#!! smut
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vikasmama · 3 days ago
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vi loves praise so much she could cum untouched.
“fuck, viii!”
vi loves making you feel good. when she’s between your thighs, her hair matted to her forehead with sweat, thighs clenched so hard around her head that she feels her brain rattle the slightest bit; it is heaven. she loves when she does so good you shudder in her grasp and yank at the hair at the nape of her neck. she loves to know she’s doing good. she moans desperately onto your clit, the calculated movements of her tongue making you throw your head back and soften your grip in her hair. vi briefly parts with you to speak, groaning in tandem with you at the loss of connection.
“mmh- fuck. got you, baby,” she readjusts her big arms hooked under your thighs, pushing her face deeper into your pussy. “gonna take care of you.”
it’s her thing, her purpose, she feels. to provide for the people she loves. to pour all her love into you, her everything. to make you feel so fucking good that your head goes numb.
“yes! god, fuck- you take such good care of me, baby…”
violet whines loud, speeding up her devouring of your cunt. every time you moan she follows. she doesn’t tend to think much about her own pleasure when she’s taking care of you, but shit that feels so good. she wants more, please tell her more.
her legs shuffle and she briefly feels how slick she is in her boxers, groaning more into you. she knows exactly when you’re about to cum before you can even realize, pointing and angling her tongue to flick your clit just how you like. stars begin appearing in your vision, and then you’re fisting the sheets and blabbering out just what she subconsciously needed to hear.
“aah! fuckkk, so fucking good, vi! i’m gonna cum for you, vi- shitshit!”
and as you’re caging her face in, yelling her praises, vi feels such a euphoric rush come over her. you’re cumming together, her fingers digging bruises into your thighs and you know her moans would’ve been way louder if she wasn’t so muffled down there.
hold her after and tell her how amazing she was for you, sweet puppy girl <3
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(men + minors dni!)
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d-z20 · 3 days ago
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More Than You Will Ever Know (NSFW)
Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader
Summary: For most of your time at college, you've been in a relationship with your sugar mommy, Agatha Harkness. Everything is going great except for the fact you are about to graduate and with that comes change
- OR -
What happens when you turn up at her door months later. It's sex, sex happens.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, sugar mommy Agatha with a few grey hairs 😍, sugar baby Reader, established dynamic, Mommy kink, strap riding (R recv), squirting, angst, a little hurt/comfort, both Agatha and Reader are switches, fingering (R recv), oral (both recv), multiple orgasms, soft aftercare
Words: 5.9k
A/N: This probably isn't the fic y'all were expecting when I said I was doing a sugar mommy Agatha post... but I hope you enjoy it anyway my lovelies ;) requested fic
AO3 | Masterlist
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The restaurant you were at was one of those exclusive places with no menu—just a personal chef curating a bespoke experience, each dish a masterpiece plated with precision. You weren’t sure what half the things on your plate were, but Agatha, ever composed, swirled a glass of deep red wine and explained each one with a knowing smirk.
She sat across from you, effortlessly elegant in a dark silk blouse, her silver streaks catching in the dim candlelight. You’d barely sat down before she leaned forward, her fingers brushing over yours, and said, “You look stunning tonight, darling.”
You did, of course, because she’d made sure of it. The dress you wore—a sleek, custom-made piece in a colour that suited your skin perfectly—was her gift. She had it delivered earlier that day, instructing you to wear it to your graduation as well. “Something beautiful for someone extraordinary,” she had hummed as she held it up against your body, assessing the fit before insisting on getting it tailored just a little more.
Throughout dinner, she was her usual indulgent self, ordering the best of everything and ensuring you never had to lift a finger. When the waiter poured more champagne into your flute, she merely tilted her head with amusement and said, “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”
And celebrate she did—showering you with praise between bites of delicacies, her voice rich with something dangerously close to pride.
“I always knew you could do it,” she said, her thumb lazily tracing the stem of her wine glass. “You’re brilliant, and I’ve seen it from the very beginning. Your mind—fuck, it’s a wonder and a privilege to witness. I hope you know that.”
Warmth spread through you, not just from the alcohol but from the way she looked at you—as if you were the only thing worth admiring in this whole damn place. You ducked your head, feeling the heat creep up your neck, but Agatha wasn’t having any of that. She reached across the table, tilting your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet her gaze.
"None of that, baby," she chastised softly. "You’ve worked so hard, and now you're finally here. I am so proud of you."
Your heart squeezed, and before you could even form a response, she was placing a small velvet box in your hand. "Not yet," she hummed when you made to open it, her lips curling in amusement. "Save it for later."
You didn’t press, instead slipping the small box into your bag—another thing Agatha had insisted on buying for you.
And, in this moment, life was perfect.
Heat. Skin against skin. The soft rustle of silk sheets as your body moved against hers, your fingers digging into toned muscle. Agatha beneath you, her hands firm on your hips, guiding you, encouraging you, worshipping you in the way only she knew how. The air was thick with the smell of perfume and sex.
"You take me so well, baby," she rasped, her voice hoarse with want, nails dragging down your spine, leaving trails of pleasure in their wake.
Your head was spinning, pleasure pooling in your stomach, tightening unbearably. She always did this to you—reduced you to nothing but need, left you craving her touch even when she was already giving you everything. And right now, you could feel her inside you, the stretch of silicone filling you so perfectly it had you trembling, your body fluttering around the unyielding length with every slow, deliberate roll of your hips.
"Mommy," you mewled, your voice high and breathless, and Agatha groaned in response, her grip on you tightening.
"That’s right, baby," she purred, voice molten. "Come on, let me hear you. Let me feel you."
A desperate moan left your lips, your thighs shaking as she bucked up into you, her hands guiding your movements in a way that made you dizzy with need. Every stroke had you gasping, the friction deep and deliberate, hitting your g-spot over and over again. But it wasn’t just that—Agatha’s mouth was on you too, hot and wet, her lips closing around your nipple as she sucked, her tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, sending another sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core.
"So fucking perfect," she praised, letting her fingers slide up to cup your jaw, tilting your head down until your lips were only a breath away. "You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you?"
"Y-Yes, Mommy," you gasped, barely coherent, but she swallowed your sounds with a kiss, deep and possessive.
The pressure coiled tighter, impossibly so, your body alight with sensation, every nerve ending sparking under her touch. You could feel another orgasm building, stealing the breath from your lungs, your nails sinking into her shoulders as you chased that final, devastating peak.
"That's it, my love," she groaned, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Cum for me, baby."
And you did. A shattered moan, body arching, the pleasure tearing through you like fire. The intensity was blinding, overwhelming; your entire body tensed, then gave way to the sheer force of your climax. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the pleasure burst free, your thighs trembling violently as you soaked the strap buried deep inside you.
Agatha groaned low, feeling the warmth spread between her legs, the slick mess you had made drenching the harness, the sheets, and her own skin. “Fuck, baby,” she husked, her voice thick with satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as if to steady you. “Look at you... so perfect.”
Your breath came in rapid pants, your limbs weak, your body still wracked with aftershocks. The evidence of your pleasure was undeniable—your arousal staining the sheets beneath you, glistening against Agatha’s stomach just above where the strap had pressed flush against her. She let out a pleased hum, her fingers tracing soothing circles on your back as you collapsed against her, utterly spent.
“There you go, baby,” she whispered, her voice softer now, almost reverent. “You did so well for Mommy.”
Her hands ran slowly, worshipfully, over your spine, grounding you as you shivered against her. She pressed lazy, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, your shoulder, anywhere she could reach, while both of you struggled to catch your breath. The world beyond these walls didn’t exist; there was only the warmth of her embrace, the way she murmured your name like a prayer, the soft hum of contentment vibrating against your skin.
You belonged here. With her. Always.
And yet, you didn’t notice the way her expression shifted, the way her hold tightened just a fraction, as if she were memorising the feel of you, as if she were already preparing to let you go.
The sun dipped below the skyline as you sat on the edge of Agatha’s expansive marble countertop, feeling a familiar weight in the air. Less than twenty-four hours ago, you had been wrapped in her arms, your body trembling with pleasure, her voice thick with praise as she called you perfect. She had spoilt you rotten—an extravagant dinner, a new dress, a reminder that she was proud of you, that she always knew you’d make it. Things had felt so whole, so right.
But tonight? Tonight felt like the cruellest contrast.
Agatha’s penthouse, usually brimming with her presence, warm and commanding, felt cold and distant. She was pacing the living room, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes avoiding yours. There was no teasing smirk, no playful remark about how well you took her the night before. The tension in the air was suffocating, pressing against your chest like a vice.
Finally, she broke the silence with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You’re about to graduate, Y/N,” she began, her voice smooth yet clipped. "I think it's time we stop pretending that this... arrangement... still serves either of us."
You blinked, your stomach plummeting. Just last night, she had held you so tightly, whispering sweet nothings against your skin. And now she was speaking as if the last three and a half years were nothing more than a fleeting indulgence.
"What are you talking about?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the words came out too sharp, too raw.
Her eyes flickered toward you, her lips twisting into a teasing smirk, but it didn’t carry the same warmth it usually did. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, darling. You have a great job lined up and a whole life ahead of you. You don’t need me to be your sugar mommy anymore."
The words stung. You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat, masking it with a hollow laugh. "I don’t need you? Is that what you think?"
"You don’t need a sugar mommy," she corrected, her voice carrying that sharp edge that cut deeper than you wanted to admit. “I’m saying it’s time for you to grow up. To live your life without being bound to anything—or anyone.”
The finality in her words left you breathless. This wasn’t a joke. There was no hint of her usual playful cruelty. 
She really meant it.
“I don’t want that, Agatha,” you said softly, your voice cracking just a little, but your pride wouldn’t let you break. “I’m not ready for it.”
“Oh, I know you’re not,” she replied smoothly, turning away to pour herself a drink. The sound of liquid hitting glass was deafening in the quiet room. “But you’ll be fine. You’ll forget about me and find someone more your speed. Someone young and eager to be your equal, not just someone who's... well, who’s old enough to be your mother.”
A sharp sting bloomed in your chest, a dull, aching wound. Three and a half years down had come down to this. It started as just a simple arrangement—she took care of you financially, and you gave her company and affection in return. But somewhere along the way, something deeper had blossomed between you two, something neither of you had been brave enough to admit. And now she was discarding it like it had never meant anything at all.
She turned back to face you then, and for a brief moment, there was something else in her eyes—something softer, maybe even hesitant. But then it was gone, masked by that familiar smirk, the one she always used when she wanted to hide her vulnerability.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m doing this for you. You don’t need me holding you back. Go out there. Find yourself. It’ll be better for the both of us.”
Your chest was tight, the weight of her words suffocating. “I don’t want anyone else,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I only want you.”
She scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but like I’ve said, you'll get over it.”
You let out a hollow, defeated scoff of your own, staring down at your feet as you willed yourself not to cry. When you finally spoke, your voice was eerily indifferent. “Okay.”
You grabbed your bag, turned on your heel, and stormed out, slamming the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls.
The moment you stepped onto the busy street, the cold air hit you like a slap in the face, but it wasn’t enough to stop the sting behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears, refusing to let the world see you like this.
But when you finally made it back to your apartment, the second the door clicked shut behind you, everything crumbled.
Your bag slipped from your shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud, but you barely noticed as your knees gave out beneath you. You collapsed onto the hardwood, your entire body shaking, the weight of it all crashing down on you at once. The tears burnt as they spilt over, hot and unstoppable, rolling down your cheeks in thick, messy trails.
It wasn’t just crying—it was full-body, gut-wrenching, ugly sobbing. The kind that left your chest aching, your throat raw, and your limbs trembling. It felt like your heart had been shattered, and now it was cutting your hands to shreds as you desperately tried to gather the pieces.
You gasped for breath, curling in on yourself, hands clutching at your arms as if you could physically hold yourself together. But nothing could stop the pain or the gaping void that Agatha had left behind.
Your fingers reached for the armrest of your couch and found the hoodie she had bought for you last month, and you clung to it like a lifeline, burying your face into the fabric that still smelt like her. Just a few weeks ago, you would have never imagined this—never imagined she’d leave you, that she’d end things so cruelly.
You thought it would never end.
But it had.
And as you lay there, curled up on the floor, crying yourself to sleep in a hoodie that smelt like the woman who just broke your heart, you failed to notice how the small velvet box she had given you had slipped from your bag and slid under the couch, out of sight.
The days following Agatha’s decision felt like a blur. You tried to move on, to focus on your future. The job offer you’d received was a great opportunity, and Agatha had made a valid point about your independence. You told yourself this was for the best, that you could do this, that you could build a life outside of her.
But no matter how much you tried, every minute without her felt like a slow death.
Your apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt hollow. The bed was too big and too cold without her beside you. Mornings were the worst—waking up alone, reaching instinctively for her only to be met with empty sheets. You used to wake to the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, the warmth of her body pressed against yours, her voice teasing as she coaxed you into wakefulness with slow kisses and whispered praises. Now, silence stretched endlessly, suffocating in its vastness.
You kept yourself busy, throwing yourself into the final few weeks of college life as graduation loomed closer. You accepted invitations to go out with friends and tried to lose yourself in the crowds, in the laughter, in the distractions, but it never worked. Conversations blurred together, nights out felt dull, and no matter how much you smiled or how much you laughed at someone’s joke, you felt empty. It wasn’t just loneliness. It was Agatha.
You missed her. Desperately.
You missed the sound of her laughter when she was genuinely amused—not the polite, calculated chuckle she gave in social settings, but the real one, the one that made her eyes crinkle and her entire body shake, a soft snort escaping her. You missed the way she would kiss your forehead absentmindedly, as if it were second nature, the way she’d roll her eyes at you but always, always indulge you. You missed the way she touched you, not just in the heat of passion but in the quiet moments—her hand on your lower back as she guided you through a door, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against your thigh as she read, the way she’d brush your hair back just to get a better look at you.
But most of all, you missed the way she saw you.
Because no matter how much success came your way, no matter how proud your professors were, no matter how many congratulatory messages you received, it all felt muted. Distant. Like something was missing, like a shadow had been cast over every achievement. And you knew exactly what it was.
It was Agatha.
She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.
You reckoned she had completely moved on, that she was thriving in your absence. You convinced yourself of it because what other choice did you have? The world wouldn’t let you forget her. She was too deeply woven into it.
Her name popped up in conversations—friends of friends mentioning her in passing, mutual connections keeping her name alive. And then there was social fucking media.
You didn’t follow her, of course. That would’ve been masochistic. But that didn’t stop her from appearing on all of your feeds, no matter the platform—through tagged photos, through shared articles, through snippets of interviews that made their way into your timeline.
She was back in full force, attending galas, closing deals, and commanding every room she stepped into. She was radiant, powerful, and untouchable. The world saw her as she always had been: composed. And it made you sick.
Because if she could move on so effortlessly, why couldn’t you?
It only got worse after graduation.
You should have been happy. You had finally done it—achieved everything you had worked so hard for. Your professors beamed with pride, and your family sent messages filled with love and admiration. Your friends celebrated you, taking you out, making toasts in your name.
And yet, through it all, the joy never felt whole.
Your graduation gown felt wrong without Agatha there to see it. The dress she had bought you clung to your body like a second skin, but instead of making you feel unstoppable, it felt wrong. Hollow. As if the fabric itself had been stripped of its magic, leaving behind nothing but an empty, uncomfortable reminder of what you had lost. What once made you feel desired now only makes you feel abandoned. 
As you stood on that stage, accepting your degree, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd, your heart foolishly hoping, just for a second, that you’d see her there. That she would be watching, pride shining in her eyes, just as she had promised.
But she wasn’t there and that should have been your final sign, the last nail in the coffin.
And yet it wasn’t.
Because you still needed her.
Not for her money, not for the extravagant gifts or the lavish lifestyle. You needed her. Her wit, her sharp tongue, the way she challenged you, pushed you, believed in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. You needed the way she made you feel—cherished, adored, hers.
But she was gone and the world just kept on turning.
It took a few months, but eventually, the truth hit you like a freight train.
You couldn’t move on. You couldn’t picture a future without her. Your job was exciting, sure, but it was nothing compared to what you had with Agatha. The thought of another person touching you, holding you, even kissing you—it felt wrong. You only wanted her.
You had only ever wanted her.
You were cleaning your apartment when you dropped a pen and it had rolled beneath the couch, disappearing into the shadows. With a huff, you crouched down, reaching blindly, fingers brushing against something soft. Velvet.
Your breath caught in your throat.
The box.
You pulled it out slowly, heart hammering in your chest. The moment you saw it, the memories rushed back; the dinner, the way Agatha had smiled at you with something unreadable in her eyes when she handed it over, the way she told you not to open it yet.
You swallowed hard and flipped the lid open.
Inside sat the most breathtaking ring. It was perfect. A piece so intricate and unmistakably you that it stole the air from your lungs.
