#Every time you get too close I run I run away

[sparklingblu]

Infinite Impossibilities: A Pervert's Dream Journal

Day 2: Eunbi

Dinner is the last thing on your mind.

You sit at the table, opposite your girlfriend Jae-eun, as her mom Eunbi bustles around the kitchen. The savory aroma of various dishes fill the air, but you barely notice, too distracted by the tantalizing view of Eunbi’s huge tits threatening to spill out of her low-cut blouse with each movement.

Fuck, how was her husband able to keep his hands off her? You wouldn’t know cuz the guy has already passed away. Nonetheless, you could barely tear your eyes away from the way her massive rack jiggles and bounces, straining against the thin fabric. She must have had some serious work done to look this good.

Eunbi catches you staring and smirks knowingly, batting her long lashes at you. She leans forward slightly, giving you an even better view down her cleavage as she sets down the plates of food.

“Careful now, you might burn yourself looking at my tits,” she whispers, so that only you would hear. “I wouldn’t want to distract you from your meal.”

You swallow, feeling your cock growing rigid as you imagine burying your face between those pillowy mounds. Jae-eun shoots you a puzzled look and you quickly avert your gaze, trying to compose yourself.

“It’s nothing, just kinda spaced out,” you mumble, picking up your chopsticks. But Eunbi isn’t done teasing you yet. Throughout the meal, she keeps making little comments and expressions designed to get a rise out of you.

She licks her plump lips after each bite, sucking the ends of her chopsticks seductively. “Mmm, so good,” she moans in the filthiest sound. “I just love when the food is seasoned perfectly, don’t you agree?”

You nod mutedly, your erection growing painfully hard as you watch a drop of sauce trickled from her chin down her cleavage. Your girlfriend frowns, noticing your distraction.

“Is something wrong, baby? You seem a little….flustered,” she said, narrowing her eyes at you suspiciously. Before you could respond, Eunbi speaks up.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” she says with a dismissive wave. “Boys his age gets distracted easily. But he’s a good listener, aren’t he? Always paying close attention to my words.”

She accompanies this with a meaningful look, one eyebrow arched as she runs her fingers along the neckline of her blouse. You mouth goes dry and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, praying that Jae-eun wouldn’t notice the massive bulge tenting your jeans.

The rest of the meal is a fever dream, with Eunbi finding every single chance she can to flaunt her tits and Jae-eun growing more and more annoyed by your lack of attention. By the time dessert is served, you are practically throbbing with need, imagining all the filthy things you want to do to Eunbi.

But with great unease, you manage to keep a lid on your lust, pushing away your empty and bowl and forcing a smile. “That was delicious, thank you Mrs. Kwon. But I should probably be going now, it’s getting late.”

Eunbi pouts. “But you can’t leave yet, we haven’t had our after-dinner shots! Stay and have a drink with us.”

Jae-eun glares daggers at you. “Yeah, stay for one drink,” she says through gritted teeth. “Or else.”

You hesitate for a moment, torn between your desire to flee and the dangerous allure of Eunbi’s advances. But her pout is too tempting to resist. “Alright, one drink won’t hurt,” you relent.

Eunbi claps her hands and lead you to the living room, where she’s already set out a tray of shot glasses and a bottle of soju. Jae-eun trails behind, arms crossed and lips pursed.

As Eunbi pours the shots, Jae-eun collapses dramatically onto the couch. “Ugh, I’m so full. I think I need to lie down for a minute,” she says, yawning.

Eunbi frowns in concern. “Are you alright, dear? Maybe you should have some water before you drink.”

Jae-eun waves off dismissively. “I’m fine, mom. I’ll just close my eyes for a sec.” She turns away from you, huddling into a ball on the couch.

Eunbi sighs and hands you a shot glass. “I don’t know what’s gotten into that girl lately.”

You raise your glass to hers in a toast. “Cheers,” you say, trying to distract her. The soju burns going down but warms you from the inside.

Eunbi throws back her shot and sets down the glass with a satisfied sigh. She refills it and tops off yours as well.

“You know,” she says, giving you a saucy wink. “You might think I didn’t notice but you seem really interested in my tits.”

Your face heats and you stammer. “I-I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Kwon. You’re just being a good host is all.”

Eunbi chuckles and unbuttons her blouse slowly, revealing her lacy white bra straining against her huge, heavy milkers. “I think we both know that’s not true, baby. But don’t worry. Mommy Eunbi is going to take care of you.”

She pats her lap invitingly. “Come lie on my lap and let Mommy make you feel better.”

Your cock twitch in your pants as you obey her command. Eunbi wraps her arms around you, pulling you close so your face is level with her cleavage.

“Mmm, aren’t you a sweet boy,” she coos, petting your hair. “Mommy Eunbi is going to make you feel so good.”

With one hand, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, letting her massive tits bounce free. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Go on, baby. Suck on Mommy’s tits,” she urges, guiding your face into her soft pillowy flesh.

You moan as you take one of her nipples into your mouth, sucking greedily. Eunbi sighs in pleasure, cupping your head and pushing you harder against her.

Meanwhile, her other hand snakes into your lap and palms your hard cock through your pants. You buck into her touch with a muffled groan.

“Ooh, what do we have here?” she purrs, rubbing you faster. “Is this for me, baby? Is this big cock hard for Mommy?”

She unzips your fly and pulls out your throbbing erection, stroking it firmly from base to tip. You suck harder on her nipple, hips thrusting into her grip.

“That’s it, baby. Suck on Mommy’s tits while she jerks this nice hard dick,” Eunbi breathes. “Worship Mommy’s tits like they deserve.”

And you do just that, lapping at the stiff peaks, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, sharp sucks. Eunbi groans, fingers tangling in your hair.

“Mmm, yes! You love Mommy’s fat titties, don’t you? I bet you are rock hard for me.”

To demonstrate her point, she wraps her hand around your throbbing erection, giving it a firm squeeze. You moan against her breasts, hips bucking into her touch.

“That’s right, baby. Pay attention to Mommy’s tits,” Eunbi pants, pumping her fist along your shaft. “Show me how much you want it.”

You switch to the other nipple, sucking hard before grazing hard with your teeth. Eunbi gasps, squeezing your cock tighter. “Ooh, naughty boy! Mommy likes it a little rough.”

Emboldened by her reaction, you bite down harder, soothing the sting with a long lap of your tongue. Eunbi cries out, stroking you faster.

“Fuck, just like that!”

You switch back and forth between her tits, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive peaks. Your cock throb in her grip, leaking pre-cum to ease the way.

Eunbi continues working her hand up and down your length, twisting her wrist as she reaches the tip. “Mmm, you are so fucking hard. This big cock is aching to explode, isn’t it?” she purrs, squeezing the head and spreading arousal over the smooth skin. “I can feel it twitching in my hand. You are going to make such a good mess, baby.”

Eunbi pumps you faster, pre-cum leaking from the tip and smearing on her fingers. You groan around her nipple, lost in the dual sensation of your mouth on her tits and her hand on your dick.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grunt, feeling your balls tighten. “I’m gonna cum all over you.”

“Yes, baby, yes!” Eunbi cries. “Cum for Mommy! Make a big mess!”

With a fee more quick strokes, you explode, shooting thick ropes of cum all over her hands and wrist. Eunbi milks you through it, coaxing out every last drop.

“Mmm, look at this mess you’ve made,” she purrs, bringing her sticky fingers to her mouth. “Monmy’s going to have to clean up.”

She licks your cum off her fingers with relish, eyes locked on yours. “You taste so good, baby. I think Mommy needs more.”

You sit up as Eunbi sinks to her knees between your legs, taking your spent cock into her mouth and sucking it gently. You groan at the sensation, already feeling yourself harden again.

Jae-eun snores softly on the couch, blissfully unaware of what her mother is doing to her boyfriend. Eunbi looks up at you with a wicked grin as she releases your cock from her mouth with a pop.

“You are not tired yet, are you?” she asks, standing up. “Cuz I’ve still got some things I wanna try out.”

You shake your head. There’s no way you are giving up on more taste of that juicy body of hers.

“Good,” she muses before turning around and bending over the dining table, hitching up her dress to expose her round supple ass.

“Come and get it, baby” she purrs, wiggling her hips invitingly. “Mommy needs this big cock inside her.”

You marvel at the sight, grabbing her ass cheeks and kneading the firm flesh. Then, unable to resist, you bring your hand down on her ass with a resounding smack.

“Oh!” Eunbi gasps, arching her back. “Yes, spank Mommy! Punish this naughty ass.”

You slap again, watching her pale skin flush pink under your palm. Her pussy glistens, slick and ready for you. You can’t wait any longer.

Gripping her hips, you rub the head of your cock along her slit, teasing her with shallow thrusts. Eunbi moans, pushing back against you.

“Stop teasing, baby, and give it to me,” she demands breathlessly. “I need this dick inside me. Now.”

With a growl, you slam into her, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, wet heat. Eunbi cries out in pleasure, hands scrabbling at the tablecloth.

“Fuck, yes! Just like that!” she pants, meeting your thrusts. “Pound Mommy’s pussy with that big cock!”

You set a brutal pace, hips slapping against her ass as you rail her from behind. The obscene sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with your heavy grunts and Eunbi’s wanton moans.

“Fuck me harder, baby!” she shrieks, pushing back against you. “I want to feel this dick splitting me open!”

Your balls slap against her clit with every powerful thrust, driving her wild. She fists her hands in the tablecloth, knuckles white as she braces against your frenzied fucking.

“Ooh, Mommy’s pussy feels so good around this thick cock,” Eunbi babbles, lost in the pleasure. “Stretch me out, baby! Fucking wreck me!”

You reach down and fist her hair, yanking her head back as you slam into her. Eunbi howls, pussy clenching around you like a vice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!” she chants, meeting your punishing thrusts. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop!”

The table shakes with the force of your coupling, glasswares rattling in warning. But neither of you care, too consumed by the brutal, beautiful fucking.

You reach forward with your other hand, squeezing her pillowy mound and pinching her nipple hard, sending jolts of pain-pleasure straight to her core.

“Oh!” Eunbi gasps. “Fuck, yes! Twist Mommy’s fat tits while you pound this pussy!”

“Fucking whore,” you mutter, tugging on her stiff peak as you continue your relentless assault on her cunt. “You act like a good mother but you are just a slut, aren’t you? A big titty slut who fucks her daughter’s boyfriend.”

“That’s right, I’m just a big titty slut for my daughter’s boyfriend,” Eunbi repeats, pushing her chest out. “I love getting fucked by this big dick!”

You growl in approval, slamming into her harder, deeper. “You’re nothing but a cock hungry whore, aren’t you? A set of tits and a tight cunt for me to use.”

“Fuck yes, that’s all I am!” Eunbi cries, shaking her ass back at you. “I’m just a pair of big tits for you to fuck and cum on! Use me, baby! Use Mommy’s slutty body! Make her cum”

It only takes a few more thrusts to make Eunbi creams on your cock, her thighs trembling as she lets out a guttural moan. If it isn’t for your hands gripping her waist, she would have collapsed right on the spot. Her pussy clenches tight as she comes down from her high and you can feel your balls tightening again, the familiar tingling building up from the base of your cock. You’re close, so close.

“I’m going to cum all over these big tits,” you pant, still fucking her through her orgasm. “Mark your slutty rack as my property.”

“Please do it!” Eunbi begs, writhing on your cock. “Paint my tits with your seed! Coat Mommy in your cum!”

With a final deep thrust, you pull out and stroke yourself frantically. Eunbi turns around and kneels, pushing up her huge breasts and lolling out her tongue.

“Cum for me baby,” she purrs. “Cum all over Mommy’s big titties. Make me your dirty cumslut.”

Your cock explodes, spluttering thick ropes of cum splattering across her face and chest. Eunbi moans in delight, scooping the warm spend into her mouth and licking it off her fingers.

“Mmm, so delicious,” she purrs, grinning up at you with a lewd satisfied smile on her cum-splattered face. “You make Mommy so full, baby”

She stands up, letting her dress fall back into place. But it's a futile gesture, the front is still stained with evidence of your passion.

"I think I'll go clean up," she says with a wink. "But don't think for a second that we are done, baby. Mommy Eunbi has so many more naughty things that she wants to do with you.

With that, she saunters off towards the bathroom, an extra sway in her hips. You watch her go, your cock already hardening again at the thought of what depraved acts this insatisable woman has planned next.

Jae-eun is still asleep on the couch without a hint of the things unfolding right besid her. Hopefully, she stays that way.

A few minutes later, Eunbi returns freshly showered and radiant. The towel wrapped around her curves does little to hide her lush body, and you feel yor cock twitch eagerly in response.

Eunbi eyes your hardening cock with a smirk. "Mmm, I see you are already up and ready," she purrs, sauntering closer. "You can't just get enough of Mommy, can you?"

You grab her towel and yank it off, exposing her naked glory to your gaze. "Fuck, yes. I am," you answer, grabbing her tits roughly and squeezing the soft flesh. "I want to taste every inch of your sexy body."

"Patience, baby. Let's head to my bedroom." She grabs your wrist and lead you out of the living room. You follow like a paralyzed prey, eyes fixed on her swaying ass.

She pushes open the bedroom door softly and enters. The room isn't spacious, occupied by a few furniture and a bed. But that's all you need for now.

"Come on, baby. Don't keep me waiting."

Eunbi gets on the bed, splaying herself out wantonly before you. You take a moment to admire the sight - her huge tits heaving with each breath, pussy glistening with arousal, eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you look so good," you groan, gripping your rock hard shaft. "I would have dated you instead if I have known you sooner."

Staring at her ankles, you trail hungry kisses up her legs, licking and nibbling every inch of creamy skin. Eunbi shivers and moans, threading her fingers through your hair.

"Mmm, yes, baby. Taste my body. I know you want it."

You continue your assault, sucking on her inner thighs and laving her dripping slit with long, slow licks. She tastes divine - sweet and musky and completely addictive. You could spend hours with your face buried in her cunt.

"Oh, fuck! Your tongue feels so good!" Eunbi cries out, grinding her pussy against your mouth. "Suck on my clit just like that! Make Mommy fucking cum all over your face!"

You do as commanded, sealing your lips around her swollen nub and flicking it rapidly with your tongue. Your fingers pump in and out of her channel, curling to hit that sensitive spit deep inside.

Eunbi's moans grow louder and more desperate as you rbing her closer to the edge. Her hips buck wildly, fucking your face with abandon.

"That'a it, baby! Don't stop!" She screams. "I'm gonna cum! Ahhh fuckkk!"

Her thighs clamp around your head as she comes hard, gushing fluid all over your face. You keep lapping at her through it, drawing out her pleasure as long as possible.

When she finally collapses onto the bed, panting heavily, you crawl up her body and capture her mouth in a searing kiss. She moans into it, tasting herself on your tongue.

"Mmm, you are being such a good boy for Mommy," she purrs when you break the kiss. "And good boys get rewards."

She reaches down and wraps her hand around your throbbing cock, giving it a firm stroke. "I want this big cock sliding between my tits. I want to feel it pulsing and throbbing."

You smirk. "Fuck yes. Let's give your tits a pounding they deserve."

You move up her body until your cock is nestled between the deep valley of her breasts. Eunbi squeezes them together, trapping your shaft in silky softness.

"Fuck baby, your cock is so hard and hot," she groans, starting to slide them up and down. "It feels amazing between my tits."

You groan at the exquisite sensation, thrusting into her cleavage eagerly. "That's it, use those big titties on me," you growl. "Show me what a naughty titty slut you are."

Eunbi arches her back, pushing her chest out further as you pump her faster. Her nipples are stiff peaks, hard and taut. You capture them between your fingers, pinching and pulling.

"Ahhh fuckkk yesss!" Eunbi cries out, the channel of her tits getting tighter with each assault on her nipples. "Play with my tits, baby!"

You increase your pace, fucking her tits hard and fast as Eunbi mutters obscenities as you toy with her nipples. Her expression is one of pure lust - eyes clouded and hazy as she gives you free rein of her milkers.

You push a thumb in her mouth and she sucks on it eagerly, lapping it with her tongue the same way she would do to a cock. Your other hand clench around her neck, keeping your grip just tight enough to feed into her kink.

"Fucking cock hungry big titty slut," you curses as you pound her tits, admiring the look of pain and pleasure on Eunbi's face. She's still sucking in youe thumb like crazy, eyes rolled back from the lack of air.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you groan. "I'm gonna cum on your tits, you fucking slut."

Eunbi can't answer, your grip on her throat too tight to form coherent words. But you already know the answer. This slut loves nothing more than a hot thick load.

"Fuck"

With one last thrust, you unravel - shootiing spurt after spurt of cum between her tits. Most land on her cleavage, the rest finding their way onto her face, her hair, her neck.

Eunbi grins triumphantly, smearing your release across her tits. "Mmm, so much cum for me," she purrs. "Seems like my daughter made the right choice."

You don't get the chance to savour the compliment, because you are interrupted.

"What the fuck, mom?"

You freeze in your place. You and Eunbi were too horny that you have forgotten to close the bedroom door. And now, Jae-eun stands at the entrance, staring at you with horror and shock. You try to master up an excuse but there's none. Not when you have your cock between your grilfriend's mother's tits.

"Oh.....shit."

-

[vicorices]

hey… so like yk that trend where bridesmaids would bring the groom spicy polroid photos of the bridd.. can you write something a little like that but its reader nd sevik’s wedding (smut pls if u didnt know alrdy)😻🎀

₊˚⊹♡ dive in.

a/n — ugghhhhh i totally see this, sorry for taking so long non x // request open + masterlist.

18+ mdni, public sex, use of strap-on (it’s refered as cock/dick too) strap sucking, use of pet names.

to be fair, sevika did want to marry, the thing was organizing a wedding.

you've been running non-stop the last months so she gets you're burnt out. your fianceé can be many things, but her patience it's a golden treat even when she don't have time to properly fuck you lately, she knows you'll be back to your own self after the celebration, and sevika’s not afraid of having to put up with your grumpy side any time of the day.

she can handle you, simple as a summer day. what she cannot handle instead, was that backstabbing shit you were pulling on her after being so well behaved, playing the part of an understanding wife until one of your friends give her the first photo and she has to look at it twice to be sure she's looking at it right, cause there's no way you're standing in a tiny polaroid picture wearing a purple set of underwear, comfortably laying around in bed — a bed you share with her every night.

it sends her into a spiral. the music is loud in a room full of celebrating guests and still, her mouth is suddenly dry and she feels like it has been a fucking year now without having sex, so dramatic as she's searching for you even when you're already looking at her, raising your champagne glass in a silent toast with a playful smirk.

and she thinks you'll have the decency to be kind to her after all, but your friends kept the photos coming, and each one seemed to be more obscene than the last one as she looked at them a couple of times afraid someone else could see it before tucking it away in the safety of her suit. at first a casual set of purple lingerie that scaled insanely quick to a very close frontal shot of your full lips slightly parted, and sevika can recognize your hands squeezing your tits together for the picture, you fucking tease — the third picture steals the air from her lungs at the sight of you already on your knees, looking up to the camera with nothing on top.

did your friends see them too? do they know how low they are helping you play? you're making her put up a show ‘cause you're laughing at her face, her erratic movements, how she forgot to keep on talking to the guests, show some manners from a zaunite already in the council, but shit she's so weak. you've deprived her for what? a month or two? can you really expect her to behave and not to act up stupid? you're wearing this beautiful white gown and sevika cannot help but wonder, truly wonder, by the look in your face, what are you wearing down all that expensive fabric.

low.

you're looking at her while you talk to your close ones and sevika fights the need to drag you away from everyone as the photos kept appearing randomly, hitting her in the worst moments, cause she thinks she got it figured it out, that she finally collected herself as the minutes pass until another friend appears with a sinful picture and she thinks to herself, she's going to have a word or two with you about that teasing game she didn't agree to be a part on.

how can she be mad at you anyway? when you're so good at taking those photos for her? when you look so beautiful making your underwear to the side to have a look of your soaked pussy you so eagerly show to the camera lens? you're biting down your lip cause you really are enjoying it, showing that nasty side you cannot hide and she just loves to have every single time.

her devotion to you knows no barrier at that point, cause people are laughing loudly, singing and dancing under the changing lights and the bands playing in the background, yet sevika's blatantly stealing you from the rest and there's no point in saying no when she's pulling you to the tiny photobooth you thought it'd be cute to take up pictures for the guests and have a little token of your union to your wife to take home, closing down the red curtain to corner you against the camera wall.

