#DJ x Commander

[bichiisannii]

🔥10 more!!!🔥

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Monthly Roundup: June-September 2024

Hello, friends! Welcome to my monthly roundup, where I post links to all the fics, chapters, HCs, art, designs and ask responses I've published the previous month so there's a quick and easy way for readers to find my newest works. This roundup will cover everything I shared from June through September.

Fic requests are closed. Outstanding requests will be filled as soon as possible.

Note: I always accept HC and OC asks, even when fic requests are closed.

🍋 denotes mature content 🍋

Fics

🍋"Too Early"🍋 (Crosshair x Fem!Reader)

🍋"Watch and Learn, City Boy, Part 2: Autumn"🍋 (Sergeant Hound x Fem!Reader)

🍋"In the Matter of Marshal Commander Fox vs. the Stocking Kink, the Court Finds the Defendant Filthy."🍋 (Fox x Fem!Reader)

Art, Designs, HCs and Ask Responses

OC art: Oisin

Luci Salentino art (OC of @freesia-writes)

OC art: Cerra Kilian

🍋Savage Opress art🍋

🍋Headcanon: Hardcase and Fox have stocking kinks🍋

Click to see previous monthly roundups

[wizardofrozz]

YOU ARE SPOILING US 🥵 I need to go touch grass holy hell.

Your mouth waters and you desperately want to drop to your knees and suck the mean streak right out of him.

This line encompasses exactly how Wolffe makes me feel 🥴

F*** Diplomacy

Summary: On another relief mission, you find yourself in a sticky situation. Luckily there's a certain Commander to give you a hand.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, sorta sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, grinding, clothed sex, growling, biting, brief blood, dirty talk, language, Wolffe being Wolffe, confession of feelings.

A/N: I wrote this in the bathroom during an IBS flare up so please forgive if it makes no sense. I am out of it like crazy but must share the smut with y'all because I have no self control.

MASTERLIST

You could laugh. You wouldn’t dare, though. Your sense of self-preservation is far too high to do something like that. 

It was no secret your commander hates relief missions. 

It's only natural your battalion was chosen to head another relief mission. You think Wolffe actually growled when the Generals ended the call. 

You know how much Wolffe hates relief missions. At least this time his favorite droid won't be going. There was no need for a protocol droid this time. You were delivering supplies and setting up shelters after a Separatist attack. The Republic needs the continued support of this particular planet due to its location near two critical hyperspace lanes, so you were going to help keep the Republic in good graces in the eyes of the inhabitants. 

You would have chosen anyone but Wolffe for this mission. 

The gruff commander wasn't exactly the most diplomatic, and you suppose that's why he'd grabbed you by the pack and hauled you onto the gunship with him and the rest of the Wolf Pack as you'd been loading up. 

It's also no secret you're the Wolf Pack's favorite medic. You had been graced with the sigil on your uniform not long after your reassignment to the 104th. You had been among the many medics shipped off to refill the ranks after the loss of most of the battalion. 

You'd been the one to hold Wolffe's head in your lap, staunching the bleeding after his unfortunate incident with the wrong end of a lightsaber. 

You'd been adopted into the Pack not long after, named their honorary medic despite your status as a civilian contractor. 

You tried not to blush as Wolffe all but lifted you into the gunship with one hand. You'd be lying if you said you weren't harboring a small crush on your commander. It was hard not to crush on any of them, but the gruff commander held a special place in your heart. Maybe it was the way he looked at you as you comforted him after he lost his eye, or maybe it was the way he kept you close whenever you were going to potentially dangerous areas. You know he still feels the loss of his original battalion to this day. 

The gunship rattles as it takes off, your hand lifting to hold one of the handles to keep yourself steady. You don't get off the cruiser often, but you're always excited when you do. You've always wanted to travel, to visit places all over the galaxy. Maybe that's what led you to join the GAR. 

You certainly don't regret it, even if it is hard sometimes.

You can feel Wolffe's arm brushing your side as you sway with the movements of the gunship. You're sure your cheeks are red by now and you're glad your back is to the rest of the Pack. You'd never hear the end of it. 

Wolffe exits the ship first when it lands, offering you a hand to help you down. You take it, even though you could make it easily yourself. 

You jump right into helping, working with the other medics to get the tent set up and ready to start treating any wounded villagers. You'd love to be able to watch Wolffe's attempts at diplomacy, but you are here to do a job. Ogling your commander is not part of that. 

***

You're kept busy throughout the day. Most of the injuries you see are minor. Many bandages and bacta patches later, you finally take a break. One of the villagers offers you a cup of warm liquid and you accept, not having had much of a break to eat or drink anything. The liquid is sweet and slightly tangy, coating your mouth and throat as you drink it, but it’s not unpleasant. 

You finish the liquid before making your way through the village. 

You find Wolffe gathered around the fire with the village leaders. It's colder on the planet than you would have expected with the sun out. You slip in between Wolffe and Sinker, taking in the warmth of the fire. 

Wolffe glances down at you as you settle in beside him, before he turns his gaze back to the village leaders. 

You sit and listen to them talk, your mind starting to wander a bit. You can feel the warmth of the bodies beside you, almost more than the fire in front of you. Something begins to tingle under your skin, making your hair stand on end. 

One of the village leaders is staring at you, her face focused. She's been staring at you for a while, no emotion or expression in her gaze. The attention is making you a bit uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to hide behind Wolffe. 

You begin to warm, a cramping feeling starting in your stomach. You press a hand to your abdomen right below your belly button. Maybe you're more hungry than you thought.

The ache in your stomach continues, progressively getting worse. You couldn't possibly be sick. There were no unknown diseases on this planet you could have been exposed to. You had drank whatever it was that woman had given you. Maybe that was causing your distress. 

"Excuse me." You say quietly as you step away, slipping through buildings until you're on the edge of the village. 

You brace a hand against the side of one of the buildings as another cramp spasms in your stomach. The air no longer feels cold as your body warms. Maybe you are sick. 

You take a few steps into the trees, not wanting to be sick where someone might see you. You take deep breaths, screwing your eyes closed. The last thing you need is to be sick during a diplomatic mission. 

Your ears pick up a sound in the distance, your brows furrowing. Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow the sound, walking through the trees.

You stop on the edge of a small clearing, your eyes widening. The woman that had given you the drink is pressed up against a tree, completely bare. There's a man behind her, snapping his hips into hers. Both of their eyes are closed, faces twisted in pleasure. 

Your face burns as you back away, breathing heavily. Kriff, you think. You had read something about this planet's mating seasons. The attack had happened right in the middle of one. 

Kriff. 

Your core throbs, your brain replaying the image of the man and woman over and over. The faces begin to shift, morphing into you and Wolffe. His hands gripping your hips, growling as he fucks into you. 

Oh kriff. 

You need to get on a gunship and back to the cruiser immediately. The drug could kill you if you're not careful. 

Your name is called, your eyes squeezing shut as you curse. Just who you don't want to see. You turn to him, probably looking as wild as you feel. Wide eyed, sweat dripping, legs trembling. Thank the maker he can't read your mind as he struts closer to you. 

You know he's big. You just know it. 

"Everything alright?" Wolffe asks, stopping a few feet in front of you. 

"I need to get to the med center on the cruiser." You say, voice shaking almost as much as your legs. 

He frowns, looking you over. "Are you sick?"

"I'm going to be." You murmur, swaying on your feet. 

You audibly whimper when Wolffe puts his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. His hand is so warm, the weight of it enough to send you spiraling into visions of him on top of you, those hands all over your body. You screw your eyes shut, not able to look at him anymore. 

"What's going on?" You can practically hear the growl in his voice. Slick floods your panties, soaking them right through. 

"It's mating season." You say, not brave enough to open your eyes. "They gave me an aphrodisiac." 

"What?" Wolffe asks in disbelief.

"This planet has mating seasons. They use aphrodisiacs to help. I drank one." You explain. "I didn't know what it was when she gave it to me."

His grip on your shoulder tightens, another whimper leaving your throat. You want him to squeeze your hips, your thighs, your ass. You want him to hold you so tightly he leaves bruises. You want him to sink his teeth into your throat and claim you as his-

You don't realize he's been talking. 

"I need help." You whimper. "I could die if I don't get something." The last word leaves you in a whine. You want a cock, you want Wolffe's cock inside you. 

"What can I do?" He asks. 

"I-I'm not in my right mind." You frown, eyes still closed. "I-I can't. I can't take advantage of you like that."

He steps closer. You can feel the warmth of him against your body. He's so close, his breath fanning your heated skin. "What if I want to."

You finally let your eyes open, your gaze meeting his. His brow is furrowed, gaze intense as he stares down at you. 

"Kriff, I've been waiting for you to ask me for a long time, mesh'la." He all but growls, the hand on your shoulder sliding down your arm. It leaves goosebumps in its wake, the fabric of his glove rough against your sensitive skin. "Do you know why I keep you so close to me?" He tilts his head, bending down closer to you. 

You lift up on your toes, shaking your head. "No, sir."

He does growl this time, the sound vibrating in his throat as he smirks. "It's because I keep hoping for the right moment to kiss you."

"All you had to do was ask." You murmur, closing the distance between you.

Your back hits a tree as your lips meet, his body pressing tight against yours. His hand lifts to your face, tugging on your chin until you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside, flicking it against yours. You moan into his mouth, the heat under your skin practically begging you to devour him. 

His hands slide down your body to your hips as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. You taste blood, but you don't care as he presses his codpiece against your pelvis. You moan at the friction, grinding yourself against the hard plastoid. 

"Kriff, just like that, mesh'la." He groans. "Gonna cum just like that?"

You continue to grind against him, nodding. "Yes. Fuck, Wolffe!"

He smirks, letting you work yourself up desperately against him. "Good girl."

He lets you continue to grind against him, his hand slipping behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You whine, his touch almost painful but you don't care. 

"Gonna...gonna cum." You pant, desperately grinding against his codpiece. 

"Cum for me." He growls, pushing harder against you. 

Your head as you cum with a cry, hips jerking against his codpiece. You can feel the bulge under it, a promise of what's coming next. 

The heat under your skin abates for just a moment, your mind clearing enough for you to catch your breath. You taste blood as you lick your lips, staring up at Wolffe. 

"I need more." You gasp out, heart thumping wildly in your chest. "It won't be enough."

Wolffe bites the tip of his glove, tugging one off. He tucks it into his belt before his hand cups the spot between your legs. You're hot and damp under your uniform, slick dripping down your thighs. You need more, you need touch. 

You press your hips against his hand, desperate for more. He tugs your belt off dropping it in the grass. His hand slips under your waistband, rough fingers gliding through your slick folds. 

An absolutely primal noise leaves you as he finally touches you, more slick gushing out to coat his fingers.

He chuckles, fingers ghosting over your clit. "Such a needy little thing." 

"Please." You whimper. "Please. Need you so bad."

"What do you need, baby. Tell me." 

"Your cock." You whine, grinding against his hand desperately. "I need your cock inside me."

He pulls his hand from your pants, making you sob. "Ask politely. I am your commander, remember?"

You gulp, getting wetter as he stares down at you with that intense gaze. "Please, sir. I need your cock inside me."

He grins, stroking your cheek with his slick fingers. "That's my good girl." 

You practically preen under him, legs shaking in anticipation. 

"Take it off." He growls, leaning in closer to your face.

You reach forward, pulling off his codpiece. You can feel the heat blooming under your skin again, your brain filling with fantasies of what's about to happen. You drop his codpiece in the grass, your hand rubbing the bulge in his blacks. He's so big, hard and pulsing against the fabric. 

You slip your hand in, closing your fingers around his cock. Your mouth waters and you desperately want to drop to your knees and suck the mean streak right out of him. You know you can't waste much time, though. You need to fix this problem and get back before the others start looking for you. 

You pull him free of his blacks, marveling at the size of him in your palm. You jerk him a couple times, letting your eyes lift back to his face. His gaze isn't soft or gentle by any means. It's...admiration, you think? Something not usually in his gaze when looking at others. 

"Take your pants off." He rasps, pushing your hand from his cock. He takes it in his own hand, jerking it as you work on tugging your pants down. 

You get one leg out before he pounces, gripping your thigh tightly to tug that leg around his waist. You lean back against the tree, holding his gaze as he drags his cock through your folds. 

You mewl needily, trying to push your hips closer to him. He finally takes pity on you, slipping his cock inside your pussy. You moan at the stretch, your body opening for him. You know it's the aphrodisiac doing most of the work, making your body well prepared for him without needing any extra stimulation or preparation. 

The feeling of his cock stretching you open forces the worry of any lingering side effects out of your mind. He pins you against the tree, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He pauses once he's inside you, letting out a groan. He lips brush your neck as he feels you pulse around him, body desperate for any sort of relief. You cling to his shoulders, his armor digging into your skin but you don't care. The pain only adds to the sensation, more wetness seeping out around his cock. 

"Making a mess of us and I haven't even started yet." He smirks. "You naughty little thing."

You whimper at his words, trying to grind your hips against him for any sort of relief. "Please, sir." You whine. "Please fuck me."

He nips at your neck, humming quietly. "Since you asked so nicely."

He draws his cock from your walls until just the tip is inside before slamming his hips forward, forcing his cock back inside. You gasp at the sensation, clinging to him as he repeats the motion, jolting your body with every thrust into you. 

The bark of the tree drags against your skin but you don't care. You'll worry about the discomfort later. All you care about is Wolffe and his cock inside you. 

"Harder." You gasp, threading your fingers in his hair. "Fuck me harder, please."

A groan rumbles in his chest as he draws his hips back before picking up the pace, fucking into you hard. You cling to him as he takes you roughly, hips slamming against yours. You'll have bruises but you don't care. 

"So kriffing good." He groans, panting into your neck. "So tight and hot. Such good pussy, baby. All for me. All mine." 

"Yours." You gasp, hardly able to form words from the pleasure rushing through your body. "Only yours." 

"Gonna cum for me?" He asks, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your clit. "Gonna cum around my cock?"

You cry out his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, walls spasming around him as pleasure burns through your veins, nearly whiting out your vision. 

His hips stutter, a growl rumbling through his chest as he cums, hips slamming into yours as he fills your pussy. 

You're gasping for breath, still clinging to him as you come down from your high. 

"Fuck, babe." He groans, pulling back just slightly. The front of his armor and his blacks are soaked. 

"Oh kriff." You breathe. You can still feel the heat lingering under your skin. 

Wolffe pulls himself free of you, tucking himself back unto his blacks. "Made a big mess of us, didn't you?"

You nod, legs shaking as you try to stand on them. He chuckles, helping you back into your pants, putting your belt back on before his codpiece. 

"Come on, mesh'la." He says, scooping you into his arms. "Let's get you back to the ship." 

"But what about the mission?" You ask, resting your head on his shoulder. 

"Fuck diplomacy." He says, carrying you back to the gunships. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

[santobambis]

ROCK WITH YOU — K. Mingyu

blurb — in which you show your idol boyfriend exactly how much you want to rock with him

pairing — kim mingyu x afab!reader

warnings — lowkey your typical pwp, idol!gyu, reader's just as messy as he <3 dry h/umping <3 but overall p tame.

word count — 843!

note — he looks so fine in the new cb 💔 shame about you know who dj. being featured

You straddled Mingyu, your heart racing as you felt the heat radiating between you. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his. Mingyu's large hands settled on your waist, thick fingers digging in slightly as he guided you, encouraging you to take the lead.

'Just like that,' he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. You tilted your hips, finding that perfect rhythm. The way he watched you, dark eyes filled with desire, made you feel alive. You could feel the intensity of his gaze as you rocked your hips against him, every swivel igniting the fire building within you both.

'Ah, Mingyu!,' you breathed, feeling the tension coil tighter. He smirked, his lips curling at the corners, clearly enjoying the sight of you lost in pleasure, the sharp points of his teeth picking out from under his wine-red lips. 'You like this, don’t you?,' you teased, leaning forward slightly, your chest brushing against his broad frame.

'More than you know, baby,' he replied, his voice thick with longing, almost a whine. You could feel his hands tightening on your hips, a silent plea for you to keep going. With each roll of your body, you revelled in the contact, the way he responded to every shift and grind of your clothed cunt over his leather pants.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with the faint notes of cologne that lingered in the air, intoxicating and warm. Each roll of your hips elicited soft grunts from him, the sound reverberating in the small, dimly lit space. It was a melody just for you, a primal symphony that made you crave more, made you crave his fingers running through the slick gloss that had surely gathered between your thighs.

'God, you’re perfect,' he groaned, his voice deep and thick, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his muscles tensed under your touch as you picked up the pace.

As you leaned in closer, you caught the faint scent of his shampoo, like sweet citrus, mixed with the lingering notes of adrenaline and excitement from the stadium show he had just played. It made you dizzy, the way everything about him drew you in. You could feel the tension building, a delicious pressure that threatened to consume you both.

Mingyu's hands gripped your waist tighter, digging in as if he were anchoring himself to you.

