What if he says yes but then changes his mind once he gets a look at you under your clothes?

Uraraka’s soft hand on your knee pulls you out of your head. “How can you know if you don’t at least try, Y/N?” she soothingly asks. “You deserve to have a good time, including getting some great sex if that’s what you want. And from the way you’ve been staring back at that stranger, we can tell it’s exactly what you want. So go on and get him!”

Mina places a hand on your shoulder, the smell of her fruity perfume overtaking your senses. “What happens on vacation stays on vacation,” she giggles.

And you realize that they’re absolutely right. You can never know what will happen if you don’t at least try. Plus, even if it goes wrong, there are plenty of other men at this resort you can try to snag, even if for the night or the remainder of this trip. You came here to not only relax, but to find confidence and let loose. Maybe you can do all of that in one night with a hot stranger with no strings attached.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling a boost of confidence in your body. “Lemme just finish this first.” You reach for your Mojito and down it, already feeling the effects of the alcohol in your body. You feel warm and tingly; sexy and powerful like you could take over the whole world. You’ve got this. You’re a sexy ass bitch.

Uraraka cheers you on when you slide out of your stool, pulling down your skirt over your stomach and thick, jiggly thighs as you do. “Go get him, girly!” Mina shouts encouragingly. “Let us know if you need us to push him into the pool.”

You giggle, feeling nervous yet excited. You can’t believe you’re really coming out of your comfort zone like this. But as you turn in the direction of the sexy stranger, you find his seat open and him gone. “Oh,” you breathe, disappointment blooming within you. “He’s gone.” Mina and Uraraka look around in disbelief. “Where’d he go?”

Uraraka huffs, her bob as she turns her head from side to side searching for the mystery man. “He was just right there!” Mina puts a comforting hand on your arm. “Well, don’t fret, babes. There are plenty of other fine-ass men in here who would gladly give you their undivided attention.” She begins to look around, squinting into the flashing lights on the dance floor despite your disinterest. “Let’s see…what about–“

“Excuse me,” someone says from behind you. You turn, finding the bartender holding another delicious-looking Mojito. “This is for you, miss. It was already paid for.” You and the girls stare at the drink in shock and suspicion. “Already paid for?” you parrot, baffled. “By who?”

“Well, it was supposed to be by your secret admirer, but I think I fucked that up comin’ over here.” A light chuckle leaves the lips of a man you already know is fine judging by his voice–it’s raspy and laced with a slight accent you can’t quite decipher; very pleasant to the ear. A real panty dropper.

When you and your friends turn, you swear to nearly drop dead right there in the club. There, standing behind you with a smile playing on his pierced, plump lips, is the hot stranger from across the room. And he’s even sexier up close! From this angle, you can see the ink on his chest peeking from out of his collar and how clean his nails are. Not to mention his scent––so sweet yet musky. It’s intoxicating. You and the girls stand there like idiots, silently drinking in the fine-ass stranger. “Oh, shit, he’s even finer up close,” Mina whispers to Uraraka, earning a shush in response.

The man smiles, two dimples popping on his cheeks. You love dimples. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he sheepishly says, and you catch a glint of something shiny in his mouth. A tongue piercing. ‘Oh, fuck me,’ you think. This man is trouble.

“I’m sorry if I am, but I couldn’t help myself. You just look too good tonight.” His charcoal eyes are planted firmly on you though you see them falter to trail down your form. You have to hold onto the stool behind you to avoid falling out. Your knees suddenly feel too weak to hold you up. “I thought the drink would’ve been a good icebreaker, but maybe that was kinda douchey,” he wonder aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. His bicep bulges as he does so, making you picture yourself running your fingers over it.

“U-Uh…” You desperately try to find the words to speak, not wanting to come off as a weirdo. But your mind is completely blank, all except for some naughty images of this man’s hands on you and his cock buried deep inside of you as he bends you over the bar. “No,” you reply, finding the words to finally speak. “It was sweet of you. Thank you…for the compliment too, not just the drink.” You cringe at yourself, realizing you’re babbling.

The stranger laughs lightly, the sound like sex to you. “I’m Sero,” he says in his sexy, raspy voice. “Sero Hanta.” He sticks his hand out for yours and you take it. As soon as your hands make contact, you feel an electric current soar through you as if you’re being shocked from the inside. His hand is big and calloused as if he’s been using them for years. You’re not sure if he feels the same zing that courses through you, but his eyes do trail to your mouth.

“I’m Y/N,” you timidly reply as your hands drop. “L/N. These are my friends; we’re on vacation.” You turn to your friends that you find leaving their posts, guilty smiles on their faces. “And we were just leaving,” Mina replies. “We’re just gonna go on the dance floor. Text us if you need anything!”

“Very nice to meet you!” Uraraka shouts with a wave before she and Mina hurry to the dance floor.

“Wait!” You hiss, but they’re already moving out of earshot. You watch them skid off to the dance floor with the sharpest glare you've ever given a person. If looks could kill, they would be dead. Now it’s just you and Sero the Sexy Stranger.

Though you’re not exactly alone, you may as well be the only two people standing in the room with how awkward and tense the air feels. Sero isn’t immune to it either. He stands rather rigidly, his arms behind his back and his eyes looking anywhere but at you in fear of making you feel uncomfortable. Knowing you can’t stand here all night, you clear your throat and pat the stool next to you. “Uh…did you wanna sit?” Sero shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “If you’re cool with it.”

You nod and slide into your own seat while he hops up next to you. “So you said you ladies are here on vacation?” he asks, giving you a friendly, warm smile that eases your nerves. You nod, lacing your fingers together to give them something to do. “Yeah, for five more days. We just flew in this morning all the way from the US.”

Sero’s charcoal eyes widen in shock. “The United States?” he gasps, making you giggle. “Shit, that’s a long way. Where are you from?”

You tell him, including the state. You may as well also tell him the capital and the population of your city with how much you’re babbling, but it’s hard to keep calm in the presence of such a sexy, sweet-smelling man. Sero is full of questions, his curiosity adorable. “What’s it like there? Is the food good? I heard they’ve got the best tour sights too!”

You tell him everything, from the food to the museums to the entertainment there for tourists along with the weather, your neighborhood, and how you’ve been living there ever since you were young. “I met my friends back during college,” you explain as you sip on the Mojito that Sero bought you. “We decided to take this trip to get out of the city for a while.” Sero nods, his attention firmly on you and only you. It makes you blush and you thank God that He made you a Black woman.

“Well, you ladies picked the best place for a vacay. I’ve been coming here for years ‘cause I’ve got family down here.” He waves a hand, flagging down the bartender. “Are you from here?” you curiously ask.

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nah; I was born in Musutafu, a city in Japan. My mother is Latina but my father is Japanese.” Your interest in him piques here as you have a big soft spot for mixed men. “So are you bilingual?” you giggle. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve been trying to learn Japanese forever ever since I started watching anime.”

Sero turns to face you, one muscled arm slung across the bar. “You’re an anime fan, huh?” he asks, interest and the flashing strobe lights in his black eyes which you now realize aren't charcoal at all––they’re a very dark brown, almost like dark chocolate. “What’s your favorite? And if you say Naruto, I’m leaving.”

“What’s wrong with Naruto?” you laugh, gaping at him.

“Everyone says Naruto!” he complains, rolling his eyes dramatically. “If not DBZ! Those are the two anime shows that reached the mainstream and everyone knows about.” You decide to leave your obsession with Naruto in middle school on the back burner for now.

“Well, I’ll give you my top five,” you giggle. You give him each one, most of them being very underrated and less popular than other anime. Sero looks impressed when you finish. “Daaamn, girl!” he praises. “You’ve got taste! I didn’t think anyone knew about your fifth pick. It’s more of an underrated one.” You nod, agreeing. “Yeah, but I’m into mystery. The twists and turns make each episode so fun to watch.”

He nods in agreement, a strange smile on his face. Though it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, it also feels…weird. You’re not used to being smiled at in such a way, like what you’re saying is so interesting and intriguing. You turn away to sip your drink, hoping more alcohol will make you feel less weird and take you out of your head.

The bartender suddenly returns to your side with a tray of multi-colored shot glasses and tiny bowls of salt, lemon, and lime on the side. “Here you are, Mr. Hanta,” he says. "On the house.” Sero gives him a look as he lowers the tray in front of him. “I keep tellin’ you to just call me Sero,” he sighs, pulling out a twenty to tip the bartender. “I ain’t my dad.”

When the bartender scurries off with the bill, Sero fills you in on why he got the order of rounds: “They give me free shit every time I come in here but I still tip ‘em well. Probably because I know the owner. He’s a good friend of my dad’s.” He takes one of the shot glasses and downs the contents inside with ease, not even sucking on a lemon or lime slice as a chaser. You don’t realize that you’re staring at him until he raises a questionable brow at you. “Want one?” he asks. Flushing with embarrassment, you shake your head. “You sure? They’re rum shots. Some are just plain, some are apple, and some are coconut.”

Your eyes flick from him to the shots, slowly becoming seduced by the different flavors and the idea of letting even looser. “Just one,” you say, giving in to defeat.

Sero passes you a shot before picking up another one of his own, giving you a white-toothed smile. “To an amazing vacation,” he says, raising his shot. You do the same and clink your glass with his before downing your rum at the same time he does. Though you taste the hint of apple, the rum is incredibly strong and nearly burns your tonsils. You gag as he goes down, making Sero laugh behind his hand. “Don’t laugh!” you pout. “This shit is stronger than the stuff you find in the US.”

Sero snickers as you take a lemon slice and vigorously suck on it, chasing away the strong taste of the rum. “Yeah, I bet,” he chuckles, nodding at the shots. “This is straight rum, mama. Definitely not to be played with. Lemme order you some water.”

He leans over the bar, raising his muscular arm, and you don’t know if it’s you or the alcohol starting to speak, but his arm looks very appealing to you right now. You picture wrapped around your waist or your tummy, maybe on your side while his cock is plunging in and out of the wet, gummy walls of your pussy over and over again, his sweet, raspy voice whispering in your ear.

You blink, alarmed. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ you think. The alcohol is definitely talking now. You have to try to act as normal as possible and not like you’re a horny mess when the bartender returns with a glass of cool water.

But you don't touch the water. Instead, you go for another shot, determination flooding within you that is only conjured by the alcohol. “You wanna try again?” Sero snickers. “Be my guest. It always goes down better the second time around. Don’t drink it too fast, now.” He keeps his intense eyes on you as you down your next shot. He’s right: it does go down a lot easier. While you feel the burn as he slides down your throat, it settles into your tummy nicely, making you feel warm and tingly.

Sero downs his third shot of the night, as do you. Soon, the room is starting to get hotter and seems a little fuzzier than before. The music is sharper, Sero seems a lot sexier, and you’re having trouble focusing. You know that you are only another shot away from drunk, so you decide to take a couple of sips of your water. Unfortunately, your being tipsy means that you have zero filter. “Uh…so what do you do?” you randomly ask Sero. “Like, for work?”

Sero stares at you, perplexed, his pink, pierced lips wrapped around a straw to his glass of water. You flush with embarrassment and go to apologize for being too personal, but his smile eases your nerves. “Relax,” he chuckles. “It ain’t like you asked me what my social security is.” You return the smile, becoming accustomed to his humor and laid-back attitude. “I’m a house renovator, so I fix up houses for people to rent, buy, or put on the market. I’ve got my own business back in Japan. I’m also a dance instructor on the side.”

