#and the tiniest pinch of exhibitionism...

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘 ♡︎

characters: sub!gallagher x nb!dom!reader

warnings: usage of aphrodisiacs, exhibitionism, slight dumbification, thigh riding, dry humping, begging, cumming untouched, gallagher being an old man loser, just a mini drabble guys. nothing big (i say as i write down 1,7K words)

notes: @lufenianwol you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me gallagher’s leaked idle animation didn’t you, you gayyyy🫵🏳️‍🌈 (im gay too😔)

sigh…

another day, another long work of hunting down criminals or outlaws who came to penacony uninvited and detaining them. the most time gallagher could ever get to de-stress were behind the bars, mixing up a drink his customers asked for or when with you. you were a fellow bloodhound, a high ranking one too, so never had enough time to spend some quality time with your tired lover.

but today, you wanted to be a little mischievous. and what was that on your mind? you slipped just a teeny weeny bit of aphrodisiacs into his usual alcohol in his personal flask of course! just a little. maybe a pinch or two. a bit of a sprinkle of magic as a gift.

or maybe even a whole mini bottle. but you won’t say it until your tired lover comes crawling over to you, huffing and puffing, whining whimpering as he begs for your help at “restocking” some of the alcohol at the backrooms.

at the other end of the bar, you watch with a barely hidden smirk whenever your lover takes a sip from his personal flask during his break times. each time he does, getting more and more intoxicated in the taste. you purposely chose one that tasted delicious and soft on the tongue, a way to reward him for his hard work of running after criminals and preparing him for what was about to happen.

he started out strong, as expected of a bloodhound officer. barely felt it, focusing on work, wiping a glass or two, mixing up a drink. but the more he drank from his flask, the more you noticed it. the little stuttering over his words, the slight flush in his cheeks, the jumpy way he reacted whenever you passed by him with a hand on his waist or lower back. that bulge in his pants. that damn delicious bulge that you love to bully.

shaking your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you focus back on work to wipe the bar clean and serve the customers drinks and desserts of their liking. you and gallaher were a good pair to serve amazing cocktails after all.

finally, the rush hour had ended, meaning fewer customers. the fewer there are, the more noticeable gallagher’s show of being affected by the little sprinkle of magic became. at first, he tried to play things off as signs of cold, or just the warm and low lighting of the bar being the reason his cheeks are pink. hell, he even coughed a few times to make his act believable. believable to the nosy customers but never to you.

“[n-name]…” the man barely manages to muffle his whimper when calling out your name, low lidded eyes, hazy vision and slightly shaky hand tugging on your necktie. you hum, turning to him with a raised brow as if you weren’t the reason behind this panting mess in front of you.

“yeah? what’s up?” you ask, putting down the bottle on where it’s supposed to be as your hands come to rest on his waist. the rush hour just ended, the bar still had a few customers but they were either too drunk to care nor engrossed in their own sob life stories to share you two a glance. and gallagher was damn glad for it too.

“w-we, ahem, need to head to the backrooms. we’re running out of some beers and fizzy drinks in the fridge” he quickly clears his throat, hoping that no one had caught onto his little stuttering. you did, of course. you would catch onto anything your lover says or does. even the tiniest things. such as how he was trying to make it seem like an innocent half-hug when you could feel his cock twitch in his pants as he pushes his crotch against yours, hoping to conceal it while also giving you a little heads-up.

as if you needed the heads-up.

“alright. you can go first, i’ll come after you once i wipe my hands” you nod your head, watching as your lover disappears behind the door with a sign that read “staff only”. it was cute how gallagher was so trusting of you, never even thought for a moment how you could have been the one to drug his flask of alcohol. though, judging from his cloudy eyes and stuttering, you could guess that he could barely even think to begin with. how adorable of him.

soon enough, you follow after the steps of your lover, walking into the “staff only” part of the bar and later onto the door with the sign “backrooms”. the pretty decent sized dark room where the bar keeps their ingredients and drinks. the same exact room where your lover pushes you against the wall the moment you entered, shaky hands fumbling with the buttons of your button down shirt as he humps his hardened cock against your crotch.

“woah woah, puppy. easy now. what’s going on? i thought we needed to restock on our drinks?” you ask, feigning innocence as your hands rest over gallagher’s shaky ones, stopping his fumbling and managing to catch his attention for a minute. he looked so dumbfounded. bottom lip on the brink of bleeding due to his chewing, panting, cheeks flushed a pretty red as his dilated eyes try to focus on you. you swore he looked like he was almost on the brink of crying with how damn pathetic he looked.

“c-can’t… [name], please, help me… ‘s so hot, tight. stupid pants mmngh!” gallagher only moans, tripping over his own words in a jumbled mess as he tries to find some sort of relief for his poor aching cock. looking down, you could briefly make out a dark small patch at the front of his pants. he was so drugged that he couldn’t even tell that he was staining his own clothes with his precum. so cute.

you only hum in response, not bothering to do as he pleads as your hands rest on the fat of his ass, massaging them gently. he only whines, slurred words of how he wanted your hands on his cock falling out as he squirms in your hold. lowering yourselves down to the floor of the room, you shift gallagher on top of you to ride your thigh instead. flexing the muscles in them to make it easier for him as he whimpers at the feeling.

immediately, the man started to hump your thigh. salacious mewls falling out of his lips as he doesn’t even try to silence his loud noises, only dumbly trying to relieve himself as he rubs his clothed cock on your thigh. you could see the dark patch in his pants getting bigger, darker the more he rides your thigh. if he had his dick out, he would probably leave a mess all over your clothes.

“shh shh, puppy. the door isn’t locked, remember?” you chuckle, reminding him of where the two of you were getting naughty at. it was so cute to see his eyes perk up at the sound of your voice. more specifically, whenever you called him puppy. he really did lived up to that nickname, looking like a cute pup as he bites down on his lip.

one of your hands travel up to his chest, opting to play with his perky nipple as he let out a loud squeal at that. his chest was always so sensitive, making him let out the most delicious whimpers each time you roll, pinch or tug at the hardened nub. being so mean to not slip your hands under the opening of his button down shirt at the front, playing with his nipples over the harsh fabrics of his clothes instead. he just wanted your touch on him to relieve the ache pooling in his belly, would you be so mean to deny him of his wishes?

apparently, you would. the hand on the soft fat of his ass moving to rest over his hip, helping him hump his cock on your thigh as your other hand continue their brutal assaults on his chest. poor gallagher, can't even form a single word as his pleads fall out of his swollen lips in a jumbled heap of mess. you could barely make out your own name from it. the words sounding so muddled up as if the bloodhound officer couldn't tell the difference between reality and his drug induced feelings.

"[n-naaammmeee]... sniff pleasheee fuunnghh fucck!! p-pleashh pleaash pleeaasshee♡︎!! ungh!! guuunnhg♥︎♥︎! p-pretty pleaaseee♡︎?" gallagher whines helplessly, stuffing his flushed face into the crook of your neck as his movements become more sloppy and frantic. he was so close to cumming already, it was just so cute to see how easily someone who is apparently always in control to crumble over with just a little bit of thigh riding. and some sprinkle of magic added to the mix.

in an attempt to muffle his loud moans and stuttering of his breath, he hastily lowers the collar of your own button down shirt just a little bit more. just enough so he could bite down over the old, healing bite mark of his so he could attempt to muffle his pathetic noises. you only coo out in a mocking tone, calling him by that nickname again as you tug on his nipple through his shirt as debouched cries of your name falls from his lips over and over like a mantra. gallagher sounded like one of those old, broken down radios that only replay a single song that sometimes is in the bar.

with a final thrust and a meek little bounce on your thigh, gallagher releases into his clothes. the magenta red hue of his pants turning a darker shade as his cum pools into the materials of his pants, staining it as some of the translucent liquid drips down onto your pants. you could just wash them out later.

"done with your little show, puppy?" you ask, the hand on his hip squeezing a bit to snap him out of his hazy mind. instead, you got a shake of his head, his stubble lightly tickling the skin of your neck in the process.

"wan' more... wan' you♥︎" he mumbles, delirious and drooling, as he humps his still hard cock against your crotch, indicating what he craved so desperately. maybe next time you should check the dosage you put into his drink if he's gonna be drugged this heavily by such a small amount.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, lots of shameless teasing by reader, slight exhibitionism, allusions to sex, teeniest tiniest smidge of perv! Steve

A/N: Inspired by the only scene of Cool Hand Luke I've seen. And that one short scene from Elvira: Mistress of the Dark. Just wanted to write something fun and a lil bit silly.

"C'mon sugar, chop chop - 's not gonna clean itself", he sing songs from the driver's seat of the BMW where he's been toying with the radio, scratchy static fading into a chorus of Scorpions' No one like you when he tunes into a station that suits his liking.

On a regular day a quip like that would have had you pinching one of his triceps, twisting the skin until he crumbled to his knees with a litany of pleas and apologies tumbling past his lips. But today was different because you both knew he was exempted from any retaliation. And boy, was he enjoying it.

Steve had been like this all morning, painfully smug, grin stretched Cheshire cat wide ever since you'd come over to make good on the card game you'd lost the night before.

It began as a casual game of poker over a few beers to make the lazy evening more interesting. You never played for much. The white chips were always worth 25 cents, the reds 50 cents and the greens were a dollar but he had you perking up when he suggested sweetening the pot that night.

"Oh yeah? what do you have in mind?", you'd asked this with subdued interest, munching down another mouthful of sea salt and vinegar chips, half expecting him to float the idea of strip poker as influenced by your viewing of The Wanderers earlier that night.

It wasn't unlike Steve to suggest something like that after he's had a few drinks and it wasn't unlike you to happily go along with whatever he's proposed after you've had a few drinks of your own. The two of you made quite a pair that way.

The last time it was skinny dipping down at Lovers Lake. A shared bottle of Gin bore the blame for the idea but by some miracle of intervention (or was it interruption?) Jim Hopper happened to be cruising by to put a stop to it before things could go any further. Nothing like the fuzz rolling up on you in your underwear to dampen the mood.

But last evening didn't take that kind of a turn and you didn't have to sit there cursing yourself for not having the foresight to wear sexier underwear for very long.

This time you laid blame on the beers and that one swig of sickeningly saccharine Pineapple Schnapps left over from a party the week before for impacting your judgement, agreeing to raise the stakes to include the winner getting to delegate their weekend chores to the loser.

Steve went all in, chips tossed into the middle of his mother's new and perfectly lacquered walnut table, too buzzed and wound up in the competitive tension in the room to worry about accidentally scuffing it.

You considered your cards for a few short seconds, poker face perfectly unreadable. A full house, Queens over Jacks sat burning hot in your hands, making you call, pushing your chips over into the pile with more care than Steve had shown his own.

