#I’ve lost a t shirt :/
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#my art#ethoslab#t-shirt that says I ❤️ LOW CONTRAST#ach i’ve done it i’ve drawn a character so many times they’ve lost their distinguishing features#anyways shoutout to that one vh helmet for giving me so much mileage
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#well I can no longer tease Keith for being/looking obliviously in love with his bff#I think I’ve mentioned before that a big part of the reason I’m going to Taiwan this summer#is b/c my best friend from LSE lives there#we met the first week of university and it all just went from there#(rare for both of us b/c we’re introverted)#anyway#after I moved to the US for grad school#and she moved back to Taiwan to work for a bit and figure out what she wanted to do her MA in#we started sending each other care packages#(before this we used to bring each other stuff back from home during breaks )#((we also meet on zoom every week for a few hours to talk + watch movies))#they’re pretty good sized boxes with (mostly) food and also books and weird t-shirts/clothes and all of that kind of stuff#we’re quite good at this point at getting stuff the other will like#(I always trawl Trader Joe’s for interesting things I think she’ll enjoy. she got me 5 different flavors of salted plum from an indie#company in Taipei because she knows I love ume)#we always put notes for each other in the boxes too#I send hers to her parents house because it’s easier to have packages shipped to there than in her small flat share in Taipei#and her mom (with her permission) sometimes opens them and takes out something for herself to try#what I didn’t know until today#is that her mom also takes out the notes to put on her desk so they don’t get lost#and she’s been hinting to my friend more and more over the past 2 years that it’s okay if she’s ‘not into boys’ and her parents will support#her no matter who she dates (which is very sweet)#now I’m coming in less than a week#and when my friend was visiting home this weekend she took her aside and told her#that she didn’t have to introduce me as her friend and she could openly say I’m her partner of 2+ years#which (again) would be very sweet#if I were actually her girlfriend#I’m not#and I’m having dinner with her parents at some point in the next few weeks#my life is a bad sitcom
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A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.
Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.8k (wild)
A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.
“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”
Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.
But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were.
Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.
Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-
Click!
“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”
Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.
If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.
It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.
“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”
It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself.
Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”
You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”
And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”
“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”
Oh?
And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door.
Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”
Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment.
That is, until-
“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”
“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”
You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”
So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes.
Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-”
“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”
You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”
“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”
Fuck.
Was that what he thought it was?
His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.
“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”
It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with.
Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”
And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet.
“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs.
“Wh-what are you-”
“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”
He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch.
“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.
Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet?
“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips.
You were captivating.
At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”
“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”
“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”
Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing.
Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”
As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).
But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady.
“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”
He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”
“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”
If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra.
“Ken~”
“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.”
Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more.
He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”
Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet.
“Let me, instead.” he grunts.
But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem.
A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer.
“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-”
Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants.
“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”
Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”
And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face.
But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”
As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.
“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”
And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you.
“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”
You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”
And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be.
“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo.
He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously.
And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”
At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”
“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.
And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”
But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt.
“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.”
“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”
He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.
And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him.
“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”
Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length.
You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”
And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise.
Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.
“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth.
Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like?
“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”
He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”
You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat.
He looks so pretty it makes you moan.
Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls.
“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to
him all the while.
“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis.
Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”
And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy.
Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil.
Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does.
Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”
He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”
“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”
In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right - Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you.
With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss.
“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”
Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now.
“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”
“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.”
It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses.
Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole.
You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-”
“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”
Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.
His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-
“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”
But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut.
And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-”
The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore.
“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”
“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”
And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”
He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”
You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.
Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier.
“Is that so?”
It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”
And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-
“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-”
In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”
The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds.
“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”
Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there.
Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?
It’s what he likes to think.
It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside.
“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–”
At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”
“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”
“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”
Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”
You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy.
Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice.
“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”
“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”
He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second.
In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”
“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”
You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were.
“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”
Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.
Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”
So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy.
Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.
Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-
So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock.
Over and over.
Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt.
Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled.
By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-
And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.
“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”
A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3
Plagiarism of work not authorized.
#nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#nanami kento#tonywrites#nanami
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actually tiny thing this time that I would just like to complain about so I can go to bed :/
#I’ve lost a t shirt :/#I’m at home rn and going back to uni tomorrow morning and bc I knew it’d be hard to keep track of clothes (I left some behind last time)#I made a list of everything I brought. and I have it! except for this one specific t shirt#it’s not special!! it just fits nice and I would like it back especially for summer#but it has gone missing and it’s not in any of the places I’ve looked#and for. ~3 hours? mild anxiety abt that bc I get rlly weird abt losing things#there’s a reason I made a list and why I don’t let my siblings borrow my shit long term#anyway it not being anywhere means it’s with one of my siblings clothes except they’re both stubborn fucking bastards and either#1. insane levels of teenage boy thinking he’s better than everyone 2. deciding she fucking hates me and has been treating me like dirt#at best. like just pointedly not looking at me and sneering when she does and that’s when she’s being NICE#anyway point is neither of them! obviously! are going to check even though that is literally the one place left where it could be#and fucking fine! whatever!! it’s a t shirt!! but why the fuck can you not do something so incredibly small#and it does not help that my mum (who has been doing the laundry the past few days) got rlly defensive and snappy abt it#it calmed down and she helped me look but just. ughshdsgjdhdh#I hate losing things so much I can’t deal with it but. whatever I can buy more t shirts I needed to anyway this just WAS one of the new ones#idk where to leave this I’m just >:/#really frustrating situation and I can acknowledge that and let it sit until it passes#or smth. trying to figure out how to not be telling myself it’s fine all the time#anyway. sleep now#luke.txt
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NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit
This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.
Rating: E (18+)
Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other
A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)
“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”
You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”
Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.
Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.
“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.
“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”
“How?” Patrick asked.
Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”
Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.
With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.
“What?” You asked with a frown.
“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”
You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.
His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.
The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.
Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.
Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”
You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.
“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.
Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.
And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.
Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.
You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”
“Good,” Patrick said.
At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”
Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.
“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.
Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”
You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.
He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”
You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.
“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”
Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.
Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.
Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.
You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.
“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”
You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.
He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”
Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”
You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.
“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”
Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.
He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.
And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.
And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”
Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.
Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.
“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”
He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.
Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.
Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.
Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.
“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.
“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.
They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”
#and when they bring Tashi in to teach her to ask for what she wants then what????#if u want me to continue this……. please god please keep sending me reqs for this au#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#my writing#art donaldson#patrick zweig#challengers fanfic#challengers x reader
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Their reaction to you asking to cockwarm for the first time 😩
COCKWARMING ATEEZ
PAIRING — ateez x reader
GENRE — smut, romance, established relationship, boyfriend!ateez, fem bodied!reader, sub!reader, soft dom!ateez
WARNINGS — smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming, semi public sex (hong’s studio), dirty talk//sexual language, intentional lower case and small font, intentional word abbreviations
WORD COUNT — 2.3k
SUMMARY — cockwarming ateez for the first time.
HONGJOONG
“so…just sit on it?”
hongjoong closed his eyes and inhaled. he was obviously growing impatient, what with his work needing to be done and his cock resting between your thighs, throbbing with need to get inside you. he held his cock and rubbed its head against your slick folds. “yes, baby. sit on it.”
the fabric of his t shirt crumpled in your fists as you braced yourself against him. you slipped down his length, sheathing it in your warmth. you both sighed, him at your tightness, and you at the stretch. instinctually your hips began to move, but a hand at your thigh quickly halted you.
“f-fuck,” he groaned, glaring down at his hand on your thigh like he wanted to do anything than keep you from bouncing on him. hongjoong swallowed while his thumb rubbed circles into your skin. “just sit. you gotta warm it. stay still while i work, okay?”
you huffed and leaned into his chest petulantly. two seconds into trying cockwarming for the first time and you already hated it. you wanted to move, needed to. his cock, nestled so deep inside, was brushing against that gummy spot; if you could just move, it’d feel so good. by this time he’d normally be pounding into you with reckless abandon, giving into what you both craved. right now, he was still, his arms around you as he busied himself with whatever it was he was working on. despite his cock being buried to the hilt in your cunt, he paid you no mind.
it wasn’t long before you were unable to withstand it any longer. you rocked your hips over his lap, whimpered into his ear that wasn’t covered with his headphones, and moaned his name weakly. and just when you thought he had a resolve of steel, his hips rutted upwards. “fuck it,” hongjoong cursed under his breath just as his hands found purchase on your hips, holding you still while his hips snapped into you repeatedly. “we’ll try again next time.”
SEONGHWA
“this piece, and t-this piece…” seonghwa’s deep voice was hoarse with need. and even as he thought aloud, trying to keep his mind together, he just couldn’t focus on the task at hand. he cursed, dropping the lego pieces onto the table. “fuck, baby, can’t i just –” he bucked his hips in a wordless plea.
you bit your lip to stifle a moan. you picked up the pieces again, offering them to him. “no, gotta stay still. it’s the whole point of cockwarming. now, finish building your set. you’re almost done.” you were sat atop him with your back to him. you watched his hands from each side of your form take the lego pieces again and resume what he had been doing.
seonghwa rested his chin on your shoulder. “this would be so much easier if i could focus, you know.” his fingers skillfully put the set together, the sight almost hypnotic to you.
“you don’t look like you’re having a hard time,” you replied, but were quickly reminded of the very hard cock nestled inside you.
he laughed and groaned at the same time, his breath fanning across your cheek. goosebumps scattered on your skin. seonghwa’s lips were against your ear then. “maybe…maybe i could take a little break, come back to this when i’ve cleared my head a little…” a hand slid down to where you were joined, his thumb pressing into your clit.
the clench around him was immediate, and you both almost lost all resolve right then and there. it was so tempting to just let him fuck you, even bend you over this table. but you weren’t going to back down, not yet. “keep working, just a little more. i promise you’ll get to fuck me. soon.”
the lego set was soon forgotten…
YUNHO
“yunho, please…” your cry fell on deaf ears, or rather, your cry simply did not penetrate the large headphones atop his head. you whimpered, cheek smooshed into his chest as you straddled him. he remained oblivious to you, too caught up in his video game. even with you wrapped around his thick cock, he was much more concerned with defeating his on screen opponents than fucking you. cockwarm me, he said. it’ll be fun, he said. you cursed him in your head.
you sat up straight, your face to his, effectively blocking his view of the computer screen. yunho was able to look over your shoulder with ease thanks to his larger frame, and this only fueled your annoyance more. you opted to trail kisses down his jaw, thinking that surely this would grab his attention. but no, it didn’t. the only sign he was even remotely affected was the slow bob of his adam’s apple. you groaned, and with no other option coming to mind, you took matter into your own hands and began bouncing on his lap, fucking yourself on his cock.
god, it felt good. so good. and you savored the sweet torture of his cock stretching your walls over and over, at least that was until one of his long arms wrapped around your frame to still you. you looked up at him to find that he was looking down at you, finally giving you attention for the first time since you’d been on him.
“what do you think you’re doing?” yunho had now paused his game, your bounces on his cock too much of a distraction. “I thought i told you to warm my cock while I played, not fuck yourself on it.”
“your game was taking too long, and –”
“and what? is my poor baby getting needy, huh?” yunho put his controller aside to hold your waist with both hands. with his full attention now on you, and that familiar dark look in his eyes, you didn’t feel as brazen as before. he chuckled, grinding his hips into yours in a way that had you melting in his arms. “well, if you wanted my attention so bad, now you have it. just remember you asked for this, baby.”
YEOSANG
“so…we just lay here?” yeosang’s voice was low in your ear, barely a whisper as you both payed attention to the movie. you were both on the couch, with him behind you and you settled comfortably in front of him. and his cock stuffed fully inside your cunt.
“yeah,” you said, and when you readjusted yourself, you pressed him further inside, making the poor man behind you groan.
“okay,” he started, strong arm tightening around you. he sounded winded, like he was struggling not to fuck you. which he definitely was, your tight walls tempting him to move. “but if we’re gonna do this, try not to move. please.”
the need in his velvety voice went straight to your core, and god, you almost caved at the sound. you weren’t fairing much better than him, but you at least wanted to give this a try. “okay, i’ll try.”
you managed to get through most of the movie with neither of you moving. his cock was still rock hard, and you were still so wet. your mind began to go numb, only occupied with thoughts of him, the movie a mere blur to you. it was getting closer to the end, and the end meant that finally he could move, could fuck you.
you intended to make it, to wait until you saw the credits that signaled the close of the movie, but yeosang’s hand pressing against your tummy showed that he had other plans. his hips moved tentatively back and forth; it was enough to make you both sigh out in pleasure. “i think,” he spoke between small ruts, “we’re close enough to the end.”
you nodded. “i think so too…” you rolled your rear against him for more friction.
“fucking finally.” there was a symphony of relieved moans at that first deep thrust of his hips.
SAN
san landed on top of you in a heap, panting heavily while he kissed your temple. your arms remained around his neck while you both came down from the high, your sweaty skin sticking together. “i love you.”