Your ears perk at his hustle. So he’s got money and he can dance? “So you’re extremely talented, basically.” It could be the trick of the lights, but you think you see Sero’s cheeks grow pink. “I try. What about you?” You tell him your job along with what you do all day while working at it five days a week. His handsome face scrunches in pain. “That’s a great job, but it sounds time-consuming. You ever get bored or have time for yourself?”

You discard your water and sip on the rest of your Mojito, nearly forgetting it was there. “Time for myself is what the weekends are for,” you joke. “But in all seriousness, some of the time I get tired of it. That’s why my friends and I booked this trip as a way to relax and boost my confidence.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. 'Fuck!’ you think, panicking. Goddamn, the alcohol! Why does it have to make your tongue so loose and you so dumb?

Sero’s eyes flash with interest. “Boost your confidence?” he asks, quirking a brow at you that makes him look increasingly hotter. “How so?” He leans in as if to kiss you, a secretive smile curling onto his lips. You avert your eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in them. You hope he doesn’t push this. You couldn’t bear the thought of telling a stranger all about your problems with your body and dating.

“I’m kidding,” he finally says, probably noticing your change in demeanor. “You don’t have to tell me, but you could’ve fooled me ‘cause the outfit is certainly doin’ its job.” His eyes trail across your form in your outfit, making your body feel like it just got stuck in an oven. “Does that confidence-boosting also include dancing like your friends are?” he asks, nodding at the dance floor. There, you see Mina and Uraraka on the floor, twirling their hips and sipping on their drinks, carefree and beautiful.

You don’t think you could be that carefree with so many eyes on you. It’s different in the comfort of your own home, but here? It’s just too harrowing of an idea. “I-I don’t dance,” you timidly admit to Sero. “Not ‘cause I can’t, but I just…don’t.”

Sero scowls confusedly at you, his brows furrowing. “Why?” he asks, sounding absolutely baffled. “When the music is this good, it’s just too good to not move! You know how to salsa? Or bachata?” You stare at him, gobsmacked. This man can really move like that? “You teach all of that?” you ask, suddenly even hotter knowing this. You can only imagine how his hips can move in bed.

Sero smirks proudly. “Damn right,” he chuckles. “And I’m gonna teach you. You’ve got the best in the business, baby.” He takes his hand in yours and helps you down off of your stool. But before he can lead to you the dance floor, you pull him back. “Wait!” you protest. He peers over his shoulder at you and you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. “I-I don’t know if I’ve got dancing shoes.”

The sexy stranger turns around to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Really?” he asks. “That’s the best you’ve got?” You stare down at your shoes, even more apprehensive. It’s bad enough that you’re afraid of how you’ll look, but you’ve never had a man ask you to dance with him on the floor before. You’ve never had a man pursue you in such a way. You’re not sure how to handle it or what you’re even doing.

You’re aware of Sero getting closer to you until all you see is his chest in your face. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his cologne fogging your senses and self-control. “If you’re worried about what you look like, don’t. You’ve got people in here who dance worse and if you step on my toes, I’ll just act like it didn’t happen.”

At this, you smile though hesitantly. “There’s that smile,” he coos, interlacing his fingers with yours. “C’mon, before the song ends.”

The song playing now is one you recognize from TikTok from the Spanish guitars and Latin beat pumping through the speakers that you’d roll your hips into a mirror to. The strobe lights have now brightened to a seductive red that makes the dance floor look like it’s on fire. Sero leads you to a space on the dance floor between the grinding club-goers and stands in front of you, his height blocking the others dancing behind him.

You rigidly stand with his hand in yours a good distance away from him. You can already feel yourself wanting to run. The confidence that the alcohol provided you is starting to fade. All you want to do now is go back to your hotel room and go to sleep. ‘No,’ you think stubbornly. ‘You’re not doing that. You came here to find confidence and this man is trying to help you with that.’

Sero smirks jokingly at you. Unaware to you, he thinks your shyness is the cutest thing in the world. He’d fuck you right here in front of the whole club if he could. “You’ve gotta stand a little closer than that,” he chuckles. With some hesitation, you move an inch closer to him, barely toe to toe with him.

“Closer,” he teasingly repeats. Maybe it's the guitars in the song or the intensity of his gaze on you, but you find yourself moving closer to him like a moth being beckoned by a flame. Suddenly, you’re close enough to kiss him, your nose nearly brushing his chest.

“Perfecto,” he whispers, and it has your heart racing like it’s trying to win a track race. “Now you put one hand on my shoulder.” Keeping one of your hands interlocked with his, you raise your free hand and place it on his broad shoulder.

Then his hands are on your hips, secure and…nice. This feels nice. “Is it okay if I hold you like this?” he asks, his lips at your ear. You can barely speak––your throat is dry and your mind has gone completely blank. “Give me your words, mami,” he demands though not aggressively. The pet name, along with his accent curling around the almost-forbidden word, has you blushing profusely and thanking the Lord that He made you a Black woman.

Sero tenses as soon as the word flies, pulling away to apologize face to face. “Sorry,” he says embarrassingly, a blush coating his cheeks. “No,” you protest, shaking your head. “I-I like it. And it’s fine…you holding me like this, that is.” A beaming smile crosses his lips; one that makes you smile too and seems to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

“Now just follow me,” he instructs you. “When my foot goes back, yours goes forward, like this.” He puts one foot back and you timidly bring yours forward. “Now vice versa,” he says before bringing his foot back to the front. You pick up on things quickly and press your foot back. “Good!” he praises you. “Now let’s try it with the music. It goes 1, 2, 3…1, 2, 3…just like the beat. Listen to the beat.”

You do as he says and listen to the music, trying to match your foot movement with the rhythm. Sero is a natural at this, as he should be since it’s his side hustle. He moves like he is the damn music, his body turning into water. His moves are loose and languid but not out-of-beat or uncontrolled. His back is straight, his shoulders are squared, and his hips? They roll like fucking waves.

You find yourself wanting to touch them; roll your tongue against them and the washboard abs you know are just up under his shirt. He never lets you go as you attempt to copy his moves and his confidence. And yes, you step on his feet a few times, but he never loses that patient, kind smile. Soon, you start to feel more comfortable and your moves grow looser than before.

Sero feels your body relax and his eyes gleam with excitement. “There we go!” he laughs. “And you said you were worried about havin’ the wrong shoes. You’re a natural at this.” He twirls you twice, making you giddy and dizzy with joy. You are hot and sweaty, and your makeup has probably seen better days, but you don’t care. You feel good, all because of the man you're dancing with tonight.

Suddenly, a newfound confidence blooms inside of you that could either be from the alcohol or from the closeness of this fine-ass man. One that has your hand moving from his shoulder to his chest, just briefly caressing it. “I guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you say in a tone that you’ve never heard come out of your mouth before. It is low and sensual.

Sero notices it immediately. His kind smile turns into one that is more secretive like he is hiding something you don’t know about. He twirls you once more, causing your braids to fly around you and a laugh to burst from your mouth. Then he’s yanking you to him, emitting a surprised gasp from your lips when you find yourself chest-to-chest with him. One of his big hands moves to caress your lower back while the other still holds yours. He stares deep into your eyes as he begins to move his hips against yours, rolling and grinding his body into your own.

Suddenly, like a cliche romance trope, everyone disappears and all that is left are you and him. You only see him. You only know him. From somewhere on the floor, Mina and Uraraka shriek, hyping you up. “Yaaaasss, Y/N!” Mina screeches, much louder than Uraraka and the music. “Get it, girl!”

Before you even realize it, you’re grinding right back onto him, rolling your hips into his. He twirls you around once more, but doesn’t allow you to face him again. Instead, he presses his front against your back and grinds against you from there. His hands grip your hips, coaxing you to wind your ass back into him. You get lost in the music and in him, feeling safe in his arms despite only knowing him for an hour or so.

“You’ve got it,” he laughs into your ear, making your inner thighs tingle. “You were so scared to do this, and now look at you. I bet every man in here is jealous that I get to be the one to dance with such a pretty thing like you.”

Those words are what do it for you, and before you even realize it, you're looping your arms around his neck to bring him closer and turning your face to kiss him. It is a quick kiss, but it’s enough to have your heart hammering even faster and your stomach twirling. When you pull away, Sero's eyes are wide, a shocked expression on his face.

You immediately jump away and cover your mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry!” you immediately apologize. “I-I don’t know why I…” You trail off, suddenly feeling disgusting and awful. Your confidence is gone and the effects of the alcohol are waning. "I should go,” you whisper, on the verge of tears.

But as you turn to storm off the dance floor, Sero stops you by grabbing your wrist. “No,” he says, a silent plea in his eyes. “Don’t go.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, one of his arms is looping around your waist while his hand gently cups your cheek. His lips are then on yours, planting one of the softest, hottest kisses you’ve ever had on you. His lips are smooth and soft, his piercings tickling your bottom lip. Your lips dance against his until you give a soft moan of longing as your arms move to wrap around him, hugging him close. Your parted lips allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of rum and mint there as his tongue gently swirls with yours. You hold each other, kissing among the sea of people. Once again, you feel as if there is no one but you, him, and the throbbing of the music above.

Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted when the club-goers surrounding you begin to annoyingly scream and whoop over you and Sero. “Oh, shit, they 'bout to fuck on the floor!” someone obnoxiously screams over the music.

Sero pulls away from you, eyeing the faceless voice. “Let me join!” another shouts.

“Fuck off!” Mina yells from somewhere behind you. “Leave them alone!” You’ve never been so thankful for your friends than at this moment.

Sero smirks down at you, arms still around your waist. “We’ve got ourselves an audience,” he whispers. “Not that I mind some eyes, but I’m more interested in getting you somewhere more…private.”

His accent makes the word sound like sex to you. Even if that isn’t on the table, you’ll still go anywhere with him. “Where’d you have in mind?” you breathlessly ask.

He trails his fingers from your waist up your arms to lace through your fingers. “Well, if you want the bedroom now, I’m down for that,” he says, making your pussy quiver excitedly beneath your skirt, “but there’s also a cabana on the beach that’s screaming my name right now if you wanted a good view and some quiet.”

‘Yes!’ your body screams. ‘Do it, bitch!’ But even you know that you can’t give it up to him that fast. All good things come to those who wait, after all. “I’d love that,” you shyly answer. “Can we finish the shots first though?”

You nod at the bar to which Sero chuckles, raising a brow at you. “If you’re dying to get beat by me at my own game, then sure.”

*********

The sea is by far the most especially thing you’ve ever seen. It looks even better while drunk.

After downing two more shots and guzzling down water (and taking a trip to the bathroom beforehand), Sero swoops you away to the seashore right outside the resort where the ocean stretches out for your eyes to behold under the big, white moon that looks so much bigger in the sky tonight. It hovers over the water, making the waves crystalize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky do.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, in awe at the beauty laid before you. “This is beautiful! Look at the moon and the stars!”

You stand at the top of the sandy shore, pointing at the sky with your heels in your hands. The sea breeze wafts your hair and cools the sweat on your body from the club. You feel good away from the people and activity now, the serenity that the beach provides is too nice to put off.