For a moment, you thought you had it and he let you think as much, his pink lips drooping into a frown with his head bowed, hand carding through his hair to mimic defeat when you slid your cards over.

But the thrill of not having to spend half the day mowing your lawn and weeding the garden was extinguished after three glorious seconds. He placed his cards down quietly though when you read them, the impact felt more like a gavel coming down, sentencing you to a day of doing his bidding.

Four of a kind. Kings.

Shit.

The Schnapps and the beer picked that moment to start sparring in your belly, adding to the bitter flavor of defeat washing over your tongue like an oil spill.

And then came that smirk which hasn't left his lips since. "I'll see you in my driveway tomorrow bright and early, sunshine", he winked at you in that way that had you torn between wanting to flip his mother's stupid table and climbing over it to kiss her stupid smarmy son.

And now here you were, greeted by the same insufferable smirk as you trudged up to his driveway on a Saturday morning to wash his car, hangover thankfully averted and with a fresh outlook on the situation since sobering up. He doesn't know it yet but you're not as sore about the loss as you seem.

Strangely, you had Steve's porno collection to thank for that.

You figured him to be kind of guy who preferred a dirty VHS over the classic skin mag especially now that he had an employee discount to abuse but a few months ago you'd found out that you'd guessed wrong.

You hadn't let on about the time you went looking to borrow a pair of spare socks one nippy evening from one of his drawers and found a busty, definitely not a licensed nurse despite the uniform, smoldering back at you instead.

Unearthing the magazine from beneath the pile of tube socks it'd been partially shoved under, you quietly acquainted yourself with the ladies of Genesis Magazine's Girls/Girls Fall 1987 issue. Recalling one page that had been dog eared, you learned the nurse had friends who liked to get naked and soaked when it came time to hose down their cherry red Chevy Camaro.

Suddenly, having you out in the sweltering heat, working up a sweat and scrubbing down his beamer while he watched didn't seem like innocent happenstance anymore. In fact the whole thing made you feel a little inspired.

So you thought to yourself, why not have a little fun?

Granted, you weren't planning on losing your top and straddling the hood like the redhead on page seven. Not in Steve's white picket fence neighborhood of all places, but you did still have something less than savory in mind.

He didn't even suspect anything when you asked to go change into something more comfortable to hose down his precious car, your jeans already feeling more than a little uncomfortable since you'd left your house in this heat.

Another perfectly cloudless azure sky hung over the neighborhood. Too sunny and muggy and at that hour of the morning where everyone else was still inside. Some slept in because it was Saturday while others slept off their Friday night. Those who were awake were already in their pools or in the kitchen, cracking ice cubes out of trays into big, dewy glasses of lemonade, intermittently sipping and holding the chilly glass up to soothe their sweaty temples.

If the heat bothered Steve he didn't show it, one hand resting on the steering wheel, fingers tapping along to the radio awaiting your return. He'd been looking forward to this all night since his winning hand and nothing could sour his anticipation now.

But he couldn't have anticipated what he saw when he catches sight of you through the rear view mirror, his fingers fumbling, losing his composure quicker than if he'd slipped on ice.

You strolled out like something ripped out of one of his wet dreams, shoes swapped for flip flops, snug denim cut offs replacing your jeans, white tee instead of the teal blue you'd shown up in and hips swaying.

His mouth was agape as you walked up to him. "What are you up to?", he spoke in a voice thick with suspicion, stare heavy and darting all over you like there was too much or you on display and not nearly enough at the same time.

"I'm washing your car like you we agreed. Changed your mind?", you challenged him with a hand on your hip, eyes narrowed into a look as sharp as a knife's edge, daring him to question you again.

"No..."

"Alright then", you eased into a smile, more roguish than your usual chaste, bumping your hip against the driver's side door which up until now had been ajar, closing Steve inside. He lets you do this, something about the new clothes coupled with your 'don't fuck with me' vibe making him feel strangely obedient.

Everything you needed was already left out for you. A bucket, a half full bottle of car wash soap, a sponge and the hose nearby.

You start with the hose first, making sure to bend over to pick it up rather than crouch beside it as you turned it on, legs straight, back arched nice and pretty, ass popped out. You didn't spend that extra fifteen minutes stretching at home for nothing!

It's vastly different from all the other times he's stared at your ass. Used to doing it in sneaky glances in the past, Steve can hardly believe the obvious way you flaunt yourself for him now, afraid if you keep it up he might fog up the windshield all on his own.

Running water spouts out the hose and you're not the least bit careful with how you aim the stream into the bucket to fill it up, splashing your thighs and forearms, the sun making your wet skin glow glossy under its rays.

Number 8 on Billboard's top ten singles of the month starts to play on the radio but it goes unheard by Steve over the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears, watching you wrap your fingers around the thick, cylindrical bottle and squeezing it to squirt soap into the bucket.

It's all so calculated and deliberately dirty, even though you try to play it off all innocent. You even plaster on a faux look of surprise when you stand too close to the BMW to rinse it, water splashing back onto your clothes, denim turning dark, white tee turning transparent...

Steve nearly chokes on the saliva pooling in his mouth when he notices that you're not wearing a bra. No swimsuit or even a bikini on underneath. He tears his eyes away long enough to quickly survey the neighborhood and when he doesn't find any of his neighbors in sight he fixes them back on you.

He should stop you, right?

He shouldn't just sit there and watch, right?

It wouldn't be correct to let you parade yourself in front of him like this...

Right?

Turning off the hose, you grasp the sponge and dunk it into the soapy water, pulling it out all sopping and heavy to wring it out over the bucket, purposely holding it close to your chest so the excess water can cascade down your front.

Nothing could have stolen his attention away from the way your tits jiggle in your soaking, skin tight tee as you lean over and put some elbow grease into running the sponge over the hood of his car in soapy circles. Peeking up through your lashes you catch the way his cheeks blend from a subtle mauve to a pretty fuchsia from behind the windshield, deciding you'd like to get a closer look.

He thinks he might flatline when you saunter closer and lean over the side of the hood. Reaching as far as you can to sponge the windshield, you're certain the poor boy's probably straining against his zipper by now as your wet tits press up against the glass.

It's so obvious and indecent. And fun. Getting to dangle yourself in front of Steve like this so unabashedly out here in the open, sticking a pin in that irritating, albeit harmless, cocksure attitude he'd shown you at the start, watching it deflate with a wicked smile.

It was the sweetest torture, watching your body clad in soaked clothes, skin glistening, the contours of your breasts and nipples so evident now that you might as well be topless.

"Can't fucking take this anymore", you hear him mutter when he reaches his limit and exits the car, hand finding your waist to spin you around. He uses the other to snatch the soapy sponge out of your fingers and toss it out of sight, letting it land with a wet plop on the driveway.

"I'm taking you inside", he groans when you lean into him, wet tits pressing against his chest, turning the front of his blue polo a dark navy, thigh grazing his bulge.

"Why?" you ask all coy, not ready to retire the innocent act without batting your lashes at him first, your lips only a breath apart from his.

"Because I don't think they'd let me live here anymore if they came outside and found me bending you over the hood, darling", he replies, a second before his lips come down on yours.

[backseat-l0ver]

wooow first fanfic on tumblr ever this is crazy !!! i’ve literally been trying to write this story for like over a year now i think.. i’m a very unmotivated individual unfortunately. i have so many ideas but never know how to execute them lol

anyway ! reblogs n notes are appreciated <3 i hope you all enjoy !!!

18+ please!!! i’m not afraid to block anybody lol

thigh riding coop in the bus with his teammates yay :3

(m!receiving oral, choking mentioned for like 2 seconds, kinda exhibitionism, it switches between the dynamics so soft dom and sub coop, thigh riding obv, creampie (implied that reader is on birth control), established relationship, fingering, a little bit of fluff bc i have a soft spot for coop, lowkey porn without plot lol) some parts might be a little out of character sorry

word count: 3,150

Sitting in the back of a bus for hours on end with multiple, stinky men is definitely not the way you wanted to spend the next couple of months, but, you’d do anything for Coop. Obviously, you’d prefer to just be at home with him in your guys’ shitty one bedroom apartment, but any time spent with him, alone or not, was worth any sacrifice. So, here you were, stuffed into a bus, sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, counting the hours until your next stop.

You could tell that Coop was getting just as antsy as you were, because he kept bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers against your waist. His knee bouncing was just about getting on your last nerve, because you were so incredibly horny and he had no idea. You take in a deep breath as his bouncing knee hits just the right spot, giving you the tiniest bit of relief. You shut your eyes tightly, gently squeezing Coop’s hand that you’ve been holding for almost the entire trip. He lifts his head slightly from your shoulder, humming softly. “You okay, baby..?” He whispers in your ear. Just hearing his tired voice directly in your ear was enough to make you clench around nothing. “Mm.. Yeah.. Just..” You trail off, moving Coop’s hand that you’re holding to underneath your skirt and in between your thighs, letting him feel how worked up you are. You can feel the heat coming off his face, as he cups your heat. “You keep bouncing your knee and it’s getting me all worked up..” You whisper in his ear, now trying to grind against his hand. He moves his hand away, moving it to squeeze your thigh instead. He looks around the bus quickly, noticing that everyone is asleep. “Baby.. we can’t do this here..” He whispers. You whine softly, starting to grind against his thigh again. “Please, Coop.. I’ll be quiet..” You turn your head slightly, looking at him with a pout on your face. “I- well..” He stutters out, once again looking around the bus to make sure everyone is asleep. You whine softly, moving your hips against his thigh. “I’ll make it up to you at the next stop..” You whisper to him, smiling sweetly at him. His breath catches in his throat, his face becoming an even deeper shade of red. He sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth, thinking about your request. His hand squeezes your thigh again tightly, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Just.. please be quiet..” He kisses your jaw gently, now helping you move your hips against his thigh. His lips continue moving down your neck, leaving love bites along it. His hands move to grip your waist, as you bite your lip. “Mmph.. Coop, love your thighs so much..” You whisper, leaning your head back against his shoulder. He smiles softly at the compliment, moving one his hands up your torso. “Yeah? When we’re back home you’ll have to show me just how much..” He whispers back, lifting his thigh up to meet your hip movements. His hand moving up your torso goes under your (his) Beers jersey, going underneath your bra. His fingers go around your nipples, pinching them softly. “Coop.. It’s not enough..” You whine softly, grabbing his other hand, shoving it towards your clothed cunt. “Please, baby..” You beg quietly.