“i love you, too.” you kissed his shoulder. moments later he made to get off you, but you cried aloud, limbs wrapping around his body to keep him close. “stay inside of me.”
san laughed as his forehead rested against yours. “stay inside? but why? i’m all…soft now.”
“wanna cockwarm you. just for a little while.”
san was already inclined to do as you asked, but your pretty eyes looking up at him so cutely did him in. “okay. i’ll stay inside, baby.” san remained within you, but moved you both to lay on your sides for more comfort. his arms wrapped around you protectively.
you were content to pass the time listening to his heartbeat and revel in the intimacy of the moment. there was the occasional pillow talk over the most random things, soft giggles, and sweet kisses. sweet kisses that began to linger, grow deeper, and hands tangling in hair and soft sighs filling the air. the heated energy from before returned, and you felt the way san’s cock began to grow inside your walls.
you moaned, and san laughed, throwing your leg over his hip and thrusting. “i think i see why you wanted me to stay inside.”
you smiled as he began to fuck you, fully hard cock pushing you further towards your second orgasm of the night.
MINGI
“baby, i can’t sleep like this…”
“mingi, please,” you whined. “do it for me.” your boyfriend shifted behind you, large hands gripping your hips tightly. his cock was deep, already positioned to hit that sweet spot inside you if he only moved.
“how can i sleep when you’re so tight around me?” mingi was restless, your tight cunt the only thing occupying his mind. he was much too aroused to even attempt to find sleep. he was throbbing, the need to fuck you so intense it was unbearable. “I don’t even know why you wanted to do this in the first place.”
“mingi…” you huffed and fixed the pillow under your head, trying to not move your lower half at all. “just be still then if you can’t sleep.”
“you’re acting like you don’t inwardly want me to fuck you right now.”
“this isn’t about fucking.”
“like hell it isn’t,” mingi grumbled, starting to pull his hips back to thrust into you, but stopping himself. you didn’t make a sound, but the way you clenched around him told him everything. “your pussy is fluttering around me, begging to be fucked.”
when he pushed into your backside, you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped you. you heard him laugh behind you.
he kissed your neck. “what was that?”
you rolled your eyes though he couldn’t see. “okay, stop the teasing and just fuck me, will you?”
mingi thrusted into you forcefully. you cried out, barely catching your breath before he was moving again. “gladly.”
WOOYOUNG
“oh my god, wooyoung!” you cried into his neck, fists balling his shirt.
“feels good, yeah?” wooyoung kissed the top of your head while his thumb busied itself with your clit, rubbing smooth circles against the sensitive bud. you were spasming around his cock, so obviously close to cumming.
“this isn’t how it’s done,” you whined. “i’m just – fuck – supposed to warm your cock.”
“you are baby, but you never said i couldn’t rub your clit.” wooyoung was smug, staying completely still just like you asked him to despite him currently working you towards the edge. “you don’t want me to stop, do you?”
your head shook vigorously. “no! m’so close! so close!”
wooyoung smirked. “that’s what i thought.” his thumb was constant, steady rhythm on your bundle of nerves making you spiral in his lap.
“w-wooyoung, fuck!” your orgasm rushed through you, and you came hard around his still cock. you barely heard his low groan through the haze of your high.
“god, so tight, baby.” wooyoung gripped your hips, slamming you down onto him. “now it’s my turn to cum.”
JONGHO
“you’re so pretty when you’re full of my cock.”
jongho’s nasty words were punctuated by the sight of you in the mirror, splayed between his legs, your thighs open, and cunt stuffed full of his thick cock. you moaned, back arching and hips moving in search of friction. “jongho, please. fuck me.”
“not yet, i wanna admire you warming my cock some more.” his eyes found yours in the mirror, and he chuckled at the neediness in your gaze. “you can wait just a little while longer, can’t you?”
that was a stupid question only meant to tease you. he knew you couldn’t. he knew how desperate you were. you were leaking all around him, pussy begging for him to move. “i’ve already been waiting so long…”
“and you’ve been doing so good,” jongho praised with a kiss to your temple. “please just let me keep you like this for a little bit more. you’re just so pretty like this. i think we need to do this more often, baby. don’t you think so?”
you only whined in desperation. “I don’t wanna cockwarm you anymore, just want you to fuck me.”
jongho pinched your nipple, making you cry out. “so demanding,” he grunted. “if you want to cum at all tonight, you’ll stop whining, okay?”
you whimpered, but nodded anyway.
another kiss to your temple. “good, baby.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES — sooooo excited to finally have this posted 😩🙌🏻
TAG LIST — @abiaswreck @hongthoven @httpseungmxn @itza-meee @jungkookieprincess @jaerisdiction @lilie-dctl @mjyungi @marievllr-abg @mylovelymito @nebulousbookshelf @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @staytinyinmybpack @svintsandghosts @thesafecafe @wolfgurl2600-blog @5starduca
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ALL FICS ARE THE ORIGINAL IDEAS AND WRITTEN WORKS OF NATEEZFICS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. REPOSTING WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR NATEEZFICS IS PROHIBITED!
#ateez smut#ateez smut drabbles#ateez x reader#ateez fanfiction#ateez imagines#ateez scenarios#ateez reactions#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader
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have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.
Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.
You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.
You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.
The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.
It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.
Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.
All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#red hood x reader#red hood x you#remy writes 🖋️#I love him I love him I love him#you all don’t understand how much I love this man. ugh. why can’t he exist?!
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just thinking about rafe supporting his girlfriend to study early for exams (or atleast he tries to)
the first rays of dawn were just beginning to creep through the blinds, but you were already awake. the room was quiet, the faint sound of crickets outside the window the only noise cutting through the heavy stillness of the early morning. rafe’s arm was slung over your waist, his warm breath brushing against the back of your neck as he slept peacefully beside you.
it was 4:30 a.m., and while the rest of the world — including your boyfriend — was still lost in dreams, you were wide awake. the slight glow from your phone screen confirmed the time as your alarm buzzed softly, barely audible enough to disturb the comfortable silence. you slipped out from under rafe’s arm with practiced ease, careful not to wake him.
the cool air greeted you as your feet hit the wooden floor, and you shivered slightly, grabbing your hoodie from the back of the chair. you padded quietly to the bathroom, the door creaking just slightly as you pushed it closed. turning on the shower, you let the warm water pull you fully into wakefulness. this was your routine — an early morning start to clear your mind, grab some caffeine, and hit the books before the world intruded.
about 20 minutes later, you were freshly showered, hair damp and tied back, standing in the kitchen and cracking open a red bull. the fizz of the can sounded loud in the quiet house, and you winced slightly, glancing toward the hallway. you grabbed your laptop and notebook, ready to settle into your study corner. but just as you were about to take a seat, a low, groggy voice interrupted you.
“why are you up right now?”
you turned to see rafe standing in the doorway, his hair a mess of blonde waves and his eyes barely open as he squinted at you. he looked like he’d been pulled straight out of his dreams, his t-shirt hanging loose over his shoulders, and pajama pants sitting low on his hips.
“i have an exam, rafe,” you said softly, taking a sip from the winter edition red bull. “gotta get some studying done.”
he crossed the room and leaned over your chair, reading over your shoulder. “this can’t wait until, like, a normal hour?”
“nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’. “i’ve got an important exam in two days, and i’m way behind.”
“it’s four-something in the morning,” he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand and shuffling toward you. “come back to bed.”
you smiled at his disheveled appearance and the slight whine in his voice. “i can’t, rafe. i need to go over my notes. you go back to bed.”
he ignored you, plopping down on the couch beside your makeshift study setup. “nope. not leaving you to do this alone.” he yawned, throwing an arm around your shoulders lazily. “besides, you’re not supposed to start your day until the sun’s up. it's...like a law or something.”
“rafe—”
“shh,” he interrupted, grabbing your red bull and taking a sip before grimacing. “ew, that’s disgusting.”
“you’re ridiculous,” you said, laughing softly as he leaned his head against your shoulder.
“yeah, well, you love me,” he said with a lazy smirk, his eyes drifting shut again. “now keep studying. i’m just gonna...keep you company.”
he was snoring softly within minutes, his weight a comforting presence against your side. you smiled to yourself, shaking your head as you returned to your notes. even at four-something, rafe had a way of making you feel like you weren’t alone.
MASTERLIST
#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey#outer banks x reader
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getting rafe hooked on dress to impress
my fav thing i’ve ever written i can’t even lie
word count: 1.2k
obx masterlist
you yawned loudly and abnoxiously as you walked into rafe’s bedroom. you kicked your shoes off, grabbing one of rafe’s t-shirts from his drawer, changing out of your uncomfortable clothes. “didn’t think you were coming back, it’s late as fuck.” rafe said, looking at you oddly as he sat up on the bed against the headboard.
“longest fucking day of my life. need to unwind.”
rafe smirked, reaching his whole body over the bed to grab your forearm. "like the sound of that," he mumbles.
you let yourself move toward him, but you groan, “not like that.” rafe momentarily pouts, but doesn’t let go of your arm. in fact, he pulls you closer onto the bed with him urging you to cuddle up into him.
he snakes his arm around you, soft fingers tracing circles into your side. "wanna talk about it?"
you yawn and shake your head, "nah, can we just watch a movie or something?"
rafe nods, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. "you don't wanna watch some chick-flick do you?" he asks, grimacing already.
you sigh dramatically, “i guess not. fast and furious?”
rafe obligies, satisfied with your suggestion. you get comfortable on the bed, your head rested on rafe's shoulder and your phone rested on his chest as you scroll through tiktok.
about 20 minutes later, you see a video about the new halloween update on dress to impress and gasp before you can stop yourself. rafe jumps slightly, eyes wide. “jesus christ, what’s wrong?”
"sorry, nothing," you grin apologetically, "can I borrow your laptop though?"
he looks at you like you've lost your mind, but he still grabs his macbook from the nightstand, handing it over to you. you sit up excitedly, leaning up against the headboard.
you open the laptop and sign into your roblox account, side eyeing rafe as he gives you an odd look. "the fuck are you doing?"
"playing a game," you respond innocently.
he raises his eyebrows, "roblox? wheezie used to play that shit.. when she was 8," he says, judging you hardcore.
you glare at him, "you don't understand," you sigh. "just watch me play, it's genuinely fun."
he watches you click on dress to impress, making a disgusted face. "yeah I can't defend you on this one," he says and you shove his shoulder.
"well have you ever played dress to impress?" you ask him.
"obviously not," he says, his sassy side on full display.
"well don't judge then. just watch and i'll let you play a round when i'm done," you say with a smile, patting his cheek softly.
"hell nah," he says, directing his attention back to the movie.
you shake your head, giving up on getting him to play. you start a round, looking around at all the new pieces they added. the theme is holiday for your first round, so of course you do halloween.
you notice rafe's eyes on the computer screen as his curiosity clearly starts to creep back in despite himself. he watches as you piece together combination of a witch hat, spiderweb dress, and dark boots.
“what even is this shit?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly intrigued.
you grin, not taking your eyes off the screen since you only have a minute left. “you compete with other people to make the best outfit based on a theme. you'd be pretty good at it, you've got great style," you say, trying to persuade him.
he gives you a look, shaking his head, "sounds dumb as fuck," he says, and you just laugh. he's silent for a moment before turning slightly to have a better view of the screen, "so what you just like... dress them up and shit?"
you nod, watching the time run out. "yes, then everyone votes on each outfit and the top 3 get on the podium. see," you point to the screen, "the voting's starting now."
an outfit that's completely off theme struts down the runway and you grimace, "see like that one's ugly as fuck so i give it a 1. oooh look, this ones mine," you say with a proud smile. "doesn't she look great?"
rafe shrugs, "i guess."
you ended up getting third place, losing to two terrible outfits. you curse under your breath, before turning to him. “you wanna try a round?” you smile, looking up at him.
rafe scoffs, glancing back at the movie, but curiosity gets the better of him. “alright, fine, hand it over.” he takes the laptop.
"okay the theme is beach day," you tell him.
he hums in response, looking around at the clothes aimlessly. "rafe, you gotta pick something that actually matches,” you say, stifling a laugh as he pairs a yellow bikini top with neon green shorts.
"shh, I have a vision," he says, dismissing your words. "wait why the fuck doesn't she have a face?"
