#and this feels like a really dumb thing to push me over the edge but it's been... A Lot recently... ya know?

[muttley-do-something]

i may or may not be having an actual break down because my fav arcade game is going out of service soon 🥺

[pucksandpower]

Perfect Fit

Day 5 → Size Difference 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

“You sure she doesn’t snap in half when you’re together?” Lando’s voice rings out over the steady hum of the paddock, casual, like he’s asking about the weather.

Oscar’s head jerks up, his eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

“You know …” Lando gestures vaguely with his hand, as if the meaning will somehow fill the air between them. “You and her. She’s, like, tiny. Can’t imagine it’s easy for you.”

Oscar frowns, confused for a second before the meaning of Lando’s words sinks in. Lando is grinning like he’s delivered the world’s best punchline, but something twists in Oscar’s chest. The words linger. Too long.

“Mate, seriously?” Oscar scoffs, trying to laugh it off, but there’s an odd tension in his voice. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

Lando shrugs, all casual, like he hasn’t just dropped a grenade between them. “Just making conversation. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Oscar doesn’t respond, choosing instead to shove Lando lightly in the shoulder, pushing past him. His heart beats a little too fast, and he finds himself suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of Lando’s comment.

He tries to shake it off, but the thought is like an itch at the back of his mind, one he can’t quite reach to scratch. Size. How could he have never noticed it before? Of course, he knew you were smaller — he had to lean down to kiss you, had to watch his step to not bowl you over in tight spaces. But he’d never really thought about it. Not like that.

Now, though … now he can’t seem to stop thinking about it.

Later that evening, he’s at your apartment. You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through some magazine, while he stands in the kitchen, mindlessly sipping from a water bottle. His eyes keep drifting over to you, studying the way you’re curled up. Small, Lando’s words repeat in his head. So much smaller.

You glance up and catch him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly. You squint, unconvinced.

“Oscar,” you say, drawing out his name like you’re prying for a confession. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he repeats, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him.

You set the magazine down, leaning back against the cushions. “You’re staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

Oscar clears his throat, still not moving from his spot by the counter. “It’s not — I mean, Lando said something stupid earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lando always says stupid things.”

He chuckles, but the sound is half-hearted. “Yeah, but this was, like, extra stupid.”

“What’d he say?”

Oscar hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s dumb, really.”

“Now you have to tell me,” you say, tilting your head, that teasing smile starting to curl at your lips. You always get that look when you know he’s holding something back, and he knows you won’t let it go until he spills.

He sighs, finally pushing away from the counter and walking over to sit beside you on the couch. “It’s just … he made some joke about, uh … about our size difference.”

Your brows furrow. “What about it?”

Oscar pauses, trying to find the right words. “He basically said … I don’t know. That it must be … hard. You know, because you’re, uh, smaller than me.”

Your lips press together, a faint blush creeping up your neck as the meaning hits. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Oscar lets out a breath, rubbing his palms over his jeans. “I didn’t think much of it at first, but now I can’t stop … noticing it.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, the kind that feels heavier than usual.

You swallow, shifting a little on the couch to face him. “Is it weird for you?” You ask quietly. “Our size difference?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No — no, it’s not weird. It’s not like that. I’ve just … I never really thought about it before. And now it’s in my head.”

“So it’s in your head that I’m small?” You ask, a teasing edge to your voice, though there’s a hint of nervousness underneath it.

He laughs softly. “It’s not just that you’re small. It’s … everything. Like, I never thought about how I have to be careful with you. When I hold you, or when we’re … close.”

You tilt your head, curious. “You don’t think about it when we’re close?”

“I mean, I think about it,” he admits, his voice dropping. “But not in a bad way. I just-” He falters, searching for the right words. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his honesty, the vulnerability that’s starting to seep through the cracks. You reach out, placing a hand on his knee. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Oscar.”

“I know that,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “But I guess … sometimes I just worry that I might. Without meaning to.”

The air feels thick between you, charged with something unsaid. You chew on your bottom lip, considering his words, the way he’s looking at you now — like he’s seeing you in a new light, or maybe just realizing something that’s been there all along.

“I don’t mind that we’re different sizes,” you say quietly, and your voice is sincere, even if there’s an underlying nervousness. “I actually … I like it.”

Oscar’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, your hand still resting on his knee. “I like that you’re taller, and that you can hold me, and that I feel … safe with you.”

Something shifts in Oscar’s expression. It’s subtle, but you see the way his shoulders relax, the tension that’s been building all evening starting to fade away. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You feel safe with me?”

“Of course I do,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper now. “You’re … I don’t know. You’re so careful with me. I can feel it when we’re together.”

Oscar’s hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “I just … I don’t want to screw this up,” he admits, his voice raw. “I care about you too much to mess this up.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. “You’re not messing anything up, Oscar. You’re being … you.”

He leans in closer, his forehead almost resting against yours. “I don’t want to be weird about this,” he says softly. “But after Lando’s stupid comment, it’s like … it’s stuck in my head. And now I’m overthinking everything.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re overthinking it because Lando’s an idiot.”

Oscar laughs too, the sound breaking the tension a little. “Yeah, he really is.”

You shift a little closer to him, your knees brushing against his. “You don’t need to worry about our size difference,” you say gently. “I don’t.”

He nods, though there’s still a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “It’s just … I’ve never been with someone who’s, like … so much smaller than me. I don’t want to … I don’t know, hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you assure him, your voice steady. “I trust you, Oscar. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t.”

Oscar’s eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to find some reassurance in your words, something to silence the doubts that Lando’s careless joke planted in his mind. Slowly, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away — the worries, the overthinking, the stupid comments.

It’s just the two of you, and in that kiss, there’s no size difference, no hesitation. Just you and him, connected in a way that feels effortless.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath, warm and steady. “You’re sure?” He whispers, his voice laced with vulnerability.

You smile, your hand finding his. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Oscar lets out a breath, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

The tension between you melts away, replaced by a quiet understanding, a mutual trust that wasn’t spoken but was felt in every word, every touch. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, as if to prove to himself that he can hold you without worry.

And for the first time since Lando’s stupid joke, Oscar doesn’t think about the size difference. He just thinks about you, and how perfectly you fit in his arms.

***

As you and Oscar walk through the doors of your hotel suite, the adrenaline from the day still buzzes between you both. The aftermath of the Hungarian Grand Prix win feels almost surreal, hanging in the air between his excited glances and your proud smiles.

Oscar drops his race gear bag on the floor, exhaling loudly as he runs a hand through his messy hair. “God, I still can’t believe it. I actually won.”

You grin, closing the door behind you. “I told you, didn’t I? You’ve been ready for this. You’ve always been ready.”

He turns toward you, his face lighting up in a way that makes your heart skip. He looks different tonight — his usual quiet confidence magnified by the thrill of victory. There’s a hunger in his gaze, something deeper than just excitement for the race.

“It feels … different now,” he admits, stepping closer. “Like, I knew I could win, but doing it? Crossing that line first? Hearing the crowd?” He trails off, his eyes locking on yours, and for a moment, everything else in the world disappears.

You step closer, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “You were incredible out there.”

Oscar’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. His voice drops lower, more intimate. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the race, I just wanted to get back here. With you.”

You bite your lip, the tension between you sparking to life. There’s something in the air tonight, something that feels inevitable. The closeness, the energy — it’s all leading somewhere.

Oscar’s lips hover just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I need you,” he whispers, the rawness of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Your response is immediate, instinctual. “Then take me.”

His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and heated, and suddenly, all the restraint he’s ever shown around you evaporates. His hands are everywhere — on your waist, in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can’t stand the space between you. You’re breathless as he backs you up toward the bed, his kisses growing more fervent, more desperate.

When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, Oscar pulls away just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something deeper than you’ve seen before. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice thick with both desire and hesitation. “I don’t want to rush this.”

You’re already reaching for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The sight of his bare chest, muscles taut and glistening under the dim hotel lights, makes your stomach flip. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but tonight it feels different. He’s yours tonight.

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing over your hips, lifting your shirt just enough to slide his hands underneath.

You shiver at the contact, leaning into him as he slowly works your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. His hands linger on your skin, tracing patterns that leave your skin tingling.

As his fingers move to unbutton your jeans, Oscar hesitates for a second. “I don’t want to … hurt you,” he says softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

You shake your head, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. “You won’t. I trust you.”

That seems to be all the encouragement he needs. Oscar quickly strips you of your jeans, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, his gaze fixed on you like you’re the most important thing in the world. And then, for a moment, he pauses.

His eyes drop lower, and when he sees you in nothing but your underwear, something primal flashes across his face. You can see the shift in him — the boyish uncertainty replaced by something darker, more insistent.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. His hands tremble slightly as he runs them over your hips, then slowly slides your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare, exposed for him, seems to steal his breath.

You reach out, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his jeans. “Your turn,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Oscar quickly complies, undoing his belt and pushing his jeans down. But when he finally kicks them off, and his boxers follow, you feel your breath catch in your throat. He’s … big. Much bigger than you expected. The sight of him has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding through you.

His size suddenly makes Lando’s stupid joke replay in your head, but instead of fear, you feel a strange sense of anticipation building inside you. The sight of him, hard and ready, only makes you want him more.

But Oscar hesitates, his eyes darting between you and himself, concern flickering in his expression. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, his voice more serious now. “You’re so … small.”

Your lips part, a flush creeping up your neck. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the truth slips out before you can stop it. “I can take it,” you whisper, your voice shaking with need. “I want it.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he seems at a loss for words. His hands shake slightly as they slide up your thighs, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs. He takes his time, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says softly, his eyes locked on yours as he eases a finger inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing for a moment before you relax into his touch. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, your voice breathless. “Please, Oscar. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He adds another finger, his movements slow and steady as he works you open, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe beneath him. Your body arches off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as you try to hold on to the edge of your sanity.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his brows furrowing in concentration. “I need to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you breathe, though your voice is shaky with both nerves and desire.

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he continues to stretch you with his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats, his voice a mix of concern and restraint.

You bite your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. “I know. But I want you, Oscar. I want all of you.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, he pauses, as if weighing the gravity of what’s about to happen. But then he nods, his eyes locking on yours as he finally positions himself between your legs. His hands grip your hips, his touch firm but gentle.

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

Oscar takes a deep breath, and then, slowly — agonizingly slowly — he begins to push inside you. The stretch is immediate, and your body tenses as you feel the overwhelming pressure of him filling you. It’s more than you expected — more than you’ve ever felt before. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, and for a moment, you wonder if it’s too much.

Oscar freezes, his eyes wide with concern. “Am I hurting you?”

You shake your head quickly, though your breath is shaky. “It’s just … a lot. But I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

He bites his lip, clearly unsure, but he keeps going, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. The sensation is intense — painful at first, but as your body adjusts, the pain quickly morphs into something else. Something deeper. Something euphoric.

Oscar is still, hovering above you, his chest heaving as he struggles to keep himself in check. “God, you’re … you’re so tight,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I can feel … I can see it …”

You look down, and your breath catches in your throat. You can see the outline of him, pressing against your lower stomach, and the sight is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Oscar’s eyes are glued to the sight as well, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “Holy … I can see myself inside you,” he breathes, his voice thick with awe. “I’m not hurting you?”

You shake your head, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and disbelief. “No. It feels … it feels incredible.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes darkening as he slowly pulls back, only to push into you again, the movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and controlled at first, but growing more urgent as the pleasure builds between you.

Oscar’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes never leaving the sight of himself inside you. “You’re so … perfect,” he groans, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His movements grow more desperate, the tension between you building to an almost unbearable intensity. Your body is on fire, every nerve alight as he fills you completely. You can feel him so deep, every inch of him stretching you in ways you’ve never experienced before.

And then, just as the pressure becomes too much, you tip over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around him, muscles tightening and pulsing in rhythmic waves. The pleasure is blinding, sharp, your breath hitching as you cry out his name. You’ve never felt anything like it, the intensity of the release leaving you shaking beneath him, your legs trembling as you clutch at his shoulders.