"did you like the photos?" you have the audacity to ask with a smile on your lips — "it's a reward for being so good to me all this time."

"is this your idea of reward, doll?" sevika cannot hide the smirk on her face, not when she’s actually enjoying all the talking for once. "haunt me the whole night until i can finally get you alone?"

"it's fun" you try to defend yourself, but you already lost the whole case as her big hands fall against your figure, tracing your sides as she mocks your words: you have different views of fun clearly. "i was going to make it up to you later, vika. the two of us."

"make up to me you say," she chuckles, almost not believing you "well take care of me now then. i deserve it."

she does it really, so you let her push you around, use force to pin you down against the wall as she takes what she's been anxiously craving, cursing against the complex fabric of your wedding dress until she's able to grip it in one hand, noticing the same purple set she saw before in the pictures.

"fucking slut doin' this on purpose" sevika shakes her head in disbelief as she takes a look of your body in the colorful lingerie "and you were going to be cruel and make me fucking wait to have you? on our own wedding day?"

"vika-"

“you took the photos, fuckin´ deal with it.”

“what if someone comes in?”

“i’ll tell them to fuck off,” she promises quickly like she thought about it all already “it’s our day, our wedding.”

there’s something about the way she’s saying it that makes you oblivious to the rest, makes your head spin cause you forgot about your worrying, the guests, the cake and everything in between. so you're not aware of when you pushed the red button on the screen of the photobooth, nor when it activates it's original purpose when sevika's fully into making out with you, capturing the sight of your figures blending together in the same picture — by the second shot you can notice the smirk on her brown lips and in the third, it's not really visible as she seems to be too close to the camera lens, making the image blurry as she attacks on your neck.

maybe it's the thrill of being discovered, the fact sevika can feel the flash of the photos being taken, but she wishes to be patient again — have it in at least a couple of hours on her actual wedding night for a chance, privately, but the strap she choose willingly to wear in a way of fully teasing you, was now pushing against your leg and you have to stop for a second with your brows furrowed.

"is that-" sevika's nodding and you want to say something, but you find amusing to know your wife is wearing a strap-on to your wedding celebration, one you surely have seen already.

"make up to me," she repeats once again, serious this time "for being cruel."

no one interrupts anyway. the music's too loud, the sweat in the air is too strong and guests already drank a lot so no one gives a shit when you're getting on your knees, when sevika's toying with your hair as you're the one to unbuckle the belt from her pants, the one who kisses the happy trail of her lower belly without protesting, noticing the blue silicone as her pant pools in her ankles and your wife cannot seem to care about anything but the sight of you on your knees.

"get it wet" sevika's less gentle now as she's pointing to her fake cock, licking her lips like she can taste yours in them before adding: "so i can fuck you good, okay?"

to be fair — it's just an excuse, cause she knows you're dripping in your pretty purple panties, that the dildo would split you open yes, stretch you out even without making much effort, but she just wants to see how you do it, how you become a drooling mess, salivating all over the floor, getting your dress wet totally unaware of everything else.

and hell she wishes she could feel it all, cause you look so pretty with your mouth full it's insane, pushing against the rubber to take it in your throat further until you make yourself gag, and your wife takes care of you, so she's pulling away but in all honestly the sight of you debauched already only spurs her on 'cause the amount of saliva coating your lips connecting you to her dick makes her insane, cleaning the corners of your mouth with her thumb.

"easy there, get used to it and take it slow," her voice is rough as she helps you put your hair up in a ponytail vika holds in her mechanic fingers, watching your polished moves as you get to work again, relaxing until the tip of your nose is touching her skin, and your eyes are watering but she can feel your breathing on her, the friction between her legs every time you move to take her deeper, the fabric of the harness consistently rubbing between her legs — "there you go bunny. s'good taking it all, go on keep sucking and don't get distracted."

you want to do good, desperate to please her over and over again, you can take it. that's what she says as her hips involuntarily thrust against your mouth, and it's so slippery the rubber cock slides inside your bucal cavity and she's roughly hitting on the back of your throat until there's this sound you make involuntarily each time the strap invades your mouth and makes you choke, leaving you a mess as you're drooling all over your tits.

her flesh hand does a good job on making you move, fingers tightening in your hair as she sets an steady pace against your mouth, swollen lips that close around the shaft as she pushes it deeper, cleaning up your tears cause she don't want your make up to be ruined, all pretty trying hard for her.

she's going to cum like this, inevitable. you're looking up to her with your big eyes, a damn smirk cause even when you're struggling you're having so much fun you cannot help it, and once again she's needy for more than what she'd like to admit.

the movement of her hips rubs her right in the spot when sevika's already so sensitive soaking her inner thighs, forcing her cock in your mouth — it's so good, you're so damn good.

so she cums around nothing, your sloppy movements as you suck on her strap, that zoned out look you have that only makes her moan hastily, leaning against the photobooth to press that fucking button again that's been randomly taking pictures now capturing the features of your wife as you now disappear from the frame, the pleasure on sevika's face she's unaware before pulling you upwards again, making you stand as she parts your legs with her knee forcing you to turn around to have a good view of your ass.

"my good little cocksleeve, always ready to be stuffed," she praises, leaving wet kisses on the expanse of your shoulders, going down your spine as she don't bother to take your panties off, no, she wants to fully fuck you in them "spread yourself open, help me sink in you."

your hands come up to grip on your asscheeks, pulling them aside to help your wife reach deeper, use you better by all means. the tip of the cold silicone wet with your own saliva kisses your entrance, and you melt away when sevika's finally fucking you until the base of her cock disappears inside your warm cunt, holding you still even in a secluded space.

she's shoving her fingers in your mouth, making you suck on her digits with a hungry look: lame, she's gonna cum again and she's acting up so fucking lame.

"fucking take it," the damn camera flashes again and sevika has lost count of how many pictures are waiting outside the booth of you two, but she's too busy to say something when she's sinking inside your drenched pussy, pulling on your hair as she grips on the curve of your hip, making you move with her as her movements get rougher, each time more demanding, deeper — "that's it. make space for me, it's not that hard, isn't it?"

she's on a sinking ship either way: slow is now overrated and she would rather dive in headfirst to openly drown in you.

was that so bad? i mean, you're married to her now.

[hsnlv]

🧸ྀི - jaeyun and his (cute) jealousy issues?

pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader • pls mind the fact that this is an actual (almost) teeth-rotting fluff!

a/n: im actually tooo lazy to make a proper layout for this one but enjoy it regardless! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 🎀here’s my masterlist!🎀

—

you honestly have no idea what is going on with your husband lately.

jake’s usually the most easygoing, playful person you know — the kind of guy who laughs at his own jokes and kisses you on the forehead whenever he walks past. but lately? he’s been a walking storm cloud, and you’re starting to feel like you’re married to a grumpy old man instead of the golden retriever boy you fell in love with.

it started small — sighs when you took a little longer getting the baby to sleep, huffs when you missed dinner because the baby needed you. then it got worse. now, he snaps over everything.

tonight is no different.

“it’s just laundry, jake,” you sigh, leaning against the armrest of the couch as he paces like he’s on a mission to wear a hole in the carpet.

“just laundry?” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “the whole load smells like mildew now! that’s like… five shirts! gone!”

“you have fifty more in the closet,” you deadpan.

he opens his mouth to argue, then closes it with a glare.

you watch him, eyes narrowing. this isn’t about laundry. you’re sure of it. he’s been like this for weeks — tense, restless, snappy over the tiniest things. and every time you ask, he just mumbles “i’m fine” and stomps off like a teenager grounded from his xbox.

you’re tired of it.

“jake,” you say carefully, sitting up straighter. “can you please tell me what’s going on with you? you’ve been weird for days.”

“i’m not weird.”

“you’re literally brooding.”

“i’m not brooding.”

“you’re pacing dramatically and sighing like you’re in a sad music video.”

“i’m not—” he stops mid-step, glaring at you again. “i’m not brooding.”

you stare him down, crossing your arms.

“jaeyun.”

his jaw clenches.

“it’s nothing,” he mutters, turning away.

“jake,” you try again, voice softer now. “i’m your wife. talk to me.”

he doesn’t respond.

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. okay. plan b it is.

“if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you say slowly, “i’m going to assume it’s something ridiculous.”

he snorts. “yeah, sure.”

“like… you’re mad because i finished the last of the cereal.”

“what? no.”

“or because i didn’t let you buy that life-sized iron man figure last week.”

“hey, that would’ve been cool.”

“or,” you pause dramatically, “you’re jealous of the baby.”

silence.

jake freezes.

your eyes widen.

oh. my. god.

“…you’re jealous of the baby?” you whisper, half in shock, half on the verge of laughing.

“no,” he says quickly — too quickly.

you gasp. “you are!”

“i’m not jealous of our kid!” he protests, turning red.

you stand up slowly, like you’re piecing together the biggest mystery of the century.

“oh my god. that’s why you’re acting like this? because i pamper her too much?”

he groans, dragging his hands down his face.

“it’s not — i didn’t mean —” he stumbles over his words, looking mortified.

you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of you.

“jake,” you giggle, stepping closer to him. “are you seriously mad because i give the baby more attention than you?”

he groans louder, tipping his head back like he’s praying for the earth to swallow him whole.

“you do, though!” he finally bursts out, voice high-pitched and frustrated. “you kiss her all the time! you hold her, cuddle her, play with her — and i’m just… here! i get, like, one kiss a day now, and even that’s a forehead kiss while you’re half asleep!”

he’s full-on pouting now, looking like a kicked puppy.

you bite your lip, trying so hard not to laugh again.

“jaeyun,” you whisper, stepping closer to cup his cheeks. his face is warm under your hands. “are you seriously telling me you’re jealous of our three-month-old daughter?”

“i’m not jealous,” he grumbles, but his voice cracks. “i just… miss you. i miss when you looked at me the way you look at her. i miss cuddling without a baby monitor going off. i miss being the one you kiss all the time.”

your heart squeezes so hard it almost hurts.

you stare at him, his brows furrowed, lips downturned in the saddest little frown — and you realize he’s not even mad. he’s just hurt.

“oh, jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice softening. you pull him into a hug, feeling him melt into you instantly.

“i love you,” you murmur into his shoulder, holding him tight. “so much. you’re not in second place. you’re my first everything — first love, first choice, first home. you’re my person. and yeah, i’m obsessed with our baby, but that doesn’t mean i stopped being obsessed with you.”

he doesn’t say anything for a second — just squeezes you tighter, his face buried in your neck.

“i’m still mad about the laundry,” he mumbles.

you snort.

“you’ll live.”

he laughs, finally, and the sound is so warm and familiar that it makes your heart swell.

and from that moment on, jake doesn’t even try to hide how clingy he is.

he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, wrapping his arms around your waist whenever you’re cooking or cleaning. if you’re sitting down, he’s immediately in your lap — or pulling you into his. he whines when you get up, pouts when you leave the room, and steals every possible kiss he can.

“jaeyun, i have to go check on the baby,” you giggle as he tugs you back onto the couch for the third time that afternoon.

“she’s sleeping,” he huffs, nuzzling into your neck. “she gets you all day. i get you now.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“yeah, but you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

he gasps dramatically. “take that back!”

“make me.”

he tackles you onto the couch, smothering you with kisses until you’re both breathless with laughter.

and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

©️ all rights reserved | hsnlv | 2025

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+.MDNI. Part Ⅱ.

It's been 2 weeks, since step 1 of your body exploration project, Bakugou still refuses to call it that, instead insisting it's just horny hormones possessing you both, despite it, all he can think about is you, your pliant body, laying on the floor as he explored your chest.

He couldn't get the image of you out of his head, late night thoughts spent on wondering what you looked like underneath all the clothing, he understood your curiosity now.

"When are you free this week?" He spoke, breaking the silence in your office, you quirk your eyebrow at him, silently asking him for an explanation.

"I am not free till Saturday," You rummage through your drawers, "but I do have 2 days off after that," you pull out a crumbled paper, which had your schedule for the month. "Why though?"

He let's out a deep breath, wondering if he should ask you about the arrangement you both had, on one hand he didn't want to come across as some kind of degenerate looking for nearest and quick fuck and on the other hand, he rubbed his cock raw with your face in his mind.

You watch him closely, his face getting more constipated with each second. "When are we gonna continue that?" He blurts eventually, facing heating up as you continue to stare at him in confusion.

"Continue what?"

He groans, hands coming to rub his temple, he contemplated running away in that moment, at least he knows you still haven't figured out what he is asking for, he takes his chance, "You know, showing each other..." His voice quietens towards the end of his sentence, although you instantly understand what he was asking, you still tilt your head in faux confusion, furrowing your eyebrows to emphasize your non existent dilemma.

"Ugh!" He grunts, "I want to see your cunt!" He almost yelled, instantly cringing and wondering if someone outside the office may have heard him.

You press your lips towards, trying and failing to stifle a laugh, the giggle escapes, "Jeez, Suki, way to be subtle." You tease him a little, enjoying his flustered appearance.

"Don't," he sucks in a deep breath, "don't fucking bring it up."

"I am free tonight." You put him out of his misery, showing him the light at the end of a dark tunnel and eventually your pussy.

His nods his head, not meeting your eyes, "I'll pick you up at 7." Before he brisks out the office.

-----

It's almost 9 pm when you get done with dinner, something bakugou insisted he cooks for you before you both perform step 2 of body exploration project, it warmed your heart a little, warmed your pussy alot.

Despite all the teasing you put him through while he cooked, you were the one dripping, excited to finally see him.

He snarls, face scrunched up as he examines you sitting criss crossed on him bed, face supported by your hands as you waited for him to strip, "Why the fuck do I strip down while you stay clothed?" He argued, arms crossed.

You scoff, leaning back on your elbows, "If I remember correctly," you cock your head slightly, "I took my shirt off last time, so fairly you should be next," you wave around your hand, gesturing towards him legs, "so pants off, peaches."

He gets your point, but that doesn't really help his situation, he slowly strips off his pants then his underwear, he was hard, had been hard for weeks now, the vivid images of you, making his cock drool with precum.

He watches your reaction, the widening of your eyes, how they locked on his dick making it twitch, the slight parting of your lips, he hopes it's good enough for you, "Done oogling?" He snarls, trying to hide his nervousness, "whore." He spits out, it's harmless, not even an insult you know it too.

"For you, always." You wink at him cheekily, teasing smile painted in your face, as you crawl over to the end of the bed, coming in to take a closer look. "Do you mind sitting down, I kinda wanna see it from all angles."

"Ehh! The fuck do you mean see from all angles." He groans, every second with your eyes on him, pushing him closer to shooting his load, he is scared that he'll end up spraying without touching his cock.

"Wanna observe it Suki," You looked up at him from where you kneeled on the bed, "Can I touch you?" You ask, mouth watering at the sight of him, he sure did clean shave everything, he nods his head in response, too shocked to say anything else, "Words Suki, say it out load." You mean it as consent, he follows it like a command.

"Yes, fucking touch me," he groans when your hands instantly come to hold his waist, swaying slightly as you get close enough, that he feels your breath on his skin.

"It's really pretty, Suki" You examine him, dainty fingers coming to wrap around the base of his cock, he stutters, hips bucking forward unconsciously, you hear him mumble out an apology, his hand pressed up against his mouth, to stop the moans from leaking out.

It however can't stop the leaking of his cock, precum oozes out, it's thick, you could mistake it for come, "Is it always this wet?" You queried, thumbing at his slit, pinching your fingers together, his pre stringing.

"Shut. Up." He whined, before thick cum shoots out if his cock, you are fast enough to not let it get in your eye, but not fast enough to stop it from landing on your lips and lower.

Everything stills for a moment, you stare ahead, at his cock, your hand still wrapped around his base as he continues to twitch. He can't meet your eyes anymore. He thinks it's all over, that you'll realise what a loser he is, what he doesn't expect is for you to lick away at you thumb, fingers moving to collect more cum as you clean away all of it.

You catch is expression, "What?" You pout, "It's part of the exploration," you clean the remaining strings with your t-shirt before pulling it over your head and tossing it to the side.

He stood still, processing what just happened, he dick still twitching as he finally moved to kneel between your legs, hands slowly coming to rest on your thighs.

"Excited to see my pussy, Suki?" You voice is low, mind hazy with his fingers so close to your cunt, you lift your legs, pulling off your short, plain white panties coming into the view something you chose for the night.

"It's so fucking wet." His hand moved to the back of your thighs, lifting them slightly, as he stared at the almost see through spot.

"It's cause of you." Your speech is little slurred, words coming out slow as your brain tried to imagine what he would feel like against your hard little clit.

"I better fix it then."

Oh, how the tables were suddenly turned.

Divider by @/diviniyae

[rafedarling]

hiii, saw your requests were open and wanted to ask if you could write something for dad!drew where his daughter is basically in like a revel teenager phase? she has a boyfriend which is not the best influence and it's just kind of mean to her parents so drew has to scold her but then one day she comes back from school being all sad because her boyfriend broke up with her, so he also conforts her with the break up. thanksss

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

pairing: husband!drew starkey x wife!reader

summary: your teenage daughter, ellie, is deep in her rebellious phase complete with a questionable boyfriend and a sharp tongue toward you and drew. tensions rise as drew steps in to set boundaries, but when ellie’s world crumbles after a breakup, he’s there to pick up the pieces, reminding her what family’s really about.

warning(s): english is not my native language. mild language, emotional themes (parent-teen conflict, breakup sadness), light mentions of a toxic relationship dynamic.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @issabellec7 @alexxavicry

You lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Drew pace back and forth in front of the fridge. His jaw’s tight, and you can tell he’s trying to keep it together. Ellie’s upstairs, door slammed shut like it’s been every night this week, and the air in the house feels thick with unspoken words.

“She’s sixteen, Drew,” you say, voice soft but firm.

“She’s testing us. It’s normal.”

He stops pacing, running a hand through his hair is still a little messy from filming earlier.

“Normal? You heard how she talked to you at dinner. ‘Whatever, Mom, you don’t get it.’ Like you’re the enemy here.”

He shakes his head, exhaling hard.

“And that kid she’s dating? Ethan? I don’t trust him. She’s sneaking out, coming home late, and I swear she smells like smoke half the time.”

You bite your lip, because he’s right.

Ellie’s been a hurricane lately, snapping at you over little things, rolling her eyes at Drew’s attempts to joke with her, and clinging to her phone like it’s a lifeline to that boyfriend of hers. Ethan’s a lanky kid with a smirk you don’t like, always hovering too close when he drops her off. You’ve seen the way he talks over her, the way she shrinks a little around him, and it twists something in your chest.

“I’ll talk to her,”

Drew says finally, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

“She’s gotta hear it from me this time.”

You nod, even though you’re not sure how it’ll go. Drew’s always been the softer one with Ellie, movie nights, piggyback rides when she was little, teaching her to surf last summer.

But lately, she’s been pushing him away, too, and you know it’s eating at him.

The next night, it comes to a head. You’re folding laundry in the living room when you hear the front door creak open way past curfew. Ellie’s boots scuff against the hardwood, and Drew’s already on his feet, meeting her in the hallway.

“Ellie, where’ve you been?”