'Don’t stop,' he urged, his voice low and commanding, sending a thrill through you. You could hear the urgency in his tone, the way he was losing himself in the moment just as you were. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in this electric connection.

Every sound — his breath, the soft whimpers escaping your lips, the faint rustle of fabric—seemed amplified in the intimate space. You felt alive, every nerve ending tingling as you moved, the scent of desire hanging heavy in the air. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the way your body responded to his every word, every touch.

In that moment, nothing else mattered.

The way Mingyu's breath hitched as you found your rhythm sent shivers down your spine. Each roll of your hips drew a low drawn-out groan from his lips, music sweeter than anything the crowd outside could ever create. 'That’s it,' he murmured, his voice thick with desire, urging you on.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, 'I want to feel you. His response was a sharp intake of breath, the heat radiating from him making your heart race even faster, and you felt him tremor slightly.

The air grew thick with the smell of sweat and leather, and your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you changed the angle, driving deeper into his hardened, clothed member. Mingyu's hands were firm on your waist, guiding you, but the way you moved made it clear that you were the one in control.

'God, you’re incredible,' he breathed, his voice nearly drowned out by the pounding of your heart. You could see the way his eyes darkened with need, the intensity of his gaze fuelling your confidence. You revelled in the way he reacted to you, the way his body responded with each roll of your hips.

'Almost there, oh!,' you whispered, feeling every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Mingyu's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging in as he urged you to go faster, to push both of you over the edge. The air was thick with the promise of release, and you could feel it building, ready to spill over at any moment.

With one final thrust of your hips, you felt the wave crash over you, a rush of pleasure that left you breathless. You felt a rush — the entirety of the heat as Mingyu’s heady moans mixed with your own.

[xo-hoon]

club nights — DJ p.sh

minors do not interact!

pairing: dj!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers (maybe)

synopsis: you just wanted to unwind after studying hard for your upcoming exams. little did you expect that your quest for relaxation turned into an electrifying connection that left you pleasantly surprised.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: contains smut MDNI! unprotected sex (don’t..), fingering, public sexual interaction, clubbing, intimate dancing, slight alcohol consumption.

You were sprawled on your bed, textbooks and notes scattered around like a battlefield.

You were powering through your study session, knowing full well you'd ace your exams. This was more about keeping the edge sharp than actual worry.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Wonyoung

Wony🐰: big night for jay’s celebration. clubbing’s on us. come on, you deserve a break!

You smirked, your focus momentarily shifting from the textbooks. Before you could reply, Winter’s call came through.

“Y/N, you coming to Jay’s party? It’s gonna be epic. You need to let loose for a bit."

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Just finishing up some stuff first.”

You answered with a casual tone.

Winter chuckled.

“Thought you might say that. See you soon.”

You ended the call and tossed your phone aside, gathered your things with a practiced efficiency, and slipped into your clubbing gear—something that combined effortless style with a hint of rebellion.

The exams were no sweat, but tonight was about embracing the energy and leaving the stress behind.

As you headed out, you knew you’d hit the ground running again tomorrow, but for now, it was time to reclaim the night.

The lights flicker in a chaotic dance with the bass, casting shadows that meld with the crowd's movement. You were nestled in a dimly lit corner, nursing a drink that’s losing its chill. Your friends are lost in the pulsating rhythm on the dance floor, but you're craving something different—something with an edge.

As you watched the swarming sea of bodies, you catch snippets of conversations and laughter. The usual group of guys has wandered over, but their small talk falls flat. They offer nothing but predictable flattery and lackluster charm.

Your gaze sweeps through the crowd until it landed on the DJ.

He was almost surreal, his features striking and chiseled as if crafted by divine hands. The way he commands the decks, lost in the rhythm, makes him look effortlessly magnetic. Every movement is fluid and intense, and there’s an undeniable allure about him that keeps your eyes locked on him.

But despite your fascination, you held back from approaching. You’ve always been the one to stay aloof, letting others make the first move.

Tonight, you were determined to stick to that principle.

If he’s interested, he’ll have to find a way to chase you—because that's how things have always worked for you.

You spent the night there, stealing glances at him from time to time. You knew right then and there that you wanted him.

—

Over the past few weeks, you've returned to this exact club every night, disregarding your exams because you knew you'd ace them anyway.

The club was throbbing with energy as usual, and you were nestled in your favorite corner, watching the DJ work his magic at the booth. The music feels particularly electrifying, and your focus remains unwaveringly on him. A mix of curiosity and desire simmers beneath your cool exterior.

As the night wears on, a sober friend of a friend, someone you’ve seen around but never spoken to, strikes up a conversation with you. He was a regular and seems to know everything about the club’s inner workings.

After a few exchanged pleasantries and a bit of small talk, he leans in conspiratorially, as if sharing a well-kept secret.

“You know,” he says with a smirk, nodding toward the DJ booth, “that guy up there? His name is Park Sunghoon. He’s not just some random DJ. He’s actually loaded. His family’s got more money than they know what to do with.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he continues, “He’s got this whole other life. Runs a bunch of businesses and everything. But he’s here every night, spinning records because he genuinely loves it. He’s quite famous around here; definitely one of the best assets of this club. And despite the fact that girls are practically falling over themselves for him, he couldn’t care less. It’s like he’s got this whole detached cool thing going on. Makes him even more interesting, don’t you think?”

You were taken aback, sensing that he’s aware of your interest. “So, why does he stick around here if he’s got all that?”

The informant’s smirk widens, as if he’s been waiting for you to ask.

“Well, it’s obvious you’ve been keeping an eye on him. I figured you’d want to know. He sticks around because this is his sanctuary. No one bothers him about business or family here.”

You nod, feeling a mix of surprise and satisfaction at his perceptiveness. “Sounds like he’s got a lot more going on.”

“Exactly,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with knowing. “And he’s not one for easy connections. If you want to get to know him, you’ll have to bring something real to the table. He’s not impressed by the usual attempts.”

The revelation hits you with a jolt of excitement. The fact that Sunghoon is both wealthy and dedicated to his craft, combined with his indifference to the attention he gets, only deepens the intrigue you feel.

You thanked your informant with a nod, and he headed off, leaving you to process this new layer of mystery surrounding Sunghoon.

As the night progressed, you watched him with renewed interest. His effortless charisma and the way he immerses himself in his music take on a new significance. There’s a sense of challenge now, a question of whether you can penetrate the cool facade and discover what lies beneath.

The Next Night

You were at the club again, drink in hand, the familiar beat of the music pulsing through the air. The night is set for its usual course: you’re in your favorite corner, eyes fixed on Sunghoon at the DJ booth. It’s become a bit of a routine for you—an exercise in patience and subtlety.

Tonight, you were ready for what you have expected. To be just another night of silently sending your unspoken message: “Fuck me.”

You figured if you stared hard enough, he might have somehow pick up on it. It’s a game you’ve gotten used to, even if it seemed a little ridiculous. You were so focused on him until a guy approached you.

The guy was tall and confident, his smile effortlessly charming. "Hey there. Care for a dance?"

Normally, you’d turn a man down without a second thought, but tonight, you were feeling a bit adventurous. You considered the offer, a spark of curiosity piqued by the idea of doing something different. With a playful smile, you sat your drink down and nodded.

“Sure,” you said, rising from your seat. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As you headed towards the dance floor, you stole one last glance at Sunghoon, who was focused on his turntables but would glance at your way occasionally.

You wondered if he noticed your change in routine. The night just might turned out to be more interesting than you’d anticipated.

The music is pulsating, and the crowd is moving in sync with the beats. As you start dancing, you make sure to catch Sunghoon’s eye, knowing he was watching.

You danced seductively, grinding and moving in intimate ways with the guy, all the while keeping Sunghoon in your peripheral vision. The guy seems to enjoy the attention but notices your focus elsewhere.

As you were dancing, you felt a presence behind you. The guy you were dancing with seemed to have sensed it too and steps aside, giving way to the new arrival.

And there he was. The famous Park Sunghoon emerges from the crowd, his gaze locked on you with a smirk.

He approached with purpose, his confidence radiating.

"Mind if I cut in?" Sunghoon’s voice was deep and smooth, and you can hear the hint of a challenge in it.

You turned to face him, your heart racing. "Not at all," you replied, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

Sunghoon took the guy’s place, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close. The intensity between you two is palpable, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"You’ve been coming here a lot," Sunghoon murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hmm, I have my reasons."

"Really? And what might that reason be?" Sunghoon asks, his voice low and intrigued.

You teased, "You'll have to find out."

Sunghoon's smile widens, and he pulled you even closer. The music faded into the background as you focused solely on each other. His hands were firm but gentle on your body, guiding you as you moved to the beat. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and you can feel the passion building.

"So, what made you decide to come back here night after night?" Sunghoon asked, his lips brushing against your ear.

You shivered at his touch, your voice barely a whisper. "I’m seeing someone."

"Someone like me?" he probed, his tone both teasing and serious.

"Maybe," you replied with a playful smile. "Or maybe someone who makes me feel this way."

Sunghoon's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you. "And what is that feeling?"

You met his gaze, your voice steady but filled with longing. "Excited. Alive. Wet. Like I can’t get enough."

Sunghoon’s fingers traced a path down your side, sending shivers through you. "You’re making it hard for me to keep my distance."

You leaned closer, your lips almost touching his ear. "Then don’t."

The dance floor seems to blur around you as you lose yourself in the moment. Sunghoon's touch is electrifying, and you can feel the heat between you growing stronger. The music was pulsing around you, creating a perfect backdrop for the connection you're building.

After a few more songs, Sunghoon took your hand and guided you through the crowd, out of the club and into the cool night air. The contrast between the stifling heat of the club and the crispness of the night is refreshing.

You walked in silence for a moment, the adrenaline from the dance still coursing through your veins.

Sunghoon led you to a quieter, darker alleyway behind the club, away from prying eyes. The city's sounds faded as you stepped into the shadows, and he turned to face you. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, and you felt the electric charge between you.

He pressed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours in a fiery kiss. The urgency and passion of his touch took your breath away, and you responded eagerly, your hands exploring his body as his hands finds their way to your curves. Every touch, every kiss is a whirlwind of sensation, and you lost yourself in the moment.

Sunghoon’s hands slid under your dress, and you gasped as he found the sensitive spots that made you shiver. Your moans were muffled by his mouth as he kissed you deeply, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you.

His touch was both rough and tender, igniting a fire within you. You can feel his desire growing, and it heightens your own.

He lifted you slightly, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The alleyway’s cold walls press against your back, but the warmth of his body and the intensity of his touch creates a cocoon of heat around you. The world outside seems distant and irrelevant; it's just the two of you and the throbbing beat of your hearts.

He pulled back slightly, making you slightly groan at the lack of closeness, his breath mingling with yours. His gaze is full of raw emotion, and you saw the hunger in his eyes.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You smiled, your voice a soft purr. “That’s the idea.”

With renewed passion, Sunghoon's hands grew bolder as they roamed over your body, starting from your legs and moving up to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

The touch elicited a soft whimper from you, a sound that made his eyes darken with desire. Taking advantage of the moment, he plunged his tongue into your mouth, exploring it thoroughly and claiming it as his own.

He lifted on of your legs off the ground, securing your waist in a possessive grip as he pressed your body tightly against his.

Your fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path from his neck down to his broad chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles under your fingertips. They continued their journey to his defined abs, each touch sending shivers of excitement through you.

Just as you were about to reach for his clothed cock, his hand shot out to stop you, and with a swift, controlled movement, he pinned both your hands above your head, holding them there firmly.

“Fuck… Not so fast, baby.” He whispered in your mouth as you looked up at him, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His eyes were dark and filled with desire.

“S-sunghoon.. please—“ He smirked at the sight of your neediness.

“Shh, let me handle this.” He lowered his head, trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a blazing trail of heat in his wake. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His other hand roamed over your body, exploring every curve and inch of your exposed skin that he could, making you even needier and wetter than you already were.

“Sunghoon… Please. I need you.” He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Patience, baby. Good things come from those who wait.”

His lips captured yours once again, and this time the kiss was sloppy and even more intense, filled with a hunger that leaves you breathless. He releases your hands, and you immediately tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

“I can’t wait anymore.”

“I know, baby.” He whispered against your lips.

With that, he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you to a more secluded area of the club, where the lights are dim and the music is just a distant thrum. He sets you down on a couch, his body pressing against yours.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked genuinely, you locked your eyes with his as you nodded.

“I have never been more sure,”

Sunghoon groaned at your response as his hands roam over your body again, this time more urgent, more demanding.

He slips his hand under your dress, fingers teasing the edge of your panties.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He stared in to your eyes, his hand slipping inside your panties, fingers finding your most sensitive spot. You moan into his mouth, your body arching into his touch.

He continued to rub circles on your clit, thoroughly enjoying the expression you were giving him. You moved your hand to his, pushing his fingers deeper, indicating that you wanted him to give you more.

“So, so needy,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and desire. He leaned in, licking your earlobes before slipping two fingers inside you.

The sudden intrusion made you moan out loud, arching your back as waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

“Fuck,” you breathed into his ear, your voice trembling with need. You began to grind your hips, matching the rhythm of his fingers. Each thrust of his hand sent shivers down your spine, making you crave more.

“Fuck me now, please. I want your cock inside me. Fuck me hard.”

He smirked against your neck, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster, curling just right to hit that perfect spot inside you.

“You want it that badly, huh?” he teased, his voice a low, seductive growl.

You could only nod frantically, your body desperate for more. “Yes, Sunghoon. Please,” you begged, your hips bucking against his hand. “I need you. Make me yours.”

His eyes darkened with lust as he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and yearning. He quickly undid his pants, freeing his hard length. You glanced down, your eyes widening at the sight of him.

Without another word, he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you a bit by rubbing his tip against your wet folds. The sensation made you whimper, your hands clutching his broad shoulders.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he demanded, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I want you so fucking,” you gasped, your voice almost a plea. “I want you to fuck me hard, fuck me until I go dumb.”

With a groan, he thrust into you inch by inch, slowly filling you completely. The fullness made you cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his skin.

Without letting you savor the moment of his cock deep inside you, he started to move in a rough, fast pace, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body, making you roll your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your moans and his grunts blending with the pounding music in the background.

“God, you feel so good,” he panted, his lips crashing onto yours in a heated kiss. “So tight, so perfectly made for my cock.”

You could only moan in response, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You matched his rhythm, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with equal fervor. The pressure built up inside you, threatening to explode.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna—” you managed to gasp out, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “Cum all over my cock.”

With one more thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls clenched around him in intense pleasure, making him moan.

Sunghoon continued thrusting into you, riding out his own high. Still sensitive from your release, the overwhelming pleasure made you moan on the top of your lungs and cling to him tightly.

"I'm cumming, baby," he groaned. With one final, powerful thrust, he poured his hot release into your tight, convulsing heat, filling you completely.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and spent. After a moment, he lifted his head, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk.

“You were amazing,” He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"That was... incredible," you say, your voice still shaky with emotion.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, pulling you close again. "It really was. We should do this more often, and maybe you might consider going on a date with me.”

You smile, feeling a new connection with him. "A date? With that Park Sunghoon? I’d like that."

As you walked back to busy area of the club, hand in hand, you were filled with excitement and anticipation for what comes next. The night has just begun, and you can't wait to see where this new connection with Sunghoon will lead.

[sunny44]

She’s mine

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!reader

Warnings: just a sexy blurb.

Summary: Where Y/n makes a plan to get Max to finally admit that he likes her.

The night was young, and the vibrant atmosphere of the club pulsed with electrifying energy. I walked across the dance floor, my scandalous red dress capturing the attention of everyone around me. I knew I was being excessive, but sometimes, being subtle simply wasn't an option.

My eyes met Charles's across the dance floor, and a mischievous smile played on his lips as I approached him. I knew Charles was Max's friend, and we had exchanged messages earlier for me to explain my plan to make Max act once and for all.

"Charles.” I said, my sweet voice laden with a suggestive tone. "Having fun?"

Charles winked, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly what I as up to, and he was more than willing to help.

"Loads, but eager to see Max's reaction to your plan.” Y/n laughed, a melodious sound that echoed over the thumping music.

"Thanks for helping me, by the way. Your friend is a slowpoke."

"Yeah, I thought he would have made a move by now with the way you two act."

"Me too." He laughed, and I noticed Max finding me in the middle of the crowd, his smile evident as soon as he saw who was with me. So, I leaned close to Charles's ear and spoke. “Max is not liking what he's seeing right now. Do you think we should dance and make him even more jealous?"

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

And so, the two of us began to dance, moving to the rhythm of the music as my plan unfolded. I could feel Max's eyes on me, and it was exactly what I wanted.

I was determined to make him finally take action.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dance floor, Max watched with jealous eyes ablaze. He knew I was flirting with Charles, and he couldn't contain the whirlwind of emotions consuming him.

He navigated through the crowd to the DJ booth, where Martin commanded the beats.

"Martin, turn off the music.” he ordered, his voice heavy with urgency.

"What? Why?"

"Just turn off the music for a minute, please.” he said, somewhat irritated.