Agatha had listened. She had remembered.
You had mentioned it once, maybe twice, in passing. About how you could never find anything quite right, how everything in stores always felt too impersonal, too generic. And yet, here it was. Commissioned. Designed just for you.
Your fingers trembled as you lifted it from the box, your eyes catching on the engraving along the inside.
"More than you will ever know."
Your breath hitched.
What did it mean? More than you would ever know… what? That she cared for you more than you realised? That she—
Your heart surged and shattered all over again.
How could she give you this and then break things off a day later?
It didn’t make sense.
And suddenly, you had to see her.
You barely remembered throwing on a coat, stuffing the box into your pocket, and hailing a cab. The moment you arrived at her building, you asked the concierge not to alert her. The doorman, who knew you after the countless times you came here for Agatha, hesitated before nodding, letting you up without question.
Your pulse was deafening as you knocked loudly on her door.
The seconds stretched unbearably.
And then—
The door swung open, revealing Agatha in silk loungewear, her hair in soft waves, her expression unreadable.
She was poised as always, but something was different.
Her eyes were tired. The dark circles beneath them barely concealed, her sharp features softer than you remembered. And suddenly, you wondered, had she actually moved on? Or was she just keeping up appearances?
Her lips curled into a familiar smirk, but there was no bite to it this time. No amusement.
"You look like hell, Y/N," she noted, voice unexpectedly soft.
You blinked, realising only now that fresh tears had fallen from your eyes on the way up to her apartment.
"Thanks," you replied, forcing a humourless smile. Your throat tightened. "I’ve missed you."
Agatha hesitated. Her gaze flickered over your face, searching, but for what, you weren’t sure.
"I thought I told you to move on," she said, voice quieter this time.
"I can’t," you confessed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
She didn’t stop you.
"I’ve tried. You’re all I want, Agatha. I don’t need anyone else, and I don’t want to."
She sighed, crossing her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve in that way she always did when she was thinking too much. "This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be, you know."
Her voice was weary, laced with something close to regret.
"You’re supposed to live your life. You deserve someone who can give you what I can’t–"
"You give me everything," you butt in.
The words left you without hesitation, your feet carrying you closer, your heart pounding as your fingers brushed against the silk of her robe. "I don’t need anything else. I never did."
Her eyes darkened.
The breath between you was charged, heavy, thick with something you both had been suppressing for far too long.
"Y/N, don’t say things you don’t mean," she whispered, but her voice wavered. "I’m not going to–"
But she didn’t get a chance to finish. You leaned in, and the moment your lips met, the world shattered.
She gasped softly, just before her hands found your waist, pulling you flush against her. The kiss was desperate, urgent, and needy. A collision of everything unspoken between you.
Agatha responded immediately, claiming your mouth with a hunger that sent a rush of heat straight to your core.
"Fuck," she breathed against your lips before kissing you deeper, her grip tightening, pulling you impossibly close. "You’re going to be the death of me."
Your only response was a soft whimper, fingers tangling in her hair as you pressed yourself against her, already drunk on the feeling of her after so long apart.
"I missed you," you murmured between kisses, hands slipping under the robe, palms pressing against her warm, bare skin. "I missed you so much."
Agatha groaned, walking you back toward the bedroom.
"Show me how much."
The second your back hit the bed, Agatha was on top of you, mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone. She tugged impatiently at your shirt, and you helped her strip it away before her hands slid down, claiming you as if she never wanted to let go again.
Your legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as she kissed down your body, teasing, tasting, until all you could do was whimper and beg.
"Mommy," you moaned, arching beneath her as her mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before her tongue soothed the sting.
She groaned at the sound of the title slipping from your lips, her fingers gripping your hips, keeping you exactly where she wanted you.
"That’s right, baby," she murmured, voice dripping with want. "Let me take care of you. Let me remind you exactly who you belong to."
You gasped as her hands roamed lower, her touch setting every nerve in your body alight.
But before she could go further, your fingers curled around her wrist, stopping her.
Agatha’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked up at you, lips parted, eyes burning with desire but shadowed with something else.
"Why did you give me the ring?" You asked, your voice a whisper, fragile but demanding.
She stilled.
Her breath slowed.
For a long moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze searching yours as if trying to decide whether to run or to finally give in.
You swallowed hard and continued.
"You had it made just for me. You knew exactly what I wanted before I even knew myself. And then you gave it to me, only to leave the next day."
A crack formed in her carefully constructed mask.
"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," Agatha admitted finally, voice raw. "I thought I was doing the right thing."
"By breaking my heart?"
Her jaw tensed. "By letting you go before I ruined you. Before I kept you."
Your fingers tightened around her wrist. "I wanted to be kept."
Her eyes flickered with pain, but before she could protest, you reached into the pocket of your discarded coat and pulled out the small velvet box.
You flipped it open between you, revealing the ring—the proof that she had always known you, had always loved you, even if she had never said the words.
"Then tell me what it means," you whispered.
Her throat bobbed as she looked at the engraving.
"More than you will ever know."
Agatha exhaled sharply and sat up, running a hand through her tousled hair. 
"It means..." she hesitated, then shook her head with a self-deprecating chuckle. "It means I’m a coward."
You frowned, shifting onto your side to face her fully. "Agatha–"
She cut you off with a sigh, her fingers ghosting over your wrist, like she needed to touch you to ground herself. "I was going to explain it all that night. Before I—before I convinced myself you were better off without me." She scoffed lightly, as if irritated at her own foolishness. "I thought pushing you away would make it easier for you to move on. That it would be easier for me."
Your breath caught. "And was it?"
Her gaze softened, and she gave you a small, sad smile. "No. It was hell."
Something in your chest cracked wide open. You reached for her hand, lacing your fingers together, grounding yourself in her warmth. "What does the engraving mean?" You ask again.
She let out a breath like she had been holding it for months. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, she said the words you had been waiting for all along.
"It meant... it means I love you, Y/N." She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I love you more than you will ever know. I should have said it a long time ago, but I didn’t know how. So I put it in a gift instead, hoping you’d understand without me having to say it."
Your chest ached, but this time, it wasn’t just pain. It was overwhelming, all-consuming relief.
"I love you too."
Agatha’s breath caught.
"Say it again," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
You sat up, reaching for her, cupping her face between your hands.
"I love you, Agatha. I never stopped. I never could."
The tension in her body melted as she exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch.
Then she kissed you again.
This time, it wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed or frantic.
It was slow. Intentional. Reverent.
Agatha laid you back down with deliberate care, her hands trailing over your body like she was memorising you all over again. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered "mine" against your skin was a promise.
The rest of your clothes were shed in a haze of need, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor drowned out by breathless moans and desperate hands mapping out familiar territory. Agatha took her time with you first, pinning you beneath her as she trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your body, her tongue flicking over sensitive skin, her fingers following in its wake. When she finally dipped lower, parting your thighs with a knowing smirk. She took you apart with practiced ease—driving you to the brink again and again until you were a trembling, pleading mess beneath her.
But you wouldn’t let her have all the control tonight. With a sudden shift, you flipped her onto her back, straddling her hips, drinking in the sight of her flushed and breathless. You kissed like you wanted to drown in her, dragging your tongue down the column of her throat, over the swell of her breasts, sucking marks into her skin, and staking your claim the way she always had with you. 
And when you finally settled between her legs, when you pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and felt her shudder beneath you, you didn’t tease; you devoured. The taste of her, the sound of her moans, the way her fingers twisted into your hair as she cried out your name—it was everything, and you never wanted to stop.
Agatha’s hands tightened in your hair, holding you in place as she rolled her hips, grinding up against your mouth, chasing her release with unrestrained need. She was completely lost in the sensation, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps, her thighs trembling around your head. 
"Just like that—fuck—don’t stop, baby," she groaned, throwing her head back as her body tensed. And then she shattered, her orgasm hitting her in waves, her grip tightening as she rode it out against your tongue, moaning your name like a prayer.
Agatha was wrecked by the time you pulled away, her chest heaving, her lips parted as she reached for you, pulling you back into a bruising kiss. "You’re insatiable," she panted, her nails raking down your back. 
"And you love it," you teased, grinning against her lips. 
She flipped you once more, settling herself over you with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I do. But  now it’s my turn again.” She trailed her lips down your neck, across your collarbone, then lower, nipping and sucking at your chest, your stomach, your thighs—leaving her marks all over you. 
Agatha hovered over your dripping cunt, her hands trailing possessively over your thighs, making you tremble, your body taut with anticipation. She took her time, lips and tongue teasing along the sensitive skin, her breath warm as she moaned something low and indulgent against you. The first slow drag of her tongue had you gasping, fingers fisting in her hair, and she hummed in approval, pressing deeper, savouring every reaction.
Her tongue worked you over with aching precision, lapping and circling before closing around your sensitive clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure. The pleasure was almost too much, the heat pooling in your stomach threatening to spill over as she pressed her fingers inside, curling them perfectly to have you crying out. Every movement was deliberate—slow and deep, then quick and teasing, keeping you on the edge but never quite letting you fall. 
Meanwhile, you could hear the subtle, desperate rhythm of her own hips grinding down against the mattress, a quiet moan slipping from her lips as she lost herself in you, the friction bringing her closer and closer.
"You're shaking, baby," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction as she glanced up, her chin glistening, her expression utterly wrecked. "You gonna fall apart for me?" 
She didn’t wait for an answer, just sealed her mouth around you again, her fingers pressing deeper, relentlessly coaxing you toward that inevitable bliss. And then she gasped against you, her body tensing as she shuddered, her own release crashing over her from the way she had been grinding down against the bed. 
The realisation that Agatha was cumming while fucking you sent you spiralling, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that left you gasping, back arching as a broken moan spilt from your lips. She groaned at the feeling of you coming undone, drinking in every last wave of pleasure before finally pulling away, her hands smoothing over your shaking thighs, her own body still trembling as she pressed one last lingering kiss against your oversensitive core, a satisfied smirk curving her lips.
Agatha collapsed against you, her breath warm against your skin as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, both too lost in the haze of pleasure and the weight of everything that had led to this—every moment spent apart, every unspoken feeling, every stubborn refusal to admit what had always been so painfully obvious.
You carded your fingers through her damp hair, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, letting the steady rhythm of your heartbeats fill the silence. Agatha exhaled slowly, her hands smoothing over your sides, grounding herself in the feel of you, as if she still wasn’t convinced this was real. 
Without a word, Agatha stood, her movements graceful and purposeful as she left the room for a brief moment. You could hear the sound of water running in the distance, the soft splash of it filling the silence before she returned. She didn’t need to say anything; the warmth in her eyes, the gentle press of her lips against your temple, told you everything.
She guided you to the enormous, luxurious bath—spanning the width of the penthouse’s bathroom—an almost surreal oasis of warmth and comfort. The water was a perfect temperature, fragrant with oils and salts, designed to soothe the soul. She lowered herself into the tub first, pulling you into her arms as if you were weightless, holding you close.
The space around you was immense, but it felt like it was just the two of you in this intimate world. Her fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, soothing the tension in your muscles as she softly kissed your shoulder, your neck—anywhere her lips could find. Each tender touch seemed to speak of something deeper, an unspoken vow of care that settled around you like the warm water.
You let out a contented sigh, resting your head against her chest as she kept you in her embrace, the steady rhythm of her breathing grounding you. Your hand lazily traced over her skin, lost in the softness of her touch, the comfort of her presence.
“You’re not leaving this time,” you murmured, the words more of a gentle plea than a statement. Agatha’s voice was soft but unwavering as she kissed your forehead, her arms tightening around you, pulling you even closer.
“Never again,” she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m exactly where I belong.”
And in that moment, with the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub and the soft warmth of her embrace surrounding you, you knew—this time, she meant it.
-----
this fic had been teetering on the edge of my imagination for a while but I got a sudden burst of inspiration after daydreaming about it all day—lemme know what y'all thought :D
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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @jujuu23 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19
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barnacles34 · 2 days ago
Text
Bells and Whistles (Professional Hazard pt.2)
Karina x Male Reader
18+
Tumblr media
It's three days after that beautiful night. Still in Rome.
The voicemail plays in the quiet of her bedroom. First: silence. Then a sharp intake of breath that makes your pulse jump. 
Your thumb hovers over the phone as her voice breaks into those familiar wet sounds that have been haunting you all afternoon.
'If you play that one more time—'
'Shh. This is art.'
She's burrowed in her fortress of quilts, only eyes visible over the edge. A paperback lies abandoned by her hip.
'Delete it.' But her voice has gone soft around the edges.
'Not a chance.' You take your time with your shoes. Let her watch the deliberate movements. 'This is better than your debut song—and you know how much I love that song.’'
'You're awful.' The quilt slips as she shifts. 'I was desperate.'
'Were you?' You tap the phone, find that specific moment where her voice catches. 'Tell me about desperate.'
Her sock-covered foot sneaks out, hooks behind your knee. Tugs. 'Twenty minutes for milk. Who takes twenty minutes for milk?'
'Someone wearing very expensive, very tight jeans.'
'Someone being cruel.'
You catch her ankle mid-retreat. The quilt falls away, reveals cotton shorts still damp from earlier. Your thumb finds the arch of her foot, presses. She makes that sound again—the one from the voicemail.
'Cruel?' Your fingers trace higher. 'I'm not the one sending pornographic voicemails in the middle of the day.'
'I didn't—' She breaks off as your hand slides up her calf.
'No?' You hit play again. Her recorded gasp fills the room. 'What would you call this then?'
She bites her knuckle. You replace it with your thumb, let her teeth graze the pad.
'That noise you made,' you murmur. 'Right at the end. Makes me feel invincible.'
'Yeah?' Her tongue darts out, tastes salt.
'Like I could do anything. Find Atlantis. Solve world peace.' You brush her temple with your lips. 'Handle two of you.'
She snorts, shoves at your chest. 'You can barely handle one.'
'Want to test that theory?'
The laughter dies in her throat as your palm finds her inner thigh. Heat blooms under cotton.
'Stay.' Her fingers twist in your shirt like anchors. 'I'll send more. A dozen. Two dozen.'
'Greedy girl.'
Her eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Your fault.'
When you kiss her, she melts like she's been waiting all day.
Her tongue maps the ridges of your teeth, memorizing territory she already knows by heart.
‘Cheater,’ she gasps when you pinch the clasp of her bra.
‘Architect.’
Her shorts fall. The quilt tangles around her hips. She arches when your mouth finds her neck. Whimpers when your teeth follow.
‘Still deleting it.’ She breathes.
‘Try.’
You hit playback again. Her moan swells—raw, unfiltered—as your fingers slide into her.
‘Fuck.’ Her head thrashes. ‘That’s—’
‘—Proof.’ You curl your fingers. ‘You’re my religion.’
She chokes on a laugh. A sob. Her hips stutter. You drink the sounds from her lips. Let her nails carve half-moons into your shoulders.
Later, when she’s boneless and blinking up at you, she traces your collarbone.
‘Twelve voicemails,’ she yawns.
‘Thirteen.’
‘Why thirteen?’
You press her palm to your chest. Let her feel the gallop. ‘One for every time I died at this very second.’
She stills.
Her teeth flash. Dangerous. Devoted. ‘Gladly.’
Your fingers move lazy. Slow. Dragging out every twitch, every choked gasp. She arches into your hand, sweat gluing her bangs to her temples.
‘Still… deleting it.’ She pants, hips circling.
‘Try harder.’ You crook your fingers. Watch her back bow.
Her moan syncs with the recording still playing softly nearby—a stereo echo of need. You drink the sound. Memorize the way her throat flutters.
It’s pulsing, it’s so wet and hot. Sucking in your fingers like quicksand.
‘You’re mean.’ She whines.
‘Mean?’ Your thumb swipes. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’
The voicemail crackles: “—can’t sleep, can’t think, just… please—”
You smirk. Kiss her inner thigh. Salt and jasmine. Her hips jerk.
‘No—wait—’ Her hand fists your hair. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull. Trembles.
You nuzzle the damp cotton. ‘Scared?’
‘Never.’
Her shorts peel away. You linger—inhale her, lips hovering. She whimpers.
You chuckle. ‘Even your pussy smells like jasmine.’
‘Please.’
The first lick is a tease. A glancing blow. She curses. The second? A vow.
You map her with your tongue—slow, reverent. Learn the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp your ears. The angle that steals her words. She’s wildfire in your mouth.
‘There—oh god, there—’
You double down. Fingers curl inside her. Thumb presses just so.
Her scream is raw. Beautiful. The quilt soaks. You don’t let up—suck gently as she shakes, drag your tongue through every pulse until she’s clawing the sheets.
Her juices quicken, a pungent musk of sex that’s just pure fucking sin—and you’re sucking it up like a thirsty dog.
