.✦ ݁˖ don’t eat the cashier: deiran, david & viktor
(i will change it from time to time depending on my hyper fixation of the month so dw, im not ignoring reqs abt other fandoms not listed here just can’t write for them)
i’m not gonna write for male readers (only gn or female), character x character, age play, incest and anything else that might make me uncomfortable.
part two of my other fic. i think lane possessed me because i blacked out and this was on my screen. cw: oral (lane receiving), praise and degradation because lane is Lane, its pretty vanilla.
“You’re so wet, baby. You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” Lane murmurs, dragging his fingers through your wet slit.
You suppress a shiver, pushing him down onto his pillows. He lets you, smirking up at you, his eyes gleaming with dirty promises and sin. Rolling your eyes, you slink down his body, determined to fulfill the promise of next time.
“Listen up, pretty.” you whisper lowly, your voice implying that whatever you’re about to do is a threat, “I’m going to make you feel good. And in return, I need you to keep that filthy mouth open. I want to hear all of your noises as they are. Got that?”
“That’s dirty, princess.” Lane shoots back, wiggling his hips from under you.
You scoff and push his legs apart, lowering yourself to his level. You can see his Adam’s apple bob anxiously, and the slightest flicker of apprehension in his eyes. He really could only run his mouth for so long before you shut him up, but you couldn’t do this every time he got annoyed with you. Then he’d never shut up.
You undo his button and hesitate, staring at the increasingly obvious bulge. Then you pull yourself up a little and take the zipper in between your teeth. Lane immediately groans, a raspy “babe” leaving his wet lips.
You don’t respond and instead yank down his underwear too. His cock springs out, already hardened in the chilly air of the room, the tip a soft pink. This time it’s you who swallows hard, mesmerized by him. You reach out and take him into your hands, running your fingers down the skin. Lane shudders beneath you, pupils blown as he stares. He was so warm.
He’s done this before. You know that even though you’d prefer not to. Lane has always been a bragger, but for once he’s just watching you, and it’s unnerving. In your building anxiety you can sense yourself slowing, and so you push those thoughts away and drop your mouth onto his cock.
Lane groans, clamping a hand over his mouth before removing it immediately. You raise a brow, staring up at him. You never thought he’d obey orders so easily. The precum at the tip tastes odd, but it’s so indisputably Lane’s that you want more and more of it. You take him further into your mouth, aching to hear more of his noises. You don’t need to check to know that you’re soaked. Lane’s eyes snap to your hand as it leaves his hip and travels down between your legs, and he actually moans.
Lane tries his best, but he’s barely clinging to his sanity. The woman he loves is working her way down his cock, her mouth is so warm and wet and eager, and she’s so wet just from making him feel good that she’s touching herself. Fuck. He wants you to take all of him down your throat. He wants to fuck you until you both pass out. He wants you to ride him and slap him around and call him pretty. Lane whines at the thought, bucking into your mouth lightly.
Your clumsily trying to fuck yourself with your fingers and you know that Lane knows what you’re doing.
“F-Fuck, princess, shit-” Lane gasps, eyes locked onto your face, his lazy smirk gone in favor of flushed cheeks and his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes as you take him deeper, throat constricting around him as you momentarily gag. Your eyes roll back with ecstasy and that’s when Lane’s lower abdomen tightens.
“Fuck! Princess- Baby, Pretty girl- I’m close-” he groans, voice raspy and wrecked, “Fuck yourself for me, baby, just wait til I get my fingers inside you- I’ll make you feel so good, baby, so good-”
The taste of him floods your mouth and he keeps talking, promising you everything he can possibly do to service you, babbling about how good you feel, about how he can’t wait to make you scream his name. There’s a special sense of vulnerability that comes with being Lane’s, although it’s not quite full vulnerability. The thought makes you take him a little deeper, swallowing down every shot of cum he pumps into your mouth. He’s still twitching when he comes down from his high,
When he gasps and sags against the sheets, you pull away from him with a wet pop. Lane is still looking at you, his chest heaving and flushed red. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, figuring that if anyone could appreciate it, Lane would.
“Fuck, princess.” he groans, dragging a hand down his face as his cock twitches weakly, “You’re gonna make me hard again.”
“Then make good on your promises.” you tell him. His eyes flicker as your hand grabs his thigh. A wolfish grin spreads across his face and it’s like he never came at all.
“If I touched your chest the way you touched mine, I’d be a registered sex offender by now.” Lane smirks.
“Do you seriously feel oppressed right now?” you snort, raising an eyebrow.
“Absolutely,” he continues, “No one cares. This is male suffering.”
You roll your eyes and part your lips, a witty comment just a second away, but…
“So…let me know when it’s my turn to start quality checking your…”
Lane gestures vaguely to your chest, his eyes glued to where your shirt perks up. He stares with absolutely no shame.
The hum of the fluorescent lights above you is loud in your ears as his eyes rake over your body. You’re not stupid. It’s obvious he genuinely thinks you’re attractive, or else he wouldn’t be so stupid about it. Lane shouldn’t be the man lighting a fire in your gut. His stare turns your brain to mush and your head feels woozy, but it shouldn’t. It’s dangerous, and it’s wrong, but his words make you want him to touch you. You know his hands on you would feel good. You shiver slightly at the very thought of it.
Lane notices. He stops running his stupid, infuriating mouth for two seconds, just long enough to register the goosebumps running down the length of your arms. Still, he doesn’t step closer...but he doesn't step away. You hold your breath, and he holds his, eyes latched onto your face rather than your chest.
Pervert.
You’ve never been more aware of your own heartbeat. Is it wrong to enjoy the attention?
Boldly, you step forward and take his hand in your own.
He freezes.
There’s a joke you could make about checking the melons in the produce aisle. You know Lane would make that joke. Or, he would if he wasn’t dead quiet, staring at your hand like you’re a hallucination. It’s satisfying to shut him up.
“If you wanted to hold hands, you could have told me,” he snarks, that infuriating grin spreading across his lips.
Of course, it didn’t last long.
“Do it then,” you shoot back, tilting your chin up at him, “Quality check them, if you want to so bad.”
Ah ha! Watching a red hot blush explode across his face was the highlight of your night. You should play him at his own game more often if it gets you reactions like that.
“You’re not serious,” he barks out a laugh, looking down on you.
It’s condescending.
You snort, yank his hand up, and place it right over your breast.
Lane freezes again, his eyes blown wide as he stares. Great, he’s ogling your chest again.
It’s kind of your fault though.
You don’t regret it.
“Cat got your tongue?” you taunt, pressing his hand firmly to the swell of your breast, “Well? How are they?”
His tongue darts out to licks to lips, wetting his dry mouth. You smirk, convinced you have the upper hand, when-
“Babe,” he groans, his lips curling into a smirk, “You do this with every guy you like?”
“Why would I-” you snap your jaw shut, but it’s too late.
“Oh? So I’m the first? I’m the first guy that gets to touch you like this?” he laughs, almost sounding disbelieving, “That’s dirty, pretty. I would have thought your parents would have raised a lady like you better than that.”
A pause.
“Don’t let the biker do this to you,” Lane steps away, his hand falling from your breast, “Don’t want you to come crying to me if he creeps on you.”
“What a gentleman,” is the only retort you can give.
“I know, right?” he flashes a smirk your way, “By the way, I’d rate them an eight. Let me know if you want me to check on any improvements you make.”
Hot embarrassment rises to your face (which is ridiculous because you just made this man grope you) but before you can say a word, he’s saluting you and sliding out the stockroom door.