Martin raised an eyebrow but nodded, understanding that something important was happening.

With the music dimmed, all eyes turned to Max as he pointed to Y/n, who was now illuminated by the spotlight, her red dress shining like a blazing flame in the club's darkness.

"Are you all seeing that girl?" Max's voice echoed through the club, and besides the light, he also pointed his finger at me. "Talk to her, look at her, or breathe near her, and you'll have a problem with me. She's mine."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as Max's eyes locked onto me, a wild intensity that made me tremble slightly.

But then I saw Charles's mischievous smile, and I knew it had all been worth it.

My heart raced as I saw Max coming towards me, maneuvering through the people who had started dancing again when Martin had turned the music back on.

"Max..."

He took my hands, pulling me close to him, and kissed me, and it was one of those breath-taking kisses.

"I know I've been an idiot all this time, procrastinating instead of asking you to be my girlfriend, but I can't deny anymore what I feel for you."

"Finally.” I say, and he looks at me surprised. "You really are an idiot, I had to plan with Charles to make you jealous so that you finally admitted out loud that you want me as your girlfriend."

"You two planned this?"

"Obviously, don't get me wrong, Charles is hot but not really my type."

"And what's your type?"

"Dutch, world champion, and completely clueless when a hot girl is after him." He laughs and pulls me closer.

"There are plenty of hot girls after me."

"Yeah, but I'm the only one who will get something else out of you." I whispered back and saw the hairs on his neck stand up.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"Definitely."

Bonus scene!

Maxverstappen instagram stories

“She’s definitely mine”

[idontgetanysleep]

SEV! ANOTHER GOD TIER PIECE!

so beautiful! the plants on the balcony had me mushy because he so so deserves to have the steadiness of a home 😭😭

Sev! Congratulations! You are killing it 💙

For the prompt, can I request Mayday, green, early morning, and either SFW or NSFW (dealer's choice)? Thank you for doing this, and for being such an amazing, fun, creative, and inspiring part of this community! You deserve all the best things!

Ahhhh, DJ!!! Thank you for being absolutely fucking wonderful on all levels🥹. I am honored and terrified you trusted me with your beloved Mayday, and I hope you enjoy this humble offering of 7 sentences from my heart 💙💙

warnings: unprotected piv sex (protect yourself irl pls), creampies, Minors DNI, nsfw or any other place you may happen to be when the notification for this comes through 😌

This is your favorite time of day when Mayday is home, as there’s enough light to see him, but not wake him, and you can imagine for a few glorious minutes that every day will be like this, that your lives are your own with no war, no pit in your stomach when your comm rings, nothing to take him from you except for time, and you could live with that.

It’s Mayday’s favorite time of day too, and he keeps his eyes closed and his breathing even to allow you to look as long as you like, knowing that, after a few moments, your hands will go wandering to trace his lips with your fingertips, to brush across his cheekbones, and down his nose, but you can never go too long before you slide closer, tossing one leg over him to settle on top of him, letting your covered sex rest over his cock, creating the perfect wake up call, as you look down at him like a queen surveying her kingdom.

His hands, calloused and warm, slide up your thighs to your hips, encouraging you to grind slowly against him, eliciting sighs and soft noises of anticipation, which he always builds up like an architect, whose favorite creation is your pleasure, and it requires monuments in its honor daily, and Mayday is nothing if not diligent in laying the foundation in the form his touch along your hips, over your stomach, to your breasts, that he cups with reverent hands, thumbs brushing over stiff peaks, causing your back to arch delicately.

Then comes the framework, as he removes the shirt of his you fell asleep in, and runs his hands over the newly exposed skin, always so soft beneath his hands, against his lips, leaving him craving more even when he has days more to indulge in you, but that’s what he loves about you, and he cherishes the ache in his chest in your absence, as it reminds him what awaits him, but it’s no time for such thoughts when he has work to do to satisfy you.

He lifts your hips to give you room to guide his cock to your entrance, laughing softly when you don’t even bother to remove your panties, but rather just tug them to the side before you sink down onto his length, your breath hitching at the stretch of him, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, as he fills you completely once your ass has met his hips again.

It’s time for his favorite part, when the two of you move together, building up to that first blissful release before the dew has even settled on the tiny little plants accumulated on your balcony, before the birds have whistled their first notes, for Mayday likes the song he pulls from your body to be the first one he hears in the morning, and as your hips roll, and his fingers roam, he sits up, eager to press kisses to your heated skin, as his arms wrap around your body and pull you close, so you can feel his heartbeat against your skin.

You don’t hold back, seeing no need to be quiet about your enjoyment of your lover, and you let your moans dance into his ears, causing him to tighten his grip on you, encouraging you to move against him harder, even as he guides one of hands between your bodies to rub practiced circles over the little bundle of nerves that makes your walls flutter around him as he growls your name softly before ribbons of his cum coat your walls, while the two of you cling to one another and slowly descend from your high, and Mayday declares against your skin that it’s another perfect morning.

taglist: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @wings-and-beskar @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @staycalmandhugaclone @stardusthuntress @idontgetanysleep @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @amorfista @kimiheartblade @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @moon-wrecked @moonlightwarriorqueen

[bella-goths-wife]

How yandere Vs use your ability

Platonic vox, val and velvette x assistant reader

Please let me know if you enjoy this :)

MDNI

Warnings: Valentino, SA mentions, porn mentions, reader is uncomfortable a lot, reader uses their ability to hurt people

Vox:

When vox first met you in that disgusting alley way, he assumed that he’d get a few good uses of your ability for a few months and then either work you to death or kick you to the curb

But when he took a closer look at your ability, he realised how powerful he could make you

He looked at you and saw pure potential of the future, someone he could mold to his image and rise to his level

Or well, just below him

He saw how effectively you could manipulate and summon sound at your command, he saw the easy way you could charm someone just by giving them a soothing song in their ear

Or how you could steal someone’s words and make a completely new sentence with them, like a DJ remix’s songs but with actual words instead of music

You were like a perfected piece of AI, someone who could make something new from something old

He claims his favourite way to use your ability is when he combines his hypnosis with your ability to create new music, he’d have you make him jingles for voxtech and combined his hypnosis within them to make the most profit

But this is a lie, he enjoys his private uses of your ability much more

He likes watching you use your ability to hurt other people, because he can see the true potential in you in moments like that

He sees how he could make you like him, bloodthirsty and ambitious

He wants to make you into something similar to a successor, an heir of sorts even if he’d never allow himself to die

But he believes you must earn that title, so he will command cruelty out of you no matter how hesitant you are

He’s seen how you can be a soft touch and while he appreciates some gentleness in his afterlife, he finds himself wanting to make it so your cruel to everyone but him and the Vs

He sees softness as weakness, and he wants to have that weakness preserved for him

He would never admit his intentions to anyone, it’s best they think your just a lowly assistant who is just another soul chained to vox’s cruel hand

For your safety of course, or that’s the reason he’s deluded himself into believing

But he can’t hide his pride in certain moments, when he commands you to make a sinners ears bleed by using high frequencies of sound on them

And when your forced to comply, he can’t help the fondness that seeps into his smile as he watches you and your wincing face

Almost like a proud father watching his daughter…

Velvette:

When velvette first met you, all she saw was some scrappy sewer rat that vox hired for a few months to make up for the fact that exterminations had wiped out a few voxtech employees

So she assumed that she’d just make do with your presence until your eventually killed or fired

So she didn’t really want to spend time getting to know you, what was the point of that?

That was until she saw you using your ability, now that was a sight for sore eyes

She knew that people in the V tower were rude to you, called you names or mocked you

She didn’t particularly care so she just let it continue, even when it happened around her

But someone had said something velvette couldn’t hear, but she could definitely see it struck a very deep nerve in you

They collapsed and held their ears while screeching in pain, but you just held a calm look as you stared at them

That definitely intrigued her, and that rarely happens in hell nowadays

So she cornered you one night as you were doing the Vs paperwork and interrogated you about what else you could do

And when she heard you could manipulate sounds around you, even words, she couldn’t stop the devilish grin that spread across her face

She’d show you countless videos of people who posed a threat to her speaking, and then she’d command you to manipulate the words with your ability to make them say extremely damaging or embarrassing things

People can still get cancelled in hell y’know, just takes a lot more effort

She’d record you doing this and upload the audio online and watch as the business that was a threat to her crumble

You became an asset to velvette that day, and that’s as close as friends you could get with velvette

Her obsession grew from there, she used to look at you like a temporary nuisance

Now she looks at you like a prized pet who she can command to bark when she’s bored

She’ll even teach you a few tricks if you behave

Valentino:

At first Valentino saw in you what he sees in most sinners, a pretty face and good body

He presented himself around you like he would any other sinner, and vox allowed this to happen until he felt himself growing attached

So vox forbid Valentino from his usual behaviours around you, claimed you were too young for it despite being 18

But you were thankful enough to be spared from the lavish porn sets that Valentino was usually found in

So originally Valentino just used you as an assistant and then he realised how you could use your ability to help him

You could manipulate sounds, and he knew he could use you to cut out hours of editing time for his videos

You see, a pornstar may be a great actor but after five shoots in a row they aren’t gonna sound as enthusiastic at the end as they do at the start

So Valentino would force you to listen to an actors moans from the first few shoots of the day and then would command you to use your ability to make the moans sound more enthusiastic

You were extremely uncomfortable at all times and even vox couldn’t make Valentino stop, so eventually you had to get used to the sound and drown it out as best you could while using your ability

But this wasn’t his favourite way to use your ability, no that came a few months into your employment with voxtech

Valentino was prone to creating a dramatic, rage filled fit when things didn’t go his way

Usually only vox could calm him down from these fits, until you came along

He was raging in his studio one evening when everyone had left because he felt neglected by vox and angel dust wasn’t answering his calls

He thought he was alone as he destroyed his studio, he obviously failed to see little you in the corner as you were filling in paperwork

He continued to rage until he heard something ringing in his ears

It was a gentle humming, similar to one a mother would hum to her child in an attempt to get them to sleep

But the humming was mixed with a rhythmic, heart beat like sound behind it

Valentino felt himself sink into the sound as he sat on the ground for a few moments

He followed this siren song until his eyes met yours

He demanded an explanation, and you simply explained that you used your ability to manipulate your humming and heartbeat to create a calming effect on him

After that night Valentino would call for you every time he felt himself experiencing an emotion he wanted to get rid of quickly

You became more in his eyes after that, you became more valued and thus were treated better

He found himself craving your presence more and more, like how a child craves his favourite toy

He’s never shown affection or favouritism towards a sinner who he wasn’t sexually involved with, but he never felt that urge with you

You were more of a possession than someone he’d want to get with, he just couldn’t get himself to be attracted to you in that way

You were a calming toy, his little music box

You better hope you don’t refuse to play, Valentino doesn’t throw away his toys when they stop working

He just does what he can to ‘fix’ them no matter the pain caused

So don’t let yourself become rusty, or your face the consequences from all three of the Vs

What did you guys think

Also @buttercupfangirl asked for a tag so here you go :)

[bichiisannii]

SFW: 🐰Bunny Suit Commander👯‍♀️👯‍♂️

I remember the time during the quarantine era when the TDS Art Community would draw THE COMMANDER in a bunny suit 😭

I also remember when I actually participated in that art trend, so I thought it would be fun to draw him in it again ���

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Hi DJ! If you’re still doing the ficlet requests, can I get 24 (cuddles of reassurance) with Wolffe? Maybe fem!reader is having a hard time with sex and feels embarrassed/overwhelmed? (If that’s too explicit/uncomy feel free to ignore :))

Just a Little Bit More

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, Alli! I’ve actually been wanting to write a fic like this for a while. I feel like so much of the smut we see in fanfiction AND in published fiction/media in general is so idealized that even when it has elements of realism, it can present a distorted idea of what sex and intimacy can really be like. I’m certainly guilty of writing somewhat idealized smut, though I do try to maintain at least some semblance of realism (unless Sev is involved; all bets are off with that man). While there’s nothing wrong with having that fantasy, I think it’s healthy and important to also show the reality that it isn’t always easy or flawless, even with a caring, experienced partner who takes our pleasure seriously and does everything “right.”

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader (Fem; has hair)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.3K of straight smut with some cuddles

Warnings and tags: cuddles; hurt comfort; language; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; nipple play; light/playful spanking; body worship; sex toys; fingering; exhibitionism; voyeurism; creampie; difficulty with orgasm. AKA, the return of SMUTKEA.

Summary: Wolffe is the best you’ve ever had. That doesn’t mean it’s always perfect.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Fruit de La Créativité by Grès (raspberry & leather)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Wolffe gazed up into your eyes as you rolled your hips slowly, searching for the perfect angle. You knew you could find it: you’d done it before, countless times. His strong, warm hands glided up your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer, thrusting deeper, guiding you closer and closer to your pleasure. You could feel it building inside you, the tension gathering slowly.

Too slowly.

He smoothed one hand up your side, grazing along your rib cage until he cupped your breast, circling your nipple with his thumb. He knew exactly how much pressure you liked, and the way he touched you was perfect.

God, he’s so hot. Just focus on how hot he is.

Sweat glistened on your skin. The room hadn’t been this hot when he’d pulled you into bed, but after an hour and a half of vigorous activity, you were both slick with perspiration, saliva, arousal, and lube. He’d mapped your body with kisses, gliding his lips and tongue across your skin as he devoured you, bringing you right to the edge until you begged him to fuck you. 

You’d wrapped your legs around his waist as he eased into you, a tormented groan rumbling from his lips as he felt your heat envelope him. Gods, he felt amazing, and when he started to move, you knew it would only be a matter of minutes before you came. 

It took longer than you expected, and after a while, you realized something needed to change. 

“Take me from behind,” you’d murmured, knowing how much he loved the way your ass pressed into his hips in that position.

“God, yes,” he’d replied, pulling out and rolling you over with enthusiasm.

You loved the way he handled you in bed. He was so fucking strong. He could toss you around so easily—it was hot as hell, but the best thing about it was the care he took to make sure you were comfortable and he didn’t accidentally hurt you. He lifted your hips up and positioned you exactly the way he wanted you. You heard a small click as he closed the bottle of lube, and then you felt his slickened fingers glide over your cunt as he ensured you were ready to take him from the new angle.

“Maker, that ass is gorgeous,” he said, squeezing your cheeks before giving you a playful smack. 

Your mischievous giggle turned into a breathless moan as he sank into you, reaching deeper, stretching you wider, as his hand slid down your body to tease your clit. You loved the way he touched you, the way he caged you in with his body, making you feel incredibly safe and protected. And of course, you loved his cock. He knew exactly how to use it to ensure he gave you as much pleasure as he took—or more.

And still, your orgasm remained tantalizingly just out of reach. He shifted, and for a moment, his body rested heavily on you before he resumed his rhythm.

He’s getting tired. Fuck. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. I need to give him a break.

“Want me to be on top?” you offered, hoping that yet another angle would be the one that finally pushed you past whatever mental block was keeping you from your release.

He paused, his hands resting on your hips. “Is that what you want?”

“Sure,” you replied. “If you do?”

He trailed his fingers down your spine before slowly withdrawing from your body. You turned to watch as he rolled onto his back and kicked the blankets off the bed. He reached for you with that sexy smirk that you loved so much, and you knew without question that he still wanted you.

He’s such a good man. Gods, he deserves the world.

“Hop on, darlin’,” he invited.

You crawled toward him with a smile, pausing a moment to kneel between his thighs. You traced your fingertips up his legs and over his balls, then ghosted a line up the underside of his cock. You glanced up to see his eyes fixed on you with an intense expression. Holding his gaze, you dropped lower and flicked your tongue over his tip, then slid his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him. You could taste yourself on his skin—salty, tangy, unspeakably erotic. His hips flexed beneath you, and you heard his breath grow ragged.

He caressed your head gently, stroking his hand over your hair and jaw before coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he said quietly. “Come up here.”

You gave him one last defiant, flirtatious little suck before you released him, then you began to crawl up to him, kissing a trail up his abdomen and chest. You straddled his hips, kissing and licking your way up his throat, and as you reached his lips, you whispered, “You taste like pussy.”

“Then I must be delicious,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

His tongue slid into your mouth as his cock thrust into your cunt, and for a moment you were overwhelmed with the sensations of him filling you. A fresh wave of arousal had flooded you as you’d pleasured him with your mouth, and he slipped into you easily, rocking into you with his powerful thighs. You braced your fists against the mattress on either side of his head, pressing down to meet his thrusts as you rode him hard and fast, chasing your pleasure with a desperation that started to border on frantic as release continued to elude you.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” he whispered. “And then I’m gonna fill you up. You feel so goddamn good. Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”

I’m trying, damn it!

“You feel incredible,” you replied breathlessly, and it was true, so why was this so kriffing difficult?

Your hips were starting to get sore from how long you’d been at it, so you shifted positions, bringing your knees higher and setting a slower pace to try to buy yourself enough time that you’d have the energy to make it to the finish line. Wolffe adjusted instantly, not even needing a verbal cue to understand the message your body sent. You found the angle that pressed his cock against the perfect place inside you, and you focused on trying to get as much stimulation there as you possibly could, cutting out all extraneous movement.