You can feel his breathing pick up, as he continues kissing and biting at your neck. “Of course, honey..” His hand pushes underneath your skirt again, spreading your legs. He moves his hand slowly up your thigh, soon cupping his hand against your heat. “Fuck.. You’re so wet for me, huh, baby?” You can feel him smirk against your neck, as you blush deeply. “God, please just touch me already, Coop. I can’t handle the teasing anymore..” You whimper out, him finally pressing his fingers against your panties, just over your clit. He starts circling his fingers, making you throw your head back again. “Oh, my God..” You whisper. He continues circling his fingers, his other hand still working on your chest. “Fuuuck.. You’re such a good girl..” He whispers, before sucking a dark hickey on your neck. You let out a quiet moan at the praise, grinding your hips against his fingers. He takes his fingers away from your cunt quickly, sticking two of them up to your lips, “Suck.” He says simply, tapping your lips gently. You open your mouth quickly, sucking on his fingers. You run your tongue along them, getting them coated in your spit. “Good girl.” He moves his hand back down, now shoving them in your underwear, running his fingers along your folds. He scoots down in the seat, giving him better access to your hole. He shoves his fingers into your hole, his thumb starting to circle your clit again. You let out a choked moan, squeezing your thighs. Coop quickly shushes you, moving his hand from under the jersey and wrapping his hand around your throat. “Be quiet or I won’t let you cum until we’re back home. Not the next stop, or even the one after that. When we’re back at our apartment in like, 2 months, understand?” He whispers hastily, squeezing the sides of your throat. You nod quickly, clenching around his fingers inside you. “Y- yes, Coop..” You choke out. He smiles, starting to pump his fingers quickly inside of you.

You loved this side of Coop, when he was kind of mean. It was a complete 180 to his usual demeanor towards you. To his friends, he was kind of an asshole, but he has an almost embarrassing sweet-spot for you. You had him wrapped around your finger, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. No matter how much the rest of the team made fun of him, you both knew all of them were jealous that he has you. You’re absolutely his biggest supporter and he honestly does not know what’d he do without you.

His thumb continues rubbing your clit quickly, his fingers inside you doing just the same. You bite your lip again, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Coop.. ‘m so close..” You sigh out. You can feel your legs start to shake as he puts a hand over your mouth. “Come on, baby… It’s okay, I got you..” He whispers in your ear, his fingers keeping the same pace. Your legs squeeze tightly around his wrist, moaning into his hand quietly as you come undone. “Good girl.. You’re so good for me..” He kisses along your neck, helping you ride out your orgasm.

After a couple of minutes of you panting against his hand and clenching around his fingers, he finally pulls them out. He immediately brings them up to his mouth, sucking on them. He groans quietly at the taste of you on his fingers, heat spreading across your face. “You taste so good..” He whispers in your ear.

After helping you fix your clothes to the best of his abilities, promising you that he’ll take care of you at the next stop, he lets you lay against his chest to try and rest. The next stop was only about 30 minutes away, and you were so looking forward to being in an actual bed after being on the road for 7+ hours. Plus, with Coop being owner and captain of the Beers, he always got you guys a private hotel room.

-

After everyone grabbed their luggages from underneath the bus, saying quick good nights to each other, you finally had Coop all to yourself. When you guys set down your luggages in the room, placing your pajamas out for the night, Coop’s hands were all over you again. He grabbed your face with both his hands gently, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in a loving manner, at first, but soon turned more heated. After a few moments he was grabbing at your hair and moving his hands down your neck, onto your chest. He felt you through your shirt, grabbing and squeezing whatever he could get his hands on. “You’re rather eager..” You whisper teasingly, smirking up at him. He chuckles, “Says the one who was begging to cum on my fingers in a bus earlier.” He shoots back, smiling. You playfully roll your eyes, smacking his arm gently. “Shush, or I’ll put that mouth to good work.” You retort.

“Hm.. How about you first? You still owe me.” He moves one of his hands back up to your face, brushing some hair away. You feel your face heat up, shyly looking away. He gently brings your head back to look at him. There’s a devious smirk on his face, and his eyes are gesturing for you to look down when you finally meet his gaze again. You look down slowly, a noticeable tent in Coop’s gym shorts. You bite your lip softly, placing your hands on his shoulders. You put your mouth up by his ear, kissing his cheek gently, “Don’t worry, baby.. I’ll take care of you..”

You feel him shudder at your words, a dazed smile on his face. You smile back at him, walking him backwards towards the bed. He plops down, looking up at you. You caress his face, feeling him lean into your touch. You rub his cheek softly with your thumb, leaning down and kissing him. He comes up to meet you eagerly, groaning softly when your lips finally meet again. You pull away slowly, him following you pathetically. You smirk down at him, before sinking down onto your knees in front of him. You look up at him sweetly, running your hands up his thighs. He leans back, his arms holding him up so he can still look at you. Your hands finally land on his hard cock, feeling him up through his pants. He sighs, throwing his head back slightly. “Your hand feels like heaven..” He whimpers out as you continue to move your hand up and down against him. “Mm.. I bet my mouth will feel even better, Coop.” You slide your hands up, starting to pull his gym shorts down. He shivers slightly at the cool air of the hotel A/C, but it’s quickly resolved by you putting your hand back on him. He groans at the feeling of your hand, bucking his hips up into your movements. “Hoooly shit..” He pants out. “I.. I need your mouth on me.. Please..” He whimpers again, looking down at you with an almost pained look on his face. You smile back at him, simply nodding. “Of course, you asked so sweetly.”

You move your hand, bringing your mouth down to the tip of his cock. You swirl your tongue around it, your saliva dripping down the sides. His hands quickly grip the bed sheets, a moan escaping his mouth. You continue moving farther down his cock, trying to take all of him in. Coop was quite girthy, and just over 6 inches in length. You had your work cut out for you.

You made it about halfway down the length, gagging. What was left was occupied by your hand again. You started slow, your tongue pressed flat against the bottom side of his cock, moving your head up and down, gagging every now and then. Coop still had a tight grip on the bed sheets, but was looking down at you, watching your every movement. As you looked back at him, you could see the gears in his mind turning, as he sat up slightly, grabbing a handful of your hair on the crown of your head. He pulls your head back slightly and bucks his hips into your mouth again. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat quickly, as he pulls back again, getting ready to buck up into your mouth again. “Fuck.. You’re so good to me.. Your mouth is amazing..” He groans out, his grip tight on your hair. You moan softly at his words, rubbing your thighs together. The feeling of your moan sends a wave of pleasure through Coop, making him buck up into your mouth again. “If you keep this up, I’ll cum immediately, baby.. You’re too good.” He bites his lip, reluctantly pulling your mouth away from his cock,

“I wanna cum in a different hole of yours.” He says, that damn smirk on his face again. He grabs your jaw, pulling you up to your feet. He’s still sitting down, but once you’re fully standing up again, his hands are on your thighs once again, bringing you towards him. “C’mere.” He says, pulling you down on his lap, you two now face to face. He smiles at you lovingly, leaning in to kiss you again. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your hands going to his hair. You slowly sink down, your still-wet panties from the bus ride sticking to you even more as you grind against Coop’s hard cock. His hands go to your hips, squeezing them. His hips buck into yours, soft moans from both of you filling the room.

“I need to be inside you, baby..” He whimpers, looking up at you dreamily. You cradle his face gently, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. He leans into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm. “I love you.” He mumbles against your hand.

Even after the hundreds of times he's said it to you, it never fails to make you feel giddy inside. You smile at him, kissing him again. “I love you too, Coop.” You reply against his lips. His hands grip your hips a little tighter again, moving you so you're sitting next to him on the bed. “Lay down, let me take care of you.” He gets up, placing a kiss on your forehead. You stand up quickly, taking your panties and skirt off, going back to the bed and laying down. Coop slips off his shirt coming to join you on the bed.

He sits in front of you on his knees, in between your legs. He moves forward, putting his hands on either side of your head. He looks down at you admirably, leaning his head down to give you another kiss. You put your hands on his now exposed shoulders, loving the skin-to-skin contact with him. You can feel him shiver at the contact, his skin warm and soft to the touch. He moves his body closer to you, his cock touching your thigh, his precum sticking to you. You move one of your hands from his shoulder, grabbing his cock. You guide the tip towards your cunt, rubbing it up and down and getting his tip wet. He shudders, bucking his hips into yours again. “Fuuck.. You’re so wet.” He grunts, moving one of his hands to your hip. “Are you ready? I don't think I can wait any longer.” He bites his lip softly, grinding his hips against you.

You respond simply by finally putting the head of his cock in you, both of you moaning. He moves his hips forward slowly, the rest of his cock slipping inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, filling you up deliciously. He squeezes your hip tightly, groaning at the feeling of you around him. “You're so tight, feels so good.” You moan at his praise, clenching around him and trying to pull more of him in. “You're so big, Coop. Filling me up so good.” You moan out, scratching along his back with your nails.

After a few moments of him slowly pumping in and out of you, he starts to speed up, the sounds of his and yours moans along with the sound of skin slapping skin filling the hotel room. Thank God the bed’s headboard was connected to the wall or you guys would've woken up Remer next door with whatever girl was with him tonight.

Coop pushed himself off his arm by your head, leaning back and putting his now free hand on your clit and rubbing circles on it with his thumb. He continues pumping in and out of you, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck, Coop, I’m already so close..” You whimper, continuing to clench around him and moan every time he touches you just right. “Me too, baby. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He groans out, his cock twitching inside you. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face close to yours again and kissing him deeply. His tongue darts out into your mouth, playing with yours. His thumb on your clit speeds up and his thrusts become deeper and harder.

“Coop, I’m gonna…” You blurt before your climax hits you like a truck. You clench tightly around Coop, your legs shaking. Your moans are swallowed by his mouth as he helps you ride out your orgasm. “Just a little more, honey. I'm so close.” He pants, his thrusts becoming progressively sloppier and more desperate. Coop always becomes extremely whiny before he cums, always blabbering praises- “You're so good to me”, “You feel amazing”, “You're so beautiful.” As you were coming in and out of the ecstasy of your orgasm, you could feel his hot cum covering your insides. He nuzzles his head into your neck, biting down on the sensitive skin to quiet his loud moans and whimpers.

For a few moments you stayed like this with him, entangled with him. His cock becoming soft inside you, and his body becoming limp on top of you. You both were exhausted from both the bus ride and… that. But, you knew you both should shower before finally going to sleep.

“Coop, sweetie.” You whisper, running your hand through his hair. He grunts, turning his head from inside your neck. “We should get cleaned up and changed, then we can sleep, yeah?” You say, his sleepy eyes barely open. He groans dramatically, starting to get up off you. “Whatever you say, mom.” He says sarcastically with a scoff. You roll your eyes, pushing his chest. “Shut up, you'll thank me later.” You retort, and he smiles down at you, kissing you again softly.

After you both get cleaned up and put on your pajamas, you get under the covers with each other. Coop wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to him. He's so warm and comfortable to lay on, you fall asleep almost immediately, but Coop clears his throat.

“I love you a lot, y'know?” He says sleepily, rubbing his nose against your cheek. “You're just.. You’re awesome.” He says, and you can hear the smile on his face. You turn towards him, kissing him softly. “I love you too, Coop.” You say, a cheesy smile on both your faces. You fall asleep shortly after, getting much needed sleep for getting back on the road the next day.

