SWEET ★ HONEY ★ BUCKIIN’

Your bratty attitude landed you in the position you were in, bent over the arm of the black leather sofa. One too many complaints about redoing the chorus of the title track to your new album and Hongjoong lost the patience that has been hanging by a thread for the last week of working with you. Nevermind your teasing touches and all of the innuendos thrown his way by you, it was your continuous lack of work ethic that made him snap and put you in your place.

A firm hand gripped the hair at the crown of your head, bunched up in a fist at the root of your hair while the other hand worked you on his cock. Slamming your hips against his pelvis, splatters of your wetness leaving droplets on the side of the sofa, coating your inner thighs and his pelvis. Hongjoong was thankful for the sound proofness of his studio, your wailing and the sound of your messy pussy would be echoing down the company hallway if not for it. 

“Such a pretty voice. If only you could sound this pretty when I asked you to, you wouldn't be wasting my time and crying on my cock.” Hongjoong pushes out through gritted teeth. The slide of him in your tight walls felt fucking magical he could nut in you then and there. But he had a lesson to teach. 

“I’m s-s-orry,” you manage to moan out. Probably the 35th time you've apologized since he pushed your face into the cold leather and split you open. He’s so thick, the way he fills you up each time he punches his hips forwards, fucking bruises into the hinge where your upper thighs meets your lower abdomen on the arm of the couch, it's overwhelming in the best way possible. 

He laughs a wicked laugh, “Spoiled brats like you are never sorry,” he spits. “You just don't want to suffer the consequences of your actions.” He curls the fist in your hair tighter, making your scalp stings. You hiss, bringing a hand up from the couch cushion to grab at his wrist and alleviate the pain. You yelp and drop your hand back down when he just tugs harder, pulling your body up to hover parallel to the ground. The hand digging into your hip moves to your mouth, palm covering your lips, the side of his thumb resting right under your nose, the other four fingers curving around the side of your face digging into your cheek. He stops his brutal thrusts, only after shoving himself so far inside that you feel like he's inside your stomach.

Leaning down and pressing his lips right against your ear, his words send a pulsing throb straight to your clit, “I don't want to hear another apology come out of your pathetic mouth. All I want to hear is the pretty pitch of these slutty moans, got it princess?” All you can do is attempt a nod, which seems good enough for him. He nips at your ear lob right before he pulls away and resuming sawing into you. Thank god it's easy for the moans to spill free through his palm, at this angle all words seem to disappear from your brain anyways. 

He's deceptively strong, being able to hold your body up just by the hold he has on your hair and the press of his hand around your mouth. The tips of your fingers barely graze the arm of the couch as he rolls his hips into you. Your scalp stings, you already know you won't be able to wear extensions for awhile. You’ll have to come up with

an excuse for your stylist, definitely can't let them know you were fucking the producer your father hired. 

He switches up the angle of his thrusts, making you jerk and clench around his cock particularly harder than you been, “Oh fuck. There we go, baby. Keep clenching around this dick like that. I’ll be filling this pussy up in no time.” The moan you let out sounds like it's not being muffled by his hand at all. The tightness in your tummy increased, that familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching at a dire speed. So fast you panic, wiggling to get away because it felt so intense, bordering on painful. 

“Joong! Joong!” You completely forget his order to stay quiet. He freezes and you could die right then and there. 

He tuts, “Dumb, dumb baby.” Your heart slams in your chest, anxiety spiking at an all time high. What was he going to do? Not let you cum? Drag it out? Make you beg? All of it sounds like torture in this moment, you were so fucking close you wanted to do Hongjoong the honors and just slap yourself for being such an idiot.

He guides you back over the arm of the chair and removes the grip on your hair, but keeps his hand pressed tight against your mouth. “You’re such a shit listener. I can't really blame you fully though, that's just how you were raised, huh? Getting everything you want, not having to really work for it.” He runs a finger down the length of your spine to the dip in your lower back, dragging in to the side and around your waist to your front where he pinches your clit suddenly. You squeal and kick out your legs as much as you could with how close he was pressed against you. Unsurprisingly it doesn't deter him in the slightest, he keeps his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in a tight squeeze around the nub. 

The breathing through your nose gets quicker and quicker, try to take in as much oxygen as you can to calm yourself down. Hongjoong sighs, “The only way to learn is to show you that if you don't do what you’re asked, you lose something in return.” 