The sudden tightening of your body around him pulls a deep groan from Oscar’s throat, and you feel him lose control. His thrusts falter, becoming erratic as he buries himself inside you one last time. His jaw clenches, his eyes squeezed shut as his own orgasm rips through him. His release is overwhelming — hot and thick, spilling into you with an intensity that leaves you both breathless.

Oscar collapses against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he gasps for air. You can feel him still twitching inside you, the last remnants of his orgasm making him shudder against your body. He’s still buried deep, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you so completely it almost feels unreal.

You’re both silent for a moment, just breathing together, the weight of what just happened settling between you. Then, slowly, Oscar lifts his head, his eyes hazy and dazed as he looks down at you.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his voice rough, concern flickering in his eyes even as he struggles to catch his breath.

You nod, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “I’m more than okay.”

His gaze softens, and his hand moves down to your stomach, where you can feel an odd fullness, a strange weight that wasn’t there before. His palm rests over your belly, and when you both look down, you see it — the way your stomach has a slight bulge, rounded out from how much he’s filled you.

Oscar’s eyes widen, his hand pressing down gently as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “I … did I do that?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bite your lip, heat flooding your cheeks as you nod. “I think so.”

A low groan escapes him, his eyes glued to the sight of your swollen belly. “Jesus … that’s … fuck, that’s so hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, his hand rubbing slow, gentle circles over the small bump.

His obsession with it sends a new wave of heat through you. The feeling of being so full, so utterly claimed by him, is intoxicating. You reach down, covering his hand with yours, pressing it harder against your belly. “You like it?” You ask, teasingly, though you already know the answer.

Oscar’s eyes flash up to yours, dark and filled with something primal. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anything like this. I can’t … I can’t stop looking at it.”

He keeps rubbing your belly, his fingers tracing over the slight rise, his gaze fixed on the way your body holds all of him. You shiver beneath his touch, the sensation of his hand against your skin sending jolts of pleasure through you. You can feel him starting to soften inside you, but there’s still a delicious fullness that leaves you squirming, your body craving more despite how completely wrecked you feel.

Oscar seems to notice, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand trails lower, his fingers brushing against your sensitive clit. You gasp, your body jerking in response, and he smiles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“You’re still sensitive,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your bundle of nerves with gentle pressure. “I can feel it.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continues to tease you, his movements slow and deliberate. “Oscar …” you breathe, your voice trembling. “I don’t think I can …”

But you can. The tension in your body builds again so quickly, it’s almost dizzying. His touch is relentless, his thumb rubbing slow, firm circles that drive you insane. The combination of the fullness in your belly and the stimulation at your core is overwhelming, your body teetering on the edge of another orgasm before you can even process it.

“I can feel how tight you still are,” Oscar whispers, his voice husky as he watches you squirm beneath him. “God, you’re so perfect.”

His words, his touch, the sight of him above you — it’s all too much. Your body arches off the bed, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you fall over the edge again, your second orgasm hitting you harder than the first. The pleasure is intense, bordering on painful as your muscles contract around him, your body shaking with the force of it.

Oscar groans, his hand still rubbing slow circles over your belly as he watches you come undone beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You gasp for air, your body trembling as the waves of pleasure slowly subside, leaving you feeling utterly spent. Oscar finally stops his teasing, his hand still resting on your belly as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, his voice gentle, almost tender.

You nod, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “Yeah … more than okay.”

He chuckles softly, shifting his weight to lie beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close. His hand remains on your belly, though, still fascinated by the slight swell he’s caused.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You turn to face him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “I’m the lucky one,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection for him.

For a while, you both just lie there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of what just happened settling in. There’s no rush, no urgency — just the quiet intimacy of being together after something so intense.

Oscar’s hand continues to rub slow, soothing circles over your belly, and you feel yourself slowly drifting toward sleep, your body completely relaxed and satisfied. Just before you drift off, you hear Oscar’s soft voice in your ear, filled with quiet wonder.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how perfectly you fit me.”

And in that moment, you know that nothing has ever felt more right.

***

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft rays of sunlight across the hotel room. You stir in the bed, blinking your eyes open, the haze of sleep still thick in your mind. As you stretch, your entire body reminds you of the events from the night before. Every muscle feels heavy, a delicious soreness radiating from deep within you. You smile to yourself, the memory of Oscar’s hands on your body, his whispers in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Your bladder protests, urging you out of bed, but as soon as you shift to swing your legs over the side of the bed, a sharp jolt of soreness runs up your thighs. You pause, blinking in confusion, then try again — more gingerly this time. Your legs are stiff, the muscles weak and uncooperative as you push yourself to stand.

You barely make it two steps before your legs give out beneath you.

The floor rushes up to meet you, and with a soft thud, you crumple into a heap on the carpet. A surprised gasp escapes your lips, and before you can process what’s happened, Oscar is jolting awake beside you.

“Shit — what was that?” He mumbles groggily, but the second he sees you on the floor, his eyes go wide, panic flashing across his face. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He’s out of bed in an instant, rushing to your side, his hands gripping your shoulders as he kneels next to you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, though your body feels like it’s been through a marathon. “I’m fine, I just …” You bite your lip, wincing as you try to shift. “I guess my legs don’t really work right now.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in concern, and he gently lifts you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you back to the bed like you weigh nothing. “What do you mean your legs don’t work?” His voice is tight, laced with worry, and he lays you down carefully, as if he’s afraid you’ll break.

You groan softly as you sink back into the mattress, your legs still trembling from the effort. “I’m just … really sore. Like, everywhere.”

Oscar’s face pales, and you can see the guilt washing over him in an instant. “Oh my God, I hurt you, didn’t I?” His voice is barely a whisper, his hands hovering over you as if he’s afraid to touch you again. “I knew I was too rough. I knew I was too big. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Hey, no,” you interrupt, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “It’s not like that. I’m just sore from … you know.” You feel a flush creeping up your neck, but you manage a small smile. “It’s a good kind of sore.”

Oscar shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “No, no, this isn’t okay. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I should’ve been more careful.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it’s strained as you shift slightly in bed. “Oscar, I’m fine. Really. I feel amazing, actually. This is just … the aftermath.” You wiggle your toes experimentally, and while the soreness is still there, it’s more of a reminder of the pleasure you felt last night than actual pain.

Oscar isn’t convinced. He sits on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “You couldn’t even walk this morning because of me,” he mutters, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

The tenderness in his voice makes your heart ache, and you sit up slowly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Oscar, you didn’t hurt me,” you say softly. “You made me feel incredible. Yes, I’m sore, but it’s because of how good it was. Not because you did anything wrong.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure? I mean, you literally fell out of bed.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. “Yeah, well … maybe that’s just proof of how well you did.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face, but the worry still lingers. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

You shake your head, your hand moving to rest on his thigh. “No. I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve never felt like that before, Oscar. You didn’t hurt me — you made me feel alive.”

His expression softens at your words, but you can still see the guilt etched in the lines of his face. He exhales slowly, his hand covering yours on his thigh. “I just … I don’t want to ever do something that makes you feel like you can’t even move the next day.”

“Well,” you say, biting your lip playfully, “if it’s the kind of thing that leaves me this sore, I think I could get used to it.” You wink at him, trying to lighten the mood, but Oscar’s eyes widen, and he groans.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

You laugh softly, wincing at the tightness in your hips as you shift again. “I mean, there are worse ways to be sore. Besides, this is kind of your fault. You can make it up to me.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in confusion. “How?”

You give him a mischievous look. “By doing it all over again and making sure I can never walk properly again.”

He blinks at you, momentarily stunned. “You’re joking, right?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I — but … you’re already sore.”

You lean back against the pillows, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. “Exactly. So you might as well make it count.”

For a second, he’s speechless. Then, his lips twitch, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re serious?”

You nod, biting your lip to hide your grin. “Very.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and you can see the tension start to melt away from his shoulders. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrug, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a high pain tolerance. Besides, I think I deserve a little reward after surviving last night, don’t you?”

Oscar’s smile fades slightly, and he looks at you with a mix of affection and disbelief. “You’re really okay?”

You nod, your hand squeezing his thigh again. “More than okay, Oscar. I’m serious — I want you again. Even if it leaves me sore for a week.”

His expression softens, and he leans down, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You grin up at him. “I try.”

Oscar’s hand trails down your side, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin as if testing how much you can handle. “I don’t want to push you too hard,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your temple.

“You’re not pushing me,” you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want this.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, his hand moving lower, tracing over your stomach and down between your legs. The touch is featherlight, testing, but even that small contact sends a shiver through your body.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Oscar says, his voice low and serious, but you can already feel the heat building between you again, and the soreness fades into the background of your mind, overwhelmed by the need rising in you.

“I will,” you breathe, already arching into his touch.

Oscar’s lips find yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more urgent as the tension between you sparks back to life. His hand slides lower, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel yourself growing wet again, your body responding to him despite the lingering ache.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “You really want to do this again?”

You nod, breathless. “I need you.”

That’s all it takes for Oscar to give in. He shifts above you, his body pressing against yours as he positions himself between your legs. The weight of him is comforting, familiar, and despite the soreness, you crave the feeling of him filling you again.

Oscar moves slowly, carefully, but the stretch is just as intense as last night. You gasp as he pushes inside, your body still adjusting to the sheer size of him, but it’s not painful this time — just overwhelming in the best way.

“Oh my God,” Oscar groans, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he pushes deeper. “You’re still so tight.”

You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he moves inside you, the pleasure building quickly despite the soreness in your muscles. The mix of discomfort and ecstasy is intoxicating, and soon, you’re lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, your mind blank except for the sensation of him filling you completely.

Oscar’s hands grip your hips, his movements growing more urgent as he finds his rhythm. You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to hurt you, but even with the restraint, the intensity of it all has you teetering on the edge again.

“You’re so perfect,” Oscar murmurs against your skin, his breath hot on your neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You shudder beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel yourself nearing the edge once again. “Don’t stop,” you gasp, your body arching into his as the pleasure coils tight inside you, threatening to snap.

Oscar groans in response, his pace picking up, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, until you're barely holding on. You can feel the intensity building between you, the friction, the connection driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tighter, his breath hot against your neck as he murmurs, “God, you feel so good. I could do this forever.”

The words send a thrill through you, and you grip him harder, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Oscar,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure inside you mounts, overwhelming, unstoppable.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he drives into you again, deeper than before. “Come for me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. His words send you spiraling, your body clenching around him as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. You cry out, your legs trembling, your hands gripping him as tight as you can, pulling him closer as your entire body shakes with the force of your release.

Oscar groans as your body tightens around him, his control slipping as he watches you fall apart beneath him. His rhythm falters, then he pushes deep one last time, his release hitting with a shudder as he spills inside you. His breath is ragged, his body trembling as he holds himself over you, the weight of his body grounding you as the aftershocks of your orgasm pulse through you.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath. Oscar collapses against you, his head resting on your chest as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, a soft, satisfied smile on your lips as the warmth of his body soothes your soreness.

After a long silence, he finally speaks, his voice soft and a little shaky. “You … okay?”

You laugh softly, your body feeling like it’s been thoroughly worked over, but in the best way possible. “Yeah,” you whisper, brushing his hair back. “More than okay.”

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes filled with affection but also a hint of lingering concern. “I didn’t hurt you?”

You shake your head, smiling up at him. “No, you didn’t hurt me. You were perfect.”

He relaxes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

You hum in contentment, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all. “Just make sure I can walk by tomorrow, okay?”

Oscar chuckles, his hand trailing down to your hip as he pulls you close. “No promises.”

***

Oscar steps out of the car first, scanning the airstrip where McLaren’s private jet waits. His brow furrows slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. The morning sun is harsh, casting long shadows on the tarmac, but his focus is entirely on you. He turns back, opening the car door carefully, like he’s preparing for something delicate.

You wince as you try to swing your legs out of the car. The soreness from last night has reached a whole new level, and every movement feels like your muscles are made of lead. You’d tried standing when you first woke up, but it was a no-go. Now, as you attempt to shift out of the car, it’s confirmed: you really can’t walk.