Your tongue drags a slow circle around her clit—not touching it. Just tracing the swollen bud through her folds. She whines, thighs tensing.
‘Tease.’
‘Worshipper.’ you correct.
Her hips lift. You press her back down with a palm to her stomach. Feel the muscles flutter, feel the soft cream-like softness of her beautiful midriff.
First contact: a glancing lick. Just the tip of your tongue skating over her clit. She gasps. You catalog the sound—high, sharp, yours.
‘Again.’ She breathes.
You oblige. Slower this time. Let your tongue flatten, drag wet heat across her, bury your nose into her pelvis. Her fingers knot in the sheets.
‘Good?’
‘More.’
You hum. Vibration ripples through her. She jerks.
‘Easy,’ you murmur against her. ‘Let me learn you.’
Your thumbs part her folds. Expose her fully—glistening, flushed, pulse visible in the throb of her clit. You blow gently. Watch her clench, flesh constricting.
‘Cruel—’ A high moan escapes her.
‘Thorough.’
The first proper lick steals her voice. You start slow. Broad strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her tang. Her thighs quiver.
‘There,’ she hisses when your tongue flicks her clit. ‘God, there—’
You zero in. Flick. Flick. Steady rhythm. Her breath hitches.
‘Don’t stop—don’t—’
You switch tactics—suck gently. Her back arches.
‘Yes—like—ah—’
Her clit hardens under your tongue. You trace circles around it, avoiding direct contact. She sobs.
‘Please—’
You reward her: firm pressure, rapid flicks. Her hips stutter. You pin her down, red blooming around the hold you have over her stomach—relentless.
‘Close—I’m close—’
You slide two fingers inside. Curl. Her walls clamp.
‘Fuck—fuck—’
Her clit pulses under your tongue. You suck harder.
She shatters.
A broken scream. Hips grinding against your face. You ride her through it—tongue gentling, fingers stilling.
‘Too much—’
You kiss her inner thigh. Two more kisses along the outer lips. Taste salt. ‘Beautiful.’
She trembles. ‘Again.’
Her thighs tremble as she nudges you onto your back. The mattress dips under her weight. You reach to touch her face—always reaching—but she catches your wrist. Presses it to the pillow. 
Her grip isn’t firm. A request, not a demand.
‘Let me,’ she murmurs.
You nod.
Her lips start at your collarbone—a closed-mouth kiss that lingers. She exhales warm breath against the hollow of your throat. You swallow. She smiles against your skin.
Another kiss. Lower. The swell of your pectoral. The scar from that cat. Her tongue traces the jagged edge. You hiss.
The way her thick hair travels along your chest tickles. The soothing aroma of her shampoo almost paralyzing you.
Her teeth graze your nipple. Bite down just enough to make your hips jerk. The denim of your jeans rasps against her bare thighs.
‘Off,’ she says.
‘What’s the magic word?’
Her eyes flick up. Dark. Glossy with submission. ‘Please.’
You sit up to shuck your jeans. She pushes you back down. ‘Let me.’
Her fingers fumble with your belt. The leather slips. She growls—a sound you’ve only heard when she lost at Mario Kart the day before. You bite your cheek. Laughter threatens release.
‘Shut up.’
‘Didn’t say anything.’
The belt clatters to the floor. Your boxers follow. Cool air hits your cock. Her breath follows—warm, uneven.
‘Look at me,’ you say.
She does. Pupils blown. Lips parted. A string of saliva connects her tongue to her lower lip.
‘Beautiful,’ you murmur.
She flushes. Looks away.
Your thumb hooks her chin. ‘Eyes here, sweetheart.’
A whimper escapes her. She obeys.
The first lick is tentative. A kitten testing cream. Her tongue swipes the underside of your cock. Your abs clench in response.
‘Jimin—’
‘Shh.’
Her lips wrap the head. Suck gently. Your groan claws its way out. She moans in response—vibration traveling straight to your spine.
Fuck.
Her hand wraps your shaft. Strokes in time with her mouth. Too dry. Too rough. Perfection.
‘Condom?’ she mumbles around you, the slightest gap allowed for conversation.
‘Later.’
She hums. The sound liquefies your bones.
And she continues. Swollen lips wrapped around your length, tongue slightly pushing on the underside.
Her free hand drifts between her legs. You catch it.
‘Focus.’
‘Meanie.’
You guide her head back down. ‘Earn it.’
She takes you deeper. Smoldering eye contact as she inches closer to the hilt, whereupon her nose almost makes contact with your pelvic bone. Gags. Pulls off. Coughs.
Strings of thick spit follow her mouth as she wipes.
‘Okay?’
‘Perfect.’
She tries again. Slower. Breathing through her nose. Her throat opens. Takes you to the root this time. Tears spill.
You bite down on your lip.
Her nails dig into your thighs. Sting. Ground. 
She finds a rhythm—suck, release, swirl. Strings of spit travel down your length. Where her thumb massages your balls with the spit. Your vision blurs.
Amidst it all, she’s staring into you—daring you to force her down on your cock. Begging, even.
‘Close,’ you warn.
She pulls off. Strokes you fast. ‘Come.’
You arch. ‘Where?’
Her tongue darts out. Catches the first pearl of cum. ‘Everywhere.’
The orgasm rips through you. Strips you raw. You spill across her lips, her chin, the swell of her breasts. She licks her lips. Grins.
‘Good?’
‘Amazing.’
She crawls up your body. Fully swallowing the load, then pressing a light kiss on your cheek.
Her mouth lingers on your cheekbone—wet, warm. The kiss sticks when she pulls back. Milky streaks still glisten between her breasts. You thumb one. She shivers.
‘Messy,’ you murmur.
‘Yours.’
Her nipples graze your chest as she straddles you. Heat blooms where skin meets skin. You palm her ribs. Feel the rabbit-quick thrum beneath.
Her hips lift. Your cock nudges her entrance. Slick. Swollen. You hold still. Make her work for it.
‘Please.’ She breathes, sinking down.
Heat swallows you. Tight. Quivering. You bite your tongue. Blood blooms.
She moves like water—slow swirls, thighs trembling. Her breasts sway. You catch one. Lick the salt from its curve.
‘Look at me.’
She doesn’t. Eyes screwed shut. Hair plastered to her neck. Hot and heavy with arousal.
You pinch her nipple. Gentle. Cruel. ‘Look.’
She whimpers. Lashes lift. Pupils black as oil spills.
‘Good girl.’
She whimpers. Clenches. Your fingers dig into her hips.
‘Faster.’
‘Make me.’
You buck up. She gasps. Nails score your chest.
‘Cheat—’
Her rhythm fractures. Hips stuttering. You let her chase it—the sweet friction, the burn. Her moans pitch higher.
‘Close—I’m close—,’ she whimpers.
You still her hips. ‘Wait.’
She sobs. ‘Please—’
‘Say it.’
Your thumb finds her clit. Circles.
She breaks. ‘Yours. Always yours.’
You release her. Let her slam down. Take what she needs.
Her orgasm rips through both of you—convulsions, bitten-off cries. Her rhythmic roll of hips turns frenzied. You let her ride it. Milk every pulse. 
After all, you’re obsessed—crazy about her.
When she collapses, you roll her over. Press into the sweat-slick hollow of her back.
‘Again.’
She shakes her head. Weak.
You bite her shoulder. ‘Again.’
Her body opens. Always opens. You grip your cock along her swollen slit, the sticky wetness almost  drives you mad. Regardless, you fuck her slow this time. 
Deep. Dragging each thrust. Feeling how her pussy drags on your cock, slick wet sounds singing into your ears.
‘Feel it?’
She nods. Pillow muffling her whines.
Your hand slides under. Cups her breast. Squeezes.
You curl over her. Chest to heaving back. Lips to her ear.
​​Her lips linger at your ear—sticky with confession. You taste salt when she pulls away. The room smells of sex and the spilt vanilla candle she lit hours ago, wax pooling like liquid amber.
She softly guides your hand to her throat. Your thumb finds the pulse. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A trapped bird.
"Harder," she whispers.
You tighten. Feel her swallow.
Her breasts press against your chest as she arches, nipples pebbling against your scars. The heat between her legs slicks your thigh.
"Inside.’
You flip her. Sheets snag her knees. She whines. You bite the sound from her lips.
Her hands fist the headboard. You press into her slow. Molten velvet. Her moan fractures.
‘Eyes.’
She obeys. Always obeys.
You move. Deliberate. Each thrust a psalm. Her breasts sway—heavy, flushed. You palm one. Squeeze. Milk-white skin blooms red.
‘More—’
‘Quiet.’
She bites her wrist. You replace it with your fingers.
‘Sing for me.’
Her cry splinters the air. You swallow it. Fuck her deeper.
The headboard knocks the wall. Syncopated. Her ankles lock at your waist. Pull. Beg.
‘Who?’ you demand.
‘Yours.’
‘Louder.’
‘Yours~!’
The word still ringing when you slam into her. No finesse. Piston hips. Her breasts slap your chest—heat and sweat and jasmine.
She chokes. Nails rake your back. ‘Too—’
‘Take it.’
Her legs lock. Ankles digging into your behind. You fuck her like proving a point. Jackhammer rhythm. Headboard cracks plaster.
Dust rains down as you drag her hips back, slam into her harder. No rhythm now—just ruin.
She chokes on a scream, face mashed into the quilt, ass raised like an offering.
Your grip bruises her waist, fingers denting flesh as you split her open again. Again. Again and again. 
You can feel your balls hit the wetness of her pussy, smacking wet sounds onto her slit.
‘Take it.’ You grind deeper, pelvis punishing her clit with each thrust. Her thighs quiver, slick with sweat and your earlier release. ‘Wanted me rough? Here.’
She sobs into the mattress, voice shredded. ‘T-too—’
‘You don’t get to.’ You fist her hair, yank her head back. Her spine bows, throat exposed. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’
A nod. A whimper.
You snarl, slamming home. The wet slap of skin-on-skin drowns her cries. Her nails claw the sheets, nearly ripping threads. You lean over her, teeth scoring her shoulder. 
Her scream cracks as you pin her wrists, pound into her like you’re exorcising ghosts.
The bed groans. Her breasts sway, nipples raw from your mouth. She’s so tight, clenching around your cock like she’s trying to keep you trapped inside.
‘Gonna break you,’ you rasp, thumb digging into her asshole.
She shrieks, back arching. ‘P-please—’
‘Please what?’
‘Ruin me—’
You do. Hips pistoning, sweat stinging the bite marks on her neck. You don’t stop—can’t stop—driving into her convulsions until your vision whites out.
She sobs. High. Broken. ‘There there there~!’
Your thumb finds her clit. Grind. Her scream lodges in your teeth.
‘Come.’
‘Can’t—can’t—’
You bite her shoulder. ‘Come.’
She shatters. Walls milking. Clenching. Begging without words.
You drill deeper. Tip hitting that spongy ache. Her eyes roll back.
‘Gonna fill you,’ you snarl.
‘Please please—’
One last thrust. Hilt-deep.
You rupture.
Whiteout. Earthquake hips. Flood her until your knees buckle.
She collapses into the fault line you’ve carved. Whimpers when you pull out. Spend drips down her thigh.
Her finger swipes it—all that cumulative spend coupled along her swollen cunt. Lets the slurry couple along her tongue.
‘I love how you taste.’
‘God. You’re too fucking perfect.’ You drop down onto her. Cuddling.
Moonlight spills through the curtains. She's tucked against you, all soft edges now.
'You okay?' Your fingers ghost over her shoulder.
'Mm.' A pause. 'Was it too much?'
'Never.'
'But I was...' She shifts slightly. 'I got carried away.'
'Hey.' You tilt her chin up. 'That's what I love about you.'
'What? Being a mess?'
'Being real.'
She burrows closer. 'Still. Sorry if I—'
'Don't you dare apologize.'
'But—'
'Want some water?'
'If you move, I'll write a very detailed exposé about you.'
'About what? My green tea addiction?'
'Chapter One: The Man Who Chose Hydration Over Cuddles.'
'Riveting.'
'Mm. I'll even include citations.'
Your fingers trace idle patterns on her arm. 'What's Chapter Two?'
'Our future kids being haunted by your tea collection.'
'Kids, huh?'
'Tiny humans who'll only drink iced americanos.'
'In winter? That's grounds for custody battle.'
She pinches your side. 'They'll be perfect.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah. Little artists with their mom's smile and their dad's terrible sense of humor.'
'My humor is exquisite.'
'You'll teach them to be insufferable.'
'And you'll teach them to be beautiful.'
She props herself up. Hair mussed, eyes soft. 'Where should we live?'
'Somewhere quiet. With big windows.'
'And a garden?'
'For your flowers and my tea herbs.'
'Domestic.' She wrinkles her nose. 'I like it.'
You pull her closer. 'We'll need a library.'
'For bedtime stories?'
'And quiet mornings.'
'With a reading nook?'
'Big enough for three.'
'Four,' she corrects. 'Maybe five.'
'Ambitious.'
She kisses your jaw. 'Thought you could handle anything.'
'Try me.'
'Five kids. All girls. All with my stubbornness.'
'Terrifying.'
'But worth it.'
You thread fingers through her hair. 'Worth everything.'
'Even giving up your tea collection?'
'Now you're pushing it.'
She laughs, soft and real. 'I'll let you keep the fancy cups.'
'Generous.'
'I know.' She yawns. 'I'm a catch.'
'The biggest.'
Her fingers trail your chest. 'Hey.'
'Mm?'
'Think our kids will be tall?'
'With your genes? Doubtful.'
She bites your shoulder. 'I'm average height.'
'For a garden gnome.'
'For a normal person.’ She groans.
‘—Who has been crushed ever so slightly by a hydraulic press.’
‘Ugh.’ She falls back into the bed.
‘We need a shower.’
She huffs. ‘No, I need a shower.’
‘Hm?’
‘I know what you’re gonna do: act like it’s a shower then nail me for the next half-hour in there.’
‘Oh?’
‘Don’t oh me. My legs are still sore from the cumulative effects of the past 3 days’
'Fine.' You pull her closer. 'Five more minutes.'
'Five turns into fifty with you.'
'Can you blame me?'
She traces patterns on your chest. 'I have to be at the airport by six.'
'Skip it.'
'Right. I'll just tell my company I found something better to do.'
'Like?'
'Like getting ravished by a journalist with no self-control.'
'Sounds reasonable to me.'
Her laugh is soft. Sad. 'I can’t let go of this.'
'This?'
'You.' She props herself up. 'Your stupid jokes. Your hands. The way you look at me like I'm...'
Your fingers find her hair. 'How long?'
'A week. Maybe two.'
'I'll die.'
'Drama queen.'
'No, actually die. Waste away. They'll write articles: Local Writer Perishes From Karina Deficiency.'
She smacks your chest. 'Stop.'
'My last words will be "if only she'd stayed one more day."'
'I hate you.'
'You love me.'
'Yeah.' She kisses your jaw. 'That's the problem.'
She sits up suddenly. 'Wait. What if—'
'What if?'
'My apartment in Seoul has a separate entrance. Service elevator.' The words tumble out. 'Nobody uses it except staff. And I have this office, connected to my room—'
'Jimin.'
'—could set up a desk there. Get you one of those fancy writing chairs. And there's this cafe nearby, really private, the owner's super discrete—'
You prop yourself up. Watch her plan your smuggling with bright eyes.
'The security team changes rotation at 2AM.' She's drawing invisible blueprints on your chest. 'That's when we could—'
'Breathe, baby.'
'I'm serious.' Her fingers curl against your skin. 'I've thought about this. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah.' She ducks her head. 'Have the whole thing mapped out in my head. When to sneak you in. Which staff to trust. Where to hide your toothbrush.'
'My toothbrush gets its own strategic planning?'
'Everything gets strategic planning.' She looks up. 'I'd make it work. I'd make it perfect.'
'Jimin.'
'I know it's crazy.' Her voice cracks. 'But I can't—the thought of not—'
You pull her down. Kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. 'Tell me more about this secret entrance.'
She breathes against your neck. 'Really?'
'Really. Though I should warn you—'
'What?'
'My toothbrush is high-maintenance. Needs its own security detail.'
She laughs, wet and relieved. 'I'm being pathetic.'
'You're being perfect.' Your thumb catches a tear. 'And I'm taking notes.'
'Yeah?'
'Mm yeah. Finally found my title: "How to Smuggle a Writer: A Professional Hazard."'
Jimin nuzzles into you further. Purring at this moment of peace.
2 Weeks Later
Dawn creeps through her expensive curtains. She's wrapped around you like a koala, skin on skin, taking up more space than her tiny frame should allow.
You try to slip away. Her arms tighten.
'No,' she mumbles against your chest.
'Tea.'
'Lies.'
'Green tea.'
'Worse lies.'
But she lets you go, rolling into the warm spot you leave behind. You pause at the door—she's barely covered by the sheet, hair a mess across your pillow. Perfect.
