#Messi Business Ventures | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lorialia · 4 days ago

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⋆ sweet temptation ⋆

pairing: best friend!han jisung x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors dni.

summary: you and your best friend accidentally devour an entire box of sex chocolates while watching a pirated version of the movie ponyo. now you're left to deal with the consequences.

a/n: this came about after i submitted a similar thirst for @daydreams-after-dark 's birthday month event . . . so if you're seeing this, hi :) thanks for the indirect motivation to start a skz blog and post this. i hope you all enjoy ♡

warnings: dom!hanji, sub fem!reader, accidental use of sex chocolates/aphrodisiacs, dry humping, unprotected sex, very messy and wet, creampie, pet names(baby), possessive language, multiple orgasms, technically there's no verbal consent but they're both enthusiastic

"This is bullshit. I swear it is."

“What do you mean?" Jisung says, staring at you accusingly from across the couch. His wispy black hair falls in front of his round glasses, and his fingers reach up to brush it away so he can give you a halfhearted glare. "I put Ponyo in B-tier. That means it's good."

Your nose crinkles in pure disgust, absolute horror at the dingy laptop placed on your best friend’s ottoman. The screen glitches every once in a while, but you see the brightly colored tierlist clear as day. There’s Ponyo—one of your favorite Studio Ghibli movies of all time, a masterpiece of visual art and fairytale storytelling—in B-tier. Middle of the road. Average.

“It deserves better than just good!” You insist, convinced that he has the worst taste on planet Earth. “C’mon. At least put it up a tier.”

“Next to My Neighbor Totoro? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you!”

“Woah woah woah, language,” Jisung replies cheekily, and you grumble, tipping back to sink your head into the cushions of your best friend’s couch. If he even is your best friend after this anyways.

You and Jisung have been hanging out at his apartment for hours, chatting about basically anything and everything. It’s an especially exciting night; his roommate is out visiting family for the weekend, meaning the two of you have the whole place to yourselves.

“Don’t make a mess,” Minho had said through the phone. “I don’t want to clean up once I get back home.”

So far, you’ve had halfhearted success in baking cinnamon rolls, little-to-no success cooking dinner, and full success in ordering barbeque chicken. The kitchen had barely survived through it all, but aside from an occasional utensil on the floor it’s pretty clean.

Aside from your cooking ventures, you two have taken it upon yourselves to rank all the Studio Ghibli movies on a tierlist. Some of his takes surprise you, maybe frustrate you— but none of them fill you with such rage as seeing Ponyo in B-Tier.

“When was the last time you watched this movie?” You ask, almost demand. Jisung pretends to think for a moment; his soft lips pursing together in contemplation.

“Uhh… when I was twelve.”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” You reach over to his laptop and grab it, typing furiously to find a pirated URL for the movie. “We’re watching Ponyo tonight. No buts.”

“Fine,” Jisung says, extending the ‘e’. Out of the corner of your eye you spot him picking up the empty plastic containers of your dinner. He pouts, lips jutting out exaggeratedly when he finds the tins utterly empty. “Aww man, no more food. I’ll go see if there’s any leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” You idly reply, too busy trying to bypass the stupid ad pop-ups on his computer. You mash a couple of buttons, open and close a few tabs, and boom, you’re in.

Meanwhile, Jisung has gone and returned from the kitchen. In his hands he holds a random box of chocolates that he tosses into your waiting hands. “Found these in the back of the pantry. Probably Minho’s.”

You open the cardboard flap and dig your hand inside, pulling out a rectangle-shaped chocolate wrapped in pretty red tinfoil. You don’t care to read the name—the room is too dimly lit to see anyway—and rip open the package, finding two square chocolates waiting for you.

“Huh,” You comment, holding up the two chocolate pieces. “I’ve never seen chocolates that come in twos before.”

A hand snatches one of the chocolates away and you turn to see Jisung chewing. His adams apple bobs as he swallows. “Mmm, cherry. You should try it.”

You glance at the singular square held between your fingertips, and shrug before popping it in your mouth.

An hour later, you and Jisung are curled up together watching Ponyo. From glances and little remarks here and there, he seems to be enjoying it, and thank god he does. You couldn’t stand seeing Ponyo be misplaced any longer.

During a particularly captivating underwater scene, you reach for the box of chocolates—only to find the insides empty. You blink for a moment, tearing your eyes away from the screen, and realize you and Jisung have eaten them all.

“Aww,” Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but you remove yourself from the pile of blankets to toss the box in the trash. Your best friend remains engrossed in the movie, only shifting to adjust his glasses.

You think to check the brand on the box before you throw it away. It would be nice to get again, after all. The chocolates tasted pretty good—

“Jisung.”

The serious tone of your voice jerks your best friend back into reality, and he hurries to pause the movie. His gaze flickers up to yours with a slight level of concern. “What’s up?”

“These chocolates…” You audibly gulp, and your mind swims from reading the label on the box. “I don’t think these are regular ones.”

“Then what are they?” Jisung crawls over from his side of the couch and leans over your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he speaks. “Weed?”

You point to the packaging. It’s sensually decorated, with elegant lettering and a good number of red hearts littering the front. Right in the center are two words: aphrodisiac chocolate.

Jisung’s eyes bulge wide open and he blinks several times. “Sex chocolate?!”

“Yeah,” You let out a breathless, winded chuckle. Your eyes are equally as wide as his. “How many did we eat?”

Over the next minute, you and Jisung rummage around the couch and collect as many wrappers as you can. With each find, you’re more and more flabbergasted—assuming you two had an equal amount, you can say that you probably had ten to twelve chocolates…each.

“Holy shit,” is the only thing he can say for the next minute. You check the back of the box and discover more lovely news: the recommended amount is one to three squares per person.

There’s silence for the next couple of minutes after that.

The two of you must look so stupid, crouching over copious candy wrappers, dumbfounded by your dual idiocy. What the fuck were you going to do?

Jisung attempts to answer that question in breaking the silence. “So essentially…we’re gonna get super horny.”

“Yeah,” You respond, wincing. “I’m kind of trying not to think about that right now.”

“Well- I mean- You- I- ugh,” Jisung rubs his temples sorely. For once he’s completely serious, no giggles, no jokes. It concerns you as much as it frightens you. “How long until it kicks in?”

“A few hours, it says.”

“Any way to reverse the effects?”

“We already ate the chocolates, Sungie. I don’t think we can get them out.”

“Fuck,” He stares at the empty container. “What are we gonna do then?”

You open your mouth to respond and find it dry. Suddenly you’re hyperaware that in an undisclosed amount of time, both you and your best friend will be incredibly horny. In an apartment together, with no distractions. Just you and him.

You’re tempted to run for the hills. Grab your bag and race home to deal with it all on your own, rather than face this volatile situation and the can of worms that is your undeniable attraction to a man you swore never to date. It feels like the better situation for a split second; enough for you to place one foot on the ground in an effort to stand up from the couch.

Jisung’s head whips up immediately, and the panicked, almost desperate flash in his eyes freezes you in place. It’s almost a plea, a look that stirs something deep in your gut: Please. Don’t go.

You sit back down.

“So…wanna watch the rest of Ponyo?”

By the end of the movie, Jisung moves Ponyo up to A-tier. Normally you’d gloat in his face and criticize his judgmental movie taste—but you can’t seem to get the thought of the chocolates out of your head. It doesn’t help that he's uncomfortably close, his hoodie brushing up against your shoulder with every breath.

He doesn’t say anything as he shuts the laptop, doesn’t look at you as he leans back on the couch. His eyes are distant. Unfocused, dazed like you’ve only seen when he’s dead drunk.

You only need to wonder why for a moment before you notice just how burning hot you are.

Your shirt tightly sticks to you like a vice, and your head fogs like smoke filling the air. The thick pulse in your chest can’t seem to subside, and you feel your skin heat up more with every second that passes.

One sensation rushes in even stronger, an ache from your lower half. Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, feeling for some sort of relief, any sort of relief. God, you’ve never wanted a dick more in your entire life.

And your best friend happens to be sitting right across from you with one.

Shit. No. You can’t think that way about him; you shouldn’t look. He’s your best friend—but your gaze moves on its own and hones in on the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

You glance upwards. Jisung’s cheeks are flushed. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead. He can’t seem to stop swallowing. His pretty dark eyes are not trained on yours but on the way your thighs press against each other for friction. He stares as if he’s devouring you whole.

“Jisung?” You say softly, your voice almost hoarse in your throat. There is no need to whisper. It’s just you and him, in his apartment together, alone.

“…Yeah?”

“Are you feeling it too?”

Jisung still can’t seem to look you in the eyes. He nods, slowly.

You crawl closer.

“Fuck,” He sputters out breathlessly. His hand reaches up to shakily adjust his glasses. Sweat seems to drip down the side of his face and off his chin. He wipes it away.

You inch closer, and with every shuffle you hear Jisung’s breath grow more ragged. His hands move all over himself— adjusting the gray sweatpants you want to ruin so badly, make a mess all over and cum on, brushing away the same strand of hair over and over. He still can’t seem to look at you.

Finally, you arrive right in front of him. You sit with your legs spread wide, your shorts doing little to cover up the arousal starting to drip down your thigh. Your knees, planted on the couch cushion, brush against his legs. His breath stops.

You reach up and gently grab ahold of his chin. Slowly, you turn his head so he comes face to face with your equally flushed face.

“Oh my god.”

In an instant, Jisung’s lips press against yours; he practically climbs on top of you, pinning you down into the furniture. His arms reach and wrap around whatever he can as he drinks from the taste of your lips in a dizzying rhythm. It’s insistent, messy, desperate. Your mouths move in a tangled dance, hoping each to swallow the other whole.

His fingers find the bottom hem of your shirt and hook underneath it to tug it up. You oblige and revel in each and every touch you can get.

Your shirt is shoved above your breasts, and Jisung doesn't bother to unclasp your bra—opting to move the fabric aside instead. He breaks the kiss to ogle at your bare chest. His eyes are lidded and you swear that his pupils are heart-shaped, and he sighs, almost dreamily. Like he's seen a piece of heaven.

“God, you're fucking beautiful,” He mutters from above you. “I'm sorry, I just can't....”

His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, and you whine. Next thing you know, he has his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart so he can slot himself between them.

The friction of his pants against your clothed clit makes you keen—usually you aren't so sensitive, if not for those chocolates. Every sensation seems to be heightened.

"Sungie~" You whimper as Jisung rocks his hips against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. He leans down to capture your lips in his once more, hungry for the hints of chocolate he tastes.

Everything is sloppy and coordinated; he grinds into you like a bunny in heat, groaning at every bit of friction between his gray sweatpants and your cotton shorts. It's hot and stuffy, but you've never felt so good in your life.

"Feel so good, shit-" Jisung mumbles between messy kisses. His glasses are fogged and hanging half off his nose, but he couldn't care less. "Wanna fuck you so badly- you want that? Want me to fuck you- ah, god~ like you deserve?"

Jisung shoves his head down into your chest, burying himself between your two mounds as he presses up on you from below. He kisses your skin and moves slightly to suckle on your right nipple, making you keen. His soft boba eyes peek out to look up at you, dazed and sick with sticky desire.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, throbs under the way Jisung's clothed cock hits your clit repeatedly. You want him to fuck you so bad, need your best friend's dick to split you open.

"Fuck me please," You beg, your voice trembling and thoughts hazy with lust. You've never begged for a man before, but Jisung is simply different in every way. "Please, Jisung, Sungie, please-"

He audibly groans, as if the sound of your voice gets him any closer to heaven. He wrenches himself away from your cunt to slip down his pants just enough for his thick, veiny cock to slip out. Meanwhile, you can't resist slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, to your needy wet cunt. You rub your clit with two of your fingers, whining softly at the stimulation of your swollen bud.

Suddenly, Jisung's hands wrap around the hem of your shorts and panties—he tugs them down all at once, exposing your sobbing pussy to his greedy view. You look up and his eyes are hungry, lidded and clouded with want, zeroed in on your cunt. You think he might be drooling.

Jisung hurries to press his cock against your wetness. He's shaky, almost trembling as he guides his mushroom tip through your folds, his breath coming out in stutters.

Even with just the tip, it's big. You feel like you're split open, and every inch of his cock entering your pussy sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It doesn't even hurt with how wet it is, and he slides in like warm butter. He practically collapses onto you as soon as he bottoms out, his head buried in your neck.

His cock twitches inside you, and you realize through the haze that Jisung isn't moving. He's whining softly, breathlessly, but his hips do little more than tremble.

"Jisung-"

"Don't," He shushes you. His voice is raspy and desperate, and he mouths at your neck between words. "I-I'm trying not to cum."

You whine, wanting any sort of friction—but Jisung doesn't budge. Then you squirm a little, just to feel it a little more, and both of you let out audible moans. He grabs your hips roughly to hold you in place.

"F-fuck-" He swears, and there's a growl in the back of his throat. "Are you trying to get me to cum inside?"

The idea of his cum filling you up sends a rush through your bones. You inadvertently clench around him, and the grip on your hips becomes so strong it might bruise.

"Y-you want it that bad? Fine then. Fucking take it."

Jisung starts a relentless pace; he groans into your neck and holds your hips down so you take every inch of him with every thrust. His tip brushes up against your cervix sweetly, and you keen, your hands tangling into his black hair.

"You're so wet baby-" He mutters, stamping in a word between rough thrusts. "So. Fucking. Tight. God, bet no one has made you feel this good, huh? Say it."

You can barely find the words, letting punched-out moans every time his cock kisses your cervix. "Y-you're the only one, Ji!"

"That's it," He says, his pace speeding up impossibly faster. He's hardly going in a pattern, just bunny fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "This pussy belongs to me, doesn't it? All mine~"

Jisung changes his grasp; he gets a hold of your thighs and spreads them so he can fuck you deeper. It's a welcome change—and you remove one hand from his hair to clamp over your mouth, your moans becoming unabashedly noisy. Your eyes squeeze shut and roll back behind your eyelids. "O-oh Jisung, that feels good-"

"Baby, baby please, I gotta cum- gonna cum inside, want that? You want that?" He says, and his hand shakily moves to rub his palm against your clit.

You cry out, about to tip over the edge. You want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. "P-please!"

Jisung groans loudly, not bothering to muffle the noise as he cums inside. You cum at the same time, whimpering into his tangled-up hair. His hips stutter but they don't halt; he fucks his cum into you lazily. You whimper at the sensation of his warm cream filling your insides. It's messy and deliciously wet.

"Jisung," You mumble out, still feeling a burning ache. You're addicted to the pull of his cock inside your walls. "I- I want-"

He interrupts you with a groan; then his hips begin to pound into you once more, moaning into the skin of your neck. He simply can't stop, even when you let out a high-pitched cry.

"I'm sorry baby- just had to. Your pussy is sucking me in-" Jisung grunts. His voice is nearly drowned out by the wet squelch of every thrust into your creamy cunt. "Just one more, one more, that's it~"

You feel like you're being folded in half from the way he presses you down, your thighs moving to rest on his shoulders. He ruts into you with reckless abandon, and his hands find themselves digging into the couch on either side of your head.

Jisung lifts his head up so it's right above yours, and you see him for the first time in what feels like ages. His glasses are long gone, and his lips are slightly ajar as he groans senselessly with every thrust. The pinkness of his round cheeks and the lidded pleasure in his eyes matches yours; he leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

You moan into his mouth sweetly, and he hums in delight. There's no rhythm to the way he kisses you and fucks you—just pleasure-driven madness, desperation to feel you in every way.

"Mine," He mumbles, almost to himself as he pounds into you desperately. "Gonna cum in you again, fill you up~ my baby, all mine-"

You clench despite the tired ache in your thighs. You want him to cum in you over and over, spill his semen and let him fuck it into you again. You want him completely, irrevocably.

It's this thought that sends you over the edge for a second time; you wail, unable to make out any words as a wave of pleasure washes over you. Jisung messily kisses you throughout, muffling the sounds that escape your lips with his own.

He thrusts a few more times, groaning senselessly into your mouth before finally cumming again. Another warm sensation floods your insides and you sigh in satisfaction.

Jisung crumples onto your body and simply lays limp on top of you. Neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

"Best sex ever." He croaks out with a hoarse voice, and you laugh tiredly.

The next morning, you wake up on the couch. Jisung is laying next to you, his body tangled with yours. He stirs as you shuffle and pull yourself up from the cushions.

"Morning," You whisper, and he responds with a soft hum. His hair is adorably chaotic and worsens as he runs a hand through it. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," He says, and sits up with a groan of pain. "God, my joints. I feel like I blew out my back."

You notice a similar soreness in your thighs, but you tease him regardless. "You old man."

"Shut up," Jisung replies with no real malice. He looks down at you with surprising affection, his boba eyes twinkling with joy. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You say, an amused breath leaving your lips.

"Nothing," He grins cheekily. "Just that I got to have sex with my best friend who I've liked for an entire year."

You blink in shock, and Jisung giggles. "What? You're surprised?"

"No, I mean- yeah," You find yourself stumbling over your words, a pink blush appearing on your cheeks. "I mean, we did fuck yesterday, I just didn't expect you to say it so...bluntly."

"Well I did," Jisung lowers his voice to a soft whisper. He leans in close so his lips nearly brush against yours. "I like you."

"I like you too," You reply bashfully, and you can't resist kissing him. It's slow and saccharine sweet, nothing like the desperate messes you were yesterday. He sighs like a love-struck teenager as you pull away.

"Minho's gonna kill us," He mumbles dreamily. You burst out laughing.

#why did this take so long actually #i mean it took a few days to write but i sat down a couple days ago thinking i'd get it done in a couple hours #anyways i love two stupid best friends <3 #⋆ jinnie's fics ⋆#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you

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hoshifighting · 1 year ago

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Anklet Adorned

Preview: "You like that, don't you?" he says, his voice dripping with arrogance as he resumes his relentless pace. "You like it when I fuck you so hard that even your anklet can't stay quiet." he refers to the charms from the anklet he made for you, making little noises continuously synchronized with his thrusts.

Warnings: Smut, hard slutty smutty hard awesome sex, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, degradation, praising, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, fingering, messy sex, sloppy, chocking, crying, aftercare, doggy style and etc.

Word Count: 3.7k

This smut was created through a request, thank you anon, I LOVED writing this one! (click here to be sent to the request)

Joshua, with his deft fingers and boundless imagination, had a passion for crafting bracelets. Be it beads or strings, he could weave magic with his hands, creating intricate designs that sparkled with personality.

Every day, Joshua would surprise you with a new bracelet, each one a unique masterpiece that told a story. He'd fill you with joy as he slipped it onto your wrist, his eyes gleaming with pride and love. From vibrant colors to delicate patterns, each bracelet was a reflection of his affection for you.

What made Joshua's gesture even more endearing was his knack for matching the bracelets to your outfits. No matter how last-minute your wardrobe choices were, he always managed to craft a bracelet that perfectly complemented your look. His dedication and attention to detail never ceased to amaze you.

One Friday evening, as you curled up on the couch watching a movie, Joshua sat beside you, his fingers busy at work with his latest bracelet creation. You watched him intently, admiring his skill and dedication as he meticulously threaded beads together, lost in his own little world of creativity.

But then, just when you least expected it, Joshua leaned over and gently slipped something around your ankle. Startled, you looked down to see a delicate anklet adorned with an array of pretty charms dangling from it. Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected surprise.

"Surprise," Joshua whispered, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he admired his handiwork.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth flood your heart. The anklet was exquisite, a perfect blend of elegance and whimsy, just like Joshua himself. Each charm seemed to hold a story of its own, and you couldn't wait to hear the tale behind this new creation.

Joshua adored the moments when your legs rested gently on his lap, your smooth skin inviting his touch. With tender affection, he would run his fingers along the length of your legs, reveling in the sensation of your warmth beneath his fingertips. But what captivated him most was the anklet adorning your ankle, its delicate charms dancing playfully against your skin.

As your legs lay draped across his lap, Joshua found himself mesmerized by the contrast of the anklet against your skin tone. The intricate charms seemed to come alive with each movement, casting dappled shadows across your legs as they swayed gently to the rhythm of your breathing.

"So, what do you want to do tonight, babe?" You ask.

"Hmm, I can think of a few ideas." Joshua trails his fingers along the curve of your thigh. "Well, we could keep watching this movie..." his hand ventures higher, teasingly brushing against the hem of your shorts, making you shiver at the touch, biting your lip.

"Or we could find something... more entertaining." you suggest, brushing your thighs together sensually, immediately capturing his attention.

A slow grin spreads across Joshua's lips as he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs huskily, grabbing your thighs harder.

You find yourself lost in the moment, your breath catching in your throat as Joshua's lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue dances against yours, igniting a fiery passion that courses through your veins.

Before you realize it, Joshua is already on top of you, his weight pressing you into the soft cushions of the couch. With a gentle yet firm touch, he guides your legs to wrap around his waist, drawing you closer to him in a fervent embrace.

His hand finds its way to your throat, applying a slight pressure that sends shivers down your spine. It's a delicate balance of pleasure and restraint, a silent communication of lust between the two of you.

As you melt into his touch, surrendering yourself to the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours and his hand on your throat, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your body.

Desperately, your hands roam over the hems of Joshua's clothing, driven by a need to feel every inch of his skin against yours. With eager fingers, you fumble with buttons and zippers, determined to strip away any barrier between you and Joshua.

Joshua chuckles at your needy antics, his eyes alight with amusement and desire as he watches you. Sensing your urgency, he reaches behind him, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

The sight of his toned torso, bathed in the soft glow of the room, steals your breath away. Muscles ripple beneath smooth skin, evidence of his strength and vitality. You drink in the sight hungrily, your heart racing with anticipation as you marvel at the beauty before you.

With a low grow, Joshua leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roam over your body, as he undresses you with skillful hands. Garment after garment falls away, discarded to the floor in a heap of forgotten fabric.

Lowering his head to meet your dripping pussy, until his gaze meets yours, Joshua captures the expression of excitement in your eyes. He latches his mouth onto your cunt, and you melt on the cushions.

As Joshua's warm mouth works its magic on your cunt, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you can't help but surrender to the sensations washing over you. With each flick of his tongue and gentle suckle on your clit, he brings you to the brink of ecstasy, coaxing soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, you instinctively wrap your legs around his head, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the rapture of his touch. The charms of your anklet sway rhythmically against his back and he moans, as he feels the weight of your legs around him, Joshua's excitement grows, fueling his desire to please you even more. With a renewed sense of urgency, he redoubles his efforts.