His voice is calm but edged with something harder. You peek around the corner, catching sight of her, her hair messy, mascara smudged, that oversized jacket Ethan gave her hanging off her shoulders.

“With friends,” she mutters, not meeting his eyes.

“God, why do you always have to make a big deal out of everything?”

“Because it’s midnight, and you didn’t text us,” Drew says, stepping closer.

“You know the rules. And don’t act like this is nothing, your mom and I have been worried sick.”

She scoffs, tossing her bag onto the floor.

“Maybe if you guys weren’t so controlling, I wouldn’t have to lie about it.”

You feel your stomach drop, but Drew doesn’t flinch.

“Controlling? Ellie Starkey, we’re trying to keep you safe here. That boyfriend of yours… he’s not good for you. You’re different since you started hanging out with him, and not in a good way.”

Her eyes flash, and she steps toward him, voice rising.

“You don’t even know him, Dad! You just hate him because you hate me having a life. You and Mom are so embarrassing, always up in my business like I’m some kid.”

“You are a kid,” Drew snaps, louder than you’ve heard him in a while.

“You’re sixteen, not twenty-five, and you don’t get to talk to us like that. We’re your parents, not your punching bag.”

Ellie freezes, and for a second, you think she might back down. But then she spins on her heel, stomping up the stairs.

“Whatever. I don’t need this.”

The door slams again, and Drew stands there, hands on his hips, staring at the empty hallway. You walk over, resting a hand on his arm.

“She didn’t mean it,” you say quietly. “She’s just… lost right now.”

He sighs, pulling you into a quick hug.

“I hope you’re right.”

A week later, everything shifts. You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for dinner when Ellie shuffles in, her backpack still slung over one shoulder. Her face is puffy, eyes red, and she doesn’t say a word just drops into a chair and stares at the table.

You set the knife down, glancing at Drew, who’s just walked in with a script in hand. He stops short, brows furrowing.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer at first, just sniffles and swipes at her nose with her sleeve. You move closer, sitting across from her, but Drew beats you to it, crouching down beside her chair.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, voice gentle now, all that frustration from before gone.

“Talk to me. What happened?”

Her lip trembles, and then it spills out.

“Ethan broke up with me.”

Her voice cracks, and she buries her face in her hands.

“He said I’m too boring, that I don’t ‘get’ him. And he’s already texting some other girl from school.”

You feel a pang of anger toward that little punk, but Drew’s already got it covered. He pulls a chair over, sitting close enough that his knee bumps hers.

“Ellie, listen to me,” he says, steady and sure.

“That guy? He’s an idiot. You’re not boring, Ellie, you’re smart and funny and way too good for someone who’d treat you like that.”

She peeks at him through her fingers, eyes glassy.

“Then why’d he dump me?”

“Because he’s a dumbass who doesn’t know what he’s got,”

Drew says bluntly, and you can’t help but smile a little.

“Guys like that they don’t see what matters. You deserve someone who’s gonna respect you, not tear you down.”

Ellie sniffs again, dropping her hands.

“I thought he liked me. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you chime in, reaching for her hand.

“You’re figuring stuff out. That’s what this age is for.”

Drew nods, brushing a strand of hair out of her face like he used to when she was small.

“And hey, I know I’ve been hard on you lately. I’m sorry if it felt like I was coming down too tough. I just… I see you changing, and it scares me. I don’t want you to lose yourself over some guy who doesn’t deserve you.”

She looks at him, really looks at him, and her shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry, too, Dad. For being such a jerk. I didn’t mean to make you guys hate me.”

“We could never hate you,” you say, squeezing her hand.

“Never,” Drew echoes, pulling her into a hug.

She resists for half a second before melting into it, burying her face in his shoulder like she hasn’t in months. You catch his eye over her head, and he gives you a small, tired smile, relief and love all mixed together.

Later, after she’s eaten something and gone to bed, you and Drew sit on the couch, his arm around you.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “She’s got us.”

And in that quiet moment, with the house finally still, you know it’s true.

[rafes-slut]

Unfinished Business

Professor!Rafe Cameron x College Student!You

Warnings: Explicit smut, age gap (legal), power imbalance (professor/student dynamic), slight degradation, tension, possessiveness, semi-public teasing, mutual obsession, and lots of forbidden desire.

Summary: A wild night at the club leads to an unforgettable hookup with a man who is everything you shouldn’t want—commanding, intoxicating, and completely addictive. You leave without exchanging names, assuming it was just a fleeting moment of pleasure. But when you walk into class the next morning, your blood runs cold.

The bass thrummed through your body, the heat of the club wrapping around you like a second skin. Bodies moved against each other under the dim, flashing lights, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and the promise of bad decisions. You were here to let loose, to forget about responsibilities—just for a little while.

And then you saw him.

Tall. Broad. Dressed in a dark button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing veins that made your breath hitch. His sandy blonde hair was messy, like he’d run his fingers through it a dozen times. But it was his eyes that trapped you—sharp, piercing, and already locked onto you from across the bar.

He didn’t just look at you. He devoured you with his gaze.

You barely had time to process before he was in front of you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of cologne and whiskey.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was low, rich, dripping with arrogance.

You tilted your chin up, refusing to be intimidated. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Don’t need lines when I know what I want.”

And fuck, the way he was looking at you—it was like he already had you figured out, like he could see the heat crawling up your spine, the way your thighs pressed together at the pure confidence dripping from him.

It was reckless. Completely impulsive. But when he pulled you onto the dance floor, his hands gripping your hips, moving you against him, you knew you weren’t walking away from this man tonight.

—

You barely made it through the door of his apartment before his hands were on you.

Your back hit the wall as his mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue and desperation. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you whimper, and he groaned at the sound.

“Already making those sweet little noises for me,” he muttered, lips trailing down your neck. “Knew you would.”

Your dress was on the floor before you could even think, his hands exploring every inch of exposed skin like he was memorizing it. You gasped as he lifted you with ease, carrying you to his bed and dropping you onto the mattress.

His eyes roamed over you hungrily. “You’re even prettier like this.”

You barely had time to process before he was on you, kissing, biting, touching—completely consuming you.

—

The next morning, you slipped out of his bed before the sun had fully risen. You didn’t exchange names, didn’t leave a number. It was just a night—one incredible, unforgettable night.

And that was supposed to be the end of it.

—

You walked into your first class of the semester feeling a little hungover but otherwise ready to get through the lecture.

Until you saw him.

Standing at the front of the lecture hall, flipping through a syllabus, looking effortlessly put together in a fitted dress shirt, was the man from last night.

Your stomach dropped.

No. No fucking way.

He looked up, and the second his eyes landed on you, you knew. His expression didn’t change, but there was something in his gaze—something dark, something knowing.

His lips quirked, just slightly.

“Good morning, class,” he said smoothly. “I’m Professor Cameron. Looks like we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other this semester.”

His eyes flicked back to you, lingering just a second too long.

Your heart pounded.

You were so, so fucked.

—

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto’s Guard Dog – Part 5

Part 1 Parte 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 636

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: Y/n finally kisses Toto, but when Christian Horner catches them and starts running his mouth, she unleashes hell.

________________________________________________________

Y/n had Toto Wolff right where she wanted him.

For weeks, he’d been smirking, teasing, playing his little power games. But now? Now she was in control.

And Toto hated it.

Well, hated might be the wrong word.

Because every time she leaned in just a little too close—every time she touched his tie, ran her fingers down his arm, or murmured something suggestive just for him—his restraint cracked just a little more.

She was winning.

Until, of course, he decided to ruin her life.

It happened in the Mercedes motorhome.

The paddock had been hot, sticky, exhausting. Y/n had been up since sunrise, running around, dealing with logistics, making fun of Horner three times before breakfast—the usual.

By the time she made it back to the hospitality lounge, she was done.

Toto, of course, looked perfectly fine. No sweat, no exhaustion—just standing there in his crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed, watching her like he knew things.

She scowled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His smirk deepened. “Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking.”

Toto chuckled, stepping closer—too close, really. “I was just wondering…” He tilted his head. “How far are you willing to push this, schatzi?”

Her breath caught. “Push what?”

Toto leaned in, so close she could feel his breath. “This game of yours.”

For the first time in her life, Y/n was speechless.

And Toto?

Toto knew it.

He chuckled, so smug, and started to pull away.

Absolutely not.

Before he could move, Y/n grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision—weeks of tension snapping like a rubber band, lips crashing, hands tangling in fabric and hair.

Toto made a sound deep in his throat—half surprise, half something much darker—and then his arms were around her, one hand gripping her waist, the other cupping her face as he devoured her.

God, he kissed like he did everything else—completely, overwhelmingly, like he owned her.

Y/n felt dizzy. Drunk. Gone.

And then—

“Ohhhhhh, well isn’t this adorable?”

Y/n and Toto ripped apart.

And there, standing in the doorway, looking way too smug—

Was Christian Horner.

Y/n was going to jail.

She could already see the headlines: Mercedes Strategist Murders Red Bull Team Principal in Broad Daylight.

Horner was grinning. “I knew there was something going on with you two.” He wagged a finger between them. “You know, Toto, for all your talk about professionalism, this seems very—”

“Get out.” Y/n’s voice was deadly.

Horner ignored her. “Honestly, this explains so much. The guard dog routine? The constant defending?” He smirked. “Tell me, Y/n, is it loyalty or are you just whipped?”

Toto tensed.

Y/n saw red.

“Oh, that’s rich,” she snapped. “You want to talk about being whipped? You’re the one whose wife has to publicly defend you every other week because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Horner’s smirk faltered.

Y/n wasn’t done.

“You have the audacity to call me Toto’s guard dog when you’re literally running around begging for scraps of validation from a team that doesn’t even like you? How embarrassing.” She took a step closer. “You think I’m obsessed with him? Sweetheart, you’re obsessed with beating him. And you never will.”

Horner opened his mouth—then shut it.

And for the first time ever, Christian Horner had nothing to say.

Y/n smiled sweetly. “Now. Get out.”

Horner turned on his heel and left.

The second the door shut, Toto let out a long whistle. “Mein Gott.”

Y/n turned to him, still fuming. “I hate him.”

Toto grinned. “I know.”

She crossed her arms. “I—”

Before she could finish, Toto grabbed her face and kissed her again.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he owned her.

Like he was saying, Mine.

And Y/n?

She kissed him back.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗥𝗜𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘 lando norris x girlfriend! reader ( angst, dark, psychological horror ) fic summary . . . Your world starts shifting in the smallest ways—laundry folded when you never touched it, bills paid without your input, and letters signed with a name you shouldn’t know. By the time you finally try to run, it’s too late—Lando Norris is already there, waiting, ready to remind you that you were never going to leave (2.8k words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

this is dark fiction contains mature themes of psychological horror, do not read if that makes you uncomfortable. you've been warned

CONTENT WARNING — ( +18 MDNI, stalking, kidnapping, dark themes, non-consensual acts, dub-con, manipulation & coercion, psychological abuse, captivity, forced dependency, obsession, possessiveness, power imbalance, fear, helplessness, dehumanization, objectification, unhealthy relationship )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The first time you noticed something was off, it was small.

A shirt, washed and neatly folded on your bed, even though you distinctly remember tossing it into the laundry hamper days ago. Then it was your bills—emails confirming they were paid, despite the fact that you hadn’t touched your banking app. Maybe you were just tired. Overworked. Forgetful.

But then the letters started coming.

They were handwritten, ink pressed deep into expensive paper, each one signed with a flourish.

You don’t need to worry about anything. I’m taking care of you.

Wear that blue dress tomorrow. I want to see you in it.

Don’t think about running. You wouldn’t get far.

The gifts appeared next. Jewelry in little velvet boxes, an expensive perfume you once mentioned liking in passing, delicate lace underwear that matched sets you had lost. Your fridge, which you never remembered restocking, was always full of your favorite foods. 

But it was the missing items that truly made your skin crawl. Panties vanishing from your drawers. The faint scent of unfamiliar cologne clinging to your sheets.

You tried to ignore it. Tried to tell yourself you were imagining things. But paranoia clung to you like a second skin, fear curling in your stomach every time you entered your apartment, never knowing what you’d find. You considered going to the police, but every letter carried an unspoken threat, a silent warning laced between the lines.

And then, one night, you decided to leave.

You packed in a hurry, throwing essentials into a duffel, your hands trembling as you zipped it shut. You didn’t care where you went—just somewhere far, far away from here.

Your fingers had barely grazed the doorknob when you yanked it open—only for it to slam shut.

A hand. Large, steady, pressing the door closed from over your shoulder.

Your breath hitched, ice crawling through your veins as you felt it—warmth radiating from behind you, a body too close, too solid, pressing into your back. The air shifted, the faintest brush of breath against your ear.

Then, the slow, arm snaking around your stomach, firmly holding you into his body to eliminate any space between you..

"You’re not going anywhere, love."

The voice was smooth, edged with something dark. You turned slowly, heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes met his for the first time.

Lando Norris.

You knew his face. Everyone did. But up close, in the dim light of your apartment, he looked different. His usual boyish charm was laced with something more sinister. Possessiveness flickered behind those stormy blue eyes, the curve of his lips almost . . . amused.

He stepped forward, leisurely closing the space between you, his fingers brushing over your cheek before you could flinch away. “You weren’t really thinking of leaving me, were you?”

Your throat felt tight. “Lando—”

“Took you long enough to say my name.” He exhaled, almost like he was relieved, before gripping your chin between his fingers. His touch was firm, not bruising, but enough to remind you of your place. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

Your stomach churned. “Please… let me go.”

His thumb traced your bottom lip, and the smile he gave you sent ice down your spine. “Now, now,” he tutted. “I’ve done everything for you. I’ve taken care of you. And this is how you repay me?”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, but you refused to let them fall. “I never asked for any of this.”

Lando’s gaze darkened, something sharp flickering across his expression. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “But you’re mine. And I don’t like losing what’s mine.”

You swallowed hard, pulse racing as he pulled back just enough to look at you again, studying every inch of your face like he was committing it to memory.

Then, he smiled—soft, affectionate, like you weren’t his prisoner but something precious, something treasured. “Now,” he murmured, reaching for your duffel bag and tossing it aside like it meant nothing. “Let’s get you out of those clothes. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

The unspoken or else hung heavy in the air, suffocating you.

And for the first time, you truly understood.

There was no leaving.

There was no escape.

You don’t remember how long it’s been. Days, weeks—maybe months. Time doesn’t exist the same way in here.

Lando leaves sometimes. Not often, but just enough for you to feel the ache of his absence. The first time he left, you felt relief. A breath of air that wasn’t saturated with his presence, with the thick, suffocating feeling of his control. But then the hours stretched. The silence became deafening.

You’d never been scared of silence before.

But now, it claws at you. It reminds you how alone you are. It reminds you that if something happened—if the world outside forgot you existed—no one would come.

By the time he returned, you had curled yourself into a tight ball on the floor, your breath shallow, your body trembling. The sight of him standing in the doorway, silhouetted by dim hallway light, should have sent fresh waves of terror through you.

Instead, you exhaled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lando murmured, closing the door behind him. He crouched down in front of you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “Did you miss me?”

You shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have felt that desperate sense of relief, like a drowning person finally breaking the surface.

But you nodded.

His smile was warm, pleased. “That’s my good girl.”

It’s easier when you don’t fight.

The resistance had lasted in the beginning. Stubbornness was stitched into your bones, refusal threaded through your veins. But it didn’t matter how hard you fought—Lando didn’t break. He waited.

Waited for you to come to your own conclusions.

Waited for you to realize that obedience meant warmth, comfort, clothing.

Disobedience meant cold tile floors, meant standing in front of him with nothing but skin, his gaze dragging over you like hands, pressing, owning.

You learned.

Your body still belonged to you, in some small way. If obedience kept his eyes softer, if listening meant he didn’t look at you like that—like something he could devour—then obedience was a small price to pay.

Lando knew it, too.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured when you handed him your empty plate after dinner, your hands shaking just slightly. “I like when you listen.”

You hated when he praised you. Hated the warmth that bloomed in your chest at his words. It wasn’t real. None of this was real.

But your brain was starting to betray you.

Somewhere, deep down, in the parts of your mind he’d sunk his claws into, you wanted to be good for him.

The apartment was too quiet when he left.

At first, it had been the silence that unsettled you. The absence of footsteps, the lack of his voice, the eerie stillness that seeped into your bones like ice water. Even though you hated him, feared him, loathed every breath he stole from your skin—when he was gone, you felt untethered.

Your fingers trembled as you hugged your knees to your chest, curling into the corner of the couch where he usually held you. The collar around your throat felt heavier when he wasn’t there to tug at it, to remind you that you belonged to him.

It had been months now. Maybe longer. Time had turned into a slow, syrupy thing, dripping through your fingers in melted memories of a life you used to have. You barely remembered the scent of your own apartment, the sound of your phone buzzing, the feeling of slipping into fresh clothes that hadn’t already been picked for you.

Because Lando did everything for you.

At first, it had been terrifying—the way he controlled every detail of your existence. He fed you, bathed you, dressed you. He decided when you slept and when you woke, when you spoke and when you stayed silent. When you were good, he rewarded you with soft touches, curling you into his lap and stroking your hair. When you disobeyed… he reminded you who you belonged to.

But something worse had started happening.

You needed him.

Not just for food, or warmth, or comfort. You needed him because when he was gone, the silence was unbearable. Your stomach clenched with hunger even though the fridge was full. Your throat tightened with thirst even though there was water. Every meal tasted like ash without his fingers pressing it to your lips.

And when he touched you—when he cupped your chin and made you look at him, when he praised you, when he let you rest your head against his chest—you felt safe.

It was sick.

It was wrong.

But it was all you had.

Lando had left again.

You told yourself you wouldn’t panic. That you wouldn’t curl into the corner like some pathetic, abandoned pet. You wanted to be alone.

Didn’t you?

Your fingers trembled as you touched the edge of the collar around your neck. The key was gone. It always was. The door was locked.

You could scream.

But who would hear?

A part of you whispered that you could do it. You could find a way out, somehow. You could fight harder. You could—

The thought shattered when the door handle twisted.

He was back.

You froze in place, every muscle seizing, every part of you bracing for the flood of emotions that came with his presence. Fear. Loathing. Relief.

Lando stepped inside, eyes immediately landing on you. His lips curled into something almost affectionate.

“Still sitting in your little corner, hmm? Right where I left you.” His voice was gentle, teasing. “You really don’t like being alone, do you?”

Your throat felt too tight to answer.

He knew.

You had fought so hard not to need him. But he had taken everything. Stripped you down to something weak, something fragile, something that only existed inside this apartment.

“I told you,” he murmured, stepping closer, crouching in front of you. “You don’t need anything else. Just me.”

He reached out, his fingers threading through your hair, brushing the strands from your face, petting you like something docile, something broken.

And you let him.

Because at this point, you were something broken.

"You think you own me?" Your voice cracked as you took a step back, fists clenched. "I’m not your pet, Lando. My soul isn’t yours."

You recoiled when he reached for you, dodging his touch like it burned.

Lando didn’t move after that.

He just stood there, watching you.

No anger. No shouting. Just a quiet, unreadable gaze. His expression was placid—too placid. The faintest curl of amusement ghosted over his lips, as if you were a child throwing a tantrum.

Slowly, he tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Undress."

The word slithered through the air like smoke, curling around your lungs, suffocating.

Your breath hitched. The weight of his command pressed down on you like cold iron, making the room feel smaller, the walls inching closer.

You shook your head—barely. Your throat was too tight to form words.

Lando exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. "Did you not hear me?" His voice was light, almost playful. "Take your clothes off."

A chill crawled down your spine.

When you still didn’t move, he clicked his tongue. "You love testing my limits. Fine. You can handle the consequences."

The distance between you vanished in a heartbeat.