The kitchen gleams in morning light. That copper kettle she insisted on buying catches the sun—"Because proper tea needs proper tools," she'd declared, like your entire existence before her was barbaric.
She pads in almost-naked just as the water's heating, with your discarded shirt from yesterday.
'Cold?'
'Miss you already.'
'I'm right here.'
'Too far.' She hooks her chin over your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. 'What blend?'
'The one you say you hate.'
'Mm. The grassy one?'
'Getting better at this.'
She hums against your skin. Already reaching for her cup—the blue ceramic one that somehow migrated from the hotel to her apartment.
First sip. Her eyes close.
'Well?'
'It’s okay.' She takes another sip. 'Bland. I guess.'
She grins wide as you turn around. Getting closer to you, inhaling the smell of your fresh t-shirt. 
'Noted.' You kiss her temple. 'Want the rest of mine too?'
'Yes.' A sleepy smile. 'But only because I love you.'
'Of course.' Your greatest triumph: her, here, stealing your tea and your heart. 'Only because of that.'
'Want breakfast?' She's already moving to the fridge.
'You're cooking?'
'Don't sound so scared.' She pulls out eggs, something that looks suspiciously gourmet. 'I've been practicing. Besides, I’m tired of eating the coal you call food, and the bacteria colony I call food.'
'Since when?'
'Since I decided to be domestic.' She hip-checks you away from the counter. 'Go sit. Let me work.'
You watch her move around the kitchen. Something's different. A nervousness in her hands, a flutter in her movements.
'Stop staring.'
She’s revelling in it, how she gets you dumb-struck every time you get a glance of her.
Too cute.
'Can't help it.'
She sets a plate in front of you. Simple breakfast. Eggs. Toast. But arranged with careful precision. Something white peeking out from under the toast.
'Fancy.' You reach for your fork.
'Wait.' Her fingers twist in your shirt. 'Look under.'
'Under the toast?'
She nods. Not breathing.
You lift the bread. There's a small note. Written as small as her hands would allow. 
‘Pregnant.’
The world stops.
'Jimin.'
'I know it's fast.' The words rush out. 'I know we just—but I've been feeling strange and the test was just sitting there in my bathroom for days and I finally—this morning while you were sleeping—'
You pull her into your lap.
'Say something.'
'When?'
'2 weeks, maybe? Remember that night after the bar?'
You remember. Of course you remember. A beautiful night.
'Are you...' Her voice small. 'Are you happy?'
You kiss her. Taste salt. Someone's crying. Maybe both of you.
'Ecstatic.' Your hand finds her stomach. Still flat. But now. But soon. 'Terrified.'
'Yeah?' She laughs through tears.
'Yeah.' You kiss her again. 'Best breakfast ever.'
'Even better than your tea?'
Instead of answering, you kiss her again.
What's tea anyway?
Fin
A/N: Goodness! They make a great couple. Hope you enjoyed!
704 notes · View notes
trashytracktales · 2 days ago
Note
Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*
Think twice | LN⁴
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💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀
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𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.
𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader
𐙚 rating ──── explicit
𐙚 category ──── F/M
𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.
𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k
𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.
The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.
It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.
Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.
Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.
Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.
“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.
“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.
Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.
“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.
But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”
Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.
“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”
Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.
She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”
He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.
“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.
He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.
“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.
She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.
Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.
Want, being the keyword.
Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.
Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.
He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.
He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.
She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.
Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.
When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.
“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.
“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.
Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”
“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.
She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”
He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.
Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.
“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.
“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.
She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.
“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”
The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.
“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”
He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.
They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.
Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.
Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”
She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.
Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”
“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.
His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”
His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.
She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.
Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?
His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.
The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.
She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.
It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.
“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.
“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.
Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.
“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”
She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”
His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”
Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”
His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”
The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.
And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.
He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”
“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”
Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.
Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.
And now?
“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.
She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”
He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.
Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.
“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”
He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”
Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.
Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.
Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”
Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.
“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.
Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.
When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”
Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.
Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.
His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”
With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.
Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”
She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.
He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”
She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.
Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.
As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”
Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.
Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”
He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”
The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.
“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.
Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.
Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.
“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.
His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.
“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.
As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.
Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.
In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”
Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.
By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.
“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.
Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.
“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.
His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.
Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”
Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.
Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.
“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.
Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”
He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.
“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.
The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.
“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”
Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.
“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”
Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.
Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.
It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.
When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.
Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”
She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”
He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.
“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.
After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.
He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.
The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
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Thank you for reading!
None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎
© trashy track tales, 2025
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saintgoths · 2 days ago
Text
ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ-ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ
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ghost gives you a good throat-fucking.
pet names and ghost swearing a lot.
p!links
unread
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You gagged, hands against the inner of his thighs as he continued to use your mouth, one hand had been entangled through the locks of your hair, your throat gently expanding every time he shoved his cock further down your throat.
Your eyes were wet, with tears due to how deep he went, how deep he wanted your spit to coat his width, Ghost’s tip stroking the back of your throat as he calmed you with warm words. “That’s it baby,” he said while rotating his hips, he grunted, the skin of his sac pressed against your lips.
You drooled, desperately sucking it back up, eager to please him. You felt the wetness between your legs become stickier, connecting the inner corner of your thighs against each other. You stretched your tongue, Ghost’s length rubbing against the texture of it, you looked at him, had saw how his face had been twisted, furrowed, so concentrated for his high.
“That it---oh fuc---that---” he stuttered, his chest heavy, each time it arose it came down deeper than the last, whenever he did that, that’s when you knew he was near, when his movements became less smooth, more rigid, stiff, and sharp.
You moaned. You forced your mouth to move to the top of it, to suck on it, eyes trained on him, teasing him to see how his face would twist more, thus his groans echoed louder, like bass through glass, now he had both hands against your head, curved at the back of it.
“Princess----oh---shit!” He cried out, burying his length inside of you again, the slickness of your mouth making it easier for him, loads of his cum trickling and glazing the width of your throat.
Shakily, he exhaled, pulling his dick out your mouth, watching how his cum and your saliva mixed with each other, a string from your tongue was connected to the base of his cock, the link broken when he shoved it into your mouth again, slowly, but rough, he pulled himself out again and continued the motion. “Good girl,” he praised. “Good fucking girl,” he whispered. “Good girl, swallow it for me.”
You listened, you swallowed his cum so he bent down to you, cupped your chin with two of his fingers before kissing your lips, embracing your mouth, tasting his own self, breathing you in, and once he pulled away, you looked at him with lapin eyes, silently begging him to order you around.
“Now turn around for me,” he said and so you did.
P!LINK 1
P!LINK 2
P!LINK 3
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ghost masterlist
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leafavleo · 1 day ago
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GHOST who spits a lot. Like any other guy, that really doesn’t care what others think about him, he spits on the ground from time to time, earning a smack on the shoulder from you and a quick scolding. He couldn’t care less, but keep talking, pretty mama.
He doesn’t hear you complaining when his spits on your needy pussy while he eats you out. He loves how much you squirm and moan when he has you underneath him, assaulting your cunt with his tongue to the point where you don’t even remember the last time you were dry down there.
As he spits on your pussy, he catches a glance of the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, how much you’re holding that cry of pleasure.
Ghost doesn’t stay cheap when he has you on your knees before him. The soft look in your eyes, the lips parted and tongue out for him to see how willing you are to take his cock and worship it.
“Stay like that.” He says, a throaty voice that makes you press your thighs tighter.
He grabs your jaw, tightly enough to hold your head back and keep your lips apart. He leans over you, collecting the saliva in his mouth before spitting it right onto your tongue, grinning.
That’s not the only things you’d be swallowing.
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sunsburns · 2 days ago
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clark kent and those damn glasses (18+)
one of the most endearing things about clark is his glasses. and it’s not just the frames themselves—it’s the way he wears them.
they’re charmingly imperfect, a little too big for his face (funny since he’s already so huge), the wide frames sitting just slightly askew over his eyes. they’re always slipping down his nose when he’s focused on work, and you adore the way he absentmindedly pushes them up with his finger.
it’s such a dorky gesture, pressing his pointer finger to the bridge and nudging them back into place, sometimes scrunching his nose without even realizing it.
his glasses are rarely ever straight. they always seem just a little crooked, as if they have a mind of their own. you find it endlessly charming, especially when he’s flustered, rushing to adjust them in the middle of a conversation.
and the way his glasses fog up? it’s honestly the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. in the winter, it happens all the time, especially when he’s bundled up in one of those thick scarves his mom knitted for him. he doesn’t just wear them; he practically swaddles himself in them, wrapping them up so high they cover half his face, his chin tucked snugly inside.
and it wasn’t like he needed them, that man never really gets cold.
but when the cold air meets the warmth of his breath trapped behind the scarf, his glasses fog over completely.
and he doesn’t even notice right away.
“oh,” he’ll mumble, sheepish, pulling the scarf down just enough to blow warm air into his hands or wipe the lenses with his sleeve. and you can’t help but stare, heart melting a little more at how utterly unassuming he is.
but the best part is when they fog up because of you. when you kiss him—really kiss him—the lenses go misty, blurring the edges of his face until all you can focus on is how soft his lips feel against yours.
you tease him about it sometimes—“superman can’t even keep his glasses clean?”—but the way his ears turn red when you say it makes you kiss him again, and again, and again. and every time, he’s the same—pink-cheeked, slightly embarrassed, and completely perfect. sometimes he won’t even bother cleaning them, his hands sliding back to your waist, pulling you closer, because really, all he wants to see is you.
all he wants to feel is you.
clark kisses like the end of the world is coming. his lips are parted, hands everywhere—gripping your waist, cradling your face, sliding down your back as if trying to memorize the shape of you. his mouth slots against yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. and when his knee nudges between your legs, he waits—waits for that gasp, that little sigh you can’t hold back—before slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste more of you, to pull you even closer.
and then there’s the glasses. sometimes, more often than not, you’re the one reaching for them, fingers brushing over his temples, trying to fix them on his face when they’ve slid down his nose. he’s too caught up in you to notice or care, but you can’t help yourself. it starts as a simple gesture—your hands reaching for his face, for his hair, for anything you can anchor yourself to. you nudge the glasses back into place, only to watch them fog up again as he groans against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy between kisses.
and sometimes, clark forgets to take them off when things get messy. one kiss turns into another, and another, until clothes are being pushed aside, his hands roaming, touching, claiming. his lips trail lower, over your jaw, your throat, your stomach, until he’s kneeling before you, arms wrapped tight around your thighs, his mouth hot and relentless against your cunt.
his glasses are still there, perched on his nose, slightly crooked but somehow still clinging on. the lenses catch the faintest glint of light, fogged over from his breath, smudged from the mess he’s making of you. his tongue drags through your folds with deliberate precision, teasing and tasting, and when his nose nudges your clit, you jolt, a whimper spilling from your lips.
“oh, baby,” you gasp, voice shaky and half-laughing when he moans at the sound of you calling him ‘baby’. the vibration travels through you, making your thighs tremble in his grip. his free hand slides up the outside of your leg, fingers splaying over your skin before grabbing a handful of your ass. he uses the grip to rock you against his mouth, his tongue dipping into you again and again, insistent and unrelenting. every movement, every touch, feels deliberate—he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s determined to ruin you.
his glasses slip further down his nose, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause to fix them. his focus is entirely on you, on the way you’re gasping and squirming, your hands tangling in his hair, your hips bucking against his face. the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you fill the air, and you’re half-delirious with pleasure, your body trembling as he pushes you higher and higher.
it’s only when you’re shaking, your thighs trembling around his head, that he finally pulls back. his face is flushed, his lips shiny and swollen, and those damn glasses—crooked, foggy, and smudged—still cling to his nose. he grins at you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before finally pulling the glasses off and tossing them aside.
he rolls his eyes at your sad whine once they’re gone.
you’ve always liked his glasses for some reason.
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holybibly · 2 days ago
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The latest news, my sugar bunnies.
Unholy thoughts of the day: Seonghwa's oral fixation always gets worse before a concert, as his girlfriend you help him to relieve the tension.
"Seonghwa, baby, you have to… you have to get ready for the concert…" Your hot, wet breath fanned the soft, thin skin of his ear, sending shivers of excitement down his spine. "Can you hear me, baby?" But all your attempts to get through to him were completely useless because Seonghwa could barely concentrate on your words. And how could he, when you were fucking yourself deep and slow on his cock, with two of your fingers sliding sensually between his plump, wet lips, rubbing against his tongue and caressing the inside of his cheeks? Your rings clinked against his perfect, snow-white teeth as you pushed them deeper into his insatiable mouth, pressing the soft tips of your fingers to the back of his tongue. "It's… so good… I just need a little more…" That's all he can manage to get out. His velvety, pornographic voice is muffled by the wet sounds of drooling saliva and noisy swallowing as he speaks through your fingers. "Fuck my mouth, my beautiful star… Please… Fuck my mouth… ""Everything for you, Hwa."
Your fingers slip out of his mouth for a moment, all slick with spit and cherry lip balm, only for you to rub it all over his luscious, fuckable lips in a kinky, dirty caress. But Hwa doesn't care, he opens his mouth wider, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, as he thrusts his hips up so that the thick, swollen head of his cock presses right against your cervix. The hot, smooth walls of your cunt immediately tighten around the massive girth, holding it securely in a velvety grip and stimulating the bulging veins on his cock.
"Fuck, Hwa, just like that... You do it so well, the most beautiful boy ever".
Behind the closed door of the dressing room you can still hear the loud cheers of the fans who have come for the sound check and you wonder for the umpteenth time what they would say if they saw Seonghwa like this - needy, whiny and not afraid to beg for what he so desperately wants.
What would his fans say if they found out what a slut he really is?
Your fingers return to his mouth, and his long, soft tongue immediately begins to move diligently to wet your fingers with his saliva.
You grab his chin with your other hand and hold his head still so you can enjoy the fucked look on his beautiful, godlike face. With drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and his dark cat eyes unfocused and heavy, you can easily see how much he enjoys having your fingers in his mouth.
Seonghwa pulls in his cheeks and sucks hard on the tender appendages, his tongue moving fast and chaotically around your graceful fingers, reminding you of how his tongue used to dance in the same way between your labia, licking and rubbing the moist, sensitive folds of your needy little cunt as you swallowed his amazing cock deep down your throat in your favourite 69 this morning.
You begin to move on his cock again, noticing how Hwa's eyes glaze over, becoming nothing more than a smooth black mirror. He looks like he's in a daze. Drool drips from his luscious lips, his tongue lolls out as he tries to swallow your fingers.
His loud, whimpering moans come through your fingers, and you just push them deeper, making contact with the back of Seonghwa's throat, making him choke on both his saliva and your fingers.
But just as you're about to pull away, thinking that maybe things have gone too far, Hwa's teeth sink into your fingers and his lips close tightly around you, preventing you from pulling his treat from your mouth. His muscular thighs begin to move wildly, the fast pace hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your walls clench, fluttering around Seonghwa's cock.
He came before you, his whole body shaking and his eyes rolling back. Hwa is too stunned to notice that you're carefully pulling yourself away from his cock and instead start rubbing your swollen clit hard and fast to bring yourself to orgasm.
The sound of his name falling from your lips as you finally cum catches his attention, and Hwa smiles apologetically at you, looking away shyly.
"Sorry, angel, I didn't mean to..." Seonghwa squeezes out barely audibly, his voice getting huskier and lower.
You smile lovingly at him, kissing his rosy cheek lightly.
"It's okay, love, really. I don't mind helping my handsome boyfriend with his damn hot oral fixation. But I still expect you to fuck me senseless after the concert."
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morganakang444 · 3 days ago
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𝑑𝘰𝑛‘𝘵 ℎ𝑎𝘵𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 || 𝑙𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑔 (𝑝𝘵 1) ౨ৎ
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꒰ ꒱ྀི lee heeseung x fem!reader
☆゙ ↳ main masterlist
☆゙ ↳ prev | next
☆゙ ↳ synopsis: you don‘t want me? fine. the two of us can play that game.
the heartthrob of the campus had finally set his eyes on y/n. she was going to be his next victim, to fall for him and assume she can fix him moments before she finds herself ghosted. but y/n knew all too well…too bad she only captures heeseung‘s heart after beating him at his own game. that’s when she learns: don’t hate the player. hate the game.
☆゙ ↳ wc: 6741
☆゙ ↳ genre/warnings: a lil bit smutty, kinda fluff (?) cursing, sexual harassment (not from heeseung), heeseung tries to touch up reader, pining, fuckboy heeseung, y/n is a virgin, a few typos…if i missed anything pls lmk!!