His tongue slipped inside of your cunt, while he sucked you sloppy, you can feel the slick heat of your arousal dripping down your thighs.

As you feel the impending rush of your orgasm building to its peak, Joshua suddenly pulls his mouth away, leaving you panting and desperate for release. Your legs tremble around nothing, aching for the touch that was just tantalizingly close.

You whine in frustration, your body still thrumming with the echoes of pleasure, craving the exquisite release that eludes you. With a glistening chin and a cocky smirk, Joshua looks down at you, reveling in the sight of your desperate desire.

In moments like this, his softness gives way to a confident dominance, his cockiness taking charge as he watches you squirm and beg for more. He loves to see you in this state, your cries and pleads only fueling his desire to push you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

With a teasing glint in his eyes, Joshua leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers words of encouragement and promises of pleasure yet to come.

"You're so close, aren't you, babe?"

"S-so close!" You protest, your voice tinged with need.

"That's the point," Joshua counters, his tone dripping with confidence. "I want to make you beg for it."

You groan, the ache between your legs growing more intense with each passing second. "Please," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joshua's smirk widens, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you squirm beneath him. "That's it, baby," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. "Beg for me."

You bite your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please," you whisper again, your voice thick with desire. "I need you."

With a satisfied grin, Joshua leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss. "I know you do," he whispers huskily. "And I'm going to make you feel so good."

"Don't stop now Josh, please…"

Joshua's smirk widens, his confidence palpable as he revels in your neediness. "Oh, I won't stop, sweetheart," he murmurs, his tone dripping with promise. "Tell me how badly you want to come."

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal at his command. "I want it so bad," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Joshua, I need to come."

"That's better," he says, his hand trailing teasingly along your thigh. "But not yet. I want to see you beg a little more."

You whine in frustration, but there's no denying the thrill that courses through you at his words. Despite the ache of desire that burns within you, you find yourself craving his dominance, eager to submit to his every whim.

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Joshua leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss. "You're so beautiful when you beg, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "I could watch you squirm all night."

Joshua tilts his head, his gaze fixed on the globs of arousal dripping from you. There's a hunger in his eyes, with a slow, deliberate movement, he reaches out, his fingers trailing through the slick wetness between your folds. You shiver at his touch, a low moan escaping your lips as he explores your arousal with a confident, knowing touch.

"You're so wet for me…" Despite the embarrassment that floods your cheeks, there's no denying the raw, primal thrill that courses through you at the sight of Joshua's arousal.

With a confident smirk, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from your ear. "You like it when I make you this wet, don't you?" he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You can't get enough of me, can you?"

As you lie there, too aroused to think, Joshua takes control with a firm yet gentle hand. With a deft movement, he turns you around, pressing your chest against the couch while raising your ass up for him to see. You whimper at the sudden change in position, your body trembling with anticipation and need.

"Look at you," he murmurs softly, his voice laced with desire and dominance. "All spread out for me like a good little slut."

His words cut through the haze of desire, sending a shiver down your spine as you feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal overwhelming your senses.

But even as you cry, you can't help but feel a sense of surrender wash over you, knowing that in this moment, Joshua's dominance is all-consuming. His soft degradation only serves to heighten your arousal, the delicate balance of pleasure and pain driving you to the edge of ecstasy.

As your tears wet the fabric of the couch beneath you, Joshua's expression softens, a hint of tenderness in his eyes as he coos at you. "That's it, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice gentle against your ear. "Let it all out for me. You know I love it when you're so responsive."

As Joshua's tip teases your entrance, you can feel your core ache with longing, craving his touch with an intensity that consumes you. Every teasing brush against your slick folds sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, heightening your arousal to dizzying heights.

His words send a shiver down your spine, your core fluttering in anticipation as you feel him slowly entering you. The sensation of him stretching you open, inch by delicious inch, is almost too much to bear, but you revel in the exquisite pleasure that courses through your veins.

With each slow, deliberate thrust, Joshua pushes deeper into you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to the couch beneath you, lost in a haze of ecstasy. Your walls clench around him, eager to be filled with every inch of his length as you surrender yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

As Joshua fills you completely, you're so tight around him that he can hardly move, every inch of his length enveloped by the delicious warmth of your core. Joshua almost loses himself in the sensation, his breath hitching at the sheer intensity of your grip. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, a sight that only serves to fuel his desire further.

"You're so tight, baby," he murmurs, his voice laced with awe and desire as he continues to move within you. "I can barely move... but I love it. I love how you grip me, how you take me so eagerly."

With a hard thrust, Joshua elicits a little sound from you, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he drives into you with unbridled force. But it's not just your reaction that catches his attention—it's the tinkling sound of the anklet adorning your ankle, its charms dancing. With each powerful thrust, the anklet chimes, a sweet melody that fills the room with the rhythm of your pleasure.

"Hmm, what's this?" Joshua muses, his cocky smirk widening as he hears the anklet chime with each of his powerful thrusts. "You like that, don't you?" he says, his voice dripping with arrogance as he resumes his relentless pace. "You like it when I fuck you so hard that even your anklet can't stay quiet."

You can only moan in response, your body writhing beneath him as he continues to slam into you, hitting your g'spot with precision each time. The combination of his cocky demeanor and the relentless stimulation has you teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your moans of pleasure growing louder with each passing moment.

As the knot tightens in your stomach, signaling the imminent arrival of your climax, Joshua senses the impending release building within you. With each thrust, he can feel the tension mounting, your body quivering with the promise of ecstasy.

He glances down, his eyes widening as he notices the telltale sign of your impending orgasm—a white ring forming at the base of his cock where it meets your slick heat. It's a visual confirmation of your impending release, a signal that drives him to push you even further towards the edge.

"I can feel you getting close, baby," Joshua murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he continues to pound into you. "I want you to come for me. I want to feel you clenching around me as you lose yourself in pleasure."

And then, with a guttural cry of release, it happens—the knot in your stomach unravels, sending shockwaves of pleasure cascading through your body. Your walls clench around Joshua's cock, milking him for all he's worth as you ride out the waves of your climax.

With a primal hunger still burning in his eyes, Joshua shifts positions, laying you gently on your back. You gasp as the change in position heightens your anticipation, your body tingling with excitement as you await his next move.

Licking three of his fingers, Joshua smirks down at you before slowly sinking them inside of you. The sensation is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you arch your back in response to the overwhelming sensitivity.

You moan softly as his fingers delve deeper, filling you completely and stretching you to your limits. The wet sounds of your arousal fill the air, mingling with the rhythmic swaying of the anklet adorning your ankle.

Your breath catches in your throat as Joshua curls all three of his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. With a high-pitched moan escaping your lips, you arch your back, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation that threatens to consume you.

Joshua smirks triumphantly, his eyes alight with satisfaction as he watches you writhe beneath him, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure. He knows exactly how to push all your buttons, how to drive you wild with need, and he revels in the power he holds over you in this moment.

With one final, powerful thrust of his fingers, Joshua abuses your g'spot relentlessly, driving you over the edge into an explosive climax. You scream in ecstasy as the overwhelming pleasure crashes over you, your body convulsing with the force of your release.

In an uncontrollable surge of pleasure, you squirt, your essence spraying out onto Joshua and the couch beneath you. The sensation is electrifying, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through every fiber of your being as you surrender yourself completely to the overwhelming bliss.

Joshua's eyes widen in surprise and delight as he feels you drenching him with your arousal. He revels in the feeling of your release, knowing that he's the one who pushed you to such dizzying heights of pleasure.

As Joshua feels the arousal surging through him at the sight of you squirting, a wicked idea forms in his mind. He can't help but wonder if you could do it again, this time around his cock. With a primal hunger burning in his eyes, he wastes no time in sliding his length inside you once more.

But as you feel him filling you effortlessly once again, you can't help but cry out, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation. "I-I can't take it," you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to accommodate his size.

But Joshua is quick to reassure you, his voice soft but commanding. "Yes, you can, baby," he murmurs, his hands gentle yet firm as he guides you through the discomfort. "You can take it. Trust me."

Joshua's voice is a husky whisper as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel so good, baby," he murmurs, his words sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. "I can feel you stretching open for me again, taking me so eagerly."

Despite the mess of white cream coating your pussy, Joshua's cock throbs inside you, pulsing with desire as he continues to drive himself deeper into your clenching warmth. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensation.

With each movement, the tightness of your grip around him only serves to heighten Joshua's arousal, driving him to push you even further towards the edge of ecstasy. He revels in the feeling of your slick walls clenching around him, milking him for all he's worth as you both surrender yourselves completely to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

As the intensity of your pleasure peaks, your nails dig deliciously into Joshua's back, leaving marks of desire in their wake. His cock buried deep inside your cunt, you feel every inch of him pulsating with need, driving you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.

With each thrust, the anklet around your ankle sounds ever louder, a symphony of pleasure that fills the room as you ride the waves of your climax. Joshua can only moan in response, his own desire reaching a fever pitch as he feels you tightening around him, your walls gripping him with a desperate hunger.

Feeling the spray of your arousal drenching him and the couch beneath you, Joshua's cock throbs with anticipation, the sensation only serving to heighten his arousal. He can't help but groan in pleasure as he feels you cumming around him again.

Your throat is already sore from the screams of ecstasy that have torn from your lips, your hair clinging to your face in sweaty tendrils as you ride out the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

With a guttural groan, Joshua releases himself inside of you, his hot seed filling you completely and adding to the mess already coating your pussy. The sensation of him pulsating within you sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body, driving you to the brink of oblivion once more, your vision turning completely black.

As your vision slowly returns, you find yourself enveloped in soft covers, the lingering haze of pleasure still clouding your mind. Confusion washes over you as you take in your surroundings, realizing that you're now clean and showered, the evidence of your passionate encounter with Joshua washed away.

Just as you begin to wonder how it all happened, Joshua appears suddenly in the doorway of the bedroom, a cloth draped casually over his shoulder. His eyes light up with a warm smile as he takes in the sight of you, peaceful and serene in the aftermath of sex.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he says with a gentle smile, crossing the room to sit beside you on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

You blink up at him, still trying to process everything that happened. "I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "What happened? How did I get here?"

Joshua's smile widens as he reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "I took care of you," he explains softly. "After... everything that happened, I wanted to make sure you were okay. So I cleaned you up, gave you a shower, and tucked you into bed."

You smile gratefully at Joshua, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at his tender care. "Thank you for taking care of me," you say softly, your voice filled with appreciation.

Joshua returns your smile, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Of course, baby," he replies, his voice gentle. "I'll always be here for you."

Then, he adds with a chuckle, "Oh, and I took care of the couch too. It's all clean now."

Your smile falters for a moment as you gasp, a wave of mortification washing over you as you realize what he's referring to. For a moment, you had forgotten about the mess you made on the couch in the heat of passion.

"Oh no," you exclaim, feeling embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot..."

You feel a rush of relief flood through you as Joshua cuts you off with a reassuring smile, his warm hand squeezing yours gently. "It's all okay," he reassures you, his voice filled with understanding and love.

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for his understanding and support. "Thank you," you murmur, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you relax into his comforting embrace.

But then, Joshua's words catch you off guard, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as he adds, "And you know what?" he adds, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You looked so hot while you squirted."

2K notes · View notes

suguruspit · 3 months ago

Text

A Guide to Eating

How the jjk men like to eat 😋🍑 18+ MDNI pls!

incl: gojo, geto, toji, nanami, higuruma, choso, ijichi

tags: orål sex (f!receiving, higuruma receiving lol), eating from the back, f!ngering, squirting, dry humping, r!ding, dirty talk (geto + toji), first time (choso, ijichi), voyeurism (geto + toji), talking them through, tongue piercings, come eating, overstimulation, cult leader geto (!!!), soft séx (nanami), sub ijichi (love him), first times

a/n: I got a bit carried away with suguru.... sorry he's my favourite I think..... 🙈 (nanami launch....) this was a request but it was on twitter <3

Gojo Satoru - Overstimulation, anywhere he can get you

It's messy. Your head is thrown back against the pillow as you hiccup a sob out at the constant stimulation your boyfriend is giving you, hot wet and dripping tongue gliding little circles around your clit like he's mapping something out, sending burning shocks throughout your body as your thighs strain against his hands.

He has your thighs in an iron grip, strong hands holding them either side of your head as he dives in, slurping and spitting and generally making a damn mess as he eats you out like it's his favourite thing in the world - which, it might be.

Currently, you're in his office at the school, the only two people there but that doesn't settle your nerves any as you shove your hand against your own mouth to stifle the screams as you almost cream on your boyfriends tongue for the third time, saved only by the way he changes his rhythm so that you're on edge. It's been an hour of this, and your pussy is absolutely drenched and throbbing. Your clit is oversensitive but it's the kind of painful pleasure that sends shocks up your spine and that delicious burning in your stomach and thighs.

It's always like this with Satoru, though.

When Gojo eats you out, he doesn't half-ass it at all, he'll take damn near hours to ensure you're gushing the way he likes, sticky sweet slick stuck to his nose and chin as he smirks into your pussy like the arrogant man he is (he holds up to his ego, he's damn good at what he does)

He's obsessed with the way you taste, groans into your cunt with desperation as he shoves a hand down his hips to stroke himself in time with your moans, switches to sucking your clit when you're close, tongue flattening against your entire sex to tease you and keep you on the edge - he loves edging you, thinks the way you drench the sheets with sweat and come is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Satoru can get a bit whiny though, and you chuckle every time he ends up getting impatient with you and adds two lithe fingers into you, curling them up and grinning with glistening lips as you cry out, wriggling your hips to chase your release, and he moans and sucks your clit all throughout it, trying to catching most of it on his tongue, and pops his fingers into his mouth when you're done.

"Tastes so fucking sweet," Satoru moans, eyes closing before they open to show blown-out pupils against electrically sky blue. His cheeks are flushed and shining with your slick, pink tongue darting out to lick your taste off his own lips with a grin. "Always so wet and sweet. Let's go for a new record."

Geto Suguru - semi-public, loves people to know exactly how he gets you screaming and squirming, loves teasing

"Mnh, Suguru."

Suguru chuckles from where he's crouched in-between your thighs, strong hands parting your thighs from where they keep trying to close for the overwhelming sensations you're getting from what feels like every angle. He's got you sat on the table of his conference room, patrons lined up outside to talk him into new business ventures and the likes that your situationship frankly isn't interested in. Everything he needs is right in front of him.

He's been biting marks into your thighs for a couple of minutes now, lathing his tongue over them to soothe them as your thighs twitch and your cunt gets even wetter from the attention you're getting - everything he does is always somehow so fucking hot.

"My favourite little patron, always so responsive." Suguru murmurs into the V of your hips, running his tongue from the top of your pubic bone to your bellybutton, the cool metal of his piercing against your balmy skin making you moan outright. "Always a pleasure to have you here."

"Please.." You whimper, hands scrunching into the fabric of your own skirt that's he's simply pushed up for access, your own fault for wearing a pencil skirt in his presence leaving your gorgeous legs and thighs in plain sight like that. It feels like he's been teasing for hours, and your panties are so drenched they're sticking to your folds, the dampness making them near translucent. "Sugu' please."

"Poor baby," Suguru simpers as he looks at you with mock-sympathetic eyes, a smirk growing on his lips. He traces a fingertip along your covered pussy, making you bite your lip and squirm in his grasp. "Already so sloppy and I haven't even touched you."

"I-" You don't even have enough time to defend yourself, your brain already in an ooey-gooey state from the anticipation that only gets thicker as you feel your panties get peeled off of you, the cold air against your wet sex making you shiver. "F-fuck."

"Mhmm." Suguru nods as he finally finally presses his mouth to your pussy, cold metal making contact with your clit for a brief moment, making you throw your hair back and tangle your hand in his hair.

It's so much immediately, his tongue is so thick and it's delving in-between your folds to lick and suck at you like you're a delicacy. Your slick is practically dripping between your thighs as he starts to trace his tongue around your hole teasingly, squeezing your thighs as a warning as you try to pivot your hips down to force his tongue where you want it.

"Don't be a brat," Suguru's smooth voice commands as he detaches himself, spit and slick shiny on his lips as he looks at you sternly. "Move again and I won't let you finish, sweet thing."

"Okay, 'm sorry." You whimper, forcing yourself to breathe and slow the beating in your chest that increased when he used that commanding voice on you, like he does in his cult meetings. So fucking hot. The words stick to you like syrup and you gulp. "I won't move again."

"Good girl." Suguru compliments, spanking your pussy with the palm of his hand making you jump before he's diving back in, this time the thick muscle of his tongue slipping into your hole and thrusting roughly making you screech as you arch off the table. Through murky sex-logged thoughts you briefly register murmuring outside the door, but Suguru slaps your thigh when he notices your mind wandering. "Let them hear. Pathetic men that could never have you, we're doing them a favour."

Fuck.

He's gliding his tongue through your folds again, wet and fiery and you genuinely sob as he reaches your clit, metal ball pressing against it just right as you feel delicious warmth spreading through your guts. He gently pulsates his tongue as you scramble to shove his face even further into your cunt, making him groan at your enthusiasm, the vibration of his own pleasure making you shiver as you realise you're closer than you thought.

"Fuck, Suguru 'm gonna-" You stutter, hips shaking and jolting as you falter in a rhythm, moaning loudly as he pulls your hips down to ride his face, his nose pressed up against you adding a pressure that drives you mad. "Oh shit, Suguru- I-"

"Go on, then." He says with a laugh, spitting onto your pussy as you start to hit your peak, moaning and sobbing and causing the men outside the room to pause their mumbling. "Beautiful when you come, let me see it."

You hit your peak as he sucks onto your clit, helping you ride through it as you scream his name, struggling to breathe as it seems to last forever, your juices flowing across his face shamelessly.

He pulls off with a satisfied grin.

"Thank you for your donation."

Nanami Kento - loves eating you out, always so gentle, wakes you up to it

You bearily open your eyes, body shuddering as you stretch and finally register what that feeling is that woke you up - your husbands breath against your bare cunt hot and heavy.

"Ken?" You mumble, voice sleep-ladened as you wake up, quickly whining out a moan as he sweetly kisses the bottom of your stomach before trailing them lower to where he wants to be. "Fuck baby, barely 'wake."

Soft lips are wrapping around your clit gently as they suck, his stubble from the couple of nights he's been away burning against you deliciously as he bobs his head up and down. He's always so gentle, handles you like you're the most precious thing in the world and it brings tears to your eyes as you let the pleasure wash over you, your husband running strong arms up your waist and torso, gently squeezing at the soft flesh.

His lips detach with a 'pop' as he kisses your clit sweetly, tongue trailing down your folds and gathering the wetness that's gathered there with a soft groan before he's dipping his tongue into you, making you moan as you shove your hands under the covers to grip at that sandy blonde hair.

It only takes a couple of moments of sloppy sucking and licking to have you coming undone under his tongue, crying out softly as your hips practically ride his face through your orgasm. You're too tired to do anything more than sigh, and you smile as you feel your husband kissing up your body, your thighs to your stomach to the valley between your breasts before his sleepy hair is peeking out of the covers and those hazel eyes are looking up at you adoringly before he gives you a gentle kiss.

"Good morning sweetheart," his gruff morning voice contradicts how mushy his statement is as he frames your body with strong arms, leaning down to kiss you on the lips, chaste and gentle before he deepens it, and you can feel his tip bumping against your folds. "May I?"

You laugh as he bumps his nose against yours, the morning rays from the sun soaked window feeling warm against your skin as you both make a mess of the lovely cotton sheets of your bed.

"You may."

Toji Fushiguro - nasty fucker, doesn't mind cleaning you up, loves when shiu watches but he's not interested in sharing (so he says)

"Can't fuckin' wait," Toji grumbles as he unbuckles his seatbelt, making you look at him questionably before you feel your own belt unbuckle.

"Toji, wha-?" You end up shrieking as he yanks you down the spacious leather seats of Shiu's car, making him tut in the front and say something like 'watch it, Zen'in'. Your skirt is yanked off quickly and your bare ass is sat on the leather so fast that it makes you dizzy. You flush as you feel yourself get wet despite the embarrassment as you make eye contact with a smirking Shiu in the rear view mirror.

"Toji," You hiss, but it's quickly replaced with a moan as he grabs your ankles in huge, strong calloused hands and his lips are mouthing over your clothes cunt, inhaling your scent and groaning as it makes him dizzy. "Are you insane? We're in the car with Sh-"

"Don't say his name." Toji grumbles, glaring at his friend as he laughs in the drivers seat. He flips him off before peeling your panties off with his teeth, groaning as he finally sees your pussy bare and glistening with want. Plump and ready for him. "So fuckin' pretty doll, gonna get a taste, 'kay?"

You don't get time to answer, because he's on you and it's intense. You're moaning like a bitch in heat, shameless as he devours you, the sounds in the car bouncing off metal framework driving you even more insane. You can hear the wet slurping noises he's making as he runs his tongue roughly up and down your folds, attaching his lips to your clit and that fucking scar is causing a rough friction that has you gushing with another hesitant moan as you watch Shiu through hooded eyes.

Toji notices you watching, and glares at Shiu, slapping your pussy and making you jolt before he's pulling away and flipping you over and knocking the breath out of you. You don't have time to regain it, though, before he's propping you on your knees and using his hands to spread you as he eats you from the back.

"F-fuck, Toji." You gape, panting into the interior of the car door as you slowly lose your mind to what your coworker is doing. The noises have only got worse from the position switch and you bite your lip to hold in your syrupy moans. "Slow- slow down, shit."

He slaps the plump flesh of your ass with a groan as he continues to eat you like a man possessed, his nose grinding against your clit as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you and causing slick to drip against the leather beneath the two of you.

You can't even concentrate, your mind lost in a haze of lust as you feel Toji's tongue fucking you impossibly deep, your spongy walls fluttering as you get hurled closer to your release with no mercy, your clit pulsing under his nose as you somehow get off with the ghost of a touch from it.

"Can feel ya, pretty girl. Come on my tongue, show Shiu how good I make ya feel, hm?" Toji says gruffly, throat scratchy from use as switches to rubbing two fingers against your clit quickly, two fingers from his other hand plunging into your wet cunt and curling up against your g-spot ruthlessly. You sob into your arms as your thighs start to shake, and Shiu curses from in front of you, his cigarette drags getting longer and longer.