[keisurou]

late night rendezvous

i’m blaming @kazutoraloml for this post. i hate hanamiya makoto. i despise him, but it’s fun to sometimes humanise him a little.. also this idea would not leave me alone so—

minors dni. warnings: threesome (mmf), exhibitionism, voyeurism, male masturbation, oral (f! and m! receiving) praise + degradation kink, slight daddy kink, overstimulation, dacryphilia, lower case intended, unedited, i don’t know how to write threesomes and this is my first time so don’t come at me.

“teppei—no, we can’t—”

hanamiya stops walking, his ears on high alert for the slightest noise. he knows he’s heard right. that was definitely you, but what were you doing with the resident good boy this late at night?

“no one’s here.” he can barely make out the soft, irritating voice from behind the walls. “don’t you trust me?”

it’s a well known fact that hanamiya hates kiyoshi teppei. what most don’t know is that hanamiya has the teeniest, tiniest crush on you.

it’s not even a crush really. he tries to convince himself. only base level attraction. it’s to help lessen the blow for when it comes because he’s seen the way you and kiyoshi look at each other. it‘s downright sickening.

and maybe it’s karma, maybe is finally payback for all the shit he’s done to other people—to kiyoshi himself—but curiousity gets the better of him and hanamiya peeks in through the crack of the door. 

it’s his first mistake of the night.

you’re seated a desk, legs spread apart and hooked over kiyoshi’s shoulders. for all his intellect, it takes hanamiya a few seconds longer than it should to wrap his head around the situation. his eyebrows pinch together, and for once, he doesn’t know his next plan of action. 

he should leave. should turn right around and leave this building. he should hop into his car and drive home to take a shower so he can fuck his fist to the image of your blissed our face on the verge of an orgasm as you hold onto him, begging for more.

but he doesn’t. he won’t because his fingers twitch at his sides and his cock throbs traitorously in his jeans. he won’t because he wants to see the real deal, needs to know exactly how you like to be fucked more than anything. 

so he stays. he stays, hidden in the darkness of the hallway and watches seethingly at how kiyoshi touches you with teasing flicks of his tongue and soft strokes and caresses as his hands run down your chest, your ass, in-between your thighs until you’re rocking your hips against his face with soft, breathy moans. he stays hidden as he begrudingly takes out his hard cock from his jeans, thumbing at the tip before he grips himself at the base, squeezing before stroking himself. 

“you wanna help?”

kiyoshi’s voice is louder than it should be, and hanamiya stiffens like a deer in headlights. he can see the way you peek over your boyfriend’s head to stare at his state of undress before you let out a quiet whimper. 

“what?” his lips move before he can help himself. work together with kiyoshi teppei? he lets out a scoff at the thought. not a chance in hell. 

 kiyoshi gives him an easy smile. it’s concerning, really, how he maintains eye contact despite the way you’re squirming and panting under his fingers. “come on, you want to, and she also wants you to,”

he turns his gaze to you, and you seem to shrink under it, inching away until you’re covered by kiyoshi’s body. but you’re curious, he can tell from the way your eyes flicker to his every now and then; from the way you moan a little louder now. it’s what prompts him to move forward until he’s inches from you splayed out on the table. it’s the way you eye his cock almost desperately regardless of the fact that your boyfriend is fucking into you from behind that has hanamiya shucking his pants again for the second time that night.

it’s his second mistake of the night.

“open up,” hanamiya watches, feverish, as your tongue peeks out to run along your lower lip. you bat your lashes up at him, and they flutter every time kiyoshi’s hand connects with the fat of your ass as he thrusts into you. his gaze zeroes in on the way you kiss the tip of his cock before licking along the weeping slit. he’s tempted to push into your mouth without your permission, to feel you gag and drool around his length until you’re drunk off his cock. “quit bein’ such a needy brat.”

“c’mon. you heard him, sweetheart,” kiyoshi grunts out, his voice low and strained as he pulls out of you. hanamiya can see the smear of your wetness all along kiyoshi’s cock and lower abdomen as spreads your legs apart, rearranging them so he can fuck you harder; reach inside you even deeper. “you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“yeah—yeah ‘m good—” your back arches as you push yourself back until you’re pressed flush against kiyoshi’s abdomen. “wanna cum, please,”

“ask properly,” hanamiya slaps your cheek with his cock, watches the way your tongue pokes out eagerly before sliding along the sensitive underside up to the swollen tip. god, he wants to ruin you; can’t wait to make you cry until you’re wailing around his cock for him only. “who’s going to make you cum?”

your lips tremble slightly. he doesn’t know whether its from his harsh voice or the fact that he’s just delaying your impeding orgasm but he’s surprised at how pretty you look when you’re sad. he wants to find out how much prettier you’d look while you’re crying. 

“tep—teppei,” you hiccup around the words, voice shaky with extertion and the sheer effort it takes to hold yourself up on the table to turn around and look back at your boyfriend. “teppei, wanna cum, please,” 

“wrong answer,” hanamiya answers before kiyoshi can reply. his fingers grip at your face as he bends down to your eye level. tear tracks run down your cheeks and your mascara has smeared along the edges of your eyes. but its the way you shake your head with hiccuped sobs that have him falling forward, angling your face towards his until your lips are only a breath away. “try again,” 

that was his third mistake of the night.

you bite down on your bottom lip as your eyebrows furrow. “daddy, ‘m gonna—’m gonna cum���”

hanamiya doesn’t comprehend what you’ve said straight away but he hears it nonetheless. he hears it and kiyoshi hears it, and hanamiya can hear the low, broken growl that erupts from the latter’s throat as his hips stutter, struggling to fuck into you even faster. he sounds as wrecked as you do, with your high keens as you cling onto hanamiya biceps, your pretty pastel nails digging into the hard muscle. 

he’s delirious, eyes zoomed in on the way your teeth drag along your plump bottom lip as your grip on his arms tighten. you’re close, he can tell with the way your body practically vibrates in tune under kiyoshi’s touch. he can see the way your toes curl as your hands scramble to find purchase on the surface. he can hear the way you come apart in front of him with a breathless wail that tapers out into small, stuttering whimpers. he can’t look away; can’t stop himself from cumming all over you in hot, sticky ropes—not when you’re looking at him with glossy eyes as you sob out “please, please, teppei—i can’t i can’t makoto please—”

he’s absolutely ruined. you’ve ruined him for life, for anyone else because hanamiya knows his own flaws. he knows all his flaws and weaknesses, and if he gets even a taste of something, he will take it. you were never an exception in this case. 

he watches the way your limbs go limp, watches the way your thighs twitch and shake as you let out a whine when kiyoshi pushes his fingers into your drooling cunt to keep his cum stuffed inside you as much as he can. he hates the way his dick twitches, stirring to half mast at the way you cry out when kiyoshi plays with your clit one last time before pressing a sloppy kiss to it. 

but it’s hard for hanamiya to hate kiyoshi when he lifts you up to lean against his chest so you’re on display for him. it’s hard to hate him when ignores your whimpers and little cries before spreading your legs open instead until your cunt is on display, wet and begging for attention. 

“let’s switch it up a bit,”

[renxzs]

Beneath Neon Lights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean seizes the opportunity to “tickle fight” you into submission on the couch in order to stake claim on the remote. However, one thing leads to another and he stakes his claim on your heart instead.

Dialogue prompt: “Give me the remote.”

Warnings / Tags: mutual pinning, the tiniest bit of angst, fluff, cursing, minor smut (dry humping, slight exhibitionism?)

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Thank you so much to @justkending​ for hosting your writing challenge last year! Congrats again on the follower milestone—you deserve each and every one of them! Also...since it’s been over a year since the original challenge due date (oops), I believe a happy belated birthday is in order! 💕 Thank you so much for your patience and understanding. I hope you like this! (sorry it took so long).

The sun begins to lower in the sky. Oranges and yellows filter through the flimsy curtains that hang in the window of the cheap motel room, casting a warm glow throughout. Muscles ache from the earlier hunt; a vamp nest, which posed a greater challenge in wiping out than initially anticipated. The lead you got from a fellow hunter up in northern Ohio suspected it to be a nest of four, maybe five. Easy enough; you’ve ganked worse.

There were ten.

Regardless - though, not without struggle and a few bruises and cuts - the job got done. The cost varies, but it always gets done.

Legs, crossed at the ankle and outstretched on the lumpy couch cushions, are cladded in your favorite pair of well-worn leggings. Your entire body sags in sigh as you relax against the arm of the couch. The TV dimly plays in the background, long forgotten as you scroll through your phone. Eyes flick up, pausing in reading the list of online news headlines as soft snores reach your ears. Casting a glance over the back of the couch has your lips involuntarily curling into a smile.

Dean is slouched in one of the beds, half propped up against the headboard, chin resting against his chest. He’s still cladded in flannel and jeans, too beat to change into something a bit more comfortable upon returning to the motel earlier. One arm now rests across his midriff while the other lays at his side with the TV remote in hand. You snort softly at the sight.

He looks so peaceful, face slacken with sleep. A tightness creeps into your chest as you revel in the rare moment of seeing Dean like this. Unguarded and soft. Hard lines of guilt, self-loathing, and self-accredited failure now smoothed away, barely there. Left exposed is a man with too good of a heart, starved of gentleness and love; of reassurance that things will be okay.

You yearn to give him those things. The love and gentleness he is more than worthy of. Deserves. To help carry some of the heaviness he willing shoulders, having such a visceral need to claim responsibility for every faced hardship you all encounter, every setback, in the pursuit of making the world a little less shitty of a place.

Never does he complain. 

Always wanting to shield you and Sam from the inevitable struggle and pain of life as a hunter the best he can. So used to being his brother's keeper growing up. But the pressure of that kind of weight and stress causes cracks, and so many litter his armor. It makes your heart ache to watch it happen before your eyes. To have him refuse to share with you the burden. To helplessly watch on as he temporarily mends the cracks with a steady flow of whiskey.

Dean was tired.

Enervated.

Fingers itch to reach out and run along the line of his jaw, across the now smooth skin between his brows that’s usually pinched with worry. Your eyes drop back down to the phone in your hand, thankful you were settled on the couch, distance preventing you from doing something so foolish. The screen of the phone was now black, having dimmed into standby mode while lost in thoughts of the man gently snoring a few feet away.

Chest expands with a heaved sigh as you drop your phone onto the rickety coffee table nestled in the small space between the couch and TV stand. You scrub a hand across your face and stretch stiff muscles before pushing up off the couch and making your way to the small kitchenette. A growling stomach has you assessing the contents of the tiny fridge. A few bottled waters and a six-pack of beer are its only occupants. You fight off the eyeroll as you snag a beer and discard the twist-off cap. 