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"okay, okay, we‘ve had monica, brittany, and mina this week alone, yeah?" karina snickers, jotting down the names of lee heeseung‘s newest side quests.
the two best friends, karina and y/n, were huddled together in their university classroom (sitting the furthest away from everybody of course), as if they were little high schoolers gossiping about who kissed who.
however, what they were doing wasn’t far from immature, childish gossip. here, they were strategizing who lee heeseung—the school‘s fuckboy—would go for next. it was like a fun little game to the girls, the excitement of seeing how right their guesses could get making them giggle every time.
although it was only the beginning of sophomore year in uni, mr. fboy heeseung had already had his way with nearly half the school, so y/n and karina knew their time would come soon. the only difference between them being karina was open to a night with heeseung. no strings attached, of course. it’s been a month since her messy breakup with her former girlfriend yunjin, and she knew heeseung was the only person who‘d give her a good night with no feelings, guaranteed.
then there was y/n. not to say she’s "not like everyone else," she does find heeseung attractive and well, a little charming—she hates the idea of being with anyone "no strings attached." and heeseung‘s version of adding strings to his puppet was dating them for a week after hooking up before inevitably ghosting them. and unfortunately for y/n, that wasn’t enough.
y/n nods at karina‘s question, holding up three fingers to represent each of heeseung‘s playthings.
"and how about abby? the blonde one with big boobs? classic bimbo," y/n inquiries quietly, "have they gotten together yet?" karina lets out a noise similar to a "pfft" before nodding her head, answering. "a few times, actually. he really likes her.." karina trails off, shaking her head.
"i just…don‘t know who else.." y/n trails off, biting her thumb in thought. "bianca martinez?" karina nods.
"yeji?" karina nods once more.
"damn—minji?" and again, karina nods.
y/n lightly palms her face in disbelief.
"i guess this one will be a surprise, hm?" jokes karina, a playful smile lingering on her lips.
y/n sighs, defeated. "guess so."
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
"remember, guys! tutoring begins 3pm today! if you‘re late then your extra credit points are docked!" spoke mr. glenn as class ended, reminding y/n of her duty she needed to fulfill later on today as a top student. with a groan, she stood up and grabbed her baby pink bag, lightly slinging it over her shoulder.
"oh you‘ll be having fun teaching those dumbasses.." teased karina, tickling y/n‘s side with a grin as the two girls exited class together.
"ugh, i know.." laughed y/n as karina tickled her. "i‘m gonna be stuck here for two whole hours kari.." y/n whined, pouting as she leaned her head on karina‘s shoulder, walking towards their dorm room.
"you‘ll be okay, i‘ll buy you lots of food after, hm?" karina said as she stroked y/n‘s hair, feeling her head nod against her.
a couple hours later, y/n arrived inside mr. glenn‘s dim-lit classroom, ready (but annoyed) to teach a bunch of frat boys and sorority girls who are falling behind.
coming in with a fake smile, y/n shot mr. glenn a small wave as she strutted inside the classroom confidently, sitting down at the table sectioned off to help students with english. pulling out her phone, she laid her head down, scrolling through tiktok to pass time before students came in.
and just as she predicted, a student was already approaching her table for help.
"hey, beautiful.." spoke an almost familiar voice, tone sultry and flirtatious. "wanna help me get this english grade up?"
y/n looked up from her phone to meet eyes with the boy who was seemingly so eager to get his english grade up. but when y/n saw him, her breath slightly hitched and she had to clear her throat to regain her faintly lost composure. because being face to face with lee heeseung was not what she expected.
"um..heeseung.." y/n spoke hesitantly, grabbing her english textbook. swallowing, her elegant hands flipped page through page, trying to find the section they last left on in class.
"do you need help with what we‘ve recently been doing?" y/n asked, trying to ignore that sensual expression heeseung wore on his face.
"sure." heeseung shrugs. "i haven‘t been doing much in class…" he trails off, grabbing the textbook from y/n, his soft, pale hands brushing against hers.
y/n refused to show any reaction to heeseung‘s touch, which he took note of. poor y/n, she has no idea heeseung likes a challenge.
"well i can guide you through the notes we‘ve been taking this week on literary theory and textual interpretation. it sounds pretty difficult but i can guarantee you it’s easy." y/n‘s voice remained fairly monotone and pretty professional, heeseung‘s charm starting to wear off on her. that shyness from a minute ago was no longer present.
y/n grabbed her english notebook from her bag, opening it to a page filled with notes. heeseung scoffs as y/n opens her mouth to speak, interrupting her.
"oh, you‘re cute.." he smirks, laying his hands on her page of notes, tapping up and down with his finger.
"i didn’t want you to actually teach me, my dear." his voice lowers to that of a whisper. "i have a proposal." his lips curl up into a smile in contrast to y/n‘s frown.
"which is..?" y/n questions, her tone a bit irritated. she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.
"you do my work…and i‘ll pay you." heeseung speaks confidently.
"how much are we talking?" y/n asks, seemingly annoyed. but that doesn’t break heeseung‘s cocky demeanor.
"oh i‘m not talking about money, love.."
y/n can only roll her eyes at his suggestion, already knowing where this would go.
"i‘ll fuck you for every assignment you do, hm? whatever you want. there‘s nothing i haven‘t done, afterall." he slightly bites his lip, leaning back in his seat, now manspreading.
"and that’s exactly why i won‘t take up that offer…" y/n‘s voice holds a note of offense. "glad to know that’s what you think of me…" y/n rolls her eyes, completely finished putting up with heeseung‘s attitude, starting to pack her stuff up.
"oh, come on, baby. i‘m not saying you‘re a slut—i can tell you‘re a virgin. you‘re so uptight." heeseung gestures his hands towards himself. "i‘m offering you something over half the girls on campus would die for."
"heeseung, you don’t even know my name." y/n retorts, standing up to leave.
"y/n!! leaving so soon?" mr. glenn calls out, noticing y/n ready to leave.
y/n nods, telling mr. glenn she has an emergency at home. but before she walks off, heeseung grabs her wrist gently, but firm enough to turn her around, her eyes locked on his.
with a smirk heeseung says, "now i do, y/n."
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
with a groan, y/n slams shut her dorm room door, back pressed against it as she let out a frustrated sigh.
"damn, they really got you so bad you had to leave early, hm?" karina teases, putting down her phone and sitting up on her purple sheeted bed.
y/n hangs her head down, a vexed smile on her face as she let out a breathy laugh, making a piece of her hair fly slightly forward. she shot karina a knowing look.
"you won‘t fucking believe who the hell i had to tutor for like—five minutes today…"
y/n threw herself down on karina‘s bed, right next to the raven-haired girl.
"who?? oh my god — was it that one guy who practically stalked you last year?" karina lets out an unbelieved laugh.
y/n shakes her head. "no..this guy was somehow almost worse." she scoots ever so slightly closer. "lee fucking heeseung.." y/n snorts as she laughs, covering her giggles with her hands as karina mimics, both of the girls laughing in disbelief.
"no way! i doubt there was much tutoring going on…" karina says behind her hand that slightly muffled her words.
y/n shakes her head. "yeah. for lack of a better word at i least 'tutored' heeseung."
y/n sits up, holding air quotes around the word tutored.
"did he say anything? like…" karina lowers her voice to a whisper as if there were other people around. "does he wanna fuck you?"
y/n‘s eyes widen and she lets out a small gasp, slightly taken aback by the question her brown-eyed best friend asked her. but she quickly fixes herself, answering, "yeah. he offered to dick me down if i did his assignments…" y/n tossed herself back-down on karina‘s soft bed, laying flat as she looked up to the blank, white ceiling, eyeing the spinning fan.
"sooo..? did you take up the offer?" karina asks with the most curious tone, laying down indirectly on top of her best friend in order to pry an answer out.
"nooo.." y/n spoke shyly. "i don’t wanna lose my virginity to an asshole fuckboy." y/n scrunches her nose, disgusted at the idea.
"well if you won’t take him…" karina then slowly pointed to herself, suggesting that she should get a piece of hee.
y/n pushes karina‘s shoulder, causing the pale woman to fall on her back. y/n sits up. "no, karina. you need to get back with yunjin…you guys broke up for a stupid ass reason. she needs to realise you weren‘t flirting with another girl, and move on. with you…"
karina slowly moves her eyes down in the direction of her phone before she picks it up, hand grasping her silver case.
"about that…" karina‘s face shows mischief before showing y/n messages between karina and yunjin.
yunjin: i miss u, rina 🙁🙁 so much.
karina: yunjin, you broke up with me, if you want me back so bad you have me…
yunjin: maybe i do. but what you did wasn’t ok, rina. i hate that stupid bitch heather and you still spoke to her
karina: baby pls…i‘ll do anything to make it up to you, i am so so sorry..
yunjin: then let me come over tonight. then maybe you could show me how sorry you really are.
karina: fine…does around 9 work?
yunjin: yeah. get y/n out of there tho. i wanna be alone.
"oh my god…rina..!" y/n said, a bit shocked. "she misses you! this is good!"
karina curls her lips up a bit. "either that or she wants some pussy tonight."
y/n playfully rolls her eyes. "which you‘ll glady give her, i assume?"
karina hesitantly nods, a smile falling from her lips.
"well, i guess i‘ll be going out tonight.." y/n gets up, going towards her vanity to take her hair out of its pink claw clip, running her cream colour brush through her soft locks.
"maybe you could help out heeseung, hm?" karina goaded y/n.
y/n turned to karina with an unamused look, still brushing her hair. "never. i have better things i could do…" y/n trailed off, her expression softening when she realises that was a total lie. she really put her academics over everything, and outside of karina had a social life of almost zero.
"we both know that’s not true, y/n," spoke karina as if she were reading y/n‘s mind.
karina scoots, now sitting on the edge of her bed. "come on, y/n—you don’t have to fuck him, but you can fuck around with him, right? it‘ll be fun!"
y/n thinks for a moment, considering karina‘s words. "but i‘m not seductive—i wouldn’t know what to do! i can’t flirt.." y/n covers her face slightly, brush still in hand.
karina snickers. "y/n, he‘s already come onto you and gotten a piece of your attitude. if he didn’t want you, would he have approached you? think about it! you don’t have to be some master of seduction to woo heeseung."
y/n removed her hands, knowing deep down karina was right.
"but…i don’t know…how do i do something like that?"
"easy." karina smirks. "remember what i did to that guy dylan?"
y/n nods, intrigued. "lead heeseung on?"
"similar to that. tonight, you head over to his dorm—look cute but not too cute to where he knows you put in that effort for him. tell him that you‘re going to take him up on his offer, come inside and do some work." karina stands up, getting really into describing her plan. "let him tease you; get bold, tease him back…let him touch you, make you feel good, but only! only you get to feel good. as soon as he thinks he‘s getting what he wants…you‘re going to get up and leave, hm? he‘ll be wondering what the hell happened…and he‘ll yearn for you evermore." karina shrugs. "the rest is up to you."
god, y/n wondered why she was suddenly so excited.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
after contacting a mutual friend she and heeseung shared, karina was able to track down where heeseung‘s dorm was, making y/n realise just how real this happening all is.
and so with a five minute walk, y/n had her hair down and pin straight, wearing a matching baby pink, tightly knit matching set, hugging her body just right, her hips swaying so perfectly as she strutted down heeseung‘s hallway in her little ugg slides. with a tiny knock on his door, y/n took little breaths to calm her nerves. *you‘re not going all the way…* she had to remember.
after a small moment, y/n was greeted with heeseung‘s delicate face, a flirtatious smile forming on his lips as his eyes wandered over her.
"so you did want to see me afterall, y/n.." heeseung gazed at y/n‘s beautiful face, she was so stunning even without makeup…just curled lashes and clear lip gloss was all she needed to sparkle.
heeseung leaned against his doorway, his biceps flexed against the frame as he gestured y/n to come in.
without reacting to any of heeseung‘s words, y/n came into heeseung‘s dorm, surprised he was alone and without his friends or a hookup laying in his bed.
she stood near his desk as heeseung strode over to her, sitting at the chair paired with his desk.
"sorry, love…i have no extra chairs." heeseung sighs in mock apology.
"it‘s okay, i‘ll just stand," y/n politely smiles, placing her off-white shoulder bag on his desk, pulling out homework material.
heeseungs tsks, gently placing his hands on y/n‘s hips, gartering her attention.
"or you could always just sit on my lap.." heeseung toyed with the hem of y/n‘s pants, but she quickly smacked his veiny hand away.
"i‘m good." she gave a smug grin when she saw heeseung‘s slightly taken aback expression. he let out a small sigh, clearly growing frustrated.
"you‘re so uptight, you know that?" heeseung leaned back, his tone not angry but teasing.
y/n turned her body to face herseung. "oh yeah?" she placed a hand on her hip with a raised brow.
"yeah. you should relax. don’t you have a vibrator or something? i heard that can help…" he snickers at her shocked reaction.
"i don’t use those things—you‘re so crude!"
"ah..so your hands aren’t doing the job right?"
y/n feels her face heat up, blush creeping onto her cheeks.
"what i do isn’t your business, heeseung."
y/n‘s voice was firm, arms now crossed.
heeseung held up his hands in a surrendering motion, his legs much more visible to show off his manspread.
"you‘re right, you‘re right. i‘m just trying to offer my word of advice to a woman in need.."
y/n rolls her eyes. "i‘m here to teach you, heeseung! keep this up and you won’t get anything." she bends down so she is eye-level with the black haired boy, her eyes meeting his clearly turned on gaze. her voice was brash, and authoritative, her finger pointing at heeseung, her acrylic fingernail poking his solid chest every few words.
heeseung slightly bit his lip once he caught a glimpse down y/n‘s tight little jacket, her cleavage in perfect view. heeseung could only swallow, trying to not make it super obvious where his eyes were locked.
and lucky for him, y/n didn’t seem to notice as she stood back up, towering over heeseung‘s sitting figure.
"sit on my lap and i‘ll be good, hm? i‘ll leave you alone my dear y/n.." heeseung speaks quietly, gently patting his thigh.
y/n hesitates, thinking about karina‘s words—to just tease…make yourself feel good, then leave when he thinks he‘s getting something…
with those words in mind, y/n slowly lowers her round ass onto heeseung‘s thigh, sitting sideways on his lap. his hands immediately gripped y/n‘s waist, slowly caressing her slim sides up and down, fingertips ever so slightly reaching under her little jacket, gliding over her soft, bear skin. she shivered, the foreign feeling of his hands on her ignited something small within her. but she shakes any thoughts of pleasure out from her head, pulling out homework material from her bag, flipping through annotated packets and mindlessly organising them, just trying to distract herself from heeseung‘s hands trailing further up her torso.
"you almost done..?" heeseung asks quietly, his warm breath against y/n as he moved her hair away from her neck, whispering against the soft skin. y/n quivered, letting go of the packets she held. y/n nodded, clearing her throat as she adjusted herself on heeseung‘s lap. she heard a low groan fall from his lips, and she spun her head around with a small gasp, not believing what her ears just heard.
"did you just…?"
"yeah..sorry.." heeseung faintly whispered, sounding like he was holding something back. "that felt nice.." heeseung squeezed y/n‘s sides placidly, like he was giving her a massage.
y/n blinked in response for a moment before she practically scoffed, her assertive facade coming back to her. "fucking horndog…" she whispers, looking heeseung up and down like he was a vermon.
heeseung‘s grip tightened, groping her sides more aggressively in response, sucking in air through his teeth. "yeahhh…just for you, babe." heeseung chuckled breathily to himself.
y/n rolls her eyes, swatting heeseung‘s arm. "and every other girl you make eye contact with. surprised you don’t have an std by now.."
heeseung faintly flinched at y/n‘s little swat, not used to a woman defying him like this. but he didn’t mind. in fact, heeseung likes a chase sometimes.
"it’s called condoms, dude. i don’t go raw on anyone," he lets out that same chuckle from earlier.
"heeseung, i really don’t care," y/n retors, smacking his head with a packet. "now are you going to let me teach you or are you going to touch me all over this whole time?"
heeseung raises a brow, locking eyes with the girl on his lap. "i thought you were doing my assignments for me, babe. remember our deal?"
y/n shakes her head. "i pride myself in my teaching abilities. and i don’t want to fuck you.."
"oh come on, y/n. you‘re almost twenty and you‘re still a virgin…why not lose it?"
"how do you know i‘m a virgin..?" y/n‘s brows furrow in confusion.
"remember earlier in mr. glenn‘s tutoring session? i can just tell. you‘re so fucking uptight."
y/n makes a face similar to disgust. "being an uptight virgin is better than being a chill fucking whore like you."
heeseung only tittered, not offended by y/n‘s remark. "you don’t wanna loosen up?" he pulled y/n closer towards his body.
"not with you…" her voice grows quiet when she feels heeseung‘s arm wrap around her waist, hand snaking down, closer towards her pussy, his fingers trailing the hem of her tight little knit flare leggings that matched her cropped jacket.
her breath hitches as her back is now pressed up against heeseung‘s firm chest, both her legs straddling his left thigh, her ass cheek pressed against his growing erection.
a soft hum leaves y/n‘s lips when heeseung‘s fingers grow braver and dip into y/n‘s pants, middle finger gently pressing down on y/n‘s clit, applying just enough pressure to form a wet patch in y/n‘s panties which didn’t go unnoticed by heeseung, a smirk forming on his lips.