Sero is settled down beside you in one of the many cabanas lined up on the beach that are currently empty. He sits on the bed there with his shoes off and an almost-dazed look on his face as he stares at the ocean. “Look at the stars,” he softly sings. “Look how they shine for you…” His cheeks turn red as he stares up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a little drunk.”

“Me too,” you giggle. “I need to sit down.” You put a hand to your head, feeling light and slightly dizzy from the alcohol. Sero pats the empty seat next to him, smiling up at you. “Feel free, mama. This cabana is open for two.” You flush with heat despite the coolness of the salty, sea breeze as you sit beside him, feeling flustered at being so close to him. Now you don’t have the shots or the music as buffers. There is nothing but the sea and the empty beach.

However, the silence isn’t awkward––it��s rather peaceful and serene. You dig your toes into the sand while Sero hums to himself, digging into his pocket. He then pulls out a ziplock bag of a few pre-rolled blunts and a lighter. “Mind if I smoke?” he asks, pausing to look at you for an answer. You shake your head, giving him the green light to do his thing. You watch as he works, entranced by his veiny hands as he takes out a blunt and ignites the lighter to lit the tip of it.

You wish his hands were working you instead.

Still entranced by him, you watch as he wraps his lips around the blunt and takes a short tester puff before putting the lighter away. He takes a deep inhale before exhaling all of the smoke out of his mouth, a peaceful look on his face. “I love doing this on the beach,” he contently sighs. “Nothing like a view of the stars and saltwater breeze while you puff on a blunt.” He gazes at you out of the corner of his eye. “And sitting with a pretty woman.”

“Whatever,” you tsk, gently smacking his thigh to hide the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’re just sayin’ that to make me feel good.” He takes another hit of his blunt, though short. “Well, yeah,” he admits, "but also ‘cause it’s true. You are pretty. Did you see the way the security guard was checkin’ you out when we left?”

You retrace your mental steps to try to remember, but come up short. “Uh…no,” you respond, not sure if you believe him. He laughs at this, smoke billowing from his mouth. “Exactly, ‘cause you were oblivious to it, but not me. You had eyes on you like bees on honey.” He then holds the blunt between his thumb and forefinger out to you. “Want a hit? You smoke?” You look down at the blunt, slightly intimidated. Then, for some reason, the thrill of trying something new floods you. “Not really,” you admit. "But there’s a first time for everything.”

You take the blunt between your thumb and forefinger before trying to imitate Sero’s actions. You wrap your lips around the end of the blunt and inhale only to nearly hack up a lung when the smoke invades your lungs. Sero laughs at you while patting you on the back, helping you out. “Take it easy, mama,” he chuckles. “Second time’s the charm as I say. Do it slower.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke much slower than before. It goes down easier the second time and you’re even able to hold it in your lungs for longer before exhaling. “Theeeere we go,” Sero praises with a laugh. “I love a girl who doesn’t quit.”

He lets you puff on the blunt for a few minutes longer, gazing out at the starry sky and sea. He then glances at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Please tell me if this is too personal, but I’m curious about you coming here to boost your confidence. I’d think a woman as beautiful as you are would have plenty of confidence in herself.”

You can already feel the weed beginning to work its magic. You feel relaxed and kind of sleepy, but not enough to pass out. All of the insecurities and uncertainty you felt before have washed away. You pass Sero the blunt and sit back on your hands, exposing your jiggly tummy a little more. “Well, the reason I’m here is after a hookup gone wrong where this dude told me I was too fat and left in the middle of sex with me. I was gutted by it, so when my girls told me about their trip, I took that chance and came here.”

You inhale the sea breeze and exhale solemnly, catching Sero’s attention…not that you didn’t have it already. “Finding love when you look like me,” you confess, running a hand over your body. “Like the dating pool isn’t built for girls like me. I’ve tried dating so many times, online manly, but as soon as a guy gets a view of me from the waist down, they want nothing to do with me. If I’m not seen as some extra pushin’ for the cushion, I’m not seen at all.”

You’re aware that you’re oversharing, but the alcohol, weed, and Sero’s warm personality have all made it where you’re like an open book now. “Not that I mind being perceived sexually,” you reiterate, “but I feel like that’s all guys see when they look at me. I’m a fetish; not a woman who is worthy of affection as well as desire. I deserve better, y’know? I’ve got a good job, a car, an apartment, a pretty face…like everything I have should be worthy to get me a good partner, right? But it’s not. All because of…of…this.”

You grip the jiggly fat of your stomach, huffing frustratedly to yourself. “I don’t hate being in my body, but society does.” Instantly, like a slap in the face, you realize you’ve fucked up. “Sorry!” you immediately gasp. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I said way too much.”

Sero is staring at you like he just realized you’re a person and you feel even worse. “Look, I don’t mean to pile this all on you, but you’re so easy to talk to and this weed is gettin’ to me and–“ You abruptly stop when Sero suddenly stands. He takes another puff on his blunt before dropping it into the sand and stubbing it out with his foot.

He then proceeds to kick off his shoes and socks, strip himself of his shirt to reveal his beautiful body, and reach for his belt to loosen his pants. When his pants fall, you can’t help but admire how good he looks in his briefs. You stare at him, confused, hot, and bothered by the gorgeous view. “What are you doing?” you softly ask.

“Let’s take a dip,” he says huskily. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is he serious, drunk, or just high as a kite? “But…I don’t have a bathing suit.” Sero raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who said anything about that?” Now you know that this man is gone. There’s no way he is seriously considering skinny-dipping…and there’s no way that you’re actually thinking about it! He must see you fighting with yourself because he runs a comforting, soft hand down your arm, his touch making you shiver. “I’d like to see you,” he murmurs, “if that’s okay.”

You search his face to see if he’s joking or daring you only to laugh at you when you do so, but you find no indication that he’s playing with you. There is a molten tenderness in his gaze that has you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he has in store for you.

So you strip. You start with your top and then your skirt, biting your lip at his sharp intake of breath at the sight of your underwear. Then you’re stripping off your bra, letting your full breasts fall from the cups and against your stomach. Sero’s eyes widen at the sight of you as if you are a piece of art he is admiring in a museum. “Hermosa (beautiful),” he whispers, completely in awe at your body.

You’ve taken enough Spanish in school to know what this word means and it lights your body on fire. He then offers his hand which you take, giggling when he pulls you along to the ocean. “Come on,” he laughs. “Vamos, before the water gets too cold!”

You want to ask him what the fuck he means because the water is like you stepped into the damn Arctic Ocean when your semi-naked body finally makes contact with it. You gasp as the water shocks your body out of its tired state from the alcohol and weed. Sero keeps his hand in yours despite the crashing waves that roll against your bodies the further you wad into the ocean. Finally, you two settle and just let the water caress you. You sigh in contentment as you tip your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above.

“Nice, right?” Sero chuckles. You lazily nod, wanting to stay here forever––among the water, stars, and him. You don’t realize how close he’s gotten to you until you’re suddenly staring at his upper torso and the water beads that drip down his abs. “Can I hold you?” he gently asks. You peer up at him through your lashes, afraid to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

You nod and he slowly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in them. You let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head meets the crook of his shoulder. You embrace him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. There, you two stay, bobbing in the water, linked with one another. “This feels so nice,” you drunkenly confess. “Like a fairytale.”

“I’d hope so,” he murmurs to you. “You deserve it, mami.” And you start to believe it. After a few silent seconds, he pulls away from you, his eyes as dark as the night sky. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his gaze hopeful. “I know I didn’t ask in the club and I feel bad about that, so I wanted to ask you now and–“

You don’t hear the rest of what he has to say because you’re too busy planting your lips on his. This kiss is hungrier now. Your lips move against each other’s like you both are starving for one another. You can tell Sero wants the same thing you want when his hands move below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth. He replies with his own moan and pulls away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

He wordlessly kneels before you in the water and takes both of your breasts into his hands, kneading them gently. “Shit,” he softly hisses to himself, amazed at the sight of your hanging fruit and brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimper at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts causing him to move on to other matters. He leans in and latches his lips onto one of your nipples where he begins to suckle on it. You throw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fall from your lips. You can’t yourself, especially when Sero begins to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switches, giving your other breast the same treatment. Your hands find his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the black locks of his hair. You’re ruining his mullet, but he doesn’t seem to care. He is more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice chokes on a broken moan.

You can’t take this. All of this is going straight to your pussy which is now throbbing and begging for attention between your thick inner thighs. “Please, Sero!” you whine, gripping his hair. “I need you to touch me.” Understanding immediately, Sero stares up at you, looking uncertain. He then stands, his body dripping in water, making your pussy throb even more at the sight of his glistening muscles. “You sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and hushed.

You practically throw yourself at him, giving him a deep, passionate kiss that nearly takes his breath away. “Yes,” you plead. “Yes, Sero, please. I don’t care, just please touch me.”

You grapple for his shoulders, gripping them in desperation. You don't care how much you come off as desperate or slutty to be sleeping with a man you just met. You need this right now. And Sero is willing to give it all to you. “Okay, baby, okay,” he shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to your waiting lips. “Let’s get us out of the water first.” He takes your hand and helps you navigate the waves as you make your way out of the water. Once you’re out and standing naked on the shore, you realize the gravity of what you just asked and initiated. Especially when Sero leads you to the cabana. Your eyes flit up to the resort yards away, realizing anyone could come out and see you two naked. “Will anyone see us?” you timidly ask.

“They may, they may not,” Sero replies, a devious smirk on his face. “If they do, they’re in for a treat watchin’ a gorgeous woman gettin’ her pussy eaten.” He then sits you down on the bed and kneels down in front of you. He gently pries your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet pussy. You watch his face change from playful to downright feral as he stares at your cunt. You flush at his expression, still feeling weird about this despite how hot and bothered you are. “But what if–“

He shushes you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs. “No more talkin’, mami,” he growls against your inner thighs. “I want my name on your lips if not those pretty moans I heard in the water earlier.” He continues to pepper your thighs in kisses while his hands pin your legs apart, his hold on you firm. He doesn’t want you hiding from him despite your cellulite and stretch marks, and rolls and imperfections. And it feels good.

You don’t stop him when he dives right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he’s making out with them. You can’t believe the way this man works his mouth! Especially when he starts to flick his tongue along your clit. His tongue swirls around it and flicks it gently depending on how you respond. And shit, are you responding well! Your body can't help but react pleasantly to the sensations––your toes curl; your back arches; your eyes flutter closed; your mouth falls open into an O as moans and gasps fall from your lips.

Sero is not only good with his tongue, but also with his hands. He reaches up and plays with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues. “H-Harder, please!” you beg to which he pinches the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the bursts of pain making you gush all over his lips. “Fuck, Sero,” you moan. “That feels so good!”

Sero moans approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably. “Keep feelin’ good for me then, mami,” he says in between wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. “Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head. I can handle it.”

He pauses to stare up into your shocked eyes, a grin on his face and a pussy-drunk look in his eyes. You’ve never had anyone ask that of you before. Plus, your thighs really are on the thicker side. What if you suffocate him? Before you can even agree or refuse, he is already pushing you back onto the bed, emitting a squeal from you.