The longer it took, the more anxious and desperate you became. You tried to shut down the voice in your head that whispered, “He’s getting bored,” because you knew it was a lie. All you had to do was look into his beautiful, mismatched eyes to see how much he wanted you. And you were so close. So fucking close, if you could just get out of your own head long enough to let go.

You traced your fingertips across his cheekbone and along his jaw, grazing your thumb across his lips. You pressed gently, parting his lips to brush your thumb against his tongue, and then you leaned down and kissed him deeply, trying to lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue against your own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as you broke from the kiss and returned your hand to brace against the mattress. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Please stop talking. You couldn’t say it out loud; what kind of an asshole says something like that in response to a compliment?

“You’re so sexy,” you whispered instead. “You’re amazing at this.”

It was true; he was amazing. Unquestionably the best you’d ever had. In the time you’d been together, he’d learned your body completely, identifying every spot that made you shiver, testing different approaches until he knew exactly how and where you liked to be touched, kissed, caressed. He knew where to use his teeth, and where to use his breath; he knew when you wanted him to be tender, and when you craved roughness. 

He knew you.

He knew you better than anyone ever had, and that made your current predicament even more maddening. Because sometimes it was easy. Sometimes you came so fast that your orgasm surprised both of you. But most of the time, it took more work. A lot more. And sometimes, like this one, you would get so close to the edge that you were only seconds away, only to feel the wave of pleasure ebb and be replaced with frustration and exhaustion.

Please, please, please. Just a little bit more.

Your wrists ached. Your knuckles were raw from grinding them into the sheets. You shifted your weight and lifted one hand off the mattress, stretching your fingers and trying to get the blood flowing to them. He glanced at your hand, then back up into your eyes.

“What can I do?” he asked softly.

“Just… keep going,” you said desperately. “I’m so close—I’m so fucking close, and I just can’t—I can’t—”

Abrupt tears stung your eyes, and you buried your face against his neck to hide them, kissing his chest to try to distract him from your distress.

He wrapped his arms around your body, still rocking into you at the pace you’d set. “Do you want to take a break?”

“No, I want you to come,” you snapped, disappointment sharpening your tone more than you intended.

He stilled immediately. You felt his hand slide up your back to stroke your hair softly.

“Hey,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Look at me.”

You shook your head and burrowed your face obstinately into the nook where his neck met his shoulder.

“Talk to me, little one,” he urged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The dam cracked and then burst. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” you sobbed. “And I can tell you’re getting tired, and I just want it to be good for you, and every time I think I’m getting there, I lose it!”

Mortification swept through you that you were making a scene during such an intimate moment, and you tried to stifle your sobs, but it was too late. You felt him go soft inside you, and then he slipped from your body.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rolled the both of you onto your sides, pulling you close against his body. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Holding you tightly with one arm, he began to run his hand lightly over your back, comforting you with his touch as he kissed your forehead.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated. “You just got tired. It’s all right, love. It happens.”

“It’s so frustrating,” you confessed. “So many times, I thought I was there, and then something would distract me, and it was just gone.”

“Was it something I did?” he asked.

“No, of course not. It was just… I don’t know. A noise? Or a weird thought that popped into my head at a bad time?” You paused, feeling a little guilty as you remembered that, in fact, you had gotten annoyed at an ill-timed remark from him. “And then the longer it took, the more it stressed me out about how long it was taking, until I was stressing so much about it that that’s all I could think about.”

He moved his hand to your shoulder and began to glide it up and down your arm in long, languid strokes. “Why were you worried about taking too long?”

You paused, unaccountably hesitant to admit the truth. He waited patiently, still caressing your arm, until at last you replied, “I was worried you were getting tired. Or bored. Or—I don’t know…”

His hand stilled in its progress, then slid around your back as he pulled you even closer to him. “I would never get bored with you.”

“But—”

“I love you,” he cut you off firmly. “I love being with you. I love fuckin’ you. You’re gorgeous, and sexy, and kriffin’ amazing in the sack. Do you have any idea how lucky I am? Most men only dream of finding a girl like you, but I got you for real. How the hell would I ever be stupid enough to get bored with someone as goddamn perfect as you?”

You didn’t know what to say. You lay in his arms, clinging tightly to him as the tears finally stopped trickling from your eyes. You shuddered quietly.

“Yeah?” you asked in a tiny whisper.

He rolled you onto your back and moved to lie on top of you so he could look into your eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied.

You swallowed. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I know,” he said with a charming smirk.

He pressed his lips to your sternum as his hand slid lazily up your body to play with your breast. The weight of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress as you cradled his chest between your thighs. You took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, releasing the guilt and stress and self-recrimination you’d built up in your body.

He kissed you again, and again, then he began to work his way across your chest until he drew your nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue over your skin as he sucked gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You felt a spark of renewed arousal, but with it came a surge of anxiety that rose insistently in your mind.

“Wolffe,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can. I really am exhausted.”

He looked up at you as he continued to tease your breast. At last, he released your nipple from his lips, giving you a devilish smile.

“What if we tried something else?”

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into an answering smile when he looked at you like that. “What did you have in mind?”

He pushed himself up off of you and leaned over to rummage through your nightstand until he retrieved a vibrator—the one you’d once jokingly called “Old Faithful” for its uncanny ability to get you off like clockwork.

“I want you to fuck yourself with this,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”

Your breath stuttered to a halt, your eyes widening and your heart beginning to pound at the idea. Your gaze flicked from the toy to his eyes and back again.

“Wh—what about you?” you stammered.

“Don’t you worry about me,” he replied. He switched on the vibrator and traced it down your abdomen, making you twitch as its buzz tickled your skin. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking the toy from him. “How do you want me?”

“Whatever way works best for you.”

You thought about trying to pose for him, to put on a show, but you knew instinctively that wasn’t what he was after. If he’d wanted to watch a counterfeit, staged orgasm, he would have just found a holoporn. No. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to see your genuine pleasure.

“All right,” you whispered.

You took the toy from him, and he moved off of your body to lie next to you, observing you closely. You adjusted the settings to your preferred speed and pattern, then took a deep breath and began.

The instant you touched the vibrator to your clit, your entire body tensed, and you gasped quietly. You glanced at Wolffe and found his gaze riveted to your pussy, his one good pupil dilated so wide you could barely see the amber ring of his iris around its inky depths. You felt a little self-conscious until you saw the way his lips parted slightly as his breath became heavy. 

You pushed yourself back into the pillow and closed your eyes as you adjusted the angle of the toy, pressing it exactly as you needed it. With your free hand, you began to play with your breast, caressing and squeezing and rolling your nipple between your fingertips. You felt the warmth of his hand as it settled onto your leg and then slid up your thigh. Your opposite leg curled up to brace your foot against the bed, opening your stance wider as you moved the vibrator exactly the way you needed it.

“Fuck,” he rasped hoarsely, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. His fingers grazed lightly over your pussy, but quickly withdrew.

“You can touch me,” you gasped.

He didn’t move immediately, and you continued to work yourself closer and closer to your orgasm, feeling the tension gather in your body and begin to tighten in on your center. Then his fingertips brushed over your cunt again, and you felt his lips and tongue descend on your hip. He didn’t try to take control, just touched you softly, kissing and licking and watching as you played with yourself. 

You adjusted your position again, bringing your leg against his body, and you felt his slick, rigid cock press hard against you. You whimpered, so turned on you couldn’t even form words, and in response, he ground his erection against you. He kissed across your pelvis until he reached your belly, pressing his face into you.

“I’m so close,” you panted.

“Kriff, me too,” he growled.

His fingertip grazed into you, and your body jerked as you gasped sharply. He froze, and without thinking, you moved your hand away from your breast to grab his wrist and push him deeper. With an urgent grunt, he began to move his finger, stroking exactly where he knew you needed him.

Abruptly, your hips arched off the bed, and you let out an inhuman wail. If your brain had been functioning, you might have also heard Wolffe’s rough groan, but at the moment, you were aware of nothing but blinding, shattering pleasure as your body finally found the release it had been denied for so many hours. You jerked the vibrator away as the intensity suddenly became too much, and your body convulsed again and again until at last you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent.

Wolffe covered you with frantic kisses, crawling up your body until he reached your face. His body hovered over you as his tongue brushed between your lips and flooded your mouth with his taste. Your arms wrapped around his torso as your legs tightened around his hips, and you pulled him into you. His cock slid easily, and he thrust hard and fast, fucking you through the last tremors of your orgasm.

He came within seconds, flooding you with heat as he thrust hard, one last time, burying his cock as deep as he could inside your body. He stayed there, his entire body taut, until at last he exhaled a hard breath and relaxed onto you. His lips broke away from yours, and he rested his forehead against the pillow next to your head.

“Fuck,” he panted, the word hot against your ear. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You stroked your hands up and down his back, digging your nails lightly into his skin. He groaned and slumped heavily against your body. You loved the weight of him on top of you, but before long, you began to wheeze quietly as you struggled to draw breath. He heard the shift and immediately rolled off of you, pulling you against himself as he came to rest on the bed.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his chest.

He laughed quietly. “Thank you. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

“Worth the wait?” you asked.

“Worth everything,” he murmured, drawing you even closer. “Everything, and more. You always have been.”

 ---

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[dystopicjumpsuit]

Pictures or It Didn't Happen

Commander Thorn x reader featuring Fives, Kix, Jesse, Vaugh, Hawk, Hardcase, and Original Clone Troopers Zero, Cayde, and Cupid

Summary: A game of Truth or Dare results in Fives regretting what he thought would be a funny dare.

Word Count: ~6.0k

Warnings: smut 18+, this is really just filth. established (kind of secret) relationship, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), brief spanking, creampie. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: I finally finished this smut that I've been promising for way too long lmao I hope it was worth the wait 💀. I also want to thank you @a-single-tulip for letting me borrow her OC, Cupid ❤️

Sometimes you wondered why you subjected yourself to shit like this, especially when the 501st had just come off a successful campaign. 

The night had started out peaceful, but it never stayed that way when alcohol was involved. That’s how you found yourself crowded into one of 79’s booths with Fives, Jesse, Kix, Vaughn, and Hawk, playing a ridiculous yet intense game of Truth or Dare. Vaughn was the most recent target, spilling his most embarrassing encounter with a natborn, which happened to be when he lost his virginity. Jesse and Kix were still trying to breathe through crippling laughter five minutes later. 

“It’s not that funny,” Vaughn huffed, hiding behind his drink. You lightly patted his arm with a smile but he must’ve seen your barely contained amusement because he shot you a narrow-eyed glare. 

“Sorry,” you giggled, nudging Vaughn with your shoulder. It took a few more minutes before the laughter finally tapered off and Hawk offered to get the next round. You glanced across the table at where Fives was sitting, noting the pinched expression on his face. “What’s your problem?” 

“Hm?” Fives hummed, shifting his eyes from whatever he was staring at over your shoulder. “Oh, nothing.”

“Wanna try that again?” Fives rolled his eyes but jerked his chin over your head, prompting you to twist around, noting the few shock troopers standing near the bar. 

“The Guard’s here to ruin everyone’s fun,” Fives grumbled, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Oh, come on, they aren’t that bad,” you argued lightly, watching the three troopers talking to the bartender. None of them had removed their helmets but you picked up on a few idiosyncrasies the longer you watched the trio. 

“They’re stuck up,” Jesse cut in, elbowing Kix when his brother tried to steal the last of his drink. “Think they’re better than us when they just hang around on triple zero.”

“You’re being harsh,” you chided, turning back to the table of troopers. You had met and subsequently formed an easy friendship with Torrent Company when they accompanied you to Geonosis after the parasitic worm incident. Technically, you didn’t work for the GAR but the microbiology lab you did work for had negotiated a contract that allowed you to study the highly classified specimens troops came in contact with. It was pure luck that the 501st was one of the battalions tasked with escorting you and it had all been downhill from there. 

You adored the boys in blue but seeing that you spent a good portion of your time on Coruscant, you had a soft spot for the Corries too. 

“Didn’t realize our little lab rat liked ‘em so much,” Fives noted, arching a brow. You caught the hint of a smirk on his lips and you had a sinking feeling you weren’t going to like whatever mischievous thoughts were swirling around in his head.

“I do see them the most,” you responded, faintly rolling your eyes. Hawk chose that moment to slide back into the booth beside you, distributing drinks around the table and blessedly shifting the conversation away from the Guard. 

“Alright, Mouse, you’re up,” Vaughn cut in, swatting at Fives who was trying to steal his shot. “Truth or Dare.” You had kept it mostly tame, sticking to truth questions and the boys had let it slide but you knew that it wouldn’t last much longer and decided to just give in. 

“I guess it’s time for a dare,” you sighed, mindlessly swirling your fresh drink. The entire table lit up, the brothers leaning together to whisper ideas except for one. Fives was still staring you down across the table, his smile taking on a sharp edge that made you tense. Thankfully, you hadn’t tried to take a drink because the next time his mouth opened, you nearly choked on your own spit.

“I dare you to fuck Thorn.” The entire table went eerily silent, Kix, Jesse, Hawk, and Vaughn slowly sitting back in their seats as they gaped at their brother. You were too stunned to speak, blinking rapidly at the smug ARC trooper. “What? You seem to like them so much so why not? And don’t forget, pictures or it didn’t happen.”

“Dude,” Jesse whispered, glancing between you and Fives. You almost wanted to be irritated by it, knowing Fives was just being an ass for the sake of stirring shit but your devious side won out this time. 

“Fine,” you chirped, cutting off whatever Jesse was going to say next. Five pairs of eyes locked onto your face with varying degrees of surprise.

“Woah, Mouse, he’s not serious,” Kix rushed out, trying to backpedal for his brother.

“And why not? It’s not like he said Fox,” you countered, arching a brow. You could imagine the look on Fox’s face if that were the case and you barely contained the urge to start cackling. The table of troopers just stared at you, even Fives who you assumed had expected you to back down. “Hang tight, let’s see if the boys know where he is.” 

“Wait!” Hawk shouted, trying to grab you when you slid under the table. Ignoring the disgusting floor you hurried out of reach, throwing a smile over your shoulder as you approached the trio of Corries still lingering by the bar. One helmet turned slightly, catching your approach, and you were almost positive he was smiling based on the way he straightened.

“Hey, Zero,” you laughed, coming to a stop at his side.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, glancing at his brothers who had turned at the sound of your voice.

“The 501st is planet-side so they invited me out for a drink,” you explained, glancing at the table of troopers blatantly staring. Cayde and Cupid shared a subtle look before Cayde sighed under his breath, returning to his conversation with the bartender. 

“What can we do for ya, Mouse?” Cupid asked, leaning an arm against the bar and you could picture the easy smile on his face.

“Where’s your commander?” Zero stiffened at the mention of their CO, quickly clearing his throat to cover his momentary slip.

“Everything okay?” Zero whispered, leaning down so you could hear him better. 

“I’m fine,” you laughed, refraining from patting his arm and giving yourself away. “Fives wanted to be cute and stir shit so I figured I’d play along.”

“Involving Fox?” Cupid wondered, tilting his head.

“No, Thorn,” you corrected, darting your eyes toward Torrent’s table. 

“You’re in luck,” Cayde spoke up, turning to face you. “Commander Thorn’s on patrol with us.” Cayde jerked his chin at something over your head and you twisted around just as 79’s doors slid closed, a familiar red-winged helmet scanning the immediate area. You bit back on a goofy grin when Thorn worked his way through the crowd with the ease of a commanding officer. Seeing him in his element, the strong, proud commander made your blood feel too hot, forcing you to stifle the urge to squeeze your thighs together. 

“Commander,” the three shinies synchronously greeted.

“Gentlemen,” Thorn responded before his helmet turned enough to catch sight of you. “Ma’am.”

“Nice to see you again, Commander,” you murmured, the hint of a smile playing on your lips. Thorn continued to study you for a moment before shifting his attention back to the three troopers standing around you. 

“Head out, boys, we’ll debrief outside before shift’s over,” Thorn huffed, jerking his head toward the door. The three troopers replied with another synchronous “yes sir”, pausing long enough to wave at you before making their way into Coruscant’s cool night. You glanced back up at Thorn, his words sinking in after a few seconds.

“I forgot you’re almost finished for the night,” you commented, smiling when his head tilted slightly.

“Lost track of time, huh?” he chuckled, shifting his weight so he was a hair closer to you. “How’re drinks with the bane of Rex’s existence going?” 

“Interesting,” you laughed, glancing at said trooper from the corner of your eye. All five of them were zeroed in on your conversation, looking more stunned than before and you nearly laughed. You looked up at Thorn again, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you leaned closer, hooking a finger under his belt to keep him from backing away. His hands shot up, hovering in the air near your shoulders and you could only imagine the stunned look on his face. 