"you gotta go to the makeup and hair room, over there," you point at the screen.
he scrolls through the makeup options, finally decided on one. "mhm, she bad ain't she?" you chuckle, knowing rafe is secretly loving this.
time runs out just as he adds the coconut drink, and you see him watching the screen eagerly, waiting for the voting to end. one girl dressed in long pants and a jacket walks out and he looks over at you, disgusted, "this bitch didn't even look at the theme." all you can do is laugh and nod your head in agreement.
when rafe places second, he smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "ha," he says, "i did better than you."
you roll your eyes. "yeah you're done playing," you say, snatching the laptop back.
the next night, you texted rafe that you were gonna come over after your morning shift and you didn't get a response, which was odd. you let yourself into his house with the key he'd given you. "rafe?" you called out, walking into the living room. "you here?" no response.
you furrowed your eyebrows, walking up the stairs. maybe he was just in his room, you thought, taking a nap or something. you creak open his bedroom door, met with the scene of him sitting on his bed, looking intently at his laptop.
his eyes shoot up to look at you and he slams his laptop closed, guilty look in his eye. you raise your eyebrows, "what were you doing?" you question him, walking toward the bed.
he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head. "nothin.'"
your eyes narrow, "were you watching porn?" you joke, sitting down next to him.
he sighs, "worse.." he trails off. he mentally debates for a minute, before pulling his laptop back into his lap, opening it slowly to reveal dress to impress on full display.
your hand shoots to cover your mouth, laugh escaping your lips anyway. all he does is glare at you, "this is your fucking fault."
you lean into him with a laugh, "I know I know, sorry. don't be embarrassed, rafe." you press a kiss to his lips.
as you kiss him, you can’t help but laugh again, glancing at his screen. "okay wait that's actually a cute outfit. you're getting good," you nudge him, "fashionista," you add quietly with a chuckle.
he looks at you straight-faced, "I'm only playing this dumbass game because you dragged me into it. i was just bored so,” he gestures to the screen.
“sure, rafe, whatever you say,” you tease, cuddling up beside him. "feel free to keep playing, don't stop at my expense."
he scoffs, but gives in and restarts the game.
you wrap your arm around his middle and watch as he puts together outfit after outfit, the grin rarely leaving your face.
you just love your little fashionista.
----
requests are OPEN 💌
#rafe cameron#obx#rafe cameron imagines#outer banks fluff#rafe cameron fic#drew starkey imagines#outer banks imagines#obx imagines#outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe#rafe x reader#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#obx smut#rafe smut#dress to impress#obx season 4#drew starkey#rafe cameron x you#fluff#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fluff#drew starkey fluff#obx fanfic#outerbanks x reader#outer banks season 3
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brat! | joel miller
pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak
summary: joel is having a brat summer.
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n
a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3
main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3
from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.
Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.
You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.
His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”
And that had been your cue to leave.
With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.
The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.
Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.
To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.
Not them.
Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.
When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.
You slid down the bar.
He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.
Is this what older men wear to the club these days?
He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.
You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”
You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.
Okay, you could work with that.
You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.
Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.
The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.
“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”
You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.
Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”
A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.
“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.
“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.
“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.
“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”
This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”
A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.
“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.
He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”
“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”
“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.
Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.
“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.
Not much of a talker, huh?
“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”
That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”
“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.
The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.
“What? The wife won’t let you?”
A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.
You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.
Bingo.
“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.
You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.
He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.
“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”
Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.
“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”
When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”
“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.
“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”
Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”
A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.
You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”
His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.
“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.
“That depends on you, sweetheart.”
Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.
You didn’t know what you were in for.
Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.
“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”
Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.
You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.
“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.
Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.
“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”
A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.
“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.
“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.
“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.
“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”
You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.
Where was that fucking uber?
“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.
His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.
“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”
A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.
“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”
A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.
“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.
“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.
“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.
Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.
“What the fuck!?”
And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.
“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”
He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”
Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.
When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”
In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.
Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–
“You comin’?”
Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.
It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.
“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”
He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”
Talk?
“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.
“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”
Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.
“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”
You nodded again.
“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.
You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”
“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”
“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”
A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”
You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.
Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.
“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”
Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.
“No.”
His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.
He didn’t like that.
In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.
Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.
When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.
“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”
His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.
“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”
He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.
"Disobedient slut.”
The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.
“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.
“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.
“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”
His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”
Then he spat, right into your mouth.
You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.
“Swallow, brat.”
He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.
The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.
“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.
It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.
With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.
You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.
“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.
Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.
“That’s it, wider.”
You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”
Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.
Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.
“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”
He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.
You wanted to taste them, too.
With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.
A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.
“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.
“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”
Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.
It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.
In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.
It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.
“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”
Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.
“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.
At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.
You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.
You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.
No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.
Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.
“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”
Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.
He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”
Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.
“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”
Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.
You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.
The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.
“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.
He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.
Over you, Joel rambled.
“Good fuckin’ slut.”
“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”
“You love it don’t you?”
And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.
You just wanted to be wanted.
Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.
“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.
You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.
“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”
His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.
His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.
“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”
Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.
“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”
With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.
The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.
“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.
You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”
His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.
“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.
You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.
With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.
Smack!
He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.
Smack!
“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”
He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.
“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.
Smack!
Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.
“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.
Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.
Smack!
“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.
You nodded.
“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”
Smack!
“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.
Finally.
Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.
A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.
“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.
You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.
“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.
“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.
A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”
With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.
“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.
All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”
“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.
He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.
You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.
He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.
“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.
You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.
You were so close now.
“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.
“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”
Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.
“Hold it.”
Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.
Please, Joel, please, sir, please.
“Come.”
Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.
A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.
“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”
He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.
He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.
And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.
Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.
You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.
You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.
“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.
Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.
You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.
Everything was back to how it was before.
A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.
You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.
“Daddy.”
Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.
Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.
“Guess I was wrong.”
part two -> here!
i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!
© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#the last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou smut#pedro pascal
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i wanna see you naked • yang jeongin
M D N I 18+
Synopsis: You and Jeongin decide to play two truths and a lie, taking shots of soju as a punishment. Who knew that with all the drinking Jeongin would confess his fantasies about you.
WC: 2k
Tags/Warnings: afab!reader, softdom!jeongin, bsf!jeongin, pure smut, pwp, intoxicated sex FULLY CONSENSUAL, piv, unprotected sex (DON’T DO THAT…also pee after sex guys), creampie, breeding kink(?), grinding, cunnilingus (clothed cunnilingus), fingering, hair pulling, doggystyle, light spanking, not proof read
a/n: YES THIS IS INSPIRED BY HIS SOLO STAGE BECAUSE WTF WAS THAT…Baby Bread nuh uh more like Daddy Toast…sorry-look I know Jeongin’s saying “call you my hallucination” (????) I think…it’s something hallucinations- but let’s all admit we ALL heard ‘I wanna see you naked’
“Ugh, I’m so bored!” You groaned, tossing your head back. You sat on the floor in front of the sofa while your best friend played and braided your hair behind you. “Hey, isn’t me doing your hair fun?” The black hair boy with a bleached spot commented. You turned your head, shooting him a playful glare. “You’re the one braiding it.”
“Fine, fine. What if we play a game?” Jeongin hummed, a piece of your hair unbraiding itself when his fingers loosened. “Ooh, two truths and a lie!” You say excitedly, giving him the strand of hair that had fallen against the nape of your neck, “I’ll start!”
“You suck at braiding hair. I don’t like your weirdly spotted hair…and,” you begin to ponder a third statement, “and I think your dimples are cute.”
You smile to yourself, a small tug of your hair causes you to scowl, “Hey!”
“I do not suck at braiding hair, I’m just learning!” Jeongin scoffs in a jokingly offended tone.
You turn over your shoulder again, Jeongin’s grasp on your hair seizing yet again. You give him an unamused look, shaking your head.
“What’s the lie Innie?” You prompt him, “I dunno…you’ve never called my simple cute before so that’s weird. And you haven’t really cared about my hair…I’m gonna say it’s the hair one?” Jeongin stated in a questioning manner, shrugging as he attempted to restart the braid- again. You pull your hair away, swiveling your body to face Jeongin.
“Correct, I do like your weirdly spotted hair. What do you want?” Jeongin gave you a confused look, “What do you mean ‘what do I want’?”
“Well you won that round, what do you want?”
“Oh we’re getting penalties?” Jeongin hummed in amusement, his interest peaking in this game, “Go get me one of those mochis you hide, I know you have some.”
You frown at him before getting up from your spot on the floor to retrieve the doughy dessert. A few more rounds of the game went on before the two of you decided to turn it into a drinking game, a shot of soju for every loss. You’ve lost track of how many rounds have gone by, your mind too fuzzy from the alcohol to recall.
“Okay, my turn again!” Jeongin grinned, he wasn’t nearly as drunk as you, having given you insane scenarios to choose from and getting almost every round of yours right. “I’ve seen you naked.”
“What?!” Your eyes shoot open, Jeongin’s statement sobering you slightly. “You want to see me naked.”
Your cheeks flush red, cause it’s true- though you’d never admit it. You must be a madman to not think that your best friend is hot, and that fact alone has made you have some thoughts about him.
“And, I wanna see you naked.”
Jeongin’s cheeks had a pink hue, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol. “What?” You breathed out shakily, you could feel yourself become aroused, you blamed the soju for that.
“I…I wanna see you naked.” Jeongin repeated himself, his face turning a darker shade of pink now.
You had no clue what possessed you to strip yourself of your loose t-shirt, but you blamed it on the alcohol. Jeongin watched your every move as you rid yourself of the material, his lip caught between his teeth. The sight alone sent arousal straight to his hardening cock, twitching in his pants.
You tossed the shirt somewhere onto the floor nearby, barring your bra covered chest to Jeongin. The black haired boy stared at you, his eyes grazing every bit of your exposed skin. He hesitantly brought his hand up before trailing his index finger along your bra strap.
Jeongin’s fingers trailed along the top trim of the bra, following the curve of your breast. Your breath hitches and he stops, Jeongin gives you a knowing look, you simply shake your head assuring him to go on. “Can I…can I take this off?” He stared up at you with flushed cheeks and a lazy soft gaze.
“Only if you,” You say, you bring your hand up to the hem of his white t-shirt implying your want, “take this off too.” Jeongin happily complies, a wide grin plastered across his face as he lifted and tugged his shirt over his head. “So I guess you do wanna see me naked.” He grins, you let out a playful huff.
Jeongin watches as your chest heaves and your thighs rub together under his eyes. Jeongin shifted closer towards you, “Is this okay?” His breath fanned across your cheek to your ear, you simply nodded in response. Jeongin’s fingers unclasped your bra from the back, the straps falling off your shoulders before the full undergarment was discarded.
The boy in front of you just stared in awe at your body, his eyes ranking up and down each curve of your breasts and waist. Growing timid under his gaze, you cross your arms in front of your body.
“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, his hand reaching to rest gently on your knee.
“No,” You breath out shakily, “I dunno…I know it’s weird but…I want it so bad- fuck I want you so bad.” You ramble, your trembling hands cupping his face. Oh how you wanted to lean in and kiss his pink lips. “Fucking hell.” Jeongin breathed out before connecting your lips together.
His lips were rough against yours, every ounce of lust and desire fueling the kiss. You raised from your spot on the floor, climbing onto Jeongin’s lap, straddling his thighs. Jeongin’s hands are immediately on your body, trailing them along your hips to your waist. His hands trailed slowly towards your ass, but never quite grabbed you.
Out of frustration you took his hands in yours and placed them on your ass, letting him know that it’s okay. Jeongin’s rough hands squeezed the fatty flesh before rubbing the area. You moan into his mouth when you feel his erection poking your clothed cunt.
“Fuck,” You bite your lip, pulling away from the kiss and resting your head against his. “Wanted this for so long, Innie.” You whine as his hands cup your breast, his fingers flicking your hardened buds. “Shit baby, I’ve wanted this too!” Jeongin says, his hips bucking into you.
Your hands fumble to his waistband, trying to desperately free him of the clothing. Jeongin’s lips attached to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Once you tugged at his slacks, he lifted his hips, letting you slide the pants along with his underwear down.
“Fuck, can I?” You say, pulling away from his lips once more as you stared at his erected cock. “Next time babe.” Jeongin said, watching you with amusement as you drooled over his cock. He swiftly flipped you onto your back, his fingers going to the waistband of your loose shorts.
You helped Jeongin slide them down your shorts, as you were gonna reach to pull your underwear down, he stopped you. “Don’t.” Jeongin simply stated, a hint of mischief in his eyes.
He maneuvered himself downwards till he was settled between your legs. Jeongin left kisses along your thighs up towards your heat. As he stared at your panties, he noticed a wet patch of your arousal stained on them, a sense of pride swelled over him knowing that he was the cause of it.
Jeongin suddenly leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds, a gasped moan falling from your lips as he continued lapping up your covered cunt. “Ah, Innie…they’ll be ruined.” You could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your throbbing cunt, “I’ll buy you new ones, yeah?” He said, his hand making its way between your legs, slipping them under your panties and circling around your entrance.
“Ah, fuck Innie.” You moaned out as his finger nudged your panty to the side allowing his younger to finally meet your leaking pussy. Jeongin worked his finger in and out of your hole, stretching you by pushing another in, curling them at the right angle.
“Innie-“ You whined, neediness taking out your body, “Jeongin- stop!” And he did, Jeongin looked at you with round eyes, worried that he did something wrong or that he hurt you. “Are you okay?!” He says, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the couch cushion.