He stands on his knees for a moment, taking you in. His lust-blown eyes trail up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you that you either like or dislike. Then he inhales deeply as if struggling to process the beauty in front of him. “Tu cuerpo es un país de las maravillas, mami (your body is a wonderland, mami),” he huskily says. You have no idea what to say to that. All you can do is shyly smile up at him as he smiles down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he’s ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head. This gives him better access to your pussy so he can easily tongue-fuck you. As soon as you feel the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit, you are in heaven. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands find his hair, gripping the black locks as your hips begin to grind shamelessly into his face.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums approvingly, keeping up the pace. He doesn’t pause or slow down. He continues to work your pussy just how you want, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It doesn’t take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you. You can’t help it. His tongue just feels too good! Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risqué position turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sero must realize you’re close because his jaw starts to move faster, accompanying his tonguefucking with porn-worthy moans of his own that nearly throw you over the edge. “Fuck, Sero!” you whine. “You gotta stop or I’m gonna cum!”

“Mmm-hmm!” he eagerly hums into your pussy. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and proceeds to suck on your clit while his finger begins to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides. But it is enough to push you further and further down that road to orgasming all over him. His darkened eyes flick up to yours, staring you down between your thighs. “Ven por mí,” he demands. “Cum for me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ hold back a damn thing.” He grins up at you, his piercings glistening in the moonlight. “I can take it; I’m a big boy.”

He attaches your mouth to your pussy again and runs it until you can't help but fall over that edge. “Ven por mí,” he moans into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reach higher pitches. “Ven por mí, ven por mí, ven por mí!”

And you finally do. That tight knot in your core finally snaps and a wave of euphoria washes over you as you cum all over Sero's face and eager lips with a loud moan that would shatter glass. You see the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushes, your body shivering and shuddering. Your back arches and your hips wind into Sero’s face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally fades, you’re left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so-good. Sero eagerly cleans you up, taking extra care to not overstimulate you as he runs his tongue over your sensitive, twitching pussy. Then he lifts his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices. With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hums to himself. “You taste better than the rum,” he sighs.

Something in that sentence and the way he looks at you brings something out of you––a passionate, raging fire that can only be tamed by him. Slowly, you bring yourself to sit up in front of him and grab his face to smash your lips against his. He moans into the kiss, surprised at the suddenness of it, but soon melts into it the more your lips move against his. Finally, you pull away and stare into his eyes. “I take it you liked it?” he breathlessly asks.

“I loved it,” you purr, running your hands up and down his tatted chest. “Now I want to thank you in my way…if that’s okay with you.”

Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his briefs that has only gotten bigger. You also notice the visible wet spot soaking the fabric, meaning the guy was secreting precum when he was eating you out. The idea of this makes the fire inside of you grow. You may as well have told him you want to give him a million dollars with how fast he scrambles up on the bed, ready for whatever you want to do with him. You giggle, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before laying him down on his back.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you slither between his thick, muscular thighs and finally, finally, getting at those briefs. You gently pull them down, being careful to not scratch him with your nails, and gasping softly when his cock springs free from its trap. It pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box, hard, thick, and veiny. There is nothing but smooth skin down there, Sero’s pubic hair completely shaven. He notices you looking and blushes. “I sweat a lot down there in the summertime,” he sheepishly explains. “So I shaved…it isn't weird, is it?”

You don’t even answer him. You just wordlessly take his dick in your hand, your pussy throbbing at how heavy it feels in your palm. You feel him tense at the feeling of your soft hand on him which coaxes you to begin stroking him, just seeing how he feels. He is soft and smooth, his skin stretching back and forth along his dick as you stroke him.

You pay attention to his body language, peering up at him every so often to see how he’s responding to your touch. He lays with his hands fisting the cushions underneath him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes closed. Deciding you’ve got him right where you want him, you spit into the palm of your hand and continue to stroke him, lubing him up.

Once his dick is shining in your spit, you attach your lips to the top half of him while your hand busies itself with the bottom half. “Fuck,” Sero sighs when your lips wrap around his shaft. “Tan apretada (so tight)…”

You hollow your cheeks and open your throat to take him easier, realizing how big he is the moment he enters your mouth. He practically stretches your throat! How would it feel to get him inside of you? The thought makes you curious to take him deeper. After a few slow test runs where you slide your mouth up and down along his head, you begin taking him deeper. Sero’s hand moves to your head while his other arm moves behind his head, his hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Easy, mama,” he coos. “Take your time. Don’t take any more than you think you can.” You do as he says, only taking as much as your throat will allow. You gag around his cock as you begin to bob your head up and down along it, emitting orgasmic groans and swears in Spanish from his sinful lips. “Mierda! (Shit!)” he hisses, his hand tightening on your hair. “Lo estás haciendo tan bien…you’re doin’ so good for me, baby.”

He continues to whisper praise as you gag and bob around him, using as much of your skill as you can. This includes using your free hand to stroke his balls, tugging on them when he begs you to. You ignore the ache of your knees in the sand and the tears pricking at your eyes, no doubt fucking up your eye makeup. The control he allows you makes you want to give him the best neck of his life, hopefully causing him to nut deep down your throat. You’ll gladly take all of it.

Soon he begins to thrust into your mouth, his hips bumping against your chin as his cock fucks your throat. “Still doin’ okay?” he asks, to which you nod, emitting a moan from him when the roof of your mouth slides along his dick. “God, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he whines. Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if someone came out here and saw me fuckin’ that pretty throat of yours?”

You tilt your head up to look up at him better, loving the view of his body as he bumps your hips against your face again and again. Spit drips from your lips the sloppier your head gets, only making him fuck your face harder. “You like that idea, don’t you?” he chuckles breathlessly. “Naughty girl. What if that someone is one of your girlfriends? What if it’s a resort worker? You wanna be seen on your knees with dick deep down your throat?”

‘Yes,’ you think, your pussy crying beneath you. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ You want that more than anything. You don't care how slutty that makes you. You want to be his slut tonight. You want to be his everything and more, if just for one night. Before you can eagerly finish him off, he slides his wet cock out of your mouth, sighing as he does so. You look up at him, confused. Doesn’t he want to cum down your throat?

“You can say no if you want to,” he says, his chest heaving, “but I’m gonna be real with you: I wanna fuck you. I don’t care if it’s out here or back at one of our rooms, but if I’m gonna cum, I wanna feel that pussy wrapped around me first.” His words cause your pussy to gush desperately around nothing. You’ve never wanted someone inside you more. “I want that too,” you breathlessly answer, hurriedly getting to your feet. Sero does the same, taking your hands in his. “We can go back to my room, if you want. If the girls are there, we can go to yours.”

Sero is more than happy to agree with that judging by how his cock twitches between his thighs.

After gathering your clothes and other items, you both hastily dress in the resort robes to avoid getting kicked out of the lobby for entering nude before hurrying to the resort and through the lobby for the elevators. You use your key card to get upstairs, giggling at Sero’s wandering hands along your hips and his lips on your neck. When you finally make it to your floor, the man carries you–carries you–to your room. When you’re finally at your door, you press a finger to your lips, signaling for his silence. You’re not sure if the girls are back yet.

Carefully, you unlock your door with the card and open the door to find your hotel room still quiet, dark, and neatly cleaned, meaning only the floor maid was in here. You’re going to feel so bad for ruining her nice work later, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad now.

When the door finally shuts, Sero is on you instantly, his hands ripping off your robe and his lips hastily moving against yours. You’re no better. You can't stop yourself from tossing his clothes off too, revealing his naked body and hard cock in the silver moonlight that pours through the window overlooking the resort’s pool and beach in the distance. “I need to fuck you,” he huffs against your lips, his hands squeezing your ass. “Is it okay if I do that? It’s okay to say no if you don’t–“

You silence him with a kiss, gently sucking on his tongue and exposing yourself for your oral fixation. “Shut up and fuck me, Sero,” you purr to him. “I want you to take me to my bed and fill my pussy up the way I know you can.” You then pluck the robe tie from the floor, dangling it in his face. “And I want you to use this on me…please?” Despite feeling emboldened to talk to him in such a demanding manner, that shyness still peeks through.

Sero looks stunned at your naughty request before a smile creeps onto his lips. “I should’ve realized how freaky you were,” he murmurs before pressing a wet, passionate kiss on your lips that makes you think of his mouth in other places. “Let’s waste no more time then.” He takes your hand and leads you to your bed which is right across from Mina and Uraraka’s. You were so happy that your room came with separate beds since you like to sleep with your panties off.

As soon as you plop down on the bed, Sero is hovering over you, his knees on either side of your body. He holds the rope in his hands, staring down at you questionably. With a nod and a reassuring smile, you raise your wrists towards him. Take me.

He doesn’t need any other confirmation that this is what you want. He takes your wrists and wraps them in the tie before attaching them to your headboard so your wrists dangle. “Good?” he asks. You move your wrists around, testing out the new binds. Not too tight but not too loose either.

You nod and he pecks you on the lips before prying your thighs apart. You raise your hips up to meet him, gasping when his cock begins to slide against your slit. His eyes, hooded and hazy with lust, tick up to meet yours. “You still want this?” he huskily asks. You nod, whimpering with need and already yanking helplessly on your binds.

“No,” he firmly replies. “Don’t just nod. I need your words, mami. Tell me you want me.” He slides his cock up, nudging the head against your clit. “Tell me you want all of this dick inside of this pretty lil’ pussy.” You moan in pure desperation, going crazy with need. “Yes, I want you!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes. “Please, Sero! Please just fuck me, Papi!”

The word slips out before you realize it, but Sero catches it immediately. You see his eyes widen an inch and then, in a flash, his entire personality shifts. As soon as he finally slides his cock head inside of you, you know that this is a different person in your bed. He is no longer the sweet, upbeat, concerned man you met earlier at the nightclub, but someone more dominant. Someone who has no problem breaking you completely and then putting you back together again. It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“Say that again,” he growls, beginning to roll his hips, sliding his cock head in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace. “Call me that again.”

Weak moans leave your quivering lips as you struggle to stay still, afraid he’ll stop if you move. “Papi,” you whine, “please, please fuck me. I can't take much more of this. Please, please just–“

Your pleas are silenced when Sero slides in a little deeper, filling you up. A mutual gasp leaves your lips as your pussy walls tighten around him, keeping him nice and snug inside of you. He keeps up the slow thrusts, letting you get used to his girth. “That feel good, mami?” he huffs. “You like this?”

As if he can’t see your eyes rolling into the back of your head and hear the moans coming out of you. “Yes, papi!” you sob. “Yes, I love it! Please go deeper!” Sero does just that, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to bump his hips against you a little faster now, never going any harder than you want him to. It is just the right speed and pressure to slide against your G-spot, causing you to cry to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Sero laughs, staring down at you. “You like this. You love gettin’ filled by a stranger’s dick, don’t you?” His hand finds your throat, applying a bit of pressure and emitting a gasp from you. “This was all you needed to give you that confidence boost, right? Just to get slutted out the way you need to be.”

“Sero,” you groan, your pussy squeezing and clenching around his cock from his words. He leans down close to you, his lips nearly grazing yours as he continues to fuck you into the mattress. “But only I could’ve done this job right,” he whispers. “Only I can fuck you good like this. Right, princessa?”