“What - what are you doing?” he whispered, his visor never leaving your face. The dare wasn’t necessarily a secret but you wanted to have a little fun before giving in and telling him, so you pressed yourself against his chest. The soft hitch in his breathing was only audible seeing that you were practically glued to his chest plate but it made your face feel warm nonetheless. 

“Do you have any idea how good you looked walking in here a minute ago?” you purred, tugging lightly on his belt. You were close enough to see his throat bob under the collar of his blacks, his arms dropping bit by bit until one hand hovered near your lower back. 

“Mm, why don’t you tell me?” Thorn rumbled, some of the rigidity finally leaving his posture. 

“How about I show you?” you countered, standing on your toes. Thorn didn’t move aside from the weight of his hand settling on your waist, squeezing once. His head was angled down slightly allowing you to lean forward and press a feather-light kiss to his helmet’s mockery of a mouth. A warm hand wrapped around the fingers hooked in his belt but he didn’t push them away, if anything, he pulled you closer, pressing the unforgiving curve of his codpiece into your leg. 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Thorn murmured, his grip on your waist tightening again. Although you were having fun winding him up, you figured you should let him in on the joke sooner rather than later. 

“Fives dared me to fuck you,” you stated with a small shrug. 

“I thought they didn’t know about us.” 

“They don’t,” you giggled, rolling your lips into your mouth. Thorn stared at you for a moment, completely silent before his shoulders started to shake the tiniest bit. 

“I think that’s cheating,” he teased, slowly rubbing your side. 

“Want me to try and follow through with Fives’ original idea of seducing Fox?” If it weren’t for his chest's faint rise and fall against yours, you would’ve thought he turned into stone before your eyes. Then his hand tightened again, grip harsher than the first time and it sent a thrill shooting up your spine. 

“Like you’d even try,” Thorn scoffed, yet his hold on you spoke to a glimmer of jealousy at the thought.

“I wouldn’t,” you hummed, absently playing with the edge of his kama. “So are you in or not?”

“The hell kind of question is that?” he huffed, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. 

“I do have to warn you, Fives told me there have to be pictures or it didn’t happen,” you confessed, expression softening. Thorn canted his head, studying you for a moment and you gasped as you felt his codpiece press harder into your leg. It could barely be considered a roll of his hips but it was a far more physical answer than you were expecting. 

“I think I can get on board with that,” he rumbled, his head inching closer to yours. The mere suggestion of documenting what you did behind closed doors had your pulse jumping, painfully aware of how wet you already were.

“Lead the way, handsome,” you breathed, barely containing your excitement. 

“I need to debrief the rest of the boys first, muffin,” Thorn laughed, finally peeling himself away from you, although he continued to hold on to the fingers that had been toying with his belt. “Once that’s done, you can have your way with me.”

“I supposed I can wait that long,” you sighed dramatically, not bothering to hide the almost giddy smile on your face. 

“Come on, troublemaker,” he chuckled, tugging you toward the door. A second before the door slid open you twisted around, eyes immediately finding the table of troopers who still looked just as dumbstruck as they did when you left. You lifted your free hand, wiggling your fingers in a smug little wave before Thorn pulled you out of sight. 

Thorn begrudgingly released your hand once you were outside, approaching the rest of his squad while you stood off to the side. Thorn nodded along to whatever Cupid was saying, watching the trooper absently tapping the spot over his heart and you couldn’t help but smile. However, the smile melted off your face when he tilted his head back as far as he could, arms extended in front of himself, clearly trying to stretch his shoulders, but that didn’t stop your eyes from dropping to the sliver of skin peeking out from under his helmet. 

That pose gave you a wicked idea. 

The shift from a composed, well-behaved boyfriend to whatever insatiable beast Thorn had become had your knees buckling. The second your apartment door shut, he was on you, helmet haphazardly tossed aside in favor of curling a hand around your throat and yanking you into a clumsy kiss. Your fingers instinctively curled around the edge of his chest plate, steadying yourself as he walked you down the hall to your bedroom. 

Your knees hit the edge of your mattress as Thorn’s tongue explored your mouth as if he hadn’t done it a million times before. The press of hard plastoid against your leg had you breaking the kiss, letting his lips trail across your cheek and down the side of your neck. Your fingers curled around the rounded edge of his shoulder bell, tugging lightly, making Thorn chuckle against your skin.

“Go on, you know how,” he urged playfully, his hand moving around to the back of your neck. You almost cursed him, knowing he wasn’t going to make this easy as you felt his teeth graze your thundering pulse. 

“Stop being a cheeky shit and help me,” you huffed, tossing his stupid shoulder bell aside. 

“So bossy,” Thorn teased, smirking against your throat before working his way back to your mouth. A soft sigh passed through your nose as he licked into your mouth, tasting like caf and something sweet he probably stole from Fox. 

Thorn unclipped his belt, his kama falling to the floor with a thud as you worked open the clips on his chest armor, never breaking the kiss. It was a dance you’d done more times than you could count but it somehow still made your heart race. Thorn caught his chest plate before it could hit your feet, breaking the kiss but not without nipping at your bottom lip. He tossed the piece of armor aside, bending over to work on his legs but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Thorn looked up, a few dirty blonde curls falling in his eyes as he looked up at you. 

“Let me,” you urged, guiding him to stand straight again. He angled his head down, eyes glued to your face as you knelt at his feet, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side. You expertly worked off each piece of armor, barely having to look away from his face. With each piece that fell away his eyes grew darker, making your fingers tremble faintly with the weight of his stare. For all of Thorn’s lighthearted fun and goofy grins, he could still be intense, flaying you open with a single look. 

Thorn carefully stepped out of his boots, kicking them to the side as your fingers trailed up the inside of his thigh. The muscles twitched under his skin-tight bodysuit and you had the urge to sink your teeth into the taunt muscle. His codpiece was the last bit of plastoid to hit the floor, his cock twitched when you swayed close enough for him to feel your warm breath. You looked up the length of his body, batting your lashes a bit and you watched the way his chest moved with a shuddering breath. 

You shifted forward on your knees, lips ghosting over the head of his cock and you relished in his harsh exhale. A hand shot out to steady you on instinct as you climbed to your feet again, bringing a small smile to your face when you looked up at Thorn again. 

“Always a gentleman,” you commented, resting a hand over his racing heart. He offered you a lopsided grin, that despite the situation, made your heart swell. “Come lay down.” 

“What do you have planned?” he wondered, narrowing his eyes. You turned your back on him, already working to get out of your shirt.

“Why don’t you come find out?” you called over your shoulder. There was a soft huff of laughter before you heard the bed creak from his added weight and you glanced over your shoulder. You paused, watching the way muscles shifted under tawny skin as he struggled to yank his shirt over his head, nearly toppling over when he finally pulled it off. He blinked a few times, shaking his head, making his blonde curls look fluffy. 

“What?” he mumbled when he caught you staring. Thorn lounged back against the pillows, hands folded behind his head and somehow he managed to look adorable and mouth-watering at the same time. You let out an amused huff before tossing your shirt aside and quickly wiggling out of your pants, catching the way his eyes followed the fabric to the floor before lazily trailing up your body. 

“See something you like?” 

“I guess that’s my fault if you don’t know the answer to that,” Thorn laughed, offering you a hand as you approached the edge of the bed. His jaw flexed a few times as you climbed into his lap, his lips parting around a soft groan when you pressed down onto the outline of his cock. Thorn hooked a finger under the band of your bra, pulling you down for a kiss that had you unintentionally grinding against him. 

Normally, he kissed you like he was trying to memorize the feeling, tucking it away to revisit on one of his lonely nightshifts. Instead of his usual attentiveness, Thorn seemed distracted, something weighing on his mind. You were about to break the kiss and check on him when the support from your bra vanished. Thorn made a soft triumphant noise against your lips and you broke the kiss, forcing your sluggish brain to work. Your bra straps slid off your shoulders when you sat up, a slightly dumbfounded look on your face that only made Thorn’s smile grow wider. 

“Shithead,” you huffed, doing your best to hide a smile. Thorn winked, sliding his hands around to cup your breasts. A sigh fell from your lips as his thumbs brushed over your nipples and you leaned into his hands, bracing yourself against his shoulders and grinding down against him. As quickly as his hand was there, it was gone, making you whine in the back of your throat. You were about to complain when Thorn shifted under you, propping himself up on his elbows so his mouth ghosted over the space between your breasts. 

“You sound so pretty when you get needy,” Thorn hummed, his lips brushing against the swell of your breast. You met his heavy gaze, never breaking eye contact as he peppered kisses across your right breast and your breath hitched when his tongue slipped out. The first flick of his tongue made you gasp but you couldn’t look away from his dark eyes as he traced the shape of your nipple. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, your head lulling forward as your breathing grew heavier. 

Thorn blinked slowly, watching you through dark lashes as his lips closed around the hardened peak. A broken groan slipped past your lips, your hips unconsciously shifting forward, making his cock jump beneath you. Your hand followed the curve of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair so you could gently tilt his head back. 

“No more teasing,” you whispered, your lips brushing his, “we have a dare to fulfill.” Thorn brushed his nose against yours in a sickeningly sweet gesture despite your current position and you smiled. 

“We do,” Thorn murmured, pecking your lips. “How do you want me, muffin?” 

“Just like this,” you answered, finding his lips again. Thorn’s tongue slipped into your mouth, searching for yours as he fumbled to find the waistband of his blacks. You shifted forward onto your knees, your hands bumping his as you tried to help, earning a muffled laugh from Thorn. You leaned to the side in an attempt to give him more room and nearly toppled over, breaking the kiss with a laugh. 

“Having fun?” Thorn teased, grunting as he tried to shove his pants down. 

“More than you apparently,” you giggled, cupping his face. Thorn’s smile was blinding, the expression lighting up his entire face and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Not for long,” he mumbled, letting out a triumphant sound. You looked over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of his legs kicking as he pushed his pants off to the side. His hands landed on your hips, pulling you down onto his lap and you let out a choked gasp, clenching at the feeling of his length pressing against your folds. “What was that?”

“Oh, shut up,” you huffed, rolling your hips. Thorn’s jaw flexed, the grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you forward, dragging you along the length of his cock. “I’d say why not put your mouth to good use,” you teased, reaching up to trace the shape of his lower lip with your thumb, “but I’ve been thinking about cumming on your cock since you walked into 79s.”

Thorn groaned, his thumbs hooking under the band of your panties, yanking them down with a sudden desperation. It took a little careful maneuvering but Thorn was quickly tossing the thin fabric somewhere out of sight. Your nails dug into his shoulder as his fingers traced the dip of your hips, ghosting over your clit, but he didn’t linger, parting your folds as he held your gaze. The sigh that left your lips sounded almost relieved as Thorn pushed a finger into you, his lips parting as he watched your features contort with pleasure. Your head felt fuzzy, arousal buzzing under your skin as you unconsciously started grinding against his hand. 

“There you go,” Thorn cooed, meeting the movement of your hips with ease. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth as he added another finger. “You look so good fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Would - would look even better fucking myself on your cock,” you forced out, squeezing your eyes shut when he curled his fingers. Thorn hummed, kissing the corner of your mouth but he didn’t pull away, his slightly labored breathing puffing against your cheek.

“Then do it.” You moaned at the harsh edge of his voice, the barely restrained desire lacing his words and you couldn’t move fast enough. Thorn chuckled under his breath, the sound breaking around a groan when your fingers curled around his cock. You matched the pace of his thrusts, clenching your jaw when a third finger joined the others but it still wasn’t what you wanted. It was almost torturous to lift your hips, wanting more than his fingers but hating the sudden emptiness. 

Thorn flopped down onto the bed, his hands folded behind his head as he looked up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes and a sinful smirk. You suddenly wanted to wipe that look off his face, wanting him to look just as restless as you felt. Despite the smirk lingering on his face, you noted how the muscles near his jaw shifted as you lined yourself up, the head of his cock barely brushing against you. Whether it was the first or the thousandth time you’d done this, your lips still parted, a sharp inhale filling the room as you sank down. The sensation was somehow still dizzying, straddling the line between pleasure and pain, leaving you struggling to catch your breath even when you were fully seated in his lap again. 

You forced your eyes open when you realized they had clamped shut, taking in Thorn laid out underneath you. His hands had moved from behind his head to rest on the pillow, his chin tilted toward the ceiling, emphasizing the strong lines of his throat. The caress of your fingers over his stomach had Thorn opening his eyes, endless pupils zeroing in on your face and his fingers twitched. Your eyes slid to the nightstand beside your bed, your datapad innocently charging, and a devious little smile spread across your face.

“Hand me my datapad, please,” you murmured, tracing the faint V-line that disappeared underneath you. Thorn narrowed his eyes, a little puzzled by the request until it seemed to dawn on him and he huffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he blindly reached for the device. 

“What kind of proof do you plan on sending?” he asked, returning his hand to its previous position. 

“Not too keen on Fives getting a peep show,” you teased, arching a brow at your boyfriend over the top of your datapad. The relief that flashed across his face forced you to bite back a smile, something that turned out to be useless when the alternative occurred to him. 

“You never planned on sending a picture of yourself, did you?” Thorn chuckled, although it sounded a bit strained. 

“Nope,” you replied, exaggerating the pop of the p. You lifted your eyes from the screen in front of you, licking your lips as your gaze raked over him, the soft light from the bedside lamp making his skin seem to glow. Thorn seemed to be waiting for your next move, his nostrils flaring as he fought to stay perfectly still, doing his best to ignore the fact that you were sitting on his cock. You held his gaze, bringing your hand down between your legs to gently circle your clit. A high-pitched grunt forced its way past your lips and you clenched involuntarily, giving you exactly what you wanted. 

Thorn’s tilted back again, his mouth dropping open with a harsh exhale and you quickly snapped the picture, tossing the datapad aside as soon as it pinged to let you know the message sent. Thorn grunted, his eyes popping open when you suddenly leaned forward, bracing both of your hands on his chest. One large hand covered yours, squeezing what fingers he could; a silent reassurance as well as an order to keep them there.

The first roll of your hips sent a chill down your spine, accompanied by a breathy moan that made Thorn’s grip on your hands tighten. It felt like you were going to come apart at the seams but there was a part of you that still wanted to stay like this, savoring the fullness of Thorn buried inside you. He, however, seemed to run out of patience. You hadn’t even noticed that his free hand had moved, too focused on the soft ripples of pleasure washing over you, that you immediately tensed when his hand met your ass with a crack. However, the shock didn’t last long and you whined, pressing back into his hand as he squeezed the faintly stinging area. 

“While you do look so pretty like this, cyar’ika, I wanna see you bounce on my cock,” Thorn rumbled, delivering another softer smack to your ass. And who were you to deny him? You pushed off his chest, sitting upright again, and immediately lifted your hips, letting your head fall back as you did as he asked. His hands found your hips and you immediately gripped one of his forearms, your other hand toying with your breast. Thorn absently traced the slope of your hips with his thumbs, the gentle touch drawing your attention and you lifted your head again to look down at his face. 

He was watching how he disappeared inside you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and you clenched as he pulled down onto his cock again, groaning through clenched teeth. Your thighs ached, forcing you to slow your pace and Thorn’s eyes darted up to your face, his hands dropping away from your hips. Without the extra support, you slowly further, squeezing your eyes shut as you continued to grind against him. It happened so fast that you could barely get your arms out when a hand gripped your jaw, pulling you down. 

The kiss was rough, teeth knocking together as you tried to steady yourself, keep up with Thorn as he explored your mouth, and met the short thrusts of his hips. You broke the kiss with a whimper, panting against his bruised lips, shivering at the way his thumb followed the curve of your jaw. You started to press more of your weight onto Thorn and he smiled, but there was a devious undertone to it that made you skeptical. Then suddenly you were moving, a squeal falling from your lips as he rolled you onto your back. You blinked up at him, your mouth hanging open as you tried to reorient yourself but Thorn didn’t give you a chance, snapping his hips forward hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. 

Thorn leaned forward, slanting his mouth over yours as he set a slow, devastating that had your toes curling. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek before groaning through his teeth when your nails dug into his lower back, his thrusts growing faster. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, the pleasure spreading to every inch of your body as you started to tense beneath him. Thorn leaned away enough to see your face and you watched a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. His eyes dropped to your mouth, the muscles in his jaw jumping before he opened his mouth, his tongue slipping out. The tip of his tongue the curve of your top lip, a teasing touch to coax you closer.

Without thinking you tilted your chin, closing your lips around his tongue and sucking gently. Thorn made a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat, his hips snapping forward with renewed purpose. You released his tongue only for him to surge forward again, kissing you again, his thrusts growing wilder. 

“Touch yourself,” Thorn panted against your lips, blindly reaching for one of your hands. It was overwhelming, every snap of his hips paired with the frantic circling of your fingers had you teetering dangerously on the edge of bliss, desperate for the inevitable fall. The pleasure finally reached a tipping point and you tensed, your mouth falling open with a silent cry as you came, hard. You were faintly aware of Thorn hiding his face against your neck, his hips twitched as he filled you with a muffled moan.  