Oscar leans down, his hands gently coming to rest on your hips. “Ready?” His voice is soft, a little sheepish, like he’s still not over the guilt from earlier.

“Do I have a choice?” You joke, though your body aches in a way that’s both painful and satisfying, a reminder of last night’s passion.

He gives you a small smile, his eyes soft as he reaches under your knees and lifts you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest as he straightens up.

“Okay, this is officially ridiculous,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder, half-embarrassed, half-amused.

Oscar chuckles, holding you close. “You’re the one who said you wanted to make sure you couldn’t walk properly again.”

You lift your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d take it so literally.”

He grins, but you can see the hint of worry still lingering in his eyes. “Too late now. Besides, I think I might enjoy this.”

“You enjoy having to carry me across an airstrip in front of your entire team?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light, though you know it’s about to get a lot more embarrassing once people start noticing.

Oscar shrugs, shifting you slightly in his arms as he starts walking toward the jet. “I enjoy taking care of you.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your earlier embarrassment fading. He’s so earnest, so gentle, even now, and it’s hard to feel anything but safe in his arms.

As you near the jet, you can already see the crew milling around, loading luggage and prepping for departure. And, of course, Lando is leaning casually against the stairs leading up to the plane, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as soon as he spots the two of you.

“Well, well, well,” Lando calls out, his voice full of teasing glee. “What do we have here? Oscar playing the hero?”

You groan softly, burying your face in Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please no,” you mutter under your breath.

Oscar doesn’t slow down as he approaches, though you can feel his body tense slightly. He’s protective, even if he’s trying to laugh it off. “Don’t start, Lando,” he warns, though there’s a playful edge to his voice.

But Lando’s never been one to back off, especially when there’s an opportunity to tease his teammate. He pushes off the stairs and stands directly in front of you two, hands on his hips. “What, did she trip or something? Or is this …” He pauses dramatically, raising an eyebrow. “Is this because of Sunday night?”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks immediately. You’ve had your fair share of teasing from Lando before, but this — this is next-level mortifying. Oscar adjusts his hold on you slightly, and you can feel the subtle tightening of his grip, like he’s shielding you from whatever’s coming.

“Lando,” Oscar says, his tone warning, but not harsh. “Seriously.”

But Lando’s not done. His eyes dart between you and Oscar, and his grin widens. “Wait — wait. Hold on. Is she not able to walk?”

You don’t say anything, but your silence must be enough because Lando’s grin fades, replaced by a look of genuine shock. “Oh my God. You’re actually serious.”

Oscar’s jaw tightens, and he shifts you in his arms again, turning slightly like he’s ready to move past Lando and end this conversation. But Lando steps closer, his playful demeanor slipping into something more serious as he realizes the situation is … real.

“Mate,” Lando says, his voice lower now, almost incredulous. “Did you … I mean, you didn’t-”

“No,” Oscar cuts him off quickly, his voice firm but not defensive. “I didn’t hurt her.”

You peek out from Oscar’s shoulder, meeting Lando’s wide-eyed gaze. “I’m fine,” you add, trying to inject some normalcy back into the situation. “It’s just … you know.”

Lando’s brows shoot up. “I really don’t know.”

You laugh softly despite yourself. “Well, I’m not hurt. Just … sore.”

Lando’s mouth opens and closes as if he’s trying to find the right words, but for once, he’s speechless. He glances between you and Oscar, and then shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“I mean, I’ve heard of being ‘swept off your feet,’ but this …” Lando trails off, his eyes flicking down to your legs, which you’re certain look completely useless at this point. “This is next level.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You done?”

Lando lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just saying — next time, maybe leave her able to walk? Just a suggestion.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please make him stop.”

Oscar chuckles, squeezing you gently. “Lando, I swear, if you don’t move, I’m going to drop her on you.”

Lando steps aside, holding his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. But seriously,” he adds, glancing at you with a smirk. “You two should probably invest in some crutches.”

You shoot him a withering look, but there’s no malice behind it. “You’re not funny.”

“I disagree,” Lando grins. “I’m hilarious.”

Oscar shakes his head, moving past Lando and toward the stairs. As he climbs up, still carrying you effortlessly, you whisper, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Probably not.”

By the time he settles you down in one of the plush seats on the jet, the soreness in your legs has turned into a dull throb. You sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh, stretching out as much as you can without wincing. Oscar sits beside you, his hand immediately resting on your thigh, a silent check-in.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, his brow still slightly furrowed.

“I promise,” you say, reaching for his hand. “I mean, yes, I probably won’t be running any marathons anytime soon, but it’s worth it.”

Oscar gives you a lopsided smile, but the concern doesn’t fully leave his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d actually-”

You cut him off, squeezing his hand. “Oscar, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m the one who asked for it.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Still.”

You lean closer, brushing your lips against his. “It was perfect,” you murmur softly. “You’re perfect.”

He exhales, some of the tension finally leaving his body as he leans into your kiss. “If you say so.”

“I do,” you whisper against his lips, then lean back with a grin. “Now, how are you going to carry me once we land?”

Oscar laughs, a sound that’s light and warm. “I’ll figure it out.”

From across the aisle, Lando chimes in, “Just get a wheelchair. Might be worth the investment if this is going to be a common occurrence.”

You throw a pillow at him. “Shut up, Lando.”

But deep down, despite the teasing and the soreness, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (the tiniest bit), a lot of cussing (typical of bkg), reader has an ex-boyfriend, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg

masterlist | part 1, part 2 (they're all bite-sized, dw), part 4 (this one not so much), part 5 (this one too), part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

You drop your new 0.38 ballpoint pen and it goes tumbling down, down, to the pristine carpeted floor.

Right where your jaw is.

“My what?”

The man of the hour has the audacity to scoff and roll his eyes.

Is it too late to actually follow through with your fantasy of strangling him?

As if he’s daring you to go for it, he tosses you the nth annoyed look of the night. “What did I just fucking say about not making me say things twice?”

You feel yourself flush with what you think is anger and embarrassment. “Bakugou, sir—”

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Smartass.

That’s it.

Before you know it, you’re already on your feet, stalking your way toward the man with the proverbial steam coming out of your nose and ears. His eyes widen in surprise as you get closer and closer before you stop right in front of his desk, towering over him for once.

“My date? Really?” You sound so incredulous, even to yourself, and you can’t help the seed of pride that blossoms over what you think is worry dancing across his features. He’s out of his goddamn mind, and between the two of you, you’re not about to be the only whose feathers are visibly ruffled over this dumb-as-shit idea. He has no business being so cool about it.

Never mind that your heart is hammering in exasperation.

Yes, just that.

Shaking your head, you press on. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re coworkers.”

You gesture to the space between you, and he merely raises his eyebrow in response with his strong arms crossed in front of his chest—snobbish as ever. “You’re my boss and I’m your underling. And I’m the HR head, for crying out loud.”

You pause to debate whether or not to say the next thing before deciding fuck it. “And what makes you think I don’t have—”

“Do you?”

Your face scrunches involuntarily at being cut off, “What?”

He leans forward, not breaking eye contact as if he’s challenging you. “Do you have a boyfriend?” He cocks his head to the side, “Or a date, at the very least?”

Your voice is small when you respond with the pitiful truth.

“…No?”

At that, Bakugou grins. If you didn’t know any better, you would say the fucking behemoth of a man looked pleased. He pushes against the edge of his desk, effectively creating a much more appropriate distance between the two of you. “Well, that settles it then. I’ll be your dashing date, we show up to your shitty ex’s wedding, and I finally teach that dickhead a lesson or two.”

A million questions start racing in your head, like: Why is this his first solution to the problem? Did he even consider whether or not you wanted to go in the first place? What did he mean by finally? And just—why?

But the one you manage to stammer out is: “Dude—what the fuck are you going to do? Are you about to mangle a guy at his wedding?!”

He looks at you like you just unceremoniously bit his ass. “What? No. What do you take me for, a brainless Nomu who just goes apeshit?”

You can only grumble in response. Yes, sometimes.

He sighs for the umpteenth time as if you’re the one who has steered the already unpleasant conversation into this bizarre topic. He stands up from his seat, and you’re back to being the one looking up at him.

The same thing probably registers in his mind because a smug look takes over his features within seconds.

“And, if you must know, I’m going to do so by being the best trophy date ever.”

You fight the reflex to choke at his words. Instead, you squint your eyes and muster your most scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

Bakugou doesn’t respond for a while, choosing to circle his desk and plant himself to your right. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, let alone jerk back at the proximity, he bends toward you until his mouth is a breadth away from your ear. His minty breath tickles your skin when he finally says: “I’m a hero, remember?”

With that, the “hero” in question sashays to the glass doorway like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you, leaving you slackjawed and unresponsive.

He’s almost out of view by the time you manage to collect yourself and blurt out a reply.

“Hey, where are you going? We still have work to do.”

“Relax,” he calls out from the hallway, his voice receding as he walks farther and farther away from you. “’m just gonna take a piss.”

When you’re sure he’s out of earshot, you slump back in your seat, all the strength that’s left apparently having dissipated after that ludicrous exchange.

How could he throw every caution to the wind just like that? Did he forget he was just one spot away from being number 1? His PR team is going to kill both of you for even thinking this.

As you wait for Bakugou to finish his trip to the comfort room, you can’t help but contemplate the absurd idea. Needless to say, and despite Bakugou’s apparent nonchalance, there’s planning involved.

What are people going to say? If (once) the people from your agency—no, anyone who knows the #2 Prohero, really (which is virtually everyone)—find out, you’re toast. You’re going to be the subject of every tabloid in Musutafu—no, the entirety of Japan and maybe even in some news sites overseas—and you are absolutely not ready for that scrutinization.

And all that over a one-day fake dating stint? You’ve got to be kidding yourself.

But the more you think about it, the less foreign and preposterous the idea becomes. You know you shouldn’t even be considering it, but you can’t help it.

Getting dumped by your boyfriend over the phone only for him to reconnect with his high school sweetheart (did they even ever lose touch?) and get engaged five months later was humbling enough, let alone going to his wedding alone?

The first, obvious answer when you first saw the invite in the mail was to not go. But the more you sat on it, the more you realized how pitiful it would be to be a no-show. Was not going wiser than going alone? Probably. But you’re sick of hiding— avoiding—and you promised yourself this year that you’ll be facing your fears head-on.

Chewing your lip in deep reflection, your brain drifts back to the very person who came up with the proposition.

He seemed sure and determined enough—and it wasn’t like Bakugou to not be calculating and to not have everything mapped out, as similar as he can be to a raging bull. He probably has thought about the consequences to the T, in the few minutes of processing your situation, potentially more than you have.

And damn it, the man is attractive.

If there’s anyone you’d bring to your ex’s wedding to make him regret everything he did to you, it would be Bakugou Katsuki. Although you’d never admit it to the man even if you were held at gunpoint.

“Oi.”

Speak of the devil.

You startle at the sound of his gruff voice, abruptly dragging you out of your reverie.

He’s now standing beside you, hands in his pockets and face studying yours closely as if he’s searching for something.

You stare him back down before you finally decide on what to say.

You can’t believe what you’re about to do.

Gulping, you maintain your gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

“Would I be suggesting it if I wasn’t?”

Fair point.

To your surprise, Bakugou crouches down to regard you and you find yourself directly face-to-face. Despite yourself, you gulp in nervousness at the sudden proximity, and you think he notices because the jackass has the nerve to flash you a smirk.

You furrow your brows in an attempt to regain your composure and any semblance of control over the situation. “And you’re sure you’re gonna succeed as, and I quote, my ‘trophy date?’”

He sneers, although he doesn’t seem to be offended by your challenge. It’s probably because the statement means nothing to him—at this exact moment, the guy is practically oozing with confidence.

Bakugou chuckles, and you find yourself grateful that you’re seated because the next thing he is about to say instantly floors you.