Before you could react, his fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion. The rush of cold air against your skin sent a violent shudder through your body. The loss of fabric was too sudden, too exposing.

Your hands trembled at your sides, nails digging into your palms. You wanted to run—to fight—but Lando didn’t allow it.

"Keep going," he murmured, voice smooth. No urgency. No cruelty. Just an expectation. Like this was nothing more than another command you were expected to obey.

Your fingers felt foreign, sluggish, as you undid the button of your pants, slipping them down your legs in stiff, jerky movements.

"Underwear too."

You clenched your jaw.

Your hands faltered, your pulse hammering in your ears. Just get it over with. Just—

"Slower."

A choked noise caught in your throat.

You obeyed.

Your hands shook as you peeled away the last layer, exposing yourself inch by inch beneath his watchful gaze.

When you hesitated, barely breathing, Lando simply held out his hand, waiting.

Waiting for you to give him your underwear.

Shame curled hot in your stomach.

His brow lifted, lips parting slightly, as if mocking your hesitation. Humiliation crawled up your throat like bile.

Your fingers twitched before you finally placed the fabric in his open palm.

Lando examined the garment briefly, then hummed, bringing it to his nose and taking a slow, deliberate breath.

"I’ll let you keep the socks," he mused. "Next time, I won’t."

A warning wrapped in false kindness.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself.

It was everything after.

The way Lando’s eyes never truly left you.

He didn’t touch you. He didn’t need to.

You felt his gaze.

He flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up. Sipped his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup. Paused mid-step when walking past, his eyes dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

It was worse than any touch.

You wanted to disappear, to sink into the floorboards, to claw at your own skin if it meant escaping his stare.

Your arms twitched, instinctively moving to cover yourself—

You stopped.

You knew better.

He wanted you aware.

Of yourself. Of him. Of this endless, unbearable humiliation.

At some point, the shame became unbearable.

You reached for a blanket—just something, anything to dull the feeling of exposure.

A sharp tsk cut through the air.

Before you could wrap it around yourself, Lando was there, plucking it effortlessly from your fingers.

He folded it neatly over his arm. "No."

Your stomach twisted violently.

Your breath hitched as you turned away, arms wrapping around yourself as if that could shield you.

It didn’t.

Then he spoke, and it was worse than anything else.

"You’re beautiful like this."

Soft. Gentle. As if this was normal.

The words shattered whatever fragile control you had left.

A sob ripped from your throat.

You stood there, trembling, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as the tears came—silent at first, then wracking, unstoppable. Your shoulders shook, your breath hitching, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except break apart right where you stood.

Lando huffed, almost amused, before his hands found your wrists, prying them away from your body. In one smooth motion, he pulled you against his chest, his grip firm, unyielding.

He kissed your head. Rubbed slow circles against your back.

It shouldn’t comfort you.

But it did.

He told you he had to leave.

It was the last race of the season. He would be gone for days. Maybe longer.

And the moment those words left his mouth, something inside you shattered.

"No," you whispered, shaking your head. "No, you can’t—Lando, please—"

His hand reached for his suitcase, and before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. He turned to look at you, startled.

"Don't go," you begged, voice breaking. "Please don’t go—please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t leave me here alone—"

Lando sighed, brushing his fingers through your hair. "Sweetheart, I won’t be gone long. You’ll be fine—"

"No, I won’t!" You were sobbing now, gripping his arm like a lifeline, your body trembling so hard you could barely stay upright. "I’ll die without you, Lando—I’ll die in here, I’ll starve, I’ll—"

"You won’t starve," he said, voice calm.

"But I will," you choked out. "Not like that—but I will."

Your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the floor. Your arms wrapped around his leg, clinging to him desperately. You didn’t care how pathetic you looked. You didn’t care that he was smiling, that this was exactly what he wanted.

All you cared about was keeping him here.

"Take me with you," you whispered. "Please, Lando, please, I’ll be good, I swear, I won’t try to run, I won’t even leave the hotel room—I just—just don’t leave me here, please—"

You were pulling at him, your fingers slipping against the fabric of his pants, dragging along the tiles as he moved toward the door.

And Lando… just laughed.

It was soft, almost affectionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, stroking through the strands as you sobbed into his thigh.

"You really can’t live without me, huh?"

You shook your head frantically.

His smile was gentle as he knelt down, cupping your face in his hands. "That’s what I wanted, baby," he murmured. "I wanted you to need me."

And God, you did.

You needed him more than air.

noice notes 🔊 . . . ( its been a while since I wrote something dark. I wrote dark for Max and Charles, and now it's Lando's turn, most likely Oscar or Carlos next )

[nanasrkives]

navigation : midnight records! the starlight EP! the mha EP!

"RIGHT WHERE I LEFT IT" — Bakugo Katsuki

a/n : OK OK just think ab Bakugo with a tattoo of his wife’s lipstick stain? this might be my fav work atp content : fluff. kiss kiss kiss. secret marriage. pro hero bakugo. bakusquad freaking out. 1k words.

Bakugo doesn’t come home quietly, he never has.

The door closes harder than necessary, not slammed, but firm—final. The kind of shut that says he’s done with people, cameras, lights, and noise. You hear the usual rhythm of him dropping his keys, kicking off his shoes, muttering something low under his breath as he moves through the apartment. He doesn’t come straight to you. First, he changes, washes off the evening and leaves the night behind.

You’re already lying in bed when he finally comes in. The light is soft, not too dim. The bedroom quiet in the way you both like it. You’re stretched out on the covers in one of your nightdresses—simple, mid-thigh, familiar. Something you didn’t think twice about putting on. When you glance up and see him standing there, cleaned up and still carrying the weight of the night across his shoulders, you don’t say a word. You just open your arms.

He doesn’t hesitate. Crosses the room and sinks onto the bed like he’s been walking toward you all day. He fits into you without effort, head tucked near your collarbone, hand on your waist, body relaxing piece by piece as he lets the noise fall away. You hold him quietly, running your fingers through his hair.

“Long night?” you mumble, running your hand on his large, glorious back. “Fuckin’ nightmare,” he mutters, voice heavy against your skin.

“You left your collar open.”

He groans under his breath. “Didn’t realize it was that low.”

“They saw it.” you tease him.

“Yeah, they wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.”

You press your lips to his neck—soft, warm, familiar. He exhales through his nose, shoulders loosening just a little. You kiss the spot again. Just below his jaw. Then again. And again. Each one slow, thoughtless, part of you. Over the tattoo. Over where it began.

You’ve been kissing him there since U.A.

Back then, it was new for both of you, despite being well into your third year. That was the first time you both really let someone in. It wasn’t a fling—both of you had tried that with other people before, but nothing had ever stuck. Not for him. Not for you.

You never talked about it much. Not with the others. It was your first serious relationship. His too. You kissed him there before every mission, every big test, and sometimes just because it felt right. He used to roll his eyes at you, muttering that it was dumb—but he never pulled away. Never told you to stop.

No one knew, really. Just Kirishima, and Deku. They were the only ones who ever saw through the both of you. You and Bakugo didn’t broadcast it. You didn’t need to. You found your rhythm in empty hallways and quiet dorm rooms, the days between training sessions when no one else was looking. When he’d get too stubborn to admit he needed a break, you’d pull him into a corner, press your lips to that spot, and he’d sigh like you’d taken the weight of the world off his shoulders.

Back then, it was just you two.

Tonight, it’s not a secret. Everyone saw it. The tattoo. The kiss. Japan exploded over the fact that Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight had a lipstick stain tattoo on his neck. They speculated. They made guesses. They screamed about the mystery woman who had permanently marked him.

You’re smiling softly to yourself when the video comes through—Kirishima’s message, the one from the event, the one where Bakugo is surrounded by the squad, the camera flashes going off, and Mina is practically yelling at him.

“BAKUGO, TELL ME WHO KISSED YOU—WHO KISSED YOU AND WHY THE HELL IS IT TATTOOED??”

Kaminari is screeching behind her. “DID YOU JUST TATTOO SOMEONE’S LIPS ON YOUR NECK?! WHO ARE YOU HIDING???”

Sero’s already holding up his phone, looking like he’s trying to figure out if he’s witnessing a crime. “Dude, WHO is she? This is next-level.”

You even notice Todoroki standing in the back, looking at Bakugo curiously also wondering about his tattoo. And Kirishima, standing off to the side, is grinning from ear to ear, like the smug bastard he is, knowing full well what’s really going on. Then he texts you,

guess your soft launch is on 😌

You can’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head as you set the phone down. When you look back at Bakugo, his eyes are half-lidded. His fingers are still tracing the hem of your nightdress, and you know he’s trying to let go of the tension from the evening.

You lean in and kiss the tattoo, just below his ear, where it’s always been.

“Let them guess,” he whispers. He exhales, pulling you closer, his lips pecking your lips. “They won’t figure it out,” you says, voice laced with amusment.

“Good,” he agrees, “They never will.”

The kiss on his neck is more than a mark. It’s the secret only you’ve ever shared. It’s your couple's trademark, something that will always be yours.

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

TAGLIST (OPEN). / @ayatakanosstuff @arwawawa2 @itsmeaudrieee @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i @andysteve1311

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

SWNP

Sevika x Female Reader (Smut)

Title means sex with no plot :)

Cw: Sevika has both arms. Slightly modern AU/Zaun. Age gap that isn’t illegal, not really mentioned a lot. Sex; fingering, nipple play. Not a lot of dialogue (SO SO SORRY).

Proofread || Note: Hi, so… IM BACK? I’ve been so busy with school, it’s actually insane. The amount of work I get HAS to be illegal— and that’s probably why I took a break. I’ve been super duper stressed and had literally no motivation to do anything but binge watch Netflix. Let’s hope writers block doesn’t come back for round 401.

You were dying.

Sat in her lap and “watching” TV. Sevika had gotten home a few hours ago and had decided she wanted you close for the rest of the night. Not an inch apart, she meant your ass inbetween her spread legs. And that’s what she got.

The first few minutes were normal, eyes fixated on the screen infront of the two of you before things began to escalate.

She planted her dark lips against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there as her hand crept up your shirt. The warmth of her palm pressed against your stomach, just inching closer to the edge of your bra, felt like heaven. The room felt hot, as if you’d melt in her arms if she kept it up. Of course, Sevika always finished what she started, and this was no different. Heavy breaths hit your skin before an open mouthed kiss was placed there, with just her saliva was left behind, before she continued elsewhere.

One thing Sevika was oblivious to was how every touch brought a slow throb to form in your cunt, only being tamed by the tight close of your legs. But, now, knowing you were guaranteed pleasure, all you could do was squirm and wait until her fingers would finally entered you. Which, you hoped would be soon.

“Look a’me,” she ordered. Her voice low, almost a gruff as she turned your head to the side. With her lips crashing against yours, you gave her entry to your mouth. And, your girlfriend didn’t hold back, she practically dove right in. Her free hand even slithered down to the hem of your shorts, just playing with the band of your panties there. Teasing and gently scratching, leaving you to squirm. You close your eyes, your heart thumping loudly against your chest. With her tongue exploring your mouth, running over your lips, Sevika’s hand slid down. Without hesitation, her middle pressed against your clit— just waiting to hear that moan of yours.

And without a doubt, she did. That barely audible noise that escape your lips. It took all her willpower not to forget about taking her time and make her girlfriend all happy.

But, Sevika wouldn’t give in. So, for a reward, she peppered your shoulder with lovingly heavy kisses, her lips would linger for a second too long before she’d pull away. As for you, all you felt was the ache inbetween your legs. Your pussy was practically yelling for friction, more contact, more attention. But waiting was what you had to do, be patient and let the woman do what she knew best; you.

With slow, circular motions, she gave you a taste of pleasure. Just riding on the tip of your clit with barely any pressure, but enough to drive you crazy from impatience. Sevika knew what she was doing, but could only keep it up for so long. Why? Because she liked loved hearing how good you felt, how it was her who made you feel so. Nothing could beat that feeling, the bubbling up of pride in her chest whenever you moaned for mercy, it was addictive.

You almost felt your eyes roll back as soon she slid her finger in and curled inside. Your walls closed against her before she hit the spot, the spot that would leave you satisfied for hours. It was slow at first, just pressure against your wall, but she quickly picked up her pace. A muffled moan left your lips, a few even, but Sevika didn’t pull away. She’d been kissing you for a good while now, practically eating you.

The press of her chest against your back, her heavy breathing on your face, and the warmth of her arms had you feeling a sense of overwhelming need. Her pace was fastening and the feeling was indescribable. The rub of the tip of her finger, the sensation each nerve shot throughout your body, and the feeling of dependence was all mixed up in a jumble, hard to pick apart. So, you didn’t. You let those feelings mix, swirl up until all you seemed to feel was that familiar knot form. Which, in turn, made you feel a kind of love, lust. The kind that left you hoping Sevika would never stop, keep going until you were dead.

Pulling away from the long, jaw breaking kiss, a needy groan left the woman. Her eyes were now lidded, almost closed, her brows furrowing with focus, with her lips parted. God, she looked pretty. So much so that you couldnt stop yourself from reaching up, feeling her bottom lip as she leaned into the touch. Your own eyes fluttered as you tried to keep them open; the look on her face was one you would crave for days after this. It was the look that made you forget everything— except the fingering skills she possessed. Hell, your toes were beginning to curl from your orgasm beginning to pool up. It was only a matter of time before you’d explode, let your body go into such a state of bliss that you’d be too spoiled to want to come back.

“Keep forgetting how lucky I am,” she whispered, breaking the trance you were in.

She breathed you in like it was the last time she’d do so, burrying her nose into your nape before pressing open mouthed kisses there. You tried your hardest to stay composed, as you always did, but it never seemed to work out. The way she felt in you, the way she curled inside and gave you the pleasure you so desperately needed. You loved it all. But, somehow she made that feeling increasing a dozen times more. By adding another finger she could feel you better now. Move and rub with more precision and ease. Not to mention make you cum a lot faster— that was one of her goals, seeing how fast she could get you to break.

You wouldn’t last long, she knew that. So, with her freehand now on your breast, she slowly slid your bra down; careful not to make you uncomfortable— even the slightest bit. Under the thin fabric of your shirt, Sevika’s fingers gave your, already hardened, nipples a pinch. A pull. Even a twist. She was going all out, “not vocal today, doll.” She murmured.

She was right.

You weren’t, not as much as you would be. But that was only because of the complaints; you’d been getting them for a while now. “Neighbors,” with your voice strained, you moaned out. Which, the woman snorted at. “Understandable, but I don’t really care.” The sensation from your nipples shot straight down to your core, where it would only fuel the fire. Like straying gasoline on a lit match and waiting for the heat to spread.

“C’mon now, say you like it. Like just how good I finger you.” Sevika’s voice was smooth, her tone not so much, but she sounded smug. Like she already knew how much of a ‘pro’ she was. “t’s good, Vika. Really—“ You bit down onto your bottom lip, holding back a moan as she played with your bud. “—Good.. so good..”

Your girlfriend was satisfied, for now. Her fingers curled faster, rubbing with more pressure. Each stroke felt tantalizingly good and you swore your head went numb for a second too long. Hell, if that wasn’t enough, your orgasm was pooling faster than ever. Just on the brink of surfacing; which had you clutching the couch fabric. Nails digging in as you, finally, moaned freely.

“I,” your voice said it all. Shaky and rough. “Cumming— I’m cumming!”

Sevika shifted. With her fingers still inside, she moved her freehand lower. Palm pressed against your lower abdomen, she pushed down. The new sensation sent a shiver straight through you, even causing your head to fall back. That, definitely, was your last straw, because you weren’t trying to hold it together anymore.

Just like that, you were riding your high. The orgasm hit harder than you had expected it to— but, god, was it good. Your body writhed in your woman’s arms, your woman who was staring at you like you were some goddess. Admiring you quietly, taking you in. Each glance send her into a different kind of high, the kind that made her feel like the only woman on the planet. Like she’d been sent straight to heaven; which, in her opinion, she had been.

Afterwards, she let a huff of a laugh leave her lips as she slowly pulled out, feeling the wetness around your hole. You were soaked, so much so that your panties stuck to your pussy. Sevika smiled at that, knowing it was all because of her. And, now, all she had to do was kiss you sane again.

That’s what she did, smothered you with kisses on your shoulder, neck, jaw, anywhere she could reach.

“Y’did great, doll.” She whispered, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you closer to her front. Your warmth spreading through her chest, which she cherished.

You, on the other hand, were huffing for air. Your eyes lidded, your body tired in the best way possible, and your skin damp with sweat. With your head dropped back against Sevika’s shoulder, you lean into her embrace. As you always did.

Now, all you needed was a hot shower. One that would wash away all the sweat— but, you didn’t want to wash away her touch just yet.

[anj3llyf1sh]

jjk boyfriend/girlfriend headcanons pt. 1

top. warnings: none, just fluffy goodness

a/n: my first headcanons!! no warnings, just fluff and silly little thoughts

yuuji

the type of love that makes his friends sick to their damn stomachs

hates when people infringe on his "y/n time" which could be anything from you being away on a mission for a few days to he literally only went to use the bathroom

one time, nobara conned you into going shopping with her and you forgot to tell yuuji and he was gnawing on the bars of his enclosure fr

don't get it twisted, he trusts you with his whole soul and isn't controlling or anything, he's just clingy :((

needs to have a hand on you at all times to just reassure himself that you're real and still here

plays with your fingers a lot while he spaces out or talks to his friends

doesn't care if you're literally just going one room over, he expects a goodbye and hello kiss every single time, and will pout if he doesn't get it

this boy remembers everything about you istg he's like a memory bank

he absolutely has a note on her phone that's just a list of your favourites

colour, food, things he's noticed make you smile, etc.

the type to buy you small trinkets from everywhere he goes just because it's your favourite colour/animal/it just reminded him of you

you have a lot of surprisingly soft moments with yuuji

lots of time is spent with his head on your chest and you running your fingers along his scalp in silence, it helps with his headaches

he often falls asleep after this, just because it relaxes him so much

the more fingers he eats, the worse his headaches get because sukuna gets harder and harder to ignore

loves going places with you

literally everything will be exciting to him

a market, a fast food place, a park

no matter how mundane, he'll have the time of his life, just because he's there with you

his favourite dates are the arcade and the movie theater ofc! (you're the only one who'd watch those god-forsaken worm movies with him)

megumi

megumi takes a whileeee to warm up to you

it's not that he hates you, he just doesn't understand why you insist on being so kind to him

kinda suspicious of you at first ngl

like you're so nice to him... why... what do you want...

but will slowly come to enjoy your presence

he's kinda like a cat

sometimes he just follows you around in silence because he wants to watch what you're doing

if you're cooking or doing some schoolwork and get something wrong, he'll point it out but other than that, he just wants to bask in your presence

on a similar note, he's the type to swing his hand close to yours when walking next to you to get you to hold his hand

or stand right next to you in the elevator, letting your shoulders brush because it's "crowded" (it's not)

behind closed doors however, he's more open

loves to put his chin on your shoulder to talk to you or throw his legs over yours on the couch

doesn't say "i love you" a lot but makes sure to let you know by taking care of you

like, by the time you realize you have a cold, he's walking through your door with cough medicine and hot soup

is so cute too, asks yuuji for a good recipes to make for you

will summon some of his animals to let you pet them

the dogs love you

so do the rabbits

nobara

had such a staring problem

because she refused to confess first

she desperately wanted a shoujo manga confession

you thought she hated you tbh

you confronted her one night when neither of you could sleep and she was able to turn it into the fairytale confession she'd always hoped for

shopping dates every week, they're not negotiable

please please please let her dress you up in whatever cute things she finds

she runs the show for sureeee

she's not controlling, no, she just wants everything to be perfect for you two

and so she'd much rather plan the dates, to make sure every detail is justttt right

creates whole pinterest boards for every date

loves getting you things but is always secretly nervous that you won't like it even though she has more info on you than your cia agent

desperately wants affection but overthinks it

she wants to know that you want to be affectionate with her without her having to tell you

revisiting this staring problem, she will try to send you telepathic messages to you to kiss her or hold her hand, but she just ends up staring at you like 👁️👄👁️

it's so obvious too like

"Gojo-sensei!!!! Kugisaki's doing the weird eye thing again!!" - yuuji's last words before being beaten to death with a hammer

tries to make you gifts because they feel more special

once she tried one of those little stuffed animal crochet kits and ended up crying on the floor of her dorm room while yuuji finished it for her because she couldn't get the face right

always has to be touching you in some way

whether its her arm around your shoulder, fixing your hair, pr sitting so close your legs brush, she just needs to be within arms reach

loves having girls nights, facemasks, snacks and a movie and lotsss of snuggling

always complains she can't sleep without you when she's away, to the point where yuuji will beg gojo to go back to the school and get you (and sometimes it's bad enough that he does exactly that)

gojo

umm... kinda shit partner tbh

to start at least!!

whether you ask him out or the other way around, he says yes.. just because

i mean he wouldn't have said yes if he didn't find you attractive but still

i feel like he's so used to constant overstimulation, he says yes to the anything that surprise or excite him

he doesn't really think long term and is quite selfish

he, pretty slowly realizes that he genuinely likes being around you

sucks at communication, will unintentionally ghost you for hours or days at a time if he's away on a mission

and that almost cost him the relationship, which is something he'll always be sorry for

unfortunately, losing you was exactly what he needed to realize how important you were to him

slowly starts letting his guard down, allowing himself to bask in your attention and vice versa

loves to annoy the shit out of you

dries his hands by rubbing them on your shirt

presses a grossly wet kiss to your cheek

steals your fries

tickles you until you're in tears

anything to hear you huff and whine at him

huge fan of being the little spoon, head on your chest every night no ifs, ands or buts

he's away often and will throw a tantrum if you take his "only luxury in life" away from him

once he's down bad, he'll let you drag him anywhere, to a shitty movie, this one cafe you've always wanted to go to, you name it, he's going there with you asap

every so often, he'll get serious with you

like when he wakes up before you and just traces your face with his finger, memorizing every feature

he'll watch you do the most mundane things with his head propped up on his hand, love pouringggg from his eyes

always, always, always brings you gifts from his travels

and on the rare occasion that he's too busy to get gifts, he'll immediately return there after dropping the kids off to get you something

or... just takes you there the next time he gets a vacation day

no matter how much he grows as a partner, this man loves seeing you upset

there's just something about it...

but that's for another post <3

[sv3t1ana]

SYNOPSIS ᯓ Choso had every intention of taking it slow, letting you guide him. That was, until he saw you wrecked, breathless, begging. Your knees are then pressed beside your ears, letting him fuck into you panting filth he didn't know he was capable of. You realize this isn't the shy, quiet Choso you knew, instead a man claiming what's his.