Faint tremors continued to ripple through your body as you caught your breath, mindlessly rubbing circles between Thorn’s shoulder blades. His breathing had started to even out, the gentle, rhythmic puff of air raising goosebumps across your breast where his head was resting. Thorn exhaled slowly, turning his head to rest his chin on your sternum to look up at your face, a blissed-out look on his face. Your smile was groggy and a little lopsided but it seemed to make Thorn’s eyes twinkle, affection clear in the way he looked up at you.

“Hey,” you murmured, moving your hand to card through his messy curls.

“Hey, muffin,” he rumbled, leaning into your touch. He hummed quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours and his eyes drifted shut again.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned, lightly tugging on his hair. “We need to get cleaned up.” Thorn opened one eye, his brow arching and he just looked at you for a moment before he blinked a few times. 

“You’re right.” The corner of his mouth twitched, making your eyes narrow as he shifted down your body. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Cleaning up after myself,” Thorn replied with a smirk, pressing a lingering kiss between your breasts. Your eyes drifted shut and you settled into the soft mattress as Thorn lavished you with affection until he paused at your hip. It took more effort than you expected to force your eyes open, blinking slowly and you caught the hint of mischief in Thorn’s eyes before he slid down between your legs.

“What are -” The end of your sentence was replaced with a harsh gasp, your thighs immediately closing around Thorn’s head as he licked up the cum dripping out of you. Your arms trembled as you propped yourself up, your mouth hanging open slightly when his eyes flickered up to meet yours. There was a smugness there but the new waves of pleasure spreading through your body distracted you. 

Your voice cracked when you cried out, his name coming out broken when he shoved his tongue into your sensitive pussy. You were quickly rushing toward a second orgasm and you had the feeling it wouldn’t be your last.

The quiet hum of scattered conversations filled the barracks, a sound Fives found comforting as he lounged back in his bunk. Hardcase’s laugh from somewhere above him brought a faint smile to his face and he turned his head, watching Jesse and Kix arguing over a game of sabacc. Fives sighed when the quiet ping of his datapad cut through the room and he flipped it up, his eyes locking onto the familiar notification. 

“Hey, assholes!” Fives yelled, scrambling to lean out of his bunk, searching for Vaugh and Hawk. He jumped when Hardcase’s head appeared from the top bunk, his face slowly turning red. 

“What’s up?” Hardcase asked. 

“Guess who just got a message from Mouse.” A wicked grin spread across Fives’ face as he waved his datapad in the general direction the rest of Torrent was sitting. There was a sudden flurry of movement, boots and socked feet thumping against the floor just barely covering up Kix’s distressed shout. Fives yelped when Jesse borderline dove into his bunk and he caught a glimpse of Vaughn and Hawk awkwardly catching Hardcase as he rolled off the top bunk. Somehow Fives ended up with four brothers piled on top of him. 

“Get your knee out of my ass, Hardcase,” Jesse grumbled, elbowing Fives in the ribs.

“Stop moving,” Fives wheezed, yanking his arm out from under Vaughn. It took a few more seconds of repositioning and harsh jabs before they found a somewhat comfortable position. He glanced over his shoulder, snorting to himself before finally clicking on the message. 

It took a few seconds for his brain to register what he was looking at but when it did, Fives threw his datapad. It knocked into the bunk Kix was sitting on, landing screen up. Fives didn’t even have to look at his brothers to know they were all wearing similar horrified looks. He waited for the same look to cross Kix’s face but instead, Kix threw his head back, laughing like a maniac. The four brothers crammed into the small space started to peel themselves away from Fives, staring at their medic with similar concerned looks. 

“What is wrong with you?” Fives asked, refusing to look at the picture again. It was more of Thorn than Fives ever wanted to see even if it was just his upper body. 

“Oh, stars,” Kix gasped between laughter, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he toppled forward onto the mattress. “Looks - looks like you got what you wanted, huh?”

“No. No, I did not, Kix,” Fives snapped which only made their medic laugh harder. Fives glared down at the now-dark datapad, ignoring Kix’s quiet wheezing, and vowing to get back at you somehow. 

But first, he was deleting that picture…and possibly burning his datapad.

Taglist: @clonemedickix @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @rain-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite @blueink-bluesoul @multi-fan-dom-madness

[mercurycft]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 & 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 𝐋𝐁

## lucy bronze x reader !!

Hi all! Enjoy this very very smutty imagine with jealous and top!lucy.. there's also a possibility a part 2 if people want it!? Love always.. RG x

contains: jealous!lucy , top!lucy bottom!reader, fingering, strap-on, mentions of leah williamson, teasing, dirty talk b

1,413 words.

CONTAINS MATURE LANGUAGE & CONTENT 18+

"Strip."

Oh dear this is bad, you thought. It had been months since you had last seen Lucy in this state. Her hair was loosely thrown over her shoulders and cascading down her back, still dressed in her outfit from the party - her white shirt now unbuttoned and exposing her bra as she stood before you.

She was fuming. Not only could you feel it rattling around the room, you could see it. A fire of rage sat heavy behind her deep eyes, jaw clenching periodically as she studied you - her chest heaving as she inhaled and exhaled. You stood like a dear caught in headlights before her, eyes wide and mouth hung slightly agape at the sight of her. You had made it through the door only having it closed for maybe 30 seconds when you heard her voice ring through the room, your shoes were barely off when you turned to follow her voice.

She had gotten home before you, leaving the after-party early and ready to call it a night. The night was still young when she had decided to leave so, you stayed. Draped across your teammates as you collectively laughed, danced and sang horribly through the DJ's playlist of old-school hits.

That was two hours ago now, and after stumbling through the door of your shared apartment as quietly as possible - you were caught.

She wasn't upset you had stayed out, it happened often between you both. She wasn't upset you were dancing on tables in a dress that fit like a glove - clinging to your curves and leaving little to the average imagination. You internally ran through the possible causes of her current situation but were stumped. Then you remembered, the way she had her eyes locked on you from her seat. Your back pressed against Leah's front, bodies swaying to the beat of the song that echoed through the place. Fuck you thought, remembering how she clenched her glass and jaw in unison at the sight of you grinding against your captain.

"Did I stutter? I said, strip." Her voice ripped you from your thoughts, eyes now meeting hers. Noticing how she admired you from across the room, eyes sweeping from your head to your toes - lingering on your chest for almost a second too long.

You remained still for a moment after she spoke, thighs pressed tightly together. Don't push her, you thought. Slowly and carefully lifting your hands to clasp the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head without argument - now exposed to her.

"Bedroom." She whispered, but it wasn't weak, it was strong. A command. An order. You followed it willingly, moving towards your bedroom with her following behind slowly. She couldn't help but watch how your hips moved when you walked, eyes fixated on the way they swayed with each step.

Once you had made it, you stood next to the bed back towards her. Before you had the chance to turn around and speak she had closed the gap between you, her front was pressed against you, her hand up and twisted your hair - pulling you closer against her chest.

She seemed to tower over you, five inches feeling like a foot when the back of your head met with the hot skin of her chest. Her mouth was instantly on your neck, peppering rough and needy kisses below your ear and down the length of your shoulder. Her breath was warm, goosebumps following in her path.

Your eyes were closed tightly, licking your lips as you felt her tongue travel up towards your jaw and stop when her lips pressed against your ear. "Bend over."

You and Lucy had established a long time ago that she liked to be dominant in the bedroom, giving orders and overall giving but it was rare to see her like this. You would be lying if you said it didn't set your body on fire, hairs all standing on end and heart thumping behind its bony cage at the thought of her having her way with you.

You were bent in seconds, weight resting on your hands and head facing down between them - gathering your thoughts and shuddering a deep breath in anticipation. You were left like this for a minute or two. First, there was a shuffling behind you as she searched through the drawers beside her and then silence when she had found what she was looking for. Deep down you knew what it was and the burning in the pit of your stomach increased, sending shockwaves through your lower abdomen and down your legs at the mere thought. Lucy, however, was busy admiring you from behind - on full display for her, clearly enjoying you trying to squeeze your legs together for some form of release.

When she finally caved it was her fingers, tracing through your slick folds methodically. Collecting the wetness on her fingers and circling your sensitive clit. She always knew how to please you, using the perfect amount of pressure with the pads of her fingers. You craved her, whimpering at the feeling of her fingers on you - pushing your hips back to meet her hand, begging for more friction where you needed it most.

You could practically hear her smirk from behind you, moving her fingers to circle your entrance now. Hesitating for a moment before she pulled away completely.

"Lucy, fuck, please.." You pleaded, head lifting in a contest to her actions.

"Get on the bed, on your knees." and you did, scrambling on top of the covers and planting yourself on your knees and elbows, head down facing away from her. You could hear her shuffle again, the sound of her clothes hitting the bedroom floor and her feet navigating their way into something new making your stomach somersault.

She made you wait longer, adjusting herself on the bed behind you. Amused at the way you whined for her, tossing your weight between your knees and squirming for her. Then, you felt it. The tip of her strap caressing you gently. She was gentle, but firm with her actions. Sliding the head between your folds, coating the silicone in your slick before sitting at your entrance once more.

"What's your safeword, baby.." She whispered, breaking character momentarily. It made your heart swell in your chest, perking up to reply.

"Red."

"Good girl.." She praised lowly, pressing into you. Stretching perfectly until it sat snug between your walls. She waited a minute until she was confident you were ready, bracing her hands on your hips as she began to move.

Her thrusts were calculated. Slow and hard. You whimpered into the sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as she filled you perfectly. Pulling out slowly just to force herself back into you, pulling your hips back to meet her halfway. Her pace increased with your volume, moaning out as the harsh slaps resonated through the room.

You could hear her breathing, it was erratic. Low curses under her breath matched her thrusts, watching as she stretched you around her.

"You take me so well, don't you baby?" She queried, voice hoarse.

You nodded below her, scared if you tried to speak you would scream out. Though the sheets did a poor job at muffling your moans when you felt her let out a breathy laugh from behind you. Your sultry noises ignited a wildfire in her veins, her hand moving to grip your hair roughly.

"God don't stop, Luce.." You begged, mouth left agape when she grumbled.

"Could she fuck you like this?" It caught you off guard, and you shivered beneath her. "Could she? Would you let her fuck you like this? Stretching you out? hm?" You knew it was rhetorical, but shook your head furiously. Unable to speak. As if she had snipped your vocal chords and stolen them straight out of your throat.

"That's what you want huh? Do you want her to fuck you? Maybe I'll send her a message... I know you love being used." You blushed at the thought, a deep pink cascading over your face and chest. You had never thought about it before, but the images she was feeding you were filthy and they contorted your stomach as her other hand snaked down to toy with your clit. "You want us both? Want us to take turns hm?"

That was all it took for you, overwhelmed by her thrusts and the images now prominent in your mind, your first orgasm ripped through you harshly. Clenching around her strap-on and crying through the room. she didn't stop though, instead pushing your head down further into the sheets and continuing.

—————————

This continued until you were spacey, head filled with the images she was compiling. The filthiest thoughts you can imagine, now after 3 orgasms you lay with her head between your legs. Her tongue grazed your swollen clit, lapping your juices up as you squirmed.

When she pulled away, her lips were red and her chin glistened with you. Smirking as she raised to kiss you passionately, passing your taste on.

She stroked your hair gently as she readjusted you and moved you to lay on the pillows, praising you for taking it so well when your eyes met hers and her shit-eating grin. She made sure you were comfy, kissing you softly in direct contrast to her previous actions.

She went to leave the room, off to grab water for you both and a towel. Though she only made it two steps out the door, poking her head back inside and you couldn't help but laugh when she uttered a low. "Maybe I'll give Leah a text.." fuck.

[snowball-doie]

୨୧ Inspection w/ Johnny ୨୧

| pairing: Dom!Johnny x sub!fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. NSFW link. Daddy kink. Sex toy. Inspection kink. Vaginal and anal fingering. Edging. Slight choking. Mentions of unprotected vaginal and anal sex.

| wc: 2k

"Let's see how you did, baby girl, okay? Spread your legs for me."

Johnny was in a playful mood ever since the two of you landed in Jakarta the day prior. Being on vacation in hot weather always got him riled up because he really had nowhere to be and nothing to do aside from keeping you trapped in bed all day with something between your legs-- Whether it was his fingers, his face, his cock, or toys, Johnny was having all the fun in the world watching you cum over and over again.

"You can scream, baby, it's okay, no one's gonna hear us."

That was why he got a villa in the resort. His manager wanted to book a suite in the hotel, but smug Johnny wasn't content with that, because he knew that if he was really going to enjoy his week away with you, then you needed to be somewhere where he could do anything and everything with no worries or repercussions. So the villa it was. He fucked you in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, every single bathroom, on the back patio that had a beautiful view of the sunset he made you watch while he came inside of you.

What Johnny didn't like, however, was the break in his sex-a-thon for having to DJ at a small festival one night. He was invited to Jakarta to be a DJ, but he turned the whole event into an escape with you. So when work came, he was a bit sour. Sour enough that he thought up a way that he could still work you up and have his fun with you even while he had to stand in front of fans who were there to see him and listen to his music.

"That's a good girl. Put your skirt back on and clean yourself up quickly, or else we're gonna be late."

Johnny helped you to your feet before patting your bare ass. His idea of fun for the night was putting a toy in you that he could control from his phone that he would have up on stage with him, mixed in with all of his DJ equipment so no one from the audience would blink twice at his fidgeting hands and the grin on his face. The whole night, while on the way to the show, and while waiting for him to go on stage, you felt the toy buzz on and off inside of you, the small tail end pressed against your clit nearly making you topple over and moan in the crowd you had to stand in because there was no "backstage" area for you to watch. When Johnny ran on stage, he smiled and waved to the fans before finding his place in front of his equipment. He immediately got to work once his headset was on. The music started playing, the fans were brought to life with energy, and you squeezed your glass for dear life when you felt the toy turn on to the max setting. He was dancing up there while bouncing on his toes and waving his arms around, all while grinning at you and the fact that you couldn't have looked more obvious if you tried. He was being cruel. And he knew it. That was why he only ever edged you throughout the show. While the fans got the euphoria of beat drops and getting to see Johnny Suh sweating up close, you had your high stolen from you time after time, despite your pleading eyes in his direction.

At the end of the night, when you two were back in the villa, Johnny turned the toy on again, and he chuckled while watching you stumble to the bedroom, catching yourself on furniture that you passed by so that your shaky legs wouldn't give out completely underneath you.

"Please, I can't take it anymore," you begged with a hoarse voice.

"Yes, you can, silly girl. Come on, let me help you." He offered out his hands which you quickly accepted so that you could find relief by laying on the bed under him. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"I'm glad." He stripped you of your shirt and bra. "Let's see how you did, baby girl, okay? Spread your legs for me." You did as he commanded, spreading your legs so that he could push your skirt up out of the way. "Cute," he whispered under his breath, then pressed a finger against your clothed entrance. "You made such a mess, baby girl..." As he slowly retreated his touch, you saw a bit of slick stuck to his fingertip. You'd soaked through your underwear. Fuck. "Let's get a better look..." He swiftly removed your underwear with a self-satisfied smirk. "Fuck, baby girl, how many times did I edge you?"

"Seven."

"Oh, my poor girl... I'm sorry... Can I make it up to you?"

You nodded eagerly, looking down at him to find that he was tugging on the tail of the toy to remove it from you. With a lewd pop from your pussy and a moan from your lips, the toy was pulled out. Johnny chuckled and licked the toy clean.

"You taste so fucking good. Fuck."

And once he was done with the toy, Johnny put it to the side so that he could return to you and your needs after being so cruel all night. Relief swept over you within an instant when he started rubbing his fingers and palm all over your cunt and ass, feeling you up, gauging how wet you really were, making a mess of your thighs and ass with your own slick before he suddenly slid a single finger into your pussy. Your back arched off the bed in response. Johnny kissed the back of your calves which were raised high in the air, his finger sliding out of you to rub your drenched clit, then back into you he went. Over and over again, he repeated the motions, his finger curling to hit your g-spot while he aggressively fucked you. And then he started teasing your other hole.

You popped upright onto your elbows with wide eyes that made him laugh again. "Wait, Daddy--"

"I need to inspect all of your holes to understand how mean I was tonight, baby. Don't you want me to learn so I don't do it again?"

Your face fell.

"Be a good girl and relax."

Johnny loved your ass. More than anything in the world, you figured sometimes, because it was the one thing that he thought of as his, the one hole no one but him had touched, the one thing that no matter how often he bullied it, it would never loosen or fight back against him. Both of you moaned when his finger slid into your tight ass. He was slow. He watched you carefully, waiting for a hard "No" or "Stop" to fall from your lips, but when it never came, he decided to reward you by sliding out of your ass and back into your dripping entrance with two fingers, causing you to whine and buck around— Johnny immediately put a stop to that by pinning you down with an arm pressing down on the back of your thighs that were curled up to your chest. He continued to kiss your legs while he fingered you quickly.

“I’m close—”

Much to your dismay, Johnny pulled his fingers out of you, slowly circling your clit and drifting down to rub his fingertips over your ass again.