That band in your tummy gets tighter and tighter, and you're babbling nonsense into your arm as Toji's forearm gets wetter and wetter, the sloshing noises filling the car making your cheeks turn pink.

"Fuckin' listen to her," Toji groans, and that's all it takes to have you creaming on his fingers, that band you felt snapping and you realise with wide eyes you're squirting all over him, what feels like gallons soaking him as he grunts his approval. "Fuck yeah, good girl."

You sob out, and you dazedly notice the rumbling from the car engine has stopped.

"Your one chance, Kong." Toji huffs as he strips himself off, dick already pressing against your quivering cunt making you choke out a moan. "Don't embarrass me."

"I'll upstage you, Zen'in." Shiu's rough voice muses as he opens the door, and you look up at him with drool on your chin. He grins, running his thumb along your chin to collect it. "I'll take what I can get."

Higuruma Hiromi - always desperate, loves when you ride his nose, doesn't believe in work and sex life being separate

"Fuck," Hiromi groans as you work your mouth up and down his length, breathing through your nose as you deep throat him down to the root before suckling gently as you lift back off with a pop. "You're perfect at that, honey."

You giggle as you wipe the come from your lips with your thumb, popping it into your mouth with a smile as your boss and husband runs a hand through his hair with a groan, eyes completely blown out. After such a long day in court, you'd tied your hair up and got on your knees as soon as you'd both stumbled into his office between heated kisses that you're both amazed no one witnessed.

"Pleasure being a service, sir." You playfully say, laughing as Hiromi lightly slaps your arm at the statement. "You're always so tense 'Romi. What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around like that?"

Higuruma just stares at you, before he's scooping you up by the hips making you laugh breathlessly, moaning into his mouth as he places you on his desk and kisses you deeply, tongue tasting himself on you and groaning into your mouth. You get butterflies in your stomach as he runs a hand up your thigh, past your skirt and rubbing with pressure of your wet panties.

"Hiromi," You whisper into his mouth, gasping as he slips a finger into you, your panties shoved to the side. "Baby, what if someone hears?"

"Then they'll hear." He whispers, flushed cheeks darkening as he feels just how wet you are from sucking him off, how debauched you get when he wasn't even touching you. "Try to be quiet, though. Think you can do that honey?"

You bite your lip and nod, and then he's lowering himself to his knees as he buries himself between your thighs, making you gasp before you remember what he just said and you bite down on your own hand with a groan as he circles your clit.

He groans lowly into your pussy as you throb against his tongue, and you have to bite down ever harder to smother the whimper that fights to get out of you. It's so fucking hot seeing him on his knees, and at work no less. His suit all messy and rumpled as he palms himself despite just coming - he always gets so wound up eating you out and you feel yourself getting wetter at the thought.

Pausing from where he's sucking gently on your clit, fingers still working inside of you as you get the papers underneath you wet, he looks at you with hooded eyes.

"Think you can go again when we get home?"

You can't smother the moan in time and someone most definitely hears.

Choso Kamo - begs you to let him eat, borderline delirious bless him, wants you to tell him how good he's being

"Choso, baby, so good," You moan, hands tightening in his black hair as he whimpers into your pussy at the praise, tongue flicking faster as he tries to get you to that delicious peak. "Gonna make me come, Cho-"

"Mhm," He mumbles into your pussy deliriously as he gets desperate, hips rutting against the sheets as he feels your cum sliding against his tongue and covering his tastebuds with that sweet earthy taste of you. He whimpers, suckling on your clit as he feels your thighs give that telltale twitch of your impending orgasm.

"Stop, stop," You gasp, slapping his shoulder and shivering as he detaches immediately, wiping his wet mouth with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asks, full of concern that's just too cute, and you laugh, cupping his chin as you kiss him, before you turn the two of you, straddling him as you shove his chest down so that his back hits the soft sheets beneath him. He looks up at you with flushed cheeks and wide eyes and you grin back.

"Wanna ride your pretty face." You say, and you laugh as he pulls your hips up immediately, reattaching himself with a newfound vigour, making you laugh mid-moan. "Fuck, always so enthusiastic babe."

He nods, rocking your hips with his strong hands and helping you to ride his face the way he knows you like, his nose bumping against your clit, and you look down and notice that your slick is covering his mark making it glossy.

"Fuck. C-coming." You whine, hips faltering and you just let him guide you through it, tongue thrusting inside you as you cream on his face, syrupy come covering his lips and chin as he rides you through it, whining as his hips thrust up into nothing. "Holy shit."

You shakily raise your hips up and off of him, biting your lip as the cool air of the bedroom hits your wet and hot cunt. You look at him and swear gently at the fucked-out look he has on his face, accompanied by the damp spot on his pants.

"Round two?" You pant, and laugh as he spins you onto your back.

Ijichi Kiyotaka - likes you to talk him through it, wants nothing more to please you, skills don't match his shy attitude

"Like that?" Ijichi mumbles, spit strings stuck to his lips as he looks up from where he's kneeling on the floor, fully clothed as you stand above him.

"Mhm, just like that sweetheart." You say softly, biting your lip as he flushes and goes back to flicking his tongue against your clit with just enough pressure. He's always so good when he's following your lead, and you grip his black hair gently, scratching his scalp and smiling as he makes soft noises into your pussy. "You're getting so good at this, honey."

Ijichi nods, doubling his efforts and occasionally sucking on your clit gently, before pulling off to blow on it with cold air that feels heavenly, adding to that delicious tightening of your core.

"Kiyo," You croon, cupping his chin as he looks up at you with soft eyes, spaced out and already so entranced when it's barely been fifteen minutes. "Touch yourself, baby. Let's come together, 'kay?"

He moans, and then he's back to sucking, one hand slipping two fingers into your tight heat whilst the other tugs furiously at his own dribbling cock. He looked close to coming untouched, you couldn't let him go unsatisfied like that. You aren't cruel.

"I'm close, Kiyo, gonna come on your face." You moan, shoving his face deeper, sighing as the pressure is just right. Eyes screwing closed as you pant out little whines. "Fuck, fuck, just like that."

Ijichi sobs into you as he comes into his hand, ropes of white painting his own abdomen and hitting your thigh, the feeling of knowing he's enjoyed it that much is what sends you over the edge, shaking into his mouth as you cry out gently. He sucks you through it, never one to waste a drop. You tap his cheek to let him know you've reached that level of oversensitivity and he kisses you chastely on your navel before he stands up and presses desperate kisses to your lips.

You moan at the taste of yourself, and you're cupping his cheeks as you pull him in for deeper kisses, slipping your tongue into his mouth and smiling with open lips as he moans.

His hair is mussed up and his glasses are all crooked and he just looks so cute when you lead him to the bed, pushing him down gently onto the cotton sheets with a small thud.

"You ever been ridden before, Kiyo?" You ask innocently, running a hand down his stomach and watching the way his dick twitches at the touch.

"N-no," He stutters, before moaning as you straddle his thighs.