“I’m fine Innie, but if you don’t fuck me right now, so help me God.” Jeongin let out a sigh of relief before a small chuckle escaped his lips, “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He said climbing up to your face and leaving a kiss on your cheek.
You felt your face flush, “I- Jeongin…don’t just say stuff like that I- what?!” The words you formed in your head went numb on your tongue. Jeongin simply bit his lip cockily. “You…ugh.” You groaned, pushing his body off of yours, straddling his hips once again before taking his cock in your hand and dragging it along your wet folds.
“Oh fuck.” Jeongin hissed, his hands flying to your hips, gripping tightly. Every trace of his cockiness was wiped away. You could feel him throbbing underneath you, the veins along his cock protruding at the need for friction. “Babe, don’t start something you can’t finish.” Jeongin warns, squeezing the flesh at your hip.
“Who says I can’t finish it?” You taunt, a playful smirk on your face. Before you could blink, Jeongin had flipped you over the couch, your hands pinned above your head with one of his hands as his other guided the tip of his cock to your entrance.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jeongin smirks, barely pushing his tip in before pulling out again. “This is still okay right? You don’t need me to stop-“ “Yang Jeongin! I swear if you ask me that one more time- if I want you to stop I’ll tell you, just fuck me already.”
With your confirmation, Jeongin flushes out against your ass as he pushes himself into your warm heat. Erotic moans falling from both of your mouths. “Shit, you’re so tight baby.”
“Fuck, I feel so full.” You whine as Jeongin starts thrusting into you.
Jeongin watches as your tits bounce with each thrust he gives. His eyes linger on your ass as it smacks against his pelvis. A sudden smack echoed throughout the living space, followed by a sting of pain on your asscheek. Jeongin watched as the flesh moved under his touch, how it reddened so quickly, how you moaned as he spanked you.
“You're so pretty like this, bent over and taking my cock like this.” Jeongin’s words go straight to your cunt, that familiar knot forming in your stomach.
“Holy fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered as Jeongin continued pounding you from behind. You were suddenly pulled back by your hair, forcing you to look up. “You gonna cum on my cock, doll?” Jeongin mumbled, his grip on your hair loosening so that he doesn’t hurt you.
“Mmm, fuck yes Innie! Please can I cum.” You cried out as your climax neared. “Cum on my cock baby, you got it.” He encouraged, his pace never faltering. A few more thrust and you orgasmed, a watery liquid wetting the two of you. “Fuck, you’re so sexy- you’re clenching so hard on me, doll.”
“Shit I’m gonna cum- where do you want it?” Jeongin grunted, his fingers retreating from your hair and wrists, gripping your hips yet again for support. “Inside.” You whimpered due to the overstimulation. Jeongin groaned as he filled you up with his seed, resting his head against the back of your shoulder as he emptied out inside of you, “You’re milking my cock so well baby.”
After pulling out and washing up, the two of you just layed there on the sofa in a daze. “So what was the lie?” You broke the silence. Jeongin looked over at you with a small smile, “That I had seen you naked- which I guess now isn’t necessarily a lie anymore.”
#skz#stray kids#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#skz hard hours#skz hard thoughts#skz smut#stray kids smut#yang jeongin x reader#yang jeongin#yang jeongin smut#Jeongin#jeongin x reader#jeongin smut#i.n skz#i.n x reader#i.n stray kids#i.n#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours
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mirrorball
IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader
1.4k words
Inspired by Taylor Swift's mirrorball
A/N: This Wonyoung really makes me go :dentt:. Also, thanks to a half of @k-dgn for beta-reading!!! Thanks for reading y'all! Oh, and this one doesn't have pegging (or mentions of it) lmao.
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Taylor Swift’s mirrorball echoes through the locker room. It’s quiet, except from where two souls are struggling to tear each other’s clothes off. Your hearts are beating fast, and they’re killing you.
“Why the fuck–ugh–is this dress so tight, Wonyoung?”
“It’s prom, baby–mmph. I can’t just go with a tee with jeans and call it a day.”
“That’s not the question.”
“And I don’t give a–mmph–fuck,” Wonyoung says, peppering pecks on your neck. You keep jolting and jolting in response. Her hands are a tangled mess on your buttons.
You’ve been trying for a few minutes now, but her zipper just won’t come off. She pauses her kisses to chuckle now and then, watching you embroiled in the predicament. Still, even with her looking down on you like this, she’s still drop dead gorgeous.
“Let me?” Wonyoung finally asks. You’re panting in exhaustion. Fuck, why is this so hard?
“Yeah, I–I’ll just–fuck–take off my clothes.” You take a step back, throwing the jacket away to god knows where, before unbuttoning your waistcoat hastily, hands trembling. Wonyoung is also reaching for her back, unlocking the otherworldly strong zipper—too bad you aren’t going to see her in this beautiful white dress for a while, at least until you finish with her. Still, there are those pretty eyes and those pouty lips to compensate for the lack of an ethereal garment.
And you realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long.
“Hey.”
You’re snapped out of her hypnosis.
“Are we fucking or not?” Wonyoung asks, chuckling as you’ve been gawking at her.
“Y–Yeah, it’s just–uh–”
“Thanks,” she replies with a smile, a genuine one. “I’m more than just face, of course, but thanks.”
You smile back, before returning to unbuttoning your coat. It comes off much easier. You can feel your heartbeat decelerating. Wonyoung’s dress is also coming off, revealing her firm chest beneath it. Her long, slender legs come into view, and you just can’t help but stare at them.
“Fuck,” you utter in awe of her body. That hourglass shape. Those curves. Those contours. Fuck is the right word.
“You’re quite a catch too, you know?” she playfully points at your bulge, still pants and a shirt away to be naked.
You chuckle. “T–Thanks.”
A few more garments are down and you’re now bare in front of this goddess. She’s left with her panties, her small breasts resting on her chest.
“God, I just wanna–”
“Eat me? Devour me? I’ve heard all of that, baby. Now if you’d just fuck me with that cock,” Wonyoung says, licking her lips.
Bloody hell. “Come on, Wonyoung.”
A giggle escapes her lips.
You take a step towards her. Your faces are just a hot breath away from each other. You can feel your heartbeat accelerating again. You’re lost in each other’s eyes.
Without a word, Wonyoung pulls you into a burning kiss, legs tangled to remove her panties for you. You feel her pouty lips resting on yours. Her tongue invades your mouth ever so masterfully, drawing breathless moans out of you. Her hands grip onto the back of your neck tightly, not wanting to let you leave her in the dark with Taylor Swift alone. She moans and moans into your mouth. Your hands move towards her firm breasts, kneading them, squeezing them, and both of you let out a satisfied hum at the touch.
“Shit,” she says, muffled by the kiss.
You don’t want to let this moment go—bare, kissing under the faint moonlight from the outside. Your hands are wandering around each other’s body. Your moans are sealed within the searing kiss. You pin Wonyoung against the locker, not wanting to let her leave you in the dark with Taylor Swift alone.
It feels like an eternity before she pulls herself back from your lips—flushed. Her breaths come out as pants.
“That–That felt great,” Wonyoung says, breathlessly.
“I know.”
Suddenly, Wonyoung flips the position between you two. You’re now the one pinned on the locker doors, locked within her embrace. She’s looking at you predatorily—determined, eager, lustful.
“Ready?” she asks, tilting her head a little.
You nod.
She steps back, before settling herself on the bench behind her. She gestures her finger as a signal.
“Fuck me.”
You take a step towards her body, lining up your cock with her wet slit.
“Ready?”
She nods.
And you push yourself into her cunt. She welcomes you with her tightness, as both of you moan on the entry. You watch your cock slowly disappearing, inch by inch, into her. Wonyoung’s deep moans are nothing short of angelic. You can just listen to this all day long.
“You’re so tight, Wonyoung,” you grunt, lost in the throes of pleasure she’s giving you.
“T–Thanks, y–you’re big too, you know? Ha–Hah.”
Her wet cunt grips you tightly. The insides of her are hugging you so well. She’s blushing uncontrollably, and so do you. You’re absolutely trembling with excitement right now, as her tightness grips you like a vice. You hear her breaths come out shallowly. Her hands are gripping onto the bench tightly.
You push yourself to the limit that your cock can give, before languidly pulling out of her wetness. She feels so damn good, and you wish that you can just do this forever.
Slowly, you find your rhythm with her. The movement becomes more mechanical, like a clockwork. You’re setting a pace in sliding in and out of her cunt now. She feels even better like this. You’re drawing moans and moans out of her lips. Her hand starts to rub her sensitive clit now—so eager to cum with you.
You cannot fathom the feeling you’re experiencing right now. Her pussy feels too good to be true. She’s smiling as your shaft slides in and out of her, happy to be stuffed with a cock. Her breasts heave with the movement.
Her eyes stare into yours with unbridled need.
“W–Wonyoung.”
“Hmm, y–yes?”
“C–Can I cum on your face?”
Wonyoung bursts out a laugh. “Only if you kiss me after. I wanna kiss you so fucking bad.”
You then seal your lips with hers, invading her wanting mouth with your tongue. You bite her bottom lip softly, drawing out a moan out of her. She bites your bottom lip back ever so softly, matching your gentleness. Below, you’re still giving the same roughness she craves, thrusting into her wanton cunt with no abandon.
After an eternity, you two both come up for the much-needed breath outside of the kiss. You see her face becomes all flushed after the kiss, bringing out a chuckle from you.
You pull your cock out of her wanton cunt, using your hand to relieve the pent-up pressure. Wonyoung kneels, sticking her tongue out lewdly, making a sound, while her hand is rubbing her swollen clit furiously. What a sight.
“Come on, paint my face. Think of it as a canvas or something,” she says.
You can feel it, that all-so-familiar feeling building up in your lower stomach. Your thighs tense up, ready to blow the load on her gorgeous face. The wave is coming. It’s going to crash into you, and you’re so fucking ready to welcome it.
“Do you need encouragement, baby boy?”
And with that word, you give in. Your cock shoots spurts of cum onto her face. Your vision turns white. Wonyoung moans as her orgasm hits at the same time, eyes fluttering in ecstasy. Her whole body jerks and shakes with you. Fuck, you’re going to remember this forever.
Your cum lands on her forehead, between the plump lips inside her mouth, on her perfectly sculpted nose, on her rosy cheeks. Some even land on her tits. She’s happy to take it all.
“Good boy, good fucking boy,” says Wonyoung with her cum-smeared face. She picks up a portion of it from her reddened cheeks with her slender fingers, before having a taste.
“Yum.”
She then stands up before staring into your eyes. She looks so damn breathtaking like this.
“D–Do you need anything else, Wonyoung?” you stammer out.
“I was promised a kiss, pretty boy, after you painted me like your goddamn canvas,” Wonyoung says.
Again, her tongue invades your mouth relentlessly. Her pouty lips rest on yours, and the wet sounds of kissing rings in your ear. Your hands move onto her pert breasts. Her grip on your neck becomes tighter.
“So good,” says Wonyoung, muffled.
She then breaks off the searing kiss, blushing, breaths coming in ragged.
“We’re going to have to do this again.”
“Definitely, or maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?”
You laugh, before sealing her lips again with a kiss.
—
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UNPUNISHABLE—soldier boy boarding school au! x catholic boy
find part two here ⤷ part two
“i’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. “God, ‘m sorry, i’m sorry.” but the words were hollow, meaningless, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart and the unbearable ache in your body.
he cut you off with a hand on your wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. the heat in his gaze made your stomach twist, your cock twitch in your hand. “bet you’ve been pent up for weeks, huh? poor fuckin’ thing...”
warnings; religious guilt and themes , power dynamics , getting off to underwear , degradation and humiliation kink , voyeuristic elements (mirror use) , handjobs , use of the words “filthy” , and “pervert”. wc: 5.4k
benjamin had been at this boarding school long enough to know exactly how it worked. the social hierarchy, the petty squabbles, the hazing rituals—they were as predictable as the smell of old books and stale coffee in the library. he didn’t care about most of it. he played his part: good grades, a cocky smile, and enough charm to skate by without making any real enemies. but the start of a new term always brought fresh blood, and benjamin had a sixth sense for spotting the ones who wouldn’t last.
and then, there was you.
you arrived late to the term, which was already a death sentence. the first few weeks were critical—the time when the hierarchy solidified, alliances were formed, and survival strategies were locked in. worse, you might as well have walked in with a neon sign flashing fresh meat. everything about you screamed out-of-place: the polished shoes that gleamed a little too much, the perfectly ironed shirt tucked with military precision, the rigid way you carried yourself, like you were bracing for a slap. you walked into the dining hall that first evening with your tray balanced so carefully it might as well have been a Eucharist offering, eyes darting around the room like you were waiting for someone to shove you back out the door. you didn’t even have to open your mouth for everyone to know: Catholic boarding school.
it didn’t take long for the other boys to catch on. they had a nose for blood, and you reeked of it. whispers followed you during study hall; cruel nicknames were hurled across the lacrosse field. someone replaced the water in your sports bottle with holy water one afternoon, which left you blinking back tears while everyone howled with laughter.
benjamin wasn’t sure why he noticed you, exactly. maybe it was the way you always seemed to be clutching a rosary in your pocket, running the beads through your fingers like a lifeline. maybe it was the way your cheeks flushed red every time someone snickered “Father” as you walked past. or maybe it was just boredom.
whatever it was, he found himself jogging after you one afternoon, his golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo as he called out, “hey!”
you stopped abruptly, startled, and clutched your books like they might shield you from whatever this was. “uh, hi?”