In response to your pouting, Johnny teased, “That’s eight. You can do two more for me, baby girl, I know you can, just let me take care of you.”

So you grinned and beared it when Johnny started testing you with two fingers in your asshole and one finger in your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit. He was being mean again for his own entertainment because it was so easy to get you to edge like that, but he didn’t want to edge you so quickly because once you would hit the number ten, he would likely have to reward you for being so good, and he wasn’t feeling that nice yet. So he waited. His fingers went slow, working your holes open for him while he continued to litter the rest of your body with tender kisses that made you melt under him and roll your eyes to the back of your head. Why did he have to be so good at ruining you? Why was he so good with his fingers? Why did he have to know all of your sensitive spots and the right things to whisper in your ear as his two fingers in your ass scissors outwards to stretch you.

“You think you can take me tonight?”

And there it was, Johnny’s obsession with your ass taking root in the back of your mind, urging you to nod, almost like you were actually begging him to fuck your ass once he was done with torturing you.

“Good girl.”

Once he put two fingers in each hole and continued to flick your clit with his thumb, you knew you were a goner. He won. There was nothing you could do to hide the fact that he’d worked you up all night to the point that there were no thoughts left in your head, and all that was left of you was a symphony of moans that were like music to Johnny’s ears while he pinned you down with his free hand wrapped around your throat. You wanted him— No, you needed him. It didn’t matter that he’d fucked you every which way ‘til Sunday, you needed more of him, and those last two edges he indirectly promised you weren’t going to cut it.

“Close—”

Johnny stilled his movements. “Nine. One more, baby, then I’m all yours.”

You nodded obediently, even taking his thumb into your mouth for a moment before he returned to choking you while fingering both of your holes. It felt like heaven… Four fingers moving in and out of you, hitting all kinds of different spots— Sometimes you could even feel his middle finger and ring finger brushing up against each other through the walls that separated your two holes. Part of you was tempted to ask him if he’d finger you while fucking your ass sometime. Johnny wouldn’t be opposed.

As his thumb started rubbing your clit counter-clockwise, the overstimulated bud couldn’t take it anymore, and before you could even warn him, you were cumming on his fingers, his grip on your throat tightening to make sure you stayed pinned, his brows furrowed in concentration as he helped you through your orgasm despite the fact that he never gave you permission nor did you finish your ten edges like he wanted. But then again, nothing made Johnny happier than the feeling of your asshole squeezing around him, whether it was his fingers, tongue, or dick.

After you came down from your high, you slumped— But then Johnny slapped your clit, making you jolt and whine.

“That’s for not asking permission.”

You pouted. “I’m sorry, Daddy…”

“I know, baby,” he cooed apologetically as his fingers pulled out of you and he shifted to sit fully between your thighs before he began undoing his pants. “I’m still not done, though. Be a good girl and hold your legs open for me, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Every part of you was tired and overstimulated, but you grabbed your thighs and kept them spread and pressed against your stomach while Johnny leaned over you and lined his tip up with your ass, just like he promised. A wicked smile spread across his face when he saw how fucked-out yet needy you were. Just for him. Always for him.

“Good girl.” And with that, he slowly started thrusting in.

taglist: @trash-number-one , @henderysposts , @tiredlittlevirgo , @theycallmesya ,

@markieocean , @nneteyamss , @strawberryax0lotl , @wayycoolbabylove

@k-pop-luv04 ,

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus. 

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away. 

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance. 

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show. 

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo. 

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again. 

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister. 

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick. 

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of  your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves. 

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league. 

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol. 

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask. 

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you. 

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem. 

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut. 

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension. 

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving. 

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled. 

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion. 

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.  

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold. 

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig. 

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand. 

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses. 

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement. 

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache. 

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils.  His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad. 

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first. 

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions. 

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you. 

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy. 

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt. 

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble. 

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets.  A woman can only make so many sacrifices. 

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check. 

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth. 

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar. 

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open. 

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth. 

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll.  You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air. 

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts. 

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning. 

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other. 

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him. 

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return. 

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess. 

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily. 

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal. 

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you. 

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms. 

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment. 

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you. 

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work. 

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember. 

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t. 

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled. 

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky. 

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point. 

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t. 

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace. 

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged. 

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder. 

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time. 

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble. 

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway. 

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together. 

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me! 

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky. 

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole. 

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed. 

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer. 

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost. 

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements. 

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right. 

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors. 

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response. 

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock. 

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?” 

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.” 

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer. 

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.  

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe. 

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.” 

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.” 

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern. 

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them. 

It won’t be happening again.

[rispwr]

expect the unexpected - myg - os

pairings : idol! myg x bartender! reader

sypnosis: meeting an idol at a bar as a bartender? Especially the fact that it was your favourite idol, was definitely was not in your expectations, knowing well the media is all around you both.

word count: 5k+

contents/warnings: smut, ykyk, idol x fan, s2l, fast burn or whatever u call it, unprotected sxx, public media hate?, full of suprises, pwp, oral(fem recieving), slight tit play,

Not proofread

The pounding bass of the club reverberated through my chest as I worked my way behind the bar, pouring drinks with precision and a smile, despite how tired I was feeling. The club was packed tonight, bodies swaying under neon lights, laughter and chatter mixing with the pulsing music. It was another typical Friday night, one where I’d usually lose myself in the rhythm of the job, letting the hustle and bustle distract me from anything going on in my personal life.

But tonight, something felt different. There was an odd tension in the air, or maybe it was just my own nerves after hearing earlier in the day that there was going to be a high-profile guest at the club. I didn’t know who it would be, but the manager had warned us to be on our best behavior. I usually was, but the anticipation had been gnawing at me all evening, especially as the hours ticked closer to closing time.

I wiped down the counter for the hundredth time that night, glancing at the crowd every now and then, hoping to spot the mystery guest. Maybe it would be someone cool, like an actor or a famous DJ. Little did I know, my whole world was about to shift in the next few minutes.

The door opened, and I noticed someone walk in, but it wasn’t just anyone. It was him.

Min Yoongi.

My heart skipped a beat, then pounded furiously in my chest. Oh my god, it’s really him. Min Yoongi, the man I’d admired for years, the genius behind so many of my favorite songs. His music had been my escape, my motivation, my comfort on so many days. And now, here he was, stepping into the very club where I worked. My hands were shaking just thinking about it.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry, as I watched him casually approach the bar. His presence commanded the space, even though he moved with such a laid-back aura, his black leather jacket clinging to him effortlessly. He glanced around briefly before his eyes landed on me, and I froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Stay calm, Y/N. You’re a professional. You can’t freak out right now.

"Good evening, sir. What can I get you?" I somehow managed to ask, though my voice came out shaky. My palms were sweating, and I was sure my face was flushed.

Yoongi’s gaze softened as a small smirk played at the corners of his lips. "Does the drink come with the bartender making it?" he joked, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

I chuckled nervously, trying to play it off like I wasn’t completely losing it on the inside. "You’re very funny, sir," I replied, forcing a smile. Act normal, Y/N, act normal.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than I expected, and I could feel my heart racing again. "What can you recommend?" he asked, leaning slightly on the counter, his eyes still locked on mine.

I was momentarily speechless, my brain scrambling to function. What was a good drink?

I bit my lip, trying to focus despite the intensity of his gaze. "Aperol Spritz," I blurted out, my voice still shaky. It was a safe choice, something light but classy. I was hoping he’d go for it.

"That sounds good," he said, giving me a warm, gummy smile that nearly melted me on the spot. His smile—it was even more beautiful in person than I’d ever imagined.

I quickly turned to grab the ingredients, my hands trembling slightly as I started mixing the drink. I could feel his eyes on me, and it was driving me insane. The way he leaned against the bar, so casual, so effortlessly cool—it was like a scene out of a movie, one I never thought I’d be part of.

As I focused on mixing the drink, I heard him speak again, his voice low and curious. "What time’s your shift end?"

My hand faltered for a moment, nearly spilling the Aperol. "Uh, 10 p.m.," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though my heart was thudding in my chest. Why was he asking about my shift?

"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself, focusing on the drink to avoid looking directly at him.

"May I take you out?" His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I almost dropped the glass.

I choked on my own breath, coughing slightly in surprise. Did I just hear that right? My idol, the man whose music had shaped so much of my life, was asking to take me out? It felt surreal, like a dream I didn’t dare believe was happening.

"Sir—" I started to protest, my mind racing with confusion, excitement, and nerves all at once.

He cut me off, that same playful smirk still on his lips. "Just get my number then."

Before I could even react, he reached over and gently grabbed my wrist, pulling out a pen from his jacket. My breath hitched as I felt the warmth of his fingers on my skin. With a few quick strokes, he scribbled his number on my wrist.

"Call me. Please," he said, his voice softer now, more sincere. His eyes met mine again, and for a moment, everything else in the club disappeared. It was just me and him, locked in this surreal moment that I knew I would remember for the rest of my life.

I blinked, still trying to process everything as I finished making his drink and handed it to him. He took it with that same easy confidence, his fingers brushing against mine briefly before he lifted the glass to his lips.

The way he drank the Aperol Spritz—quickly, effortlessly, like it was water—was somehow the hottest thing I had ever seen. My eyes were glued to him, watching as he downed the drink with a casual grace that left me even more flustered than before.

When he set the glass down, he gave me one last smile before standing up from the bar. I watched, completely starstruck, as he slowly made his way out of the club, disappearing into the night like some kind of ethereal being.

For a few seconds, I just stood there, still clutching the bar counter, my mind reeling from what had just happened. My idol—Min Yoongi—had not only spoken to me, but he had given me his number.

Holy cow.

It felt too good to be true. I glanced down at my wrist, at the messy numbers scrawled there, and my heart skipped another beat. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.

I was still buzzing with excitement and disbelief as I continued working, but my mind kept drifting back to Yoongi, to the way he had looked at me, the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand on mine. The rest of my shift flew by in a blur, and when 10 p.m. finally rolled around, I couldn’t get out of the club fast enough.

As soon as I was out the door, I pulled out my phone, staring at the numbers on my wrist. My fingers hovered over the keypad, nerves bubbling up inside of me. Should I really call him? What if this was all a joke, or worse, what if he didn’t even remember me?

But then I thought about the way he had smiled at me, the way his eyes had lingered just a little too long. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a dream.

Taking a deep breath, I finally dialed the number. The phone rang once, twice, three times, before a familiar voice answered.

"Hello?"

My heart leaped into my throat, and for a second, I couldn’t find my voice. "Uh, hi... it’s Y/N. From the club."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then I heard his soft chuckle. "Ah, the bartender. I’m glad you called."

I bit my lip, trying to hide my giddiness. "Yeah, well, you kind of gave me no choice," I teased lightly.

"Fair enough," he replied, amusement in his voice. "So, what do you say? Still up for going out?"

I glanced around, my nerves suddenly replaced with excitement. "Yeah, I think I am."

The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains as I sat at my vanity, carefully applying the finishing touches to my makeup. I was feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness; today wasn’t just any day—it was my first real date with Min Yoongi after i literally spent the whole night talking to him. The Yoongi. My heart raced at the thought of spending time with him outside of the club, just the two of us, with no distractions.

I had barely finished putting on my lipstick when my phone rang, causing me to jump slightly. I grabbed it quickly, seeing his name flash on the screen.

"Hey," his deep voice flowed through the line, smooth and warm. "I'll pick you up. Send me your address, pretty."

I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. Pretty. He called me that so casually, yet it made my heart skip a beat every time. I tried to sound nonchalant, but my voice betrayed me with a soft chuckle. "Oh, okay," I replied, fumbling as I typed out my address and sent it to him.

He responded with a simple "Got it. See you soon," and I hung up, staring at my reflection for a moment longer. Okay, Y/N. You’ve got this. Just be yourself.

I opted for something casual but cute—an airy summer dress that I felt confident in, paired with my favorite sandals. I didn’t want to overdo it, but at the same time, I wanted to look good. After all, this wasn’t just any date. This was a date with Yoongi.

As I finished getting ready, I heard a knock on the door. My heart leaped, and I quickly checked my reflection one last time before rushing over to open it. The moment I pulled the door open, there he was.

Yoongi stood there, dressed in a simple yet effortlessly stylish outfit—a white button-down shirt, slightly rolled up at the sleeves, paired with black slacks. His black hair fell softly over his forehead, and his eyes twinkled with amusement as he took in my appearance.

For a brief moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. My face flushed under his gaze, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.

"You look..." He paused, his lips curving into a small smile as he ran a hand through his hair. "So damn pretty."

His words made my heart flutter, and I laughed nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thanks," I murmured, trying to play it cool, though inside I was melting.

He extended his hand toward me. "Shall we?"

I took his hand, his fingers warm against mine as he led me out of my apartment. As we walked to his car, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him, still in awe of the fact that this was really happening. Yoongi—the man whose music I had adored for years—was holding my hand, and we were about to go on a date. It felt like a dream, one that I never wanted to wake up from.

Once we reached his car, Yoongi opened the passenger door for me, his actions gentlemanly and smooth. I slid in, my nerves settling slightly as I buckled my seatbelt and watched him move to the driver’s side. He got in and started the car, and soon enough, we were on our way.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, curious.

He glanced at me briefly, his smile returning. "It’s a surprise," he said cryptically, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A surprise, huh?"

"You’ll like it, I promise," he added, giving me a reassuring look. I trusted him, though I couldn’t deny that the mystery only added to the excitement bubbling in my chest.

As we drove, the conversation flowed easily between us. Yoongi was surprisingly easy to talk to, despite his usually quiet and reserved demeanor. He asked me about my work, my hobbies, and what I liked to do for fun, and I found myself opening up to him in a way that felt natural and comfortable.

In return, he shared little snippets of his life, telling me funny stories about his friends and how much he loved producing music. He talked about his love for quiet places, the serenity of sitting by a river with a notebook, just writing. It was moments like these that made me realize just how thoughtful and introspective he was—a side of him that wasn’t always visible in public.

After about thirty minutes of driving, we pulled up to a secluded park just on the outskirts of the city. It was beautiful—quiet, with large trees providing shade and a lake glistening in the sunlight.

"Wow," I breathed as I stepped out of the car. The peacefulness of the place immediately put me at ease, and I couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind Yoongi’s choice.

He came around the car, taking my hand once again as we walked toward the lake. "I figured we could have a picnic," he said, nodding toward a small basket he had in the backseat.

My heart swelled at the idea. "A picnic? Aren't you scared we might caught by the media?" I grinned, looking up at him.

His ears turned a slight shade of pink, and he shrugged. "i don't really care about what the media says. i'm a human aswell"

I squeezed his hand gently, touched by the gesture. "well then, i love it"

We found a perfect spot under a large tree, the shade providing a cool relief from the warm sun. Yoongi laid out a blanket, and soon we were sitting together, the gentle breeze carrying the soft sounds of nature around us.

He opened the picnic basket, revealing an array of snacks—fruit, sandwiches, even a small bottle of wine. It was simple but thoughtful, and I couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to be here with him.

As we ate, we continued talking, sharing more stories and laughing over silly things. At one point, Yoongi picked up a strawberry and held it out to me. "Here," he said, his eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle.

I giggled, leaning forward to take a bite, but at the last second, he pulled the strawberry away, smirking. "Too slow."

I playfully glared at him, crossing my arms. "Not fair," I pouted.

He chuckled, and after a moment, he held the strawberry out again, this time letting me take a bite. The sweet taste of the fruit was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through me from his teasing smile.

Time seemed to pass effortlessly as we lounged together, enjoying the serenity of the park. At one point, Yoongi leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes as he soaked in the peaceful atmosphere. I took the opportunity to study him, admiring the way the sunlight filtered through the branches above, casting a soft glow on his face.

He looked so at peace, so content. And it made me feel the same.

After a while, he opened his eyes, catching me staring. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

"You’re beautiful, you know that?" he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt my cheeks flush, my heart doing a little flip at his words. "You’re not so bad yourself," I replied, trying to hide my embarrassment with a playful smile.

He chuckled softly, but the way his eyes lingered on mine told me that he meant what he said.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the park, Yoongi stood up, offering me his hand. "Come on," he said, his voice soft but insistent.

I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. We walked along the edge of the lake, the water reflecting the fading sunlight in a way that made everything feel almost magical. The world around us seemed to quiet down, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of the water against the shore and the occasional chirp of a bird in the distance.

At one point, Yoongi stopped walking, turning to face me. His expression had softened, a look of quiet contemplation on his face.

"I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me today," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

I looked up at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "I’m glad you asked me," I replied, my voice just as soft.

For a moment, we just stood there, the world around us fading into the background. It was just me and him, standing by the water, sharing a moment that felt almost too perfect to be real.

And then, without saying a word, Yoongi gently pulled me closer, his hand cupping my cheek as he leaned in. My heart raced, my breath hitching as his lips brushed against mine in the softest, sweetest kiss.

It was slow, tender, and filled with a warmth that spread through my entire body, leaving me breathless.