Before you can even ponder what he means, your ability to breathe through your nose vanishes. The pressure around your nostrils is what alerts your sex dumb brain that his thumb from the hand still wrapped around your mouth has come up to pinch your nose shut with the edge of his index finger. Instincts kick in and you're shaking your head, trying to rip away the pressure against your face. But he just follows the jerks of your hand, eventually yanking you back by the face until your body is pressed long against him. Hooking his elbow around your shoulder and holding your back tight against his chest.

“You breathe when I cum,” He states with his lips pushed up against the side of your hair. The pressure of your face increases, wanting so badly to sob but your chest just jerks in small pulses. He keeps his angle, spearing directly into the spot that would make you scream if you could. You squeeze your thighs together tight, lungs burning, not knowing how much longer you have before you lose consciousness. 

As for Hongjoong, he was seconds away from cumming before he even took your, literal, breath away. He may use extreme methods to whip a brat like you in shape, but he's not cruel. 

The tightness of your thighs squeezing together, the pulsing of your slick walls around him, bends over with a deep groan, tapering off into a moan, “That's right, make me cum. Listen for once in your life, c’mon princess. This one time, do as you’re told.” He orders you as he rolls your clit lightly between his knuckles. Your eyes slip shut, pushing tears over your water line and down your cheeks. Your chest swells with pleasure and the pressure of losing oxygen. Fuzzy black and gray dots appear behind your eye lids, time starts feeling like it's moving slower. 

All it takes is a singular clench around his cock and it's over for him. He’s cumming deep inside you with a deep moan, and winded sounding “Fuuuuuck,”. He switches to pressing the pads of his index and middle finger to your clit, rubbing quick swipes along the bundle of nerves as he drops his hand from your mouth to resting lightly on your throat.

Oxygen rushes through your airway, the relief feels almost euphoric as the fluttering in your cunt from the way Hongjoong is playing with you so deliciously.

“Please,” Your hoarse voice begs. You know he has no reason to let you cum, but you hope that maybe he'll get caught up in the moment and let you anyway.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asks through his heavy breathing, biting through the over stimulation to feed you small thrusts. 

“Yes, Joong! I promise, I’m sorry I swear! I’ll listen!” You sob, nodding your head as fast as you could. Fuck you’re too cute. He wasn’t going to deny you an orgasm, it was never part of the plan, but your begging is so sweet. You sound genuinely concerned about what he's going to do. 

“Cum then, prove it. Prove that you're a good girl and not the spoiled brat that walked into my studio last week.” The pressure on your clit increases a fraction and the bubble in your tummy pops, warm tingles spreading through your veins. The sound that comes out of you is broken and embarrassing but you don't care. How could you when you feel like you've been revived from the brink of death? By a sexy, broody, music producer no less? 

 The pattern of your breathing syncs up with his, grateful for the hold he has on you so your knees didn't have to kiss the floor. 

Eventually he speaks, “You gonna keep your word?” 

You scoff and let out a clipped laugh, “I dunno, I might need a reminder of why I should. Your methods are weak.” 

It started with lingering caresses to your shoulder, then escalated to poking your sides. Further on to pinching your cheeks, then tugging your hair. All to get a rise out of you. He found it endearing how easy it was to annoy you.

Then one day, he tried something very new.

"Please!"

"No."

"Please!"

"No!"

"Pretty please!"

"Wooyoung!" you shouted, turning your head and shooting him a look that could kill. He only pouted and just as his lips formed to shoot back another plea, you threw your hands in defeat. "Fine!"

That all too familiar smug smirk of his graced his lips, and immeditely irritation began to brew. You grumbled as you took your place sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Wooyoung sat on it behind you, his legs placed on either side of your body. His hands carded their way through your hair, catching on tangles and knots as you mumbled incoherent complaints.

"Quit being a baby, you know I love playing in your hair." Wooyoung smiled, admiring the curls and frizz.

"Yeah, I get that, but I'm trying to get work done, but I can't really focus when you're scalping me."

Wooyoung scoffs, right as he tugs a rather tender area, "C'mon, you're being dramatic."

"I have the right to." You crossed your arms and stared at the TV in front of you as it played some sitcom reruns. As much as you gave him a hard time, his playing with your hair did somewhat relax you, but you'd take that to your grave.

Wooyoung's slender fingers parted the coils of your hair, fingers ruffling the roots to give it more volume. He admired the shine of it, how it fit to the curve of your neck and the way you shivered when the strands brushed your nape.

Your eyes were glued to the TV, silence washing over both of you, and he began to softly braid and part your hair, playing with it gently.