"you sure you don’t want my help?" heeseung snickers, his finger sliding down to feel the warm wetness in y/n‘s panties.
but y/n knew she couldn’t give in. y/n was smarter than to cave in to heeseung‘s smart talk and skilled hands. so she suppressed her moan and reluctantly grabbed heeseung‘s wrist, pulling his hand away from her pussy. she stood up and calmly grabbed her bag and packets, turning to face heeseung, who was visibly confused.
y/n could only smirk satisfactory with heeseung‘s reaction to rejection.
"clearly we aren’t on the same page, heeseung. i‘m leaving now—if you really want my help, get those hormones in check. maybe fuck a girl on your roster before seeing me." y/n politely smiles in contrast to her passive aggressive tone. and saying no more, y/n leaves heeseung‘s dorm, leaving him sitting there, absolutely dumbfounded a girl has actually rejected his advances. he watched y/n‘s figure stride away and leave before he ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling quietly to himself.
that was the first time heeseung didn’t get any action with a girl in his place, and the first time a girl seemed to hold zero attraction to him; and the very first time a girl challenged him, and made him want her more. y/n was more of a chase then heeseung thought. luckily for him he was determined, and a fast runner.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
y/n swung open the door to her dormitory, adrenaline rushing through her veins. she looked over at karina‘s bed and spotted the woman laying down with yunjin under the covers, and it was very apparent the two just slept together. she wasn’t taken aback, however. she had already knew the two would be together tonight.
y/n shook karina awake, not caring if she were naked or not. both karina and yunjin awoke, slightly startled at y/n‘s franticness. before either of the lovers could say anything, y/n spoke up.
"i did it! i did it—but there was barely any action, he sat me on his lap and tried touching my pussy but i left before much could happen!" y/n sounded a bit freaked out with a hint of excitement.
"who is she talking about..?" said yunjin groggily, rubbing her wide eyes.
"heeseung.." yawned karina. "y/n, that‘s good! you‘re probably the first girl in a long time to leave him hanging like that. best him at his own game, hm?" karina smiled, leaning up on her elbows.
y/n‘s face scrunches in slight frustration. "i know…but i‘m just..." she throws her bag down on her bed that‘s only a few feet from karina‘s.
"i‘m glad i did it…it was fun…but—i‘m just…" she sits down on her bed, looking at karina and yunjin. "i don’t know what comes next.."
yunjin and karina exchanged glances before karina speaks up. "you know what happens next?" y/n‘s face grows curious. karina continues. "you wait. you wait for him to chase you…and you‘re going to make him fall for you. and once he does…you leave him for good."
yunjin smirks. "damn karina, what‘d he do to you?"
"nothing. we‘re just bored.." karina looks back at yunjin, but there’s a hint of something beyond playfulness in her eyes.
and with that y/n went to sleep that night, unaware of just how much she had lee heeseung wrapped around her finger.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
one week later — psychology class. the only class y/n shared with lee heeseung.
y/n sat in her usual seat, putting down her bag under her feet after pulling out all her materials. she laid her tired head on her hand, analysing her notes from the last lecture.
and there was heeseung who came in early for once. he was always late (if he even decided to show up, that is), but this time he made sure he was there so he could score a spot next to the beautiful girl who left him so empty that night.
y/n was all that consumed heeseung‘s mind this past week. he didn’t want to be one to admit it, but heeseung hated how she had this effect on him all from not giving him what he wanted. his only goal in mind was to make y/n give in and fall in love with him, then run away just as he did to every other girl…because how dare this little tease leave him empty? nobody defies the lee heeseung like that.
it was only a matter of seconds before heeseung‘s eyes landed on his target. seeing y/n‘s beautiful, long hair flowing over her shoulder and her plump lips pouting in concentration, her slim legs crossed, her grey fold over leggings hugging her body perfectly, the little flare at the end hanging over her cute little winter boots that encased her bouncing feet. her little pink tank top form fitted her torso, causing her chest catch heeseung‘s attention immediately, making him think back to when he got that lovely glimpse down her top that night last week.
and with nothing else on his mind, determination set in and heeseung b-lined it towards the seat empty next to y/n, as more people started to fill the room.
y/n was slightly startled when an obstinate heeseung plopped himself down next to her, his eyes narrowed in on y/n‘s alarmed expression.
"missed me?" heeseung smirks, his voice laced with smugness.
"god you scared me…" y/n placed her hand over her heart. "but no, i didn’t miss you, heeseung."
heeseung leans in a bit closer, his big black jacket scrunching. "call me hee. everyone else does."
y/n shakes her head, her face going back to her notes. "i‘m alright, we‘re not close enough for me to give you a nickname."
heeseung scoffs, changing the subject to the point he originally wanted to talk about.
"why did you leave that night?"
y/n held back a smirk at the hint of desperation in heeseung‘s voice. the question alone enough to make her want to giggle in satisfaction.
"you were being unprofessional, heeseung. i was there to help tutor you, not have sex with you." her tone was pretty deadpan in contrast to the excitement growing inside of her at the thought heeseung was currently chasing after her.
"i could have made you feel good," heeseung says as he leans back in his chair, his hand coming up to play with strands of y/n‘s hair.
y/n ignores him, flipping through pages in her notebook.
"you‘re not any different from these other girls, you know…you‘re not special." his voice grew annoyed.
"what?" y/n turned her head to the side, her irritated expression apparent.
heeseung’s facial expression seemed satisfied at how he was getting under y/n‘s skin. "you‘re not special for not wanting me, y/n…" heeseung leans closer, his hand still on y/n‘s head. faces inches apart, heeseung‘s voice held somewhat of a threatening tone. "…because i‘ll make you want me." an intimidating smile played on heeseung‘s face, his eyes full of malice.
y/n slightly backed up, a small amount of real fear stirring in her chest.
"you‘re crazy…" her voice automatically came out a whisper, her eyes darting all around his face.
he leaned in and quickly pecked y/n‘s cheeks with his lips, his expression now softened, almost affectionate.
"only for you…" and as the psychology teacher mrs. danbury walked in, heeseung settled down along with the rest of the class, acting as if nothing happened.
y/n stayed taken a bit aback, her mind wandering off from the lesson every so often, thinking off heeseung‘s words.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
as class came to an end, heeseung stood up, standing next to y/n‘s sitting figure, and as she rose to walk out of the classroom, she was abruptly stopped by heeseung‘s tall body standing in front of her.
she didn’t need to speak. her confused face was all heeseung needed to start explaining.
"let me take you out." heeseung‘s voice was smooth.
"um…where?" y/n crossed her arms.
"there’s a little café down the street, hm? wanna go there?"
y/n thought for a moment, realising she could use this as an attempt for heeseung to truly fall for her.
"i mean…i am kinda hungry i guess." y/n shrugs, walking passed heeseung. "let’s go."
heeseung grabs y/n‘s wrist, forcing her to come back. he interlocked his fingers with hers, then continued walking.
"people are going to think we‘re a thing if you’re holding my hand…" y/n‘s eyes darted from their intertwined hands then up to heeseung, who only smirked.
"if we‘re together in general people are going to think we‘re a thing." he smirked down at the girl walking with him.
y/n rolled her eyes, "that’s not exactly what i want…i can‘t be seen as one of your little rotations."
heeseung put on a playfully hurt expression.
"that’s really all you think of me, huh? just some fuckboy?"
y/n nodded. "pretty much!" she shot him a soft smile, feigning affection.
heeseung only snickered in response, but when his own umber eyes looked into y/n‘s he couldn’t help but notice just how pretty she was as the sun beamed down on her skin.
entering the café, y/n took note of the strong smell of sweets and coffee blending together in the air, the other university students sitting inside studying under the dimly lit lights, creating a cozy atmosphere, perfect for a break after a day of long, draining university classes.
"this place is so cute…" y/n looked around at the wood panel walls, the faux candles lit all around and the large bookshelf next to the entryway, adding to the library-esq vibe of the café.
heeseung smiled at y/n‘s reaction, her look of awe causing him to feel a small little butterfly in his stomach, but he quickly swatted it away.
"you‘re paying, you invited me out." y/n points at heeseung as she walked up to the register to order, him trailing not too far behind.
"yes, ma‘am," heeseung teased, pulling out his wallet.
"can i have a caramel frappuccino with tapioca pearls, please?" y/n asked in her sweet voice—sounding just like honey.
"i‘ll just have a taro milk tea." said heeseung as he pulled out his credit card.
the cashier said dryly, "that‘ll be $13.85."
and as heeseung inserted his card, y/n slyly peaked over to get a good look at it, which didn’t go unnoticed by heeseung. he just let out a confused laugh. "what‘re you lookin‘ at?"
"your credit card number," replied y/n truthfully. "you said it was your goal to make me like you, and gift giving is my love language." y/n closed her eyes, placing her hands on her chest as she softly swayed her body side to side.
heeseung gently nudged y/n. "yeah, yeah, don’t get too ahead of yourself."
and as their boba was ready, y/n quickly grabbed her drink, placed the baby blue straw inside and immediately took a sip, reveling in the sweet, caramel flavour going down her throat. with a satisfied mmm sound, she started walking towards the door, leaving heeseung in a state of confusion.
"where are you going?" heeseung questioned, his brow slightly raised.
"i‘m going back to the dorm. you took me out like you wanted." y/n shrugged slightly.
"you know i‘m getting real tired of asking you that." heeseung smirked, sipping his tea.
y/n only smiled facetiously. "then give me a reason to stay." and with nothing else, y/n walked out, leaving heeseung once more dumbfounded.
and heeseung didn’t like this pattern he saw forming.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
y/n didn’t walk back to her dorm, though. she was going to hang out with karina at the mall. pulling out her baby pink iphone, y/n clicked karina‘s contact to come ask her to pick her up.
"where you at hoe?" joked y/n as soon as karina picked up.
karina laughed. "at yunjin‘s dorm. i‘m leaving now. where are you?" y/n could hear rustling on the other end.
"near that little café by school—i think it’s called makoko." y/n paused to look at the street name. "i‘m working the corner of rochester street. come pick me up when i‘m done with my next client."
karina playfully rolled her eyes at y/n‘s joke, her car‘s startup engine roaring in the background. "i‘ll be there soon. split some of that cash with me, hm?"
"of course. love ya!" y/n blew a kiss to her phone and karina reciprocated.
opening up instagram to kill time, y/n stood, leaning against the wall of a building while she waited for her best friend.
scrolling mindlessly, mind lost in the depths of liking her favourite celebrities‘ posts and judging her mutuals stories, she hardly noticed a tall male figure approach her rather menacingly.
"all alone?" the deep voice startled y/n, his tone callousing and scary. y/n slightly jumped back, her eyes suspiciously scanning the man up and down. but y/n doesn’t play with scary men like this.
"no, i‘m with somebody. your scary ass can leave now." she spoke sternly, taking slow backwards steps away from the dark haired man.
"i don’t see no one," the man smirked his big lips, a look of lust shining through his eyes as he stepped intimidatingly closer to y/n, following her.
"fuck off nasty ass hoe i don’t know who you think you are because i will rock your shit if you try something!" warned y/n with a fist forming, holding it up in the air like she was going to pop him in his face.
but before the creepy man could vocalise his thoughts, another male came up from behind him and punched the side of his head, making him stumble over, a gasp of shock leaving y/n‘s mouth upon seeing not only the violent action—but the person assaulting the creep—who was…heeseung?
"heeseung wh—" y/n was going to ask him why he was here, why he was defending her—but was overpowered by his aggressive shouting at the big, now less taunting man who was harassing her only moments ago.
"who the fuck do you think you are, hm!?" hesseung yells through gritted teeth, blowing punch after punch, blow after blow onto the man who was laying on the ground, his arms over his face in a defensive manner.
"keep your hands off her and your fucking mouth shut!" heeseung was practically seething at this point, his fists nowhere but the man‘s now bloody face.
y/n wasn’t going to tell heeseung to back off the man—if anything the man deserved it. so she watched from the sidelines, patiently observing, waiting for heeseung to finish.
and for a few more moments, after punching and kicking heeseung spat on the man‘s face as if he were a flithy vermon (which in any sane person‘s mind, including heeseung, that’s what he was equivalent to.)
heeseung marched towards y/n, his face still appearing angry. he aggressively gripped
y/n‘s wrist, yanking her, forcing her to follow heeseung from behind as he angrily started walking.
"in broad fucking daylight, is he insane?"
heeseung scoffed, talking mainly to himself, but y/n could hear.
"heeseung where are you taking me?" she slightly winced at the tight grip he held on her wrist.
"back to your dorm. where i thought you were going." heeseung‘s voice was practically a growl.
"heeseung—i have a ride i was waiting for to go to the mall. i can handle myself." y/n says as she tries to yank her wrist away from heeseung, but his grip only grew tighter.
"clearly you can’t. i wonder what would have happened to you if i hadn’t stepped in, hm?"
y/n only rolls her eyes in disbelief at heeseung‘s words.
"now give me your phone." heeseung holds out his hand towards y/n, still not looking at her.
"why?" she questions, visibly hesitant.
"just—just give it to me. or i‘ll take it myself." there was no indication heeseung was kidding in his tone. so y/n handed the boy in the grey hoodie her phone after opening it, and he went straight to her calls. he clicked on someone’s name before speaking,
"karina?" his tone stayed firm. "yeah, it’s heeseung. look, you‘re the one giving y/n a ride, yeah?" he paused, letting karina respond. "‘kay. i‘m taking y/n to that park not too far from campus. the one everyone hangs out at—pick her up there. something happened she can explain to you later." and without another word, heeseung hung up before opening y/n‘s contacts, adding a number. he handed y/n back her phone, open on the page of the brand new contact.
"my number," he spoke, tone softening slightly. "just to call or text me if anything else like this happens.." heeseung‘s voice held a hint of what y/n could be mistaking as affection…but there was a little bit of something other than coldness. almost like his reasoning was some excuse. she only nodded, murmuring a thank you as they arrived at the park everyone usually hangs out, called "the hill."
heeseung sat down on a cold, metal bench, y/n sitting close to him.
he immediately cupped y/n‘s face, tilting her head in every direction possible, eyes narrowing in on her soft features like he was analysing her. before y/n could protest, he asked, "are you okay? if he laid as much as a single finger on you, y/n, i‘m promising you i‘ll go back there and kill him with my bare hands."
y/n shook her head, a bit taken aback by heeseung‘s sudden protectiveness. her dainty hands stayed with a silent grip on heeseung‘s wrists that softly held her face.
"you should have let me take you home—i should have offered…i‘m so sorry, y/n…" heeseung adverted his gaze from the girl, guilt oozing from his voice.
"it’s alright, really," y/n started with a calm voice, her thumbs rubbing soft, soothing circles on the inside of heeseung‘s wrists, "nothing happened to me." she put on a soft, comforting smile, but it quickly faded when heeseung snapped.
"because i stepped in! y/n who knows what that guy was planning!?" he takes a deep breath to calm himself, voice struggling to stay steady. "what if he hurt you, hm? i don’t…i don’t want that to happen to you." his gaze lingered on y/n, his thumbs caressing the sides of y/n‘s face he was still holding.
"since when have you…" y/n pauses, trying to find the right words. "since when have you cared like that? about anyone?"
heeseung scoffed, his tone coming out offended. "just because i like to fuck around doesn’t make me a bad person, y/n—i would have stepped in and saved any girl that was happening to." his dark brown eyes lock with y/n‘s as if he was searching for something in the pools of her irises. "but you‘re the first girl i‘d go to this length for. the first one i have gone to this length for…if you were anyone else i would have just walked away as soon as i pulled that guy off you."
"why?" was all the stunned girl could manage to get out, her brows furrowed in more curiosity than confusion.
"there’s something about you, i‘ll admit. like a magnet that pulls me in. partly because you left me hanging last week—but just…" heeseung sighs. "the way you don’t want me—it makes me want you even more."
y/n simply laughs. "is this why you‘re being so nice to me?"
heeseung nodded.
"it’s a nice try, heeseung. but you‘re going to have to try a lot harder than give me some speech you‘ve given all your other flings."
and as if she were saved by the bell, y/n saw karina‘s little white toyota pull up to the car, a small honk coming from the vehicle catching both heeseung‘s and y/n‘s attention. she removed heeseung‘s wrists from her face and stood up.
"where are you going?" heeseung wondered, a hint of what almost seemed like panic laced in his voice.
"that really is all you ask me, huh?" y/n teased before walking off towards karina‘s car.
and with another sigh, heeseung slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and slid down the bench so his neck was resting on the edge as he looked up to the blue sky.
it had only been a week since they met and this damn girl already had him wrapped around her finger.
what‘s wrong with him?