PAIRING ᯓ Virgin! Choso x Reckless! Reader

WARNINGS ᯓ SMUT MDNI, rough sex, size kink, overstimulation, dumbification, pussy drunk, FLUFF, he's possessive, unholy amounts of dirty talk. PORN WITH PLOT, praise and degradation, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), PROTECTED piv sex, SOBER sex, alcohol use, mentions of addiction (if you squint), tender aftercare, filthy & desperate first-time sex.

WORD COUNT ᯓ 5.1k

SERIES ᯓ GOJO ⋮ GETO ⋮ CHOSO ⋮ SUKUNA

The night is loud, music pulsing and laughter spilling over the rim of cheap cocktails, cigarette smoke curling toward the ceiling in ghostly ribbons. The air smells of spilled liquor, a heady mix clinging to your skin as you make your way through the crowd. You don’t remember coming to places like this, only that it was easier to drown in the noise than to sit in the quiet and listen to the thoughts clawing at the edges of your mind.

You were always running, reaching for the next drink, the next thrill, the next temporary high that might make your pulse spike high enough to remind you that you were alive. People liked you for it, being a fun good time, the kind of girl that others called when they wanted a night to remember (or forget). Fun didn’t ask questions, it didn’t care about the nights you woke up in places you don’t recognize, accompanied with bruises you didn’t remember getting. Fun didn’t notice the way your hands shook when you were alone for too long.

“Babe,” Yuki’s voice breaks through the blue, her warm fingers curling around your wrist. “I gotta go. But I’m leaving you in safe hands.”

You blink at her, a little disoriented, only now realizing how unsteady your legs feel. The drinks have settled in your veins, making sharp edges turn soft. “Safe hands?” you echo, laughing briefly. “Yukiii, that’s so boring.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grins, half-amused and half-irked. “Try not to die without me.”

She’s already steering your shoulders toward the bar before you can protest, and suddenly, you’re in front of him.

Choso is sitting in the corner, nursing a drink with slow and deliberate sips. His presence is steady, a stark contrast to the chaos around him. He’s always been like that, watching and waiting, eyes following the ebb and flow of the crowd like he’s looking for something.

Yuki leans in close, murmuring something in his ear before clapping a hand on his shoulder and shooting you a wink. With a lazy wave she disappears into the sea of bodies, leaving you alone with him.

Choso doesn’t speak right away, just looks at you with those deep, dark eyes of his. He’s always been a little distance, standoffish, but never unkind. You’ve talked in passing before, but never like this, not one-on-one.

And that’s when you realize, you don’t actually know what he thinks of you at all.

The thought of that lingers as you slide into the seat beside him, your movements too slow and heavy. The world tilts, not unpleasantly, but noticeable. Choso notices too, eyes flicking over you with something close to concern.

“You okay?”

You hum, propping your chin on your hand and watching him through half-lidded eyes. He looks… good. Sharp jaw, dark hair, broad shoulders, just so unfairly handsome that you wonder why you never really looked at him before. It could be alcohol, or it could just be the way he holds himself, like he’s always exactly where he’s supposed to be. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of how close he is.

“You’re cute,” you murmur, a little too dreamy and reckless.

He stiffens. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” you say, tilting your head to get a good look at him. “Still true.”

His eyes flicker, and you don’t miss the way his throat bobs when he swallows and the way his fingers twitch.

Of course you prod, because you always push too far, you ask, “Choso. Have you ever been with anyone?”

He goes still, and you watch the shift in him, how his shoulders tense, hesitating just a fraction of a second too long.

Your lips part as you realize it all in real time. “Oh my god. You’re a virgin?”

His jaw clenches, and for the first time he looks genuinely uncomfortable. “Does it matter?”

You should stop, just let it go. But, something about the way he looks at you so wary and defensive makes you lean in close to him, voice dropping to a whisper. “I think it’s kinda hot.”

He doesn’t respond, just staring at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re serious. You are. The idea of being his first, of being the one to unravel him, has an aggressive kind of appeal.

Before he can wrack his brain to say anything, you stretch out. “I’d love to be your first.”

His grips the glass tighter, knuckles white. He can’t tell if you mean it, or if it’s just the alcohol talking. His mind spins trying to process it. Her, you. Sitting in front of him, looking so disheveled, so inviting, lips parted like you might say something far worse.

But you’re too drunk. He knows that. Even if his stomach twists at the thought of your words being genuine, he can’t ignore the way you sway slightly, how your eyelids keep fluttering like it’s a battle to keep them open.

He exhales slowly. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

You blink at him. “Hm?”

“Your address,” he repeats. “Where do you live?”

You just giggle, face feeling too warm. “I wanna go home with you.”

He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Helping you out of the bar, keeping a steady hand modestly at your back. You’re sluggish, pressing into his side more than necessary, and he pretends not to notice the way your fingers toy with the hem of his sleeve.

When you get to his apartment, you’re already kicking off your shows and humming to yourself like you belong there. Choso hesitates, “you can take my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

You frown, jutting out your bottom lip and pinching your brows. “No fun.”

“No drunk decisions,” he counters, guiding you to sit. He kneels in front of you, reaching for a damp cloth to help you wipe off your makeup. His touch is careful, so gentle. When he offers you one of his shirts to sleep in, he has to force himself to look away as you pull it over your head, swallowing thickly when he catches a glimpse of bare skin.

He doesn’t sleep much that night, just staring at the ceiling while listening to the sound of your soft breathing just a few feet away.

You wake up wrapped in the scent of crisp vanilla. Your eyes flutter open, then squeeze shut again as the bright afternoon light seeps through the blinds to your left, casting streaks across the unfamiliar room. It’s foreign, neatly kept and minimalistic. The sheets under you are a dark blue, matching the comforter cocooning your body. A computer sits in the corner, its monitor dark, with no posters or personal touches in the room. It feels like a placeholder of a room, functional but impersonal.

You sigh, pressing the heel of your palm to your forehead as the realization and guilt start flooding in. Waking up in a stranger’s room, again.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you brace your hands against the mattress to push yourself up, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Your movements are slow, careful as you pad toward the door and peek into the hallway. The scent of something warm wafts. Following it, you step out only to find Choso standing in the small kitchen, spatula in hand and flipping eggs onto a plate.

He turns at the sound of your footsteps. “Morning.”

And just like that, your heart is racing. Last night’s events flash through your mind, unforgiving and strangely vivid. The bar, the teasing, how you leaned in and murmured against his ear, I’d love to be your first, your own words making your stomach twist.

God, you really said that?

He was plating the food, clearing his throat. “I, uh, made eggs. If you’re hungry.”

You swallow down your mortification, thanking him while sliding into one of the stools at the counter. The plate he sets in front of you is simple, scrambled eggs with toast, nothing fancy, but the sight of it makes you smile. It’s been a while since anyone cared enough to make you breakfast.

As you lift the fork, scooping a bite of eggs in your mouth, you can feel his eyes on you.

Choso watches you in silence, studying the way you eat. Your hair is a mess, all tangled from sleep, mascara faintly smeared under your eyes. The shirt he gave you drapes over your frame, hanging low enough to cover your shorts. The way you sit, spine curved and bare legs crossed at the ankles, feet dangling just above the floor, stirs butterflies in his stomach. He likes how comfortable you look, how naturally beautiful you are, even if you think you’re at your lowest.

The thought of last night sours his mood.

He wished it happened differently. He wished you two had that conversation under better circumstances, not while you’re drunk, teasing without realizing the weight of your words. Truthfully, he’s always wanted to approach you personally, but he never knew how. Your world was unbounded, fast-paced, a whirlwind of impulsive choices. His was more stable, controlled, and safe.

Too safe for you.

He grips the edge of the counter a little tighter. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom if you need it. And you can take a shower if you want.”

You blink up at him, caught off guard by his consideration. “Oh. Thanks.”

Getting off the stool, you stretch your arms above your head before heading down the hall. The bathroom mirror confirms all of your suspicions. You look rough. Lips swollen from sleep, imprints of a pillow crease along your cheek. You find the toothbrush and run it under water before brushing, the repetitive motion of it grounding you.

Instead of stepping into the shower, you sink onto the edge of the tub, staring at the tiled floor as last night’s events replay.

You’d love to be his first.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. You were way too blunt. But still, it wasn’t a lie. You would love to be his first, just didn’t wish you threw it at him in the middle of a bar while drunk off cheap vodka.

You push yourself up, making your way back to the kitchen. Choso looks up as you step in.

You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

His brows furrow. “For what?”

Your eyes flicker around the room looking for the right words. “For being a drunken mess. I keep telling myself I’ll stop but-”

His expression shifts. “It’s okay,” his voice softer than before. “I just-” he brings a hand up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Your lips twitch. Because you know what he means, but you tilt your head, feigning innocence because, well, you are you, after all. “Why? You’re not a danger to me, are you?”

He freezes, color rising in his cheeks.

Oh.

Yeah, you both remember everything from last night.

You frown a bit, steadying yourself as you brush past him moving to the door. You slide your shoes on, fingers tugging at the laces. You look up at him, and he looks reluctant. Maybe a little sad.

“I’ll bring your shirt back tomorrow,” you say, hand curling around the doorknob. “After I wash it.”

You hesitate, biting your lip in frustration. And before you can overthink it, you glance over your shoulder. “By the way,” you say quietly. “I really did mean what I said last night.”

And before you can step through the door he interrupts you.

“Wait.”

You pause, one foot outside before you turn around. His voice wasn’t commanding, it was quiet, uncertain, like he wasn’t even sure he said it himself. You look back, and he’s still standing there, hands twitching at his sides.

You step back inside, letting the door click shut behind you.

“Choso?” taking slow steps toward him, but he still doesn’t move. When you reach him, your hand lifts instinctively, fingers grazing his shoulder. He’s warm, solid.

“I do think you’re cute, Cho,” you admit softly. You weren’t used to this kind of thing, of being careful and deliberate, but you find yourself wanting to be.

His breath hitches, blinking down at you as his lips part, eyes searching your face like he still can’t believe you’re being serious. He looks so nervous, so unsure, but underneath it, there’s something you don’t think he even realizes is there.

And suddenly, you want to take care of him, cradle his face and tell him how important he is.

Choso just breathes shakily. The thought of telling you he wants you to stay beating against the inside of his skull, but his mouth refuses to work. He clenches his jaw in attempt to force something out, something that won’t make himself sound like an idiot.

“I want you to stay.”

It escapes before him before he can stop it, a little too direct and raw.

You hum, watching him closely. He’s nervous. But you can feel the heat beneath his eyes, how his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you.

So you do it first.

You kick off your shoes again, taking his hand in yours and slipping your fingers between his. He stiffens before holding on tight as you lead him back to the bedroom.

Choso is barely breathing as you pull him toward his bed. His grip on your hand is tight, like he doesn’t realize where he is or how hard he’s holding on to you until you give a gentle squeeze.

“You’re still sure about this?” you sit at the edge of the mattress, peering up at him. “We don’t have to rush, we can wait.”

His heart is a pounding, restless muscle in his chest. He considered it useless, because his face was in front of yours, offering such a sensitive side of himself no one’s seen before. But he’s so soft, fingers laced with yours so patient.

“I want this,” he murmurs, eyes wide as he looks at you. “I want you.”

Lips curling into something tender, appreciating this gift he’s giving you, and the sight of it alone nearly takes him apart.

“Let me kiss you?” Your fingers brush over his jaw.

He nods quickly, but you only hum. “Use your words, Cho.”

The way you say his name, so warm and sweet like it’s meant just for him, makes something bloom in his chest. “Y-yeah. Please.”

You guide him down, lips brushing over his first, featherlight, hesitant, careful, so much softer than he expected. His body is tense, unsure of what to do or where to put his hands, how to react, even.

He barely gets a moment to ground himself before you kiss again, deeper. You’re slow, patient, waiting for him to catch up. Your tongue just barely teases the seam of his lips, and before he realizes it, his own lips part and let you in.

It’s intoxicating the way you taste, clean because you just brushed your teeth but a flavor that’s so uniquely you. It was like he could taste all of you, your past experiences, what made you into who you are, and honestly, he barely knew anything about you. It was exhilarating the way your tongue brushed against his, how your fingers slip into his loose hair like you want him closer. He sighs against your mouth, pressing forward without thinking. His hands hover, unsure before settling at your waist.

You hum in approval. “That’s good,” you murmur against his lips. “Touch me more, Cho.”

His fingers wiggle to your hips, tightening before hesitating again. “L-like this?”

“Mhm,” you nod, shifting to guide his hands into moving along your body, squeezing your waist, caressing your back, holding your hips. “You’re learning fast.”

His grip grows more confident, lips pressing against yours with a little more intent, beginning to case your mouth, letting himself whimper when you lick into him. The kisses grow wetter, deeper, trails of spit connecting each time you part, and he lets himself move more on instinct rather than nervous indecision.

You shift, straddling his lap, and his breath really stops for a second. Your weight settles over his thighs, barely giving his erection any pressure, but he barely holds back a groan. He can feel you, warm and soft against him, your hands threading through his hair. He grips your hips by instinct, squeezing tightly.

“Fuck- sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Shh,” you soothe him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay. I like it.”

His eyes are blown wide, hands still caressing you hesitantly. “Y-you do?”

You hum, smiling at him and rolling your hips juuust slightly, seeing the full body shiver wracking through him.

“You feel so good,” you whisper. “Kissing you feels good, touching you feels good,” another slow grind of your hips. “Do you like it, Cho?”

His head tilts back, a breathy sound slipping past his lips. “Yes,” he chokes out. “Fuck, yes.”

Your hands glide against his solid, clothed chest, smiling into his neck. “Good.”

He is so tense, muscles drawn tight beneath your touch. His heartbeat is frantic, hammering against your palm, his body already betraying how much he wants this, wants you.

So he stays still as you peel your shirt off, baring smooth skin and lace, his breath shallow, uneven, in awe. His gaze flickers from your face to your chest, unsure where he’s allowed to look.

You shift again in his lap, your barely-there shorts dragging against the taut fabric of his sweats as you rock forward.

“You can touch me,” you murmur, taking his large hand and placing it against your bare thigh. His fingers are warm, unpracticed.

You guide him higher, letting the pads of his fingers graze the edge of your panties. A sharp, choked noise leaves him, caught between a gasp and a groan.

“I…” His voice is wrecked, strained, low and raspy. “You’re so-”

He doesn’t finish, can’t because you’re moving again, already pressing his fingers past the waistband, guiding him exactly where you need him.

Wet.

Soaked.

Drenched.

He stills completely, realization slamming into him harder than anything else. And yeah, he’s seen porn before, heard what arousal sounds like, knows that girls get wet when they’re turned on. But this?

Nothing prepared him.

His fingers slip against you too easily, noticing the way you gasp when he grazes a certain spot, quickly finding your entrance and feeling you pulse around him. He’s throbbing, probably about to cum himself as he switches between fingering you with a single digit and circling your clit, your slickness coating his skin entirely, it’s like he can’t even think. Labored breathing, he was such a good learner, and you were such a good teacher, hastily learning how to make a woman cum, how to make you cum. Listening as your breaths become shallow, quickened as he inserts two fingers, massaging you from the inside as you reach closer to climax.

Then you whimper, a sound so sweet and desperate.

When he dares to look up, you’re watching him. Half-lidded eyes, lips parted, and hair slipping from your shoulders as you lean into his touch. Your face contorted into something so beautiful, so vulnerable that makes his stomach coil so tight it’s painful.

Then you beg.

“Please, Cho. Please faster.”

Oh he absolutely breaks. Fingers moving before his mind can catch up, before realizing what he’s doing, working you open and fucking his fingers into you with no hesitation.

“So wet,” he mumbles, voice hushed. Words falling without him registering how filthy they sound.

“You feel- fuck- you feel so good.”

He’s lost, completely focused on the way you react, obsessed with every shudder, every audible breath. And he’s still talking, voice low, breathless, almost pleading as his fingers thrust harder, faster, deeper.

“Like that?”

A sharp not. “Y-yeah, just like that, Choso-”

He groans deep and rough. His free hand finding your bare waist and gripping possessively. Restraint completely gone.

His mind is fuzzy, utterly overwhelmed by how hot and perfect you feel, by the fact that this is real, happening right now, and he’s the one making you fall apart.

Your hips roll into his touch, digging your nails into his shoulders as the drive of his fingers increase, letting your body jerk and walls clench around his digits when he uses his other hand to circle your clit.

“Fuck- Cho- fuck m’cumming,”

You’re above him still, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as your thighs tremble, pure ecstasy as you realize yourself how long you’ve been waiting for this kind of relief, most men using you like some toy until they’re satisfied, no one truly listening to the signs of your body like Choso does. It was like he was worshiping you and every part of your body you offered to him.

“Does it feel good? Yeah? Fuck-” his fingers more desperate as he talked you through it, curling unintentionally into your g-spot, nearly cumming in his pants as you gasp for air, hand moving to grip his wrist on the brink of overstimulation.