No wonder Sam was eager to explore that little farmer’s market you passed on your drive into town this morning.

You raise the chilled bottle to your lips and take a swig, sidling up to a slumbering Dean. Gently you pull the remote from his loosened grasp so as not to wake him. He immediately stirs with a sharp inhale, eyes squinting against the fiery light of the setting sun. Years of being a hunter has conditioned him to wake at the slightest disturbance - you never know what could be lurking during your most vulnerable moments.

It’s difficult not to smile at the grumpy look on his face as awareness slowly comes back to him. Remote in hand and a cold beer in the other, you make your way over to the couch and drop down unceremoniously on the center cushion. Calling over your shoulder to Dean, “Mornin’ sunshine.”

You flip through the grainy channels while taking another swig of beer before setting the bottle down on the coffee table. Stretching out along the length of the couch and back leaned against the armrest once more, you make yourself comfortable. 

Dean grunts in response. The bed creaks and sheets rustle as he resituates, most likely moving into a sitting position propped up against the headboard.

“Sammy still out?” Voice gravelly with remnants of sleep causes your insides to squirm.

Toes twitch to curl and you hum out an mhm, actively trying to ignore the way your body involuntarily responds to his voice. Your eyes carefully remain trained on the TV screen. 

Unreasonably attractive men in scrubs catch your attention during the mindless flipping through channels. You backtrack to the passed over channel. Sure enough, Dr. Sexy, MD was playing. An exasperated groan sounds from behind you.

“This crap? Really?” Lips tug into a smirk at the notes of mock annoyance in his voice.

You scoff teasingly. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you binge watching this before.” You raise the remote into his view with a taunting shake. “Besides I have remote privileges.”

“And you’re about to lose ‘em, sweetheart.” The threat sends an inexplicable thrill through you.

Bed creaking under shifting weight has your head snapping in his direction. A nefarious smirk plays on his lips and emerald eyes glint with an air of playfulness. Something twists low in your belly and your heart thumps in your chest.

Dean stalks around the end of the couch where your feet lie, intense gaze never straying from you. Like a predator hunting its prey.

“Last chance. Give me the remote.” His hand is outstretched expectantly and voice laced with a faux sternness. 

Eyes narrow in challenge.

“Not a chance, Winchester.” Your tone is smug, definitive. Fingers tighten around the small plastic electronic to emphasize your words.

A long sigh drags from his lungs that clearly says, I warned you.

Before you have time to think, Dean wraps a large hand around your ankle and pulls you down the couch with ease. His name leaves your lips in a shriek. You make a half-hearted attempt to kick him away as he breaks into a full-on toothy grin, clamouring over the edge of the couch and trapping your legs beneath his weight. Your attempts to wiggle away are futile, so you stretch the remote up past your head to keep it out of his reach.

“Give me… the… remote…” He huffs out between low chuckles as he crawls up your squirming body.

A mangled “never” falls from your lips and you fail to bite back laughter. Fingers move expertly against your sides, knowing all of your most ticklish spots. Your body jerks, attempts to flinch away from his assaults.

“Dean!” A stitch begins to form in your side and you gasp for breath. Attention momentarily unfocused, Dean leans forward, stretching along the length of you for the remote still held past your head. He falls against you with an oomph, just barely coming up short.

His proximity is an onslaught to your senses - his heady scent, the weight and warmth of his solid body pressing against yours, his soft puffs of breath fanning your face. The laughter and lightness of the previous moment dies in your throat. The shift in air palpable, thick with an anticipation that unfurls a swell of liquid heat deep in your belly.

Dean’s gaze flits across your face, searching. What for, you aren’t sure. There isn’t time to mull it over, though. Not with your heartbeat thudding in your ears and your head feeling increasingly light because he’s shifting, sloting himself more comfortably between your legs. They fall open easily, unconsciously welcoming him.

The itch to touch him surges through you once more and this time you don’t quell it. Your free hand delicately ghosts up the plane of his back. You relish in the way his muscles twitch and roll beneath your touch. Green eyes briefly fall to your barely parted lips before meeting yours again, darkened and seemingly hopeful. 

Dean begins to lean in, slowly closing the charged space between you. Your fingers tightly grip at the material of his shirt to steady the trembling in your hand. If only there was as simple of a solution to steady the erratic thumping of your heart.

Dusky lips linger just above yours for a beat and then he is pressing them against yours - soft and warm - gently working against one another.

Lips break apart momentarily but he doesn’t pull back, head resting against yours. A myriad of emotions wash over you. A potent mixture of anticipation, excitement, and nerves coursing through your veins. Heavy lids slowly open and you catch him staring back, the pretty green of his irises a thin rim around his dilated pupils - looking as if he could devour you whole - and you’re nearly thrown off kilter.

Breath catches in your throat, the intensity of his gaze scorching. Your body ignites with a returned want for him, unearthed from a place you had kept buried down deep. Without another thought, your head tilts up just the slightest bit to capture his lips once more.

Dean’s response is instantaneous.

Fingers thread through your hair as he dips down to kiss you back. Soft and slow until it's not, helpless against the building heat threatening to set you both ablaze. His other hand grips greedily at your hip, thumb smoothing over exposed skin.

The remote slipping from your fingers and clanking against the floor dimly registers in the back of your mind. It is clouded and filled to the brim with all that is Dean - the press of his solid body against yours; the radiating warmth from his large hands seeping into your skin as they explore; the mixed smell of pine, leather, and gunpowder infiltrating your senses; the trace of his tongue against your bottom lip; the low moan that reverberates in his chest as you let him in.

Your hands slip beneath the flannel and cotton undershirt to meet heated skin. Swallowing down his groans, nails graze up the length of his back then back down. Fingertips dip beneath the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs, digging into the flesh just above the beginning curve of his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to take more. Hips roll against yours at their own volition in response. 

You’d normally be embarrassed by the choked sound of pleasure that tumbles from your lips, but are too engrossed with chasing after that delicious friction to care. Dean seems to share your same sentiment as his hand smooths down from your hip to grip your thigh. Hitching your leg up, he slowly thrusts against the blooming heat of your core. Oh. You suck in a sharp breath and lift your hips to his.

Dean’s answering groan is low and throaty and coated with desire. His head falls forward and lips tenderly meet sensitive skin just below your ear.

Your mind is buzzing with how amazing it all feels. How good he- 

The familiar rumble of Baby in the distance, signaling Sam’s return, is like a douse of ice water plunging you back to your senses. Movements fueled by raw desire and need were now frozen with trepidation. Dean’s eyes dart to yours but you can’t decipher the emotion behind them fast enough before the weight of him is gone.

Sitting upright, you rake a hand through your hair in an attempt to smooth it out just as Sam inserts the keycard on the other side of the motel door. A moment later, he breezes through the doorway and tosses the car keys on the small table next to the door, oblivious to what had transpired only moments prior. Two plastic sacks hang from his arms, inevitably filled with fresh produce and a variety of snacks.

Your heart ricochets in your chest and thumps loudly in your ears as you drag in steady breaths through your nose in an attempt to calm yourself. Cheeks flush with heat, surely a combination of the adrenaline and arousal still coursing through you, as well as a tinge of embarrassment for nearly being caught. You suck a kiss-swollen lip into your mouth, catching it between the bite of your teeth. Your eyes shift to Dean who is miraculously perched on the opposite end of the couch. As far from you as he can manage. 

He won’t look at you.

Stones form deep in the pit of your stomach, suddenly feeling ashamed.

Eyes drop to the dingy carpet your toes curl into, finding anything to ground yourself to keep from down-spiraling. The sick churning in your gut has you feeling nauseous and your chest tightens with the threat of tears. 

You suck in a sharp breath. No. You are not going to cry over this. Not here, not now. You have already made enough of a fool of yourself, you chide.

Sudden movement in your peripheral snags your attention. Dean is now standing, and still entirely avoiding looking in your general direction.

He hastily walks over to where his dirty boots were kicked off earlier and shoves his socked feet into them. Grabbing his jacket from its position slung over a dining chair, he shrugs it on and snatches the keys from the table.

Sam’s brows furrow. “Where are you going?”

Dean grates a gruff “out” in response, unwilling to offer any further explanation.

Sam raises an eyebrow just as the door is pulled closed behind Dean with a bit more force than necessary. He shifts a questioning glance to you. Hands rise with palms upturned, the plastic sacks still swaying from his wrists, in a manner that wordlessly asks ‘what the hell was that?’

You shake your head while offering a small shrug, hoping to any god out there that the remnants of what just took place between you and Dean couldn’t be read on your face. Sam’s eyebrows raise almost comically as he lets out a long breath with a shake of his head. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Dean to get into one of his moods and need some space with his thoughts. Sam appears to be chalking this odd situation up to one of those moments.

He pulls a chair out from the table and takes a seat as he begins to empty the bags of their contents. His head tips in the direction of where you are sitting and raises a food container. “Want some?”

The idea of eating anything now makes you feel sick. How could you be expected to have an appetite when the man you have been lovesick over for months just rejected you. He physically left the premises to get away from you.

A gentle shake of the head and a small smile are all you can muster up. “No thanks, Sam. I actually think I’m gonna try to nap for a bit. I’m really tired.”

The softness in his eyes emanates understanding, and he nods. Always gentle and comforting. It nearly has the words spilling from your lips of what just took place in the moments before his untimely interruption, the urge to confide in him pressing against your tongue.

You bite it instead.

You ease back down onto the couch out of Sam’s view and tightly curl up into yourself. Tears prick behind your eyes. Blinking several times to combat the welling moisture is futile as one unbidden droplet slips from the corner of your eye and disappears into the scratchy material of the sofa cushion. A second quickly follows, running over the bridge of your nose before seeping into the material beneath you.

You are careful not to sniff too loudly as not to draw Sam’s unwanted attention and concern. You burrow deeper into the grungy sofa and bury your face into your hands, repeatedly wishing you were back at the bunker so you could properly wallow in the safety of your room.

Limbs feel heavy, and your heart more so. Physical exhaustion from all the hunts finally catches up with you, creeping deep into your bones. A complimentary mental exhaustion muddles your mind and tightens in your chest, heart twisting and aching. Breaths begin to steady as you let go and slip beneath it. 

****

Eyes slowly open and blink the sleep away. It takes a moment to remember where you are. The room is dark save the dim flickering light above the kitchenette area and the soft glow of the TV. The digital numbers on the outdated VCR beneath it read 10:27 PM. You slept for nearly three hours.

The heel of a palm presses and rubs against your eye before dragging it down the side of your face. Slowly you rise into a sitting position, a soft groan escaping your lips as your body protests your decision to sleep so long curled up on a lumpy sofa that offers no proper support. Shoulders roll absentmindedly and a hand massages at the kink that has formed in your neck.