His eyes fell to where the delicate locks draped over your neck, and something deep in the nooks and crannies of his brain switched, and suddenly the junction where your neck met your shoulder looked... tantalizing.

Soft skin pulled over fragile bone, plush flesh that was warm to the touch each time his fingers brushed over it. His hands buried in your hair, he often found his eyes wandering to your neck, sliding a hand from your locks to gently trace a line from below your ear down the side of your neck, along your shoulder.

You ignored his lingering touches because it was Wooyoung; he was just being touchy as usual.

His fingers stopped right above the vein in your neck, while his other hand massaged slow, deep circles against your scalp, pulling a contented sigh from your lips.

"You're annoying," you mumbled, the relaxation very evident in your tone.

"I know," he responded, unable to tear his eyes away from your soft skin.

Enamoured.

His next move even surprised him.

You felt his warm breath on your skin, and he felt alot closer. Then his soft, plush lips were against your neck, and you opened your mouth to ask what the hell he was doing.

He brushed his lips across your skin in featherlight motion, before he opened his mouth, bared his teeth, and bit.

His teeth sank into the flesh of your throat, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to really feel it. His warm mouth, the quick, sharp sting, his tongue sliding over the spot to soothe the bite.

Well, the noise that escaped you was somewhat unbecoming.

A high-pitched, soft whine. Definitely sensual in nature. Wooyoung pulled his lips from your skin and stared down at you in wonder. "Whoa."

You did not turn around. He felt the skin on your neck flare hotter, and you kept your eyes trained in front of you, as if you didn't look at him, you might disappear.

You did not, of course.

And Wooyoung grinned like he had just struck gold.

"Oh my god, you dirty pervert."

You whipped around and stared at him, lips formed in a pout, eyes glassy, and breathing heavy. "You're the one who bit me, you freak!"

"And you liked it, didn't you?" His eyes locked with yours, challenging, daring you to deny it.

"Woo..." you mumbled, bewildered and embarrassed. The air was thick, and the tension palpable; an unspoken heat lingered between you two. Wooyoung smiled, and he lowered his head so his face was closer to yours, the look in his eyes far from modest.

“How long.” He pressed, grinning wildly at this new discovery about his best friend.

“I’m not doing this, you just caught me off guard cause well y’know, you fucking bit me?”

“How long?” He ignored you. “Tell me-“ he poked the side of your cheek repeatedly. “Tell me tell me tell me tell me tell me-“

“Jung Wooyoung I will knock your lights out!”

“What are you into that too?” He laughed, tugging your hair playfully. You could never win. You sighed and rubbed your temples, the bite mark on your throat throbbing, matching a similar feeling that bothered you between your legs.

“If I bite you again will you cum-“

“And that’s quite enough!” You stood up, a flustered mess, getting ready to kick him out and retreat to your room.

But his warm hand gently slipped around your wrist, stopping you. He looked up at you from where he sat on the couch, as he lifted your wrist to his lips.

He presses your pulse point to his mouth softly, slowly opening his mouth silently, giving you the time to decide if you wanted this to truly end here. You made no move.

Carefully, Wooyoung closed his lips over the vein in your wrist, nipping at it oh so gently, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your heart was racing, pounding in your ears when you felt his soft tongue trace over the sensitive thin skin of your wrist.

"I wonder what other pretty little sounds I can pull out of you." Wooyoung whispered, releasing your wrist from his gentle bite, pressing a featherlight kiss against it.

“Will you sing for me?”

And thats how you ended up underneath him, stripped of all your dignity (and your clothes), legs parted and body trembling, as your best friend laid you out on the couch, his cock sliding deep inside of your guts, one hand secured around your throat the other holding the underside of your thigh hiking your leg up over his shoulder, littered in bloody bite marks.

Oh, he was insatiable.

Every inch of your body had the marks of his canines, a bite here a bite there, some so rough the indents were dotted in little spots of maroon. Your hair was an awful mess, your throat littered in teeth marks and hickies, your thighs sticky from your own arousal as he fucked his cock into you, Wooyoung's eyes crazed with lust as he drove you over that perfect edge again, cunt clenching and eyes rolling as you came around his cock again, sinking his teeth into your earlobe, groaning like he was starving.

"Holy shit, baby, you're nasty." Wooyoung laughed against the shell of your ear, his heavy breaths and whimpering moans going directly to your brain as he fucked you like you owed him money, rough and claiming and deep.