“you’re the new guy, right?” he asked, all casual confidence as he fell into step beside you.
“i’m not—”
“you are,” he cut you off smoothly, flashing an easy smile. “trust me, i’ve been here long enough to know. you’ve got that ‘lost lamb’ look.”
for a moment, you just blinked at him. his smile didn’t falter, though. Instead, he slung an arm around your shoulders like you were already old friends. “look, this place is a jungle,” he said, steering you toward the courtyard. “and you’re walking around with a target painted on your back. but lucky for you, i’m feeling charitable today.”
you hesitated, your whole body stiffening under his touch. “thanks, but i’m fine.”
“no, you’re not,” he said bluntly, his grin widening. “you’re fresh out of Catholic school, right? i can tell. you’ve got that whole... thing about you. like you’re waiting for a nun to materialize and slap you for breathing too loud.”
that earned him a faint flush of red creeping up your neck. you straightened your shoulders, clearly bristling, but instead of shoving him off, you sighed and let some of the tension drain from your frame. “yeah, well, i’m used to it.”
“doesn’t mean you have to suffer through it alone.”
from that moment on, things changed. benjamin took you under his wing—not that he’d ever admit to something so noble-sounding. it started small: little tips like which table to avoid during meals (definitely not the one near the windows, unless you wanted to end up as the debate team’s entertainment) or how to cut through the north courtyard to bypass the rugby team’s hazing gauntlet. when he noticed you sitting alone in the dining hall, bent over your tray like you were saying grace, he’d saunter over and drop into the seat across from you, grinning like you were his favorite person in the world.
“you’re not gonna survive this place with just prayer, you know,” he teased one evening, stealing a fry off your plate before you could stop him.
your ears burned, but you still muttered, “i don’t need your help.”
“sure you don’t,” he replied easily, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you squirm. “but humor me.”
you weren’t blind to the whispers that followed after that.
“never seen ben hang out with someone like him before.”
“you think they’re...?”
“no way. ben’s just bored. or maybe it’s, like, charity work.”
their words stung, but less than you’d expected. maybe it was because benjamin never seemed to notice—or care—what anyone else thought. he had a way of brushing off insults with that cocky grin of his, and slowly, you found yourself learning to do the same.
but for all his charm, benjamin was infuriating. he’d swipe your homework to “check something” and then return it with a smirk. he’d drag you into conversations you didn’t want to have, poking fun at your strict upbringing and coaxing stories out of you about priests, penance, and purgatory. he was relentless, and you hated that it made you feel a little less like the walls were closing in.
benjamin was everywhere. his laughter echoed in the halls, his golden hair glinting like sunlight, his voice as smooth and warm as honey. it didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing; he was inescapable. and at first, you didn’t mind. at first, you liked the way he looked at you, like you weren’t invisible. the way his arm slung so easily around your shoulders, the way he’d steal your fries or lean in too close just to watch you squirm. he made it look so easy, weaving you into his world with a smirk and a casual confidence you could never hope to emulate. he defended you from the worst of the hazing, diffused the cruel jokes with a well-timed barb or a cutting smile, and made sure you were never left sitting alone in the dining hall.
but then it started to change.
you started to change.
at first, it was subtle: a quickening in your chest when he leaned over your desk, close enough for his cologne to fog your senses. a tightness in your throat when his hand lingered on your shoulder, his thumb brushing the edge of your collar. he didn’t notice the way you froze when he stood behind you, leaning in to murmur some joke meant just for you. it was in the way he sat beside you during study hall, his long legs stretched out like he owned the space, his golden hair catching the light in a way that made your chest ache. it was in the way he teased you, his voice low and warm, always managing to say just enough to make you blush but never enough to cross a line. it was in the way he looked at you sometimes, his emerald eyes lingering just a moment too long, like he was searching for something in you that you didn’t even understand yourself. but you noticed.
you noticed everything.
the curve of his jaw. the warmth of his touch. the way his lips parted when he laughed, his head tilting back, throat exposed like an offering. it felt like blasphemy to see him this way, to want what you shouldn’t want. It felt like the serpent in the garden, whispering in your ear, coaxing you to look a little too long, to want what was forbidden.
and that’s when the shame began to take root.
it crept into your thoughts like a sickness, coiling around your heart. you began to see sin in every glance, every touch, every laugh that left you breathless. you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining things—things you couldn’t say, couldn’t even think without bile rising in your throat.
you prayed. oh, God, how you prayed. every night, you knelt beside your bed, fingers clutching the rosary so tightly they left indentations on your palms. you begged for forgiveness, begged God to deliver you from this sickness of the soul. you whispered Hail Marys into the dark, choking on the words as you begged the Blessed Virgin to intercede for you, to make you pure again. but your prayers felt hollow, empty. each whispered plea was drowned out by the memory of benjamin’s voice, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at you that day in the courtyard, sunlight haloing his head like a saint in a fresco.
you told yourself it wasn’t his fault. how could it be? he was just being benjamin, just being kind. he didn’t know what it did to you when he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. he didn’t know about the nights you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the air between your beds a chasm you longed to cross but never would.
the fault was yours alone. your weakness. your sin.
and yet, no matter how many times you dragged the blade of guilt across your soul, the feelings wouldn’t go away. they festered, spreading like rot, turning your prayers into cries of anguish. you thought of the words of Matthew: “if your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. for it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell.” and yet your eyes lingered on him still.
you began to pull back. at first, it was subtle: excuses to leave study sessions early, mumbling about assignments or the need to pray. you avoided his gaze, kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap when he reached out to touch your shoulder. you stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped letting him get too close, stopped letting him into the cracks of your armor.
but it was impossible to escape him. he was always there—leaning against your desk, lounging on his bed, sprawled out in the dining hall, his smile a temptation you couldn’t resist. you tried to flee from him, but he followed you everywhere, even in your thoughts. his voice was there when you knelt before the crucifix, his laughter echoing in the back of your mind as you begged God to cleanse you.
and the worst part was that he noticed. of course he noticed. the worst part was that you wanted him to. some small, desperate part of you wanted him to press, to dig, to uncover the thing rotting in your soul and absolve you of it.
“hey, what’s going on with you?” he asked one evening, lounging on his bed with one arm tucked behind his head. his shirt was rumpled, the top few buttons undone, and you hated the way your eyes were drawn to the hollow of his throat.
you couldn’t look at him. couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his green eyes, the confusion on his face, you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was your own weakness, your own sin. you couldn’t tell him that his mere existence was unraveling you, that every time he touched you, it felt like temptation made flesh. “nothing,” you said quickly, focusing on the textbook in your lap as if the words on the page could save you.
“bullshit,” he said, sitting up, his sharp green eyes piercing through your feeble lies. “you’ve been acting weird all week. did i do something?”
you flinched, the weight of his concern pressing down on you. you could feel the truth clawing at the back of your throat, desperate to be let out, but you couldn’t speak it. to confess was to condemn yourself. “no,” you said quickly, too quickly.
“then what is it?” his voice softened, but the hurt had already started to seep into it. you wanted to shove him away, to tell him to stop caring, to stop looking at you like that. stop making me feel this way. “you’re not... you’re not letting those assholes get to you, are you? ‘cause if someone’s giving you shit, i’ll—”
“it’s not that,” you snapped, harsher than you intended, your shame turning sharp as a blade. his expression faltered, and guilt twisted in your chest like a thorn. you dropped your gaze, your hands trembling as they gripped the edge of your book. “i just... i need space, okay?”
“space,” he repeated, the word flat and unfamiliar in his mouth. “from me?” he didn’t understand. how could he? to him, you were just the awkward Catholic boy he’d taken under his wing. he didn’t know about the fire consuming you from the inside out, the way his very presence felt like a test of faith you were doomed to fail.
the silence stretched out, suffocating. you could feel him staring at you, searching for something—an answer, a crack in your armor, anything that would make sense of this. finally, he exhaled sharply, the sound like a wound opening. “fine,” he said, standing abruptly. the bed creaked under his movement, the sound echoing in the quiet room. his voice was colder than you had ever heard it, laced with a bitterness that made your chest ache. “whatever you want, Father.”
the door clicked shut behind him, and you were alone. alone with the shame, the guilt, the terrible longing that refused to let you go. you pressed your hands together, the rosary dangling between your fingers like a lifeline, but even as you tried to pray, all you could think of was him.
but the distance didn’t help. if anything, it made things worse.
benjamin was always there, in your mind, no matter how hard you tried to shut him out. the memory of his smile haunted you during morning prayers. the sound of his voice echoed in your ears as you tried to focus on your studies. at night, in the dim light of your dorm room, you could hear him breathing in the bed across from yours, and it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you couldn’t have.
you hated him for it. you hated yourself more.
you had always been devout, a faithful son of the church. your rosary was your shield, your Bible your sword, your faith the fortress that had kept you safe from the temptations of the world. you clung to the Word of God like a drowning man clings to driftwood, trusting it to keep you pure, to keep you upright. but benjamin made you falter. benjamin made you doubt.
and worst of all, benjamin made you want.
the dreams had come slowly at first, creeping into your mind like thieves in the night. they were innocuous, almost innocent: his laugh ringing out like church bells, his hand brushing yours by accident. but they grew darker, heavier, like a storm gathering on the horizon. you began to dream of his hand lingering too long on your shoulder, sliding down your arm, his fingers warm, deliberate. you dreamed of his lips—pink, soft, sinful—hovering too close to yours, his breath ghosting against your skin. you dreamed of his hand, sure and unrelenting, sliding down your stomach, your cock throbbing under his touch as his name fell from your lips like a prayer you’d never dare to speak aloud.
you always woke from those dreams shaking, drenched in sweat and shame. your body betrayed you, your cock hard, insistent, as if it hadn’t just condemned you. the guilt came in waves, crashing over you, dragging you under. you’d fumble for your rosary in the dark, clutching it tightly, the beads biting into your palms like thorns. you’d sink to your knees on the cold, unyielding floor, whispering, “forgive me, Father, for i have sinned.”
your voice trembled, cracked, as you poured yourself out to a God who surely couldn’t love you anymore. you recited the Psalms until your throat was raw, until the words blurred into each other and the ache in your chest grew unbearable. you told yourself you were strong enough to resist, that the dreams meant nothing, that they were merely a test of your faith.
but the dreams kept coming.
and worse, some dark, treacherous part of you didn’t want them to stop.
one night, long after benjamin had left for the evening, you found yourself restless, the shame coiled tightly in your chest, suffocating. you paced the small dorm room, your rosary clutched in one hand, muttering prayers under your breath like a desperate incantation. but they didn’t help. they couldn’t stop the image of him from searing itself into your mind: benjamin sprawled out on his bed, his shirt half undone, his laugh warm and unguarded, his scent—clean, sharp, him—lingering in the air like incense.
you told yourself to stop, to look away, to think of anything else, but the pull was too strong. you walked into the bathroom, hoping the cold tile and harsh light would cleanse you, give you some clarity. but then you saw them.
benjamin’s boxers were draped carelessly over the counter, a remnant of his presence that felt like a physical blow. your heart lurched, your breath catching in your throat. you froze, your breath catching in your throat, shame flooding you before you’d even moved. you shouldn’t touch them. you knew you shouldn’t. this was wrong, disgusting, unforgivable. but before you could stop yourself, your hand was reaching out, trembling as it closed around the fabric.
they were still warm.
you brought them to your face, your chest heaving as his scent hit you like a blow. it was intoxicating, maddening, him. you inhaled deeply, the cotton brushing against your lips, and you could feel your body reacting, your cock straining against the confines of your jeans.
a strangled sound escaped your throat, half-sob, half-moan. you were shaking, trembling under the weight of your sin, but you couldn’t stop. the shame rose in you, thick and choking, but it only seemed to fuel the fire burning inside you.
your free hand slid down to the bulge in your jeans, your fingers fumbling with the zipper as you gasped for breath. “i’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. “God, ‘m sorry, i’m sorry.” but the words were hollow, meaningless, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart and the unbearable ache in your body.
your hand slipped into your boxers, your cock hot and throbbing in your palm. the fabric of benjamin’s boxers pressed against your face as you stroked yourself, the sensation overwhelming, sickeningly good. you bit down on your lip to stifle a moan, tears streaming down your face as the guilt clawed at you, sharp and unrelenting.
you hated yourself for this.
you hated how much you needed it.
each stroke felt like a lash against your soul, each gasp a plea for forgiveness you didn’t deserve. you thought of the saints, their eyes turned heavenward, their bodies pierced and broken for their faith, and you wondered if they would weep for you or turn away in disgust. you thought of the thorns pressed into Christ’s brow, of the spear that pierced His side, and you felt like you were driving it in deeper with every desperate, shameful motion.
you were drowning in sin.
the rosary clutched in your hand felt heavier than ever, its beads digging into your skin like penance, a crown of thorns wrapped around your fist. each bead you touched felt like a tally mark against your soul, a reminder of the countless sins you’d committed in thought, in word, and now—oh, God forgive me—in deed.
benjamin’s scent clung to the fabric pressed to your face, clean and sharp, with that faint musk of sweat and skin that was undeniably him. you could taste it on your tongue, could feel it seeping into your lungs like incense burned in offering. it filled you, overwhelmed you, until you couldn’t think of anything else.
your body betrayed you.
your cock throbbed in your hand, slick with the evidence of your shame. the other gripped the rosary so tightly that the crucifix bit into your palm, the tiny Christ pressed there like a mute witness to your depravity. tears streaked down your face, hot and bitter, dripping from your chin onto your bare chest. you felt split open, like the veil of the temple torn in two, laid bare before God and man.