His hips move faster, harder, his pelvis bumping against your throbbing clit that is close to exploding from the amount of stimulation and care it’s receiving. “Sero!” you loudly sob, gripping the tie around your wrists for dear life. Without a warning, Sero suddenly tosses your legs up to your ears so he can sink in deeper, causing you to nearly scream out as you see heaven’s light before your eyes.

“Tell me,” he grunts, his eyes posted firmly on yours. “Tell me only I can fuck you right like this. Tell me how good it feels!” Whines begin to leave his lips the more rapidly he fucks you, causing your titties to jiggle and the bed to rock.

“So good!” you babble as your pussy squelches and clenches around him. “You’re making me feel so good, papi! I’m gonna cum soon!” You can feel your orgasm beginning to rise the more he grinds his cock into you, filling you to the brim with him.

“Me too,” he groans. “Dios mío (my God), you just feel to fuckin’ good. And you look so pretty stretched around my dick.” He takes his hand off of your neck and strokes your cheek, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip.

“Eres tan bonita (you’re so pretty),” he murmurs, staring down at you in utter adoration. “Eres mia…you’re mine now, honey. I don’t give a fuck if it’s just for the rest of your vacation. I’ll make you mine again and again, every fuckin’ day and night, so you won’t even look at another man back at home.”

He begins to fuck you right into the headboard where luckily you have a pillow to cushion the blows. The feeling of him hitting that spot again and again without fail is so intense that you can’t help the noises that escape you––screams, cries, and sobs of pure, molten pleasure that you know you’ll never get again. He knows it too and that’s why he begins to slow down, working his hips the way he did on that dance floor. It’s too much on your body, too much on your pussy, and you can feel yourself beginning to reach your limit.

Sero leans down to your ear, nibbling on the flesh of your earlobe. “I want you to cum with me,” he whispers into your ear. “Cum around this dick. Cum for me, mami.” He repeats the same line in Spanish, his husky voice filling your ear as his cock kisses your G-spot and his fingers move down to rub your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of no return.

It doesn't take long for you to finally burst around his cock the way you want to. You cum with a long, loud moan that tears out of you as your orgasm washes over you. The moment your pussy clenches around Sero’s cock is the moment he cums too. He grips your hips and swears in Spanish before he pulls out.

It doesn't take long for him. He rapidly pumps his cock in front of your face before his nut spurts all over your body. You gasp as his moans bounce off of the walls, his cum feeling warm on your skin. When you look down, you find it the creamy substance coating your breasts, thighs, and jiggly tummy. There’s even some on your ass due to how high he has your legs up. You are completely covered in him and his scent. And you love it.

Finally, after he feebly gropes one of your breasts and presses a kiss to your foot, Sero unties your wrists and pulls his flaccid cock out of your tender, sensitive pussy, emitting a soft, weak moan from you. Then he’s rolling off of you and plopping down beside you on your bed, exhaustion overtaking him.

The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow and processing what just happened. You just had sex with a total stranger. You let him tie you up and fuck you. You let him see your naked body. What shocks you is though you feel stunned at the whole thing, there is no ounce of shame or embarrassment anywhere inside of you. If anything, you feel satisfied with what just transpired.

You turn to Sero, realizing he’s looking at you already, his eyes shimmering in the slant of moonlight pouring through the window. “I meant what I said, you know,” he says, sounding out of breath. You blink at him, confused. “I want to be here with you, every day and night.” A blush coats his cheeks. “I’d like to spend your vacation with you…if you wouldn’t mind.”

You blink at him again, stunned to silence. You have to be dreaming. You just have to be. There is no way this fine-ass man that you just met and gave up your pussy to is really talking about willingly spending the rest of vacation with you. He could have anyone he wants with that face, voice, and body, but yet here he is, laying in your bed, completely pussy-whipped for you and enthralled by your body.

Suddenly, for the first time tonight, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe I am that pretty. Maybe I am that sexy bitch he sees. Maybe I am beautiful.”

“Is that okay?” Sero timidly asks, becoming nervous. Instead of verbally answering, you lean forward and press a long, passionate kiss to his lips that draws a purr of approval out of him. You pull away, staring up into his eyes. “Sero, you’re acting like you didn’t just give me the best two orgasms of my life,” you giggle. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

The biggest, brightest grin stretches across Sero’s lips at your answer and he leans in to bring you into another open-mouthed kiss that has you craving more. “You know what this calls for, right?” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips. Heat pools inside of your core as your mind goes to other places. ‘Please say more sex.’

“A smoke,” he answers, giving you a wink. Though that isn’t the answer you were hoping for, you also know that you have plenty of time to persuade him for another round tonight. He gets out of bed to get his jeans and retrieves his baggie of blunts from out of his back pocket.

Then he swiftly gets back into bed with you and prepares a blunt for you to share. He does the test smoke first and you watch, aroused and entranced, as the smoke billows from between his pink lips. He then passes it to you and laces an arm around your shoulder, watching you lazily as you puff on the blunt. The silence that surrounds you is serene and comfortable as you pass the blunt back and forth between one another.

When you pass the blunt back to Sero after your turn, you flush with embarrassment as naughty thoughts run through your head. “You think we can try something?” you timidly ask. Sero raises a brow. “I’ve…never shotgun with anyone before,” you softly confess, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sero lets out a laugh that you weren’t expecting. “And you wanna do it with me?” he asks, his smile teasing and playful, making you flush even more. “I think I’m honored and turned on.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before passing you the blunt. “Here, you inhale first.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke, letting it fill your lungs. He slowly leans in with his lips parted as if to kiss you, silently coaxing you to blow the smoke into his mouth in one slow, steady rhythm. You feel even more relaxed now–not just because the weed is working on you, but because you realize that Sero is a man who doesn’t judge.

He accepts every single part of you, inside and out. The thought of leaving him when vacation is over almost pains you, but you’re not going to think about that right now. Tonight and the next fun-filled days here are all that matters.

“Feel good?” he chuckles, admiring your hooded eyes. You slowly nod, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Now it’s your turn.” He takes the blunt and puffs on it pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Come here,” he murmurs, and you’re helpless to resist him. You lean in, but he takes you by surprise when he firmly places his hands on your hips and flips you onto him so you’re now straddling him.

You slowly part your quivering lips for him and nearly moan when he blows the smoke into your mouth in an indirect kiss. It is just as addictive and as sexy as a direct one, but nothing beats Sero’s lips on yours. You lean in and devour his mouth, swirling your tongue around with his. He tastes like weed, mint, and rum. You find yourself nearly shoving your tongue down his throat which he groans at, his hands grabbing your ass and giving you a smack that has your pussy crying.

When you pull away, a sheen line of saliva connects to your bottom lips. “Round two then?” he asks, staring up at you with hooded eyes.

Before you can say yes or even plant your pussy on his cock that you feel hardening beneath you, you hear the hotel door unlock. Your heart leaps as you immediately jump off of Sero and hide under the covers while he sits up, hiding you from the strangers behind the door.

In walks Mina and Uraraka, drunk and hyped up on attraction judging by the two hot strangers trailing in behind them. One is tall, buff, and redheaded with a toothy grin and his hand in Mina’s while the other is shorter but just as fit and sexy with platinum-blonde hair and crimson eyes that you know have panties dropping. His hand is on Uraraka’s lower back, his fingers toying with the little strings keeping her dress together.

“So this is our room,” Mina giggles, inviting the men inside. “We have three different beds, so we can–“ She stops when her eyes land on you and Sero, naked under the sheets and staring at the four like deers in headlights. Uraraka gasps, covering her mouth and going as red as a tomato.

“Looks like your room is preoccupied right now,” the redhead chuckles, grinning at Sero. “See you finally got her, man!” The blonde rolls his eyes, his hand still on Uraraka’s backside. “It’s about fuckin’ time,” he grumbles. “He’s been eyein’ this woman down the entire night like an idiot.”

Sero looks at Mina and Uraraka who look like they want to shoot themselves. “I see you met my friends, girls,” he chuckles. “You’ve got good taste.”

The redhead winks at him and wraps an arm around Mina's waist. “Y’know, why don’t we go back to our room? We’ve got a hot tub, a minibar, and a great view of the beach. We could give these two some much-needed privacy, too.”

Mina quickly nods and practically pushes the three out of the room, winking at you on the way out. The door shuts behind them, leaving you two alone once more.

Sero turns to face you and slithers his hand up your thigh. “So,” he purrs, “we still on for round 2?” He could’ve asked for five rounds and you would’ve given it to them.

The rest of the night is spent in bed, with kisses, touches, snuggling, and endless pleasure that make you want to miss your flight at the end of the week.

THE END.

#smutty smut #bnha smut #black fanfic writer #my works #my fic shit #black writers #black coded reader #chubby reader #sero x black!reader #sero x chubby!reader #sero hanta #latino sero hanta #daddy sero #latin sero hanta

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hoopsmedia · 2 months

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IVERSunday 🔦

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gifnroll · 1 year

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Get ‘em on the horn!

#Michael Jordan #Gif #gifnroll #nba #basketball #hoops #hoops media #hoops allure #nba gif #sports #ballislife #sport #Chicago Bulls #Hoops Media GIF

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

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Belong (2.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; almost drowning, explicit sexual content (kissing, straddling, fingering, oral, penetrative sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Marigolds by Boundary Run; Younger by Nightly || Playlist 🎶

8 years ago

It’s been a full week since you’ve met Min Yoongi. It’s also been a week since the last time you kissed. You won’t deny that you’ve been meaning to do it again; every time he drags his tongue through his teeth, it’s incredibly tempting. But you also won’t deny how much you’ve been enjoying the past few days with him.

You learn something about him everyday. Like how his dream for basketball started, that he took piano lessons as a kid, and that his dad runs the famous antique shop in town and Yoongi spent a lot of time there growing up. You learn about his closeness with the old man and his love-hate relationship with his older brother. You find out about his mother leaving when he was a teenager, a story that mirrors yours, although he said that they don’t speak as much as they used to.

He also likes reading books and watching documentaries, but that a perfect day for him is one that's spent at home with his americano, lounging around and taking naps, and shooting hoops in the evening. It’s the type of day that’s unlike any of the ones you’ve been having.

Since that late night cafe run where you spoke for hours, you and Yoongi have gone to a few more, found a hole-in-the-wall with the best dumplings, explored parks, drove to the outskirts of town and gazed at empty fields, and have been pretty much walking around, peeping in shops and entering the ones that pique your interest.

Yoongi doesn’t complain. He’s patient when you take a long time to decide where to go and what to do, and he watches you in amusement whenever you skip down the street or insist on laying on the grass. You know this last bit because you’ve seen it - that glimmer in his eyes and the softness of his smile.

Taehyung doesn’t believe you when you describe it; he’s rarely ever seen his senior make eye contact nor show much interest in anyone in all the years that your best friend has known him. But you insist that you see it, that Yoongi’s smile is usually brief and shy, but you catch it during the instances that you look his way, which is many times, given just how alluring and good-looking he is.

Sure, the supposed nonchalance is attractive; you know lots of girls who’d fall for his mysterious aura. But that’s just a part of it for you. You know that underneath the seeming disinterest, he’s actually very attentive. He remembers things you’ve said, points out something at a store that you mentioned you’ve been looking for, and buys you bottled water once you feel dehydrated from the heat before you even say anything. After that one time you said you like your coffee with ¾ milk, he makes sure to get you extra every time.