"W-woo...!" you cried, brain fuzzy and stomach coiling in pleasure, every part of your body sensitive and sore, and you were sure tomorrow morning there was no way you'd make it out of bed. He used your poor body like he was in heat, relentless and mean, yet whispering the sweetest nothing against your ear, licking the dots of blood that seeped from the marks he had left all over your shoulders.

"Fuck baby, just like that."

"You're doing amazing, sweet thing, taking it all so well."

"Taste so good, fuck, shoulda told me about this sooner."

"So soaked and ruined for me, love the way you whine."

Every drag of his cock inside of your soaked pussy pulled moan after pathetic moan from your raw throat, Wooyoung slotting his lips with yours and swallowing your sweet noises, sinking his teeth into the plush fat of your bottom lip, tugging and smiling against you.

His nails dug into the bites, drawing more blood from your skin, moaning when you clenched around him each time he inflicted more pain. You could deny it all you want, but clearly you were loving it.

Wooyoung found his favorite place to mark you up was between your thighs. So close to your sensitive pussy, each time he bit the sensitive flesh between your legs, your whole body would jump, and your cunt would gush even more. To which he drank up too happily, gluttony embodied as he moaned into your sex like he couldn't get enough.

"So fuckin' pretty baby, all marked up from me. You're mine, aren't you? Say it..."

Mustering up the bit of brain cells he hadn't fucked out of you just yet, you obeyed. "Y-yours Woo... all yours.."

Wooyoung groaned and licked up a greedy stripe up the length of your jaw, pressing wet, sloppy kisses along the side of your throat, completely pussy drunk. “Yeah you are.”

Even when your brain was mush and your thighs trembled so hard you would've thought you were seizing, he continued to enjoy you, opting now for eating your poor overstimulated pussy until tears streamed down your face, his hands gripping your thighs for dear life like he was holding himself afloat so he wouldn't drown in your wetness.

Tongue lapping and teeth nipping, finger brushing your sensitive skin, and his swollen lips latching onto your clit and sucking without mercy.

"Wooyoung- please!" You begged, your sore hands gripping at his shoulders. His hands kept you pried open for him, digging into your thighs, buried in your cunt like he was trying to make a home there.

"More?" he replied, voice muffled as he didn't dare take his mouth off of you, laughing when you whined pathetically. "I can give you more baby, just lie there and feel good."

You shook your head back and forth as your attempt to get him to have mercy on you failed, your back arching and your brain hazing, Wooyoung's tongue sliding inside of you, curling, twisting, drinking you up completely ensurient.

"Holy fuck, honey. You taste so fucking good. All of you. Every- shit- every bit of you. Wish I could've tasted you sooner. You would have let me, wouldn't you?"

His fingers trailed up your inner thigh and promptly slid past your walls and curled inside of you perfectly, and you were cumming in no time, his tongue swirling around your clit, nipping it every now and then as he dragged you through your orgasm.

"Woo-!" you cried, your muscles started to give out on you as that orgasm nearly knocked you unconscious, and yet he refused to stop, like he was drunk on your juices. Like he truly was addicted to your taste.

"Is that a yes?" Wooyoung whined, slowing his fngers inside of you and stroking your walls so languidly you could feel every bit of pressure. "I know baby I know. Don’t worry, you can let me eat you out every day, and we can still stay friends. I promise...." he moaned, eyes rolling, licking up between your pussy lips like he couldn't bear to stay away from it.

"I promise, fuck..."

Just an absolute animal.

Note to self: Invest in a muzzle.

He's got you bent in half, your own knees flattening your breasts, sobbing and drenched in sweat, trapped under his heavy body as he savagely fucks you. His teeth are bared like he’s a snarling wolf, rabid with lust, growling and grunting in a throaty voice you barely recognize. There’s a trace of Clark left in his eyes, the last shred of control he’s holding onto, the only thing that’s keeping him from actually hurting you with his bestial power.

Not that you’re not sore—you’ve been going for hours now, losing track of how many times you’ve come. All you can do is hang on while he uses your body to sate his unearthly urges. You try to dig your nails into his biceps, but his skin is as unyielding as the drive of his cock.

“Jus’ one more, gotta give ya one more load,” he mutters between gritted teeth. “You can take it, jus’a few more minutes baby, good mate, so good f’me.”