"Well, it starts like this..."

~~~~~ 😃💦

817 notes · View notes

tsukisrants · 12 days ago

Text

Prod. By Bangchan

bangchan x reader

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Genre: smut, fluff

Word Count: 12.200

Warnings: Dom/Sub undertones, Rough sex, Oral sex, Fingering, Name Calling, Humiliation, Degradation, Praise, Spit, Breeding Kink, Overstimulation, Choking, Breath Play, Squirting, Daddy Kink (cmon, it’s a bangchan fic), Aftercare, Jealousy, Feelings, Lots of feelings, ecc…

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He’s busy, and you miss him. So much. Too much.

He misses you too, and wants to show you just how much. You let him, cause- cause there’s nothing you wouldn’t let him do to you. You’re his, after all.

Your lips meet, and it’s pretty messy: teeth and tongues clashing against one another, moans morphing into one sound as you both abandon yourselves to each other.

“I love you.”

You don’t known whose voice it was. Yours. His. Both. Neither: who cares.

It’s right, no matter who said it.

smut under the cut<3

(pls leave comments and let me know your thoughts on this,,^^)

You're starting to feel a dull ache in your back after hours hunched over your iPad, studying and taking notes. It’s clear that it’s time to stretch your legs a bit. You push the chair back and lift yourself slowly, each joint protesting more than you expected. A soft groan escapes your lips—a blend of discomfort and relief. You roll your neck from side to side, trying to ease the pressure that has settled there like a heavy weight.

Glancing out the window, you notice the sky has turned dark. Night has descended, fierce and enveloping, pierced only by the gentle glow of the moon casting a silvery light across the room, a soft yet almost aggressive presence. Curious about the time, you lean toward your phone, tapping its dark screen and realizing it's already past eight. He should have returned by now, but you’re not surprised he hasn’t crossed the threshold of your room yet.

“What am I going to do with you?” you mutter to yourself as you step away from the desk and move toward the mirror to your right.

The reflection that greets you reveals a woman who looks somewhat tired and worn, yet you’re relieved to see you don’t appear as disheveled as you feared. Your hair still holds its cleanliness, cascading softly over your shoulders and down your back. The bangs and layered strands frame your face, adding a hint of youthful charm despite the fatigue etched in your features.

You quickly adjust your appearance, slipping on a soft hoodie—one of his, infused with his intoxicating scent. You bury your nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply as if drawing him closer. It feels comforting, a reminder of his presence even in his absence. The shorts you’ve chosen cling gently to your body, flattering your curves, while the socks pulled high on your ankles give you an unexpected sense of height. You slide your feet into your well-worn Air Forces, grounding yourself in familiarity.

As you tuck your hands into your pockets, you catch a fleeting glimpse of the stillness around you. The room feels heavy with unspoken words and unfinished thoughts. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should wait for him or venture out into the cool night.

With a decisive breath, you turn away from the mirror, the weight of anticipation stirring within you. Tonight feels different, charged with a sense of possibility. You open the door and step into the hallway.

Wandering through the long, echoing corridors of the dormitory, a sudden craving strikes you. You pull out your phone and decide to place an order: two pizzas, a Coke Zero, and a slice of chocolate cake. It’s the same familiar order that the app has memorized so well it requires no further input from you. With a few taps, you select “repeat order” and send it off, sliding your phone back into the soft pocket of your hoodie.

As you walk, the vibrant sounds of voices and laughter spill from the rooms around you, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Each giggle and cheer feels like a gentle caress, filling the air with a sense of community that comforts you deeply. You can’t help but smile, relishing this little slice of life that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

The world outside may be chaotic, but here, among these walls, you find a sanctuary of laughter, connection, love, and family.

To reach your destination, you step out of the dormitory and walk a few meters toward the entrance of the building across the way. The cold night breeze grazes the exposed skin of your legs, sending tiny, prickling shivers racing up your spine. You quicken your pace, eager to escape the chill. The entrance looms closer, and as you punch in the code to get inside, a deep sigh of relief escapes your lips. The moment you step through the door, you’re enveloped by warmth that feels almost like a hug, a stark contrast to the crisp night air outside.

A familiar face greets you just inside, and a smile spreads across both your faces. It’s Jaewon, one of the staff members from the recording studio. He leans casually against the wall, radiating an easy confidence that instantly puts you at ease.

“Make sure to bring him back home,” he says with a playful glint in his eye.

“Oh, a simple task,” you reply, shaking your head with mock seriousness as you pull down the hood of your hoodie, letting him see your full expression. “I’ll do my best.” His laughter is infectious, filling the air with a bright note.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you!” he exclaims as you start to move away, your laughter echoing through the empty entrance hall.

You pause for a moment, taking in the space around you. The studio has an almost sacred quality, the walls adorned with soundproofing panels and framed photos of artists who’ve passed through. Each image tells a story, and you can almost hear the echoes of creativity that resonate within these walls.

“Are you staying late tonight?” you ask, genuinely curious, as he glances at the clock behind him.

“Just for a bit. We have a session scheduled,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Good luck with your work, then,” you say, waving him goodbye.

“Ah, good luck to you, he’s in a sour mood!” he says, and you smile at him.

You had imagined it would come to this; you sensed that things weren’t going smoothly. Even when he’s late, he always makes a point to let you know, yet today the last message you received was hours ago, lingering in the silence between you like an unanswered question. You can’t help but speculate that, much like you, he’s become so absorbed in his work that he’s lost all sense of time. You picture him still hunched over his desk, surrounded by scattered sheets of music and the faint glow of his computer screen, laboring over a melody, fine-tuning the recordings from the day.

The thought brings a bittersweet smile to your lips. You know the thrill of those late-night sessions, when inspiration strikes and time slips away. Yet, a pang of worry lingers in the back of your mind. You wonder if he’s okay, if the weight of his creative ambitions is becoming too heavy.

You glance out the window, the night deepening beyond the glass, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. There’s a certain beauty in this moment, in the quiet anticipation of what he might create. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you should reach out, to bridge the gap between you, to remind him that he’s not alone in this.

As long as you exist, he will never, ever be alone. That’s a promise you made and intend to honor, no matter the circumstances.

After a few more steps, you arrive at the large black door that separates him from you. You don’t need to knock; instead, you quickly enter the code, which just so happens to be the date of your anniversary. Yes, it’s a cliché, and yes, the guys have teased him endlessly about it—especially Seungmin—but you know they secretly find it charming and romantic, just like you do.

As you step into the studio, you blink several times to adjust to the dim light—or rather, the near absence of it. The room is illuminated only by the soft glow of computer screens, casting an eerie yet oddly comforting ambiance. You can’t help but shake your head in concern at the conditions in which you always find him working.

He’s there, seated in one of those plush gaming chairs—a thoughtful gift from Felix, meant to help him endure the long hours he spends in this space (which is practically every night).

He hasn’t noticed your presence, and you seize the moment to linger for a heartbeat longer, watching him lost in his world. Even from this distance, you can see the dark circles under his beautiful eyes, remnants of sleepless nights fueled by passion and dedication. You bite your lower lip, feeling a pang of concern as you observe the way the muscles in his arms flex and relax, navigating through sheets of music and tapping rhythmically at the keyboard. There’s something mesmerizing about this scene—the intensity on his face, the way he seems to dance with his work, each keystroke a note in an unseen symphony. It’s both inspiring and heartbreaking, knowing he often sacrifices his well-being for his art. You wish you could ease the weight pressing down on him, to remind him to take a break and breathe.

But as you stand there, a silent observer, you feel a rush of affection and longing, a desire to connect. You want to interrupt this beautiful yet solitary moment, to pull him away from the screen and into the warmth of your embrace. Gathering your courage, you take a step forward, letting the door close softly behind you. The click of the door breaks the stillness, and his head snaps up, his eyes widening as he finally notices you. A mix of surprise and warmth floods his features, and you can’t help but smile, feeling the tension dissolve between you.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence that had enveloped him. “I brought dinner. Well, ordered it. It’ll be here in half an hour, maybe something more.” Just as you finish, he says, “I’m so sorry, baby,” clearly realizing it’s gotten way too late.

You shake your head almost immediately, hushing his protests and offering a soft smile instead.

“Shut up: no apologies. Just hug me, Chris,” you mutter, taking a few more steps toward him.

When you finally reach him, he turns the chair just enough to allow you to drop onto his strong legs. Instantly, his arms wrap around you, and you feel small, protected, safe—truly at home.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he murmurs, burying his face against the sensitive skin of your neck. He inhales deeply, drawing in the perfect blend of your scents, which now seem to intertwine like an intimate melody.

“Yes, I missed you so much,” you confess, grasping the drawstring of his hoodie and twirling it around your finger. You shift slightly on his lap, settling in more comfortably, the warmth of his strong, muscular frame enveloping you like a cocoon.

“Little one,” he whispers, his soft lips brushing against your forehead, lingering in a gentle, comforting kiss. It sends a ripple of warmth through you, grounding you in this moment.

“I missed you too, so much it hurt.”

There’s a pause as you hold each other, the world outside fading away, replaced by the soft hum of the studio and the rhythm of your hearts. You take a moment to absorb the feeling of being here with him, the weight of the day dissolving in his embrace.

“Did you eat?” he asks, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, concern etched across his features.

“I was waiting for you,” you reply with a small smile, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Always the caretaker,” he teases lightly, but there’s an underlying tenderness in his voice. “Let’s eat together. You deserve a break too.”

You feel Chris’s body moving against yours, and you immediately understand that he intends to get up, perhaps to move both of you to the little couch in the corner of the studio, the place where you usually sprawl out when you stay with him while he works. A small, faint whimper of protest escapes your lips without you being able to stop it, and you feel him stiffen slightly as he halts his movements.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his warm voice intoxicating you and making your thoughts even more confused.

"Chan..." you whisper, your hands resting on the solid grip of his shoulder, feeling the muscular structure and sensing the strength hidden beneath his sweatshirt.

"What is it, little one? Talk to me," he encourages, his face tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised—a curious, mischievous expression. It’s the look of someone who knows everything but decides to pretend not to know anything.

"I- I want..." You try to speak, to express what is in your mind, to make your desires more tangible and real, but his hands resting on your hips, gripping your flesh with severity, are enough to send your mind into total and incoherent turmoil.

Bangchan smiles, a mix of sweetness and satisfaction adorning his face that borders on perfection.

You see him push his tongue into his cheek, in one of those expressions he often reserves for the most intense moments of his performances, and just witnessing such a scene up close, no matter how many times You’ve seen it before, makes your legs tremble.

"Use your words, sweetheart. I know you can do it. What do you want? I can't give it to you unless you ask nicely like the well-mannered girl I know you are.”

You experience a shiver, your breath becoming shallow and your heart racing as anticipation and desire intensify within you. Your body feels weak and pliable beneath his touch, as if it were composed of clay. Chris patiently awaits your response, his eyes deepening in intensity with each passing moment, rendering his gaze increasingly difficult to endure.

You find yourself no longer surprised by this. Instead, you accept the situation, surrendering to him and allowing him to take control of your body. You take pleasure in the sense of liberation that arises from the unwavering certainty that he will care for you at all costs, and that he possesses the knowledge to do so in the most effective manner.

“Please, C-Chris. Jaewon mentioned that you’re feeling nervous, and I really want to help you feel better,” you confess, the words slipping from your lips as if they had a mind of their own.

There’s a softness in your tone, an earnestness that surprises even you. The dim light of the room casts gentle shadows, and for a moment, the weight of your own vulnerability hangs in the air.

You try to move closer to him, the distance between you two charged with an unspoken understanding. “I know how overwhelming things can get,” you add, your heart racing slightly as you gauge his reaction, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you in.

His reaction ends up surprising you, as you notice his jaw locking and his eyes get even darker.

His eyes are now crossed by something indecipherable to you, a tempest of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. You can’t help but wonder what could have provoked such a reaction, what shadows lurk in the depths of his gaze.

His hands grip your waist tightly, almost painfully, and a pained sigh escapes his lips, filling the room with an electric tension. Chris seems to be engaged in a fierce battle within himself, each breath heavier than the last.

Jaewon—he's the source of this turmoil. Chris’s jealousy is palpable, simmering like a flame ready to ignite. It doesn’t surprise you; despite the fact that sometimes you can be a little too naive, it’s clear that Jaewon has at least a flicker of affection for you. Not that it matters much to you. Your heart belongs to the man standing before you, the one now consumed by his own insecurities and rage.

As Chris’s grip tightens, you catch a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath his bravado. The way his jaw clenches and his brows furrow reveals a deeper struggle: the fear of losing something he never fully claimed.

It stirs something within you—a desire to reassure him, to bridge the chasm of jealousy that threatens to pull you both apart. “Why do you let him get to you, baby?” you whisper, hoping to break through the storm raging inside him. Chris’s eyes momentarily glimmer with a softness, a fleeting reminder of the sweetness that lies beneath his tumultuous exterior. In that instant, as he realizes how adeptly you’ve read his soul, the warmth washes over him. But you know all too well that this tenderness will soon give way to shadows, and that gentle spark serves as a poignant reminder of why you love him so fiercely.

“Why, you ask?” he scoffs, his voice laced with a mix of heat and frustration, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because you’re mine, that’s why. That kid seems to forget it all too often. Where the hell is the respect, huh? You’re mine, and he knows it. Yet he keeps asking about you—about when you’ll come to the studio. He even dares to talk to you when I’m not around.”

You can see the tension coiling within him, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The protective intensity in his gaze sends a thrill through you, even as you sense the underlying fear that accompanies his jealousy. It’s a double-edged sword: this fierce devotion is intoxicating, but it also makes you wonder about the depths of his insecurities. You want to reassure him, to bridge the gap between his fears and your unwavering loyalty, but the words feel stuck in your throat, tangled in the complexity of the moment.

And- selfishly enough, you want him to feel this: you want him to be jealous of you enough to feel the unbearable need to prove you who you belong to. You can feel his frustration pulsating in the air, a raw energy that seems to crackle between you. It’s as if he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, yearning to let go, to release the weight of his emotions without the burden of overthinking them.

You long for him to embrace that instinct, to surrender to the chaos swirling within him.

In that moment, you wish for him to truly let go—to spill every ounce of his frustration into the open, to share the shadows that haunt him. It’s not just an act of catharsis; it’s a plea for connection.

You want him to unleash everything—the anger, the disappointment, even the fear—because deep down, you know that after the storm, he’ll be the one there to pick up the pieces. You need him to take it out on you: to possess and own you, to give you his pain and rage and to make sure that you take it all.

You yearn for him to trust you enough to confide in you, to see you not just as a refuge but as a safe harbor where he can unload his burdens. You crave that intimacy, the kind that comes from vulnerability.

And you know that once he releases those pent-up feelings, he will find solace in your presence, gathering the fragments and piecing them back together, stronger than before.

“I'm yours, Chan, I'm only yours,” you whisper, your voice trembling like the rest of your body, a delicate confession that hangs in the air between you.

The admission is enough to draw a heavy sigh from Chan, his expression transforming into one of deep contentment. It’s as if your words are music to him, the sweetest melody that resonates in his heart. The warmth in his eyes reflects a profound satisfaction, as if he’s just heard the final notes of a symphony composed solely for him. He leans in closer, the space between you shrinking until you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “You have no idea what that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rich, laced with emotion.

The sincerity in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a warmth that spreads through your entire being. In this moment, wrapped in his arms, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken promises lingering in the air. You can almost hear the gentle rhythm of your hearts syncing together, a quiet testament to the bond you share.

“Let me show you just how much I cherish you,” he says, his tone shifting to something more playful yet tender. The air crackles with anticipation, and you can’t help but smile, feeling the weight of his affection envelop you like a warm embrace. In this sacred space, you realize that it’s not just about belonging to each other; it’s about the beautiful journey you’re on together, filled with shared dreams and whispered secrets. You are his, and he is yours—an undeniable truth that fills your heart with an overwhelming sense of belonging.

“S-Show me, show me how you own me,” you say, daring to challenge him and daring to push his buttons just a little more, just enough for you to finally get what you want, what you need.

“Manners, pretty girl,” he reminds you, eyes gentle yet stern, authoritative enough to make your heart skip a beat as you feel warmth pooling at your belly, spreading down your body and making you wiggle around on his lap, your body flushed against his as you start to feel him harden under you. “Say please?” he adds, and that’s enough for you to lose every ounce of self control you had left.

“Please, please, Chan, please…” you beg, hands moving to grip at the soft texture of his hoodie, in a desperate attempt to grounded yourself, you hips starting to move without you being able to control them as you look for any kind of friction, your legs trembling and wetness spreading over the pretty panties you’re wearing.

“Please, what?” He growls, and one of his hands finds its rightful place against the sensitive skin of your neck.

He grips at it like it’s what he’s supposed to do. And he is.

He takes your oxygen away from you, your face turning the most delicious shade of pink as you try to breathe. Your mind is foggy, and his hand controls your airways as his whole presence controls your soul.

“F-fuck, Chan,” you whisper, your hands shaking as you place them over his forearms- not to pull him away, no. To keep him close, to keep him there, to tell him how much you love it when he chokes you like that without having to say it out loud.

With him, words are pretty much useless sometimes.

You guys can communicate without them, and it’s always been like that.

“Use your fucking words, or else,” he groans, his hand now closing more tightly over your neck.

“Or else what?” you say back, a smirk threatening to spread over your features as you decide to give him the brattiest version of yourself.

You don’t do it too often- not because you don’t like it, but because Chris makes it hard.

He’s sweet, yet he knows you fucking owns you. He knows exactly what to say to make you bend over, to make you cry, to make you obey. Actually, he’s usually able to turn you into a pliant little doll just by looking at you.

But tonight- tonight you need this. He needs this.

And ever so caring, you give it to him. Cause there’s fucking nothing in the world you wouldn’t give him. He knows. It’s clear that he does, because his eyes flash with- with understanding. With desire, and frustration. With possession.

“I see how it is,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sweet. Too much. Too threatening.

He leaves your neck, and air floods your lungs all at once as you gasp and breathe heavily. His hand trails the soft, reddened skin of your neck, caressing it as he admires the handprint he left behind.

Then, Chan’s hand grabs your chin and forces your face closer to his.

“Wanna be a brat? Is that it? You’re so fucking desperate for cock that you decide to be stupid enough to challenge me?”

There it is: the side of him that you so desperately wanted to bring out.

His most stern, dangerous, controlling side.

He hates it, or at least he used to. Nowadays, things have changed, and despite the fact that you’d like for him to take some credit, deep down you know pretty well that it’s all thanks to you. Thanks to your trust and love, thanks to the fact that you’ve always showed him that even when his darkness takes the lead, he’s still full of love and care. He’s still him. He has learned - or more like, he’s still learning - to let go, and to love himself a little more.

And what of himself he still can’t love, you’ll love for him.

“Are you gonna talk or are you gonna fuck me? Because I’m pretty sure that if you old man can’t get it up someone else wi-,” your words are cut off as his hand collides with your cheek, your face turning to the side and more of his marks showing up on your skin. After reassuring him that he’s the only one for you, you know that you can more safely play with his jealousy. And he loves it, cause it gives him a free go at showing you that he’s the only one that can ever own you.

“Pain slut,” he comments, as your reaction to getting hit on the face is, as usual, a loud moan.

He cruelly laughs, watching as you blush and wiggle on his lap. But he doesn’t let you move much, and actually stills you by grabbing your waist, and he pushes his hips upwards, his bulge rubbing viciously against your core, the friction ever so sweet and torturous.

Bangchan lets out a deep groan, and it slips out before he can stop it. The sound hits you hard, sending a rush through your body that makes you want to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension building up inside you. You love him to madness when he lets himself go like this: you love to see him lose his composure, and even more, you love to hear him. Hearing his voice, the way it trembles and how it badly hides all the desire he has for you.

It's one of the most arousing things in the world.

“Wanna get fucked, baby? Huh? Want to get the pussy filled up?”

You can’t help but nod, and you know that you’re practically making a fool out of yourself: to be honest, you really couldn’t care less. Bangchan mocks you as he imitates the pathetic sound you let out and the way you didn't even think to hesitate before nodding along his words and trying to rub against his cock more insistently.

You hear him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sharp sound echoing in the room in a way that almost makes you jump.

“M-mean, you’re mean,” you whisper, your hands tracing his body and resting on his big, strong arms.

His muscles tense under your touch, and you can feel the way he clenches them and flexes them for you, since he know damn well how much you love to feel them- to feel his strength and now how much power he has over you, both physically and mentally.

Bangchan's astonished laughter reverberates through the studio, a sound so jarring that it seems to vibrate through your bones. The humiliation that follows is sharp, disorienting, enough to make your head spin. And yet, in that moment, you realize you love him more than ever.

There’s something intoxicating about how he mocks you, his teasing a strange sort of intimacy. You find comfort in the knowledge that his words hold no real malice, that there's never any truth behind the jabs. You know, deep down, that he loves you—protects you—though his love comes with a sharp edge. He loves you enough to humiliate you, enough to hurt you, because that’s the way he knows how to show it. In his cruel kindness, you find something that both wounds and heals, a paradox you can never quite escape.

“Mean, huh? That’s funny, isn’t it? Since you’re such a pathetic slut for it. Since you beg me with those pretty eyes to be meaner and meaner. Since I know that that pussy is getting wetter by the second.”

It’s the truth: he knows it, and you know it. You both know it, and that truth—the weight of it—only deepens the intoxication. There’s no escaping him, not really. Not now, not ever. And the strange thing is, you don’t want to. Because in that exposure, in that raw vulnerability, there’s a strange kind of safety. You feel naked, completely laid bare, and yet, somehow, protected. You know what’s coming. He will tear you apart, rip through the layers you've so carefully built. But you also know, with an unsettling certainty, that he will always put you back together—because he always does.

And each time, as he pieces you back, it’s as if you’re being remade. There’s a tenderness in his destruction, a care in his cruelty, and with every unraveling, you find yourself a little more whole, a little more yourself. Even if it means surrendering everything, every time, to a love that demands it all.

The relentless stillness of the moment is shattered by his actions: Bangchan grips your hair, his hold firm and unyielding, forceful enough to sting. You let out a pained moan, your eyebrows knitting together in a small grimace. Heat floods your body as he moves you like a mere rag doll.

He lifts you up, pushes you away: you are no longer cradled in his arms but standing before him, who is poised to lift you right after. His eyes scan your body, looking at you as no one ever has, as if you are the only one in the entire world.

You meet his gaze. It’s just him: Bangchan, Chris. Only him, and your desperate need to have him.

“What-“ you try to stay, yet you are unable to finish your sentence as he shushes you.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls- or well, he orders you.

Your words die in your throat as he grabs your wrist into his hand, forcing you to follow him around the studio. And follow him you do, looking like a dumb, lost puppy who’s wiggling his tail at his owner.

Which isn’t that far from the reality of things, if you were to be honest with yourself. You tremble as you feel the weight of anticipation growing inside you, the excitement looming over your body and clouding your mind. You can't think of anything else but the fact that you want to have him, here and now.

“Strip,” he commands you, casually letting himself fall onto the small couch where you usually nap when you come to keep him company while he works on his songs.

The spectacle before you is unparalleled: him, in all his magnificence, exuding power and control, sitting with his legs wide apart on the couch, his gaze rigid and the front of his pants bulging, poorly concealing the excitement he is also feeling.

You already feel exposed, stripped of everything. Yet, after taking a deep breath, with trembling hands covered by a thin layer of sweat from nervousness and excitement, you carry out the order he gave you.

You undress under his attentive and eager eyes, allowing him to observe every smallest movement of yours.

His hand finds its place on his groin, and you watch him touch himself while you remove one piece of clothing after another. Your clothes fall forgotten to the ground until you are left with only your panties on, now damp and wet with your arousal. You’ll probably have to throw them away after this, but it’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make.

“Take those off too, show me that pretty pussy,” he says, his witty tongue escaping his even more dirty mouth to wet his plump lips.

He keeps on touching himself, rubbing vigorously against his dick. He’s still too clothed, and you find yourself whining pathetically as you slide the panties you have on off from your body.

“Not fair,” you say, and he arches his brow in response as he tilts his head to the side.

“What?” he asks, hips moving to meet his own hand, as it’s clear to you that even though he hides it better, he’s as needy as you are.

“Wanna see you- wanna see your cock,” you plea, as a little moan escapes your lips as air comes in contact with your now exposed cunt. “This cock?” he asks, basically gripping at his own hard dick right before your eyes.

A wave of longing stirs within you, as if the mere sight of the scene before you is enough to make your senses tingle with hunger. And there, at the center of it all, he sits right in front of you—an embodiment of temptation, the perfect image of sin itself. His presence is the precise manifestation of every secret desire you've ever harbored, a temptation so vivid, so impossible to resist, that it feels as though the very air around you crackles with the promise of what is going to happen.