“i’m sorry,” you gasped, the words breaking on your lips, no more than a breathless whisper. “fuck, ‘m so sorry.”
but even as you prayed, even as you begged for forgiveness, your hips jerked forward, thrusting into your fist. the friction was maddening, too much and not enough all at once. you couldn’t stop. you didn’t want to stop.
the shame was suffocating, thick as smoke, but it only seemed to fuel the fire raging in you. the boxers in your hand felt like a relic, a profane artifact that held power over you. you buried your face in them, inhaling deeply, and a strangled moan escaped your lips.
your fingers tightened around your cock, stroking faster, harder, desperate to chase the release you knew would damn you. you bit your lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying to stifle the sounds rising in your throat. they escaped anyway, broken gasps and half-sobs that echoed off the tile walls like confessions shouted in a cathedral.
the bathroom door creaked open.
you froze.
your heart stopped, then slammed back to life, pounding so loudly you thought it might burst. slowly, your eyes flicked toward the doorway, and there he was.
ben.
his green eyes were wide, his brows drawn together in confusion and concern as he stepped inside. “hey, are you—” he stopped mid-sentence, his gaze dropping to the scene before him.
your cock in your hand, hard and aching. his boxers clutched in the other, pressed to your face. the rosary tangled in your fingers, beads slipping between them like the blood of your guilt.
“fuck,” he breathed, his voice low and rough. his eyes darted back up to your face, and you could see the realization dawn in them. the pieces clicking into place.
the shame was instant, white-hot, burning through you like fire and brimstone. you dropped the boxers as if they’d scorched you, scrambling to cover yourself. words tumbled from your lips, incoherent and panicked. “i—i’m sorry, i didn’t—”
benjamin stepped closer, his movements deliberate, measured. his expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—curiosity? amusement? want?
your breath hitched as he crouched in front of you, his hand reaching out. you flinched, expecting anger, rejection, disgust. but instead, his fingers brushed against yours, prying the rosary from your trembling grip.
“hey,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “relax.”
you shook your head, tears spilling over again. “i can’t—i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t—”
he cut you off with a hand on your wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. the heat in his gaze made your stomach twist, your cock twitch in your hand. “bet you’ve been pent up for weeks, huh? poor fuckin’ thing...”
you wanted to protest, to tell him to stop, to push him away. but your body betrayed you again, leaning into his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers wrapped around your own.
“let me help,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost horse. you didn’t respond. you couldn’t.
he guided your hand, his grip firm and sure, stroking you in a rhythm that made your head spin. his other hand picked up the boxers from the floor, holding them to your face once more. “go on,” he murmured. “you want it, don’t you?”
a sob tore from your throat as you inhaled deeply, the scent of him filling your lungs. it felt wrong, filthy, perfect.
benjamin’s hand gripped your cock with a firm, unrelenting pressure, his fingers curling around your length as though he’d done this a thousand times before. the confidence in his touch was maddening, a sharp contrast to your trembling body and fractured thoughts. his palm was warm and sure, his movements measured, deliberate—stroking you with a pace that was just slow enough to make you ache, to keep you teetering on the edge of sanity.
“shhh,” benjamin murmured, his voice low, soothing, a sharp contrast to the roughness of his hand. his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke, his breath warm and unbearably intimate. “you don’t want anyone else to hear, do you? just me. just us.”
you whimpered, a helpless sound that only made his smirk widen. the way his fingers curled around your cock, stroking upward with just enough pressure to make your thighs tense, sent bolts of heat racing through you. his thumb grazed the sensitive tip, spreading the slick pre-cum there with an unhurried, almost lazy motion that had your hips bucking forward without your permission.
“desperate already?” he asked, his tone mocking but soft, as if he was speaking to something fragile. he pressed the heel of his palm against the base of your cock, applying just enough pressure to make you ache, to keep you right on the precipice of pleasure without tumbling over. “you’re gonna have to work for it, sweetheart.”
the bathroom was suffocating, steam and guilt mingling in the stagnant air. ben’s grip on your wrist tightened, steadying your trembling body as he tugged you upward, his strength unyielding. you stumbled to your feet, barely able to think, barely able to breathe as he guided you toward the sink.
"look at yourself," he murmured, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the tiles. his hand cupped your chin, forcing your head up, making you confront the reflection in the mirror.
your face was a mess: tear-streaked, flushed, mouth parted in desperate gasps. your chest heaved, sweat glistening on your skin. and below, the evidence of your shame—your cock, swollen and slick, gripped tight in ben’s firm, unforgiving hand.
"god, look at you," he rasped, the words rough and dripping with derision, yet tinged with something darker, something hotter. his green eyes burned as they flicked between your reflection and the reality of you standing before him, shaking, broken. "so filthy."
you whimpered, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his gaze, of his words. "how do you think God would feel, huh?" he asked, his tone mocking, cruel in its softness. his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, the contact sending shivers down your spine. "seeing you like this? crying and moaning like a fuckin’ sinner. bet the saints are turning away right now."
“stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, hoarse from the tears and the shame that choked you. but you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t.
benjamin’s hand tightened around your cock, stroking it with slow, deliberate precision. he watched your reflection, studying every flinch, every gasp, every broken sound that escaped your lips. "stop?" he echoed, his smirk deepening. "you don’t want me to stop." he tilted his head, his eyes locking onto yours in the mirror. "look at yourself. you’re loving this. bet you’ve been dreaming about me, haven’t you? thinking about my hands on you, my mouth on you..."
your knees buckled at the insinuation, and his arm shot out, catching you around the waist, holding you upright. you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but your body betrayed you. your hips jerked forward again, seeking the friction his hand so cruelly denied you. “please,” you gasped, though you didn’t know what you were begging for—for him to stop, for him to continue, for absolution, for release.
he chuckled, low and throaty, the sound rumbling through your chest. "poor thing," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "all those prayers, and this is where they got you. on your knees, jerking off with my fuckin’ boxers like a desperate little pervert."
your stomach twisted, shame coiling tighter, but the heat in his voice, the weight of his words—it ignited something inside you, something primal and unbearable.
benjamin leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. his lips brushed your shoulder, soft at first, then firmer as his teeth grazed your skin. he nipped at you, not enough to break the skin but enough to make you gasp, your cock twitching helplessly in his hand. "fuck, you’re so easy," he hissed, his tone laced with contempt and fascination. his free hand slid up your chest, his fingers ghosting over the line of your throat before gripping your jaw. he forced your gaze to stay fixed on the mirror, his green eyes burning into yours through the glass. "look at yourself," he demanded, his grip tightening on your chin just enough to keep you compliant. "take a good, long look."
your eyes flicked to the mirror, and the sight made your stomach churn. your face was flushed, your eyes glassy and wet from unshed tears. sweat clung to your skin, your hair disheveled, and your lips swollen from where you'd bitten them raw. your cock was still hard, leaking against your stomach, throbbing with need as benjamin stood behind you, as he pumped you in slow, devastating strokes “does this feel good?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. his voice dripped with mockery, sending a jolt of humiliation through you. "getting all hard for me, like some filthy little pervert? huh?"
your hips jerked forward involuntarily, chasing the friction of his touch, and a broken moan tore from your throat. the sound echoed in the small bathroom, a damning confession of your weakness. benjamin smirked, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough to keep you in place. "that’s what i thought."
your knuckles turned white as you gripped the edge of the sink, the cold porcelain biting into your palms. you tried to look away, shame prickling your every nerve, but benjamin’s grip was unrelenting. he tilted your chin higher, forcing your gaze to stay fixed on the mirror. “don’t you fucking look away,” it was a command, sure, but also quiet request, one you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. “i want you to see exactly what you are. a filthy, desperate pervert, getting off to the thought of me. say it.”
your breath hitched, a broken moan tearing from your lips as your hips jerked forward, chasing the friction of his touch. the sound seemed to please him, his smirk widening as his other hand moved to your waist, holding you steady against the sink. “say it,” benjamin murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his hand on your cock moved faster now, his strokes rough and unrelenting, dragging you closer to the edge. “say what you are.”
“i—i can’t,” you gasped, your voice cracking under the weight of your shame.
“yes, you can.” his tone softened just enough to make your chest tighten, to make you hate how much you wanted to give in. “say it, or i’ll stop.”
your head snapped up, panic flaring in your chest as you met his eyes in the mirror. he smirked at your reaction, his grip on you tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. “you don’t want me to stop, do you?” he teased, his voice a low purr as his fingers wrapped around your cock, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur. “you like this too much.”
“i’m a filthy pervert,” you finally choked out, the words burning like acid on your tongue.
“good boy.” benjamin’s smirk deepened, his hand moving faster now, dragging you toward the precipice. “now tell me what you want.”
“i—” your chest heaved, your hands gripping the edge of the sink so tightly your knuckles turned white. “i want you.” the confession tore free like a prayer, desperate and raw. “I want you to touch me, to—to make me cum—”
benjamin chuckled, the sound low and satisfied as he pressed his lips to your neck. “that’s more like it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. “go on. let go for me. i want to feel you come apart in my hand.”
his words were your undoing. your body arched against him, trembling as the pleasure surged through you like a wave crashing against the shore. benjamin’s grip was firm, steady, grounding you as you came with a shuddering cry, your release splattering against the mirror in thick, messy streaks.
“fuck,” ben breathed out, his tone heavy with awe as he watched your reflection. his hand didn’t stop, coaxing every last drop from you, his strokes slow and deliberate now, like he was savoring the way you unraveled beneath his touch.
when it was over, you sagged against the sink, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. ben’s hand lingered on your cock, his fingers slick with your release as he pulled away, his smirk softening into something almost tender. “look at that,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to grip your chin, tilting your head back so your eyes met his in the mirror. “such a pretty mess.”
you swallowed hard, the shame creeping back in like a tide, but ben’s thumb brushed against your jaw, grounding you. “you okay?” he asked softly, his voice lacking the teasing edge it had carried before. you nodded weakly, your throat too tight to speak.
“good.” his smirk returned, softer now, but no less infuriating. he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “because you owe me a clean mirror.”
© 𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐰𝐭𝐟’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲! 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋!
#eepwtf’s works ! ( •)▄︻テحكـ━一💥#x male reader#x male smut#the boys smut#soldier boy smut#catholic guilt#top x bottom#soldier boy x male reader#soldier boy x you#was up and thinking about that one guy from hilda furacao when writing this#he’s such a loser#like what#hilda furacao#you’re invading my thoughts now
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UNDERNEATH YOUR CLOTHES
summary => Request: Could you write a one-shot about Charles’ girlfriend wearing one his Ferrari jerseys or like his merch w his name on it and he fucks her with it on? [2.1k]
[charles leclerc x reader]
warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut
note: I’ve had this request in my inbox for so long and I’ve been absolutely itching to get this out. I’m such a sucker for friends to lovers so I changed it a bit to fit with the idea that I ended up rolling with.
School’s out until July so if anyone has anything they want written, send it in :) Hope you guys enjoy this first Charles request!
You groan at the sound of urgent knocking at your door. Groggily, you pull yourself from your bed and make your way to the door. You don’t bother switching on the lights, neon signs from outside streaming light through your half-closed blinds, making patterns on the carpeted floor. The digital clock above the stove reads 3.27 am. You peek through the peephole, your eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Charles, shifting from one foot to the other. You swing the door open, a yawn pulling your jaw open. You squint at him, the light becoming too much for your eyes.