His cock is bigger in rut, every ridge and vein more pronounced, emphasizing how inhuman it is. He’s always been a lot to take, but the sharper edges now, the way it threatens to split you open and plunges so deep, makes it hard to breathe, and yet you relish the way it lights you up as it hits every spot you have and then some. His balls, too, feel especially heavy and large as they collide against your ass with a wet slap on every thrust.

“So close, gonna fill ya up and breed ya right, fuck a baby into this pretty pussy.” He’s slicking in and out of you faster, riding on a river of his own cum from your previous rounds. Your cunt is drenched, throbbing. “Can’t wait to make you all round with me, like a perfect mate. Gotta fill you to the brim with my seed so it takes, give it all to you.”

“Yes, please, fuck it inside me, fill me up!”

“Take it!” he shouts, tightening his hands on the back of your thighs. “Take all my seed, fff—” A roar rips from his chest as he snaps his hips forward and unleashes, flooding your womb with fresh cum, leaving part of himself deep within your body. His balls are pressed tight against you, and you can feel them throbbing, unloading all they have into you.

That feeling, of him truly breeding you, unravels you as well—you gasp as a wave washes through you, soft-edged with your weariness but no less blissful and deep. “Oh yes, baby, milk me, milk every drop from your mate, that’s it,” Clark groans as he feels your cunt clamping around his still-throbbing cock.

He grinds himself into you, making sure he’s gotten his cum as deep as possible, before letting go of your thighs and collapsing on top of you—but catches himself with his own flying power so that he’s touching you without crushing you. He’s not making you hover, but you feel weightless anyway, the air around you gone all syrupy as you float through your pleasure.

His lips press to yours, the kiss tender yet intentional, claiming. You let your trembling legs drop to the mattress, and Clark promptly hooks his around them, caging himself around you more thoroughly, but his body is soft, like a lazy cat draped over you. It seems like he might finally have run out of steam, at least for now. You stroke your hands over his back and he lets out a raspy little hum.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs, hoarse.

A little aftershock shivers through your wrung-out body. “Yeah,” you sigh.

Suddenly the door opens, and over Clark's shoulder you can see his superbot Gary entering with a tray. Clark is already wrapped around you, blocking your naked body from view, but he tightens his hold on you and jerks up his head. “Mine!” he snarls. “My mate!”

Gary continues to approach, unperturbed. “I have no interest in your human,” he says, and if he wasn't a robot, you would swear he says it in a weary tone, like he's tired of Clark's nonsense. “I would remind you, sir, that you were the one to ask me to bring in water and food for your companion whenever I heard you cease mating.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment at hearing the nonchalant way he discusses you having sex and at knowing he was listening to it happening, but try to remind yourself that he's just a robot and sex means nothing to him.

Clark seems to be having a little trouble remembering this, because he growls low in his throat, but lets Gary get close enough to set down his tray on a table beside the bed. He doesn't loosen his arms until the robot is gone, and his mind seems to clear a bit once the two of you are alone again. “I can't help it,” he mutters as he sits up enough to grab some water for you, his softened cock finally slipping free of your body.

“I know, honey,” you say as you gingerly sit up too, trying to clench to keep a wet spot from forming beneath you, though it's hopeless. You ignore it and take several long gulps of water, then pick up a bowl of chocolate-studded trail mix. It’s your favorite kind from Trader Joe’s, which you doubt you ever told Clark directly, but which he must have noticed. You give him a big smile. “You’re such a sweetheart for arranging the snacks ahead of time. Though, did you have to tell Gary to listen to us ‘mating’?”

He wrinkles up his nose. “I didn’t put it like that, just told him to come in when we were quiet. He…inferred.”

You laugh. “He’s a smart robot.”

Clark massages your aching hips while you eat, and you let out a groan when his strong thumbs press into your tender muscle.

“You really are alright?” he asks with his brows knit together, and you nod, still chewing. “What else do you need?”

You swallow. “I could use a nap, if that’s possible.”

“I can hold myself off for a few hours, I think.”

You find a dry spot on the bed and settle down together, Clark's warm body spooned up behind you, the two of you fitting together just as perfectly this way as when he was inside you. You’re meant to be in his arms. His fingers lace with yours and spread over the curve of your belly. “Mine,” he whispers.

You’ve been trying to kiss him all night, trying to get him to do something. And while he enjoys the contact, he’s just very very close to being complete with his Review of Related Literature. After one last draft, he’d be done for the weekend.

“Rylandddd.” You wrap your arms around him, working hard to pull his mouth to yours.