“Yes, please, wanna see it- wanna suck it, please, daddy,” you beg, and you can’t seem to be able to stop yourself.

You can see it in his eyes: the way he revels in seeing you like this, feeling you like this—utterly, completely his, a possession he claims with every touch, every glance. There's a possessiveness to him, something primal and unrelenting, as though your very existence belongs to him. You feel his breath falter in his throat when the words leave your lips, the weight of them pulling him deeper into that ownership. You know the effect it has on him, how it makes his mind spin, how it makes him want to pull you even closer, to mark you further as his.

And in that moment, perhaps his head spins as much as yours does. You, his possession, his obsession.

“Then get on your fucking knees.”

As soon as those words leave his lips, your legs give out and you found yourself kneeling in front of him, as you fall on your knees with a soft tud. It hurts, but you don’t mind. Actually, you love the feeling of it, the burn so delicious that it almost makes your eyes roll back.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” he praises you, his eyes locked on your naked body.

Without ever taking his eyes off you, Bangchan slightly lifts his back, and you watch, mesmerized, as he grips the edges of his t-shirt before pulling it up and completely sliding it off his body. He tosses it carelessly onto one of the armrests of the sofa, and you feel your mouth water at the sight of his perfectly sculpted body: muscles defined, imposing, strong, moving in a hypnotic dance as they follow his every motion.

“You’re so hot,” you say, as he finally starts to work on his pants.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he lowers both his pants and boxers down, kicking off his shoes in the process. “Want you to fuck me so bad.”

The air is heavy around the both of you, and you can’t stop yourself from trying to make him- do something.

You look at him through your lashes, you bite your bottom lip, you spread your knees a little wider. And he knows, obviously he does. He knows how you work, and all your little tricks. It’s hard to make him fall for them nowadays.

“Fuck,” he hisses, as his cock is finally freed from his clothes. Every time you see it, it’s like the first time: it’s so big. Big and veiny, strong like the rest of him. The tip is swollen and red, leaking the tiniest drop of his pre-cum, and the sight of it makes you salivate and feel- hungry. Yeah, that’s the word.

“Suck it,” he says, hand sliding up and down the length right in front of your face, “suck my cock, baby. Daddy’s gonna make you choke on it, c’mon.”

You move so quickly you almost fall over, yet you manage to get closer to him and place your hands on his strong thighs. He chuckles at the sight of your utter desperation, but you don’t mind. Actually, the more he laughs at you, the wetter you become.

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you whisper, before placing your hands on his cock. Both of them, since it’s just so fucking big. You grip it at the base, and with eyes full of lust, you stick your tongue out before slapping his dick against your face. It’s heavy, and it kind of hurts a little bit, just how you like it. The smell of it- of him, fills your senses. It’s salty and so so him. You breathe in deeply and nuzzle your face against the skin of his thighs, hand moving over his cock.

“Someday i’ll have you cockwarm me here at the studio. Make you stay on your knees all fucking day, I swear.”

You nod almost immediately, because there’s no chance you’d ever say no to something like that. Or to anything he’d ask from you, but that’s another thing. Chris looks at you like you’re his prey, and he’s- the big bad wolf. Pun intended, of course.

“Didn’t you say you were gonna make me choke on it, daddy? Are you a liar?” you tease, and right after that you slide your tongue all over his cock, from base to tip, focusing on the little slit to taste as much of his juicy as you possibly can.

“You little bitch,” he curses, shaking his head as his hands find their rightful place into your hair, grabbing at it and pulling at it and- hurting you so sweetly. “Gonna fucking stuff you full, see if that shuts you up.”

His cock finds its place into your mouth, and he shoves your head down the length of it so forcefully that you can’t help but cough at the intrusion, your throat hurting as spams overcome it.

“That’s it,” he groans, hips pushing up to thrust inside your mouth, the tip of his cock pushing against the back of your throat as his dick slides over your tongue. “This is all you’re good for.”

You agree, because how could you not? His words burn and rub at your skin the same way his cock rubs at the softness of your tongue. You nod wordlessly over his length, and his moans make the air around of you thicker, as if you could just move your arms and touch it.

You obviously can’t, couldn’t, but the thought is enough to make your spiral: he has so much power over you it’s insane, but comforting. You don’t have to think abut anything other than keeping your mouth open and jaw slack as he forces his cock deep inside your tight little throat.

His precum is salty and spit trails from your mouth all the way down your chin, making it sloppy and messy and wet, just how you both like it.

“Such a tight mouth, a warm little hole,” he groans as his hips buck up against your face, the muscles of his strong thighs tensing as his body is shaking with the pleasure you’re giving him. Tears spill from your eyes as he holds your head down, forcing his dick all the way down your throat, the muscles of it spasming without control as you fight the need to breathe.

“Choke. Shut the fuck up and choke for me, good fucking girl.”

You do live for his praise, for the feeling you get when you’re so lucky to obtain his approval.

You’d do anything to get that feeling, even though he basically praises you just for the fact that you exist. Still, you love that sometimes he makes you work for it, because it makes it way more intense at the end of the day. It’s- it’s like drowning. You’re gasping for air, and you fight with all your strength to keep on being alive. When you’re free to breathe, it changes the perspective of being alive: you understand it’s worth. Life’s worth.

Same thing goes with what he has to give you. You want it, you need it. And after waiting and begging for it… it’s just overwhelming. It gives your entire life a purpose.

“Please,” you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue playing with the red, wet slit to try and gather as much as possible of his thick salty juice. “Wanna get fucked, please, please, fuck me,” you beg, because it’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s what you both crave.

Chan snickers, he rubs his cock over your swollen lips, over and over again, staining them with a glossy, creamy finish.

“What if I didn’t? What if I just fucked this hole and got off like this?”

You almost cry, yet you don’t try to object. You nod, and he chuckles at the sight.

“W-whatever daddy wants, whatever you want, please.”

And it’s the right answer.

Exactly what Bangchan wanted to hear, and it's as if in your head you can hear a small chime ringing, signaling that you've chosen the best option, and that you can move forward, go ahead, continue. He runs a hand through his hair: a thin layer of sweat makes his forehead shine and glisten, and his cheeks are tinged with the juiciest shade of red.

The tension in his muscles betrays him—the rigid set of his jaw, the way his eyes burn into yours, frantic, pleading, but he won’t say it. He doesn’t need to.

You feel it, all of it—the weight of his desperation pressing in, thick and suffocating. You feel powerful because if he looks like this now, it’s only and solely thanks to you. It's your merit.

He’s- he’s in charge, but you still have so much power. Over him. Over his entire being.

He’s yours just as much as you’re his.

You’re all naked and vulnerable, kneeling at the feet of your boyfriend. Your body is screaming at you, yelling with the need to be relieved, but you can’t do anything other than ignore it, cause that’s not up to you: your own satisfaction isn’t in your hands, but in his.

“Finally learnt your place, haven’t you? Or maybe it’s just that you’re so fucking needy that your dumb brain can’t even handle fighting me off anymore, huh?” he pets your cheek, thumb rubbing at the flushed skin with a faux tenderness, “whatever. Get up. Sit on the couch and spread your pretty legs. Gonna fill that pussy up, I need to fuck you.”

You move with such urgency, such speed, that it almost feels like you’re losing touch with your own body, as if the world around you is slipping into a blur while you stay anchored in this moment, in this need. Your knees burn, the sensation sharp and raw. Sweet, too. The roughness of the carpet scrapes against your skin, the friction almost making you lose feeling, but you don’t stop, not even for a second. You wouldn’t be able to even if you wanted. And you don’t.

You really, really don’t.

In fact, you barely notice the pain. The ache in your legs is something distant, unimportant in comparison to the heat building inside you. Your body knows its purpose here, and that’s all that matters.

Bangchan’s eyes are locked on you, unblinking, intense, yet there's something almost amused in his gaze, something quiet, like he's watching a game unfold before him. Like you’re his little toy to play with.

You are. He doesn't need to say a word; his stare is enough. Every movement of yours is like a story quickly unfolding, and he is savoring every page like a starved man. And that’s all you need. His attention, his focus, it fills you in ways nothing else can. It’s enough. Yet you need more. And more. And more. With your legs still tingling, an electric buzz coursing through them, you turn and let yourself fall onto the couch just like he told you to: legs spread wide open and body exposed for him: the soft cushion swallowing you momentarily, offering a fleeting relief.

As you collapse, he rises to his feet in a single, smooth motion. There’s no hesitation.

“Look at you. I haven’t touched you yet and that pussy is dripping with it. Fuck, baby, spread it open for me, will you?” he orders, and his words are so filthy that they make your head spin with how intensely they crush on you.

“Spread those folds, little one. Show me that tiny hole.”

When your fingers reach your own pussy, the moan you let out is basically pornographic.

His, too. It mirrors yours: it’s lower and more dominating, yet sweet.

Sometimes you feel like you could touch his voice if you really wanted to. Which is a crazy thought, but it makes sense for you. Cause everything about him defies the laws of this universe: it goes way beyond.

“F-fuck, look at you,” he groans, as you play with yourself under his hungry gaze. You know your body well, so it takes just a few flicks of your wrists to make your own legs tremble for him. He’s jacking off, and you whine and whine, so desperate to have him inside of you.

“Gimme, gimme…” you beg, tears starting to pool at your eyes. “Begging me so fucking nicely.”

He gets closer.

He grabs your legs, and then bends over. It happens pretty quickly: Chan finds his rightful place between your legs and forces them even more open than they were.

His hard dick rubs against your wet, needy folds, coating his length with your unstopping juices. You both moan, especially considering how long it has been since he’s been inside of you. Which is- well, four days, but for the two of you is kind of a record, to be honest. You just can’t keep your hands off of each other.

And looking at him, at the way sweat dribbles down his forehead, at the way his eyes shine with the light of a thousand stars… who could really blame you? You guys were fucking made for each other. You were made for him. And he? He was fucking made for you. Only you.

“Want your cock so bad.”

Bangchan laughs, before bending over to mouth at the soft skin of your breasts. His tongue slides over the sensitive skin of one of your nipples, while his fingers rub the other.

“Think you can take it? Daddy’s gonna open up that pussy first. Or do you want me to rip it, huh? Leave it gaping for me?”

As he talks, you feel his other hand trace down your whole body. Up until he reaches his goal: the growing wetness in between your legs. His fingers find their place immediately, and your eyes roll at the back of your head as his thumb moves over your swollen clit.

“C-Chan! Please!”

Harder. He rubs it harder, and while he does that his teeth nip at your hardened nipple, sending both pleasure and pain running through your defenseless body.

“It’s empty, isn’t it? I can feel it pulse under my fingers, you dirty fucking whore.”

He pushes two of his thick fingers all the way inside your wet hole. Air gets sucked out of your lungs, and you tilt your head back as your hands find their place in his scalp, grabbing his hair and pulling harshly at it.

“So tight, baby. This pussy is tight and yet it’s been fucked so many times. Made for me, weren’t you? Fucking molded over my cock.”

You nod, over and over again. You tell him that yes, he’s right, you were made for him.

“Aren’t you pathetic?” he mumbles, and that’s another thing you nod for. His fingers fill you up perfectly, even though it’s nearly not enough for you to get off the way you want. Need.

The sound is obscene: your juices slide down his fingers and almost get to his wrist, and you find yourself trying to spread your legs further to get him deeper.

“Kiss me,” you ask, tone whiny and demanding, hands tracing his scalp and neck and shoulders as he detaches himself from your now swollen tits.

Red marks cover your skin, and you can’t wait to see them turn the richest shade of purple in a few hours. He’s always had a thing for marking you up. Your lips meet, and it’s pretty messy: teeth and tongues clashing against one another, moans morphing into one sound as you both abandon yourselves to each other.

“I love you.”

You don’t known whose voice it was. Yours. His. Both. Neither: who cares.

It’s right, no matter who said it.

He rubs himself against your thigh, spreading his pleasure over your flushed skin. As you feel the weight of his dick you can’t help but keep on trembling and begging for him to finally fill you up. You glance down at where his fingers disappear inside of your body, and the sight is one to lose sleep over.

His arm is as strong as ever: veins showing up for the effort he’s putting on finger fucking you, muscles tensing and moving hypnotically, and his thick fingers getting swallowed in by your hungry cunt

“Can’t wait anymore. I need to be inside of you. Now.”

Finally.

He removes his fingers from your body harshly, leaving you gasping for air and crying out as you feel the emptiness hunt you down. He looks- looks at the way you’re gaping for him, hole abused and red and swollen begging him to get filled up. You can’t even think about feeling ashamed. There would be no point. Not right now. And most importantly, not with him.

His eyes shift. He’s no longer focused on your pussy, but he’s rather looking at your face. Make up running over it, making it messy just how he likes it. Chan brings his fingers to his mouth. They’re still coated with your juices, and you look carefully as he wraps those sinful lips of his around his wet digits. His eyelashes flutter and his throat lets out a trembling groan.

“So sweet. Sweet little pussy,” he moans around his own fingers, before switching it up and forcing them inside your mouth, making you taste what was left of your own pleasure and the thickness of is saliva.

You suck, immediately. You rub your tongue over the sensitive skin of his digit just as he takes ahold of his dick.

The tip of it, all red and swollen, gets rubbed against your equally abused cunt.

“Fuck me with it, daddy. C’mon. I need it so bad, please, please…”

It always works. Chan is a sucker for your begging. Always has been.

His hips move sinfully as he pushes his dick all the way inside your pussy in one precise motion. You almost scream, head tilting to the side and tongue lolling out of your mouth.

He keeps on rubbing his fingers over your tongue, over your lips: he does it carelessly, and you live for the feeling of getting treated like a fucking sex toy. His groans are to die for: low and sweet, caring and uncaring.

You love listening to him when he lets himself go, when he sheds all restraint and takes what he desires without hesitation or apology. There’s a kind of raw beauty in his selfishness, in the way he reaches out for everything he wants, heedless of the wreckage he might leave behind.

It’s rare, to get him like this. He thinks too much all the fucking time- but now? Now he’s free. He doesn’t care about what he’s breaking or losing, not in these moments. All that matters is the taking, the consuming, the claiming of whatever satisfies his boiling hunger.

And yet, you can’t stop giving. To him, you offer yourself again and again, without question, without limit.

He takes from you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, with a greed that seems insatiable. Every part of you—your time, your energy, your love—he consumes without hesitation. Even the things you didn’t think you could give, those pieces you didn’t even know existed, the pieces of yourself you thought were untouchable, he somehow reaches. He doesn’t just take what you offer willingly; he finds ways to take more, to claim even the things you didn’t know were his for the taking. And still, you let him. Because there’s something in the way he demands, the way he consumes, that makes you feel both hollowed out and completely alive.

Empty, but with a purpose. Filled up. A metaphor, yes. Also something tangible.

“You’re mine. This, this,” he groans, hands coming down to slap your thighs and breast and forcefully grab them into his strong hands, “this is all fucking mine.”

“M’yours, fuck, right there, harder,” you moan, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. It’s never fucking enough. No matter what, you always crave more of Bangchan. Of the light of your life.

You’re insatiable. Both of you.

“Harder, baby? Look at me, look at me in the eyes when you ask for something, you fucking brat.”

He grabs your chin, forces your eyes to meet. Your mouth is wide open, moans escaping your lips incessantly, voice getting higher by the second.

You have a fight with yourself as you try to do as he says and keep your eyes open. You wanna be obedient.

You feel it deep in your core, an overwhelming certainty that if you cannot give him exactly what he wants, you’ll cease to exist. It’s absurd, you know this—impossible even. You won’t die if you fail to please him, and yet the thought claws at your mind, making every breath feel shallow and incomplete without his approval. Somehow, it feels real, undeniable, like a truth written into the fabric of your very being. And worse, it feels right.

The idea of losing yourself entirely for him, of offering up your life if that’s what it would take, doesn’t just seem acceptable—it feels like destiny.

So… your next words don’t surprise you. And- well, they don’t surprise him neither. He knows you too fucking well.

“Choke me.”

His hand is on your neck almost immediately.

You feel it as if it were your own—a brief, stuttering halt in the rhythm of his heart, a mirrored echo of the one that shakes through your chest. You watch as his eyes deepen, the light fading into the richest, most intense shade of darkness you’ve ever seen. It’s a darkness that beckons, that promises to consume you whole, and you can’t look away.

Then his hand moves, tightening around your neck with a deliberate, unyielding strength. The world narrows to the press of his fingers, to the way your breath falters and slips away. It’s no longer yours—your breath, your control, your very will have all become his, claimed in an instant. And you let him take it all, offering no resistance. Even if the fatigue is screaming at you, telling you to let go and close your eyes- you don’t. You can’t, couldn’t. Ever.

The burn in your lungs spreads, delicious and sharp, a physical reminder of your surrender. Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven gasps, each one precious and entirely at his mercy. The edges of your vision blur, softening into a haze, but you don’t care. In fact, you find yourself welcoming it. It’s intoxicating, this loss of control.

“S-so big. Feel so big inside my pussy…” you cry out. By now, tears stream freely from your weary eyes, and Bangchan can’t resist. He leans down toward you, his tongue darting quickly across your burning skin.

He licks away your tears with a mix of hunger and intent, savoring each drop as if they belong to him, as if they’re his to take. Slowly, he consumes you—not just your tears, but every fiber of your being, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left untouched by him. The saltiness of your tears coats his tongue, and you can see how it makes his eyes flutter and thrust get more erratic.

His pace is punishing, on the verge of being painful.

The sweetest paradox.

Bangchan fucks you over and over again. Pushes his aching cock deep inside your desperate cunt, making it pulse over his length as you try to get him to bury himself deeper with each thrust.

“Look at you. You can’t even breathe, huh? All you can do is get fucked, am I right?”

You want to respond—desperately, with everything inside you. But you can’t. The words stay trapped deep in your chest, locked behind the absence of breath. There’s no air left to give them life, no way to shape them into sound. And yet, you refuse to disappoint him. You won’t. You can’t. Your body reacts instinctively, head dipping in a shaky nod as your vision wavers at the edges. Even without words, you find a way to obey, because you always will. No matter how much it costs you, no matter how far you’re pushed, obedience is instinctive when it comes to him. It’s like second nature to you.

He notices, of course. He always notices. A glint of satisfaction flickers in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable, like a reward in itself. But it isn’t enough—not for him, not for this moment. He leans in closer, the intensity in his expression sharpening like a blade. Then, slowly, deliberately, he lifts his other hand, placing it around your neck to join the first. Now, both hands hold you, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unrelenting firmness. The weight of his touch is calculated, deliberate, and impossibly precise. The pressure is just enough to make you burn, to send a sharp jolt of pain coursing through you, but not so much that it overwhelms. He knows your limits—intimately, perfectly—and he dances along that edge with a mastery that leaves you reeling.

He knows you better than you’ll ever know yourself.

Even now, in this moment of utter control, his care for you is evident. The way his hands move, the way he keeps you balanced between agony and safety, speaks volumes. He’s pushing you, yes, testing how far you’re willing to go for him, but never recklessly. Never without thought. Protecting you, even as he consumes you, is always at the forefront of his mind. You’re his, completely and utterly, and he would never risk breaking what belongs to him.

He guides you—a watchful, loving presence, both stern and compassionate. He leads you to the edge, to the point of no return, bringing you so close to losing consciousness, to surrendering completely to the void—to him, to his desires.

Just as you’re about to be swallowed by the emptiness, just as you’re on the verge of spiraling uncontrollably into the abyss of pleasure, his hands leave your neck.

The release is sudden, and air floods your lungs with such force that the world around you spins, tilting wildly as you gasp for breath. The rush is dizzying, overwhelming, and the sheer intensity of it makes everything else disappear, leaving only the two of you in the storm of sensation. You don’t even recognize it at first- the orgasm way too intense to be given a name. Your pussy aches and pulses and gushes out streams of your pleasure over and over again, tightening around his cock, making it harder for him to move freely.

Your body is overtaken by uncontrollable tremors, and a thin layer of sweat coats your skin, marked by bites—by the imprints of his touch. You don’t even know if you said anything, really. You can only feel and hear the way your blood runs through your blood, ears pulsing with the intensity of the sensations you just experienced.

“Good girl,” he praises, watching you as you struggle to breathe normally again. And even then, he doesn’t stop fucking you. Everything is more intense now- it’s enhanced by the way your orgasm hasn’t actually ceased. It’s ongoing, ravenous.

“Came over my fucking cock, wasn’t even touching your dumb little clit, fuck! Y-you fucking squirted for me, baby. Such a good little hole, I’m so proud of you.”

It’s practically enough to send you over the edge again: one orgasm morphing into another as you rub at your abused clit. Bangchan lets you, cause you’ve more than earned it. Even if usually- your pleasure is his. This time, though, he lets you have it. And you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“W-want you to come, too. Please, C-Channie, inside of me, please? Want all of your cum inside my pussy, want you to breed me, please…”

He loves it. He lives for it, and yet often enough he doesn’t allow himself to indulge into it.

You’ll have none of it though, especially today. Today- it’s for him. Only him.

“Babygirl- you’re fucking playing with fire now.”

It’s a warning—a subtle, almost imperceptible sign that you’ve grown all too familiar with, one that you’ve learned to disregard without a second thought. There was a time when it might have made you hesitate, made you question, but no longer. The only thing that matters is the way his eyes flicker—just for a moment—before they roll back, losing themselves in the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock like a vice.

The sight of him, consumed, his control slipping away, it makes your pulse quicken. That’s what counts. Nothing else.

Now, it’s his turn.

You watch as his body trembles with the effort, each breath coming harder than the last. His skin is alive with a tremor of its own, covered in shivers that tell you just how much he’s enjoying this. It’s rough beneath your touch, heated, and flushed from the monumental physical effort he’s putting in. Sweat clings to his hair, dripping and curling the way you find so irresistible, a stark contrast to the taut lines of muscle across his chest, now straining with each movement. His arms are firm, powerful, holding you in place with a force that leaves no room for escape. You’re helpless, defenseless.

But it’s his hands that draw your attention—his fingers digging into your thighs with a strength that borders on brutal, marking you as his, pulling you closer, tighter, until there’s no space left between you. You can’t go anywhere. You can feel every inch of his tension, every subtle flex of his muscles as they ripple beneath your touch, the weight of his need pressing against you with a force you can’t ignore.

“Gimme your cum, daddy. Make me swollen with it, please. I need it, need it.”

It’s a good feeling.

He spits, and it lands on your face. It’s messy, a little bit of it goes inside your eye- it makes it harder to blink. But you don’t care, cause it’s fucking worth it. He humiliates you, makes you feel small and useless. He uses his hand to rub his spit on your skin, marking you as his property.

“Gonna fucking breed you, baby. Gonna cum so deep inside of you you’re gonna stain your panties for days- fuck. Gonna make you walk out of here with my cum dripping out of you- and I hope he sees it. Hope that fucker sees that you’re my slut- my fucking cum dump.”

Jaewon. Fuck, you’ll bake the dude a batch of cookies for having made Chan lose his temper like this. It’s the best feeling ever.

“Yes! Yes! Please, please, I’m your cum dump, j-just a toy, daddy, please!”

He leans forward.

Bangchan’s forehead rests against yours, and your gazes lock, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle that were always meant to find each other. The connection is undeniable, unshakable, as if something far greater than either of you is pulling you together. The sensation is intense, almost primal in its depth. It roots itself in the very core of your being, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. You know, instinctively, that no words could ever do it justice. No description, no matter how vivid, could capture the raw, visceral power of this moment.

So you let go.

You surrender to the feeling, trembling as it washes over you, and you give yourself to him completely—mind, body, and soul. The tip of his cock rubs at the perfect place- it makes you see stars. You feel it all the way to your stomach, which is probably bulging with the intensity of his thrusts.

Your folds are aching, your clit keeps on pulsing and you know damn well that you’re gonna cum again- as soon as he does. Because for you nothing is more important and valuable than his pleasure. Enough to make you cum all over again, no matter what.

“Mine. Mine, my pussy, my baby, all mine,” he says. It’s- disconnected. Messy. He’s just saying things, calling you name and promising you that you’re gonna get bred. You pet his hair, you pull at it.

You stick your tongue out and look at him with hunger in your eyes as he forces his cock inside your hole a few last times.

“You look like a fucking whore,” he comments, groaning deeply before letting himself go.

He succumbs, falling into the abyss of desire alongside you. He lets himself go completely, his body seized by violent, overwhelming spasms that ripple through him with unrelenting force. And you, calm and yielding, accept it all, embracing him as he shatters in your arms.

He buries his cock all the way inside of your body, and you feel it pulse with every sprout of cum that he lets out. Over and over again. You feel it- warm and thick and dense. You cum with him, because of course you do. And you do it more for him than for yourself. You do it cause your pussy tightens up for him and makes his orgasm way more intense. He says so, too.

“Take it. Good fucking girl. All my cum baby, daddy’s cum is breeding you.”

It is, or at least you hope so.

It would be a waste otherwise. You want it to take, and you know it’s crazy, but you don’t care. You’ll give him anything, everything.

“So good, daddy. I feel so full, t-thank you.”

He kisses your forehead. Sweet, despite being still buried to the hilt inside your gaping cunt.

Despite the fact that cum is dripping from your hole and sliding down his cock- all the way to his balls. Messy. Messy. Messy.

“So polite, baby. You’re my princess, right? I love you so much.”

His words carry the taste of a smile, warm and intoxicating, and you can’t get enough of it. It’s as if each syllable wraps itself around you, pulling you closer, filling every corner of your being with an insatiable need for more. You bite your lip, the gesture both instinctive and deliberate, as your fingers trace the strong lines of his shoulders. The touch is soft, almost reverent, as though grounding yourself in the reality of him.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice low but unwavering. “More than anything else.”