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426 notes · View notes
carmenschemtrails · 3 hours ago
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to fill my delusions 💔
family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”
me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:
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56K notes · View notes
wwooyology · 2 days ago
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Scarlet Rosé | C.SN
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「pairing」 : fiancé!san x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.8k
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「synopsis」 : your neediness knows no bounds, even when he dragged you to an underground party. so you let your brattiness get the best of you and started to tease your dear ole fiance... even when you knew what lies ahead of you.
「genre」 : just pure filthy smut (like god lawd) with a sprinkle of plot, fluff if you squint, mafia boss!san
「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, kissing, cussing, petnames (princess...), derogatory names (slut...), daddy kink, mean dom!san x sub!reader, oral (f. receiving), rough sex, bondage, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight clit play, brat tammer!san, lmk if I missed anything!!
「notes」 : this idea came from this video that I saw on Instagram a while back and knew I needed to write a lil smth for it and for my san biased girlies, more specifically for @kitten4sannie, enjoy my love 🖤🙂‍↕️
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The dimly lit room was filled with booming music that rattled the floor underneath your heels as you stood next to your fiance’s seated form. Your hand resting upon his shoulder, the diamond on your ring finger glittering under the strobe lights. Moving closer to the arm of the chair, you sat down, crossing your legs as your small red dress crept up your thighs.
San had dragged you to this party at the last second with whispered promises that he would make it up to you, but you were growing impatient. The small amount of alcohol that you drank hadn’t helped any either; if anything, it just made the constant throbbing need worse. Then, when you tried to coax San into going back home, he refused, saying he had to stay to ‘show face,’ but you couldn’t care less about any of that.
“Sannie…” You purred in his ear as you leaned down, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as your hand crept down his chest. Your manicured nails lightly scrape his bare skin as you slide your hand under his button-up.
San’s jaw tightened as he tried to ignore your antics as he spoke to another respective leader of an allied group. However, his patience was starting to wear thin with your attitude. You had started to push all of his buttons little by little the moment he told you no when you asked to go home.
“Princess.” There was a warning tone in his voice as he spoke lowly, but you chose to ignore it as you undid the top button of his shirt, your lips ghosting the warm skin of his neck. In the next second his hand wrapped around your smaller wrist, halting your wandering hand from going any further and turning his head until he was looking you in the eye, a fire blazing in his dark iris’. “Knock it off, or you won’t get anything but a pathetic vibrator to get yourself off.” He threatened, and your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, your lipgloss shimmering under the dim lighting, and San wanted nothing more than to lick it off.
“But I’ve been patient, and I need you.” You whined, leaning into his shoulder, your breast pressing up against his arm. 
San’s sanity felt as if it were about to snap at any given moment with your attitude, but what finally pushed him over the edge was when those few intoxicating words fell from your lips like honey.
“Please Daddy,”
In record time, he stood from his chair with your arm in his hand, apologizing to the older man and dragging you out of the underground club. He didn’t utter a word as he pulled you towards his sleek black BMW, even as you whined about him being rough.
Walking up to the car, he pushed you against the door, trapping you with his body as he leaned down, face barely centimeters away from yours. The dark gleam in his eyes as they bore into you made your thighs squeeze together, your core throbbing almost painfully.
“Trust me, baby, you haven’t seen rough yet.” His voice was deep, sending a chill down your spine as you stared back at him. However, before you could even utter a word, he pulled you off of the car door and opened it. “Now get your ass in the car.”
You wanted to argue, to push his buttons just a little bit more, but San could see the wheels turning in your head. Reaching forward, he roughly grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you towards him, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.
“Keep acting like a damn brat, and I can promise you I will not be cumming at all tonight.” He growled, lips a breath away from yours, and you wanted so badly to kiss him, but you knew doing so would only add fuel to the fire. Swallowing thickly, you interlock your fingers in front of your body and nodded, but that didn’t satisfy him at all. “Words.”
“Y-Yes,” You stumbled over your words as he squeezed the back of your neck, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you chewed on the plush skin.
San’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before releasing you from his grasp and pointing to the car, “Get in.” 
Without another word, you got into the car, fixing your dress across your legs as San leaned in to grab the seatbelt. Even if he was pissed, he wasn’t gonna let his fiance duties fly out the window, so he buckled the belt before shutting the door.
Your eyes trailed his form as he walked around the car, and as soon as he got in and drove off, you knew that you were about to be in for a long night.
“W-Wait! Daddy, please!” You cried out, hands tugging on the restraints that bound your wrists to the headboard while San completely devoured you.
He nipped at your puffy clit, causing your teary eyes to roll back, a shudder running through your body, “you wanted this princess. Don’t start complaining now.” He growled against your skin before shoving his face back into your dripping pussy, his skilled tongue working your overstimulated body closer to another release.
“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your fourth orgasm washed over your body, back arching off of the bed and your shoulders straining from the awkward position.
San worked your body through your orgasm before finally pulling away after placing a kiss against your twitching clit. You felt air invade your lungs once again after feeling like you were being held underwater, and your eyes fluttered closed, thinking that San finally had his fill, but boy, were you wrong.
In the blink of an eye, your cuffs were unhooked from the headboard, and you were flipped onto your stomach. San’s grip on your hips was strong as you tried to wiggle away, whining that you couldn’t do it anymore.
“Shut up.” He growled as his hand came down on the fat of your ass, eliciting a loud moan from your parted lips. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes as you buried your face in the sheets the moment you felt the thick tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. “You were the one begging me, ‘I need you, Daddy,’ such a whiny little brat. Now take what you wanted so badly, like a good slut.” 
A choked moan tore from your lungs when he pushed into you all in one go, your eyes squeezing shut when he started at a relentless pace. The only sounds that were leaving your mouth were muffled moans and cries of San’s name and incoherent babbles.
San’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he watched his cock disappear into your needy hole, sucking him in like your life depended on it. Your walls squeezed around him, and he knew that he wasn’t gonna last much longer after holding out for so long, but he wasn’t gonna let you go until you were ruined.
So his grip tightened on your hips, sure to leave bruises as he picked up the pace, and your fingers curled into fists above your head as you felt that coil in your lower tummy pull tight. Releasing one side of your hip, he let his hand trail up your spine before tangling his fingers through your hair and pulling your upper body off of the mattress.
“Sannie!” You cried out as the new position had his tip brushing deliciously over your sweet spot.
San clicked his tongue as his lips latched onto your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, causing you to whimper. “That’s not my name, princess.” He cooed in your ear as your head fell back against his shoulder, mind overcome with pleasure.
“I’m sorry, Daddy! I wanna cum, please!” You cried out, bound hands grabbing at his wrist that was by your side.
A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest as your pathetic state, tears streaming down your pretty face as you looked at him. Your pupils were blown out, and your bottom lips trembled as you felt your high right on the tip of your tongue.
“Hmm, are you really sorry, though?” He teased, his pace slowing just a bit, causing you to whine out in protest, pleas falling from your swollen lips. “I find that hard to believe, princess.”
“Daddy, please! I’ll be good, I promise, just wanna cum!” You begged, words nearly catching in your throat when his hand that was holding you up moved down to your puffy clit, drawing sharp circles over the bundle of nerves.
“Cum for me, princess.” San bit the shell of your ear as he coaxed your orgasm closer until you finally tipped over the edge, eyes rolling back, and inaudible moans fell from your lips as your body trembled. 
San smirked as your body melted against his, legs shaking and threatening to give out at any given moment. A groan then broke through his smug look as he felt his balls tighten before spilling deep into your walls; he continued to fuck his cum into your spent cunt before finally coming to a halt.
Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him, knowing if you moved just a bit, you would fall flat on your face. San peppered gentle kisses all over the expanse of your shoulder and neck before reaching your ear.
“You gonna keep acting like a needy brat every time we go to a party?” He asked, his deep voice making you shudder.
Opening your eyes, you lifted your head before looking at him, a slight smirk tugging on your lips. Leaning into him, you captured his lips with yours in a sweet kiss; his lips were soft against yours as he deepened the kiss. His hand on your sternum trailed up the valley of your breast before grabbing your jaw gently. The kiss lingered for a few moments before you finally pulled back just a few centimeters to look at him through your eyelashes.
“Hmm, probably. I can’t help that I just need my Daddy all of the time.” You pouted, San’s eyes darkened a bit, and his grip tightened on your jaw.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to fuck you straight every time, won’t I?” He smirked, a sinister gleam in his eyes, and you could feel his cock twitching in your pussy, making you whimper softly. “That was an important meeting you interrupted, so don’t think we’re done yet.”
You swallowed thickly as you looked at him, knowing damn well that you had dug a huge ass hole for yourself and you had no other choice but to lay in it.
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@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.
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theantho1ogy · 2 days ago
Text
Bakugo x Fem!Reader
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You were Bakugo's favorite pornstar. Every night after his exhaustingly long day of stopping villains and paperwork he'd get home and open his laptop.
Automatically logging into his account and clicking on your profile. Your pretty cleavage up close in those lacy pink lingerie, starring back at him everytime opened the website.
All your thumbnails were shots of your promiscuous body, posing for the camera in some type of lingerie you chose for the night. From babydoll bows littered all over you, to think black straps emphasizing your perky assets.
With Bakugo's erratic hours he was rarely able to watch your streams live. But tonight god must've been looking down at him because the little red dot signally you were on blessed his screen.
He unbuckled his belt with one hand as his other hurriedly clicked the stream. Gracing his sights was you, a pretty little thing that was smiling bash fully as you read the comments from chat. Today you opted for a white see through matching set, with crystals attached throughout the seams.
The set Bakugo sent to you right after he got his first big hero check.
His cock was already hard and throbbing in his palm as he watched you caress yourself. Acting like you weren't riling up him and all the other horny strangers watching you.
You grabbed your breasts through your top and gave a small moan, your breath coming out in small pants as you worked your hands down your body and into your pretty panties.
Bakugo's slow movement mirroring yours and you pulled the strip of fabric aside to reveal your glistening heat.
Slipping your fingers between your slit as you raised them to show the camera, your wet arousal clinging to your fingertips as you pulled them apart before tasting yourself.
What Bakugo would do to be able to taste you for just a second.
He spread his precum over his tip as you spread your pretty pussy lips, showing off the one place that made him think of as heaven.
You bit your lip as you slowly inserted one digit into yourself. The small noise you made, made his cock twitch as he slowly followed your movements.
His rhythm matching yours and you inserted another, both of you moaning together as your speeds picked up. The squelching of your wet pussy making him hot and bothered as he masterbated to you.
You spread your legs wider, giving the audience a nice view of yourself. Your head titled back as you worked your fingers in and out, your other hand fondling your nipples as you moaned out.
Bakugo's grunting and your moaning were the only noises coming from his room. The noise echoing in his head as he was buzzing with lust.
You moved your hand down to play with your clit, getting closer to your orgasm as your moans got louder and your breathing got heavier.
Bakugo's cock pulsing with the need to release as his eyes focused on your pretty pussy, how he wished he could feel you wrapped out him. Your warm cunt squeezing him as he stuffed you full.
The cute noises you'd made for him and him alone, how you'd moan his name as you got closer to your release. Your nails scraping down his back, leaving marks, claiming him as yours as he brought you over the edge.
Just the thought of you being his drove him insane.
His speed getting sloppy as he jerked himself off, getting close. You were too with how fast you were rubbing your clit.
Starring straight into the camera, dazed, and exhausted you uttered the words that made Bakugo finish.
"Fill me up sir"
Bakugo cummed right on your face, his screen splattering with his fluids as you finished with him.
Out of breath you smiled, like you saw what he did. Thanking him for pleasuring you as you slowly sat up, your tits coming closer to the camera.
Your shy smile made you seem innocent, like you didn't just cum infront of thousands of people. Reverting back to the angel you played as, saying your signature goodbye.
With a small wave and a "please play with me again" you cut the stream.
Bakugo sat there, labored breathing as he started at the black screen that just showed you getting off now even a few seconds ago.
The only thing pulling him from his mind was the ping from on incoming message.
"Did you enjoy the performance"
---
The reveal
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canthelpit0 · 2 days ago
Text
Dacryphilia
[prev. Unreleased from kinktober 2024]
Pairing: Chris x Reader
Wordcount: 3.6K+
Summary: 4 times Chris gets aroused at your crying, and 1 time he does something about it. (Sort of?)
Warnings: smut, fantasizing, crying, sweet!chris, refer has a naval piercing, porn with a lot of plot, voice kink, praise kink
A/N: bear in mind, this is old. It was originally for the kinktober series but since I gave up on that…. Anyway. This was written 12.05.2024, so it’s just been sitting in my drafts for a while.
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00.
You and chris met at a party. It was just a month after Chris had moved to LA with his brothers.
You were both influencers and had collabed a few times before.
01.
The first time it happened Chris didn’t think anything of it.
Your boyfriend, who you had been dating for over a year had cheated on you.
Chris had met the guy once, and as soon as he had he hadn’t liked him.
Tho who was he to tell you he didn’t like your boyfriend, when you’ve been dating him for literally longer than you’ve known chris.
When you found out that your dear boyfriend was cheating on you, the first thing you did after breaking up with him and screaming, telling him to never talk to you again, was drive to the triplets house.
You wanted to see your best friends.
Even tho you’ve only known them for a few months they were one of the only genuine people in LA
You were crying in nicks arms, hysterically sobbing, and all Nick could do is be glad that you didn’t crash your car on the way here.
Matt, who’d been in the kitchen came to the living room faster than Chris.
And while Matt and Nick were doing a fine job calming you down, trying to get you to explain what happened without hyperventilating, as soon as Chris was there all the work was out of the window.
As soon as you spotted Chris at the top of the stairs and now in the living room, you ran over to him and hugged him.
He hugged you back letting you bury your face in the corner of his neck and sob into his shirt.
Chris felt a wave of dread and sadness wash over him. That was until he gently pulled your face out of his chest and looked at you.
Your eyes red and puffy. You had tear streaks running down your red-tinted cheeks. Your lips were red and puffy. You had that adorable yet sexy pout on your lips. Your eyebrows were low. your eyes narrowed in sadness.
You had no right to look that hot right now.
Chris wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t help but scan your features again.
Your mascara being waterproof only fell in black tiny little clumps. A bit of it smeared at the corner of one of your eyes lower lashes.
Chris hadn’t really ever seen a woman cry. He’s never dated anyone, so he’s just never made a woman cry. At least not that he knew of.
He tilts his head at you as if examining your face even more. You think you’re imagining it when you see his pupils dilate. You blink up at him.
The way he’s staring at you seems so outlandish that it makes you curious. Curious enough to make you momentarily forget about your sorrow.
Chris blinks seeing that your tears stopped. Seeing that you weren’t sobbing anymore. After a slight pause he snaps out of it.
Having sexual thoughts was one thing.
But having sexual thoughts about his best friend who was crying was a whole Nother thing.
In the end you started crying again while explaining what had happened.
02.
Chris was borderline scared of himself for thinking like that.
Well not really scared, but he was weirded out by himself.
You weren’t one to cry easily.
Yet today had been a horrible day.
You originally wanted to edit your newest video, just to have the revolution that the audio hadn’t picked up and that the entire 30 minutes of footage was useless.
You let go of it easily, simply sighing and letting it go.
You then decided to make yourself an iced coffee like you used to in 2020 for old times sake. The infamous whipped coffee.
When you started to use the frother on your mixture of instead coffee, sugar and hot water, you somehow managed to let the glass down out of your hands.
It landed on the floor with a loud crash and you jumped at the impact.
It wasn’t fun having to clean that up and the bottom of your pink satin pajama pants were slightly stained now.
But you sucked it up and reluctantly cleaned up.
You went to change and get ready for the day, you wore a cute button down you’d just gotten.
You walk out of your bedroom to the living room and have a mini heart attack thinking you lost your phone. Until you realized that it’s probably still in your bedroom, since you thought you took it with you.
Being clumsy as you are tho, while walking back into your bedroom you walk straight into the door handle. The door handle catches on your button down and rips off a button.
You groan. You end up searching for that damn button for too fucking long. You put the button on your desk already taking the top off to sow the button back later.
Then you remembered you were searching for your phone. So you searched every corner of your bedroom while still not wearing a top.
You decide it’s a problem for later and find yourself a new top that fits with your flared jeans.
These jeans were a little tight on you, but that meant that it just showed off your curves great. That was until you tripped on a stray sock.
You fell in a weird way. Your hands instinctively flying out to catch your body, wich caused you to twist your wrist.
With the pain in your wrist you hadn’t even heard the loud rip of your jeans.
You groan turning around to sit up. You instinctively cross your legs and hold your arm with your other arm. You sigh heavily letting your head fall forward.
When you open your eyes tho you notice a patch of skin peaking through your jeans. You pause pulling your arms out the way.