This time, he finally relents, letting you taste his lips after hours of effort. And he loves it. Ravishes in how your arms tighten around him, the way you set his laptop aside so you can climb on his lap.

You’ve always been so shy. His sweet, shy girl. Barely initiating, and always blushing when he does. So, when you’re needy like this, he relishes every second of it.

“Not mad?” You’re still on his lips, so your words come out in a mumble. Your boyfriend easily annoys when he’s distracted from his work. You need to make sure he isn’t annoyed at you.

“Surprisingly not.”

It entices you, excites you as you dive back to keep nipping at his lower lip. He likes you like this. Likes how your fingers feel tightening around his biceps to keep him close. Likes how you roll your hips desperately against his clothed cock.

“Naughty girl.” Ryland pulls back, and you’re already trying to chase after his lips, eyes drooped and tunnelvisioned on his mouth. You only whine when you feel him bury his hands on the dip of your hips, halting your movements. “What is it you need, hm?”

“Ryy. Please. Please. Please.”

The words are desperate when they leave your mouth, your fingers transferring from his biceps to his hands on your hips to try and pry them off. You were starting to feel so good.

“Use your words.” He whispers against your ear, rough and raspy and so fucking dirty.

“Ryyyyy.”

You’re still shy, still unable to tell him what you need from him but Ryland wants to hear it so bad. Wants to hear you say you want him to fuck you, to use you.

“Words.”

One of his hands moves to bring your wrists together when you keep trying to pry wordlessly. “Don’t upset me, baby. You’re already on thin ice.”

His free hand traces your mouth, which is slightly open and trying to form the words he wants you to say. He sends a love tap against your cheek, encouraging you to tell him exactly what you need from him.

“Want you.” You whisper, eyes trailing down at his own lips before bringing your attention back to his eyes that are already looking down your loose top. His tongue moves over his lower lip as he drags a finger down your own bottom lip, stretching it out.

He wants nothing more than to shove his fingers in your mouth. “Be specific.”

“Want you to fuck me. Please.”

His hips buck up at the lewdness of your words, at how you’re so desperate for him to fuck you and fill you up. At the sight of your mouth forming those words, the sound of your sweet voice in sharp contrast with the filthy things you’re begging from him.

“You want me to fuck you? You’ll let me have you?”

“Please, please, please, please. Fuck me.”

“Good girl.”

He releases your hands, and it’s instant the way you latch your lips back on his. How you mimic your movements from earlier, trying desperately hard to create friction. How you pull at his shirt, tugging at it to let him know you want him to take it off.

“What did I tell you about using your words?” Ryland moans against your mouth, one finger hooking at the band of your shorts to pull them down your legs.

“Take it off, Ry, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” His shirt is immediately discarded, taking yours with it.

Ryland lets his eyes roam over you for a moment, at the cute matching underwear you’re wearing for him, at how you’re still grinding against him desperately. Almost needy. His cock twitches at the sight of you and your fucked out eyes and your swollen lips from kissing him so harshly a few minutes ago.

And you’re so fucked out that you don’t process how he’s suddenly left the bed, at how he’d pulled you by the legs and dragged you by the foot of the bed, at how he’s hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them down your legs. He’s moving so slow, and you can’t help squirm at his pace. It’s exactly what he wants you to do.

He’s stood there, one hand stroking his hard cock at the sight of your squirming cunt while his other hand blindly fishes out for a condom in his drawer.

You’re getting more and more impatient as he works the condom down his cock, and you’re whining and being such a brat, and Ryland loves it. He loves the breath of relief that leaves your mouth in between your little moans when he finally hovers over you.

One of your hands grip at his arm when he moves to remove his glasses, and you’re shaking your head desperately. “No, no. Keep them on. I want them on.”

“Oh, you want me to keep my glasses?” He smirks, pushing it up his nose as you whimper at the sight of him above you, and how close his cock is from your heat. “What do you say when you want something?”

“Please.”

You’re pulling at his arm, bucking your hip to try and feel him. And you almost moan out when he finally reaches down to grip his cock, when he finally guides himself to press his tip against throbbing cunt. “Yes, yes, yes.”

God, he almost comes at your desperation, almost comes when he pushes himself deeper and you moan out so loud, so pretty. The sounds he’s making as he pushes himself in and out of you makes your cheeks turn pink, makes you wetter, makes you louder. And, the glasses do eventually fall off from how hard he’s fucking you.

“This what you wanted, huh?” His voice is rough, breath hot against your ears, and you can do nothing but repeatedly switch between ‘yes’ and ‘please’.