The words fall between you like a promise, heavy with truth, with an undefined purpose, and the way he looks at you in return makes you feel as though the whole world could fall away, disappear in a fleeting instant, and you wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t matter.

“Thank you,” he adds. You know why he’s thanking you, but you shush him anyways.

“Don’t. Don’t thank me, baby. There’s no need.”

He scoffs, placing soft, gentle kisses on your cheek and down your neck.

“I know. Wanna do it anyways, so please let me, okay?” He smiles, rubbing his cheek against yours before sliding his nose over your skin, trying to touch you in any way possible.

“Okay. Just this once.”

He’s satisfied with your response, and you let him take a moment to recover—truthfully, this moment of tenderness is as much for you as it is for him.

He’s putting you back together. Piece by jagged piece, he’s gathering the fragments of you, reshaping them, giving them new form and color. His touch is gentle, reverent. He caresses you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your skin, and his lips find yours in soft, lingering kisses. You return the gestures, mirroring his care, your hands and lips speaking the language of gratitude and love without the need for words.

His fingers tease along your side, the touch light and playful, and you respond with a mischievous grin, sinking your teeth into his shoulder in a playful bite. It’s a small act of rebellion, an answer to his teasing, and the way he chuckles softly in response fills the air between you with warmth.

“Mean puppy,” he reprimands you, and you wiggle your eyebrows, “wasn’t I a cat?” you ask, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“A hybrid? Wasn’t that something you were reading the other day?”

You blush, but you’re kinda happy he remembers everything you tell him despite how busy his life is.

“Yeah, but I’m not one. You are. Wolf hybrid.”

He howls. Of course he does. He’s- he’s the love of your life for a fucking reason, after all.

And you wouldn’t change what you just have for a thing in the whole world.

You both get dressed slowly, taking your time, and he helps you clean up. With a soft smile, he reaches for the brush you keep here at the studio and gently untangles your messy hair. You always leave a small bag with a few of your things here—essentials for the long hours you spend keeping him company. It was his idea, of course. He bought everything you might need, insisting that you leave it here.

It’s one of the countless ways he shows you he loves you, small gestures that speak volumes.

“Damn it! The pizza!” you exclaim suddenly, just as you’re pulling on your hoodie.

Bangchan laughs, the sound light and carefree, as he checks his phone, which had been sitting on the table nearby. It’s much later than you’d realized, and you probably missed the call when your phone rang.

“It’s fine, baby,” he reassures you, slipping his jacket on with ease. “I’ll just run to the shop across the street and grab something, okay?”

You pout a little, feeling disappointed because you’d wanted everything to be perfect. But he’s quick to notice, and even quicker to fix it. He steps close, his hands warm on your face as he kisses that pout away, effortlessly melting your frustration in the way only he can.

Then, with that familiar cheeky grin, he tousles your freshly brushed hair, undoing his work on purpose. The playful act earns him a sharp glare from you, but his laughter in response is worth every second of your mock indignation.

“Be quick? Please? I’m hungry. Starving. I’ll probably die if I don’t eat, actually.”

He shakes his head, shoving his wallet inside the pocket of his pants. “You’re not gonna die, baby. I promise.”

He opens the door of the studio, ready to leave.

Fortunately, you spot the obstacle before he has the chance to trip over it.

“Channie, watch out!” you exclaim, pointing at the floor.

His expression shifts to one of confusion, his eyes widening slightly as he follows the direction of your finger. On the ground, two pizza boxes lie in an awkward heap, a small note resting on top of them. With a sigh, you drop onto the couch, crossing your legs as you settle into a comfortable position, content to watch how this unfolds.

He crouches down, gathering the boxes to his chest, his brow furrowing as he grabs the note. You study his face while he reads it carefully, his lips moving faintly as he takes in the words.

“I tried knocking, but I figured it was better to leave. Hope it doesn’t get cold. —Jaewon.”

You feel heat rush to your face, a wave of embarrassment washing over you as the situation sinks in. But he just smiles—a smug, satisfied sort of smile that only adds to your growing mortification. Shaking your head, you try to hide your amusement as he crumples the note in his hand and, with a casual flick of his wrist, tosses it over his shoulder. Somehow, it lands perfectly in the trash can.

“Show-off,” you mutter under your breath, though you let it slide this time.

“Pizza!” he exclaims, his voice triumphant and brimming with energy, as though he’s just won a hard-fought victory. With the heel of his foot, he kicks the door closed behind him, the soft thud signaling the end of the brief interruption.

A smile lingers in the air between you—yours, his, what difference does it make? It belongs to both of you, in a moment that feels perfectly, unmistakably yours.

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flemingology · 1 month ago

Note

christmas request - you get sexy christmas lingerie and surprise leah with a lapdance (which inevitably leads to smut)

unwrapping you ─ leah williamson x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: you leave leah's best surprise for last

warnings: implied smut (18+), lap dance, language but also a whole load of fluff

wc: 3.9k

a/n: most unrealistic part in this fic is chicken soup and sandwiches being one of leah fav foods (god forbid that woman eats something colored). in other words... how does one write a lap dance????? this is not full-blown smut. i didn't really feel like including that in this series, but i hope i still did your request justice. <3

Your first Christmas with Leah had been perfect.

Your lover woke you up this morning to breakfast in bed, Leah wanting to make use of the fact she finally perfected the one recipe she knew – fluffy pancakes. You thanked her accordingly with a couple fierce kisses that soon turned into way more than either of you had planned, the two of you finally rolling out of bed a good two hours later, messy hair and flushed cheeks a testament to what you had been up to in bed.

You took a warm shower together, and then set foot outside for a light Sunday morning stroll through London's Christmas markets. You walked side by side, one hand occupied with holding Leah's, other hand nursing a hot chocolate. You took your time on each stall, admiring all the handmade ornaments, pieces of clothing and so many other things that were up for sale. You managed not to spend too much, not getting anything more than a small extra present for your sister and a cute little ornament you would add to your table decoration for the team dinner on New Year's Day.

Back home, you made a quick lunch. You heated up some leftovers from the night before, when you made chicken soup and some sandwiches, one of Leah's self-proclaimed favorite dishes that you made. You spent the rest of the afternoon lounging about, gliding from one Friends episode into the other, drifting in and out of sleep in each other's arms on the couch.

It wasn't until evening came around though, that the best part of the day took place. You had kept the best for last; the presents. Normally you weren't one to wait for the evening, but Leah claimed that it would be cozier, and you had to agree. Your apartment was coated in a warm glow from the mood lighting all around, a couple vanilla-scented candles adding to the cozy atmosphere, you and your blonde lover cuddled up on the couch, a pile of unopened presents ready to be attacked on your coffee table.

As promise to one another, neither of you went overboard. Leah had quite the tendency to spoil you, but you wanted none of that. And to your surprise, she actually stuck to her promise. There were 5 presents on the coffee table; 2 for your girlfriend and 3 for you. Unbeknownst to Leah, though, her 3rd and arguably best present of the night, was already unpacked and waiting for her under your layer of clothes.

A couple days ago, while Leah was at training, you ventured out into the busy streets of London for a final surprise for your girlfriend. You were more than happy with the two presents you had at hand, but you couldn't shake the thought in your mind that had been there for the past couple of weeks, to buy a new set of red, lace lingerie – one that you knew would drive her completely nuts.

So with that secret in mind, you and Leah started opening your presents. She insisted you opened the first one.

"For you, my love," she said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as she handed you the first of her presents, the smallest one. You inspected the envelope, not able to make much from it on first glance. It looked elegant, though, a golden glow coming from the paper. You carefully opened the envelope, revealing a light green card with pastel accents. You couldn't really figure out what it was just yet, but with a little nudging from your girlfriend in the right direction, your eyes lit up as it dawned on you. "You booked us a weekend away?"

Leah nodded, a soft hum leaving her lips. "I know you've been wanting to get away for a little while," she started, taking one of your hands in hers. "I've been busy. You've been busy. But we can take a couple days for ourselves and for us. It'll be nice." Leah had a tentative look on her face, her eyes scanning yours, as if she was gauging whether you were actually happy with this.

Leah was right. The two of you had been extremely busy lately – your girlfriend's football schedule ramping up, and it seemed like the winter months had brought an influx of people wanting to buy estate, leaving you with a tremendous amount of work that you more often than not also took home.

You quickly gave Leah a fierce nod after you realized you got caught up in your thoughts, leaning towards her and pressing a soft kiss against her lips. "Thank you, I love this. I love you. We need it. It'll be good," you mumbled against her lips, your hand cupping her cheek and giving her another peck before you pulled away.

"My turn," you said excitedly. You grabbed the smallest one, a square box delicately wrapped in an elegant-looking black wrapping paper with silver accents. "This looks neat," Leah chuckled, and you bit your lip in apprehension as you handed her your first present. Unlike you, Leah wasn't so delicate with unwrapping presents. She was all ripping and tearing, nothing graceful about her movements. She'd never been a patient one when it came to things like these, and in all fairness, you couldn't blame her. Forever a kid at heart, Leah loved presents.

You got pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a faint gasp escaping your lover's throat. You searched Leah's eyes for any emotion but you couldn't read it, your heart starting to beat a little faster. "Babe, this is...," Leah inspected her present a little closer, "this is gorgeous." She carefully lifted the golden watch out of it's holder and held it in the light, the timepiece brightly reflecting the cozy hue in your apartment.

You'd first gotten the idea when you noticed Leah was online shopping the other day, looking for a new watch. You knew she liked to have a couple, alternating between them based on what outfit she'd wear. She'd been speaking about a new golden one for a while now, the one she had had lasted its time and she wanted a new one. Ever the observer, you'd made a mental note. A perfect Christmas gift.

Leah sported a bright smile, her gaze now pointed towards you. "Thank you, I've been looking at getting a new one, this is perfect," Leah took your hand in hers and gave it an appreciative squeeze, putting the watch back in it's holder and carefully placing the box back on the coffee table. "You could wear it with the black suit you have for New Year's Eve, it'd look really good," you said softly, Leah replying with nothing more than a suggestive wink.

Your blonde lover reached back over to the presents, grabbing a little silver bag and handing it to you. "We're staying in theme," Leah chuckled. You raised your eyebrows at her before your fingers made quick work of untying the knot, revealing a fine, silver necklace with a little L on. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you took in your present, admiring the way it glistened. "I know this seems like I'm basically claiming you, but I wouldn't have bought you this if you hadn't told me about a million times that you wanted one of these."

You let out a breathy laugh, throwing your head back against the couch. "Just for the record, I have no problem with you claiming me." You locked eyes with your girlfriend and saw a little twinkle in hers, to which you surged forward and pressed a firm kiss against her lips. "Thank you. You wanna help putting it on?" Leah nodded eagerly and twisted her body towards yours, clasping the necklace around your neck. Her fingers ghosted over the L that now hung between your collarbones. She kissed your lips once more, lingering a little before she pulled away again and sat upright.

Your next present for Leah was something you knew she'd be over the moon with. Arsenal through and through, your girlfriend had been collecting vintage Arsenal kits ever since you remember. Signed, worn, match kits, training kits, your wardrobe was full with her Arsenal memorabilia. There was one missing though, Arsenal's home shirt from the 2005/06 season, their last year at Highbury. You stumbled across it on Vinted a couple months ago and couldn't believe that it hadn't been picked up yet. The shirt was in perfect state, Thierry Henry's name and number splayed out on the back of it. You paid no mind to the price and ordered it immediately, knowing just how happy your girlfriend would be with it.

You passed her your second present. She felt around a little. "It's definitely clothing." She fumbled around a bit longer with the wrapping paper, before you interrupted. "Le, baby, how about you just open it and see what's inside instead of guessing." Her cheeks blushed a faint red but she complied nonetheless, once again very ungracefully tearing away at the wrapping paper.

Leah's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she took sight of the burgundy shirt. You couldn't really tell with the lack of proper lighting in the room, but you swear you saw a couple unshed tears in her eyes. She quickly made work of the plastic layer around the shirt, holding it up in front of her. "Check the back," you said softly, reaching out towards your girlfriend and resting your hand on her leg that was slightly bouncing, testament to her excitement.

Leah turned the shirt around and you saw her smile growing impossibly bigger. "Babe, genuinely, what the fuck." You chuckled and shuffled closer to her, leaning your head on her shoulder and admiring the shirt along with her. "Nice one, eh?" Leah turned her face towards you and she cocked an eyebrow. "Nice? This isn't just 'nice', this is incredible," Leah scoffed. She turned the shirt back around, feeling the fabric, checking the label, as if she was still not sure whether this was real. "God, you've outdone yourself, y/n. I can't top this."

A smile tugged on the corners of your lips, pressing a soft kiss against Leah's cheek. "I knew you'd love it." Leah folded the shirt neatly and put it down on the coffee table next to the watch, turning her body towards yours. She cupped your cheeks and pressed a tender kiss against your lips, saying so much more than words could grasp. "You're amazing. I love you so much."

Leah pecked your lips another couple times before she retreated and set back against the armrest of the couch. "If I knew an Arsenal shirt was all it would take for you to be so expressive with you love, I wouldn't have waited this long," you said teasingly, earning a grunt and a playful swat at your thigh from your lover. "I am expressive with my love. Don't start on me!" A light giggle fell from your lips and waved away any further protest by grabbing Leah's hand and pressing a soft kiss against her palm. "You've got one more from me," Leah announced giddily, removing her hand from yours and grabbing the final present from the table. "This one's a bit more... sentimental."

You raised your eyebrows at your girlfriend, trying to read anything into her expression, but failing. "Sentimental...," you pried. "Yeah. Just open it. You'll see." You took the present from Leah's hands, the package laying relatively heavy in your hands. You carefully unwrapped it, each tear of the paper revealing a little more of Leah's final present. Eventually, you realized what it was. A handmade book of the last three years of your relationship. The book was littered with polaroids, screenshots of messages, souvenirs from places you went together, movie tickets, little notes you left for her to find on days you were out the country, and so many more. You could feel a stray tear making its way down your cheek as you scrolled your way through the book, catching it as quick as possible before it could fall on the paper and ruin anything. "Gosh, Leah,..." you mumbled, "sentimental is one way to put it, yeah," you said, muttering out the words past the obvious lump in your throat, sniffling a couple times as the memories unfolded underneath your fingers.

"You like it?" Leah's voice sounded small, and it almost agitated you, because you didn't even know how to begin voicing to her how much this meant to you. Leah wasn't one for the big romantic gestures, nor was she very showy with her affection, so for her to do something like this, to put so much time and effort into handcrafting this, it meant the world to you. You lifted your head and locked your gaze with your girlfriend's, a small frown etched between your eyebrows. "Le, please,..." you breathed, "do I like it?" You scoffed, and shook your head lightly at how ridiculous you found the question. "This means so much to me, Leah, you know that." You felt the blonde nudge a little closer to you, resting her head on your shoulder and looking at the polaroid your fingers seemed to linger on. "Remember that night?" she said softly, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder.

"Of course I do," you said matter-of-factly. It was a polaroid you'd taken on the first time Leah slept over at your apartment. You'd been over at hers plenty of times, but somehow her sleeping over at yours felt like a step up. She'd come over and brought your favorite Italian take-away. Initially you both insisted on cooking together, but a long day at respectively football and work lulled you both into the comfort of having a meal prepared for you. You lounged on the sofa for what felt like hours, talking about everything and nothing until you settled for watching a film wrapped in each other's embrace. Somewhere during the night, though, you felt like the air had shifted a little. Touches lingered a little longer, kisses were a little sloppier, leading to the first time you made love to one another later that night. It was messy, clumsy and very nervous, but it was perfect. Perfect, because it was yours.

The memories flooded your mind and you couldn't help the jolt of arousal that coursed through your body upon remembering the events of that night. You leaned your head against Leah's, pressing a kiss against her temple. "As much as I would love to look through all of this right now, I've got one last present for you," you said softly, coaxing her head off your shoulder, carefully closing the handmade book and placing it on the coffee table. You tried to ignore the little insecurity that crept underneath your skin when you thought about Leah's final present. Deep down, you knew she'd love it, but you always felt a little apprehensive about things like this. The lingerie was one thing, the lap dance you were planning on giving her a whole other. "Another one? But it's not on the table?" Leah's eyes scanned around the room, clearly confused as to where you could've hidden another present. "It's not there, Le," you chuckled at the expression on her face. "It's upstairs. You stay here, I'll be right back," you put a hand on her chest and gave her lips a chaste kiss, standing up from the couch and making your way up the stairs before she could quip back a response.

You thanked your former self for having already put on the lingerie before Leah came home this afternoon, one less thing to worry about now in your nervous state. You slipped off Leah's your hoodie and sweatpants you'd been wearing, your girlfriend insisting that she wanted you to spend tonight in cozy clothing. You braved a look at yourself in the full-length mirror in your bedroom, and you felt some of the insecurities melt away. You looked good. The lingerie hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating all the curves you knew Leah loved so much. The longline bra was snug around your waist, the lace perfectly outlining the curve of your breasts. The thin red bottoms left little to the imagination, the waistband – accentuated with a little ribbon – just underneath your belly button. They gave prominence to your strong, tanned legs, likely your favorite thing about this set. You gave yourself an appreciative nod and pulled a robe out of your shared wardrobe, draping it over your half-naked body, giving Leah an extra layer to take off. You quickly decided to also pull a pair of red heels out of your wardrobe, putting them on and making your way out of the bedroom before you could doubt your choice of footwear. You stood at the edge of the stairs and took a steadying breath before you started making your way down. The clicking of your heels alerted Leah immediately, not able to delay her seeing you until you were downstairs.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in your outfit, and she put her phone down that she was mindlessly scrolling on to pass some time while you were upstairs. You could see a little glint in her eyes as you took the final step of the stairs, making your way back over to the couch at a tantalizingly slow pace. The air had most definitely shifted, Leah's intense gaze locking with yours as you slowed to a stop right in front of her. A smile tugged at your lips and you grabbed Leah's chin between your thumb and index finger, coaxing her face up towards yours and pressing a dizzying kiss against her lips. "I told you I had one final present," you mumbled against her mouth. "Why don't you discover what's underneath this robe?" You softly bit Leah's bottom lip as you let go of her lips, a lust-filled haze now clouding her eyes as she thought about what could be underneath the robe.

Leah's fingers made quick work of the knot tied around your waist, leaving the piece of clothing to fall to the ground, revealing your lingerie. "Oh," Leah's breath hitched in her throat and you would've grown insecure about her reaction if you hadn't seen the twinkle in her eyes. You were hit by a flurry of confidence and you twirled around, shaking your ass a little while your back was facing her before you turned back to face her. "Fuck, babe, this is..." Your girlfriend's words got caught in her throat as she let her eyes rake over your body once more, making sure she wasn't dreaming. You'd worn lingerie for her a couple times, after she had voiced how much she'd love it if you tried a couple sets. But never had it been a thing outside of the bedroom. You'd worn lingerie sets, worn sets underneath robes for her to discover, but it always happened in the comfort of your own bed. This, though, was a next step. A slight blush coated your cheeks as you felt Leah's intense gaze on you. She reached out one of her hands and looked up to you apprehensively, "Can I?" A smile tugged at your lips and you let out a light chuckle. "I'm all yours."

Leah's hands roamed all over your body, from your waist, to your thighs, to your lace-covered breasts, your calves, your ass, your girlfriend didn't leave a spot untouched. It wasn't long before her touches grew needy, and you put a hand against her chest to stop her, not wanting the rest of her surprise to get lost in her own excitement. "Le, wait," you said. Her eyes flicked up to yours, and you noticed how wide her pupils had gotten. A smirk made its way onto your face as to what would happen next. "You've been so good to me. Let me do this for you, okay?" You didn't await Leah's response. Instead you pulled Leah forward a little, and turned your body around, spreading your legs sitting yourself down on her lap. You couldn't ignore the doubts that crept in your mind about what you were doing, because you had never done anything like this. You'd sat on Leah's lap, plenty of times, but you'd never given her a lap dance. You did your research, naturally, you even watched a couple videos – although you had to click those off due to the abundance of secondhand embarrassment you experienced. Either way, you tried to calm your nerves by thinking how much Leah would love this, no matter how good you were at it. She never failed to voice her love for your bum.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you leaned your back against Leah's chest and gave a tentative roll of your hips against her lap. The slight hitch of your girlfriend's breath didn't go unnoticed to you and it gave you the fire in your belly to continue your ministrations. You started grinding your hips against hers in a steady but slow rhythm. You alternated between moves, gently bouncing up and down Leah's lap or popping your hips every now and then, every reaction you pulled out of your girlfriend fueling your confidence. You could sense Leah was a bit unsure as to what to do with her hands, but as the time went on and she felt herself getting more and more aroused, she started guiding your body along with her hands. She aided your movements, pushing you down against her hips, loving the way your behind brushed her core with every gyration of your hips.

A couple moments passed and an idea popped into your mind. You leaned back into your girlfriend, your head resting on her shoulder as you looked up towards her and your gazes locked, a small frown etched on your face that was driving Leah wild. You locked lips with her and you couldn't hold back the breathy moan that escaped your lips at the feeling of her mouth against yours. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, and it perfectly encapsulated the building pressure between the both of you. You tried moving your hips in an eight-figure, which pulled a groan from your girlfriend. "You're driving me crazy," Leah whispered into your ear, softly nipping at your earlobe as she kept her hands firmly on your waist.

You let out a breathy laugh that soon turned into a whimper as Leah's hands moved up towards your breasts, palming them and placing kisses against your back as you rolled your hips back into hers. One of your arms was placed on Leah's thighs, holding yourself up, and you threw the other around your girlfriend's neck, letting your nails rake over the skin on the back of her neck. Your moves grew frantic as you felt arousal building in your core, your gyrations less measured and less precise, the more Leah's hands started to wander all over your body. Any remnants of your earlier insecurity long washed away, you were more than pleased with how your final present for your girlfriend turned out. "God, Le, you feel so good," you breathed out as you let your head fall to her shoulder once again, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. A particularly harsh thrust of your hips against hers caused Leah to groan again, digging her fingers into your sides as she whispered in your ear.

"Bedroom. Now."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #england wnt #lionesses

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laurenairay · 4 months ago

Text

witness all your joy - A. Svechnikov

Summary: Andrei finds himself in Cabo during bye week, where he’s facing the ex-boyfriend of his friend turning up, while managing his feelings for that friend.

Also known as: friends to lovers while dealing with a bad ex.

This is my entry for @misshoneyimhome's Birthday Festival Challenge! I had a lot of fun with this one, so I really hope you like it! Happy (early) birthday Sophia!

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: mild angst, pining, confrontation with terrible ex-boyfriend, some bad language, self-deprecation, hopeful ending

Title from I lived, by OneRepublic

Sun, sea, sand. Exactly what you needed.

When your friends had invited you away with them at the end of January, you hadn’t hesitated to say yes. The NHL bye week may be inconveniently timed, but considering the chaos of the Family Christmas that had just passed, you were more than ready for some actual relaxation.

And Cabo was exactly what you needed.

A private plunge pool in your suite, the hotel’s own private beach, swim-up bars, a full spa with all the massages you could possibly choose from, and incredible food? Not to mention how close it was to the vibrant nightlife but still giving plenty of privacy in the hotel itself.

The best part of it all though? Actually spending time with your friends.

Sure, half of them were in serious relationships, but the group of 15 of you that had gone away together were having a blast. With their busy schedules, alongside your own moderate schedule, having time to just have fun together like this was rare – especially with Andrei. Your tall Russian friends was just as sweet as he was generous, giving out smiles and laughter and hugs as easy as breathing, almost as easy as his blushes from Marty’s teasing.

It wasn’t exactly a secret amongst the women in the group that you had a thing for him, but in all the time you’d known him you’d both never been single at the same time. Until now. Your messy break-up at the end of last year (hence the chaotic Christmas) had been exactly why you needed this break away in the sunshine with your friends, and for the first time, Andrei didn’t have a pretty petite blonde girlfriend attached at the hip.

The girls said it was fate. You knew it was a coincidence.

Either way, you were more than happy just to let yourself look at his bare muscled chest and thick thighs in those short swimshorts without feeling any guilt whatsoever. It was almost enough.

Sun, sea, sand. Exactly what he needed.

Andrei knew that moment that Pyotr told him you were joining the group heading to Cabo (along with Freddie, Jarvy, Marty and his wife, Brady and his wife, Neci and his girlfriend, and a few other assorted women), he was going to have a hard time saying no himself.

Despite the fact that seeing you in a bikini was sure to be the end of him.

From the first moment he’d met you all those years ago, he’d been head over heels. You’d always had a boyfriend though – always the same, tall, tanned, gym-rat type with a killer smile – so he’d tried to distract himself with other girls, but none of them had been enough, as nice as most of them were. Most of the guys knew he had a crush on you, with only a few including Pyotr knowing how deep his feelings truly ran. There was just something about you that had hooked him in right from the start, and that heart-racing cheek-heating rush wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

Especially not now that he knew you were single, just like he was.

Maybe it was fate.

Maybe he needed to take a chance while you were all here in paradise to let you know how he really felt about you, just like Pyotr (and Marty, and Jarvy, and even Freddie) said. But how could he, when all eyes were on you and your eyes were not on him?