Your jeans had ripped along the seam on your inner thigh. You scoff, beyond done with today.
All you want to do at this point is go to bed and sleep, but after the iced coffee thing you’d texted Nick that you’d be coming over and you didn’t want to stand him up.
So you get up and take the jeans off once again changing your entire outfit. Then you have another mini heart attack and search for your phone.
After a while you give up and decide to go back to the living room, Your kitchen being open to the living room.
You suddenly hear the telltale sound of an iPhone notification. You look around only to see your phone blowing up on the counter of your kitchen.
After that everything goes smoothly. Well except for you consistently bumping into things.
You don’t know what’s up with you today, normally you’re not clumsy or prone to accidents at all.
Now you’re at the sturniolos house sitting in the couch. Nick had gone upstairs to change for some reason, and Matt and Chris had been in their rooms all day.
You feel thirsty and get up. You just have to go to the kitchen to get a drink, it’s not that hard-
You stub your toe. On the fucking couch table. You’d been overthinking so much, that you didn’t pay attention.
But instead of scoffing and playing it off like you have been all day you actually let out a cry at that.
It was like that was the last straw and the floodgates snap.
Chris who’d been on his way upstairs to get a Pepsi sees this unfold. He sees the way you double over in pain and start crying.
His immediate instinct is to rush up to you and ingulf you in a hug.
You weren’t really crying because you stubbed your fucking toe, you were crying because you suddenly felt every single bruise on your body that you had gained today from just bumping into shit.
You suddenly felt overwhelmed with the feelings you’d been pushing back all day.
“Sh, sh You’re okay.” Chris whispers sweetly. He lowers you both to the ground.
You sit on your legs your hand in his. It still hurt from when you fell on it earlier, you just felt it even more right now.
You let out a pathetic sob. You can’t help but look up at the ceiling trying to compose yourself.
Chris watches you with awe. He couldn’t help it. And he really felt confused of why he thought you were hot like this. A crying and sobbing mess on the floor.
Sure you were attractive, but why did he find this sight particularly arousing?
All he wanted to do was to cradle your face into the crook of his neck and whisper sweet nothings to you. And that’s just what he did.
He wanted to care for you, to soothe you and to make you calm down. He wanted to see your big glossy eyes right after you finally stopped crying.
03.
It was the week before your period. Your lower back was aching, it felt like a bunch of needles were being stabbed through you over and over.
You were feeling all emotional like you usually do the few days before your period.
The triplets were at your house once again.
They’d just invited themselves in with nicks spare key before you had woken up. You woke up just to see the three lounging in your living room and eating your snacks.
You didn’t even bat an eye at it.
You simply walk to your kitchen getting stuff for a toast ready.
Once you’re finished with preparing and making your food, you sigh. You lean against the counter plate in hand and take a bite of your warm toast feeling the cheese melt on your tongue.
Suddenly you hear Chris gasp. You look over, wich wasn’t hard since your kitchen is open to the living room.
You watch the way Chris jumps up from his seat on the couch and then proceeds to fumble around with something.
You just raise an eyebrow but keep eating your toast while it’s still warm.
You watch Chris walk around the kitchen island to you.
Chris holds out a small white paper bag. You put your plate on the counter and clap your hands together to get any and all crumbs off of them.
You swallow the food in your mouth “For me?” He nods simply.
You tenderly take the paper bag from his hands. It somehow looks fancy. You raise an eyebrow after peering into the paper bag.
You take out a small box. You slowly place the paper bag on the counter not bothering to take your eyes off of the small white box in your hands.
“Open it” he urges. Chris looks like he is about to jump out of his shoes. He’s practically radiating energy. He looks so excited.
Your eyes momentarily lock on Chris’. This was probably some jewelry, but what kind. Had he gotten you a ring, you’ve been needing some new ones in your collections. Or ear rings or-
Before you can think about it too much you’re already opening the box.
You’re greeted with the sight of jewelry for your belly button piercing. It’s cute silver jewelry with a Viviane Westwood chain dangling off of it.
Your eyes start to Involuntarily water.
You love Viviane Westwood. You had some cute earring, and when you had talked about wanting to buy the matching necklace Chris had given you his.
“When I saw this I thought of you” he explains rubbing the back of his neck slightly. He was mildly embarrassed. But it was a cute gesture.
You gently put the box on the counter next to the other stuff. You were aware that Viviane Westwood probably didn’t sell belly button rings, wich only means he’d probally gotten it off of Etsy or something.
Even tho you knew it was probably just stainless steel and not actual silver, it was the gesture, the idea that counts.
You look up at him with your teary eyes.
You wanted to damn your sappiness to hell right now, but that was probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, or at the very least that was the only thing you could think of.
You knew you probably looked like a mess. Your hair being messy, no make up on, your bottom lip quivering as you hold in tears. You were always an emotional train wreck a few days before your period starts.
“Thank you so much” you croak out.
Your vision is too blurred to notice but Chris is giving you that look again. He looks fond.
With a swift move, you wrap your arms around Chris’ neck and hug him. Out of instinct his hands go to your waist.
He sighs. “That’s so sweet” you let out under your breaths a chocked out sob following after.
You feel Chris’ arms wrap around your waist to pull you even closer.
He’d accepted it, he liked seeing you cry. Obviously he didn’t like seeing you sad, but he thought you were cute. You always were, even sobbing with mascara running down your face.
But seeing you cry out of happiness because of such a small gesture, a small gift Chris got you… that was a whole other high for him.
04.
Chris decided on a random Tuesday morning that he had nothing good to do. He felt incredibly bored.
So he decided to google random things that come to his mind.
Whether it be learning more about fish types going down the rabbit hole of the internet and what not.
He always googles random things he thought about to find out more about it so he could maybe talk about it in a car video or something.
Suddenly he thought about you and the few times he’s seen you crying.
He thought about it more, and it became apparent that he thought that crying was hot.
He googled his thoughts out in multiple diffrent ways. And at the end, the watered down version was “why do I find crying hot?”
He continued to lay in his bed semi intreated in what google had to say.
the first thing that popped up was a Wikipedia page with some title he couldn’t even pronounce.
So he continues scrolling trying to find the meaning of said word without having to klick on the link because he was too lazy to.
Dacryphilia (also known as dacrylagnia) is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing
He reads out in his head. “Huh?” Was literally all that went through his mind after reading that.
And the follow up question was “what the fuck is a paraphilia?”
So Chris went down a rabbit hole.
Chris figures out that Apparently philia is a Greek word that means “love”. Better yet, a paraphilia is apparently a non-normative sexual interest. - a fetish. Not really but almost.
The word ‘pedo-philia’ now makes a whole lot more sense. It’s a taboo fantasy. And it’s taboo for a reason ew.
Chris spirals from topic to topic almost forgetting why he even started this search.
Until he goes back in his history to read over the meaning of this thing again.
“I have a crying kink?” He says under his breath his eyes narrowed at the screen while he questions his life and everything that got him to this point.
Chris wrecks his brain to think. It’s like his brain is empty trying to process the information.
Suddenly his mind comes up with a scenario he’s all too familiar with. It’s always the same, just slight differences.
You, His best friend under him crying loudly while choking out moans while he eats you out.
Him fucking you from behind, his eyes glued on the tears rolling down your face through the mirror.
Chris, watching you come on his cock, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you break out in tears, your chest heaving while you try to catch your breath.
He sighs heavily closing his eyes. These were all thoughts he’s had before. He licks his lips his eyes locked on the ceiling. He’s hard, painfully so.
In hindsight, he doesn’t know how he thought these thoughts were average. Well first off he’s fantasizing about his best friend, but also because they seem kind of extreme.
In hindsight it makes sense
+1
Chris continues to thrust into you.
He doesn’t really know how this happened really.. it just kind of did.
He’s kept you in missionary all night thrusting into you.
Some of his messy hair strays were sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat coating his skin.
His eyes stay glued on you. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but he wishes sho much that you’ll start crying for whatever reason .
Of corse he doesn’t want to hurt you or anything, but he would love for his fantasies to become reality.
“Fuck please keep talking” you pant your eyes shutting as you try to take in this moment.
You never in a million years would’ve thought that your best friend would rail you this good.
He keeps hitting every right spot in you to make you weak in the knees.
“Mhm?” He mumbles. You groan in response. he was teasing you. You wanted to hear him talk, and praise you, but instead he was waiting for you to beg for it.
“Come on” you whine. Your head is thrown back at the overwhelming amount of pleasure.
“Eyes on me ma.” He demands. So without any second thought, your eyes snap open and connect with his.
He’s looking down at you with so much love in his eyes, it’s almost painful. Despite literally fucking you dumb right now, he’s looking at you with such intense need and desire it almost makes you melt.
Your mouth drops open when he quickens his pace even more.
Your legs stay wrapped around his torso trying to keep him close.
“So pretty” he breaths out. One of his hands mindlessly grabs one of your boobs starting to toy with it.
He keeps thrusting into you, and the intensity, both physical and emotional, makes your eyes water.
You really were not an overly emotional person, but this good ass sex was making you weak and you silently curse yourself for it.
You let out a slight sob. You immediately fell embarrassed, you slam one of your hands on your mouth to shut yourself up the other one still tangled in your bedsheets.
His eyes widen seeing your eyes become glassy. He felt a corse of adrenaline shoot through him.
“You okay?” His thrusts don’t waver, he doesn’t seem phased by your tears, if anything, only more turned on.
You nod eagerly. You try to make it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to stop since you’re getting close.
He lets out a breath his eyes becoming somehow even darker. “Let me hear you” he says under his breath. His tone is so low but borderline seductive.
He grabs your wrist pulling your hand from your mouth. You have tears running down your face ruining your once perfect make up.
You close your eyes in embarrassment while you can’t help the few sobs between moans. Chris’ desire only seems to be fueled more as he keeps up pace.
You feel the rubber band in your stomach twist up so uncomfortably, ready to snap at any moment.
“Eyes on me or I’ll stop.” Chris threatens gruffly. And as soon as your glossy eyes meet his again,his pace only seems to get messier and more uncontrolled.
You can’t even warn him through your loud sobs, whines and moans, and before you know it you’re creaming a round his cock.
The impact of your orgasm feels like a brick to your head. you feel lightheaded, your eyes only watering more while you can’t seem to keep quiet for the life of you.
Chris is close behind you, and seeing the expression you make, trying to keep your eyes open, but not being able to focus, along with the tear stains on your cheeks and the mixture of sobs and moans, sends him over the edge.
He doesn’t even bother pulling out instead giving you a few more deep and significantly slower thrusts to help you both through your highs.
You blink the tears in your eyes away trying to compose yourself. You honestly don’t know why you have such a man emotional reactions with Chris.
“So pretty” Chris coos. He leans down cupping your face and showers you in kisses. He doesn’t even bother pulling out while he does so.
“You’re not disgusted?” You breathe out. You’ve only cried once during sex before and it was your first time. The guy had been disgusted at it, but ‘let it slide’ since it was your first time.
“No.” Chris chuckles leaving a long kiss on your forehead. “Why would I be?”
His goofy grin makes you smile.
You watch Chris lick his lips. “I’m sorry I’d didn’t ask this before, but.. uh, can you be my girlfriend?” He starts to get more shy again his eyes soften as he looks down at you.
He looks at you with practically heart shaped eyes.
You feel happy when he asks you tho, you don’t want to be his fuck buddy, you want to be his.
“Yes” you breathe out looking up at him.
Chris connects your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, one that makes your heart melt.
he pulls away with a boyish smile. He slowly pulls out his eye never leaving your face. “I’ll be right back” he mumbles pecking your cheek.
He gets up quickly putting on his boxers, he practically sprints into your bathroom.
You smile at the eagerness. Your new boyfriend was just the sweetest.
Masterlist
‼️ please don’t copy my work/idea‼️
A/N: proofread, but English is not my first language so idk. Tell me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist. I do not write for the triplets anymore, this is a draft.
Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog , @jetaimevous , @imwetforyourmom , @yoongslvr69 , @ilovethesturnstriplets , @obsessionsarenotfortheweak , @mininishiriki , @bigbootyjudyyyy , @harry-winkes , @likefirenrain , @emely9274
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cynicalclassicist · 4 hours ago
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I'm not even into sport but yes! I read The Monk and ASOIAF and write some smut myself!
interested in sex the same way you can be a sports fan without ever playing a single sport
*reading absolute filth and humming thoughtfully* fascinating.
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dilf-hunter-fantasies · 2 days ago
Text
[900 words of fluff, smut, and breeding kink]
Daydreaming about...
Husband!Joel Miller and the first time it slipped from your lips.
You hadn’t meant for it to happen. 
It was a sultry summer evening, the kind where the air still clung to you even after the sun dipped below the horizon. You’d both been a little buzzed, the walk home from the neighborhood block party filled with laughter and teasing touches. 
Joel had barely managed to close the front door before his lips were on yours, his hands greedy and warm as they wandered under your sundress.
It had been the kind of night where everything felt heightened—the taste of his tongue against yours, the way his calloused palms felt against your skin, and how his every touch seemed to unravel you. He’d taken you to bed with that intense, unfiltered adoration in his eyes, the kind that always left you weak in the knees. 
He was almost too much, murmuring worshipful praises into your ear, and against every inch of your skin. He had that sparkle in his eyes that made you melt. Everything was a pleasant blur, the way your bodies fit together, your giggles as he nearly growled, trying to pull you closer. 
The haze of his tender, overwhelming love, was more intoxicating than the warmth of the sun and the last hints of alcohol buzzing in your veins. He was pure devotion, attuned to every part of your body, every thought you might have, and coaxing you into a state of euphoria. 
You didn’t even realize you were talking, rambling softly between gasping breaths as he rocked into you, filling you to the brim until your eyes rolled back. But you’d been singing sweet praises right back to him. 
“So good,” you whispered. “Just like that, fuck.” 
And he did exactly as you said, hitting that perfect angle that had you floating away, lost in the bliss. 
And then it happened. 
Slipping free, soft and breathy between moans. “Oh, fuck,” your brows scrunching together in that way they always did when you were close. “Cum deep, baby, I need it.” Another moan rolled through you as he thrust his cock so deep it kissed the end of you. “That’s it. I want to carry it inside me, always. Fill me up until it takes, Joel.” 
Joel had frozen for a moment, his gaze locking on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His cock twitched inside of you like he was somehow even harder than he’d ever been. Something primal flickered in his dark eyes, his jaw tightening before he let out a deep, guttural groan. 
Whatever switch you’d flipped in him sent him spiraling into something wild, feral. He’d pumped into you like it was his sole purpose, whispering filth and adoration in equal measure, his body relentless against yours until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. A tangled vine of limbs. 
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Now, a couple of years into your marriage, that same insatiable energy has returned. But this time it’s real. Tangible. The decision to start trying for a baby had been an exciting one, but you hadn’t anticipated how it would unleash a new, unstoppable side of your husband.
Joel’s been radiating pure, unadulterated want for weeks now. It’s in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire universe. It’s in his hands, which can’t seem to stay off you, whether he’s tugging you into his lap on the couch, pressing against you in the kitchen, or pulling you into the shower under the guise of saving water.
You’re attempting to finish making dinner when you feel him behind you. His strong arms slide around your waist, his chest pressing firmly against your back. His hands find their way to your hips first, then drift upward, cupping your breasts as his thumbs tease over the sensitive peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt.
“Sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice rough and low, sending shivers down your spine. “How am I s’posed to keep my hands off ya when you look like this?”
“Joel,” you protest weakly, though the way your breath catches betrays you. “I’m trying to cook.”
“Don’t care,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Need you, darlin’. Right here, right now.” His hands trail lower, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your leggings, and you’re gone, dinner long forgotten as he husks into your ear about how he’s gotta keep you filled up. Spouting off nonsense like how he can hear your pussy beggin’ for him, how she’s feelin’ empty and needs him too.
And somehow, no matter how filthy and feral he gets for you, it’s endearing. Wrapped in love and yearning for the idea of a family. Of more to love. 
The rest of your days—and nights—follow the same pattern. 
You find yourself pinned against the kitchen counter, bent over the couch, tangled in the sheets. He’s unstoppable, each touch, kiss, and thrust carrying a purpose that leaves you trembling and breathless.
Even at work, he’s insatiable. A quick trip to his job site to drop off his lunch turns into a heated, stolen moment in the back of your car. His kisses are ravenous, his hands rough but loving as he pulls you into his lap, his gruff voice murmuring, “Can’t wait, baby. Need you now.”
Every touch feels like a vow, every whispered word a promise. Joel loves you with his whole being, and now, with the thought of building a family together, that love has taken on an obsessive edge that leaves you dizzy and utterly devoted to him.
Late one night, as you lie together in the afterglow, his hand splayed possessively over your lower belly, he looks at you with those hearts in his eyes.
“This time,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I feel it.” 
And you believe him. 
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