So while you wish he’d kiss you again, you don’t really mind the ways you’ve been getting to know each other. He wouldn’t be messaging you what your plans for the day are and then showing up outside your house if he wasn’t interested.

Today’s afternoon breeze is cooler than usual. It’s why before heading for dinner and noraebang with your newfound friends, you decide to walk around another part of town with Yoongi. He’s in his usual knee-ripped jeans and plain shirt, his baseball cap worn backwards, and his hands inside his pockets.

You’re walking next to him, excitedly talking about your classes for the upcoming school year and the studio visits you’ll make, before you skip towards a flower shop and head inside.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen so far and there are so many different types that you gasp in awe. The owner, an elderly woman, smiles brightly at you as you look around. The daisies catch your eyes as they always do, but you can’t help but beam at the bouquet of marigolds she’s arranging. You converse with her - you say you’re visiting for the summer and she says it’s harvesting time for these bright flowers. Your energy and sunny disposition remind her of them, so she plucks a small piece and tucks it behind your ear.

“There you go, darling,” she coos. “The flower’s even prettier now.” She turns to Yoongi who’s just been standing quietly next to you. “Isn’t it?”

“So much prettier now,” he mumbles.

You nibble your lips out of giddiness while Yoongi looks away. You bow at the woman and thank her for the flower before walking out. It falls off your ear before you make it to the end of the street, and so he picks it up and calls out for you, as you walk mindlessly to the vintage store that you see.

He tucks it gently behind your ear, trying to avoid your eyes, while you try to catch his gaze.

“How does it look?” You ask.

“She looks beautiful,” he says, looking at you now.

It’s what he does, you think to yourself. Yoongi may be shy and may not always look you in the eyes but when he wants to be honest or make a point, he will. You learn now it’s one of the things that causes your heart to stop, as you stand in front of him unable to do or say anything.

You eventually burst into a smile and so does he. It’s one of those moments you share where there’s all this tension and unsaid words but you both prefer to just let it flow, to savor it without addressing whatever it is that’s going on between you.

Yoongi’s phone ringing catches your attention, especially as he groans and picks up the call. He turns away for a bit before looking at you once more.

“The delayed delivery just arrived at the shop,” he informs you. “My dad wants me to help out a bit. Are you, uh, are you okay with passing by?”

He looks shy and a bit worried. Maybe it’s the thought of meeting his family but you don’t mind; you’re quite excited, in fact, since you’re still trying to get to know him. You’re obviously attracted to this man and at this point, you just want to know more about the different aspects of his life.

“Of course,” you smile. “I’d love to meet your dad.”

“And my brother,” he groans. “If he says shit about me, don’t believe it.”

“I’ll try,” you tease, following his lead as he starts walking.

The shop is just 3 blocks away and you get there in no time. He seems to be in a hurry and you want to just hold his hand, tell him he doesn’t have to be anxious, even if you’re unsure of what reason he has to be.

There’s a large truck parked outside and you suppose it’s some furniture pieces. That’s confirmed when you enter and see movers placing dressers and cabinets and benches inside. A man, who seems to be Mr. Min, instructs them to just lay the pieces where there’s space, as his sons will be the ones to arrange them. The movers follow and it’s shortly after when they finally unload everything.

Amidst all the chaos, you get to look around. You’re in awe of what you see; Yoongi didn’t do justice in describing the place because it feels like a museum. You want to just look around and trace your fingers along the surfaces and make up stories in your mind about who owned them.

“Thanks for coming so quickly, Son,” Mr. Min says. “I thought you’d be at the park playing with the guys.”

“Not today,” Yoongi hums. “We were just walking around the area.”

“We?” Mr. Min asks, looking around until his gaze falls on you, questioning eyes perhaps wondering if you’re who his son is referring to.

“Hi, Mr. Min,” you bow. “I’m ___.”

“Hello, my dear,” he answers, returning your smile.

“Dad, where do I—” says another man, pausing when he looks at you. He immediately smiles and fixes his hair. Walking up to you, he reaches out for his hand. “Hi, I’m—”

“He’s Geumjae,” Yoongi finishes, taking the hand that’s reached out for him to shake instead. “My brother. You know, the one I said who’d take my clothes and then lose them? Yeah, that’s him.”

Geumjae smacks his brother’s head in response, glaring at him for interrupting his introduction. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“N-no,” Yoongi stammers, glancing at you warily.

“Then why’d you interrupt?”

“No reason,” the younger man shrugs, looking away from you.

Just as you think that Geumjae would provoke Yoongi, he instead walks over to him, whispers something in his ear, and then wiggles his eyebrows. Yoongi scowls then smacks his brother’s arm, earning him a long chuckle. They continue on doing what brothers do as you watch in amusement, giggling when Yoongi embarrassingly looks your way.

“Okay, that’s enough children,” Mr. Min playfully shakes his head. “Now, can you be civil and work together to arrange the deliveries? I’ll work on inventory.” He turns towards you to say, “don’t worry, it won’t take too long.”

You nod and say you don’t mind, even when he asks if it’s okay for you to just wait. You’re free to look around, he says, and you do, but you stay close by.

“So, you and Yoongi are just… friends?” He asks.

“Yes. We met just last week,” you smile, explaining that you’re just visiting for the summer but that you grew up in Daegu.

“Ah, that’s interesting,” Mr. Min nods. “He’s lived here his whole life, too, but he’s never brought a girl to the shop, nor has he ever mentioned one. I’d say you’re the first. I always wondered if he even befriended girls but now I know he does.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has friends who are girls,” you giggle. “He’s popular at school, as I’ve heard.”

“Well then one would think he would’ve brought someone to introduce to his old man, right?”

“I guess he’s just been so focused on basketball that he hasn’t had time. He talks about the sport with so much passion, Mr. Min. I assume that’s what he prioritizes over, uh… girls,” you answer, finding amusement in Yoongi’s anxious face as he glances at you conversing with his dad without him.

“Well, as I keep telling him - if he drowns himself in the court, then that’s all he’s gonna learn to love,” Mr. Min shakes his head. “There’s always time to meet and be with people.”

“Well, we’ve been spending every day together, so, maybe he’s spending the summer doing that,” you giddily say.

“Well, I hope he does. If you’re the only one who can get him out of the house and off the court, then you should come home often,” the old man chuckles.

I’d like to, you say to yourself, thinking that if this thing with Yoongi goes anywhere, you definitely want to travel here as often as you can to be with him.

The hour flies quickly. The two boys move furniture while Mr. Min records each piece. You converse with him the whole time - you talk about your film class and your favorite movies, indulging him because he likes watching them, too. He talks about his great-grandparents who built the shop and how his family has managed to maintain it all these years. You laugh in between, especially when he’d tell stories of Yoongi growing up here, breaking a few shelves because he always tried to climb on them.

The brothers finally finish the task, and they both tiredly walk up to the counter where you and Mr. Min are.

“All good, dad. We’ll go now. Bye!” Yoongi hurriedly says, pulling you by the wrist.

Mr. Min and Geumjae say their goodbyes, and you don’t miss the playful tone of their voices. You turn back to wave at them and they call out that they’ll see you again soon.

Yoongi lets go of your hand once you exit the shop.

“Sorry,” he says. “For pulling you and, uh, for making you wait that long.”

“I could've stayed there longer, honestly,” you smile, liking the feel of his rough hand on you. “I loved talking with your dad. He’s so endearing. You really do have a good relationship with him.”

“My brother and I do,” he answers. “We were all he had after our mother left. It affected our dad so much even if he didn’t want to show it because he wanted to be the strong one for us. So we made sure he knew he wasn’t alone. And he always reminded us that her departure wasn’t our fault.”

“Hmm, what courage,” you remark. “It’s something I can’t say my father has.”

“He could,” he counters. “Parents don’t know how to love sometimes. In some instances, they just don’t know how to show it.”

“That’s what I don’t get though, with people who struggle to show it,” you muse. “Just… why? What’s so hard about it?”

“Maybe if it’s flawed and imperfect, people become ashamed.”

“It’s still love though, isn’t it? Isn’t not feeling it worse than receiving flawed and imperfect love?”

You’d take any kind of love over nothing at all, you think.

“But if the love is shattered glass, then that’s just gonna hurt both people,” Yoongi hums, prompting you to think.

Your father’s heart did break. Maybe you would’ve accepted his inability to handle you shortly after your mom left. But once he’d healed, once he’d found someone new - which he did, about 4 years after - he still didn’t show it, he still couldn’t figure it out. You’re home for the summer after 2 years since you left and you still don’t feel whatever love he’s supposed to show you.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sigh, not enjoying the somber tone of your conversation.

Yoongi picks this up and immediately asks you if his dad told you any embarrassing stories. Your face lights up right away and you relay what Mr. Min narrated, causing Yoongi to groan and shake his head.

“He said he’ll show me your baby pictures where they put you in costumes,” you laugh. “I can’t wait for that.”

“Why is he embarrassing me like this,” he mutters. “Anything else he said?”

“That you’ve never brought any girl to the shop nor have you mentioned anyone,” you reply. “Is that true? Has sweet assassin captain Min Yoongi not been using his superstardom with the ladies?”

“Well if I did, then it’d be superficial, right?” He answers, earning you a curious look. “There was a girl I liked in freshman year who only went out with me to get close to the basketball team. After I became MVP, a bunch of people started trying to get my attention. It didn’t feel that sincere. And no one really caught my eye and the others sounded quite shallow and those weren’t the type of people I’d introduce to my dad and brother, you know?”

“But I caught your attention,” you remind him. “And you took me to the shop to meet them.”

“Because I had no choice,” he defends. “And well, I just had a feeling they’d like you. And they seem to.”

“That’s nice to know,” you smile. “So what about me catching your attention, huh?”

“Oh I don’t deny that. I’ll always be the guy who got hit by a ball because he was gazing at this pretty girl on the stands.”

“Yes, you’ll always be that guy,” you giggle. “I still haven’t told a soul, by the way.”

“Good,” he hums.

You and Yoongi hang at a park until it’s time for dinner. He drives to the chicken and beer place you’re meeting everyone at, and you don’t miss the smug faces of the guys as you both enter.

“Hanging out again today, I see,” Namjoon teases. “Tae’s been complaining that he hasn’t seen his best friend all week.”

“Yeah, she’s been so busy that I can’t even squeeze myself in her schedule,” Taehyung frowns at you, but you know he’s just teasing, given that you call him every night and talk about Yoongi.

“I’m with you everyday in Seoul,” you playfully roll your eyes. “I’m just seeing what’s out here, you know? I’ve been away a while.”

“And do you like what you’re seeing?” Namjoon baits.

“Oh, I do. Very much.”

The group hoots and you laugh along. You glance at Yoongi who sits across from you and sneak him a smile. He returns it briefly before looking away and giving Jungkook a blank look after the younger man nudges his shoulder to tease.

Dinner goes by noisily. Not long after, you all walk to the nearby noraebang for some more fun. You sit next to Yoongi and you both watch and laugh at the guys fight over the mic and cheer and tease each person who sings.