3 days into your trip (after a morning on the private beach and an afternoon at the spa with the girls), the group ventured down to one of the bars near Cabo San Lucas marina, ready for an evening of dancing and drinking. You had dressed to impress in your favourite slinky little dress, light make-up just highlighting your glowing skin (the heat in Cabo was no joke), and you were ready to dance until your feet hurt.

If you could take your eyes off of Andrei and his half-buttoned baby blue shirt, of course.

A couple of rounds of shots with the group couldn’t hurt to get the night started at least. As soon as the vodka was dealt with, Nykki grabbed your hand to beckon you to the dancefloor, Neci just rolling his eyes fondly at her antics, and soon enough all of the girls were in the middle of the crowd, immersed in the music. You lost track of time as you swayed to the beat, some of the guys joining you all for a few songs before leaving back to the booth that Brady had reserved for you all.

It was exactly what you needed.

Before you knew it, a couple of hours had passed, and you were more than ready for a few drinks. Nykki left the dancefloor with you, heading back to fuss on her boyfriend while you headed to the bar. Or at least you tried to head to the bar, until a large body blocked your path.

No fucking way.

“Looking good, baby.”

“I am not your baby,” you shot back, scowling up at your ex-boyfriend, “what the hell are you doing in Cabo, Mark? In January?”

Of all the places. And all the timings. Why was he here now? It had to be coincidence, right?

“I’m on a stag do for one of the guys from work…”

Of course he was.

“…I’m just as surprised to see you, don’t get me wrong. But when I spotted that sweet little ass swaying on the dancefloor, I had to say hello. Seems like fate brought us back together again, hm?”

The unmitigated gall.

“You lost all rights to stare at my ass when you cheated on me, asshole,” you spat.

It wasn’t just the once, either. Walking in on Mark and another women had been heartbreaking, even more so when you found out it wasn’t even the first time he’d slept with someone else. No, your ex didn’t even bother denying it, even going as far as to brag. Thankfully you weren’t living together, but it still hurt that the man you had been starting to see a future with hadn’t even contemplated a future with you.

The yelling and the crying and the cursing to the heavens had left you running on empty, made even worse by the fact that all of this came to light the week before Christmas – to say your family took the news well was an absolute lie. Hence the chaotic Family Christmas that you’d come all the way to Cabo to get over, and oh look here he was ruining everything again.

The last thing you needed right now was to be around him, not when you finally felt healed.

“You’re still mad about that?” he laughed, rolling his eyes, “come on, let’s just have some fun in the bathroom hey?”

Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Your friends were right, what the hell did you ever see in this guy?

“You’re a joke. Leave me alone,” you said sharply.

But as you moved to step around him, Mark grabbed your forearm tightly, stopping you in your place. You tried tugging your arm out of his grip but he just squeezed harder, making you wince.

“Let go of me!”

“I wasn’t done talking. Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“I swear I’ll make a scene, Mark, don’t even try me,” you hissed.

Mark rolled his eyes again. “Always so dramatic. I’m just being friendly.”

The audacity.

But before you could retort, you felt a body move to stand behind you. The familiar cologne immediately set your frayed nerves at ease, as did the warmth of his torso.

Andrei.

“You are not her friend. She clearly doesn’t want you touching her. Let go of her arm, now.”

The growled words emanating from Andrei’s chest made your breath hitch in your throat, surprising your ex enough for him to drop his hold on you. Out of instinct, you leaned fully backwards against Andrei’s chest, letting the heat of his body calm you, but as Andrei moved his hand to your hip to steady you, Mark’s face dropped into a sneer.

“Of course you’re fucking him now. I always knew you had a thing for him,” he scoffed.

What the hell?

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Andrei warned.

“Or what?”

Mark took one step forward, anger in his eyes, before he suddenly froze, eyes going wide as he looked over your other shoulder. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was standing behind you and Andrei, if you were narrowing down your options.

“Is there a problem here?”

Thank fuck for Freddie.

“No, this scumbag was just leaving,” you said, voice a little shakier than you’d like it to be.

“Good. Why don’t I make sure he knows where the door is,” Freddie said flatly, brooking no argument as he loomed over you all.

You waited until Freddie had herded Mark far enough away from you before turning to face Andrei, weak smile on your face even as you missed the heat of his hand on your hip. The anger on his face surprised you, him still glaring across the room, until you rested a hand on his chest to draw his attention back. Andrei’s face immediately softened.

“Are you okay? Is your arm hurting?”

“I think I’m okay? And no, it’s only a little red, I don’t think it’ll even bruise,” you said, shaking your head, “How did you even know I was upset?”

He looked a little hesitant to answer, before his expression fell a little sheepish.

“I saw you from the booth. Your body language…I could tell you didn’t want to be near him. And the moment that Nykki said who she thought he was? I couldn’t just stay across the room, I’m sorry.”

Andrei could read your body language that easily?

“Hey, no, don’t apologise. I’m glad you came over, really. I’m pretty sure I would’ve had to do something pretty drastic to get him to leave me alone otherwise,” you said, huffing out a bitter laugh.

The soft concern on his face shifted into a hardened expression. “I hate that he’s even here, in Cabo of all places. I hate that he was trying to ruin your night. What did he even want?”

“The same old sleazy bullshit, like he hadn’t even cheated on my multiple times,” you sighed.

With the way pure rage flitted across Andrei’s face, you were glad you hadn’t told most of the group the true details of why your relationship ended.

“You are better off without him,” Andrei said firmly.

“I know,” you mused, “but thank you.”

“What can I do? How can I help?”

His sweet words made your heart ache, the difference between him and your ex-boyfriend irrefutable.

“I don’t know. I-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Freddie appeared back at your side with an unimpressed look on his face.

“That asshole is long gone. He made enough of a fuss at the door that security took notice as well, so he walked off rather than lingering,” Freddie explained, rolling his eyes, “sorry you had to deal with that. Are you okay?”

Almost as sweet as Andrei.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” you grimaced, “I’m mostly okay, but I think I’m done with the night? He’s kinda ruined the vibe for me.”

Freddie nodded his understanding, but Andrei frowned.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” he asked.

You tried to ignore Freddie’s smirk. Now was not the time.

“I don’t want you to cut your night short,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’d rather make sure you get back safe, if that’s okay,” Andrei replied.

Oh wow.

“I’ll let the others know,” Freddie volunteered, innocent smile on his face.

You narrowed your eyes up at him, but he just blinked. You had no doubt exactly what Freddie was going to be telling the group. Andrei blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, before seeming to steel himself.

“If you really want to go, then let’s go, yeah?” Andrei said, smiling softly.

You really were a sucker for that smile.

After a quick goodbye hug with Freddie, Andrei guided you out of the bar with a hand on the small of your back, the cooler night air washing over you like relief as the two of you started walking down the street. You glanced up at Andrei with a small smile on your face, but his gaze was a million miles away, expression so serious that it made the smile fade from your lips. Was he really that annoyed about your ex showing up?

Was he annoyed with you?

The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t help but spiral, the alcohol of the evening not helping your downward mood despite most of its effect wearing off by the time you reached the hotel. Why wasn’t he talking to you? Why was he so silent?

“This is your room, right?”

Andrei’s low rumbling voice made you flinch, his face immediately forming into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

What’s wrong?

“Are you mad at me?” you asked softly.

As much as you didn’t really want him to confirm it, you needed to know.

“Mad at you? No of course not!” he said, clearly confused, “I’m not…I just…”

Andrei trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, an interesting blush dusting across his cheeks.

“Maybe we can talk in your room? Rather than out in the corridor?” he suggested.

Without hesitating, you unlocked the door to your room, glad more than ever that you’d chosen to have a single room. The last thing you wanted was anyone else overhearing whatever this was. Andrei shut the door behind himself, body language screaming at you that he’d never been more uncomfortable in his life, but his facial expression was determined.

Whatever he was about to say, it was what he’d been thinking about on your walk back from the bar, clearly.

“I’m not sure I know where to start,” Andrei murmured, “But I know that once I start talking, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop, so please just let me get it all out in one go?”

Okay, now he was worrying you.

“Yeah, of course, take all the time you need,” you said softly, smiling as reassuringly as you could.

He took a shaky breath before reaching out for your hand, guiding you over to sit on the sofa next to him before your mind could even process the gentleness of his touch.

“Tonight…everything came together for me. Things have been building for a while, and I’ve been trying to come to terms with a lot of it all by myself, but it’s been hard. It’s new to me, feeling like this, but I have to tell you.”

Andrei’s words were so cryptic, confusing you even more than you already were with his strange behaviour, but as soon as he said ‘feeling like this’ your breath hitched in your throat. Was this going where you thought it was?

“You look so beautiful. You always do, but there’s just something about tonight that took my breath away, and I know I wasn’t the only one in that bar who noticed. Your ex turning up though? It made my blood boil. And when I saw him put his hand on you? I wanted to kill him. I wanted to tear him limb from limb for daring to harm you, and that scared me. No-one has ever made me feel the way you do, everything to the extreme, and tonight just topped the cake. I like you, so much, and it’s driving me crazy trying to figure out whether I could ever have a chance with you.”

“Andrei?” you whispered, mind reeling.

“I just want to see you happy, solnyshko,” he said, smiling sadly, “And if I can’t be the one to make you happy like that, please, you have to let me know so I can start getting over you.”

Solnyshko.

Start getting over you.

Oh fuck.

Your heart both soared and shattered at his closing words, and it was all you could do not to let the tears stinging at your eyes fall. He would let you go, just like that? Despite his feelings?

“I don’t want you to get over me,” you choked out.

“No?”

“No way. You are the sweetest guy I have ever met and I…”

Here goes nothing.

“…I never thought I’d have a chance with you. I never thought you’d be interested in me like that,” you admitted.

It felt silly saying it out loud, after his confession pouring out his feelings, but you couldn’t help it. You truly had thought you’d never have him looking at you like that, as anything more than a friend, so to have that possibility now? It was a little mindblowing.

“Never be…never be interested? You’re the one that always had a gymrat boyfriend!”

“And you always had a dainty little blonde on your arm!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the disgruntled expression on his face, throat still a little choked with emotion, Andrei’s face quickly melting into fondness.

“None of them are you. I want you, in every way,” Andrei murmured.

“In every way?”

You could only hope you understood what he meant.

“Every way. Not just sex. I want to take you on dates, hold your hand, kiss you in public, wake up with you in my arms, dance with you in your kitchen, introduce you to my family…I want everything,” he said softly, and yet firmly enough that you believed every single word.

This felt like a dream. This felt too good to be true. And yet you knew it was real by the earnest emotion on Andrei’s face. He was offering you everything you’d wanted since you’d met him up on a silver platter – how could you not take it with both hands?

“Kiss me,” you said, more than a little breathless.

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Yeah.”

Andrei wasted no time in cupping your face in his hands and kissing you firmly, over and over again. You couldn’t help but whimper against his lips as his embrace consumed you, Andrei just moaning softly at the sound, everything lost in a feedback loop as his tongue stroked against yours. His kisses were passionate, overwhelming, a little rough, and more than you could ever have imagined in your deepest of daydreams.

He broke away with a jolt, breathing heavily, looking at shaken as you were, eyes a little wild for a moment or two until he came back to himself. Andrei rested his forehead against yours for a breath before pressing a kiss to your forehead, dropping his hands from your face to lean back a little, looking at you properly once more.

“We have a lot to catch up on, hm?” Andrei mused.

That was one way to put it. Decisions, decisions, all of them tempting. You knew what you wanted – but what about him?

“Why don’t we talk about it all a bit more in my private plunge pool?” you suggested, tilting your head slightly as you stood up from the sofa.

“I don’t have my swimsuit with me right now,” Andrei said frowning.

“Who said anything about a swimsuit?” you said innocently. Andrei looked stunned for a moment, until you slid the thin straps of your dress over your shoulders. His eyes filled with a fire that you’d only dreamed of seeing directed your way, and it only took you stepping backwards a few steps for him to stand up from the sofa too and walk towards you with determination, your heart racing. Finally.

#my writing #andrei svechnikov fic #birthday festival challenge #birthdayfestivalchallenge #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fanfic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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anonsturniolo · 3 months ago

Text

behind the scenes — matt sturniolo

paring — matt sturniolo x f!reader

genre — smut, coworkers to lovers/enemies to lovers

word count — ???

You let out a slight huff, staring at your reflection intensely. It was opening night for the haunted theme park and your makeup wasn’t turning out exactly how you wanted it. Today you were dressed up as a darker clown, your long hair in high pig tails, messy clown makeup that actually took you hours to do.

And now your extra long eyelashes won’t stay on. You rip them off your eyelids, wincing slightly at the sudden pull. Setting them down on the black vanity in front of you, you’re ready to give up.

“Need some help, baby?” A seductive voice whispers into your ear, making you jump in surprise. Your eyes meet Matt’s smug ones in the mirror, and you spin in your chair to face him.

“Jesus, Matt.” You glare at him, your hand shooting out to slap his arm. He just laughs to himself as he takes a seat in the open chair next to you.

Matt had just started working with you nearly 2 weeks ago, right when the season started. The fair you worked for was typically set up for the whole month of October, giving you a break from your “normal” job.

You on one hand loved it, but anytime Matt came around? You questioned why you even liked it here. There was something about him that just got under your skin, maybe it was his cocky attitude. Or the fact he was so undeniably attractive.

Especially in his joker costume.

His makeup was always perfectly messy, his hair brushed back exposing his forehead and letting his blue eyes shine bright in contrast. He never spray painted his hair green, claiming that would just “ruin his look”, but what it really meant was he wanted to look good for the countless of girls he’d pursue.

“I can help you, forreal.” Matt muttered from beside you, and you glanced down at the eyelashes.

You turn to face him with a cocked brow, “And how do you know how to put them on?” You cryptically asked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’ve seen enough girls put them on, don’t see why I can’t figure it out.” He shrugs, before leaning forward with the eyelash in hand. You finally lower your eyes, giving him better access to apply the band as close to your lash line as he could get.

You sit there awkwardly as he fiddles with the eyelash, and although you hate him; your body flushes with heat as you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. When Matt gently grips your cheeks, turning your head to get a better view, you nearly bite back a moan.

You couldn’t help it, you loved to be manhandled.

“There.” Matt mutters, extending to his full height and admiring his handy work. You turn to face the mirror, surprised when you take a closer look at your eyelashes. They were perfectly applied.

You fight back a frown, refusing to meet Matt’s eyes in the mirror, “Thanks, Matt.” You sigh, shuffling off of your chair now fully ready to venture around the park and get some scares in.

Matt lets out a groan as you pass him, making you turn back to give him a questioning glance, “You look so sexy tonight in that dress, can’t get over it.” He boldly tells you, to which you flip him off and add an extra sway to your hips, knowing he was watching you leave.

“Fucking Christ..”

Confidence surged through you, giggling as you popped out and startled guest after guest. A couple hours had passed, and you were now sat on a bench as you plucked at some cotton candy. You were busy watching a family from a distance as they got scared by someone jumping out of a bush to notice Matt approaching you.

“Hey.” Matt greets you, sitting down beside you and ignoring the glare you sent his way. You nearly forgot about him, and how he was making you feel earlier, but it all came crashing down on you as he placed a warm hand on your upper thigh.

You look from his eyes to his hand a few times, before you turn away from him. You know there’s a cocky smirk on his stupid face, so you know better than to look back to him.

“Just gonna ignore me now?” Matt asks, and you relish in the way he huffs when you don’t give him any attention. Just as you’re about to place another piece of the cotton candy in your mouth, it’s ripped from you grasp completely.

“What the hell!?” You cry out, your eyes finally meeting Matt’s as he throws away the sugary treat in the trash can next to him. “Matt, what the fuck is your issue?”

Matt grabbed your arm firmly, his tight grasp shocking you. He glanced back at you, his eyes flaring with anger. Wordlessly, he dragged you back to the dressing room the two of you were in hours prior.

“What is my issue? What’s your fucking issue?” Matt snarled, his voice deep with anger, “Givin’ me all this sass, ignoring me.” He kissed his teeth briefly, waiting for a response.

You crossed your arms defensively, “I don’t have an issue.” You insist, and you hate the way Matt is staring at you. As if he knew every thought you’ve ever had, like he felt how you were already dripping because of him.

A cocky smirk crosses his lips, he takes a taunting step towards you, “Y’know, I’ve always had a thing for clowns…” he trails off, raising a hand to lightly tug on one of your pigtails. Your breath hitched at his sultry voice, and how his eyes slowly traveled down your body.

“Matt.” You whisper, grabbing the hand that was ghostly tracing your waist, halting his movements, “I don’t wanna be just another girl on your list.” You explain once his eyes meets yours.

“You won’t be,” he insists, twisting his hand in your grasp to hold your hand, “I’ve wanted you for so long…” he trailed off, his eyes zoning in on your lips.

“Those other girls? Never slept with them.” Your surprised eyes meet his, the question on the tip of your tongue, “I only talked to them when you were around, thought I could make you jealous.” Instantly your lips were smashed against his, your hands threaded through his hair and tugging him closer.

Matt let out a soft grunt at the sensation, easily picking you up and placing you on the vanity behind you. The kiss deepened, the two of you hungry for each other. You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, causing you to tug on his shirt.

“Want it off,” you mumbled against his lips, nearly whining at the loss of him as he leaned back and whipped it off. His face paint was smeared with black, due to your makeup.

His lips smashed against yours once again, his hands grabbing at the supple flesh of your thighs. Your hands have a mind of their own, trailing up and down his chest, exploring his exposed skin for the first time.

Matt finally broke the kiss, leaving trails of kisses down your neck as his hands began to bunch up the fabric of your dress. Hastily you shove his hands away, ignoring his confused stare as you slide the garment over your head. You’re left in a black lacy set, and your tights.

“Goddamn..” he muttered, his hands instantly cupping your breasts as he kisses you again. The lust between the two of you poured into the kiss, seemingly to not get enough. Matt’s skillful hands snuck around and up your back, unhooking your bra, and gently taking the straps off your shoulders.

A soft gasp left you once your nipples were exposed to the cold air, your hips slightly bucking in search of relief. You begin to fumble with Matt’s belt to speed things along, and he’s quick to undo his pants and shove them down without breaking away from your lips.

Now left in his boxers, his hands find their way to your chest, tweaking and pulling at your nipples. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure begins to wash over you, your core clenching around nothing.

“Wanna taste you,” Matt mumbles against your lips, making you pull back.

You start to pull down his boxers, “Next time, please, I need you.” You seductively whine, and Matt nearly cums at your tone and pleading expression.

He smirks down at you, his fingers finally making their way to where you need him the most, ghosting over your clit above your panties.

“Y’need me, huh?” He taunts, and you nod your head rapidly in response. With his rock hard cock exposed, you take great pleasure in wrapping your hand around his base, slowly stroking it. When your fingers make contact with his slit, his hips jerk and a moan flies past his lips.

You lean in close to him, “Sounds like you need me too.” Matt doesn’t reply, just threads his hand under the hem of your underwear and pulls, breaking the thin fabric. You were too turned on to care, and you watch as he pulls you forward slightly so he’d have better access.

He removes your hand from his cock, his eyes falling down to your wet cunt, and he begins to slowly rock his hips letting his head bump into your clit. Your head falls back against the mirror, whimpers leaving your lips.

“Please, Matt.” You pathetically whine, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He slowly begins to push inside of you both of your jaws dropping as he bottoms out. The look he gives you is possessive, and his hips start snapping into yours at an animalistic pace.

“Matt!” You cry out once he hits that special spot, so deep inside of you. Your hands dig into his shoulders, causing him to let out deep grunts when he feels your nails pierce his skin.

“Mhm, that’s right baby,” he groans, removing one hand from your hips to rub harsh circles on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The band deep within you was forming, begging to snap.

“Feels s’good…” Matt trailed off, making you look up at him through watery eyes. His eyes were focused on where your bodies connected, relishing in the way your cunt greedily swallowed his cock.

“G-Gonna cum.” You warned, making Matt look up at you. His eyes searched yours as the end neared, his lips smashing down onto yours in a feverish manner. He wasn’t ready for this to end, but he also knew this wouldn’t be the only time it happened.

“Be a good girl and cum f’me,” he grunted softly, feeling the way your gummy walls clenched onto him, “Cum on my cock baby.” He urged, feeling his impending orgasm near the edge.

“Matt!” You pathetically cry, the band within you finally snapping once Matt placed a firm hand on your lower stomach. Pure bliss washed over you as Matt fucked you through your orgasm, sending shocks of hot pleasure through your shaking body.

“Where do you want it?” Matt groaned, his grip on your hips tightened.

“Inside.” You said whine out, your hands pawing at his shoulders as the pleasure coursed over your body for the last time.

Matt’s thrusts grew erratic and sloppy, a telltale sign he was close. You clenched down rather hard onto him as your orgasm faded, immediately you could feel his release painting your walls white as he continued to fuck into you to ride out his orgasm.

You look up to his face, finally coming back to earth, to see his eyes clenched shut and his jaw slacked as the pleasure consumed him. His hips slowed to a stop, all that could be heard was heavy breathing as you both caught your breath.

“That was…” You trailed off, wincing as Matt slowly pulled out of you. He was quick to grab a towel, gently cleaning you off.

“I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow night.” He spoke without looking up at you, sliding your underwear back on.

You cocked a brow at him, “Are you now?”

Matt stares at you blankly, “Did I not just fuck the attitude outta you? Need more?”

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #kinktober

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to-the-stars8 · 4 months ago

Text

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Lonely Hearts Club

Mr. Wayne never brought his partner home. You saw no swingers' parties, orgies, or even a single panty on the floor to hint at the wealth of lovers he supposedly had. In a way, you were disappointed, because you found nothing more entertaining than soaking up the drama that billionaire playboys could offer.

Alas, Mr. Wayne was boring.

He went to work, played with his kids, attended charity balls and galas, and was a good, boring single father and philanthropist. The only interesting part about him was his troubled relationship with Selina Kyle (and some messy drama with Damian’s mother that Alfred refused to delve deeper into), who had been slowly creeping back into Bruce’s arms. When Alfred told you, you were a little surprised since it seemed he, and the children, were affected by the breakup.

It was a little past two in the morning when you ventured to the kitchen for a glass of water, and the entire house was relatively quiet. There was the pitter-patter of rain against the windows and the shuffling on your feet, but, distantly, you could hear a conversation between Mr. Wayne and a woman.

You tried to mind your own business, but, as you poured ice into your glass, you heard Mr. Wayne say, “Selina, please.”

“No, Bruce, we can’t keep doing this,” Selina’s voice was clear, almost stern.

With how loud their voices were, you assumed that they were in the side hall. You paused, partially due to fear of being caught in an awkward position but mainly because of your curiosity. There was a witty back and forth before Bruce loudly demanded for her to go. It went silent after the door slammed shut, and then you heard Mr. Wayne make his way toward the kitchen.

Panicking, you hurried to fill your glass with water so you could get out of there lest he think you were listening in. Just as it was filled and you started to leave, Mr. Wayne entered the kitchen. He seemed surprised to see you, and you were so scared by the sight of him that you dropped the glass—sending it to shattered pieces.

“Mr. Wayne,” You gasped, kneeling to clean up the mess. “Sorry, about the cup.”

He shook his head, rushing over to urge you to stand up. “No, don’t use your hands. You’ll cut yourself. Give me a moment, I’ll find the broom.”

Now that you were looking at him, there was a flush on his cheeks—Wait, you thought, could he have been embarrassed? You never knew he could have such a feeling. He also seemed disheveled and smelled a bit like perfume mixed with cigarette smoke.

“Here it is,” Mr. Wayne said after opening nearly every closet and cupboard in the kitchen. “Move, I’ll do it.”

You sidestepped, eyes flickering between Mr. Wayne and the broken glass on the floor. By the way, he swept, it was clear he was rich. That man looked like he had never held a broom in his life, and, with how much Alfred did for him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t.

“No,” You said, hand going to the broom handle. “Let me do it. It’ll be quicker.”

“Are you saying I can’t sweep,” Bruce spat.

You looked up at him, tired and agitated all of a sudden. “Yes!”

Bruce let go of the handle and huffed, moving across the kitchen to find a glass. He then turned to the cabinet under the island to pluck out a bottle of scotch. He watched you momentarily before rounding the island while holding his hand out expectantly.

“I’ll do it,” He said plainly.

You laughed. “Mr. Wayne, I’m nearly done. Plus, we already established that you can’t sweep.”

“Can’t sweep,” Bruce mumbled under his breath. “Ridiculous.”

“Don’t be so upset,” You remarked. “It’s hardly your fault for being born with a silver spoon.”

“I’m not upset!” He said, raising his voice enough to scare you a little. There was a little silence before he sheepishly apologized. “It’s been a stressful night,” was the excuse he gave you. You wanted to be angry at him for raising his voice, but you quickly got over it.

After throwing away the glass, you looked at him before moving to sleep. You stopped halfway to return to the island where Mr. Wayne stood.

“Get me a cup?” You asked.

Bruce stared at you before doing as you asked. When the glass hit the table, he quickly grabbed the bottle to fill it. You were never one for alcohol, but you were always one to rise to the occasion.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Relationship troubles,” He said plainly.

“I used to say the same thing,” You said. “It’s never just relationship troubles, Bruce.”

The two of you stared at one another for what felt like forever until he let out a long, tired sigh and said, “I don’t know. I thought I loved her, and I thought she loved me—but…I think we want different things. I want her to be a part of my family, but she’s afraid of risking her independence.”

“You can’t fault her for that,” You said, not sure of what else you could say.

“No, I can’t. No matter how much I want to hate her for it to make myself feel better, I know it’s still her choice.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he threw back the entire glass before reaching for the bottle to pour another. He cleared his throat, before asking, “What happened with you and, uh, whatever his name was?”