A dark object on the floor just off to the side catches your eye - the remote - and everything suddenly everything slams back to you.

You and Dean play fighting over the remote. Dean’s body hovering over yours. His lips pressed to yours. The dizzying high. His rejection and the plummeting feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You swallow thickly and twist around to cast a glance at the beds behind you. Sam’s oversized figure is sound asleep in one of the beds, his steady breaths filling the small room. Eyes shift over to the second bed- empty. 

Your features pucker with a mixture of confusion and frustration. 

Dean still had yet to come back to the motel and face you. 

Knowing him, he was probably at the local bar sipping on a whiskey neat in utter denial until he could find a way to justify his earlier actions and take it all back.

A long sigh cuts through the silence as you reach for the warm beer still residing on the coffee table. You trudge over to the tiny sink in the kitchenette, soundlessly pouring out the bottle before depositing it in the trash.

Thirsty and in need of any distraction to keep your mind preoccupied, you fish out a few loose quarters from your wallet, shrug on a light jacket, snag the motel keycard off the table, and quietly slip out of the room. The nighttime air is a bit cooler now that the sun no longer hangs high in the sky. The crisp coolness helps clear your head and is easier to breathe than the stuffy atmosphere of the motel room.

A vending machine resides a few feet ahead, destination in sight. The hum and glow of its display lights grow as you approach closer. The machine is stocked full of off-brand sodas - lucky for you, you happen to enjoy Mr. Pibb.

At least you can have one good thing tonight, you think while depositing a quarter into the coin slot.

The metallic clank of the quarter sounds through the machine as it travels down to the small coin cup towards the bottom. Brows furrow at the returned coin as you reach to retrieve it, pushing it into the coin slot once more. The quarter is immediately spit out into the returned coin cup again. Belatedly you notice the small tattered sign taped to the machine above the selection buttons: Dollar bills only. Sorry for the inconvenience.

You drop your head back and groan internally while stuffing the now useless change into your jacket. Apparently you spoke too soon on having at least one nice thing tonight.

“In need of a dollar?” The unexpected voice nearly has you jumping out of your skin. Whipping around brings you face to face with the man you’re currently trying to push out of mind.

“Dean. You scared me.” A small hand falls to your chest as if that would calm your thumping heart. “What are you doing out here? When did you get back?”

He only offers a shrug as he pulls a well-worn dollar bill from his wallet and feeds it into the machine. It whirs a moment before accepting the dollar. You huff. Stupid vending machine.

Dean reaches in front of you to press a selection button - the faint smell of whiskey on him confirms your earlier assumption - and a can drops into the retrieval slot. He reaches down to grab the soda and holds it out for you to take. You stare blankly at the can of Mr. Pibb in his large hand, frozen in place because he knew.

He raises a brow at your hesitation. Pushing away the shock, senses return and you gingerly take the can from his outstretched hand.

“Thank you.”

He nods.

The silence that stretches between the two of you is awkward, and you hate it. It’s never awkward between the two of you. Your friendship has always been easy, as have the conversations. Maybe it was too easy and comfortable and that’s why your stupid heart got caught up in it all in the first place - in him.

Waiting a moment longer, the silence stretches on. With resignation, you begin stepping past him to head back in the direction of the motel room.

A large hand catches your arm and you look back to pleading green eyes. “Can we talk?”

Lips part to respond but nothing comes out. You offer a small nod instead.

You swear relief flashes across his face as he lets out a breath. The hand wrapped around your bicep drops back to his side, and he tips his head in a direction away from the motel building. You fight the nagling feeling of disappointment that creeps through you at the loss of his warm touch and silently follow him across the small parking lot towards Baby.

You lean up against the side of the Impala and trace a finger around the edge of the cold can in your hands. Lifting the tab, a loud hiss and crack fills the silence. The cool liquid is an explosion of sweet, crisp and bubbly against your tongue as you take a sip.

Your gaze lifts to meet his as Dean steps closer into your space, struggling to find the words he wants to say. The large blue and red neon motel sign buzzes in the background behind him.

“Listen, I… I just wanted to say-” His mouth snaps closed and his jawline tightens. Eyes avert to the gravel at your feet and a large hand racks roughly through his hair. He groans at his inability to form a coherent sentence. This is clearly uncomfortable for him to get out. It can't be easy turning down someone you have to spend the next 13 hours in a car with. You bite at your bottom lip as your fingers thrum along the side of the soda can before speaking.

“Look, Dean. You don’t have to say anything- I get it.” His eyes flit to your face. An apprehensive hope clouds them, perhaps wishing the two of you are in fact on the same page. A mistake between friends. A dreadfully embarrassing conversation you want to be over with. You work to keep your tone leveled and unattached, “What happened earlier didn’t mean anything.”

The crumpled expression his features unexpectedly contort into is a swift punch to the gut. Why does he have to look like that? He is the one rejecting you, again. Trying to let you down easy. Not the other way around.

“It didn’t mean anything to you?”

You swallow thickly and shift weight from one foot to the other. Eyes remain fixed on the aluminum can your fingers encircle, unable to meet his gaze. “Does it even matter?” voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t make the effort to brush back the hair that’s fallen forward into your face, welcoming the opportunity to hide behind the curtain of locks, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than ever. 

Dean steps further into your space, gently smoothing the fallen hair behind your ear then braces his hands against the roof of the Impala on either side of your head. Caging you in between Baby and his large frame. Heat rolls off him in waves and his proximity causes your head to spin. The soda can, merely an afterthought, is dropped to the ground. The liquid splashes and fizzes around your feet. Neither of you pay the fallen can any mind.

Dean leans in close, warm breath fanning across your cheek. “It matters.” The low timbre of his voice sends a shiver straight down your spine and recharges those butterflies back to life deep in the pit of your stomach. His forehead falls against yours and noses brush. “It meant something to me.”

You blink once, twice, in shock at his admittance.

Honest spoken words hang between you briefly before pushing up on your toes, emboldened, and pressing your lips to his, kissing him earnestly. One of his arms drops to your back to pull you closer, the other cradling the base of your skull, shifting the angle to kiss you more deeply.

Laughing in the distance cuts through the fog and you break apart, spell broken. Exhaling shakily, your eyes dart over to the source of interruption. A young, giddy couple across the parking lot nearly falling over one another to rush into their rented motel room. Heavy boots scuffing against gravel pulls your attention back to Dean who is still hovering close in your space. He casts a cursory glance over a shoulder at the couple before his dark gaze settles back on you.

“Baby?” His voice a low gruff as he tips his head toward the car you are currently pressed up against.

You nod wordlessly, following after him as he opens the door to the back seat. Dean slides across the smooth leather, not leaving much room for you to climb in next to him. The corner of his lip curls into an impish smirk, green eyes sparkling.

“C’mere.” You take his hand and allow him to pull you into the spacious backseat, situating you easily astride his lap.

You tentatively drag a thumb along his jawline, the stubble there at least a day old. Dean’s heated gaze lures you in like a moth inevitably drawn to a lamp as you lean forward to press your lips to his once more in a searing kiss. His tongue is soft in your mouth, stroking and tasting. He swallows down your moans. 

Fingers deftly push his jacket and flannel off simultaneously and trail down to the hem of the black t-shirt snuggly fitted to his chest. You want more, want to see and feel him. Tanned muscles roll as he raises his arms, allowing you to lift the t-shirt up and over his head.

Fingertips ghost over heated skin, tracing along puckered scars, the outline of his tattoo. Eyes greedily drink in his toned chest until a hand threads into your hair and slowly pulls you close. Lips drag against yours, softly at first, then with a devouring intensity that has your core aching and your pulse racing out of control. 

Many nights have been spent in lonely darkness, wishing, hoping for a chance like this to come along. It’s surreal. Your mind reels as it tries to catch up with the rest of your body - your body that is currently astride a bare chested Dean Winshester. 

Lips meet again, slowly and thoroughly; exploring and tasting. Large hands curl around your hips, anchoring you to this moment; to him.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs. “So many times.” Calloused thumbs dip beneath the edge of your shirt and ghost back and forth across your skin.

Eyelids heavy with desire flutter close as you breathe, “You have?”

Fingers smoothe up the nape of his neck and scratch gently against his scalp, eliciting from him a low groan as your forehead rests against his. “God, sweetheart, so many times,” he grinds out.

The warmth of his rough hands cause gooseflesh to rise in their wake as they inch their way up higher and higher. A shudder trickles down your spine and you pull him close for another dizzying kiss. His lips eagerly meet yours, tongue plundering your mouth. Hips rock against his, desperate to relieve the growing ache between your legs. A hiss of air rushes past Dean’s teeth, breaking your kiss, his hands dropping to grip tightly at your hips. Helping in guiding your movements, adding pressure to that delicious friction you both crave.

The cool evening air has turned warm and thick within the confinements of the Impala. Suddenly overheated, you peel off your jacket and tug the t-shirt up over your head in haste, leaving your top-half in a lacey bralette. Dean’s eyes nearly dilate to the size of dimes and the muscles in his jaw tighten at the barely there garment cladding your chest.

Large hands lift to fondle and knead your breasts without hesitation, thumbs brushing teasingly against your hardened nipples. A soft whimper tumbles past your lips, and your hips work to shamelessly grind your dampening core against the straining bulge trapped beneath the denim of Dean’s jeans. The mangled groan caught in the back of his throat short circuits your system.

His emerald eyes glisten in the soft glow of the red and blue hues from the neon sign outside. You rest a hand against the scratchy stubble along his slack jaw, thumb dragging over his lips. He presses a kiss against the pad, gaze never leaving yours. You can’t help but think how beautiful he looks like this. 

You drop a hand down to the worn buckle clasp to work him free of his jeans. You can’t imagine he’s very comfortable in the tight confinement of denim. Dean grunts softly as he catches your wrist and shakes his head. 

“This is about you, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your knuckles as he raises your hand to his lips. A moment later his hands are gripping your backside and grinding you down against him as if to emphasize his words. A pleased grin stretches across his lips as your head falls back with a strangled moan.

Dean dips forward to press a trail of wet kisses up the valley of your breasts and across your collarbone. He buries a hand in your hair and tugs on the strands to expose your neck. He places open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, sucking and biting gently. 

“Fucking gorgeous…” he murmurs against your tender skin.

Arousal curls and flares in the pit of your stomach, fanning out to your limbs. Every neuron in your body is aching for his touch to relieve the building pressure. 

The lingering hints of whiskey entangling with his natural scent is intoxicating, and you fail to stifle the groan that slips out. “Dean.” 

“Wanna see you come, sweetheart,” he urges hoarsely. “Please.”

Slipping a hand below the elastic waistband of your leggings, his thumb quickly seeks out your sensitive, swollen clit drawing from you a string of breathless gasps. His touch is just a hair on the rougher side than you usually prefer, but it’s exactly what you need at this moment. A fire licks through your veins and your skin pricks with gooseflesh as the pressure builds and builds. The tension and desperation in the cab of the Impala palpable. 