“One thing about me, princess, is that I always win.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii

[princessbrunette]

yk who i miss gonner!rafe like i just imagine him giving you a body inspection before and fater you go to a girls night

"baby i gotta make sure this pussy only has my cum in it"

i miss gooner!rafe because… well, it’s literally the jittery coked up s1 rafe that we all love 😣

ᥫ᭡ㅤ⠀ㅤ ࣪ 𓈒⠀ྀིㅤׂㅤ ʚɞྀ

he’d offered to pick you up from your friends house after a girls night. you were not dating rafe by any stretch of the word — but it was clear he carried some sort of sick obsession with you, already standing infront of his car waiting for you on the street when you’d stumbled out the house, a little tipsy.

he’d made awkward eye contact with your friends, knowing they knew how the two of you were fucking like rabbits and cleared his throat, looking around.

“thanks for picking me up.” you giggle as you approach him, and he eyes you — unabashedly because he was past caring if you saw that kind of thing.

“uh…” he stares as he scratches his cheek, glassy eyed and unfocused for a second. “yeah.”

you go to reach for the car door handle but he blocks your path, licking his lips. he seemed jittery and a little on edge, so you furrow your eyebrows looking up at him inquisitively.

“rafe?”

“were you hangin’ out with guys… tonight?” he comes out with it. again, he wasn’t your boyfriend — so really, he had no place asking such things. yes, there were guys there — but you specifically hadn’t really been hanging out with them, a couple of them just accompanying your friends for a little while. for the most part it really was just a girls night. when you take a moment to think, dumbly staring up at him he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. “huh?”

“no— well, there were guys there for a little while but they were just… they were there for my friends. why does it even matter?” as soon as you admit that there were guys present, he licks his lips, standing up straight and staring over your head at the house. he wipes his clammy hands on his shorts and shrugs you off when you touch his arm. you go to continue explaining, or more so asking why he cares but he speaks once more — overlapping your own voice.

“are you fuckin’ them then? letting them inside that… that pussy that i thought was just mine?” he blinks at you irritably and your eyes widen at the insinuation.

“no! god no. i barely even spoke to them. if i knew that wasn’t even allowed i would have —”

“yeah, nah see i don’t… i don’t believe you.” he takes your wrist slowly but with pressure and crowds you against the car, looking around before starting to ruck your skirt up.

“rafe— rafe they’re just inside. can’t do this here—” your breath hitches as he kicks your feet wider apart.

“i really don’t care alright just — just let me check.” he grits his teeth a little when you resist him before he smacks your hand out the way and pulls your panties to the side. you’re wet, and for once he doesn’t like that because who was inside that house getting you so wet? his nose twitches in disapproval as you stare up at him helpless with watery doe eyes, unable to do anything but let him inspect you.

he pushes his fingers in and you groan, because it feels good and you can’t help it — and to this he huffs out a quiet sarcastic ‘ha.’ laugh at the fact you’re enjoying it as he shakes his head, continuing to dig around. “didn’t fuck anyone r— rafe. even if i did do you really think i’d be dumb enough to let them cum inside me?”

“yeah you know i think… i think that dick does make you dumb. i’ve seen it first fuckin’ hand okay so i don’t know. just hope you’re not slutting yourself out to these nobodies.” he warns and you shake your head, clutching his wrist as your cunt flutters around his fingers. it begins to become less of an inspection and more of him just straight up fingering you as he presses you to the car.

“m’not! i wouldn’t! rafe i— i only want your dick. s’why m’so wet, knew you were comin’ to get me n’just wanted to hump on you.” you pout. like magic, you suddenly become aware of the way he’s stiffened up against your leg, a minuscule smirk biting at the corners of his lips at the way you stroked his ego.

“alright… shit, yeah… yeah okay.” he agrees, before pulling his fingers out and backing off. you fix your skirt, eyes flickering over to the house you just left to make sure no one was watching before staring up at rafe obediently. he huffs out a breath, fixing himself in his pants before nodding towards the car. as you go to turn to get in, he quickly changes his mind and yanks you back round to face him making you gasp. “not without cleaning up your mess. c’mere.” he grits, stuffing his fingers into your mouth. you mewl, sucking off the remains of your arousal as he watches closely before removing them and forcefully spinning you around to face the car. he slaps your ass before jogging round to his side. “get in.”

ᥫ᭡ㅤ⠀ㅤ ࣪ 𓈒⠀ྀིㅤׂㅤ ʚɞྀ

[thedensworld]

Stay Supple | Y. Jh

Genre: fluff, humour, smut

Summary: two ordinary worker have to deal with a baby. What should they do? Stay supple!

Missing Yoon Jeonghan hour:( but having so much fun writing this?

The weather was perfect, the sun shining just enough to complement the mood. Both you and Jeonghan waved as you split from the elevator—like clockwork. You headed left towards the design team, while he turned right to finance. Just another day as two regular employees at a food label under a large South Korean company.

"What's your relationship with Ji Y/N?" Jeonghan was first asked this after the two of you were seen leaving work together.

"She's my friend," he'd answer, as simply as possible, before walking off, leaving behind a trail of curious colleagues.

But when your coworkers found out you actually knew "the pretty guy from finance," their questions were relentless: “Is he single?” “Are you two dating?”

"He's my roommate," you revealed one day, much to their shock. "And, believe me, he looks way better than he actually is."

Exposing Jeonghan's less-than-angelic personality to his adoring fans became your daily amusement. It was a shock to everyone when they realized the two of you shared a flat. You’d known each other since junior high, moving to Seoul together in pursuit of better education, career prospects, and, maybe, love. But living in the capital wasn’t some dreamy K-drama. Everything was overpriced, especially rent. So, with some initial hesitation, you two decided to share an apartment.

"You failed your test?" Jeonghan mocked you years ago, when you returned from your architecture exam. He wasn’t surprised—you were hopeless at STEM subjects, and he loved to rub it in.

"I told you she was a snake," you reminded him when he came home heartbroken after his three-month relationship in university went up in flames. She'd used him to get through finals. Classic.

There was an ongoing joke between you two: "There are two types of people in this world—smart but evil, and kind but dumb." It didn’t take much guessing which label each of you wore.

“How was work?” Jeonghan asked as you both trudged home from the bus stop, a routine you had grown used to. The walk was long, so you filled the time with idle chat, unless you'd had an argument the night before, then it was all awkward silence.

You beamed at him, barely containing your excitement. "Amazing! The project I pitched was a hit! I can practically smell a promotion coming."

Jeonghan chuckled, amused by your enthusiasm. "Good for you. Finance was a bit of chaotic today. Did you know the production costs are getting cut by 2% next month?"

Your excitement dimmed. "Wait, what?"

Jeonghan laughed at your panicked expression. "Don’t worry. We're trying to keep it from affecting your department—maybe even that project of yours."

You sighed dramatically. "You finance people really hold the whole company together, huh?"

As you reached your floor and walked down the hallway, the sound of a baby crying echoed. You grimaced and commented on how loud it was, while Jeonghan mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

“Jeonghan,” you stopped just a few feet from your door, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

Jeonghan turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, eyes still on his phone.

You pointed toward your apartment door. He finally looked up and saw what had rendered you speechless.

A baby box was sitting right there, in front of your door.

“Well, that's... unexpected,” Jeonghan quipped, scratching his head.

*

You stepped out of the police station, practically fuming, your brows knit together in frustration. Whatever happened inside had clearly pushed you to the edge.

"Do I look like a mother? Do I look old?" you snapped at Jeonghan, still seething over the way the officers had assumed things about you and the baby. You were taking it personally—way too personally.

"We need to investigate this situation further. There’s no CCTV on your apartment floor, so it’s hard for us to confirm whether the baby was really left there or if it’s, well... yours,” one of the officers had said, completely indifferent to your rising anger.

Jeonghan sighed, still holding the baby box as if it weighed a ton. His day had been chaotic enough at work, and now this? He just wanted to take a nap, but instead, he found himself standing in front of the police station, accused of something as wild as fathering a baby outside of marriage.

Yet, somehow, he wasn’t as furious as you.

"So, what do we do with this creature?" Jeonghan gestured at the baby, still sounding far too calm for your liking.

"It's a baby," you muttered.

"I know it’s a baby. But what are we supposed to do? The police won’t take it without more evidence, and we can’t exactly keep it," he said, his voice getting louder, almost desperate. His raised tone startled the baby, who began to cry—loudly.

Jeonghan sighed deeply, the sound of the wailing infant pushing him to his limit. He shot you a pleading look, as if expecting you to pull some miracle solution out of thin air. "You’ve never thought about being in a situation like this before?" he asked, clinging to the hope that you might have a plan.

You shook your head, helpless. "I don’t know... I want to cry too," you mumbled, your frustration bubbling over.

Jeonghan groaned. "Great. That’s exactly what we need—two people crying."

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, resigning himself to the situation. "Let’s just... take it home first. Then we can figure out what to do."

The two of you exchanged a look—one that spoke volumes about how absurd your day had become—before heading back to your shared apartment, a tiny, crying bundle now in tow.

You and Jeonghan sat on the floor of your living room, the baby box placed carefully between the two of you. The baby was still crying, its tiny wails echoing off the walls, and neither of you had the faintest clue how to make it stop.

"Do you think it's hungry? Or maybe... the diaper’s full?" you asked, throwing out the first guesses that came to mind.

Jeonghan instantly grabbed his phone and started Googling. "Yeah, uh, let me just... get some baby stuff," he mumbled, still scrolling as he stood up. He made it a few steps toward the door before turning back to point at you, with a smirk. "And don't do anything dumb while I’m gone. It may be a baby, but trust me—it’s judging you."

You glared at him. "Shut up!" you snapped, though there was a hint of panic creeping into your voice. You had never felt so out of your depth in your own apartment before.

Jeonghan laughed softly under his breath and hurried out the door, leaving you alone with the crying bundle. You sighed, looking down at the baby, and for a second, you swore it was staring back at you, its cries growing more impatient as if it really was judging your lack of maternal instincts.

“Okay, okay, I get it... I’m not cut out for this,” you muttered, feeling a tiny bit of guilt, though mostly stress, wash over you.

When Jeonghan returned home, the sight that greeted him was the last thing he expected. You were sitting on the couch, cradling the baby in your arms, swaying gently as if you'd been doing it for years. The baby was finally quiet, its tiny face peaceful for the first time since you’d found it.

“What did you get?” you asked in a whisper, your voice barely above a breath, as if any louder might undo your newfound peace.

Jeonghan held up a bag and gestured to its contents. "Baby milk, diapers, and... these," he said, showing you a bottle and a baby-sized nipple.

You raised an eyebrow, a little amused. "You got the essentials. How’d that go?"

Jeonghan sighed, a bit sheepish. "The staff asked me how old the baby was. I panicked and just said, 'Uh, it’s a baby... like, you know, baby.’ She gave me the weirdest look because I kept calling it it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, careful not to disturb the baby. “Good job,” you said, offering him a sarcastic thumbs-up before handing the baby over.

Jeonghan, now holding the baby with a mix of terror and curiosity, watched as you headed to the kitchen to prepare the formula. He could hear you from the other room, opening a tutorial video on YouTube, the sounds of "how to make baby formula" echoing faintly through the apartment.

“Will it be too hot?” you called out once you’d finished preparing the milk, holding up the bottle and inspecting it like you were conducting a science experiment.

Jeonghan smirked, bouncing the baby a little in his arms. "If it can handle my hotness, I think it'll be fine."

You shot him a withering look and promptly kicked his leg, just enough to make him grunt in pain.

“Ow,” he grumbled, trying to keep his voice low, but the baby squirmed in his arms, clearly disturbed by the commotion.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed quickly, gently rocking the baby back and forth. You couldn’t help but smile at the scene—a rare sight, Jeonghan being careful and gentle, though his usual antics weren’t too far behind.

"Careful, 'hot stuff,'" you teased, handing him the bottle. "You wouldn’t want to disturb your new fan."

Jeonghan gave you a mock glare before turning his attention back to the baby, slowly offering the bottle. "Let’s see if this works."

*

Neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep. And for once, the reason wasn't work—it was a baby. A very fresh, very loud baby. After fumbling through the process of changing a diaper and discovering the baby was a boy, you immediately passed him over to Jeonghan, wincing.