He doesn’t even think before he does it, fingers still wet with you, glistening in the natural light when he absentmindedly brings them to his lips, a primal part of him needing to know how you taste.

“You taste-” he pauses, trying to think of the right words before giving up.

He opens his hand, licking up his palm, sucking his digits as he looks up at you, still coming down from your high.

“I wanna taste you again,” and it’s not a question. Not when he’s hastily picking you up from his lap, laying you before him and hastily dragging your shorts and panties down your legs, settling between your thighs and licking his lips.

You really don’t even know what happened, but it was like something in him physically snapped, you went from guiding his hands to touch you, to him gripping your thighs, widening you for him as his nails dig into your flesh, diving head first into your folds.

He was desperate, messy, uncoordinated, licking in a down-to-up fashion, feeling the way your knees attempt to close around his head, fingers threading his locks trying to push him away from your sensitive center, when instead, he ravishes you.

He learns quickly, using only his tongue and lips to plant messy kisses, slurping your arousal and letting the suction of his lips linger on your clit, earning sinful whines from you.

“Keep makin’ those sounds.”

To say he’s addicted is an understatement, completely devoted to pleasuring you, dependent on the honeyed cries leaving your lips as he works you with his mouth, freely grunting into your pussy and unable to help the slow rock of his hips against the mattress.

Oh this was his new favorite thing.

He even loved that you didn’t shower, able to savor your carnal aroma and flavor.

Inserting his tongue, then returning to plant open-mouth kisses, all while his fingers dug passionately into your thighs.

“Want you to cum like this-”

And you did, almost instantly as the muffled, strangled words left his mouth. It was intuitive as he worked you, continuing his ministrations as you arched your back, bringing fistfuls of his sheets in your hands, crying out ruthlessly because you didn’t care who heard.

He pulls back, lips glistening, eyes desperate, hands still gripping your thighs like he doesn’t want to let go.

But then, his brows furrow slightly, nose scrunching like something clicks in his dazed, lust-addled brain. You watch has his jaw clenches.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost like he’s mad at himself for stopping, forcing himself to pull away. “Condom.”

Your head is spinning too much to process his words at first, body still burning from his mouth, but then you see him fumbling for his wallet, tearing his shirt off as he settles between your legs again with the foil packet between his clumsy fingers.

It’s a little awkward to say the least, a little endearing. He’s rushing, frantic, struggling to rip it open properly because his hands are still trembling from how much he wants you.

You reach forward, simultaneously unclasping your bra behind you. “Here, let me.”

And you take it in your hands, ripping it open and staring at the huge bulge at eye level.

Thick. Heavy. Your fingers barely wrap around the base, warmth radiating through your palm as you stroke him, feeling the weight of him in your grasp. His swollen head twitches against your touch, precum beading at the tip, so needy and impatient.

He’s so hard, flushing a deep red and standing proud. You trace a finger along a thick vein pulsing against the ridged underside. Your mouth goes dry, “You’re-” blinking at him, dizzy. “Choso, you’re fucking huge.”

Thighs pressing together, anticipation thrumming hot and tight in your abdomen.

“Is that… bad?”

His teeth grit when your hand tightens around him. “You’re staring,” he mutters, voice deep and shy.

He watches as you put the condom on, rolling it down his length and pinching the tip.

He can’t wait, not anymore. His hands grab your thighs, spreading you open. His body so warm and solid as he settles between your legs.

Pressing in slow, watching how your warmth envelopes him, sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of you, so wet, so tight, gripping him like you were made for him.

He’s shaking, face warped as he moves slow. Sinking in you completely, throwing his head back and groaning, using the underside of your thighs to press your knees to your chest.

“Take it- take all of it, yeah- just like that, just like- fuck-” His voice hoarse, unhinged as he loses himself in you, lips parted as he watches the way you take him, bruising grip and hips moving in slow, deep thrusts like he’s starved for you.

And he’s so desperate, so broken like he’s trying to talk but all that comes out is filthy, wrecked rambling. Every thrust gets rougher, deeper, wanting to see how far he can take you.

One whiny plea from your lips. “Harder- please, Cho-”

His grip tightens, thrusts brutal and messy, mouth dropping open as he watches you fall apart beneath his hold.

“Fuck- oh fuck, yeah- beg for me again-”

He looks so messy, loose hair clinging to his damp forehead and framing his face perfectly. You watch as his sharp cheekbones flex, clenching his jaw, teeth baring slightly. His fingers curling tighter, holding you in place for him as he watches the way you squirm, whimpering his name and the way your stomach tenses every time he grinds deeper.

Your body jolts with every brutal thrust, thighs trembling as he folds you in half, grip punishing around the backs of your knees. His pace is devastating, like he has no restraint left, something inside him snapping.

He’s deep, too deep, throwing a shaky hand to his stomach in desperate attempt to slow him down, only for a second, just to catch your breath, but he doesn’t stop. Growling at the touch, abs flexing beneath your palm.

“Nah,” his voice is rough, words slipping past clenched teeth. “Nah, you can take it- fuck- you’re already takin’ it. Look at you, look how messy you are for me.”

And you are, soaking his middle with your arousal, so slippery around him he glides in and out so easily. But you’re struggling, his thick length stretching you deep, circumference making you feel like you’re being ripped apart.

He’s snapping his hips forward, spearing into you so deep your back arches off the bed, a gasping sob ripping from your throat as he slams into you unforgiving.

His free hand presses against your lower belly, right where he’s stretching you past your limit, right where he can feel himself inside you. His fingers push down, the lightest pressure, but the sound you make in response is just pathetic.

“Feel that?” His pace reckless, using you like he’s deprived. “Fuckin’ feel me right here, baby. That’s how deep I am.”

He grabs your hand, pushing your palm against your lower stomach so you can feel too, eyes so glossed over in pleasure you’re left breathless, just the sounds of you getting wetter for him and his bed breaking filling the air.

And he can’t get enough, pushing your knees to your ears, lifting your hips as he pounds you through the mattress.

When he sees you, your face all fucked-out, eyes glazed, mouth open like you can’t even process words anymore, he barely pulls out, rutting into you deep and deep.

“Fuckin’ dumb on my cock, huh? Yeah? Can’t even talk, can you?”

Virgin Choso is far gone, because this is primal, filthy, obsessed Choso. He’s no longer your shy, quiet friend, rather the man who’s about to ruin you for anyone else.

“You’re mine, yeah? Mine. Fuck- I need you to say it. Say it, baby, c’mon.”

You don’t even know when the orgasm started and stopped, body numb, boneless, some state of euphoria as he only seems to get rougher.

“Say it.”

You barely even heard what he said thirty minutes ago, but he’s flipping you on your stomach like you weigh nothing, tanking your hips up and groaning when you feel even tighter.

“I said say it. Say who this pussy belongs to.”

One hand grips your hair, tugging your head back.

You gasp, struggling to breath as he forces you to feel every solid inch, barely able to choke out, “It’s yours.”

But it’s not good enough.

“Say it right, sweetheart.”

You’re panting, shaking, on the verge of breaking completely he can feel the weak pulses around his length.

“It’s yours, Cho, this- this pussy’s yours.”

And his drives turn sloppy, more erratic, dragging out the last of your broken moans pushing you through what could’ve been the tenth or twentieth orgasm of the night.

“F-fuck, baby, I’m-”

His hands locking on your hips, deep and rugged as he breathes against your sweaty skin.

“Ohh, fuck- fuck, take it- take all of it, I’m gonna-”

Groaning, tilting his head back and body shuddering as he spills hot and thick into the condom, tightening his grip grounding himself through the mind-numbing pleasure, nearly bursting it by the sheer amount, more than he’s ever gotten out of himself.

He pulls out slow, reluctantly, the absence of him leaving you twitching, a soft whimper escaping before you can stop it. He lets out a low, shaky breath, hands running over the bare, sweat-slicked expanse of your back.

Then, softly, he murmurs, “...Did I hurt you?”

He was so quiet, so careful, so unlike the filthy possessive man that just fucked you like he never wanted to stop.

Barely having the energy to shake your head, smiling, lazy and hazed. “No,” you whisper.

He exhales, relief tangible before his lips are on you again. Except not hungry nor desperate, just gentle. Pressing against your shoulder, spine, temple.

“Still want you to stay the night.”

[scorpioriesling]

How You Get The Girl

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Bodhi x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Bodhi had never been bad at anything -- being a rider, leading a squad, or with the ladies, either. However, you are his biggest challenge yet, as you manage to explain away every single one of his romantic advances.

SR’s Note: This is part two to Blank Space! How are we feeling? Do we want more? I sure do -- stay tuned! <3

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend @paintedbyshadows @poeticbookwormcat @lreadsstuff (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You'd woken up bright and early that Monday morning, determined to get to the library before class was set to begin. The entire rest of the weekend, you'd been sleeping off Friday night's events and aiming to avoid any public place that you might run into Bodhi -- or, Aaric, for that matter.

Aaric is cute, but Bodhi was interested first; whatever you do, just remember what I said about getting too attached.

Jesinia's warning rang loud and clear through your mind. You kept replaying it, over and over as you had the events of Friday night. When asked her opinion over the weekend, it seemed all she was able to provide you was... well, more worry over the situation.

Even after a week of no-contact, you still found yourself thinking about it during school hours.

"Y/N, I'll expect these transcribed over the next three days," Markham said sternly. You nodded in understanding.

"On my desk Thursday, please. Oh -- will you be joining me for Battle Brief tomorrow morning?" His question came with a raised eyebrow. You knew what that meant; the option was there, but there was only one right answer.

"Absolutely," you said without hesitation. "I'll be in the grand hall at nine."

He nodded in approval, moving on to the next row of tables to check in with your fellow yearmates. Jesinia had left early today, opting to run an errand for him in lieu of not attending Battle Brief in the morning. She'd told you once that she didn't enjoy signing in front of crowds much, which you could understand; but you figured she'd want to go so she would be able to see her boyfriend, nonetheless.

As the mid-afternoon bell rang, you collected your things. You felt as though you hadn't gotten much of anything done today, your head clogged with the million potential outcomes from what happened Friday night.

The warm sun was a welcome relief to the cool temperatures inside of the library, and you basked in it as you walked toward the outdoor cafe on campus. These texts weren't going to translate themselves, and if you were going to have them done by Thursday, you needed to get started.

By the time you were on the third page, however, you'd attracted a visitor.

"H-hey, Y/N."

Your eyes immediately left the page, favoring their gaze on the green ones staring back at you. The scrape of metal on stone was loud as Aaric pulled out a metal chair from beneath the table, opting to join you.

"Oh, hi! Aaric," you said, the nervous energy making an appearance once more. He grinned at you, scooting close enough that you were practically sharing breath.

"So... what are you working on?" He asked, and you sighed as you motioned to the array of papers around you.

"Well, Markham has given me the near-impossible task of translating all of this by Thursday," you laughed nervously. "So, I figured I may as well get started on it now."

His brow furrowed.

"All this work, due by Thursday," he sucked in a long breath, stretching his arms behind his head. "Seems a bit overkill, if you ask me."

You smiled awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Yeah... well... he is my professor, so."

He nodded slowly, gazing sidelong at you. He only broke the silence after a few long beats.

"Sucks, you know -- I was gonna see if you wanted to do something tonight," the left corner of his mouth tilted up. Your brows rose, and another nervous laugh bubbled out of your mouth.

"Oh! Ha ha, yeah, uh... I mean, I'd love to, but... I mean, I have all of this to get done," you explained, your cheeks reddening as you considered the situation. "Maybe Friday? I'll have all this done by then, surely."

Aaric smiled, full and bright -- it was no wonder he was related to the royal family. He looked like a prince straight out of a storybook.

"Friday, then." He said, scooting his chair back and rising from the table. You watched him walk away, the light from the sun bending around his slender build. Turning back to your papers, you found it arder and harder to focus, only seeming to think about Friday and it's impending fortune.

An hour later, you gave up, opting to head back to the dorms early in favor of a good night's rest. But, as you crossed the courtyard and headed for your room; you couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching you.

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Despite going to bed early, you found yourself sitting in Battle Brief dreary-eyed and exhausted. Markham and Duvera took turns going over the current events, and you had to surpress a yawn. Focusing was nearly impossible -- especially when the realization hit you that Aaric was sitting mere feet away from you.

Aaric.. and, Bodhi.

"That's all we'll be discussing today," he announced as the morning bell rung, and students began gathering their items. "I'll see you all Thursday morning, nine o'clock sharp."

His gaze fell on a blonde first year, who blushed with embarassment at being late this morning. He hadn't focused on her long, his gaze turning to you seconds later.

"How are the papers coming along?" He asked, though it came out more of a demand than a question.

"Good, Professor -- not much left to translate."

He nodded once. "Glad to hear that; I'll be expecting them Thursday."

You nodded in understanding as he stepped from the platform, making to ascend the stairs. Moments later, a familiar voice sounded from behind you.

"Too bad we didn't get to hear from you today; you always come up with such good discussion points."

You turned, your breath catching at the sight of the lean brunette standing mere inches from you. He bore a crooked grin, taking a step closer and up onto the platform with you.

"B-Bodhi," you stuttered, and his gaze intensified. "I... honestly, I didn't think you'd thought much of me, after that Friday night, anyway."

You weren't sure why you were so pressed over the fact that he hadn't spoken to you in weeks, and you wished to put out the angry flame coiling inside of you.

He rose an amused brow. "I didn't think you were keeping track."

A blush stained your cheeks, and he chuckled.

"I actually haven't caught up with you because I was stationed in Aretia for a few days," he explained, and your face fell. "So, not talking to you was certainly not by choice."

Your heart thudded in your chest. What an idiotic thing to say! Accusing him of ignorance when he was out saving Basgiath? You felt like a simple fool.

"Oh my gosh, Bodhi, I hadn't realized-"

"Don't be," he assured, leaning in closer to you. Suddenly, the lights in the room felt too hot, the layers of beige silk felt too heavy-

"Just let me take you out, show you that I mean it."

You stopped breathing.

Silence stretched between the two of you as the last few riders left the hall, and he leaned in close.

"One night, Y/N; just give me a chance." He grinned, and your entire face heated.

"Oh -- one night, ha ha, uh-"

"Friday?"

Your blood ran cold.

"I can't Friday... I'm, uh... busy."

He raised a suspicious eyebrow, his gaze roving over every inch of your face.

"Not surprised -- a pretty girl like you must have a thousand men waiting to take up her weekends."

Psh, if he only knew.

"No, no! It's not that, I just-"

"What about tonight then?" He insisted, taking one of your hands in his. Your next breath caught in your throat at the contact, and you found it hard to look at him directly.

"I-I can't... I have, so much homework."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, his hand dropping yours in an instant.

"Right... right." He said defeatedly. He took only a step back before sighing, crossing his arms over his chest.

"At least allow me to walk you back to the library, then?"

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

That night, you'd lit a candle and sworn off thinking about boys. Both Aaric and Bodhi had been occupying way too much of your mind lately, and with the amount of pages you still had to translate, there was no way you'd get it all done if you were distracted.

Jesinia had left you to your own devices that evening, understanding the workload you had and needing to run errands of her own. Besides, she agreed you'd be able to accomplish more if she were away from the dorm for a while.

You'd gotten through a few more pages when a soft rap on your window gusted the air from your lungs. You approached the glass quickly, timidly pulling the frame open to reveal who was standing outside.

You gasped when you saw him.

"Bodhi! I told you I couldn't go tonight, I have-"

"So much homework, right," he finished, leaning in through the frame and grunting as he pulled himself through it. He landed on his feet, straightening to look at you once more. "I'm here to help."

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah, right."

His eyes widened innocently.

"No, seriously -- with the workload Markham puts on you, I can tell it wouldn't kill you to have a little help." He looks around the room, opting to sit on the edge of your bed. "Where's your counterpart?"

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile spreading across your lips. "You mean Jesinia?"

He shrugged. "Same thing." Looking around the bed at the stacks of papers, he began rifling through them. "So, what can I do to help?"

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It'd been three hours since Bodhi snuck in, and two hours since you last had a sane thought in your head. Your mind kept wandering to the made up scenarios intrusively clouding your head, all centered around the handsome man before you.

"I think this is the final page of this chapter," he said, looking up from the paper to fixate on you. You gazed back softly, and his lips turned up at the sight.

"We can keep going if you want, or we can call it a night-"

Just then, the front door opened to the dormitory and in strode none other than your counterpart. Her eyes widened as she entered the room, taking in the scene before her.

Oh... hello, Bodhi.

He smiled tightly at her.

Hi Jes.

She schooled her expression as she set down her things, standing awkwardly near the foot of her own bed.

Are you guys studying or something?

You cleared your throat, signing quickly back to her.

No, Bodhi just came over to help me with some homework.

Her brows rose, and she nodded slowly.

I... see.

Bodhi hopped off the edge of the bed, grabbing his flight jacket and tugging it on before heading to the window.

I was actually just heading out, he signed, giving you an apologetic look. Always a pleasure, Jesinia.

She looked anywhere but him, not answering his last signage. You followed him to the window, chuckling as he shimmied through it.

"Did it occur to you to use our front door?"

He scoffed, finally clearing the small portal and signalling for his dragon.

"Do you know what would happen to me if I got caught in the girl's dorms?" He smiled, and his teeth gleamed impossibly white in the moonlight. You resisted the urge to lean out the window and touch him -- you really resisted.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised as his dragon approached in the distance. You grinned as he took your hand, pressing a tiny kiss to the back of it.

"Thank you Bodhi for your help."

You watched him go before climbing down, still in a daze from the events that just happened. But, what pulled you out of your stupor real quick was Jesinia's crossed arms and angry foot-tapping.

What? He just came by to help.

She huffed, flanking the edge of your bed as you sat atop it.

Do you realize what you've done? She signed angrily. In case you forgot, he is a rider -- you are not.

You narrowed your eyes, but she kept going.

Markham gave you this assignment to translate -- not Bodhi. Did you not consider for a second the rules of the Codex that prohibit rider's from accessing sensitive information-

Woah! Woah Jes, you waved your hands. The information isn't private, it's just a war recap. Besides, it's not like Bodhi is going to tell anyone anyways, you assure her. She levels a stare at you.

It's the point, Y/N. If you really needed help, why didn't you just ask me?

Her worried gaze sent a pang of guilt through your chest.

I don't need help -- I can handle it, you signed. I think he honestly just wanted to hang out with me tonight, and I let him without thinking of any repercussions.

The realization dawned on you that she was in fact, right. You weren't supposed to share unedited information with anyone outside your quadrant, and Markham would have had your head if he found out.

Jesinia raised a teasing eyebrow. All this, for Bodhi, huh.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. He's just a friend.

Yeah, sure, she signed, throwing an accusatory look at you before crawling into her own bed. Aren't you going on a date Friday with Aaric?

Right. That.

You sighed. Yes, you signed, reaching to blow out the candle. Like I said; Bodhi and I are just friends.

She chuckled, signing a single word before the room was enveloped in darkness.

Sure.

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

He'd come over again Wednesday night... to help with homework.

And walked you to the library Thursday morning... just to be nice.

Come Thursday night, he was outside your window again...

"Bodhi, what are you-"

"You alone?"

You huffed, folding your arms in frustration.

"Yes -- but you can't just keep coming by here you know, Jesinia already thinks you're dangerous-"

"Good."

Your eyes met his as he stood outside the window opening, grinning like he'd just won a prize.

"Now, are you gonna sit alone in your room all night, or come be dangerous with me?"

Your eyes widened as he extended a hand to you, and you bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. Did you want to do yet another thing that could get you in trouble? No. But, did you want to continue spending time with him?

Well...

You took his hand, and he helped you up onto the windowsill. Your breath caught as you looked down, hundreds of feet separated you from the cold, hard ground.