“Ah, yes, him,” You said, looking down at the glass and swirling the scotch around inside it. “I thought he was great. He was kind, loving—”

“He was a man,” Bruce said, cocking an eyebrow.

You chuckled. “Believe me, I know, but I was in love with him, Bruce. I wanted to marry him, ya know?”

“Too bad he fired you,” He said.

That stung a bit, and Bruce must have seen it on your face because all of a sudden was mumbling an apology. Sucking in a breath, you pulled the bottle toward you to pour yourself more scotch.

“How’d you know that,” You asked, trying to hold back tears and act like your usual humorous self. “I don’t remember mentioning I was fired in my interview.”

“You didn’t mention much in your interview at all, but you honestly didn’t expect me to look?” He scoffed. Yeah, you should have guessed that he would do some sort of background check since he was a crazed control freak. Sniffling, you tried to keep your gaze on the bottle to keep from crying as you thought about your ex. You hated the man, but part of you missed loving him and, in turn, being loved. “I’m sorry to have upset you,” Bruce said, reaching out to awkwardly rub circles on your back.

“No, no. I don’t mean to cry,” You said, laughing lightly at yourself. “I shouldn’t be crying in front of my boss, anyway.”

“I don’t mind,” Bruce mumbled.

“I found out the other day that he’s getting married, too,” You mumbled, voice cracking. “Kind of makes me wonder why not me?”

Bruce was quiet, and you took that all the emotion made him uncomfortable. Quickly, you began to suck your feelings back in. You already felt foolish enough, especially when you felt your nose start running. When you began to excuse what you had said, Bruce quickly stopped you from doing such a thing.

“Every time Selina and I would break up,” He started, “I used to wonder what I had done wrong, and I don’t think I ever realized that it wasn’t just me until tonight. It was just us.”

“Maybe,” You said quietly. “I hope you find your person one day, Mr. Wayne. You’re a good man.”

He looked down at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “Thank you…and I hope you find your person, too.”

Silently, you agreed with the sentiment. You hoped to one day find that person and prayed that he wouldn’t be your employer this time.

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narxcisse · 1 month ago

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★ — Strings of Comfort

Child!Viktor x Older Sibling!Reader

CW: comfort, Viktor's parents are alive (like in LoL), mention of Rio's death, I know it wasn't an axolotl but you can't deny that it does look like one. 🤺

English isn't my native language

It was a damp and quiet evening in Zaun, the dim light of an old lamp casting faint glows along the walls of the small room you shared with Viktor. You'd been keeping your hands busy for hours, fingers nimbly working into something special for your little brother.

Viktor’s hunched figure sat in the corner, shoulders shaking slightly as he tinkered with a broken gadget. His grief over Rio’s loss was palpable, filling the air with a heaviness that hurt to see.

He didn’t talk much about it, but you’d caught the way his hands trembled when he said it name and how he stared into the middle distance, his mind elsewhere. Rio had been his closest friend, his comfort, and now… It was gone.

You had to do something.

So, you did what any older sibling would do.

You stole some yarn from Piltover.

It wasn’t exactly a noble endeavor, but you weren’t about to let Viktor wallow in despair. You hadn’t knitted since a long time, not when you have to take care of him while your parents work, but you remembered enough to make something small and meaningful. Something that might bring a spark back into his eyes.

"Vik, can you grab me some of those scissors?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He looked up, startled out of his thoughts. His eyes, red-rimmed from crying earlier, flicked to the scissors on the cluttered workbench. Wordlessly, he passed them to you before retreating into himself again.

"Thanks," you said casually, returning to your project. You kept the tone light, hoping to avoid any more of the melancholy that had been hanging over the both of you.

The hours passed, and Viktor eventually curled up on the makeshift mattress you called a bed. He didn’t even notice you draping a threadbare blanket over him.

By the time dawn broke, your creation was complete. A small, slightly uneven but undeniably charming axolotl plushie sat in your lap, its pink yarn limbs floppy but endearing. You even managed to use black buttons for its tiny, lopsided eyes.

When Viktor woke, groggy and bleary-eyed, you sat beside him, holding the plushie behind your back. "Morning, sleepyhead," you teased.

He grumbled something unintelligible, rubbing his eyes.

"I, uh… I made something for you." You brought the plushie out, holding it toward him awkwardly. "I know it’s not the same as Rio, but… I thought maybe it’d help. You can keep it close when you miss it."

Viktor blinked, his thin hands reaching out to take the plushie with the utmost care, as though it were fragile. His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment.

"You…made this?" he finally whispered, staring at the uneven stitches and mismatched colors.

"Yeah. With some yarn I 'found'. It’s an axolotl, not exactly what Rio was but pretty similar, right...? I know it’s not perfect, but—"

"It’s perfect," he interrupted, clutching it tightly to his chest. His voice cracked as he added, "Thank you."

You reached out to ruffle his messy hair, relieved to see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

From that day forward, the little axolotl plushie rarely left Viktor’s side. It sat with him as he worked, tucked into his pocket when he ventured out, and cradled close whenever the shadows of loss threatened to overwhelm him.

And for once, you felt like you’d done something right in this unfair, broken world.

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toytulini · 3 months ago

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"why are people mad about AI being pushed on them when they SHOULD be mad about all the privacy erosion??"

1) plenty of us bitches are mad and annoyed about both, actually.

2) the privacy erosion has become the normalized state of existence for the average person for the last 10 fucking years at least, its snuck in, they disguise it as Convenient Features to Help You Shop Better, and thats IF they bother telling you theyre doing it, instead of just opting all your shit in without asking, its so fucking normalized that yeah, a lot of people do not bother to question it, they just sigh in resignation and go, yeah, i guess, do i even have other options? and they do, but theyre an investment of learning and time you dont have capacity for at the moment, or maybe you do but you feel like you dont bc it feels like a bigger hurdle than it is, and computer stuff is already kind of intimidating, cos man, what if you hit the wrong thing and brick your expensive ass machine? easier to just let it data harvest, you guess, it cant be THAT bad, can it? plenty of people live like this, put up with this, seek this out, its easier not to resist the privacy erosion. fucking whatever, i guess. yeah, i guess twitter i mean X, or walmart, or facebook, can just have all of my contact info and my phone number and my birthday and phone contacts and bank information and fuck it, give them my ssn while im at it. less effort later. this is just how tech has been for the last 10 yrs. no one can effectively get rage clicks on this topic anymore bc we all fucking know. it sucks and we know. what do you want me to fucking do about it? i have other shit to deal with more urgently. etc

you cant turn anything on or log onto anything or go anywhere without hearing about whatever new shit theyre throwing AI at for no real reason, no one will fucking Shut Up about AI, and its Annoying, man

#toy txt post #toy pic post #image id in alt text #im so fucking Tired of hearing about it and in applications that make no sense cos they made the thing and are now trying to justify its #existence and cost instead of like. creating it to actually meet a need.#im annoyed at both of these things everytime i turn on the god damn computer #i keep getting texts about upgrading my phone to get one of the new AI models. man. i dont want that #i dont want it bc theyre as invasive as ever and the ai shit is stupid and i dont want it #AND YES. THERE ARE GOOD AND USEFUL AND DECENT APPLICATIONS AND USES FOR AI. I KNOW. ITS NOT ALL BAD #BUT MOST OF THE FUCKING CHATTER ABOUT IT IS ANNOYING AND THE INTERNET IS AS FILLED AS EVER WITH MEANINGLESS BULLSHIT #WHETHER IT BE AI GENERATED OR JUST TALKING ABOUT THEIR NEW BULLSHIT GENERATOR 3000. PLEASE DOWNLOAD #TO JUSTIFY THE VENTURE CAPITAL #man ppl are tired of it all. we want to opt out of it all #and some dont even want to bother.#and then theres ppl like my mom who no. i cant convince her the privacy erosion is a problem bc on an individual level she doesnt care #but i could convince her hopefully to be wary of 'answers' from ai and that they generate slop and if anyone asks you for money for ai shit #lmao Dont. okay #and at this point ill take that as a wij #win #and honestly the privacy erosion at this point. needs. legislative shit. legislative shit that isnt just 'oh the companies were data #harvesting teens? well if the companies stop giving that info to advertisers and instead give it to Their Parents. and also give them full #control of their accounts and everything the kids see. well that fixes it. no. god #its a big stupid messy problem that is gonna suck to fix and so far anyone who talks about fixing it on a mass scale is a fucking hack #who is fear mongering to exert more control over kids man it all sucks so bad. and it sucks more cos it doesnt Have To #it Could be good! computers could be good again. the answer is not necessarily everyone download linux bc thats not going to happen #maybe more ppl should and that would be good for us. yes. like idk teach it in school or some shit. but that cant be the only thing you do #windows and Microsoft and apple should not be retroactively fucking up the products they have monopolized into everyones homes & businesses #they should not be ABLE to do this. idkeverything sucks and is stupid and that sucks and is stupid and you all are complaining about dumb #rubes getting mad at the wrong thing and falling for ai fear mongering instead of being like. why are the bitches who are turning every god #damn computer into inherent spyware also shotgunning money into ai amd articles hyping up about ai

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badomensgoodomens · 5 months ago

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Sleepy noah adventures!!!!!

noah looks high in this photo HAHA

anyways enjoy ur food children x

Most evenings, noah would be cooped up in his studio working on projects, which you usually found entertainment elsewhere. on this specific night, you were sitting in your shared bed, clutching the nintendo. youd spent the past 3 evenings trying to beat skull cavern, absolutely outraged, you turn the nintendo off, chucking it to the side. you slide out of the bed, getting whiplash from the cold. grumbles leave your mouth as you put your slippers on.

you trudge downstairs, making a beeline for the home studio. not surprisingly, noah was still engrossed in whatever he was doing. you stand there, unimpressed.

he doesn't notice you.

hes too busy sitting at his desk with his headphones and cute glasses to notice you. you approach carefully, wrapping your arms around his neck. he jolts slightly, before realizing it was you. He slips his headphones off, gently rubbing your arm.

"whats up, dude?"

you scoff,

"noah, its 2am."

"fuck, really?"

he tucks the loose strands back into his messy bun. (long hair era)

"mhm, you need to shower."

he hums, saving whatever he was working on. you take his hand, leading him upstairs. your townhouse is quiet, other than the occasional cough or murmur from one of the boys rooms. tonights takeaway lay strewn across the island.

he follows close behind, trying not to stumble in the dark. as he ventures into the masterbedroom the band had so kindly graced you two with, he slips off his shirt. you sit up on your elbows, watching him walk into the bathroom. you giggle to yourself before starting your night routine.

you had showered earlier, so you put on your expensive (much to noahs distaste) skincare, and slip on your cute pajamas. This puts you in a good mood, so you do some light reading before bed, the bedside lamp illuminating the fulfilling romance book in your hand.

the bathroom door opens;

out steps the sexiest man youve ever seen, im talking white towel around the waist, jaw dropping v line with water droplets falling down, greek god type shit, you could eat that man for dinner and more.

he flashes you a grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

"eyes up here."

despite his cheeky attitude, he slips on some pajamas and slides into bed next to you.

"hi sweetie, you smell really good."

you hum in response, atleast your scented moisturizers actually had a purpose.

"what flavour lip balm?"

"strawberry. as it is every night."

you respond, unimpressed. this was his daily ritual of asking for a goodnight kiss. he grins, you can't help but smile back. he pulls you in, pressing a gentle yet firm kiss to your lips.

he pulls away, smacking his lips together like the smug little bitch he is.

"mmm yum."

"you're not meant to eat it-"

you groan as he licks his lips.

"i needa brush my teeth." you say, sitting up. he groans, tugging your tshirt. you tut, climbing out of bed. he grumbles as you disappear into the ensuite. he watches you from afar for 5 minutes as you brush your teeth and hair. after some more grumbles, he gets up, dragging you back to bed.

"noah-"

"shut up, i don't wanna hear it."

he pulls you close, his breath trickling down your neck. he holds your waist tightly.

"goodnight sweetheart."

you hum, running your fingers through his hair.

"say it back." he says, sternly.

you ignore him, lingering between consciousness and dreamland. his hand snakes up to your chin. "say it back, brat."

you grumble, wriggling away from him.

he digs his fingers in your sides, you shriek, giggling.

nick bangs on the wall, signaling to shut the fuck up.

you collapse onto the bed, soft giggles echoing through the room.

"goodnight baby."

he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, a satisfied hum leaves his lips.

its radio silence for 5 minutes, nothing but eachothers breathing and synced heartbeats.

"babe..? would you still love me if i was a worm?'

"oh my god noah if you don't shut the fuck u-"

------------------------------------------

teehee this is my first little scenario (??)

i have a very informal writing style and could not give a fuck about correct grammer.

anyways.

hope ur just as in love with noah as me

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian davis #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian headcanons #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x reader #noahsebastiancult #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens cult #bad omens imagine #bad omens band #FERAL FOR THIS MAN.

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viceroywrites · 3 months ago

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liquor on your lips (1/2)

you met stan pines on your first day working at the dead end motel.

in just a week, you were addicted to him.

mullet stan x gn!reader

part two here

inspired by you can be the boss by lana del rey - contributing to the mullet stan obsession - second part will include smut 👀

It was your first day on the job when you met Stan Pines.

The owner of the motel, Tony, walked you through your daily duties at the Dead End Motel.

Checking guests in and out, answering the phones, collecting money from anyone staying for more than one night at the motel.

It was a fairly simple job it seemed like.

“If anyone gives you a hard time when I’m not here, call me - I live just a block away and can swing by to straighten them out. There’s also a bat underneath the counter - I’m giving you full permission to slug anyone. We’ll just erase it from the camera footage if we need to.” Tony explains, pulling the bat out.

Well, maybe not.

You blink, digesting the thought that you might actually have to use it but nod in understanding.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in the back doing some paperwork, holler if you need me.” Tony disappears into his back office, leaving you at the front desk.

The next few hours are pretty uneventful. You check-out some people and have one check-in. Right at 5, Tony dips out for the day, reminding you to give him a call if anything happens and to clock-out before you head out when the night shift person takes your place.

You spend the next few hours leaning back in the office chair and doodling, hoping to past the time and reminding yourself to bring a book or crosswords to work on during these slower hours.

The jingle of the bell signaled the arrival of someone as the front door swung open. You quickly put the piece of paper down, straightening your posture as you had your feet propped up on the counter.

In walked a man in his 30s, the messy mop of brown atop his head grown out into a mullet, the stubble across his square jawline apparent. He wore a white t-shirt, a pair of pants that had a few stains littered across the material and a red hoodie that looked like it had seen better days.

The scent of tobacco and a woodsy, cheap cologne hit you immediately as he approached the desk, his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.. uh.. I need a room for the night.” His deep, gruff voice echoed through the small, empty lobby. Your feet push against the tile floor, wheeling over to the opposite end of the counter and glancing over at the list of the available rooms.

“Room for one or two?” You ask, eyebrow raised as you look back over to him.

Stan looks around the empty lobby before replying in response, “Well, there’s no one else here but me, toots.”

Your cheeks can’t help but flush in embarrassment. You get up from your seat before muttering out an explanation, “Figured I’d just ask. This place is a hot spot for late night hook-ups so I didn’t know if you had a date waiting for you in the car.”

Stan lets out a husky chuckle, leaning against the counter, “Not sure if I should be offended or flattered that you think I would be coming here for a hook-up.” His eyes follow your figure as you face away from him, searching for a particular room key.

He had to admit after all the seedy motels he’s stayed at, he wasn’t expecting to see someone as stunning as you. You stood out in the tiny motel lobby, a fresh face in a dreary environment, somehow looking radiant underneath the yellow, fluorescent lights that hang above.

You grab a key off the hooks on the wall, the keychain with the number 12 dangling from it. “The rate for one night will be $20.” You slide the key onto the counter.

Stan fishes into his deep hoodie pocket, pulling out a beat-up leather wallet. Rifling through the crumpled up business cards of all his short-lived business ventures and his numerous fake IDs, he finally fishes out a few dollar bills. Thumbing through them, he curses underneath his breath.

He’s short by only 3 bucks.

His brown eyes glance up at you with a sense of unease, clearing his throat, “Mind if I go back to my car and scrounge up some change?”

It slowly dawns on you the predicament that he’s in, nodding in understanding. You watch as he disappears back outside and you can’t help but follow behind him. Through the glass door, you watch as he unlocks his car, tossing miscellaneous objects aside while he digs in the back seat for spare change he might have dropped.

Sympathy washes over you as you see his crest-fallen expression when he comes out from the car with only a dollar and a few cents of change in the palm of his hand. You scurry back behind the desk before he makes his way back, ready to tell you that he’ll have to find another place to stay for the night.

“Hey, toots, turns out I don’t have enough. Sorry to waste your time.” Stan says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares at the ground in shame. He’s about to reach for the bills that he threw on the counter, ready to take his leave.

“It’s on me.” You quickly say, fishing out the remaining three dollars needed and grabbing the stack of bills on the counter to put in the cash box underneath the desk.

As you come back up, you see Stan staring back at you in astonishment.

In all the years that Stan had been running from state to state, no one had shown him the kindness that you showed him today. No one had extended out a hand, offering support… at least not without a price.

“Why are you helping me?” Stan asks in his state of shock.

You pause at his question. You’re not sure what compelled you to help this total stranger out but you knew if you were struggling, you would want someone to lend you a helping hand.

“Why not?” You answer back simply, “It doesn’t cost me anything to be kind.”

“Well, it did cost you a couple bucks.” Stan can’t help but point out.

“Eh, I’ll make those couple bucks back in no time at my first job.” You shrug with a smile, “I work as a bartender at the bar across town, this is just my second job to make a couple extra bucks.”

“So you’re a bit of a workhorse, huh? I can respect that, sweetheart.” Stan says with a grin, finally taking the keys off the counter.

“Toots, sweetheart? You sure are laying it on thick, you don’t have to flatter me just because I helped you out.” You can’t help but chuckle, trying to downplay how those pet names were starting to cause butterflies in your stomach and a flush to spread across your cheeks.

Stan stammers, flustered by you calling him out on his playboy schtick and you giggle, “Hey, I didn’t say that I didn’t like it.” You admit with a playful grin.

It’s his turn for his cheeks to glow and Stan can’t help the huge smile that spreads across his features, “Well, just so you know, I’m not just calling you those because you helped me out. I mean look at ya, you’re like a painting in a museum, begging to be admired.”

He can’t remember the last time he cracked a genuine smile.

“Well, I would like to at least know the name of the person showering me with all these compliments.” You chuckle, introducing yourself.

Stan hesitates as he is used to utilizing one of his many aliases, but somehow his real name rolls off his tongue for the first time in decades, “Stanley Pines.”

Just after his introduction, your co-worker comes to take over for the night shift.

“Well, Stanley, my shift is almost over. Smoking is allowed but please use the ashtray in the room. The ice machine is near the staircase to the second floor.” You say, slipping on your own jacket before making your way around the counter with your bag over your shoulder.

Stan had to admit it felt nice to finally be called by his actual name in years, a warm sensation filling his chest.

Comfort.

He follows you out the door, room key in his hand, “Mind if I walk you to your car? It’s the least I could do for you helping me out.”

You smile and nod, “I would like that a lot.”

Bad to the bone, sick as a dog.

You know that I like, like you a lot.

Don’t let it stop.

Stan and you fell into a routine after your first meeting.

Like clockwork, Stan would visit you, keeping you company at the end of your shift after Tony had left for the day.

Sometimes he would run a new sales pitch by you, workshopping it with you as you gave him honest but supportive feedback.

Sometimes he would just listen, leaning against the counter as you vent about a customer that was giving you a hard time at your other job.

Belly aching laughter would echo through the motel lobby, Stan’s quick wit matching yours.

A dangerous dance of banter and flirtation grew bolder and bolder with each evening.

Somehow, the chemistry you had with this man that you still knew little about was more electric than anything you had ever experienced.

At the end of each night, Stan would walk out with you, opening your car door as you slid into the driver’s seat, leaving you with a good night and a wish for you to get home safely.

Tonight was the first time you fell out of the carefree routine.

Your fingers drummed against the counter, your palm cradling your chin as you stared at the clock with a pit in your stomach. An hour had rolled by since Tony had left for the day and yet there was no sign of Stan.

What if he had checked out last night after you had left your shift?

What if he was onto the next town without even saying goodbye?

What if something happened to him?

Your leg bounced up and down, trying to distract yourself with the book you had brought but to no avail.

One hour turned to two.

Two turned to three.

Losing hope at hour four, your eyes begin to flutter, resting your arms on the counter and deciding it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap. The bell up front would wake you up anyways.

Instead, you were woken to a warm hand shaking your shoulder. Your eyes shoot open and are greeted to the sight of a pair of battered, bloody knuckles on your shoulder.

Instinct kicks in, your hands grabbing the bat that rested against your left leg underneath the desk and standing up with it raised over your shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, toots! Put the bat down, it’s just me!” Stan explained, putting his hands up as he took a cautious step back.

You blink, seeing Stanley standing in front of you, his knuckles looking roughed up and a pretty gnarly cut near his eyebrow. He looks disheveled, wearing just a thin white t-shirt that has splotches of dried blood dotted across it and a pair of dark jeans.

You put the bat down immediately, your worst fears confirmed as you quickly step around the counter, “Stanley, what the hell happened to you?” You say, voice full of concern. Your hand reaches out to cup his jaw to assess the damage, and he almost melts against your warm touch.

God, is this what an angel looks like? He wonders, admiring your features up close despite the furrow in your eyebrow.

“Got in a bit of trouble but I got myself out of it. I’m okay, sweetheart.” Stan attempts to reassure you, trying to play it cool though he had to admit this last run-in with Rico and his goons was a bit too close for comfort.

“Stanley, you’re hurt… take a seat, I’m gonna go grab a first aid kit.” You sigh, your lips in a tight line. Stan doesn’t argue, taking a seat in the leather chair. His thumbs twidle together, feeling like he was a kid again, waiting in the principal’s office to get lectured.

You come back with a tiny first aid kid and take a seat on the table in front of him, cracking it open. You start first on the swollen cut near Stan’s eyebrow, tearing the packaging off the alcohol wipe and leaning forward. “It’s gonna sting…” You warn him.

“Oh please, I just took a beating, I’m sure a little wipe isn’t gonna - Ow! Motherfucker!” Stan curses loudly, wincing as the pad hits his fresh wound. You pull back, your eyebrow raised in amusement, “You were saying?”

“Alright, fine… just be quick with it.” Stan mutters, his arms crossed over his chest in defeat. He winces as you carefully dab across the wound, making sure to clean up the dried blood on the edges that had clung to his eyebrow. While you were cleaning up his wound, your eyes couldn’t help but drift down to his toned forearms that were littered with hair up to his biceps that were accentuated by the tight fabric of his tee.

Your eyes meet Stan’s, an amused grin across his face despite the pain. “Enjoying the view, toots?” You huff in annoyance, trying to ignore how your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you press the alcohol wipe more firmly against his wound as payback.

“Ow!”

The harsh lecture he was anticipating never comes.

Instead, as you finish bandaging up his knuckles, you gaze up at him with a sad look in your eyes, “I’m just glad you’re okay… please be more careful.”

Stan nods, “Sorry to worry you, toots.”

He had a cigarette with his number on it,

He gave it over to me, “Do you want it?”

I knew it was wrong but I palmed it.

After your shift is over, you step outside, wishing your co-worker a good night and rolling your eyes in good-nature as they give you a knowing grin when commenting that Stan was outside waiting for you.

The cool evening air hits your face the moment you step out the door and the scent of cigarettes catches your attention. You turn to see Stan leaning against the wall, a freshly lit cigarette between his fingers as he takes a drag from it.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you should be resting.” You say, approaching him.

Stan turns his head in the other direction, blowing a plume of smoke out from his chapped lips before turning back to face you, “I can rest all day tomorrow. Gotta walk you to your car, don’t know what kinda sleazebags are lurking around at this time.”

“Aren’t you cold?” You pointed out, noting that Stan was still wearing his white t-shirt despite you sending him out to get a hoodie or sweater from his hotel room.

Not that you were complaining about the eye-candy.

Stan gives a casual shrug, “Not really, the cold out here is nothing compared to winters in Jersey.”

“New Jersey, huh? Didn’t realize you came all the way from the other coast.” You chuckle, leaning against the wall yourself as you watch Stan take another drag.

He almost chokes on the smoke as he inhales, realizing he shared another piece of himself that he had never shared with anyone in his years on the run.

Living life as a drifter, he tried to keep his interactions surface-level, knowing that he may have to pick up and run the next morning.

Yet somehow, you were breaking the walls he had crafted for years down.

Stan exhales the smoke before glancing over at you, “You know I still owe you for covering my room this past week? Is there any way I can make it up to you, sweetheart? Heck, I’ll even do chores around your apartment while you’re at work.”

You pause, mulling over the offer. You had never expected Stan to pay you back, wanting to help him while he was still trying to get back on his feet.

“Honestly, Stan, you don’t have to pay me back. It’s fine.” You insisted but Stan’s stubbornness began to show through.

“At least let me take you out to dinner or buy you a drink. I’ll give you tonight to mull it over and l expect an answer tomorrow.” Stan says with a sense of finality.

You can’t help but chuckle at his stubbornness, “Alright, alright… but you know I won’t be here tomorrow. I’m covering a day shift for one of the other bartenders.”

Stan pauses before reaching into his pocket to fish out his pack of cigarettes. Your eyebrow raises in confusion and he looks up at you, “You got a pen?”

You open your bag, digging through its contents before retrieving a pen and handing it over to him. He messily scrawls something on the tiny stick before passing it and the pen back to you, his fingertips lingering as they brush against yours.

You look down at the cigarette, seeing a clumsy string of numbers written on it.

“That’s the direct dial to my room.” Stan explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Give it a call when you get off tomorrow and let me know.”

You slip the cigarette into your purse, “I will.”

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fic #gravity falls #stan pines x you #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #mullet stan #gravity falls stanley

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