“Charlie, what the fuck?” you question as Charles rubs the back of his neck. His hair is dishevelled and his cheeks are a light shade of pink.
“I, uh, I lost my keys and my phone while I was out and I can’t get into my apartment,” He explains sheepishly. You sigh, shaking your head in mild irritation. You step aside to let him in.
“You owe me big time for waking me up at this ungodly hour.” You state, trailing behind him after locking the door. He chuckles a soft ‘of course, chérie’ before heading into your room. He makes a beeline for your closet, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off of his designated shelf. He pulls them on before reaching back and tugging off his shirt.
“How exactly did you manage to lose both your keys and your phone in one night?" you call from outside, a hint of amusement in your voice. He shakes his head. "Long story," He replies vaguely.
He makes his way out, switching on a floor lamp by your bed. His eyes are on you as you collapse on the bed with an exasperated sigh. You roll away from him, facing towards the opposite side of the room. You pull the sheet up to your chest, making sure to keep some for him when he tucks himself next to you. His gaze trails over your figure in the dim light, eyes catching the big 16 and Leclerc written across the back of your oversized, overworn t-shirt. He cocks his head to the side, blinking a few times, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Are you sleeping in my race shirt?” He teases, not having noticed it earlier. You turn at the sound of his voice, letting out a sleep mhmm. Your eyes are heavy, threatening to pull you quickly back into a deep sleep. The look you share is charged with something that makes you grow warm. A familiar feeling blooms in your tummy, a feeling not typically felt towards your best friend. He narrows his eyes at you and you can see a fire beginning to build in his cerulean eyes. He stares at your body, probably longer than he should.
You’re the image of a goddess as you lay on your back innocently, hair sprawled around you, almost like a halo. He can’t help but admire the red fabric against your skin or how it clung to every curve of your body. He can see the dark material of your underwear, poking out slightly from under the t-shirt. His eyes settle on the valley between your breasts and how your nipples have pebbled against the cold air.
A shiver runs through him as he tears his gaze away from you. He rubs at his arms, turning away from you as he does. He clears his throat, setting his watch and wallet on your bedside table.
“Are you cold at all? Do you need another blanket?”
You mumble a quiet no, reaching a hand across the bed. He watches as you make a grabby motion with your hand, beckoning into bed. He hesitates for a moment, suddenly self-conscious of what he is wearing, or rather, lack thereof. His pants are hung low on his hips and his shirt lays on the floor by your dresser. He bites his lip as he slips in next to you. His eyes widen slightly as you grab his arm, pulling him into you. It’s not like this was an odd occurrence, having years of comfort between each other. But his mind always seemed to wander, wondering how you’d feel without the barrier of clothes between you. He adored how you proudly wore HIS name in support during races. Here, the red fabric of your shirt contrasts with the white of your sheets, it feels so much more intimate. He couldn’t get the image of how good you looked with your back to him, his name sitting between your shoulder blades.
You can feel him tense up as you settle under him, his head lying on your chest. The shirt is thin enough that he can feel the goosebumps blooming across your skin as the cold air drifts through the sheets. He has to stop himself from letting his hands (and his mouth) wander over the fabric of the shirt.
It seems to him like you’re drifting back into sleep as he lays wide awake. He feels your hands wander over the large expanse of his back, your touch sending goosebumps down his spine. Your fingers take their time feeling over every mole and scar littered over his skin. You knead his thick muscles, a rumble escaping Charles’s lips as you dip your fingers in every dip and hill. His breath is hot on your skin as he shoves his head in the crook of your neck.
Your eyes don’t feel as heavy when your hands find their way closer to the waistband of his pants. They settle there for a moment before you decide to slip a finger under it, pulling at it and releasing it. It snaps against his skin, a yelp escaping him.
He lets out a laugh, quick fingers poking at your side. You thrash under him, howls of laughter bouncing off the walls. He blows raspberries into the thin skin of your neck, only causing you to squirm further.
The energy slips from the room as you both stop to catch your breath. He’s suspended over you, supporting himself with his arms on either side of your head. The fire you’d seen earlier burns in his eyes as he looks down at you. It burns at the line you’re both afraid to step over, knowing full well that if it burns it away completely, there’ll be no going back. His eyes are locked on yours. They’re dark, their usual blue now as dark as a storming sea. Your eyes trace over the curve of his cupid’s bow and flicker up to his eyes once again.
The warmth in your lower belly returns as he leans down and presses a tantalizingly slow kiss on your jaw. His hand cups the back of your thighs and you're suddenly hyperaware of the thin and increasingly wet fabric of your underwear. You let out a quick breath as he drags his lips over the column of your neck. The hand that isn’t supporting him slides up your body and under your shirt, gently grazing at your ribcage. You slip a hand away from his body, meeting his under your t-shirt. Sliding it higher, you bring his hand up to your breast. His fingers pinch teasingly at your puffed-up nipples, pulling a whine from your lips.
“Charles…” you moan out, eyes opening and meeting his as he pulls away. Your eyes meet, the room going quiet again.
In an instant, his mouth is on yours, tongue swirling with yours. You can taste hints of tequila on his tongue, no doubt the reason why he lost his keys and phone. He moves to sit on his heels and you follow his lips, already intoxicated with them.
His arm wraps around you, pulling you snugly onto his lap as he settles at the head of the bed. The bulge in his pants is pressed deliciously against your crotch. You let out a gasp as he grips tight onto your hips, moving you over his hard-on.
“You look so pretty in Ferrari red,” he murmurs, teeth nipping lightly at your neck. The pads of your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline. A smile tugs softly at your lips.
He hesitates as his fingers drop to the waistband of your underwear. He fiddles slightly with the fabric, mimicking what you had done earlier and snapping it gently over your skin. You felt a gasp get pulled from your chest as his hands began to move under the fabric, pressing into the bundle of nerves at your very center. Your voice comes out in broken fragments:
”Charlie, please…” you beg.
You don’t quite know what you're asking for. For so long, you’d unconsciously ached for him. Your own fingers would find their way into your underwear and with your eyes squeezed shut, you’d try to imagine that they were his. His touch now feels almost overwhelming. You crave the weight of his body pressing you down, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your most sensitive parts —
“Fuck,” he cries out, hips bucking up into yours. He squeezes at your breast, biting at your nipple over the fabric. You go to pull the shirt off, needing to feel his lips on your skin when he stops you, eyes hazy and glazed over with lust.
“No,” he says shaking his head. “Leave it on.” his fingers now travel downwards, pressing at your clit through your wet panties. You take in a sharp breath, head falling back. He circles it, thumb and pointer finger pinching at it slightly.
“Need more,” you slur. He meets your gaze, a soft pink adorning his cheeks.
“Need my cock, mon coeur?” You nod instantly. You go up on your knees, giving him the chance to pull his sweatpants just enough to free his cock. It taps gently at your stomach, precum already beading at its tip. You draw your finger over its slit, a thin sting appearing as you pull away. Charles lets out a groan under you, eyes swimming with desire.
You climb off quickly, pulling off your panties and dropping them to the floor. Charles can’t take his eyes off of you as you swing a leg over his lap, his hands going to take hold of your thighs. His eyes float to where your grab him and bottom out on his cock. The squeeze you give him is so much better than he had anticipated. His mouth falls open as you take him in fully, he can’t believe he’s gone this long without ever feeling you all around him. You grind your hips against his, setting a rhythm.
“t’es une si bonne fille, tu me prends tout entier,” he groans. such a good girl, taking all of me. His hands feel like they have nowhere to go but to the globes of your tits as they bounce deliciously in front of him. He pulls at the hem of your shirt, twisting it and pulling it up. Your tits burst out from under the fabric, nipples pebbling at the cold breeze in the air. He wraps his lips around them, teeth teasing them gently. Your back arches at the feeling, only pressing them further into his face. He was hooked how the fabric of the shirt ripples over your chest and the taste of your skin on his tongue.
“P-putain..” he whimpers, coming up for air. He lets out grunt as he plants his feet on the bed, lifting his hips fucking into you with force. Your lips part as the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberates through the room. His hands go to your ass, fingers digging into the suple flesh as he rocks you against him. Your hands take refuge on his chest, gasping as he hits your sweet spot. You feel so full with him as he continues to move at a steady pace.
He brings his lips up to yours, groaning softly against your panting lips. It only spurrs you further, circling your hips to meet his as he continued to rutting his hips up into you. You can feel your orgasm nearing, a wave of pleasure coming over you. It envelops you, suffocating you as it crashes down.
Charles can’t hold it any longer, lifting you off of him as strings of cum spill from his cock, coating his stomach. You sit on his thighs, just beyond the reach of the spurts. He looks incredible, cheeks red, lips swollen, chest heaving. You feel like you’re under a spell as you drag a finger through the warm cum on his stomach and tuck it between your lips. His eyes seem to sparkle, a new flame appearing suddenly in them.
“Can we go again?” his voice cuts through the suddenly silence in the room. With an innocent meeting of eyes, there is only one response that can escape you lips. There’s a grin playing on your lips, finger still caught between your teeth. An astounding answer echoes through the room with no words spoken, it has the two of you tossing around the sheets until the sun comes up. You’re gonna have to wear his name more often.
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ch6 the wrong john | masterlist | next
tw: idiots in love acting like idiots, reader is insecure i fear
john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin
--
Your cat likes John better than you and you can’t seem to care.
He coaxes her into the carrier with ease and you watch it like you’re not there, instead floating above your body. John’s hands rummage through your dressers, packing underwear and shirts and pants into the same suitcase you used when you visited base. There’s a joke in there somewhere but you can’t seem to find it, words turning to ash in your mouth. Johnny is missing, so there’s no reason to laugh. All you can do is stand in the corner, holding your cat’s carrier, watching a captain commandeer your apartment like it’s a mission. In five minutes, John has fit your necessities into two bags and has you out the door with a hand on your back.
“You didn’t tell me her name yet.” You blink and there’s a black car in front of you, John’s hand pushing you into the passenger seat while he puts your stuff in the back and gets into the driver's side. The cat is on your lap, somehow not throwing a fit at her new home.
“Bubbles.” He hums, gunning the engine and turning the car into the familiar path to the airport. “Bubbles?” You glance out of the window, noting the day is as dreary as you feel. “She has a mohawk. Like Jo- my brother. He’s Soap, so I thought Bubbles…” Your throat tightens. Johnny’s missing and you’re sitting here with your cat, making stupid puns he would love.
John squeezes your thigh and returns his hand to the wheel. The loss of it is a shot to the heart. Now, you’re a victim to him. Sadness is not sexy. It’s painful but you try not to think of it too much. Everything is falling apart anyway.
“We’ll find him, sweetheart. Can tell ya more on the plane.” Everything is in slow motion. Bubbles licks your fingers through the mesh of her carrier and you focus on it like your life depends on it.
“I’m supposed to work tomorrow.”
“Already called ‘em. Y’r on sabbatical.”
“My plants…”
“Left a note f’ y’r neighbors.”
“How can I pay rent if I’m not working?”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. ‘ve got ya.”
You nod and close your eyes, wishing everything away like a bad dream. When you wake, you’re on a small military plane. Bubbles is next to you, buckled in. You reach for your phone to take a picture for Johnny, to show him your military cat, but your hand drops when you remember. The heat of John’s stare burns the side of your face, and it takes a few seconds, but you finally gather enough courage to face him. The look in his eyes is haunting. You can’t tell, but John’s been replaying the moment he lost two of his men over and over since it happened. When he closes his eyes, it’s all he sees. Opening his eyes is worse, seeing you in pain and knowing he can’t do anything to immediately fix it.
“Was s’pposed t’ be an easy mission. They got the drop on us. Would’ve been so easy to take all four but they only took Soap an’ Ghost. Ghost’s only family is Soap so we think they’re goin’ to target you next. They’ve got a vendetta against y’r brother. Old wounds an’ all that. You’ll be on base where y’r protected.” He pauses for a second. It’s now dawning on him that you’ll be a few meters away, the fantasy he’s been wanting, but under the worst circumstances. “Questions, sweetheart?” Only one.
“Will you find him?”
“I will. Don’t care what I’ve got to do to do it.”
When you get to base, Kyle is there. He’s looking worse for the wear, a new scar decorating his eyebrow. “You look very chic, Kyle.” He shakes his head, pulling you into a hug. “‘m sorry, angel. We’re gonna find him.” It’s the first time it’s really hit you. Maybe it’s the fact that this is only the second time you’ve met Kyle and he’s already treating you like family on account of your brother. Tears form in your eyes and he tugs you closer, rubbing your back as you cry. You remember you’re still out in the open, standing in front of countless guards, and start taking deep breaths to calm the tears. “It’s ok, let it out.” You nod against him, then pull back to wipe the tears away. Bubbles meows, desparate for attention, and Kyle’s ears perk up at the sound. “‘m goin’ to walk you to your quarters an’ you’re goin’ to tell me when you got a cat.” John’s already ahead of him, your bags in his hands, so you turn to Kyle and hand him the cat carrier. “So it all started with a dumpster…”
There aren’t spare quarters in the task force’s section of base, so you’re staying in Johnny’s. As if that wasn’t already terrible, you’re across the hall from John’s quarters. John’s disappeared, the bags he packed for you neatly set near Johnny’s bed. Kyle brings you to the room, already having bonded with Bubbles, and promises that someone will be by with dinner. Every second is precious to find your brother, so you can’t blame them both for having to leave.