Without warning your orgasm crests.

A white hot pleasure washes through you in waves, Dean’s name singed on your tongue.

His hips jerk upward as the rest of his body tenses. Witnessing the peak of your pleasure inevitably dragging him under to meet his own. Your name falls from his lips in a low mangled groan. He forces his eyes to remain open, unwilling to miss a single moment of euphoric bliss painted across your features.

Dean smooths back stray hairs that have stuck to your forehead, dewy with perspiration. Glazed green eyes rove over your disheveled form with unyielding adoration. As if you are the sun itself and he’s rediscovering light and warmth for the first time after years of banishment in cool darkness.

You drop your head into the crook of his neck, unused to being looked upon with such intensity. Instead, you focus on the weight of strong arms wrapped around you - warm and safe - as you gather your senses and steady your breathing. Body still pulsing with echoes of pleasure. Limbs blissfully heavy and relaxed. Dean lazily strokes your back as you sit in a contented silence. 

A few moments pass before an undeniable grumble disrupts the quiet. Dean quirks a brow, lips curling in amusement. Cheeks flush warm as you cast a bashful glance down at your exposed tummy. It rumbles again, a clear reminder that you missed both lunch and dinner.

“I guess I shouldn’t have passed on dinner earlier,” your voice soft with a sudden shyness.

Dean’s low chuckle spreads warmth within you and he catches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. He gently raises your gaze to meet his. The smile on his lips is cause for your heart to stutter. He pulls you close and gingerly presses a lingering kiss to your lips. And then another. He shifts his hand to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing absently along your cheekbone.

“Well, then let’s get some food in ya. There’s a 24-hour diner up the road. Can get a couple burgers.” He drops a sheepish gaze down towards his crotch. “Just gotta run inside to change real quick.”

Lips curve into a small smile and softly nod. The sound of burgers had your stomach rumbling again with an eagerness at the delightful prospect of food. But as much as your body wanted sustenance, it ached for Dean more.

What if this is your only chance to have him? What happens when the inexplicable magic interwoven in the late night air dissipates and the soft glow of neon lights fades as the sun slowly rises and morning comes? Will he still want you then?

Dean’s brows knit together, undoubtedly detecting your hesitance. “Hey… what’s wrong?” The low timbre of his voice wraps around you, gentle and soothing. 

You lean into his touch as your eyes fall shut. “I just… don’t want this to end.”

Concern melts from his features as understanding dons. He shifts beneath you to pull you impossibly closer. “This ain’t ending, sweetheart.” A knowing smile plays on his lips and you have the sudden urge to kiss them again. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” His free hand smooths across your upper thigh and gently squeezes. “‘Gonna finish this properly, in a bed, once we get back to the bunker.”

Your stomach clenches at the insinuation of him properly finishing what you started tonight, and your heart lurches with a renewed hope that this wasn’t a temporary thing.

You nuzzle closer, lips brushing against his. “Promise?”

A slow smile eases across his face and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Promise.”

[cocobutnochanel]

The Kims | 18+

Genre: smut, angst, drama, au

Main Characters: Kim Minseok, Kim Junmyeon, Kim Jongin x Reader (oc: female)

Warnings: profanity, sex scenes, aggression, mature themes, slavery(not literally idk)

Summary: When you thought life wasn't a fairytale and you were no Cinderella, truth slaps you in the face when you become an orphan overnight and your step-family sells you off to the richest family in town.

Kink List: verbal degradation, size difference, exhibitionism, blowjob, gagging, mention of tears, spanking, overstimulating, daddy!Junmyeon

Part 3

(Part 1, Part 2)

The following days were boring once again. The Kims were busy, as per usual. Their money wasn’t made by staying at home and laying around. You really had no idea what their family’s business was into but it was safer that way. Baekhyun always said that the less you know, the better.

You sniffed the air and immediately guessed it was cookies. You ran to the kitchen where Kyungsoo was mixing the ingredients while the oven beside him was releasing a very distinct smell.

“That smells so good!” You inhale once more, catching Kyungsoo’s attention. He beckoned you to come nearer. “Help me with this, will you?” He pointed to the bowl.

“Sure.” You smiled at him and skipped to his side. You look at the dough he was mixing. “You should really add more chocolate chips.” You advise to the older guy.

He looked at you with thinking eyes. “Won’t it be too sweet then?” He asked, still holding the whisk in his hand. He contemplated for a moment but followed your advice nonetheless.

You smile when you see him pouring half a cup of chocolate chips onto the mixture. Kyungsoo was good with food but he liked his food not that sweet. He always needed yours or Baekhyun’s opinion.

After mixing, he jokingly puts some of the mixture on a tiny teaspoon. “Try it.” He jokes but you open your mouth and go for the mixture.

You let your tastebuds examine it before your eyes light up at the satisfactory taste. “That’s it! You got it, Kyungsoo-oppa!” You exclaim a little too loud. Kyungsoo grinned at how you gushed over the tiniest things.

“You really are a child.” He pinched your nose and ruffled your hair. “Yah, oppa! Don’t do that!” You glared at him jokingly which made him laugh even more.

You hear someone clear their throat. You quickly turn around and see Junmyeon walking inside the kitchen.

“Young master, we weren’t expecting you. How can we help you?” Kyungsoo immediately greeted him, saving you and your flustered self. You bow your head towards Junmyeon as a late greeting. You silently hope he won’t give you shit because of this.

“I just went to check since I heard some voices.” He nodded at Kyungsoo, making the tension in the air even thicker. Baekhyun appears by the open door behind Junmyeon and his eyes widen at the site of our boss in the kitchen.

Quietly, Junmyeon turned around and walked out of the kitchen. He whispered something to Baekhyun’s ear and proceeded to walk away. You sighed after the nerve-wracking scene finally ended. Junmyeon might look gentle and soft but he is no exception to the danger all the Kims have.

“You okay, Y/N?” Kyungsoo’s worried voice made you look at him. “I’m fine, oppa. Still not used to them, I guess.” Your voice was weak and faint. You shook your head, trying to get the nervousness out of your system.

Baekhyun entered the kitchen with a worried face and you look at him questioningly. His gaze shifted to Kyungsoo and back to you. This time, he even looked more worried.

“Spill it, Baek.” You say to him confidently despite your heart beating against your chest.

“Kyungsoo, Junmyeon said to bring Y/N to the study now.” Baekhyun looked away as if that would erase the worry on his face. You were confused as to why Junmyeon would say that to Baek. He could’ve told us directly or sent me after him but he didn’t. He had to order Baekhyun and now this overthinking man was all over the place.

“It’s okay, Baek. He’s probably just pissed we’re noisy.” You try to reassure him but your voice audibly shook. “We’re fine, Baekhyun.” Kyungsoo walked to Baek’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Kyungsoo beckoned you to follow him out of the kitchen. He took his apron off by the counter and started walking down the hallways of the mansion.

You sigh once again and Kyungsoo turns around for a moment. You mouth an ‘I’m fine’ to him. He walked continuously until we reached the study’s door.

Kyungsoo cautiously knocked and announced your arrival. “Bring her in.” You hear Junmyeon’s muffled voice through the door. Kyungsoo turned the doorknob and pushed the wooden door open carefully. He gave you one last glance until he gestured he would leave.

“No, Kyungsoo stay.” Junmyeon’s voice was eerily calm, it scared the living shit out of you. He was even calmer than he was when they first welcomed you. You have no idea if this was a good or bad sign.

Kyungsoo simply nodded at the boss’s order and stood by the door with an expressionless face.

You see Junmyeon smirk a little as he looked at you while signing papers on his desk. You tried to look at Kyungsoo for help but he avoided your gaze. He didn’t want any trouble with the bosses.

“Strip, Y/N.” You hear Junmyeon say this so normally, his eyes still on the pile of papers in front of him. “E-Excuse me?” You tried to ask while looking at Kyungsoo for help. “I said strip. Are you hearing impaired?” He looked at you incredulously.

You gulped at his request but nonetheless, your hands went to the hem of the dress you were wearing. Kyungsoo tried to get a hold of the doorknob but Junmyeon spoke again.

“I said stay, Kyungsoo. Are you all deaf or dumb?” Junmyeon looked at him angrily. Kyungsoo immediately retreated to where he stood earlier.

He wanted you to strip in front of Kyungsoo? What was the point of all of this?

“Strip, you fucking whore. Stop playing dumb.” This was the first time you heard Junmyeon curse and honestly, it shocked you. You only shook your head and unzipped the back of your dress.

Your dress fell to the floor as you look at Kyungsoo who had his eyes stay glued on the floor. To be in this state with Kyungsoo present made you want to run and cry, you consider him a friend and an older brother after all. Your heartbeat now doubled as you stood in the middle of the room in your underwear alone.

You hesitated to do it but you couldn’t afford Junmyeon to get angrier. Your hands unhooked your bra from behind. You took it off so slowly, it was excruciating to watch. Your fingers hooked the ends of your lace panties and you took it off afterwards too.

Junmyeon looked up from his desk, a satisfied glint in his eyes as soon as he saw you naked. You close your eyes. You were naked in front of Kyungsoo. You wanted to run and hide. He was a friend for you, how could he stomach this image of you?

Junmyeon stood up, snatching your attention away from Kyungsoo. He walked to you and you bit your lip nervously. His hand reached for your cheek as you closed your eyes in anticipation of what was about to happen. It was shame, fear and anxiety all at the same time.

“Kneel.” Junmyeon ordered you as he shifted you to a position that your side profile was more visible to Kyungsoo. You followed Junmyeon’s command and kneel in front of him.

When your knees touched the velvet floor, it felt like you lost all your dignity as a human being. You were a slave to this man and if he said you should eat dog shit, you would. He was your god, after all.

Junmyeon unzipped his pants and pushed it lower, allowing his 9-inch penis spring to life. You gulped at the sight of his masculinity and you couldn’t help but gasp when it almost touched your face.

He looked at Kyungsoo who was standing by the door, eyes still on the floor. “Kyungsoo, watch us.” Junmyeon said with so much amusement in his voice. You refused to look at Kyungsoo when he said this. You knew Kyungsoo would obey him.

“Suck on it like the whore that you are.” Junmyeon smirked and held you by your hair. You wince a little at his harsh hold but then, you knew you should follow him.

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat and held the erect member. You opened your mouth and started to suck on the head. “Fuck.” Junmyeon audibly groaned when you let your tongue flick on his tip.

“More.” He pushed your head towards his cock more and you could feel it against your tonsils. Tears started to form in your eyes and you started to choke. You didn’t know if it was the huge penis in your mouth or the shame that you were feeling as you felt Kyungsoo’s gaze get heavier as he watched you and Junmyeon.

