holland lets you try your first cigarette on his lap. | cw : neighbour!holland x younger!fem reader, dom!holland, dry humping, intox kink, nsfw mdni, title from: wild at heart — lana del rey. ⋆˚࿔ blurb | 1k words ۶ৎ i wrote this while only listening to ldr and you can tell!! anyways, just something so you guys don't starve while i write the longer os!! no beta we die like holland's wife.
you shouldn't be doing this. if your mom knew you lied to her just to see your older neighbor, she’d probably kill you on the spot. but she’s still napping, none the wiser, while you’re perched in holland's lap.
he takes a lazy drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke directly into your face, teasing. you squint your nose, coughing a bit.
“oops,” he says, though the smirk on his face betrays him. “didn't mean to.” he offers you the cigarette, eyebrow quirked in question.
“i told you how to do it, didn't i?” he murmurs, voice low and rough. his breath ghosts over your neck as he leans in, beard tickling your skin. you can’t help but giggle, the scratchy sensation sending sparks down your spine.
he guides the cigarette to your lips with slow intent. “just like this… take a drag,” he whispers. “hold it for a second, only one or two, then let it go. don’t be greedy.”
you nod, wide-eyed and nervous, fingers trembling as they curl around his hand. he notices, and gently squeezes back.
“yeah… that's it,” he coos when you inhale. the ember flares between your lips as smoke fills your mouth. “be a good girl. take another drag,” he coaxes, the tip glowing red as he brings it back to your lips.
you lean in, obeying, inhaling deeper this time, letting the smoke slide into your lungs before slowly puffing it out in a wobbly stream.
a fit of coughs wracks you halfway through, your body curling forward against his chest. tears spring to your eyes and you sputter between gasps.
“ugh— it’s disgusting! i can’t believe you do this for fun.”
holland just laughs, his arms tightening around you as you bury your face in his shoulder. he rubs slow circles on your back, voice thick with amusement.
“did you feel it though?” he murmurs against your ear. “that warm burn all the way down?” his hand slips under your shirt without a warning, one rough palm skating up bare skin, and suddenly that ‘burn’ doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
“i— i think so,” you whisper shakily.
“try again, darling,” he murmurs, bringing the cigarette back up.
you part your lips again, inhaling a larger drag and trying your hardest to hold it. but another fit of sharp coughs takes over. even your eyes blur with tears thanks to the burn in your throat.
holland pulls back slightly to watch you: cheeks hollowed out from the drawl still fresh in memory, eyes watering just a little, hair falling over flushed shoulders.
and god, it’s so damn hot seeing you try something forbidden for him.
you feel his hands start to tug on your hips, lowering your body slowly until you're exactly where he wants you: pressed snugly in his lap, the growing bulge beneath you up against your thigh.
“you look so damn pretty like this,” he growls against your ear before biting down on his own grin. “wanna try again?”
you shake your head automatically, but it's not because of the cigarette. it’s because one of his hands is splayed over your chest, palm pressing just enough to make your breath hitch, while the other digs into your hip, guiding slow, filthy circles of his hips upwards, his growing bulge grinding against the curve of your ass.
a moan slips out before you can stop it, and you bite down on nothing but air.
“h—holland,” you whimper.
“take another drag,” he says lowly, voice edged with playful threat, “or i'll stop.”
your eyes squeeze shut. he’s so mean. but god, you want it too much to say no.
“yeah…” you whisper. “i'll do it. give me.”
he doesn’t let you finish. the cigarette presses between your parted lips again; he lets you take a deep pull even as his hips don’t falter. he’s rocking harder now.
rough denim drags against the thin fabric of your skirt, and without thinking, you push back into him, more demanding than before.
“there,” he groans, satisfied as smoke curls from both of your mouths. “that's my good girl.”
your lips crash against his, smoke mixing between open mouths as you kiss him deep and desperate. nails digging into his shoulder, gripping like you’re holding on for dear life.
you can barely breathe. but god, if this is how it ends? smoke filling your lungs instead of air, you’d be the luckiest girl in heaven.
your thighs quiver, weak from want and oxygen slipping away, muscles tightening with every relentless roll of his hips beneath you. he doesn’t slow down. doesn’t care that your head is spinning or your body is buzzing with sensation and smoke alike, holland just keeps moving, chasing the friction he craves, making sure you feel every inch.
then, he pulls back. lips part with a soft, wet drag as cool air rushes in where smoke once was. you gasp sharply, chest heaving, but all that comes out right after is a broken whine at the loss.
you stare at him through hazy, dazed eyes. you still want more.
“so greedy,” he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the words punctuated by a low, amused chuckle.
you nod instantly; you are greedy. you’re needy. and if anyone is to blame? it's him. he shaped it into you since the day you knocked on his door introducing yourself with innocence glimmering in your eyes.
your hips don’t stop, still rolling back onto him in desperate little circles, even though you were so close to meeting your creator.
he reaches for the bedside table, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray.
“can you do your neighbor a little favor?” he murmurs, lips quirking into a sly grin.
you nod automatically. your head’s too dizzy to question, and your underwear is too wet to care.
“yeah,” you breathe. “anything.”
“get on your knees and show mr. march exactly how useful that mouth can be.”
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