“I feel like I violated his privacy,” you mumbled, shoving the squirming infant into Jeonghan’s arms. “I didn’t have his consent.”

Jeonghan just rolled his eyes at your dramatic excuse to get out of diaper duty. “Right. Smart-dumb way to avoid the work.”

The next morning, utterly exhausted and desperate for some relief, you two were saved by an unexpected visitor. Your neighbor, a sweet woman in her 50s, knocked on the door, her face full of concern. She’d heard the crying all night and was curious about the sudden arrival of a baby in your apartment.

You and Jeonghan immediately launched into a frantic explanation, stumbling over your words as you described how you’d found the baby on your doorstep. To your immense relief, she offered to help babysit while the two of you went to work.

Now, finally, there was a moment of peace as you both leaned back in the bus seat, your heads resting against the windows. You shared a glance, silently hoping the short 10-minute bus ride would somehow erase the exhaustion weighing you down.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“She raised four kids. She’s more qualified than we are,” Jeonghan muttered, closing his eyes, the weariness catching up with him.

You sighed in agreement, sinking deeper into your seat. For now, all you could do was hope for the best and enjoy the few minutes of quiet before diving back into the chaos of your day.

"You should boil the bottle before using it, to kill the bacteria. Otherwise, the baby could get a stomachache and won't stop crying," your neighbor advised, her tone gentle but firm, as though the two of you were first-time parents instead of accidental babysitters.

Jeonghan and you stood there, nodding along, taking in her wisdom with wide eyes. "And don’t forget, after feeding, make sure he burps by patting his back gently. It’ll help him feel comfortable and sleep better."

With the baby in Jeonghan's arms, you both returned to the apartment, the weight of her advice hanging over you. You dropped everything you were carrying onto the floor, grateful when you noticed she’d even given you a small container of side dishes. You quickly stored them in the fridge while Jeonghan sat down, still rocking the baby gently in his arms.

"You should sleep," Jeonghan said after a few minutes. "I’ll watch the baby for now."

Without a second thought, you hummed in agreement, too tired to argue. You leaned over and gave Jeonghan a quick, tired kiss on the cheek as thanks before dashing off to your bedroom, ready to collapse. Jeonghan rolled his eyes with a smirk, though the small gesture made him chuckle.

As the door to your bedroom clicked shut, Jeonghan looked down at the baby, who had finally stopped fussing. “Well, it’s just you and me now, little guy,” he muttered, gently swaying from side to side. Exhaustion pulled at him, too, but the baby’s small face, now peaceful, kept him focused.

He yawned. "I need sleep as much as you do, buddy," he said softly, but continued rocking the baby, hoping the rhythmic motion would send him—and maybe himself—into a peaceful sleep.

*

Days of raising a baby you didn’t make—a running joke between you and Jeonghan to keep your sanity—were slowly becoming more manageable. The sleeping schedule was still a mess, but somehow, the two of you had adapted. You had even begun to master it. The real hero in your eyes, though, was Mrs. Moon, your neighbor, who had not only been babysitting but also offering wisdom, keeping both of you sane as you navigated this new, unexpected life.

One night, after a week of taking care of “Baby”—what you’d both started calling the little one—you and Jeonghan collapsed onto the couch. Baby lay peacefully in the rocking bed Mrs. Moon had lent you, her granddaughter's old one.

As you both sat there, half-delirious from exhaustion, the conversation inevitably shifted to the cost of suddenly having a baby around—mentally, physically, and especially financially.

“No wonder people in Korea aren’t having kids anymore,” you mused aloud, running a hand through your hair. “It’s a lot.”

Jeonghan, sprawled on the couch beside you, hummed in agreement. “I mean, it’s not news. Everyone knows how hard it is.”

“I’m so tired,” he said, his voice dripping with fatigue. “Like, mentally drained. All I want is to down five bottles of soju and just... disappear for a bit.”

You nodded, feeling the same way. “Right? I should be at a club right now, dancing, living my best life—maybe even finding someone to date,” you mumbled half-jokingly, staring at the ceiling.

Jeonghan turned his head to you, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to find the love of your life at a club?”

You shrugged, barely amused. “It doesn’t have to be love, you know... could just be, you know—distraction,” you said, hinting at something more casual.

Jeonghan gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Cheap,” he teased, his eyes wide in mock judgment.

You swatted his arm, your voice dropping to a whisper, trying not to wake Baby. “I lost my virginity at 22! I wasn’t that cheap,” you hissed, more amused than angry.

Jeonghan burst into soft laughter, knowing full well you were just messing around. He’d known you for too long to take any of this seriously. “I’m just saying... you don’t exactly scream ‘wild-child looking for a one-night stand.’”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling under your breath. “Yeah, well, I could surprise you.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeonghan replied, still smiling. He glanced over at Baby, who remained peacefully asleep, and then back at you.

“When was the last time you had it? With Joshua?” Jeonghan asked, breaking into personal territory the two of you rarely ventured. He was referring to your ex, the American-Korean guy who had ended things when he had to leave the country.

You hummed thoughtfully, rubbing your face. “Honestly? I think I’ve forgotten how it even felt,” you admitted, casting a sideways glance at him. “What about you?”

Jeonghan leaned back, scoffing slightly. “With my last ex, obviously. I’m not some playboy, Y/N, no matter what you think,” he replied, sounding a bit annoyed by the label you often teased him with.

You smirked, resting your chin on your hand. “Was it hard? You know, to only do it with a few people?”

He nodded, glancing at you seriously. “Yeah. I only ever do it when I’m emotionally attached to someone.”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “Like when you did it with me?” you asked, playfully hinting at that one time between you two.

Jeonghan’s gaze shifted toward you, a small, knowing smile forming as he nodded slowly. “Yup. Including you.”

For a brief moment, the air felt heavier between you, the shared history lingering in the silence. But then, as always, the familiarity between you and Jeonghan smoothed over any tension, settling the moment into a comfortable memory rather than an awkward one.

*

“You want me to what?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with disbelief as he stood frozen by the door, still in his campus jacket.

He had just returned from a long day filled with senior-year responsibilities, juggling group projects and graduation prep. Lately, the two of you had barely exchanged more than a few words, with both your schedules completely packed. You were interning at an American-Korean company, and by the time you got home, you’d make a beeline straight to your room, too exhausted for much interaction.

“Please, Jeonghan,” you pleaded, sitting on the couch with clasped hands. “I don’t know who else to ask. I only trust you.”

Jeonghan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He always knew you could be impulsive, but this? This was next-level.

“It’s not something casual, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to comprehend what he was hearing. “It’s... complicated. You seriously want me to take your virginity?”

You pouted, your eyes wide with a mixture of desperation and resolve. “It’ll be a one-time thing,” you assured him. “I promise it won’t change anything between us. I won’t treat you differently.”

Jeonghan groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly torn. “We’ve been friends for eight years,” he reminded you, his voice soft but serious. “What if it doesn’t go well? What happens then? Where am I supposed to live? Are we just going to keep splitting rent and pretend nothing happened?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, amused that he was worried about the rent in such a moment. “It won’t change anything. I swear.”

He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. He wanted to make sure you understood what you were asking for, that you were truly serious about this.

“I’m serious, Jeonghan,” you added softly, your voice more determined now.

He sighed again, his internal conflict clear. “You know this could get messy, right?”

You nodded, eyes unwavering. “I trust you.”

Jeonghan sat down beside you, still visibly unsure but also knowing that in all the years you had been friends, you had always been honest with each other.

After a long, tense pause, he finally spoke. “Alright. If you’re absolutely sure about this...”

*

The two of you took half a day off work, though the morning had started as any other. While you were still in your tank top, getting ready for the day, a knock on the door interrupted your routine. Thinking it was Mrs. Moon, you casually opened the door, only to be met by a police officer.

"Mr. Yoon? Are you Ms. Yoon?" the officer asked.

Caught off guard, you quickly excused yourself to change, leaving Jeonghan to greet the officer. When you rejoined them in the living room, the officer handed both of you a document.

"It's about the report you filed last week regarding the abandoned baby," the officer explained. "We apologize for the delay, but we've since received information about a missing person—a woman in her twenties who disappeared along with her infant."

You and Jeonghan exchanged looks, tension building in the room.

"So, we'd like you to bring the baby to the station. We'll meet with the family to confirm if the baby is theirs."

Later, at the police station, the baby was confirmed to be the missing woman's son, just two months old. The officer showed you and Jeonghan footage of a woman carrying the same baby box, wandering near your apartment complex before leaving it behind. While you weren’t given the full details about the mother, the footage left no doubt.

It was an unexpected turn of events, but also a relief.

“No more baby to babysit,” Jeonghan remarked on your way to work, a mix of exhaustion and amusement in his tone.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of the last few days finally lifting. “We should get Mrs. Moon that apple mango she’s been wanting,” you said, your voice light. Jeonghan made a mental note, closing his eyes as he leaned back in the car seat.

Finally, peace was coming—real peace, and not just the brief moments of quiet between diaper changes and late-night feedings.

"I'm sorry to ask, but I just want to make sure—are you two married?" The officer's tone was polite but curious.

Both you and Jeonghan shook your heads simultaneously. "No, we're not. We're just roommates," Jeonghan replied, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glanced at you.

The officer nodded thoughtfully, taking in your response before offering a friendly smile. "Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any further questions or information, don’t hesitate to reach out."

As the officer turned to leave, you and Jeonghan stood in front of the company building, the bustling city life continuing around you. The weight of the past week was beginning to fade, replaced by a sense of relief.

Jeonghan let out a small chuckle, breaking the momentary silence. "Can you imagine what it would have been like if we had been married? The rumors would have been wild!"

You laughed, shaking your head at the thought. "Thank goodness for our status as roommates, then. At least it keeps things simple."

With a shared smile, you both stepped into the building, ready to face the day ahead—less burdened by the unexpected chaos and more in tune with each other than ever.

*

You arrived home a little later than usual, the warmth of the evening lingering around you. After a lively team dinner filled with laughter and a few glasses of soju, you decided to take a cab home, the comforting thought of Jeonghan waiting, to take care of the drunk you, made the ride feel shorter.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Jeonghan was slouched on the couch, drinking alone and engrossed in a variety show. The table in front of him was a chaotic scene of five bottles of soju and a box of fried chicken.

"You really have five bottles of soju?" you muttered, you sobered up from your own six glasses as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Hey, want to join?" Jeonghan offered, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he finally noticed your presence.

"You weren't joking when you said you would drink five bottles of soju," you replied, taking a seat beside him and pouring a shot of the clear liquid into a glass that had been left untouched, took in in one shot.

"Chill, girl. Did anyone bother you there?" Jeonghan asked, his words slightly slurred, yet still managing to express genuine concern.

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "Not really. But some higher-ups still made me pour drinks for them."

Jeonghan furrowed his brow, his expression shifting from playful to serious. Though he was clearly drunk, he was fighting to stay focused. "Which man should oppa kick his ass today?" he asked, referring to himself with a playful tone.

You chuckled, knowing how much he enjoyed the title. "Jeong Kiha," you mentioned, naming the vice president, which caught him by surprise.

"He came to your team dinner? That's rare," Jeonghan said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can’t help you there; he’s my boss as well."

You leaned in, amused by the whole situation. "What would you even do if you could? Challenge him to a drinking contest?"

"Absolutely! I’d take him down for you," he declared with exaggerated bravado, raising his glass in a mock toast. “But let’s be honest, I might need more practice after five bottles.”

"But if he bothered you, I might just have to make it personal." He continued.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Personal, huh? What do you have in mind?"

With a playful glint in his eye, Jeonghan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I could always take you out. Just the two of us. A more... intimate setting.”

Your heart raced at the suggestion, the alcohol fueling your boldness. "Intimate, you say? What would that look like, Jeonghan?"

"Maybe a cozy little restaurant where we can share more than just food and drinks," he teased, inching even closer. "I could help you unwind after your stuffy dinners with the higher-ups. Just you and me, no distractions."