Your hands grew clammy.

"C'mon -- Cuir won't bite."

Your breath hitched as he tugged you through the window, and you shakily climbed onto the massive dragon's back. Every thought, every sense in your body had gone out the window (literally) as the beast breathed steadily beneath you, it's wings flapping to keep upright. Bodhi sat you in front of him, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other held onto one of Cuir's spikes.

"Hold on," he suggested, and you immediately closed your hand around the same spike he held. The feeling of your hands held together, his strong arm holding you firmly against him...

Butterflies didn't begin to describe it.

You glanced back through your window one last time, catching Jesinia's surpsised expression as she came through the doorway before the dragon launched into the night sky.

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[cutiefulism]

cw. nonmc!reader, reader n sylus r close long-distance friends, reader has a bf, implied stalking, lowk dialog for sylus is hard to write. also, based off of that one scene from you. i just needed to post🪫🪫

the beauty of shopping with sylus is that it’s so easy.

not just because of his black card (though, that definitely helps), but because he always seems to know exactly what you want and need.

you’re low on body wash? he’s already placed it your cart, waiting like a smug cat for you to notice only at the self checkout.

you’ve been craving some new, trendy sweet treat? he deliberately lingers around the aisle and watches you longingly gaze at the bag before dropping it in the cart for himself. (he’ll end up giving the whole thing to you later, claiming he didn’t like it.)

your bedroom door has been creaking? he casually brings it up just as you two pass the aisle, and you can’t help but agree. it really has been squeaky, and sometimes, late at night, you swear you can hear it opening and closing. weird.

plus, you thought sylus couldn’t hear it over the phone.

huh. maybe it’s louder than you thought.

his infinite wisdom doesn’t seem to end at mere grocery store runs, either. he does big purchases too, when you finally get away from your boyfriend and return to him.

you two walk through the mattress store with sylus a firm presence behind you and the salesman thoroughly scared away. they don’t know what’s best for you, he does.

you’re a cute shopper, he thinks. if it’s even possible for shopping to be cute.

then again, you make anything cute.

you’re just so concentrated, brows knitted together and your top row of teeth gnawing at your bottom lip, like you’re going into battle rather than buying a bigger mattress for you and your boyfriend.

sylus would prefer you be buying that bigger mattress for yourself and not that . . boy, but he keeps that venomous thought to himself.

as long as he makes you happy, sweetie.

even though sylus could make you much happier.

“sylus.”

like a dog heeding its master’s call, he stops right beside you, both of you staring down at a king-sized mattress.

he knows this brand. in fact, he’s invested a hefty amount of money into it. they’re pretty good, with cooling and heating features, along with being able to change the angle of it.

top of the line, of course.

you test out every aforementioned feature, and he doesn’t even need to use his evol to see that you’re sold. that’s the kind you want.

and so, that’s the kind you’ll get, price tag be damned.

you pat the space beside you, and sylus lies down. considering he’s practically 6’5, the bed isn’t quite long enough to accommodate him, and his feet dangle off the edge, earning a giggle from you.

again, cute.

“you probably had to get a custom-made mattress, huh?” you tease, and sylus only scoffs, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

“i’m not that long.”

you kiss your teeth. “but your feet are dangling off the edge! i bet you curl up all cute like a kitty just to fit, then.”

he hums. “definitely not.” you do, though.

you shoot sylus a flat, disbelieving look, one of which he only responds to with a smirk. “still . . this is a really nice bed,” you mumble and press yourself deeper into it, as if you can simply sink into the foam and springs. “so expensive, though . .”

he lets out an affirmative hum this time. “downsize. it’s cheaper, and your bedroom can’t fit a king.”

true. you’d probably have to take all your furniture out to even squeeze it in there.

“yeah, i think . .”

wait.

how does sylus know that?

you turn your head to look at him, the amusement now vacant from your face as you stare at him. he stares back.

“how do you know that?”

. . .

silence. not the peaceful kind, but the kind where you’re both holding your breath, tension and anxiety (moreso on your part) seeping into your frames.

the kind of tension that makes you rethink your boyfriend’s words, about how “weird” and “creepy” your friend is.

the kind that has you wondering if, perhaps, his words hold some truth.

sylus shrugs his broad shoulders, a move that should be casual but seems just a little too stiff. “a guess. it isn’t all that hard to figure out your layout from video calls.”

it was the briefest of pauses, but it was long enough for you to notice that there’s a strange twinkle in his crimson eyes, as if he knows something you don’t, like you’re a pig being led to the slaughter with a dangling carrot.

but no. no way. that’s ridiculous!

for one, sylus is your friend. you two have been friends for a couple of months now, actually, and have gotten pretty close.

two, his answer makes perfect sense. you’ve probably shown off your room without even noticing it, and he’s always been perceptive.

there’s no ill will here. why would there be?

you sigh and the tension deflates out of you like a balloon. this is what you get for watching all those docuseries late at night. you’re definitely watching something different tonight, like a cheesy romcom or a corny action movie.

“eh, you’re right,” you say as you push yourself up and off the mattress. “it’d probably be way too much to try and squeeze a king in there, and then i’d have to move all my stuff around . .” you tsk. “i should just stick with a queen.”

sylus follows your lead and gets up, and whatever was in his gaze earlier is gone now. “mm, yes.”

that boyfriend will be fine. he doesn’t have a choice but to be.

regardless, he doesn’t let you two leave without a swipe of his card. you’ll get that mattress, and he’ll get to watch you roll around on it when it comes.

a win-win, no?

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

Maya Mason x Intern!Reader HCs

We have a solid 10 minutes of screen time and I have MUSINGS so. You’re welcome.

Content/Warnings: Fluff and Smut, NSFW content separated from SFW, afab!reader but no pronouns used, one good girl mention, power dynamics, bitches be switches, mentions of some anal play, free use kink, degradation and praise, Orgasm denial, semi public sex

Tagging @msharkness here u go angel 💚

SFW:

When you started the position, everyone at the Studio pitied you. Maya is loud, audacious and not exactly known to cooperate very well. She has chased many interns right out of the industry.

But you refuse to let her break you. Every task she gives you, no matter how outlandish or ridiculous, you fulfill with bravado, handing her a finishes report just hours after. So of course, she begins to take a liking to you.

Every morning, Maya makes you grab her reusable mug and run to Starbucks. The reusable mug looks good for her image, but in reality she couldn’t care less about the environment.

You know she starts to like you when one day, there’s a second cup on the desk next to hers. When you ask which one she wants her drink in, she rolls her eyes. “Mine, obviously. The other one is for you. Go get whatever you like, before i change my mind. I want my usual!”

All your coffee and lunches are charged from her credit card.

You have lunch with her in her office, where she tells you the latest gossip from set as well as all her frustrations about her idiot coworkers. Seriously, if it wasn’t for her this company would have already failed.

She is short. Definitely shorter than you. At first, she seems very bothered by it. As your relationship develops, she starts to enjoy when you rest your chin on her shoulder or her head though.

She’ll grab you by the back of your head and place you there, your arms wrapping around her waist so she can rest her hands over yours.

As a boss, she’s quite strict and has very high standards. However, at parties and galas she will sing your praises to everyone who will listen, especially A List celebrity guests.

Its how Charlize theron learned your name. A fact that still makes your head spin to this day.

For your anniversary, she gifts you a small necklace with an M as a charm. When you ask how you’re supposed to explain it at work, she scoffs. “Make something up. I thought you’re in creative marketing.”

„Be a doll and fetch me those files from the art department. That’s my good girl.“

„Baby“ „Angel“

Once you go official at work, and honestly even before that, she always has a hand on your lower back, manicure digging into the fabric of your shirt.

She just likes to have you close, likes when people can see she has claimed on you first.

At work, she keeps pda on a minimum, she has too many responsibilities for that. But at home, she’s a big cuddler.

Loves to curl into your side or lay on top of you on the couch, loves her hands on her waist.

Adores it when you play with her hair, brush it, braid it, wash it for her when you shower together. Its one of the few times she melts into you, just lets herself relax and enjoy.

Maya is not a big fan of cooking, except for breakfast. Every morning, she will make you the best breakfast you coule imagine. Eggs, warm toast with molten butter, bacon and sausages, a little yogurt parfait with fresh berries and granola.

Her habit of making a big breakfast single handedly turned you into a morning person, because there is no way you’re missing out on your daily feast. Or the view of her in her satin pyjamas and fluffy socks, hair unkempt in a big bun on her head, the freckles on her nose full display.

You sit at your usual spot on the counter, watching her work away. She’ll brush past you, getting on her tiptoes to steal a quick kiss.

Or she’ll cage you in by planting her hands on the counter, taking her sweet time as she kisses you slowly, languidly.

If you’re late for work no one dares to comment on it because she tends to unleash hell on those who attempt to

At work, she has a strict no kiss policy. However that doesn’t extend to other activities…

NSFW:

Her work is frustrating. God its so frustrating. Thank goodness she has you at her beck and call, always there to help her out however she needs at the moment.

Loves to take you in her office, bent over her desk as she lets all her frustrations about her coworker’s incompetence out in you.

Or, when she’s stuck on desk duty, she likes to have you bent over her lap, lazily playing with you with one hand as she answers emails and calls with the other.

Both holes. I would even say she loves to tease your ass actually.

If you’re lucky, she was merciful enough to bite her nails off first. But you definitely had to take the full acrylics at least once when she was too worked up to care.

She made sure to take care of you afterwards, got you an ointment for the scratches and was extra gentle with you the next few days.

You have a free use agreement at work, if she needs to blow off steam, you are always right there to give her what she wants.

„I don’t know why Tyler would approve these candids.“ „I don’t know why you’re not bent over this desk yet.“

Maya makes sure you sit next to her in board meetings. When the conversation bores her, she‘ll just entertain herself by sneaking her hand between your legs. She loves to watch your face as you try to remain composed.

You can tell when she gets hates a pitch because she‘ll thrust into you harder under the table, and when she likes something she‘ll focus on circling your clit instead.

She’s absolutely a powerbottom at heart, and teaches you exactly how to please her and expects you to deliver. It you don’t, she‘ll keep you denied until you prove you deserve her touch.

She can leave you squirming for days, but you better never try to deny her. She will turn into an absolute brat if you do. No one denies her what she wants.

She has a tongue piercing that most people don’t know about, but it’s one of your favourite secrets about her. For obvious reasons.

At home, away from her dumbass coworkers and the fast paced work environment, she is a lot more gentle with you.

She loves to take long, steaming hot baths with you, making out sloppy as you take turns riding each others thigh, movements lazy and slow.

If you really want to treat her, you turn her around and gently thrust your fingers into her from behind, her knuckles white as she gripe the edge of the tub.

At work, all you get from her is sharp orders and degradation, but in the safety of her home, she whispers sickly sweet praise into your ear, talking you through it gently.

Seriously, the only time you can shut her up for a moment is when you have her in your lap, strap buried deep inside her as she rides out her orgasm, head thrown back and nails digging into your scalp. And even then she’s vocal, just not exactly coherent.

After, she will call you a good pet, hers and only hers, her treasure. Always whispered quietly into your ear as your arms are around her sweat coated body, but she means every word nonetheless.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Chapter Eight

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: It's New Year's eve, celebrations are in full swing and you have a plan. However, could an unexpected run-in with a blast from the past jeopardise everything?

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings/tags: Angst, swearing, drinking, jealousy, cliffhanger.

AN: This chapter was something.. let me tell ya 😅 But omg guys! Only two more chapters after this!! 😫 And I don't know how to feel about it! (gif not mine, found on google)

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Things had changed.

This time, you were certain of it.

In the days following Christmas, you and Dean had returned home with something different between you—something unspoken but undeniably there. And for once, it didn’t feel one-sided.

It was in the little things, the effortless ways he pulled you closer. How his hand would find yours absentmindedly, tracing circles against your palm as you sat together. How he’d tug you against him in the middle of the night, murmuring your name in that half-asleep rasp that made your heart ache.

It was in the way he kissed you, not to start something, just because he wanted to. How he stood a little too close when you cooked together, fingers brushing against your waist as he stole pieces of whatever you were making. How when you relaxed on the couch together, his arm was always open, waiting, inviting.

It felt like everything had shifted. Like somehow, without either of you saying a word, you’d slipped into something more than just casual.

Neither of you had put it into words, too afraid to break whatever fragile bubble you were living in. There was a weight to it, a meaning that neither of you dared touch. Because acknowledging it meant facing it, and facing it meant risking the chance that it could slip through your fingers.

But you knew where you stood. Or at least, you hoped it was obvious.

You didn’t want to push him. Dean had only ever had one girlfriend, and even that ended abruptly, and then years of flings and one night stands followed. Just because you’d been best friends forever didn’t mean this didn’t require a level of commitment—one you weren’t even sure he was ready for. And if he wasn’t? If he decided this wasn’t what he wanted? It would hurt like hell, but you’d survive. Because he was worth it. Because you loved him. As a friend, yes. But also as something more.

So you waited. And waited. And waited.

But Dean? He just... stayed in this in-between space. Not pulling away, but not pushing forward either. And that limbo—are we, or aren’t we?—had your anxiety climbing higher with every passing day.

So by the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, you’d made up your mind.

You were going to be all poetic and cliché, and kiss him at midnight.

You were going to tell him.

Tell him that you were in love with him. That you always had been. That you wanted out of this arrangement. Because you didn’t want casual. Charlie was right, it wasn’t you. 

You wanted him. All of him.

Consequences be damned.

Gabe had invited you all to a new club in town—a swanky place that had just opened, already gaining a reputation for its exclusivity. He’d pulled some strings with one of the owners (you didn’t ask what kind of “business” he’d done, because it was Gabe), scoring VIP access for the night. They were doing a rooftop firework display to ring in the new year, the kind of event that had already been dubbed "the real deal".

It was the perfect setting. The perfect moment. The nudge you needed to make the jump.

You took your time getting ready, determined to make tonight count. The dress you’d chosen was sleek, short enough to tease but classy enough to fit the upscale club scene. The fabric clung to your curves in all the right places, a deep, shimmering shade of blue that caught the light with every movement. Paired with strappy high heels that made your legs look longer than ever, you felt good—sexy, confident, and ready.

And Dean’s reaction didn’t disappoint.

When you stepped out of your room, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, finishing off a beer. He was dressed in a fitted denim button-up with the sleeves rolled up just enough to tease his forearms, black jeans that hugged his thighs in a way you tried not to focus on, and his usual worn-in boots. He looked good. Too good.

But the way his eyes darkened when they landed on you? That was something else entirely.

It was the same way he’d looked at you the night of the Christmas party, and that night, weeks ago, when you’d been dressed up for your date with Gary. His eyes had roamed over you just like this—like he couldn’t help himself. But this time, he didn’t just look.

He moved.

“You look…” He exhaled, stepping toward you, his gaze dragging over you from head to toe, slow and deliberate.

“Nice?” you teased, tilting your head playfully.

He shook his head. “Fucking edible.” His voice was low, rough, almost reverent.

Your breath caught just as his hands found your waist, strong fingers slipping around to the curve of your ass as he pulled you flush against him.

You gasped, palms landing against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your touch. His breath ghosted over your throat before he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. Your head tipped back on instinct, lips parting—

And then his mouth was trailing upward, over your jaw, toward your lips.

You barely had enough willpower to stop him, but you did, pressing a teasing finger against his mouth. “If we go there Winchester, you’ll ruin my makeup,” you tsked. “Do you know how long it took me to get these wings just right?” You fluttered your lashes to exemplify your neatly applied eyeliner.

Dean huffed humourlessly as you slipped away, and when you reached for your coat, you stretched just a little extra to give him an ample view of your ass, and he let out a low, suffering sound.

"Now that was just evil."

The moment you stepped inside the club, the atmosphere swallowed you whole. The place oozed luxury—dim lighting casting a sultry glow over everything, sleek leather booths, crystal-clear glasses lining the bar. Strobe lights pulsed in time with the deep bass of the music, filling the air with electric energy. It was packed but not overcrowded, just enough people to make it feel alive.

Gabe hadn’t been exaggerating—this was "the real deal".

As you and Dean were escorted upstairs to the VIP section, familiar faces came into view. Your friends were already gathered, drinks in hand, and the moment they spotted you, a chorus of greetings erupted.

“Finally!” Gabe called sarcastically, throwing his arms wide like you’d kept him waiting for hours. “The guests of honour arrive.” He slung an arm around your shoulders as you reached him, grinning.

As usual, he looked effortlessly sharp—probably wearing something expensive but casually unbuttoned enough to make it seem like he didn’t care.

Benny let out a low whistle. “Look at you, Cher.” He took your hand, giving you a playful twirl before you swatted at him with a laugh.

Dean rolled his eyes, playing it off as if it didn’t bother him—but the slight clench of his jaw said otherwise.

Charlie was on you next, pulling you into a tight hug. “You look so hot,” she said, matter-of-factly, before glancing at Dean and smirking. “And you—predictable as always.” She snickered. She was always teasing Dean for his constant jean and shirt combos. 

Dean scoffed, placing a hand over his heart. “How dare you.”

“Only speaking facts Dean'o.” She winked before turning back to her drink before he could respond.

Cas then greeted you with a warm smile, pulling you into a brief but firm hug. He’d gotten over your little admission from a few nights ago, finding it more humourous than shocking.

“Took you guys long enough,” he chuckled, stepping back to greet Dean next.

Dean scoffed. “Would’ve been faster if she didn’t spend three hours getting ready.” He jabbed a thumb in your direction.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, elbowing him as you turned—only to be caught in a firm hug from Sam. He squeezed a little tighter than usual, enough to make you stumble slightly before he let go.

“Jesus, Moose, I like my ribs unbroken,” you teased, laughing as you steadied yourself.

Sam grinned, his cheeks flushed, clearly drunk. And Jess, tucked comfortably against his side, shook her head with an exasperated smile. “That’s only his second beer, by the way.”

Your brow shot up. “Wait, this is Sam on two beers?”

Dean, who had just walked over, gave his brother a look of sheer disappointment. “Now that’s just embarrassing.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Bitch.”

Dean smirked. “Jerk.”

You shook your head as Dean went off on a tangent about him being a lightweight, and then Jo looped her arm through yours, smirking. “See? And you doubted my taste.” She fingered the material of your dress.

She wasn’t wrong. You’d been unsure about the dress when you first pulled it from the rack, but Jo had insisted you would look “fucking hot.” Turns out, she knew what she was talking about.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right,” you admitted with a chuckle before taking her in fully. You let out a low whistle. “Damn, you look amazing, though.”

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “I know.” She did a little twirl, showing off the fitted red number that hugged her petite frame perfectly, paired with sleek, black heels that made her legs look impossibly long.

After finishing your hellos, you all settled into the large booth, conversation flowing as easily as the drinks, laughter and usual banter filled the air, with the deep bass of a generic pop beat pulsing around you.

The night had barely started, but already it felt like one you weren’t going to forget.

Tonight, everything was going to change. 

Four drinks in, and you were feeling the perfect buzz—light, warm, and just uninhibited enough to let loose. You’d spent the night bouncing between your friends, sipping your drinks, and genuinely enjoying yourself.

Even Dean, who had been hovering around you all evening, had somehow managed to pull you onto the dance floor for a little friendly—or maybe not-so-friendly—dancing.

His hands had settled on your hips, his breath warm against your ear as you moved together in a way that felt entirely too natural. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you had finally let yourself stop overthinking for once, but you’d melted into him. Your body responded to every little shift of his, and for a fleeting moment, you were certain he was going to make a move.

But the moment passed, and now here you were, walking toward the bar with him at your side, your skin still tingling from where his hands had rested.

Then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of humour, as you were walking, someone bumped into him, severing you connection with his hand on your waist. 

“Lisa?”

Just hearing her name made your stomach twist. It couldn't be? But then you turned, and were met with none other than Lisa Braeden. 