Your idiot twin didn’t even make his bed before he left. You tidy his room, ignoring your shaking hands, then venture out with a bag of his laundry just to give you something to do. A kind lieutenant in the hallway directs you, and you can feel pitying eyes follow you to the laundry room. A civilian staying multiple nights on base is unheard of, but the rest of the soldiers there are used to the task force operating by their own rules. It seems some groups have left, the building feeling emptier and less lively since you last visited. Or maybe they’re just giving you space in this time of half-mourning, this purgatory of doubt. While you wait for Johnny’s clothes, you try to remember the path to John’s office. It takes you a few backtracks, but you finally make it back to where this all started. You raise your hand to knock, but a bit of eavesdropping reveals there’s at least five people in the room. Not wanting intrude, you go back to Johnny’s room and wait. Waiting seems to be the only thing you can do.
Hours later, after a tasteless dinner of mess hall food, you still can’t fall asleep. It’s past midnight and base is quiet. In your state of delirium, you drag yourself out of bed and outside your room, feet tracing an easy path to John’s room. It feels selfish, seeking him out when your twin is probably in some sort of hell, but you can’t prevent your hand from reaching his door. You knock twice, then curse yourself as the logical half of your brain wakes up and asks what the hell you’re doing. It’s too late to turn back. “Come in.”
John’s sitting at a small desk shuffling through papers. He’s got on blue light glasses you’ve never seen before, and the utter attractiveness of them stops your mouth from opening. He still hasn’t looked up yet, making small notes on the papers in front of him. “What is it?” Finally, John’s head tilts up, then straightens when he realizes it’s you. “I’m sorry, I’ll go-” “Don’t. ‘M sorry sweetheart, didn’t realize it was you.” You twist your hands together, feeling awkwardly uninvited. His space is hardly lived in, no personal effects to be found except a blue blanket on his bed.
“Somethin’ botherin’ you?” You nod, taking a step closer to his desk. “Couldn’t sleep.” He nods back, eyes shining with understanding. Rolling out his chair from under his desk, he spreads his legs in invitation. You answer it silently, shuffling towards him until you’re standing in between them. His actions are so at odds with how avoidant he was in the morning, but you’re too tired to care. Rough hands caress the outside of your upper thighs, then move up to your hips and waist. He rubs small circles, similar to how he did during your bathroom confrontation months earlier, and the motion already starts to calm you. John scoots closer to the edge of his chair until his face is flush to your clothed stomach. Instantly, you reach out to pull him in, hands sinking into the strands of his hair until you feel his glasses poke your stomach. His hands settle above your ass, never stopping their circular caresses. The angle is slightly awkward, a bit uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, namely being this close to the man that haunts your dreams. The two of you stand in almost-silence, breaths syncing until you can’t tell where his start and yours end.
“Sleepwithme.” You pull back until your hands cradle his face, smoothing over the creases your shirt left on his skin. “What?” He releases his hold on you to take off his glasses, setting them down on his desk. “Sleep with me.” Your heart drops, hands leaving his face. The implication that you two only seek each other out for sex is clear, and you can’t even blame him since that’s how it started. He frowns at you. “I’m not really in the mood for sex, I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow or…” John shakes his head, standing from his desk chair. “I meant jus’ sleep, sweetheart. Can’t blame you f’ jumpin’ to conclusions, I know I’m irresistible.” You roll your eyes, shoving him away. John catches your arm and pulls you into him, tucking your head under his chin like you were made to fit together. You let him hold you, nuzzling into him like you did the first night you meant. “I take this as a yes?” You nod against him. John turns off the light and ushers you into his bed. It’s a bit small for two until he tugs you on top of him, chest to chest. Your legs tangle, your arms flaying about for a better position until he tucks them around his broad shoulders. You can feel his muscles contract with every breath, how his heart beats strong as you shuffle your head up and into the crook of his shoulder.
“Goodnight, John.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
When you wake in the morning, your core is throbbing, and not in a good way. Your period’s early, a symptom of how deranged your mental state has become, and it would be fine until you remember the man under you. The man who’s seen you naked but not like this, not vulnerable in a way you can’t control. Early morning sun peaks through his curtains, reminding you that you’ve only slept for a couple of hours. The light reveals a small stain of blood on your pajama shorts and John’s boxers, a bit on his chest since he slept shirtless. It’s your worst nightmare.
“Shit, shit, shit.” You whisper-yell. John’s up and moving before you have the chance to take stock of the situation. Always a man with a plan, he peels you off of him, pushing you towards his ensuite bathroom. He murmurs sweet nothings you’re sure are empty platitudes, just him being nice.
“‘S okay, jus’ some blood, pet.”
“Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”
“Take a shower, be there in a second.”
In the shower, you want to bang your head against the tiled wall. The shock of your period almost erases the memory of Johnny being missing until it comes back in full force, along with worser cramps. Tears stream down your face, washed away quickly by the shower. Everything is unfair, and your hormones join the party to make it worse. That’s where John finds you, wiping away the puffiness under your eyes as the water turns cold.
“None of that, pet.” There’s still blood on his chest and he notices the same time as you do, shucking off his boxers and joining you under the shower spray. It’s not sexy, the first time you shower with John. You feel stripped raw, maneuvering yourself into the corner so he can have the water. John’s having none of it, tugging you into his arms.
“John…” You murmur. Satisfied that you’re clean, he reaches around you to turn off the water. He’s so nonchalant that you’re both bare, that your body is bloated and sore in all the wrong ways.
“What?” He finally replies. Getting out first, he hands you a towel, then grabs another to wrap around his waist. There’s a pair of your underwear on the counter, clean, and you question how he got it without leaving his bedroom. It’s a mystery not worth your time. He hands you a container of pads and tampons.
“Where’d you get this?”
“My cabinet.”
“...Why do you have these?”
“Jus’ like to be considerate is all.”
His thoughtfulness collides with the fact that he has period products for any menstruating woman in his bedroom. Does this happen often? Do women’s bodies sense how safe and nuturing he is and just let loose?
“Jesus, why aren’t you someone’s boyfriend yet?” You mutter it, mainly to yourself, as you’re sticking a pad on your underwear. John’s head snaps up at you, eyes questioning. “What’re ya talkin’ about?” You ignore him in favor of putting on your underwear, stumbling with wet legs until John catches your shoulder. “That. This. All of this. The fucking period products. You’re like a walking template for husbands. How are you single?” Finally, you’re eye to eye with him, gripping your respective towels. His brow is furrowed, stubble slightly outgrown in a way you’re itching to feel. His eyes, normally blue like the ocean, are stormy. “Didn’t think I was single.” Um.
He walks out of the bathroom and you follow him to his closet where he’s digging for new boxers. “You have a girlfriend? How could you not…oh my god. I’m such an idiot. What, is she waiting for you at home somewhere?” Clothed in new boxers, he finally hits you with the force of his full glare. You almost step back under the cloud of his anger. “There is no girlfriend waiting at home. I thought you were waiting for me. Guess I miscalculated.” The weight of his words drags down your shoulders. You sit in his desk chair, mute as he gathers a clean set of fatigues. It’s only when he’s putting on his belt you finally find your voice.
“You thought we were dating?” He scoffs at your question. “Clearly, we’re not. Guess that one’s on me.” You fumble for something to say. “John, I told you, we can’t.” He shakes his head, and you note how he has to try twice to get his belt through his pant loops. “We can call and fuck and sleep, but we can’t date. Thanks for clearin’ that up, sweetheart.” He’s already lacing his boots and you’re still in his fucking towel, dripping water onto the floor. John approaches you and for a heartstopping second you think he’ll kiss you, but he just reaches around you to grab the paperwork on his desk. “Well, hope you feel better. I’ll be out workin’.” You nod silently, tracking his footsteps to the door. “John.” He stops with a hand on the doorknob. It’s the most vulnerable thing he’s ever done. Your tongue fumbles to find the right words, the right order to say them in, but all you can settle on is a “Thank you.” He shakes his head, not turning back when he replies. “I’ll see you later.” You busy yourself with gathering your bloody clothes, finding a T-shirt of his to wear so you don’t step into the hall naked. Tears threaten to fall but you choke them back, refusing to cry over him.
When that nice lieutenant finds you again, she tells you John’s been deployed, and he won’t come back until he finds your brother.
-
is anyone noticing how he uses different petnames based on the circumstances? no, just me? also i swear this has a happy ending we just have some idiots in love.
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#price#price call of duty#price is right#captain john price#angst#tornadothoughts#john price x y/n#simon riley x john mactavish#john price x you#john price x f!reader#captain johnathan price#captain price x reader#captain price#john price x reader#price x reader#price x you#price x y/n#cod 141#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#fic: the wrong john
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That’s What I Like | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Summary: Steve Harrington loved every part of you. There was no denying that. And he especially loved the part of you that he got to see at the end of the day.
Genre: Fluff.
Warnings: Swearing.
Word count: 681.
A/N: My Steve fic I posted yesterday has over 200 notes at the time of posting this and I just wanna say thank you because what?! That’s honestly so surreal to me. I’ve only really written for Mr Daryl Dixon this year and was super scared to post for Steve, but knowing that people enjoyed it makes me so happy. It makes me wanna write for Steve regularly. And who knows. I might just do that.
“Goddamn.”
That singular word was the first thing that reached your ears when you stepped out of the bathroom and into Steve’s room. Your eyes flitted over to where your boyfriend had casually been lounging on the bed, his body now in an upright position as his beautiful, golden-like amber eyes raked over your body. His lips were slightly parted, and his tongue subtly ran over his bottom lip to moisten the dryness.
You looked downright appetizing.
You slightly adjusted your—well, technically Steve’s—shirt on your body, the soft, blue fabric falling down and hugging you just right. Your shorts were riding up just the slightest bit and showed off your beautiful thighs, much to Steve’s liking. His mind was running wild, with no signs of being caught any time soon.
“Holy shit,” Steve muttered under his breath, pushing himself up from the bed to make his way over to you. His hands itched to reach out and touch you, but he did not do so. Not yet. “You look fuckin’ beautiful, Baby.”
You let out a quiet scoff at his words, but you could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth at his heartfelt praise. “Yeah, I bet,” you began in a disbelieving tone of voice. You vaguely motioned over to yourself, hoping to emphasize the way you looked at that moment in time. “This is totally runway model material right here.”
Steve knew you were just joking, but he agreed with your words entirely. “You would put the other models to shame.” And he truly believed that. In his eyes, nobody else in the entire world could compete with your beauty. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect.
You gave him a look that perfectly conveyed how wrong you thought his words were. “Seriously?” you asked rhetorically and laughed lightly, allowing yourself to be pulled into Steve’s embrace when he wrapped his arms around you and yanked you closer. “You find this hot? Wet hair, stained sleep shorts and one of your t-shirts? Plus no makeup?”
“That’s how I love you,” Steve agreed with a lovesick smile. However, his eyebrows furrowed at his own words. “Not that I don’t love you when you’re dressed up and wearing makeup! I love everything about you. I’m just saying that I love you like this, too. You’re—”
You effectively cut off his rambling by placing a soft, tender kiss to his lips, your hands coming up to cradle his face. Steve all but melted into the kiss, his hold around you tightening slightly as he allowed himself to get lost in the taste of you. God, even your lips were perfect, he thought to himself as his fingers flexed against your hips, attempting to pull you even closer.
The kiss ended too soon for Steve’s liking. He could spend all day just kissing you if he could. However, even though the kiss had ended, his hold on you did not. “Not that I’m complaining in the slightest, but what was that for?” he inquired softly, his lips slightly swollen from what had transpired a few moments prior.
You giggled and looped your arms around his neck, gazing deeply into the eyes you had come to love getting lost in. “To stop you from getting into your own head. I know what you meant earlier.” One of your hands slipped into his hair, lightly and gently scratching his scalp the way only you knew he liked. “And also because I love you, Stevie.”
Steve smiled at that. He turned his head and pressed a chaste kiss against the skin of your arm, his eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the light that the lamp next to his bed emitted, an almost golden-like hue colouring his gorgeous brown irises. Steve looked regal in that moment, and you thanked your lucky stars that you got to call the man in front of you yours.
“I love you too, Sweetheart. I love you so fucking much.”
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve x reader#steve x female reader#stranger things#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington drabble
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