When we finally pulled away, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing softly in the quiet evening air.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but I could hear the emotion behind it.

I smiled, my heart swelling with a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time. "For what?"

"For being here. For giving me a chance," he replied, his eyes soft and sincere.

I reached up, gently brushing my fingers through his hair. "You’re worth it," I whispered back.

It had been a whirlwind of a week since Yoongi and I started going on dates regularly. We’d been keeping things low-key, not caring too much about what the media might say. It was blissful—no pressure, no complications, just us. Every date felt like a slice of heaven, whether we were sneaking out for late-night drives or staying in to watch movies on the couch. Yoongi had a way of making everything feel easy, and for a while, I let myself believe that this little bubble we created could last forever.

But nothing ever stays hidden for long, especially when you're dating one of the most famous people in the world.

I was lying on my bed, doing my skincare routine with a sheet mask on, absentmindedly scrolling through my phone. I wasn’t expecting to find anything upsetting. In fact, I was enjoying the downtime, a rare moment to myself. That was until I stumbled upon an article that instantly made my heart sink.

"Min Yoongi of BTS, spotted at a bar months ago, writing his number on a bartender's wrist."

I froze. My fingers hovered over the screen as I read the article in shock. The photo attached was blurry, but it was definitely me. I recognized the scene instantly—the night Yoongi had come to the club where I worked and had asked for my number. I remember being so shocked and flustered, and now the world had access to that private moment.

My heart pounded in my chest as I scrolled down, reading article after article, each one with more intrusive headlines. My stomach twisted in knots as I clicked on the comments section of one post.

"I found her IG!" "Is this the bartender?" "She’s dating Yoongi? How dare she!" "She’s not even that pretty."

Each comment was worse than the last. The hate spilled across the screen, words laced with venom from people who didn’t even know me, yet somehow felt entitled to tear me apart. My hands started shaking, and my eyes stung as I continued to read.

Suddenly, the door to my bedroom opened, and Yoongi walked in. He looked relaxed, his usual calm self, but that all changed the moment he saw me. I was still lying on the bed, mask on, my phone gripped tightly in my hand. He crossed the room in a few strides, his expression instantly softening with concern as he approached.

"Y/N, you okay?" he asked, his deep voice low and soothing.

I didn’t answer him right away. Instead, I kept scrolling, my heart sinking further with each hateful comment. I felt the bed dip as Yoongi sat down beside me. He leaned over, glancing at my phone. The moment he saw what I was looking at, his expression darkened.

“Baby, don’t listen to them,” he said softly, reaching for my hand, but I pulled it away, still glued to the screen. I felt numb, my mind racing with thoughts about how much this could affect Yoongi’s life. The last thing I wanted was for my presence in his life to cause problems for him. I’d seen what rabid fans could do, how cruel the internet could be.

"She’s using him for clout." "Yoongi deserves better than her." "She’s just a nobody. How did she get his attention?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look anymore. My body trembled, and I let out a shaky breath.

"Y/N," Yoongi's voice was firmer now, but still gentle. He reached out again, taking the phone from my hands this time. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. He set it aside, his body shifting as he leaned over me, his arms wrapping around me tightly, pulling me into his embrace. His warmth was familiar and comforting, but I was too upset to melt into him like I usually would.

"Yoongi, I…" I struggled to find the words. "I don’t want to ruin your reputation."

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, his arms still holding me close. “Baby, listen to me. This doesn’t change anything. I don’t care about what those people say.”

I opened my eyes, tears welling up as I looked up at him. "But what if they don’t stop, Yoongi? They’re already finding my social media, my pictures… It’s only going to get worse."

Yoongi gently brushed the hair away from my face, his eyes locking with mine. “I don’t care about them, Y/N. I care about you. They don’t know us, they don’t know you. And honestly, if they can’t accept that I’m dating someone, that’s on them. Not you.”

He leaned down, smashing his lips against mine, the kiss filled with urgency and a need to comfort me. My body responded instantly, my heart aching as I kissed him back, my hands gripping onto his shirt. His lips were soft, but the kiss was passionate, filled with emotion. He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against mine.

"Y/N, I love you. I love you, not what the media says, not what the fans think. You’re the one I want, the one I’ve chosen," he muttered between small kisses, his lips grazing mine as he spoke.

I let out a shaky breath, my heart racing, but I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “Yoongi… I love you too. But I’m scared. I don’t want this to ruin everything you’ve worked for. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your fans.”

His eyes softened, and he brushed away the tears that had escaped down my cheeks. "You’re not ruining anything, okay? If people can’t handle the fact that I’m happy with you, then that’s their problem, not yours." He kissed me again, slower this time, his hands cupping my face gently. "Please don’t leave because of this. I need you."

His words sent a wave of warmth through me, but the doubt still lingered. I pulled away slightly, biting my lip. “But what if it gets worse? What if the media digs into my past, or my family? What if it becomes too much for you?”

Yoongi let out a small sigh, his fingers trailing softly along my jawline. “I’ve been dealing with the media for years, Y/N. They always find something to talk about, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll protect you from all of that, I promise.” He paused, searching my eyes for a moment before continuing. “we need a fandom cleanse anyway.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the sincerity in his gaze. This wasn’t just about protecting his reputation—he truly cared about me, about us. And in that moment, I realized that no matter how much hate or negativity came our way, Yoongi and I had something real, something that wasn’t going to be torn apart by strangers on the internet.

“I trust you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I really do.”

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since I saw that article, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Yoongi wasn’t just saying empty words—he meant it. And I knew that no matter how tough things got, we’d find a way to navigate through it together.

We lay there for a while, tangled up in each other, the world outside fading away as I found comfort in his arms. He held me close, his steady heartbeat calming the storm inside me. Eventually, the anxiety that had been gnawing at me began to fade, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Yoongi kissed my forehead, his voice soft as he spoke. “Let’s just focus on us, okay? Don’t let those people get into your head. I love you, and that’s all that matters.”

I nodded, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s lips trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of warm, electrifying kisses as he pressed closer, his body hovering over mine. I could feel his breath against my skin, each kiss making me shiver with anticipation. His hands roamed over my body, soft but firm, as if he was memorizing every curve. I let out a soft whimper, my head tilting back to give him more access, and he took the invitation eagerly, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below my ear.

"Yoongi…" I whined, my voice barely a whisper, breathless from the way his mouth moved against my skin. His name slipped past my lips, a plea hidden in the sound, and I felt him smirk against my neck.

“Hm?” he hummed, his voice vibrating against me, sending a jolt through my body. He moved to my ear, nibbling lightly on the lobe before pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes. “What do you need, baby?” His voice was low, teasing, but I could see the dark hunger in his gaze.

I bit my lip, feeling the heat build up inside me, my heart pounding in my chest. "Need you…" I moaned lowly, my body arching beneath his as I tugged on his shirt, wanting nothing more than to feel him closer.

He groaned softly, his lips grazing mine before he kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue slipping past my lips in a slow, deliberate dance. The intensity made my head spin, and I could feel my body reacting to him, craving him.

Reaching for my phone, I unlocked it with shaky fingers and quickly scrolled through my playlist until I found the perfect song to match the mood—“Pretty When You Cry” by Lana Del Rey. As soon as the haunting melody filled the room, I dropped the phone to the side, letting the music set the atmosphere.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to the phone, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the song played. “Good choice,” he whispered, his voice a mix of admiration and desire. He kissed me again, this time rougher, more intense, like he couldn’t hold back anymore.

The music filled the room, the sensual beats of Lana’s voice blending with the sounds of our breathless kisses and the soft moans escaping my lips. 

"i love you so much y/n. from the moment i saw you i already loved you" he says in between the kisses. "may i?" he asks me and without hesitation i nod. nothing will be ever hotter than a man asking for consent. making sure i'm comfortable and alright with what he's doing.

 he slowly goes down to my lower part. sliding down my shorts, revealing my damped panty with a wet patch on it "so wet. all for me? hm?" he coos, rubbing circles on my clothed clit, my back arching just from his touch. "already? i'm not even doing anythig yet baby" he says chuckling. his teeth then bites on the hem of my panty, sliding it down to get full access of my cunt. "are you ready? we can stop if you want" he assures me "fuck no..keep going yoongs" i reply to him, shaky voice. 

his tounge then starts to circle my clit, making my eyes roll back. him, smiling at the lewd noises i make, enjoying this. my hands makes it's way to his hair, tugging it. his tounge then starts to do it's magic. "fuck yoongs! they were right! your tounge technology is insane" i whimper, broken words, unable to speak fully with all the pleasure he's been giving me. "i-im coming!" i mewl, tightening my grip on his hair "yes baby, cum on my face yeah?" he says in between. i then couldn't take it anymore.

i felt my orgasm nearing, releasing white liquids on his face. he then faces to me, fuck he is so hot. especially with my liquids on his face. i then take off my shirt revealing my naked breast, i then cup his face, smashing my lips onto him, mixed with lust and love. "yoongs need you..fuck me please" i whimpered onto him, making him give me a smirk. he then starts to unbuckle his belt, sliding down his pants, revealing his erected cock, leaking with pre cum. "i'm clean, on birth control" i said "great" he replies, diving back onto the kiss. 

his hands makes it's way to my breast, playing with my nipples as i feel his tip enter me "fuck, you're so tight" he grunts in between the kiss "you're mine, alright?" he says, deep voice, making me absolutely crazy. "fuck...yes i am" i reply, whimpering. "good girl" he chuckles, as our body releases wet noises and the bed creaking rhythmically in every thrust he makes. "yoongs..i'm close" i breathly said, not even a whisper nor a whimper anymore. "come with me baby yeah? cum for me" he says, biting his lips, looking at me. 

"open your eyes. i want you to see who's making you cum" i then try my best in keeping my eyes open. i then felt my orgasm nearing, releasing my liquids once again. "baby wait for me, i'm almost there" he howls, "fuck, want me to cum inside you? hm? you'd like that don't you??" he says, while leaving a chuckle. "min yoongi!" i scream as i felt his release inside me, filling me to the brim, our liquids mixing with each other. 

assurance sex is fucking great.

he then falls on top of me giving me a peck on my cheek "i love you, will you be my girlfriend?" he says revealing his gummy smile "yes i will" i give him a smile back, happily knowing i have him as mine, and me as his.

[reminiscingtonight]

And The Things You'd Do

Lia Wälti x Russo!Reader (Alessia Russo & Russo!Reader + Kyra Cooney-Cross & Russo!Reader)

Word Count: 1.4k

The Thing About Families (Part One) // That's How You Know It's Home (Part Three)

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s the shuffling of feet that draws your attention. 

You’re off stretching on the side of the field. Having just come back from injury, you’ve been approved for some light training and warm-ups while the other girls do their own drills. You’ve been doing alright all by your lonesome, so you’re surprised to see the Australian girl approaching. 

You’re quick to narrow your eyes at the sheepish look on her face.

“What is it?”

Kyra turns and you instantly see the problem. She tries to wiggle her arm, one sleeve somehow caught underneath her pinnie. “I’m stuck.”

Sighing, you jerk your head at her. “C’mere.”

The young girl brightens up at your command, dutifully rushing to your side before allowing you to free her from her self-made prison. 

“Go on,” you chuckle when she finally pops free. 

Kyra lets out a whoop before sprinting back towards the other girls.

You’re smiling fondly at her departing figure when you hear a familiar drawl.

“Thought you were getting sick of her.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. I had to grow up with you, Gio, and Luca. Kyra’s a breeze compared to you lot.”

Alessia lets out an offended squawk. “You take that back!”

You raise an eyebrow at her raised arm and Alessia freezes. She gives you a grin, quickly recycling her plans to give you a noogie. “Sorry. Point taken.”

“What can I say? She grew on me.”

Alessia huffs, dragging a toe in the grass as the two of you slowly make your way back to the others. “The taste of coffee can grow on you. Being relegated to passenger-side-car-DJ can grow on you. Annoying Australians cannot grow on you!”

“Relax, rat. I’m not replacing you with her. Think of Kyra as your unofficial niece.”

Alessia pulls a face at your words.

You shake your head. “Take it up with Lia. I’m pretty sure she’s ready to duel Mini for guardianship.”

---

So maybe you should’ve thought things through. 

When the ref whips out her red card, pointing for you to get off the field, you realize you might have gone a little too far. 

In your defense, it really wasn’t your fault.

The first yellow you get on purpose. 

No one messes with your baby sister. 

When Alessia is blatantly fouled and the referee lets play go on without a single care that the blonde is clutching her ankle in pain, it only seems right that you bulldoze through the player at fault. 

She milks the muck out of it and you’re rolling your eyes at the yellow card pointed your way, confidently swaggering your way back across the field to where Alessia’s still on the ground. 

Alessia winces when the trainer presses a little too hard on the joint, fingers nearly crushing yours that you’ve graciously lent her for support. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t have to do what?”

Alessia tries to look stern but all you can see is the little girl who would follow you everywhere just because she could. You know she’s trying to be strong but you’d recognize the tearful look on her face from a mile away.

Lia doesn’t find the humor in your act of retribution, rightfully chastising you into the locker room at halftime.

“It’s not my fault! Look what she did to Less! She’ll lucky if she only needs to be in the boot for two weeks!”

It isn’t until Kim gives you one of her disapproving glares that you wilt. 

“Sorry Kim,” you mumble, scuffing your shoes on the ground. “Won’t happen again.”

It happens again.

There’s only ten minutes left in the match when you feed the ball into your midfield and time seems to come to a standstill. 

You watch on with a twisted horror as Kyra leaps up to receive your ball. She barely gets a touch on it before she’s caught on the wrong side of a flying elbow, crumpling to the ground.

The whistle blows and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. One second you’re rushing across the field to be by Kyra’s side. The next you’re pivoting midstride, catching sight of the smirk on the offending player’s face. 

No one’s close enough to stop you from shoving her over. 

“You think that’s funny? Throwing your elbow into her face? Let’s see if you think it’s funny when I do it to you!” 

Steph catches you by the waist and hauls you back before anyone can test how serious you are. 

You’re still yelling and spitting when the ref stalks over, hand already digging into her pocket. 

There are boos and jeers when the inevitable comes and you throw a hand up in disgust. 

“Go on then, you gonna card her for drawing blood too?”

It’s clear your teammates don’t know what to do. 

Getting a yellow card is rare enough for you. But getting two and then being thrown out of a game? Practically unheard of in the years you’ve been at the club.

You ignore the look on their faces as you stomp all the way off the pitch and straight for the med room. You see Leah quirk her eyebrow, ready to give you an earful but you just push past, knowing full well that you’re going to get your ass handed to you later.

Alessia blinks up in surprise at the sound of the door opening.

She’s sat on top of an examining table, ankle propped on a pillow and wrapped in ice.

It only takes a second for her to realize what’s wrong with the picture. Alessia glances at the clock on the wall before her eyes flicker back to your fuming face. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” you mutter. You poke at the ice, ignoring the way Alessia hisses and slaps your shoulder. “How’s the foot? Are we going to need to amputate?”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “My foot is fine. Now what is this I hear of you getting a red card?” 

You glare at her phone, the sound of another message coming in, no doubt your mother telling Alessia about what you’ve done.

“Tell ma to stop snitching. That girl got exactly what she deserved for elbowing Kyra In the face.”

“Kyra got what?” Alessia gasps, eyes going wide.

Before you can repeat, the door opens behind you.

The two of you turn to see a sullen looking Kyra.

“Hi.” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Kyra so quiet before.

“Oh wow, you look miserable.” You’re not sure if Alessia thinks this is hilarious or sad, but you’d definitely say the latter.

Kyra did look miserable. Her nose is already becoming discolored, swelling and bruises become more prominent.

“C’mere,” you huff, pressing an icepack against her nose when she gets close enough to you.

Kyra hisses and tries to jerk back but you just follow with the ice.

“The sooner you stop moving the sooner your 15 minutes of icing will be done.”

You don’t even make it to the 15 before the door slams open again for the third time. 

“What did I say about getting unnecessary cards?!”

“Unnecessary?” you gwak. “Look at the kid! What part of me defending her was unnecessary?”

You backtrack. “Look at both of the kids.” You gesture wildly between Alessia and Kyra. 

Lia rolls her eyes but follows your fingers nonetheless. 

“Ma’s never going to let Less leave our house ever again, and Mini will probably drop by to kidnap Kyra and revoke our Australian baby access!”

“I’m not a baby--”

“Ma can’t stop me from moving out--”

You and Lia whip around to glare at Alessia. “You’re not moving out.”

Alessia frowns. “Whatever.” She crosses her arms. “Kyra’s a baby.”

The younger girl gasps in defiance before whimpering at the pain that radiates through her nose.

Lia looks a little exasperated when she turns back to you.

“Please. No more red cards.”

“No more red cards,” you echo. 

When Lia grabs hold of your hand, leading you back to be chewed out by your captains, you turn to get one last glance at the two troublemakers.

Alessia and Kyra are already looking your way, shooting you two thumbs up.

You shake your head.

Oh the things you do for family.