She wasn’t an ex, not really. She was more of a long-term hookup who had convinced herself she was something more—clinging, scheming, and bitter whenever Dean’s attention wasn’t solely on her. And if there was one thing Lisa had absolutely despised, it was you.

You weren’t just another girl in Dean’s life. You were his best friend. His constant. And Lisa had made it her personal mission to change that.

At first, it had been subtle—harmless jabs, little digs about how much time you and Dean spent together, passive-aggressive smiles whenever you ran into her in the morning after one of her nights with him. Then, it had escalated. Almost to the point you thought you were going to lose him.

Until he finally saw through her lies and games and ended it.

That was over three years ago. You hadn’t seen her since.

Dean stiffened beside you, clearly just as uncomfortable as you were, but ever the gentleman, he greeted her politely.

Lisa, for her part, had perfected the art of playing sweet. "Dean! Oh my God, what are the odds?" she gushed, her voice dripping in forced delight. Then her eyes landed on you, and for the briefest second, her smile faltered. It was so quick that anyone else might not have noticed—but you weren’t anyone else.

"Y/N, hi! Long time, huh?"

The way she said it, so full of faux surprise, like she genuinely didn’t expect you to still be around, made your jaw clench.

Before you could react, she pulled you into a hug, her arms looping around you as if you were long-lost friends. You stood there, stiff and uncomfortable, before awkwardly patting her back. She smelled expensive, and the hug lasted a beat too long, like she was staking a claim.

She pulled back with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“How crazy is it to run into you guys here?” she giggled, as if this was some fateful, cosmic coincidence.

Crazy was one word for it. 

Dean, to his credit, looked wary. “How are things?” he asked, remaining polite but distant.

Lisa exhaled a dramatic little sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Really great! Just out with my girlfriends.” She gestured across the room to a group of women who were now very obviously staring at you. Their once-casual chatter had paused, and you caught the way they were looking at you—up and down, sizing you up. Judging.

Your frown deepened. What the hell was their problem?

Lisa, completely ignoring the awkwardness, continued. "Look, I know things ended a little… unorthodox.” She huffed out a small laugh, clearly struggling to even admit that much. “I was young. I was going through a lot. I know that doesn’t excuse how I acted, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Her voice was soft, just the right amount of remorseful. The kind of apology that made you pause.

It sounded genuine, and had you second guessing yourself. 

Yet, call it experience, or PTSD but, something about this didn’t sit right.

Dean, on the other hand, softened instantly. You saw the shift in his expression, the flicker of guilt. “It’s in the past now,” he said, his tone warmer than you expected.

Lisa’s smile stretched a little too wide, and continued. "Honestly, I knew what I was getting into," she said, shaking her head as if this was all just some big misunderstanding. "You were honest with me from the start. I was the one who took things too far, let my feelings get the better of me."

Dean, being Dean, laid a comforting hand on her arm.

And just like that, jealousy flared in your chest, sharp and hot.

“For old times sake, how about I buy you both a drink?” Lisa offered, though you had a feeling that the invitation extended to you was merely for show.

Dean, to your utter disbelief, nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You blinked at him. Was he serious?

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, but you forced yourself to play it cool. This was just Dean being Dean—letting his martyr complex get the better of him. He wasn’t an idiot. He remembered what she was like.

Right?

Still, you had no desire to sit through a drink with her.

“You know what? You guys go ahead,” you said, forcing a light chuckle. “I need to talk to Jo about something. Sister things.” You lied, flailing a hand with a nervous chuckle, trying to appear casual, and not like you were screaming internally.

Dean frowned slightly, like he didn’t quite buy it, but you waved him off. “I’ll meet you after?” you added, your voice softer now, laced with an unspoken meaning.

A promise.

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, okay.” His gaze lingered, but before either of you could say anything else, Lisa placed a hand on his arm, effectively snapping the moment in half.

You turned on your heel and left, already feeling the unease settling deep in your stomach.

You slipped into the bathroom, the heavy door swinging shut behind you, sealing you away from the noise of the party. For a brief moment, you just stood there, taking in what was probably the most upscale restroom you’d ever stepped foot in—marbled countertops, gold intricate designs, glossy floors reflecting the soft glow of chandelier lights. It was a little excessive, but your mind was elsewhere.

Your heart was still hammering, and not from the alcohol or dancing this time. You took a slow breath, forcing yourself to move toward the sink, gripping the cool edge of the counter as you met your own reflection in the mirror.

Your makeup was still intact despite the hours of laughter and sweat from dancing with your friends, but your expression was harder to ignore. You looked composed on the outside, but the longer you stared, the more the old doubts crept in, seeping through the cracks, flooding you with unwanted memories from three years ago.

How Lisa started twisting things, planting doubts in Dean’s head, feeding him lies about you. You weren’t sure what her end goal was, but it was clear she didn’t want you in his life.

Things only seemed to worsen the moment you’d met Patrick—the cute paramedic who patched Jo up after she sprained her wrist at some roller disco she’d dragged you to, during oner of her ‘let’s try something new’ phases.

He’d been sweet and funny, and you were single, so when he'd asked for your number, you’d said yes. 

However, you’d notice then Dean had started pulling away, and that was when Lisa’s visits became more frequent. He began questioning things you’d never said or done. And it was like she used this thing with Patrick. Twisted it. Made it sound like you were the one who had been pulling away from him! And Dean, already caught up in whatever spell she had over him, had let her. 

It hurt like hell, knowing he even considered believing her. 

Thankfully, things ended between them, but your friendship had taken a hit, one that took a long time to mend. But Dean had put in the work and you trusted him, you knew he knew better than to entertain her advances again. 

Right? 

The door swung open then, the noise of the party briefly flooding in before being muffled again. You turned just as Jo, Charlie, and Jess walked in, laughing to themselves—until their eyes landed on you. Jo’s face immediately shifted to concern as she closed the distance between you.

“Hey, you good?” she asked, her grip steady on your arm as she scanned your face.

You tried to nod, brush it off, but you couldn’t.

Jess and Charlie flanked you on either side, their worry evident, and before you could stop yourself, it all came pouring out.

Your feelings for Dean. The arrangement. The plan to finally tell him at midnight.

Charlie, of course, already knew—she had sussed it out at your work Christmas party. But Jo? The knowing smirk creeping up on her lips told you she wasn’t surprised.

“I mean, it took you long enough to finally fucking realise,” she huffed, shaking her head at you.

Despite your stress, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“I swear you’ve been in love with the kid since he went all superhero on your ass and carried you home after you broke your arm.” She teased.

Jess, who hadn’t heard this story before, let out a dreamy sigh. “Wait, that’s so cute.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately.

You could still remember it—twelve years old, being the little daredevil that you were,  climbing to the highest point of the brand-new jungle gym at the park, daring yourself to stand on top of the structure. Instead, you had lost your balance and tumbled down, landing hard with a sickening crack in your arm.

You had cried that time, the pain overwhelming, but then there was Dean—his freckled face scrunched in worry, and he scooped you up without hesitation, carrying you the entire block back to his house, muttering assurances the whole way.

“That’s not everything,” you sighed, your stomach twisting. “Lisa’s here. And she’s with Dean.”

Silence.

Then, in perfect unison—

“What!?”

Charlie and Jo’s reactions were instant. They had been there when you almost lost Dean to that possessive, manipulative woman. Jo, in particular, had been the first to knock some sense into him—literally. She had tackled him at the Roadhouse one night, launching into a tirade that made half the bar stare. It had worked, though. Had given Dean the wake-up call he needed.

You quickly recounted the whole interaction—bumping into Lisa at the bar, her invitation to drinks, and your hasty retreat to the bathroom.

Charlie gaped at you, scandalised. “And you let him just go with her?!”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I didn’t want to cause a scene. And she seemed… I don’t know, genuinely sorry.”

Even as you said it, the words felt flimsy—like an excuse rather than an explanation.

Jo crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Y/N. Come on. You and I both know Lisa’s full of shit.”

“You know what she’s like,” Charlie added, her voice softer now. “You can’t really believe she’s suddenly had a change of heart.”

You sighed, fingers tightening on the sink. “I don’t know, maybe” you shrugged sheepishly.

The two of them didn’t look convinced. And, honestly?

You weren't sure you were either, but you were not about to let it get the better of you. In the last three years you had changed a lot, and maybe Lisa had to. 

“Look, I trust Dean,” you continued, firmer now. “And if I start telling him who he can and can’t talk to—making his decisions for him—then I’m no better than her.”

Jo exhaled through her nose, clearly still displeased.

“Just please,” you added, levelling her with a look, “don’t make a scene.”

You aimed that more at Jo than Charlie.

She scowled, arms still crossed, but when you took her hands in yours and gave her your best pleading look, she let out a dramatic sigh.

“Fine,” she huffed.

You smiled a little, despite everything, grateful for these women in your life—your protectors.

“But,” Jo added, pointing a firm finger at you, “if she so much as breathes wrong, I’m throwing hands.”

Charlie grinned. “And I’ll be right behind her.”

You laughed, shaking your head, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

The girls left the bathroom before you, with your promise to meet them back at the booth, while you actually did use the facilities. You did a quick fix-up of your makeup, fluffed out your hair, and blew out a deep breath.

You got this. You prepped yourself, even if it was fragile.

With that, you slipped out the door, making your way down the short hall toward the main room, when you suddenly stopped short. Familiar voices drifted from around the corner—low, intimate, just barely audible over the music.

“Do you not miss it?” You recognised Lisa’s voice. Soft, almost wistful as she continued. “Miss us?”

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you crept closer, and peered around the corner, your stomach dropping when you spotted Dean. However, curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't help yourself as you pressed your back against the cool wall and listened.

Dean hesitated. Just for a second. But it was long enough for something sharp to wedge itself between your ribs.

“I’ll admit, we had a good time.” His voice was even, maybe even reluctant, but it wasn’t an outright no.

Lisa took a step closer—close enough that you could feel the way she was invading his space, twirling her hair, tilting her chin up at him like she already knew the answer. “But?” she prompted.

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We weren’t right for each other, Lis’.” 

“But now?” she pushed, almost desperate. “I’ve changed, Dean. I know I messed up before, but love makes you do crazy things sometimes.”

Did she just drop the L-bomb?

Silence.

You swore you could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Dean didn’t immediately shut her down. Didn’t laugh in her face or tell her to fuck off the way you wanted him to. Instead, another long pause stretched between them, weighted and thick, and it felt like the air had been sucked from your lungs.

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head, and you could see the way Lisa took that as something more than it was—an opening, a possibility.

She reached for his arm, fingers just barely skimming his sleeve. “We were good together. I know you know that too.”

Your stomach churned.

Dean still wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t moving away fast enough, and you waited, silently begged for him to deny it.

Then suddenly, a loud commotion shattered the moment.

A group of rowdy guys stumbled through the hall, their voices cutting through the tension like a blade. A few of them stopped as they passed, giving you once-overs and whistling appreciatively. You rolled your eyes, but it drew attention to your presence.

“Y/N?”

You closed your eyes briefly but decided to pretend you hadn’t just had your heart ripped out and stepped on. Instead, you turned with a smile, masking the pain of the knife in currently penetrating your heart.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Dean breathed out, clearly still shaking off that conversation as you stepped up next to him.

Lisa’s expression barely wavered, but you caught the flicker of irritation before she forced a tight smile.

“Yeah, just needed to use the restroom,” you said smoothly. “Was on my way back to you guys.” It wasn’t a lie—you just left out the eavesdropping part.

Dean nodded, glancing at Lisa before placing a guiding hand on your back. His touch was warm, grounding, but you ignored it as you started toward the booth. Lisa’s footsteps following close behind.

When you got back to the table, Jo immediately clocked Lisa trailing behind you, her expression darkening as she leaned back in the booth. “Oh. Great,” she deadpanned.

Lisa’s seemingly ignored her comment, her smile all faux sweetness. “Hey, Jo.”

Jo didn’t return the greeting, just took a slow sip of her drink and side-eyed you.

Lisa cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly. “My friends kinda ditched me,” she explained. “Dean said I was welcome to join you guys.”

Jo’s head snapped toward Dean so fast you thought she might give herself whiplash. She looked at him like he’d just told her he ran over her dog.

Then, she turned to you, eyes blazing.

Are you fucking kidding me? You silently read.

You gave a subtle shake of your head. Don’t.

Jo clenched her jaw but said nothing.

With all the seats taken, the only available spot was next to Dean. You hesitated for half a second before sliding in beside him. The second you did, he shifted closer, his knee pressing against yours like he could sense your unease.

Conversations flowed easily enough. Benny, Cas, and Gabe didn’t hold anything against Lisa—they hadn’t been in the trenches of that breakup, didn’t know all the details. Even Sam, while clearly unimpressed, was too drunk and too wrapped up in Jess to care much.

But Dean’s attention was on you.

Even while he spoke with the others, even as Lisa tried to inject herself into conversations, his focus never fully left you. Every so often, his knee would bump yours, or his fingers would drum lightly against the table like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself.

Then, like he couldn't hold back any longer, a warm hand found your thigh under the table.

Your breath caught at the initial touch, but you didn’t move away.

Dean leaned in then, his voice low, meant only for you. “Sorry about this,” he murmured. “She looked kinda lost, and I felt guilty ditching her too.” 

Of course he did.

Dean Winchester, the ever-obliging martyr. It didn’t matter how shitty someone had been to him, how much hurt they left in their wake—he was a firm believer in forgiveness, good karma and all that. And God only knows what tale she'd spun in your abscence to get him to feel sorry for her.

Maybe it was that hero complex of his, or maybe he just didn’t know how to say no without carrying guilt like a weight around his neck. He was just a good person, how could you fault him for that?

But you didn’t believe for a second that Lisa had been truly abandoned, however, Dean was already looking at you, like he wanted your silent approval, and what were you supposed to do? Call her bluff? Make a scene?

Yes. Came Jo's snappish tone. But unfortunately, you didn't have the backbone like your tough nut sister.

So, instead, you plastered on a neutral smile and nodded. “It’s okay.” 

The smile he gave you made your insides warm. And the longer his hand rested on your thigh, the more those earlier doubts started to fade.

Because even now, even with Lisa sitting on his other side, trying to worm her way back in, Dean was still here, still touching you, still looking at you like nothing had changed.

Like everything was okay.

At least, that’s what you hoped. 

With just thirty minutes left until the new year, one of the waiters approached your group, a polite smile on his face as he announced, “VIP guests will now be escorted to the rooftop for the fireworks display.”

A collective cheer rippled through the group, excitement buzzing in the air as you all stood, gathering your coats and drinks before following the designated path.

The moment you stepped outside, the winter air bit at your skin, crisp and invigorating, but the sight before you was enough to steal your breath.

The rooftop was strung with fairy lights, casting a warm glow against the dark sky. Tall fire pits flickered, evenly spaced around the terrace, drawing groups of people together for warmth. Beyond the railing, you could see the setup for the fireworks display—rows of canons lined up on a separate platform, ready to light up the night sky.

But what really caught your attention was the oversized digital clock hanging above the terrace bar, its bright red numbers ticking down the final minutes of the year.

Twenty-seven minutes.

It was almost time.

No going back now.

More drinks were ordered, more laughter spilled into the air as everyone settled in, chatting, toasting to the last stretch of the year. Benny handed you a fresh glass of the complementary champagne with a wink, and you took a grateful sip, trying to steady the anxious flutter in your stomach.

But no matter how much you tried to focus on the moment, your eyes kept drifting to him.

Dean stood near one of the fire pits, beer in hand, laughing at something Gabe had said. The glow of the flames cast golden highlights over his face, making his freckles stand out, his green eyes flickering in the light. You wanted to be next to him, to get a quiet moment alone before the countdown.

But Lisa was always there.

She hovered just close enough to be a presence, laughing at his jokes, lightly touching his arm when she talked, making sure she was never too far. Never giving you the opportunity to slide in beside him, to steal him away for even a second.

It was grating, the way she lingered, the way she acted like she belonged there.

You turned back to the girls, fingers tightening around the stem of your glass.

Jo nudged you. “Hey,” she said softly, reading your expression in an instant. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Charlie nodded, her confidence unwavering. “You and Dean? This is happening. There's no way the universe would let all this all go to waste.” She slurred a little, here finger flicking between you and Dean. You held her finger when it got too close to your face and chuckled.

“Exactly." Jo cut in. "You two are meant to be. You need to ignore her. Better yet, I can gag and hog tie her if you need me too?” She suggested so seriously you were almost worried she would. 

“Jesus, Jo.” You huffed out a laugh with a shake of your head and she just shrugged.

“Then you get it done.” She points at you like a scolding mother.

Their reassurances soothed some of your nerves, but the weight in your chest remained. There was still time. Still a chance to pull him away, to get him alone before the moment hit.

One minute.

People started gathering closer to the centre of the terrace, positioning themselves near the railing for the best view of the fireworks. The crowd thickened, bodies pressing in as excitement filled the air.

You turned, eyes locking on Dean. He was near the edge of the group, still by the fire pit, but the crowd had shifted, pushing in, blocking your path.

Then the last ten seconds began.

Ten.

Your heartbeat matched the ticking clock, pulsing in your throat as you pushed through, weaving between bodies.

Nine.

You caught glimpses of him—his profile in the flickering firelight, the curve of his mouth as he took a sip of his beer, the way he turned his head, scanning the crowd—was he looking for you?

Eight.

You pushed forward, murmuring apologies as you squeezed between groups, your heart hammering now, thundering in your ears.

Seven.

The crowd was thick, voices rising in anticipation, the excitement electric. You were so close now. Just a few more steps.

Six.

Dean was right there, only a foot away. He turned slightly, and your breath caught. His gaze flickered over the crowd, past Lisa, eyes searching. And then-

Five,

Your stomach twisted.

Four

Lisa shifted closer to him.

Three.

She reached for his collar—

Two.

Pulled him down—

One.

Happy New Year!

The crowd erupted in cheers, firework cannons popped, and before you could blink, before you could breathe—

Lisa kissed him.

Right in front of you.

The fireworks exploded overhead, but the ringing in your ears drowned them out. Everything slowed, blurred—the pop of champagne bottles, the chorus of laughter, the flashes of light against the midnight sky—

All you could see was Dean.

Lisa’s hands curled around his jacket, her lips pressed against his. And Dean? Dean wasn’t pushing her away fast enough.

Your stomach lurched as the cheers continued, voices blending into a muffled hum, but it didn’t matter.

Because suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

AN: Okay, please don't hate me! 😅 I know it's a shitty way to end it, but there will be more to come in the next chapter! 💕

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell @nancymcl @happyfxckinghorrors @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @fangirlingfromdownunder @star-yawnznn @piptoost @shadysoulangel @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @waynes-multiverse @jaredpadonlyyyy @impala67stellawinchester @bonbonnie88 @youroldfashioned @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes @rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

Next Time...

Dean hailed a cab, his adrenaline pumping. Gabe had informed him with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder—which only made him worry more, since Gabe wasn’t usually a sentimental guy—that you’d left with Charlie, Jo, even Jess and Sam. His knee bounced impatiently as the city lights blurred past. Fireworks still crackled in the distance, each explosion a hollow echo of the pounding in his chest. People were celebrating fresh starts, new beginnings. Meanwhile, he hadn’t even made it an hour into the year before fucking everything up. By the time the cab rolled up to his apartment, he didn’t bother waiting for change, ignoring the driver’s protests as he bolted inside. “Y/N?” He called the second he was through the door. Silence answered. His stomach dropped. He searched the apartment—kitchen, bedroom, even the damn bathroom—each empty room twisting the knife deeper. With a curse, he yanked out his phone, dialling your number as he paced the living room, teeth sinking into his thumb. “Hey.” His body sagged in relief—until— “Psych! You’ve reached my voicemail. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can.”