A flutter of excitement surged through you. “And what else would we do, hmm?” you played along, your voice low and inviting.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning back slightly, eyes dancing with mischief. "I can think of a few ways to help you relieve some stress. You know, like teaching you how to really enjoy your drinks."

You laughed, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Is that your idea of a fun night? Getting me drunk so you can have your way with me?”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone turning serious for a moment. “But only if you want it, too. I wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

His sincerity was disarming, and the tension hung in the air, electric. “You know, it’s tempting,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “Very tempting.”

Jeonghan grinned, raising his glass again. “Then let’s toast to temptation and see where the night takes us.”

You clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, both of you fully aware that this night could lead to something unexpected—and perhaps a little dangerous.

*

Jeonghan knew he was screwed the moment you asked him to take your virginity. The eight-year crush he had nurtured for you transformed into something much more profound once he kissed you for the first time. It felt right—like the universe had aligned in that single, electric moment. Your lips tasted sweet, like vanilla; maybe it was the chapstick you always used, or perhaps it was simply how you tasted. Either way, it was everything he had fantasized about.

He touched you with a gentleness that belied the whirlwind of emotions inside him, laying you down on his bed, because you didn't want to mess up your own. Watching your face shift through various expressions as he explored you sent shivers down his spine. He couldn’t believe you were under him, something that the adolescent version of himself would have dreamt about while fantasizing in the dark, his hand working over his shaft as he thought of you.

The day after he took your virginity, you kept your promise, treating him as a friend and nothing more. And that, honestly, was the most disappointing part for him. While you moved on as if nothing had changed, his feelings remained steadfast, unwavering in their intensity. Eight years had passed since that night, yet his heart still raced at the thought of you.

Now, sitting beside you, he was acutely aware of the space that had grown between you, filled with unspoken words and lingering touches. Jeonghan leaned in, cupping your cheeks in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his palms. His heart pounded as he captured your lips with his once more. After all these years, you were still as sweet as he remembered, and the taste sent him spiraling back to that first kiss, igniting the flame that had never truly faded.

In that moment, all the years of friendship, all the laughter and shared memories, faded into the background. The only thing that mattered was the soft connection between your lips and the lingering sensation of what could be. He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of what you were feeling.

“Do you ever think about that night?” he whispered, vulnerability creeping into his voice.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “I try not to,” you admitted, your tone light but edged with honesty. “I didn’t want things to change between us.”

“And yet, here we are,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and you could feel the tension between you shifting. Jeonghan’s heart raced, hopeful yet anxious, waiting for your response. Would you finally see him for more than just a friend?

You met his gaze, a mix of emotions dancing in your eyes. “What do we do now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s figure it out together,” he replied, closing the distance again, this time with a sense of urgency and purpose.

Jeonghan pulled you onto his lap, his hands roaming over every contour of your body, exploring the soft curves he had admired for so long. You kissed him with a passion that felt life-altering, pouring every ounce of desire and longing into that moment. The heat radiating between you ignited something primal in him—the idea that you wanted him just as fiercely as he wanted you was intoxicating.

He carefully unbuttoned your blouse, mindful that you would scold him if he broke even one button. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers gliding over your bare skin, teasing your breast while his lips trailed kisses along your neck, igniting every nerve ending.

“J—Jeonghan…” A moan escaped your lips, and the sound sent shivers down his spine as he marked your neck with his lips, claiming you in ways that made his heart race. “I got you, baby. I got you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

Your top lay discarded, and in a frenzy of desire, Jeonghan couldn’t even remember when he had removed it. He lifted your skirt, grabbing your ass as he kissed you deeply, pouring all his pent-up longing into that one kiss. He guided your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, encouraging you to strip him of his clothes. Your fingers traveled across his bare chest, and he let out a soft whimper at your touch, the sensation igniting a fire within him. This was the moment he had been waiting for—finally feeling your skin against his, a craving he had long held.

“Can you feel that?” he asked, thrusting his hips upward to let you feel how hard you made him. He noticed your cheeks tinting with a lovely blush at the revelation. “That’s how you make me, baby.”

He laid you back onto the couch, lifting your skirt higher until your thighs and underwear were fully exposed to him. One of his hands found its way to your breast, overwhelming you with sensations, while the other traveled lower, exploring your core beneath the thin, damp fabric that clung to you.

“You’re so wet, baby. And it’s all for me,” Jeonghan whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he nibbled on it playfully, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His tongue painted a path along your neck, igniting every nerve ending with desire.

“I need you, Jeonghan,” you whimpered under his skilled touch, desperation lacing your voice. But he hushed you with a passionate kiss, drowning your pleas in the heat of the moment.

“Be patient, baby… Just a little longer,” he replied, his voice a tantalizing promise as he continued to explore every inch of you, savoring the sweetness of your body and the thrill of this intimate connection.

He watched you gasp as he slid one of his fingers inside you, pulling it out slowly while your walls clenched around him. A smirk crept onto his face when you pleaded for more, and he was more than happy to oblige, moving his finger skillfully.

“Is it like the first time? When I fingered you, is it like what I did to you eight years ago?” Jeonghan teased, his voice low and sultry. You whimpered under him, craving everything he had to give.

“It feels amazing. Always.” You struggled to mutter the words, the pleasure overwhelming you as Jeonghan added another finger.

“You’re so tight, baby. I’m not sure you can take me well,” he breathed out, his fingers moving faster, each thrust eliciting a wince as you felt a pooling sensation deep in your tummy.

“I—I can, please… J—Jeonghan…” Your arms pulled him closer, your lips pouting for a kiss, and he obliged immediately, his lips capturing yours while his fingers continued their delicious torment.

“I want to cum,” you mumbled between kisses, and Jeonghan smirked against your lips. “Give it to me, baby.”

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, your body responding to him in a way that made his heart race. He pistoned his fingers with a brutal pace, feeling the pulsating tension building in your core. A loud moan escaped your lips, followed by your first orgasm with him after eight long years, and it was all for his fingers. The thought sent a surge of excitement through him; he couldn’t wait to make you cum with everything he had.

Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean, his gaze locked onto your blissed-out expression, riding high from the waves of pleasure he had just given you.

Without a word, he scooped you up from the couch and carried you to his bedroom. In one swift motion, he threw you onto the bed, his desire palpable as he pulled down his pants and joined you.

With an impatient urgency, he hovered over you, lips meeting in a heated kiss that spoke volumes of the longing built up over the years. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as your bodies melted into one another, igniting the passion that had simmered beneath the surface for so long.

"You want me raw or…?" Jeonghan asked, his voice low and filled with anticipation. His question sent a jolt through you, darkening your gaze as you whispered, "Raw." It was a bold confession, one that set the stage for everything that followed. "Just so you know, I’m on the pill."

He swore he could have died right in your arms at your admission, the thrill of it igniting something primal within him. As your hand traveled down to his abs, you let your fingers tease his skin for a moment before they finally grasped his hardened cock.

“Oh my god—” Jeonghan choked at your touch, his breath hitching. The smirk on your lips told him you were acutely aware of the effect you had on him, and it only intensified his desire.

“Put it in, please,” you begged, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. Jeonghan nodded, leaning in for one last, lingering kiss before he positioned himself, rubbing the tip against your slick entrance, feeling the heat radiating from you.

“Don’t tease,” you urged, your hand playfully pinching his arm, and he chuckled softly, the sound filled with desire.

With a teasing smile, Jeonghan finally pushed his member into your tight heat. He gasped at the overwhelming sensation, feeling you envelop him completely. Every inch of you was warm and inviting, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him, and he knew this was only the beginning.

He stilled inside of you, wanting you to adjust him for moment. You motioned him to move, a whimpered escaped his mouth as he pushed deeper to you slowly. Your walls clenching him tightly, pulling him deeper and making his head spinning. He pulled slowly before his hips thrusting, hitting you right, gaining a sensual moan from you.

"Keep it down, baby. Don’t want Mrs. Moon to hear us," Jeonghan murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed deeper inside you.

"Faster, Jeonghan…" you breathed out the words, your voice a desperate plea laced with urgency. The thrill of being so close, yet so vulnerable, sent your pulse racing.

He obeyed, quickening his pace as he filled you completely, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself amidst the intoxicating sensations.

The bed creaked beneath you. Jeonghan’s lips found yours again, silencing any sounds that threatened to escape, kissing you fiercely as if to drown out everything but the two of you.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched your expression morph from pleasure to pure ecstasy. "I’ve wanted this for so long."

You responded with a whimper, the sound echoing in the small space, and you felt the heat pooling in your core grow stronger with each thrust. "I want you to finish inside me, Jeonghan. Please," you begged, your words spilling out in a breathless rush.

His breath hitched at your request, and he felt himself teetering on the edge of control. "You’re going to make me lose it," he warned, voice thick with need. But the fire in your eyes only urged him on, driving him to give you everything he had.

"Then let go, baby. I’m ready," you encouraged, your body arching against him, meeting his thrusts with fervor. The world outside faded away as you lost yourselves in each other, the only sound filling the room being the rush of your breaths and the soft, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

With one final, deep thrust, Jeonghan buried himself inside you, his body tensing as he let go, the pleasure washing over him like a tidal wave. You followed right behind him, your body tightening around him as your climax hit, drawing out every last bit of ecstasy from both of you.

As you both came down from the high, he collapsed beside you, breathless and spent, while you curled into his side, feeling a mix of satisfaction and disbelief at how far you had come.

“That was... Amazing?” you said, your voice breathless but filled with satisfaction. The choice of word earned a tired laugh from Jeonghan, who could sense your smile before you leaned against his chest, the warmth between you still lingering in the air.

Jeonghan, his heart still racing from the intensity of what had just happened, felt a wave of heat creep up his cheeks. He couldn’t hide the flush staining his skin, and in an attempt to conceal it, he covered his face with his arm, laughing softly. You shifted, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes, clearly enjoying his sudden bashfulness.

“Where’s the confident, cocky Jeonghan I know?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic shyness.

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on the top of your head, refusing to let you see just how red he had become. It was rare for him to feel this flustered, but there was something about being with you that turned his usual bravado into something far more vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the words muffled against your hair.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. “Sorry? For what?”

“I just... I can’t help it,” Jeonghan confessed softly, his voice almost shy. “I—I really like you. It’s been driving me crazy for years, and now that it’s all out in the open... I’m still not sure how to act.”

His confession felt light, as if every action, every kiss, every touch was its own declaration of the feelings he had been holding onto for so long. Saying it aloud didn’t feel like it added anything new, but he needed you to hear it anyway.

You felt his heart beating faster under your palm, and instinctively, you tightened your hold on him. “I... I really like you too. Honestly, I don’t even know when it started, but after all these years, I finally have the courage to admit it. I don’t just like you, Jeonghan. I love you.”

Your words hung in the air between you, sweet and sincere, filling the room with a warmth that rivaled any physical closeness. Jeonghan’s heart soared at your confession, a feeling of complete contentment washing over him. He had dreamed of this moment for years, but nothing could have prepared him for how real and incredible it felt to finally hear you say it.

You chuckled softly, resting your head back against his chest. “You really should’ve told me earlier, you know,” you teased, playfully poking at his side. “Like... earlier earlier.”

*

You watched the football game on the field, your eyes catching a lanky boy with long hair, dribbling the ball as if his life depended on it. His movements were fluid, almost effortless, and it was hard not to be impressed.

"Who's that?" you asked one of your friends, pointing toward the boy, curiosity getting the better of you.

"That? Yoon Jeonghan," they replied casually, as though everyone already knew his name.

Days later, you found yourself standing in front of Jeonghan's desk, clutching your math homework nervously. He was deep in conversation with his friends, his usual calm demeanor unshaken by the chatter around him. Mustering up your courage, you pulled the book from your bag and held it out to him.

"Teach me math! I heard you're the best," you declared boldly, your heart racing, half-expecting him to brush you off.