It’s Namjoon who asks for your song choice and you surprise everyone when you say you’ll only sing if Yoongi joins you. Everyone hoots again, claiming that they’ve never heard the captain sing.

“Is it okay?” You move closer to ask him.

“It depends,” he hums. “Do you have a thing for singers?”

“Hmm, I don’t really mind.”

“Okay. I’m terrible at it and I don’t want you to stop liking what you see.”

You giggle at his statement. He really knows what to say to make a girl flustered and giddy.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” you reply. “I might even like it more.”

Yoongi feels the embarrassment creep in once he takes the mic and you hold your own. His deep voice blends with yours. He won’t say it’s the best harmony, but you’re definitely carrying the song more than he is. You giggle in between lines but he can’t help but notice how your eyes don’t look away from him, whereas he can’t look at you for more than 3 seconds. The crowd loves you and you know how to charm them. You know how to get his heart beating fast, too.

The song finally ends and he breathes a sigh of relief to your amusement.

Sitting next to him, you whisper, “hmm, I still like it.”

Yoongi can only chuckle as he watches you hold in a smile.

You both talk in whispers for the rest of the night, as your friends get carried away with singing. They leave you to your little corner of the couch though, with you leaning closer to Yoongi to say something and him doing the same. His warmth breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, and you have to control yourself from kissing him, which you so badly wish he’d just do.

You can take the initiative, of course, but you like the thrill of this flirtation you’re both doing. You also really want him to be the one to do it first. The only problem is you’re not much of a patient person, so every time he leaves you wanting whenever his face inches close to yours only to move away, your frustration levels increase and you start to rethink if you should just go ahead and take control.

Your group is promptly kicked out at 2AM, and you’re about to ride with Taehyung when Yoongi pulls on your wrist and asks if he could take you home. You agree, riding on the passenger seat that’s now become familiar, and you look out the window for most of the ride, not wanting to show him that you’re maybe already getting impatient. He doesn’t say much either, but you do miss the several times he glances at you and the pout on his face because of your unusual quietness.

He pulls over some meters away from your house, turns off the engine, and then quickly walks towards your side. Your movements are slow; you do want the time to stop, even if you’re still a little frustrated.

“Hey,” he says, as he pulls open the door you’ve unlocked. He stands in front of you while you remain seated with your legs dangling outside. “Is everything okay? You’ve been… quiet.”

You turn to him who looks a little worried, and you don’t really plan on keeping your desires unknown that much longer.

“I’ve just been wondering,” you reply. “Why haven’t you kissed me again? Did you not like it? I mean, well, we did go out for coffee after and then didn’t do it again.”

You turn away as you start to ramble. You just hope you don’t sound pathetic, especially given how confident you were in teasing him earlier.

It’s quiet for a while before you feel his fingers under your chin. He shifts you to face him, and all that worry has now turned into softness.

“I’ve been thinking about that kiss since it happened,” he says, his voice so deep you start to lose yourself in the sound. “And may I remind you that you’re the one who asked to go for coffee, so I thought maybe you wanted to take things slow. And I don’t mind that either. But uh, I’ve also just been waiting for you to initiate.”

You give him a shy smile. “Hey, I just really wanted to talk to you after and know if that mouth is as good at talking as it is at kissing,” you giggle.

“And?”

“And it is, obviously!” You pout. “I wouldn’t be spending everyday with you if I didn’t think so. I’ve been openly flirting and so have you but you haven’t tried kissing me again. And I wanted you to be the one to do it but you haven’t, so I brought it up. I mean, you looked so confident doing it last week.”

Yoongi thinks you’re the most adorable person in this world. How you could want him like this yet also want him to show he wants you just as much is making him want to just smother you in kisses.

“Because I’d just played a game and basketball makes me confident,” he replies.

“So what, you’re only gonna kiss me after you play?” You cross your arms now.

“No,” he chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

He leans down and captures your lips in a kiss, which goes slow for only a few seconds before it turns deep and heady. He doesn’t dominate, letting you bite his lips and swirl your tongue around his mouth. He holds you steady with his hands though, just so he could be at the right angle that would allow him to kiss you hard as he likes.

Yoongi finally pulls away, feeling like he won't be able to stop if he keeps going. You’re in front of your house, after all, and late it may be, your hushed moans could still be heard by anyone who happens to pass by.

You have a cheeky, satisfied smile on. You tease by pecking his lips again and again until he gives you one last kiss. He hugs you tightly and you immediately melt into it.

“It’s been a long day, I’m gonna have to let you go now,” he hums against your ear.

“Okay,” you respond, stepping out of the car. “Can’t wait to do this again tomorrow.”

You only get to see Yoongi the next day in the afternoon, as their coach wanted them to get a good workout before the game. You got over the disappointment quickly, as you spent all the time before then with Taehyung, who not surprisingly freaked out and wouldn’t stop asking if you two were officially a couple. You haven’t talked about it, you said, but you knew you eventually would.

You do like the thrill; you can’t wait for things to escalate physically, but more than anything, you just like spending time with Yoongi. There’s something so comfortable about being in his presence. For someone who likes the buzz of the big city, his calm and quiet aura is a breath of fresh air for you.

Yoongi’s focus during the game was such a sexy sight to see, even more when he’d sneak in a glance or a smirk during timeouts, and when he’d look unbothered after making a 3-point shot, and when he’d drag his tongue through his teeth during dead balls. It’s the fact that you know he’s doing them on purpose because you’re watching, and that’s what makes you pull him into Jungkook’s lone bathroom in the apartment later that evening, just so you could make out with him again.

The rest of the week is mostly spent with him again, save for the days your father asks you to be home to be with your grandparents. You both walk around the town, visit the basketball court where he first played, and then kiss in between.

That Friday, he takes you out on a proper dinner date where he picks you up at Taehyung’s house with a bouquet of marigolds, and you ruin your lipstick after kissing him intensely before you even get to the restaurant.

It’s Monday when he takes you to the outskirts of town to swim at a lake. It’s the area that’s less populated and you’re both lucky that you’re the only ones here on a nice summer day. You enjoy your picnic as you talk about the most random things, and then you strip down to your bathing suit and swim in the water.

Yoongi stays on the mat; the outdoors isn’t really his thing. But you’ve been talking about doing new and fun activities and he thought about this one, knowing you’ll enjoy it. You clearly are, as evidenced by your squeals and soft laughter as you float around and moan at the feel of the water on your skin.

His mind tries not to imagine things, given your sounds and the way you look absolutely stunning in your swimwear. Kissing you has been so good. Sure, his hands travel down your waist every time as he gets lost in how you taste, but he’s never tried to do more, and you’ve never really hinted on wanting to do more. He’ll continue to wait patiently though, but it’s not even all that he wants from you.

It may be a little naive to think but he finds himself being something more with you. Yoongi isn’t even the type to fall at first sight; he’s a patient man who knows that love and relationships take a while to build. But you’re unlike anything he’s ever really thought he wanted.

It’s your unabashed joy, your bluntness, your curiosity and general love for things. It’s your energy and how you talk about your dreams and the confidence you have in yourself that inspires him to dream better. You’re different and alike in many ways, and as the unaffectionate person that he is, he finds himself just wanting to be near you with fingers just grazing so he’d know you’re just next to him.

He’s thinking about how sweet your smile is when he realizes that he no longer hears your voice. Scanning the lake, he finds your head popping in and out of the water. You look a little winded and definitely not alright. His mind goes into panic mode and he rushes to the water with his clothes still on and finds his way to you.

He wraps his one hand around your waist and feels for your leg to make sure it’s touching the ground. You cough a bit before you turn towards him.

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly.

“You don’t like the water,” you say, disregarding his question.

“I don’t. Are you okay?”

“And you hate it when your clothes are wet.”

“I do. ___, are you okay?”

You hum your yes, a cheeky smile painting your face as your one arm wraps around his shoulder for support while you stretch your limbs.

Yoongi eyes you curiously. “___, did you pretend to be drowning just so I’d get in the water with you?”

“Nope, I’m too good at swimming to know how to pretend-drown,” you laugh, feeling only a little bad for scaring him. “I got cramps, though.”

“Shit,” he groans, knowing as an athlete that cramps are the worst, especially while swimming. “Let’s get back on shore.”

You push yourself through the water, not wanting to let go of him just yet. You’d panicked only slightly earlier when you felt that sensation on your leg, and you tried to keep your head above water for oxygen. Once you’d felt Yoongi wrap his arm around you and look worried, especially since you know that he hates the water, your heart started to stabilize.

He helps you sit on the mat as he stretches out your legs. You tell him where it hurts as he instructs, and he massages where you point, starting from your calf.

His hands are a mix of rough and smooth against you. This is the most he’s touched your skin and it’s enough to make your mind short-circuit, especially as your eyes focus on his slender fingers, gently pressing against you. You can think of so many other ways he can use those fingers on you, and you don’t really mind the dirty thoughts now because it’s definitely helping you to forget the pain.

He’s focused on you while you’re focused on him, and it’s when he does this circular motion that you make a guttural sound.

“Is this okay?” He glances at you.

“Higher,” you instruct, and he stops behind your knee before he massages again.

“Higher,” you say once more, and he proceeds to work on your hamstring area.

The tips of his fingers graze the skin close to your thigh. He seems to not have noticed because he still looks quite serious; he probably feels the tightness because you can feel it, in areas that aren’t just on your leg.

But he’s teasing you unknowingly, and you just want him to touch you. You have a feeling he’s waiting for his cue again so you think to give it to him.

“Just a bit higher,” you whisper, the sultry tone of your voice perhaps giving you away, as his eyes lock with yours and it dawns on him that he’s reaching uncharted territory. “It’s not my leg anymore that hurts.”

“Fuck,” he chuckles, knowing exactly what you mean.

He’d been so fixated on managing your cramps because he’s experienced it so many times and it sucks, and he just wanted to make sure you were okay right away. It doesn’t matter if he hates the water and being wet with his clothes on but he realized he’d swim the depths of the ocean to save you any day.

But your words shake him off his focused state and he also realizes that his fingers are way higher than he remembers them being. He tries to steady the beating of his excited but nervous heart, yet it’s your cheeky, almost desperate eyes and the way you’re squeezing your thighs that prompts him to make a move.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” He mumbles in your ear, surprising you with a deep press of his palm against your clothed cunt.

You moan at the act, unsurprisingly wanting more.

“No. You are the dangerous one, Min Yoongi,” you pant, as his fingers slide up and down your slit. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Yoongi helps you to go to the back of his car, wet clothes and all. He makes you come twice - the first time with his fingers, the second with his mouth.

The place is buzzing as you look around, with new and familiar faces clearly enjoying the vibe of tonight’s party. It’s one of the rich kids’ birthdays so she threw an all-you-can-drink event at the college bar that everyone frequents. As honorary members of Yoongi and crew’s group, you and Taehyung attend and end up enjoying too much.

Especially you, as you cling onto Yoongi’s arm while his hand caresses the inside of your thigh under the table, something that you guided him to do. You lean on his shoulder as you laugh at your drunk best friend’s banter with your not-boyfriend, and you feel the alcohol slowly hitting your system. This is how you know you’ve had a lot more than you intended and you hate it. You wanted to be able to kiss Yoongi one more time tonight and remember it.