Tears streamed down your face but Junmyeon couldn’t care less. The choking and gasping noises you made just drove him crazier and harsher. He kept pushing you towards his cock, making you take it in as a whole every single time. Your head bobbed as more tears came. You didn’t know how something as degrading as this made you want it even more.

Junmyeon let go of your head as he threw his head back. You sucked his cock to your own accord now. You didn’t know how or when but this brought the same funny feeling you had with Minseok and Jongin.

You hold his cock as you divert your attention now to his balls. You caress them with your tongue while your hand pumped his member. “Fuck, Y/N. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The curses Junmyeon spat made you want to work for it more. He was such a formal and professional person, you found out he only cursed like this whenever he was aroused.

You went back to his large cock and let your tongue flick its tip. You taste the salty precum and assume this was a compliment from Junmyeon. You took it in as a whole and he finally released his salty and bitter juice inside your mouth.

Before you could swallow his cum, Junmyeon held your jaw and made you open your mouth. Seeing his cum on your tongue made his cock twitch and his lips smirk. “Good girl.” He praised you and you felt the tingling sensation in your femininity heighten.

“Sit.” He pushes you onto the floor. You obey him and he makes you turn, facing Kyungsoo. You see his emotionless face as he stood there idly. You turn red in embarrassment as the thought of Kyungsoo seeing you suck your boss’s dick sink in.

Junmyeon pulled your left leg forcefully, making you widen the space between them. You cringed at the sight of your wet pussy that was facing Kyungsoo. His eyes widened at the sight and Junmyeon chuckled at that.

“Won’t you look at that? You’re wet and I haven’t even touched you.” Junmyeon growled, holding your legs apart from behind. You turn away in shame but Junmyeon uses his other hand to hold your jaw in place. He wanted Kyungsoo to see you like this.

“You still think this whore is a child, Kyungsoo?” He sarcastically laughed. Kyungsoo only shut his eyes. “No, Kyungsoo, watch. Watch this child turn into my whore.” He bellowed, his hand reaching for your pussy.

You felt his middle finger flick your clit and you whimper. He starts teasing you down there while he stared at Kyungsoo’s face. He was taunting him, showing him who you truly belonged to. You belonged to the Kims as their plaything.

He pinched your clit, making you scream. Your hands went to Junmyeon’s shoulders that were behind you. Your thighs trembled and you feel yourself reach your own peak. You clutched his shoulders as you felt your release. You close your eyes shut because you knew you were gonna squirt and Kyungsoo was about to see that too.

You opened your eyes and looked at Junmyeon’s satisfied face but stubbornly, he went on. He kept teasing your clit even if you already came. His gaze on Kyungsoo was smug and confident.

He puts a whole finger inside you so suddenly, making you jump in surprise. You bit your lip when you felt him entering and exiting your pussy so easily. You were that wet for him. For his touch.

His other hand that were holding your thighs apart travelled to your boob. The warmth of his palm against your cold breast makes you moan. “M-Master.” You manage to make out as you get wetter and wetter.

His finger started grazing your nipple as soon as he heard you begging. Jongin must’ve told him your nipples were your greatest weakpoint. You feel another release coming your way.

You cried as you reach for his shoulders for support again. You felt something gush out of you once again. You feel Junmyeon’s smirk against your bare shoulder.

You thought he was satisfied already but he kept going on. You were turning crazy now as he wanted you to come again. The finger that was entering your pussy was now below you as you rode it yourself. His hand was no longer moving. You pounded on his finger like the whore that he called you.

“Look at that, Kyungsoo.” He smugly bragged, gesturing to you who were now going crazy for his touch. He removed his hand from below you.

You were disappointed but he quickly crawled to your other side, his face now in your pussy. He was placing soft kisses on the inside of your thigh. He lets his tongue run down your vagina and you feel yourself tremble once again.

“I know that face.” Junmyeon declares as he sees you squirm. He beckoned Kyungsoo to come nearer. You hid your face in your palms immediately, blocking your sight as quickly as you could. You feel Junmyeon’s warm palm hit your pussy and that was enough to send you over the edge again.

You feel another wave of release coming. Tears once again came back to your face as you squirted for the third time today.

You fluttered your eyes open and you wanted to hide immediately. Horror entered your system. You see Kyungsoo’s face in between your legs. His cheeks were wet from your juice while Junmyeon stood behind him, smirking.

“See, she’s a bad girl, Kyungsoo. A slut, even.” Junmyeon licked his lips, an amused glint in his eyes. Shame was an understatement for how you were feeling right now. He was my oppa. He wasn’t supposed to see this, what more feel it on his face?

Junmyeon pushed Kyungsoo away from you. He replaced Kyungsoo’s position, his member still erect.

He enters you without any difficulty. You were so wet, his dick easily slid in and out of you. He rocked you as you laid limp on the floor.

He was grunting as he thrusted every time, hitting your G-spot. He pulled out immediately, letting his cum land on your bare stomach. You come one last time and this earns you a chuckle from Junmyeon.

You sighed when it was finally done. “You can go now, Kyungsoo.” Junmyeon smirked as he stood. Kyungsoo immediately raced out of the study. He must’ve been traumatized and that made you guilty.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Junmyeon formally said, pulling his pants up. He was back to himself after that final release. His pent up frustration might have been the reason why he switches personality when aroused.

You stood up too. You picked your clothes up from the floor and wore it back. Junmyeon nonchalantly returned to his desk and continued with his paperworks.

You were about to exit but Junmyeon spoke once again, his eyes still concentrating on the paper on his desk.

“Lesson for today, Y/N: Never make me jealous. I hate hearing you squeal and call someone else oppa.”

[otonymous]

(Otonymous’ Follower Milestone Celebration): Obedience - Lucien’s Instructions (NSFW)

Rating: VERY NSFW Warnings: PLEASE NOTE! - Exhibitionism, implied voyeurism, temperature play, masturbation, extremely slight D/s and humiliation undertones, edging, oral sex

Be sure to follow Lucien’s instructions exactly, or else look forward to the consequences.  See for yourself AFTER THE CUT!

Transcript:

Enter the lobby.  Take three deep breaths.  Approach the front desk and request the key to room 1106.  They won’t question you.  They’re used to being discreet.

Take the leftmost elevator up.  Stand in the right hand corner, at the very back - directly in view of the security camera mounted at the top.  Wait until you’re alone.  Then when you are, look directly into the camera.  Touch yourself.

Bring your hand to your lips; trace their perfect outline with the tip of your finger.  Make sure your nails are painted with the polish I sent you.  Open your mouth and suck on your index, pushing in and pulling out, slowly.  Do that three times for me.

Slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders.  First the left, then the right.  Pull down the top.  You don’t need to be told that you shouldn’t be wearing a bra.  Touch your breasts.  Feel how soft they are, how it feels in the squeeze of your palms.  Wet your nipple with your finger.  Make it glisten with your saliva.

Keep looking up at the camera.  Smile.  Show them how pretty my little butterfly is.  Let them know that you like to put on a show, that there’s nothing you love more than an audience — that despite how you look on the outside, so prim and proper, nothing gets you wetter than being watched.  Imagine your hands are my own.  Pinch your nipples.  Hard.  Enough to make you moan.

When you enter the suite, leave the door ajar, just the tiniest bit.  No one should be able to see you from the hallway, but they will hear you.  The flowers will already be there, as should the bucket of ice and champagne.  Go ahead and smell the roses.  Feel how soft the petals are — against the tips of your fingers, the apple of your cheek, your collarbones...cleavage.

Pour yourself a glass of champagne and sit back on the bed.  Drink and relax.  Let the bubbles tickle the tip of your tongue, the back of your throat.  Then, when your cheeks are sufficiently warm, make your way to the tripod and turn the camera on.

Pay close attention.  This time, I don’t want you to look at the camera.  Focus instead on the mirror behind it.  Let your gaze travel over every curve.  Take your time.  Study them, from head to toe.  This is a lesson on how beautiful you really are.

Let down your hair.  Shake it out.  Feel how the strands fall against your neck and shoulders like the finest silk.  You have the loveliest hair; I never tire of running my hands through it, especially when you beg me to pull it hard.  Did that make you blush, my love?  Look in the mirror and find out.  Has that pink flush spread all the way down to your chest yet?  If the answer is no, then we have a lot more work ahead of us.

Unzip your dress.  Peel it off your body.  Slowly.  Be patient, butterfly.  Love making should never be rushed, whether it’s with me or by yourself.  Let the dress fall to the floor, pool around your stilettos.  I should hope you’re wearing the ones I like - the pair that lets you tip-toe up to press your lips to the pulse on my neck with ease.

Did it embarrass you to walk around in public with no bra or panties on?  I’m sorry, my little fool, but you know I couldn’t have it any other way, not when you look so bewitching in just a garter belt and stockings.  Don’t believe me?  Take a look: the proof is right before your eyes.  Remove your shoes if you wish, but be a good girl and keep the rest on.

Because you are a good girl, aren’t you?  So very good at pleasing me in the ways I like best.  Like how you work your tongue so well when you try to take all of me into your mouth, not caring about what a mess you’re making of your face with all that saliva dripping down your chin.  And then you look up at me, all wide-eyed and innocent; it’s downright indecent.  But that’s okay.  Because I like bad girls too, especially the ones that sneak into my office to hide under my desk, so impatient that her hands are already tugging at my belt even as I’m trying to sit down.

And since you’ve been such a good girl, let me let you in on a little secret: I love it when you’re desperate for me.

So you know what comes next.  Take an ice cube from the bucket.  Close your eyes and press it to your lips.  Feel it start to melt under the heat of your breath.  Drag it down your neck as you follow its liquid trail.  Trace it along your collarbones, from one shoulder to the other.  Surrender to the shivers that make the soft hairs of your body stand on end, dotting your precious skin with goosebumps.

I want you to lie back and spread your legs.  Wide.  I already know what we’ll discover there: beautiful flesh - pink, swollen, glistening.  Your body has always been so sensitive, so responsive.  It’s absolutely addicting.  Tease yourself for me, love; run the ice cube over your nipples until they pucker, as if I’d been sucking hard on them myself.  Then, I want you to slide it slowly down the rest of your body.  Look into the camera and tell me how it feels, having the run-off trickling cool over your folds, tickling your clit.

Bring a hand to your pussy.  Caress your slit.  I want you to slip one finger in, then two.  Feel how hot it is inside your body, especially after the cool touch of the ice.  How slick it is.  Moan if you have to.  Don’t hold anything in, not even the slightest gasp.  You’re at your most beautiful when you are free.

And now, my butterfly, the ultimate test: under no circumstances are you to come by your own hand.  Bring yourself to the edge as many times as you want, but know there will be a punishment for pushing yourself over it.  I want you to be a good girl…a patient one…

And wait for me.

L.

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