[li-x1nyu]

how tartaglia reacts when you're drunk and don't recognize him

tartaglia x gn!reader

part 2 is now here

sfw, drunk reader, angst, some fluff, reader has been hurt in prev relationships

A/N: i don't usually post stuff like this hehe, idk what changed my mind to!! hope you enjoy🤭

You had told him if you didn't come home before 2, he should probably come pick you up.

"Hey, you're here!" Hu Tao beams at Tartaglia.

"Thanks for watching them," he grins and gestures to you sitting at the counter.

"Yeah, dude, of course."

Tartaglia stares at you for a little while. He still can't get over how pretty you are, the curve of your nose, the ways your eyes kiss in the corners. Your hair looks surprisingly neat for someone who's drunk. Your expression is distant, finger trailing along the edge of the glass. You seem to be drinking vodka? He thought you didn't like vodka.

Sliding an arm around your shoulders, he leans to whisper in your ear, "Hey, pretty, you ready to go?"

You leap back into the present.

Looking puzzled, you push his arm off of you, saying, "Please don't call me that."

He blinks, a ghost of a smile still on his face. "Haha... what?"

Their faces mirror each other in confusion.

"I'm not going home with you, I have a boyfriend," you say, turning back to the half filled glass.

It clicks in Tartgalia's head, and a teasing grin forms. "A boyfriend, huh? Can I fight him for you?"

"You'd lose," you reply flatly, deadpan.

Dropping himself into the seat next to you and propping up his cheek, he says, "Tell me about this boyfriend of yours."

He watches his lover's expression brighten, like you forgot the entire exchange that just happened.

"Oh, he's the sweetest," you gush immediately. "And he makes me laugh so much, and he's so lively and good with people, but he's so hardworking and stubborn and, ugh, he's so beautiful. How is it possible to be so beautiful?"

His heart is about to explode all over Hu Tao's kitchen counter. His mind can't believe it, he's the reason your face is a beautiful, dreamy, rambling mess.

And you're not done. "I don't deserve him," you say, "I wish I could do something for him, but he always says I don't have to."

Because you don't have to, my dove, Tartaglia thinks. You're doing more than enough already.

Your expression suddenly snaps. "Shit. I'm a terrible person. I need to go home."

Tartaglia snaps out of his own trance in alarm. "Why?"

"He's at home now, and I'm out here getting wasted." You rub your face and search for your bag and phone.

"Woah, hey, you're drunk," he holds you by the shoulders, "I'm taking you home."

"Just because you're literally gorgeous doesn't mean you get to touch and take home random people!" You smack his hands off of you, again. Tartaglia's not sure if he should cry or laugh.

You cover your mouth in surprise at your own words. "Holy fuck, I'm a terrible person," you whisper. "Am I allowed to call someone who isn't my boyfriend gorgeous?"

He's convinced alcohol makes your brain overthink twice as fast as it usually does.

He also thinks it's a dumb question. Have I given them the impression they can't speak their mind?

He thinks it's okay. "Of course you are," he tells you instead, frowning. "He's not a good boyfriend if you have to be allowed to do something."

"No, he's a great boyfriend!" you say instantly. "I just-" You cut yourself off with a sigh and chew on your fingernail. There's a loud thumping in his heart as he waits for you to continue.

"I never know about these things," you say finally. "I feel like he never really tells me how he truly feels. I don't know if there's something I do that actually bothers him. And I'm..." You rub your nose bridge. "I'm scared to ask."

Tartaglia is quiet for a long moment. What he has cleverly deduced from this is that his lover is scared of him. All pride he'd felt earlier from making you swoon is now replaced by a sick feeling of self hatred.

"Maybe there's just nothing you do that really bothers him," he suggests softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Your expression turns glum. Fuck, was that the wrong thing to say? He mentally kicks himself.

"That can't be right," you sigh. "When I have nightmares, he always wakes up to comfort me. I'm pretty sure that pisses him off. And he always says it's okay too, but-" you blink rapidly, like blinking away tears. Tag winces.

"But then he... he takes longer in the shower, adds more caffeine to his coffee. And- and he'll eat less of the breakfast I make him."

"Oh," he says smartly, running out of things to say. He should've paid more attention to the little things, knowing that of course you would.

You shake your head and squeeze your slightly glassy eyes shut. After mumbling to yourself, "stop oversharing to strangers" twice, you put the cork back in the vodka bottle and set your glass in Hu's sink after pouring it down the drain.

"Anyway," you turn to him when you're done, "goodnight, I guess. Thanks for listening?"

"I'll walk you home," he offers again, softly.

You hesitate. Of course you hesitate.

"You're drunk," he reminds you. "I'm sure your boyfriend won't mind as long as you get home safe."

You give in. You let him put his coat around your shoulders, but you don't put your hands through the sleeves.

Halfway home, you just stop walking.

"Love?" Tag tilts his head at you. "Darling, what's wrong?"

You blink a few times. "Tartaglia?"

He grins. "Yes, hi. You recognize me now?"

You blink again. Then a smile starts to spread, and you forget the reason for your daze. You put your arms into the sleeves of his coat. "Yes," you say sheepishly. "Hey, you."

A hand is held out for him to hold.

Their talk can wait for next morning.

sorry if tartaglia is a little ooc! thank you for reading 🫶 might post a part two where he comforts you about it?

[j-jinxee]

୨୧ WHAT ENHA – HYUNG LINE – WOULD SAY DURING MAKE UP SEX ⸝⸝⸝

NSFW under the cut! ⊹ Hyung Line x Reader

✦ [warnings — sex obv, swearing, head - recieving, crying, fingering, petnames]

─────

୨୧ Lee Heeseung

⊳ The way he wouldn't even try to be soft. He'd fuck you dumb until you can't even remember what the argument was about.

⊳ He'd apologise after yes, but not now. For now he's filling you so good you're practically a limp little fucktoy for him :((

⊳ 'you know you can't stay mad at me baby, not when I make you feel this good, huh?'

⊳ 'awh, doll forgot how to speak? That's ok, I'll make you scream again soon bby'

⊳ 'feel me in there bby? feel how fucking deep I am, how well I fill your little cunt'

⊳ You hate that it worked, by the time he was done with you the last thing on your mind was that stupid argument.

⊳ He apologised for how he acted while providing aftercare, quietly but sincerely.

୨୧ Park Jongseong

⊳ Would be all for your pleasure. So incredibly whipped while doing anything to make you forgive him, yet not coming across as desperate.

⊳ So loving and gentle :(( but at the same time bringing you the most pleasure you've ever received in your fucking life.

⊳ 'love you so much bby, all I need is you, always'

⊳ 'I know we fight sometimes but, swear I'm gonna marry you one day'

⊳ He quietly apologised the whole way through, but made sure you knew he was so sincerely sorry by the end of it. Held you through the whole night and wouldn't let you go :((

⊳ Trails heavy kisses down your neck as you cum, whispering how good you are for him everytime, how good you make him feel.

୨୧ Sim Jaeyun

⊳ Poor boys nightmare is coming true :((

⊳ Will plead on his knees to let him eat you out, looking up at you like a lost puppy. Apologising profusely, promising he'll make you feel good.

⊳ Yes you're mad, but you're not stupid, so you reluctantly let him.

⊳ 'fuckkk baby, ' couldn't live without you, I really couldn't'

⊳ 'please bby, I'm so fucking sorry, let me show you- please'

⊳ So scared you won't forgive him afterwards, he means it when he says he couldn't live without you. Everything, your smile, your presence, your sweet little cunt, he needs all of you.

⊳ He's so grateful for you letting him pleasure you through this, n so hard by the end of it but won't dare ask for your help :(( poor boys boxers are drenched in sticky pre, feeling as if he could cry from the contrasting sensations.

⊳ Has you drunk off his tongue by the end of it, took him so long to stop, in fear of what words would come out when you were done screaming his name. Of course though, you forgave him.

୨୧ Park Sunghoon

⊳ Tears were falling as he began to kiss you, the moment was very overwhelming. As much as you wanted to push him away, his touch made everything go quiet.

⊳ When he pulled away, 'I- I just.. I can't do this anymore' you sobbed.

⊳ 'shh I know, I know baby' he whispers, laying you down like a child to sleep.

⊳ 'don't worry, it'll all go away soon'

⊳ Gently pulling down your shorts to slide a finger into your folds. Melting your anxieties away with the pleasurable feeling. Coming back up to capture your lips with his again, putting your soft cries to an end.

⊳ 'm sorry for snapping bby, I know you've been stressed 'm so sorry, you can let go now'

⊳ His sweet words guided you through your feelings, fingers working to tip you over the edge at any second. Quiet kisses and reassuring words, that was him :((

─────

Hope y'all like this one :33 idk why it's taking me so long to finish my one shots lately but anyway, have this 🤞🏻

[mellowwillowy]

𝐃𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬 NSFW

⤷ Synopsis: Your boyfriend loves it when you show him that stupid face of yours, cum drunk as he fucks you raw nonstop, and perhaps the imaginary love that forms in your gaze.

⤷ warnings — hints of manipulative behavior, oral receiving and giving, overstimulation, GN

Yan! Boyfriend is the nicest boyfriend you will ever have! He is a prodigy so he is naturally great in everything that will help you, including fucking you dumb until you feel like nothing but his cocksleeve.

"You like it when I angle my hips this way right?" Your boyfriend teased you as he rammed your insides, his tip hitting that one spot at a steady pace. You could not bring yourself to word an answer, all you could do was to be vocal with your moans.

"Pukuku, you really are adorable," Blue licked your tear-stained cheek upward, tasting the saltiness in your tears, "fucked dumb now? I still have a lot stored in me." You did not doubt his words, this was nothing but a 1/3 of what he could really do to you.

You complained, arms flailing around to push him off from you, legs thrashing against him and mouth blurting out curses at him. He just wouldn't budge, if anything, his erection did not soften up despite the ejaculation he had earlier inside of you.

"Still have shit tons of cum unloaded for you hun. Don't pass out on me just yet." He flashed you a toothy grin as he mouthed your breast, sucking it like a baby. His teeth occasionally grazed your perked-up nipples while his tongue circled your areola. "My favorite milkers, aren't you?"

He started out slow and steady again, his hand feeling your throbbing sex again, offering you another relish of pleasure as your body still trembled from your previous orgasm. "Hmm~ always ready for me to take you aren’t you?" He pulled himself out and shifted his mouth into your sex, tongue working itself skillfully, fingers squelching inside your cum-filled hole. He relishes in how your thighs squeezed his face, hips still instinctively bucking toward his face, "There there, eager aren't you?" he spreaded your thigh open with one of his hands, "Patience, love."

Your arousal was built to the brim again, evident by how you were squirming beneath him, your consciousness at his mercy now. "Ohh, it must have felt so good, to have my tongue edging you to the point you are brimming with tears honey!" You were not sure whether he was demeaning you or being attentive, he had always been an enigma in your eyes.

Even so, you managed to question him, "Is that, khk- s'posed to b-be degrading me?" Blue looked at you doe-eyed, cocking his head to the side, "You think so dear?" Was that supposed to guilt trip you again? You clenched your jaw as you tried to contain your moans, unbothered to answer him. It didn't go unnoticed as he started to pick up his pace, fingers, and tongue diligently working even harder to coax more noises out of you. You have always had the best voice in his opinion after all. "Pretty things with pretty voices shouldn't be this silent yeah?"

You could hear how he might actually slurp your bodily fluids like a thirsty beast, "Cum" His fingers pumped in and out of your hole fast and steady now, "Come on, cum for me yeah?" God, just how was he so skillful with his mouth and hand? Blue's attack did not falter, at least not until he had you creamed in his mouth, swallowing everything you had for him in a large gulp. The way his Adam's apple bobbed was so arousing to watch, especially how your fluid was all over his lip. Blue dragged his finger and tongue to make sure none of it go to waste, sucking his cum-coated fingers clean.

"Tasty aren't you? You are just so addicting honey." His eyes watched your panting figure, overstimulated again after rounds of orgasms. You wanted to spit at his words, to do just anything. You tapped your lip, "Mouth," Blue raised one of his eyebrows, "I want a taste of you, hun." Blue smirked, his pearl-white teeth visible as he gave his cock a few pumps before lining it in front of your lip, "You sure honey? I might rut into your mouth like a rabbit in heat."