A very limited vocabulary as you’re so fucked out by the pleasure.

It only encourages him, fucking into you harder as you close your eyes shut at the overwhelming pleasure that’s filling you. You’re pulling at his hair and gripping his back and clawing at him and your hands and mouth can’t behave as he fucks you.

“God, your pussy feels so good around me. Open wider baby, I know you can do that for me. Be a good girl.” He grunts.

Ryland is a loud man during sex, whimpering and moaning into you just as much as you are. “You’re so sexy when you’re needy, baby. Fuuuh. So good.”

He’s still fucking into you, hard and fast. And when his eyes aren’t closed, they’re scanning your pretty face and the way your tits bounce after every thrust.

Your moans start to muffle when he drops his head down to kiss you as he keeps thrusting, keeps fucking you. And you’re so full of pleasure that you’re ill-prepared for the feeling of his other hand reaching down to your clit. The pressure of his length and his fingers together make you come around him, and Ryland whimpers at the way your pussy suddenly clenches around his cock.

“That’s it. That’s it, baby. So pretty and perfect letting me use you like this.”

He quickens his pace, hands gripping at your hips as he fucks himself into you until he finally comes, cock twitching inside of you as his hips stutter. He doesn’t draw out immediately, lets his cock keep filling you up even when you’re both trying to recover.

You’re breathing so heavily. Erratic. And he only pulls out after pressing a sweet kiss on your lips, letting himself drop down beside you on the bed.

arthur’s cerulean eyes snagged to how your hips shimmied as you arranged the dinner, eyelids drooping hooded. his tongue slipped lazily across his upper teeth, catching for a brief moment against a sharp canine before he sucked it back in, gaze utterly devouring you. plated on painted porcelain beside his broad arm resting across the tablecloth was a rich spread, mashed potatoes and juicy meat that had soaked in fresh herbs and vegetables.

he rolled his tattered cuffs up past ropey forearms to burly biceps, allowing you to trace the sight of veiny, hair dappled skin before you moved to pour him a glass of lemonade, fussing over him to ensure he was well fed.

within moments, his ruddy cheeks were stuffed with your cooking, weathered fingers wound tightly around the fork as he mixed the food on his plate. tawny eyelashes fanning low over chiseled cheekbones when his eyes fluttered in pure delight, chewing mouth letting out nothing more than a muffled, appreciative hum that vibrated through his chest as contented rumble.

younger than him by an age that would raise far more than mere questions, one had to wonder, what business did a man like him have beside a doll like you? why a hardened outlaw was sharing a bed with a girl who looked like porcelain? he had seen blood, he had spilled blood, he was a man built from violence, his hands had broken jaws and triggered the guns that populated shallow graves.

you, on the other hand, were born to wear whispering silk and win over rooms with nothing but a glance. you were meant to never know the face that violence wears, huddled beneath his arm in bed, the eiderdown comforter slipping down your tangled, naked bodies, tracing a gentle fingertip across the bullet scar on his shoulder and whispering “why would they do that to you?”

arthur would only close his eyes with shaking head, a lopsided, tired smile breaking his rugged features and curling at lips corner with a tut “beh'cuz the world’s full of bad men, sweetheart” his scarred knuckles descending over your curved hipbone with a slow, stroking caress, chapped lips leaving a featherlight touch against your hairline.

there were no concealing the evidence of his devotion upon your skin, bruises that lingered from the ankle bone and moved an upward patch, mottled hickeys and teeth bites that were sharp enough to make you keen in the way that got him even more hard. they're at your breasts, around sore nipples that get peaky when the dress fabric catches on them, provoking a tiny hiss.

your supple inner thighs, tender skin rendered to aching at even littlest movement, at your plump butt, where he laved a teasing tongue before sinking his fangs in and gnaw. but those are places where only you and him can see, while some are also a warning to other people, graced upon your form.

delicate throat looking mauled but keeping people at distance from trying anything funny, from approaching what's arthur's when he's not close to guard it with ferocity.

even though you squirm in fluster when women and men alike raise their eyebrows at those, you always trace them with slow fingertips when getting ready for bed, sitting by the mirror and shuddering once remembering his every greedy rasp. heart racing with anticipation for his inevitable return, knowing you'll arch for more.

you loved him beyond measure, giving him free rein over your body and space. welcoming him just as he was, even when he arrived with heavy boots caked in thick dirt that ruined your welcome rug, or with fresh blood splattered across the already burgundy collar of his new blouse. carrying the raw, heavy scent of sweat and the unforgiving open road upon his skin, yet it brought you no disgust.