His warm breath against your face makes you smile, and Yoongi chuckles before asking you if you want to go home already. You vigorously shake your head no, your drunk babbling making him smile, but it’s when you almost slide off the chair that he decides you should probably rest now.

You’re sleeping over at Taehyung’s place, who’s almost as drunk as you are, both of you going on about partying similarly back in Seoul.

Yoongi tries his best to manage both of you, including a barely-awake Jungkook whom he drops off first. Arriving at Taehyung’s place, Yoongi is surprised to find it empty.

“My parents are away,” Taehyung mumbles.

“Ooh, you can stay with us first,” you giggle. “More time with you, baby.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him that, and much as he wants to hear it some more and cuddle with you, he knows he shouldn’t. So with all his strength, he helps you and Taehyung up the stairs and takes you to the guest room. You sit on the edge of the bed, mind in a haze as you drink the water that Yoongi gives you, and somehow that just causes you to run to the toilet and puke.

He takes the hair tie from your wrist to pull your hair into a bun and then rubs your back to aid you. You do feel much better after, and he even helps you wash your face and brush your teeth, given that you insist on kissing him one last time before he leaves.

You make it to the bed while Taehyung sleepily walks to his room, and it’s Yoongi’s soft kiss on your forehead that you remember before falling asleep.

Waking up early after a night of drinking isn’t new to you. After staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes and trying to remember how you and your best friend got home, you get off the bed then go to the living room. You’ve just gone back down after leaving Taehyung with some aspirin when the doorbell rings, wondering who it could be.

You’re surprised to see Yoongi standing at the door, and he holds up a bag of what he says is breakfast that he bought on the way here.

“Good morning,” he hums against your lips, as you basically jump on him at the sight of his smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“I guess,” you say, walking to the kitchen. “I just remember lying in bed and then waking up. Did you drive us home?”

“Yup.”

“And dragged our drunk asses to bed?”

“Yup.”

“What a sweet guy,” you tease, standing in front of him to kiss him again.

“I knew you needed your beauty sleep.”

You giggle before helping him with the food, and you say that you could both go ahead because Taehyung won’t be up in a few hours.

So you enjoy your breakfast and the hangover soup, which your best friend devours once he wakes up at lunch time. His parents will arrive in the evening so the 3 of you stay at home, get some food delivered, and play video games at Taehyung's insistence.

It's 6PM but he already wants to sleep, he says, wanting to save his energy for online games until early morning with Jungkook, so you and Yoongi decide to leave.

“Should I take you home now?” He asks as he starts the car.

“Hmm, it’s too early,” you say. “Do you think we can hang out at your place?”

It’s been a month since you both met; 3 weeks since admitting that you’ve been wanting to kiss each other again badly. You’ve both pretty much gone everywhere around town, except for his college dorm. He’d have wanted you there earlier but he wasn’t sure of what it would imply or what you’d think of it, and so hearing you suggest it is making him more excited than he should be.

“Sure,” he says casually.

There’s a sea of butterflies in your stomach and you can’t really hide your smile. The thought of being in a private place alone with him is giving you all these ideas, and all of them involve having your skin against his.

You pause the thoughts in your head and focus on something else. You realize that the radio is turned way down, so you turn the volume up a bit, saying that you would’ve expected him to have the music up.

“You talk a lot,” he says, earning him a gasp until he clarifies. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. You just have a lot of thoughts and you express them. I like listening.”

“Oh.”

“I’d hold your hand, too, but you use it to talk so I don’t.”

“You can always hold onto my thigh,” you suggest, causing him to chuckle.

He removes his hand from the brake and lays it on your inner thigh, and you hum in response at his warm touch.

“Is this Taehyung’s shirt?” He asks.

“Yeah. I forgot to bring clothes to his place.”

Yoongi merely hums and goes back to driving quietly, and you can’t help but watch him from your side, one hand on the wheel and the other on you. It feels so comfortable and domestic but something about it is so sexy; it almost feels like foreplay for you.

You make it to his place, a small studio that has all the necessities.

“It’s tight but it works,” he hums, clearing his 2-seater couch for you to sit.

You make yourself snug on it, imagining how days would be like just being with him here. Days of cuddling and maybe more. You know he’s thinking it; he’s been looking a little nervous since you suggested going to his apartment and just like the second kiss, maybe you should be the one to initiate this, too.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” You ask. “This smells too much like Tae.”

Yoongi hums his yes and walks towards his closet. You take the opportunity to remove the one you’re wearing, leaving you with nothing but your underwear on.

He turns around and freezes at the sight of you, his eyes unmoving from your body while you remain standing there, the heat creating up your neck at the feeling of being ogled at like this.

“Guess you don’t need this anymore,” he says, tossing the shirt on his bed.

He walks there without turning away from you, then he sits on the edge and his look suddenly turns soft. He reaches out his hand, which you take, and he motions you to sit on his lap. Straddling him on his bed, you wrap your arms around his neck then kiss him deeply. He steadies you with a hold of your hips, and you can’t help but grind against him as the tension starts to build up.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything. When he pulls away from the kiss, he unhooks your bra, cups your swell breasts, and then sucks them. You let out a restrained cry; it’s so stimulating as he skillfully licks and nips your nipples while you grind against his clothed body.

“Yoongi,” you moan, just completely lost in the feel of his mouth on your chest, with his warm tongue gliding around your sensitive areas.

He doesn’t rush, he doesn’t go too hard; he just follows a pace that lets him savor the perfect way your body was created for him to taste and touch and feel. He thinks he’s in heaven.

Your back arches and this isn’t how he wants you to go; he wants you comfortable and able to feel pleasure all over your body. So he stops momentarily and lays you on your back. His eyes still on you, he pulls your underwear off, humming in satisfaction at the string of your essence that attaches from the clothing he removes.

He spreads you open to see what he’s up against, and you tell him that there’s no need to prepare you anymore; your entire body is ready for him.

Removing his clothes, he remarks, “so this is why you wanted to come here, huh?”

“If you weren’t gonna suggest it, then I would,” you bite back. “I just wanted to be with you. And feel you inside me.”

He smirks then takes a condom from his shelf, looking at you the whole time he puts it on. He wants you so badly. He’s imagined this so many times, yet seeing you naked on his bed, ready and yearning for him, is still so much more than what his mind could conjure. His body’s screaming for you, but you look at him with so much desire that his heart melts at the thought of him being so lucky that you could want him as much as he wants you.

Hovering over you, you see that softness in his eyes again. He cups your cheek and caresses it and you melt into his touch immediately.

“I’m not always good at saying things,” he admits, wanting to say more - that he’s never felt so content, so satisfied, so happy.

“I know, and that’s okay,” you smile. “You do them, and that’s what matters.”

He nods in understanding. He’s generally good with words, but expressing what he feels to someone through them, especially if it’s someone he’s come to care so much about, isn’t his strongest suit. Sure, he’s much more perceptive and introspective than most would think; they usually just chalk it up to his disinterest and detachment.

But Yoongi is very observant, and he’s known from that first day that you were into him. He knew he was in trouble because he was so, so into you. He’s thankful you don’t mind his shyness, with the bursts of confidence only coming in every once a while. If anything, you seem to like how he normally is. But tonight, he’ll at least try.

Pushing into you, he feels the sensation all over his body. You’re warm and every perfect thing out there. You take him so well and he just wants to live in this.

“You feel so good,” he whispers in your ear, thrusting in and out and hitting you deeper every time. “Fuck, you’re made for me.”

His voice is low and deep. You feel like you just had an orgasm.

“Oh god,” you mewl, meeting his thrusts and no longer caring how loud you are.

He fits inside you so perfectly; you don’t think your pussy is made for anyone else. He knows just the right pace to build up the tension so satisfyingly, that when he sucks on your nipple, you crash so suddenly, and it’s a damn good fall that has you wanting more.

Yoongi comes, with his head slotted in the crook of your need as he breathes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine wanting even more of him. After coming down from both your highs, you do it again, much rougher this time, with you on all-fours, feeling him at the edge of your being as he pushes hard, leaving half-moon crescents on your hips.

Tired and hungry from what felt like a marathon, you whip up some instant noodles for your second dinner - you ate each other, after all - and then cuddle with him in bed as you still try to process just how good he’d fucked you.

“Your father’s not looking for you?” He asks, as he plays with your hair while you lay on his chest.

“Nope, he just lets me do and go wherever as long as I tell him where I am “ you say. “And right now, I’m at Taehyung’s.”

“Hope he won’t wonder why you’ll always be there, then.”

“If this is your way of asking me over again tomorrow, then it’s a yes.”

Yoongi chuckles and kisses your forehead.

He can make you come multiple times and look at you like he’ll devour you but at the end of the day, Yoongi will always, always kiss your forehead. It’s the one thing he does that says everything, you think, and perhaps that’s why you feel as much as you do.

It’s the buzz of your phone indicating multiple messages that wakes you up this time, and if it wasn’t for you seeing the time that it’s already lunchtime, you wouldn’t have known the sun was even out. Yoongi’s blinds are so good, they block out an entire day.

You shift out of his hold to get a little bit of light in, then you nuzzle his neck to try to wake him up.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you whisper. “You have a pickup game with the guys in the afternoon.”

Yoongi lets out the lowest of grunts but he doesn’t budge.

You pepper his cheek with kisses, and though his groans get louder, there’s no indication he wants to actually wake up. You wrap your legs around him and give him a tight hug. You try to tickle him this time and it gets him to move only a little bit.

“Jagi-ya,” he groans, the tone pretty much asking you to stop.

But you stare at him though, unbelieving of the term of endearment he just used on you. You want to climb on top of him and kiss him awake so you do just that.

“Hey, wake up. You told me to make sure you’re ready by 2.”

“Jagi,” he says louder now. “5 minutes.”

“Only if you call me that again.”

Ironically, it’s what gets him to wake up.

“You like that?” He asks, his eyes now half open.

“Yes,” you smile giddily. “It’s sweet and cute.”

“Okay, then I’ll say it again. Let’s go back to sleep, jagi,” he says, hugging you tight against his chest.

You give in but you don’t really sleep. You just lay on him comfortably, feeling like on cloud 9 as you enjoy these moments with him.

He does wake up 15 minutes later, but by that time, you’d brushed your teeth, watched him lie comfortably on the bed, and got to the glaringly obvious truth about what you feel.

Laying down next to him again, you finally tell him.

“I like you, Yoongi. I like you a lot.”

You smile at his flustered smile, and you want more of it so you continue.

“And I know things happened pretty fast. We kissed first before anything else but this isn’t just all lust or some summer whirlwind romance chick flick,” you try to explain. “You’re so caring and protective and kind and so fucking sexy. Like, it’s possible to be attracted-at-first-look but I might’ve already liked you when you caressed my cheek when you first kissed me.”

He chuckles at your statement.

“I’m serious. That hand is deadly,” you argue.

He cups your cheek again to tease, but you know he’s just distracting himself.

“You know I like you, too,” he finally says, and you’re unable to stop yourself from giggling right on his chest, clearly flustered and giddy.

“At this rate, you’re gonna be in love with me by the time summer ends,” he adds.

“I have a feeling that’s exactly what’s gonna happen,” you smile, kissing his lips softly.

But you lie. You might already do.

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