instead, you melted into his every touch, allowing his rough, calloused thumb to press firmly into the hinge of your jaw, tilting your head back to accept the sloppy kisses he teases against your mouth seam. gentle palms flattened to the hard, broad planes that are his back, rippling as you clung to him, mouth close to ruddy ear, moaning arthur's name in a way that made gooseflesh erupt all over his corded forearms.

spine curved into a deliberate, pretty arch, rocking back and impaling yourself further on his gorged cock, as he pulled back until nearly losing the gushing heat around him, then thrusting in again, hips slamming to jolt you, breasts bouncing with the movement.

cunt pulsing around stretching intrusion, swallowing him from root to swollen tip, spongy walls clenching hot and tight, mewling a cry when his hips grounded in deep, slow circles that had your pussy fluttering and tightening, slick sopping.

teeth closing around your skin, tongue running soothing line across the pinched edge as you choked, the tension gathering at the base of your spine and making it rigid, hips rolling in slow, grinding arcs that lose their rhythm to uncontrollable. you tighten your legs around his broad hips, fingers trembling across his scarred shoulderblades and nails digging into the sweat salted skin.

every sound that get's punched out your crumpling lungs by merciless pounds goes straight to his cock, throbbing within your clamping gummy walls. “gonna give ya a babe that looks lak ya, make ya pregnant, would have to stay then” arthur panted against your forehead, ample chest vibrating through with a husky growl, and you whined a fractured “yes, yes arthur, please!”

whole body arching as he railed into your wet, eager heat, cunt snug and walls clamped with needy, wavering pulls that milked his girth and demanded it's release. roughened thumb chafing clumsy circles at your puffy clit, rolling and pinching the nub until you're creaming the flowery linens and coarse tuft at his groin.

he was right there, spilling hot ropes against the rounded lump of your cervix, seed spreading and dribbling in frothed mess between your quaking legs. his pudgy abdomen flexing, warm palms cupping your calves, holding them with immense care. and when you reached out to brush away a sweat drop that beads from his brow, he leaned into the touch, nuzzling your palm with a dazzling smile and a sweet, lingering kiss.

you wriggle when arthur tries to clean you up, face tucked to dewy cunt, licking a fat stripe from your cum daubed hole right to the ass, your fingers scrabbling against his scalp, twisted in umber brown tresses. trying to tug him away, eyes tear glazed with either fluster or utter mortification, cheeks burning hotter than they ever would from the sunburn.

yet he persisted, burly arms bracketing, tongue sweeping deep and tasting his own seed until a violent tremor seized your thighs, clamping together tightly as the sudden rush of your sweet release flooded his mouth with slick. he departed just as the sun dipped into its deep orange hue, casting a golden glow across the meadow and cooling the breeze that caressed your bare legs.

you stood at the threshold, draped only in his light brown tartan shirt, its hem hanging long enough to shadow your thighs, though the sight remained undeniably seductive. his goodbye kisses were agonizingly drawn out, lips lingering over every contour of your face, dragging past the slope of your nose to the curve of your jaw, breath faint with the honey tea you had brewed for him before his departure.

holding his worn hat firmly atop his head so it wouldn't be stolen by the wind, which seemed to howl a desperate plea for him to stay. hand drawing from your waist with heavy reluctance, finally falling limp to his side, fingertips twitching with the tales of your warmth, but he had to go.

it would not be for long, this time. when he returned, carrying a few groceries he knew you would need and a bouquet disheveled beneath his arm, you opened the door with a caution that had never been there before. lake filling the meadow with it's rush, your eyes fluttered round with pure joy as you chirped his name, a sound he had grown so deeply accustomed to.

standing with your palm carefully pressed, as if cupping something precious, right against the curve of your lower belly, which was far more rounded than before. it was not weight, nor was it the result of eating well, it was the life of a child, his child, growing right beneath your heart. you looked up at him with simmering nerves, lips bitten raw, tremors already wormed deep.

“ain't 'unna leave ya now, honey, aah swear” arthur rasped, a sudden lump in his throat scratching sharper than any serrated blade. abandoning everything he had brought, not caring where it lands, he pulled you close to cradle your dainty figure against his chest. broad, heavy palm pressed over yours, squeezing your hand against the small swell of the belly, making you feel safer than you ever had, your forever man.