You grinned at him, "Anything for my bunny in heat."

You knew oral would not be enough to save you from another round of being pounded raw but at the very least you could have a taste of what was overflowing inside you ♥

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Old Money, Bratty Honey

pairing: bodyguard!Wonwoo x heiress!reader x bodyguard!Vernon

genre: smut - minors dni.

warnings: car sex (a limo specifically), public sex (the windows are tinted but still), mean dom!wonwoo, switch!vernon, brat!reader, sir kink, edging, hair pulling, blowjobs, facefucking, degradation, masturbation, voyeurism, cum swallowing, reader is rich and spoiled (yk how the rest goes)

requested by @onlymingyus

word count: 1.7k

summary: being born in money gives you the chance to try pretty much everything in the world - that includes fucking your two hot bodyguards in your dad's limousine.

Author's note: hello <3 this fic was requested by beloved mars - the unesco forum pics did a LOT of damage

tagging: @gyuwoncheol @wonwussy bcs they asked to suffer so here we are

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

“Do you remember your speech?”

“Tch, of course I do.” You roll your eyes. “I wrote it myself, remember?”

“I know you did. Just wanted to check whether your brain cells are still active.” Wonwoo smirks.

“Unlucky for you, they are very much intact and in better shape than yours.” You bite back.

“Is there any time of any day where the two of you don’t argue?” Vernon groans from behind you. “Can we just…enjoy the little time we have left until we arrive at the venue?”

“Mmm, of course we can, Nonie.” You turn your attention to your other bodyguard. “He’s never fun, either way. But you are way more fun, right?” You make yourself comfortable in his lap, your manicured hands smoothing over his chest.

“Anything for you, honey. You know me.” Vernon smirks and leans in the crevice of your neck, lips and tongue gliding over your skin.

Wonwoo sighs in defeat and averts his eyes from the unfolding scene, trying to ignore it. 

If it wasn’t for the hefty salary that gets deposited every month in his bank account, he wouldn’t even be here. He would rather be walking at a dingy bar, rather than have to babysit a rich brat like you. 

And the worst thing of all? You’re smart and hot as fuck - to the point where he wants to stuff your mouth full of his dick and make you cry.

You’re aware of how uptight and cold Wonwoo is towards you and you can’t really blame him for his attitude - being head of security under your dad basically requires that attitude. Which makes messing around with him even more fun for you.

Vernon, on the other hand, is your assigned personal bodyguard and would fold in half for you, if you asked him to. One bat of your eyelashes is enough to make him cave to any request of yours, thus giving you the perfect cover for your night escapades.

But of course, he always gets rewarded for his secrecy and faith to you - in the form of letting him fuck you dumb more than often.

This is one of the occasions where you want to mess around with both of them at the same time.

You throw the fabric of your gown backwards to uncover your legs and give yourself enough space to grind your clothed pussy over Vernon’s slacks. 

“Careful with your gown, honey.” He reminds you.

“It’s just fabric, I could have tens of that.” You grin towards him.

“How rich and bratty, coming from you.” Wonwoo comments with a venomous tone.

“Yeah, that’s because I am rich, bratty, pretty and smart and you want to fuck me so bad.” You reply boldly.

He slides next to Vernon and grips your jaw with his right hand, keeping it steady directly in front of his face.

“You’re right, little bitch. I want to fuck the brat out of you, to the point you’re crying and begging me to stop.” His voice feels deeper and colder than the ocean, his eyes burning holes in your skull through his horn-rimmed glasses.

You almost hate how hot and fuckable Wonwoo looks today - but you’ve always wanted to know what’s hidden under his professional attire.

“I would like to see you try, you fucking nerd. I bet you’re still a virgin-”

He cuts you off by dragging you off Vernon’s lap and pushes you down on your knees, between his thighs.

“Dude, what the hell!” Vernon glares at the older man.

“Shut the fuck up, Vernon. You have gotten plenty of time with her since you got your job. Now sit back and watch.” Wonwoo orders him as he unbuttons his pants and lets his cock spring free.

Your eyes widen at the size and it makes your mouth fill with saliva and your pussy dampens your Victoria’s Secret panties.

“Tell me, Vernon - Does the pretty brat over here like to suck dick?” Wonwoo asks with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he runs his fist over his shaft.

“Y-Yeah, she does.” The younger man stutters.

“Does she swallow?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Yes what, Vernon?”

“Yes s-sir.”

“Hm, at least one of you can behave.” Wonwoo turns his attention to you again.

“Enjoying the power trip, Wonwoo?” You place your hands over his thighs, rubbing them up and down.

“It’s Sir for you, little brat.” He puts his hand behind your neck and brings your face close enough to let his cock slap against your cheek. “Now put your smartass mouth to good use, will you?”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You rile him up even more.

Wonwoo threads his hands in the back of your hair and forcefully slides his cock in your mouth. You gag when the tip hits your throat, but you manage to suppress your reflex with ease.

“Fuck, honey…” Vernon curses under his breath and starts palming himself over his pants.

“No need to be jealous, Vernon - I’m sure you have experienced this already, right?” Wonwoo chuckles as he uses your hair as leverage to fuck your face.

“I could get used to this, Y/N - this cock-stuffed version of yours is quite likable.”

You grunt in response and purposefully drag your teeth over his cock, eliciting a hiss from him. He drags you off his cock and pulls you upwards, forcing your back to arch.

“Do that one more time and your daddy will find out his precious daughter is a fucking slut.” He threatens you.

“You don’t want to do this, Sir.” You slur the title on purpose. “You’ll be at loss in the end, especially after fucking me like you wanted to,” you grip his wrist, “So, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and I’ll let you fuck me stupid. How does that sound?” You grin.

“Little bitch.” Wonwoo scoffs and puts your mouth back on his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look so damn pretty.” Vernon moans on the side, his own pants long unbuttoned, hand stroking his pre-cum coated dick. 

Your eyes flit to the younger man and you send him a wink, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo.

“Eyes on me, brat. And you,” he snaps his head towards Vernon, “You better not fucking cum until I say so.”

“S-Sir, I won’t-”

“Don’t. Fucking. Cum.” He repeats with something akin to a growl.

“Fuck, I won’t!” Vernon whines in defeat, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, his hand slowing down to keep himself on edge.

You moan around Wonwoo’s cock, nails digging in the fabric of his pants as you hollow your cheeks and do your best to bring him closer to his orgasm.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum- You better swallow every last drop like you do with him, princess.” 

You bat your eyelashes to let him know you’re ready and he presses your head until you’ve taken him till the base. You can feel the saltiness of his cum coursing down your throat. You pin your eyes on Wonwoo and stare at him until you’ve sucked his cock clean, swallowing till the last drop.

He retracts his hand and lets you get off his lap, whispering a few words in your ear, low enough to not be heard by anyone else.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but I really need to fucking cum and I don’t want to bust my nut all over the suit.” Vernon half moans, hand gripping his cock tight.

You move between his legs with a sultry smile and engulf his cock with your mouth. It only takes him a few harsh sucking motions of your lips to make him cum, a string of heavy breaths and moans coming out of his mouth.

You release his shaft with an obscene popping sound, opening your mouth to show him the amount of cum in it. You swallow it in one gulp, licking your lips clean.

“Filthy little slut.” Wonwoo clicks his tongue as he tucks himself back in.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Vernon clears his throat and tidies himself as well.

“That was definitely fun,” you sit back on the leather seats and open your purse to take out a pack of wet wipes and clean your hands. A small hair brush follows right after and you fix your hair, as if they were never touched in the first place.

“How is your makeup still intact?” Vernon asks you with narrowed eyes.

“Ever heard of waterproof makeup?” You side eye him.

“As long as Daddy is paying, everything must be on point for his pretty little heiress.” Wonwoo comments. “We’re here, be ready.”

“No need to remind me of my job, Wonwoo.”

As soon as he opens the door of the limousine to help you out, you’re welcomed with countless flashing cameras and microphones shoved in your way, but Vernon rushes next to your side to keep them at a safe distance. 

You put on your finest smile for the cameras, knowing which way to turn your head so the gossip magazines will have only your best shots. 

The noises of the crowd are drowned out once the three of you enter the venue of the gala and your bodyguards double check that everything is okay and you can proceed.

“How ironic to see the two of you being so professional while you were cumming like highschool boys just a few minutes ago.” You giggle.

“How ironic to see you acting like a proper lady after sucking off your security entourage in your daddy’s limousine like a cheap whore.” Wonwoo smirks and you fight back the urge to hit his head with your purse, as you walk over to the table with your assigned seat.

“You didn’t have to be so sassy about it.” Vernon covers his mouth to hide his grin.

“And you should have been more discreet with your visits in her room.” Wonwoo almost snaps at him with a stern look on his face.

“You’re not actually gonna snitch, are you?” The younger man looks at him partially horrified.

Wonwoo’s lips curl in a dirty smirk and he leans into Vernon’s ear.

“As long as you’re willing to stand guard in front of her door all night long while I’m teaching the little brat some manners, then your dirty secret is safe with me.”

Vernon pokes his cheek with his tongue, wishing he was able to shove his fist in Wonwoo’s face.

“So? Are you willing to do that, Chwe?”

“.....Yes sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

[aangell333]

Okay your Spencer smut might be the best I've ever read, could you maybe do one about Spencer absolutely manhandling reader and just like really rough sex. Idk maybe some jealousy or a bad case and he needs to take his anger out on you, just whatever you want.

And like just really rough with like edging and overstimulation and dacryphilia and just very very rough. And maybe some sweet aftercare or something like that

I'm in desperate need for Spencer to fuck me till I'm cum dumb :))

Thank you <33

oh

my god.

first off THANK YOU SWEETIE THATS TOO SWEET OF YOU!!

second off i’ve given the reader a thing I personally have where I kinda cum prematurely during sex 🫠 this means I get overstimulated really easily so I think it’ll pair with what you’re looking for :)

this is utter filth guys. also I KNOWWW some things are unrealistic but they’re hot so shove it.

so sorry this took so long and that the ending feels super rushed 😭

anyways enjoy!

you knew this was wrong.

hooking up with your coworker simply because this case was beating both your asses and sex wasn’t exactly presenting itself to you as a little pink box with a shiny ribbon on top.

the two of you had been going back and forth all day, snapping and jabbing at each other. theories were belittled and intellectuality degraded; everyone knew one of you was about to snap. they expected you to end up going through the dry wall or spencer out of the window.

they would never have expected to… explode in this way.

it was dirty. filthy. you both knew it.

and you both loved it.

he followed close behind you as you entered the hotel room and the door slammed behind him before his hands were all over you. he grabbed you by the upper arms, tugging you harshly into the wall. you hit it with a thud, your head bouncing off it.

you barely had time to get your surroundings before his hand was closing around your neck.

“do you get off on some sick power play to diminish me in front of everyone?” he hissed. “i’ve been doing this for years. you’ve been here for two seconds compared to my experience.”

“wow, prison sure did harden you up, huh. word from the team has it you were a little bitch before,” you could barely get your statement out before his hand was tightening, having you gasping for air as your airways closed up.

“shut the fuck up.” you would’ve snapped back, if you weren’t distracted by your buttons flying everywhere.

the two parts of the front of your now-ruined blouse were clutched in spencer’s hands. his face was the picture of rage, anger simmering in his gorgeous eyes and his lips pursed tightly.

“you asshole!”

“no. you need to be put in your place.”

you’d never been kissed with such ferocity. his lips smushed against yours, pressing them this way and that. it was messy, almost gross the way your tongues intertwined and saliva dripped. spencer pulled your hair from the crown of your head, harshly pulling your head back as his mouth immediately latched onto the column of your neck.

as he sucked and nipped, he pushed your blouse further off your shoulders the lower he went. your own fingers fumbled with his buttons, trying desperately to undo them. once your blouse was on the floor, he pulled away from you, throwing you onto the bed.

“dumb bitch can’t even undo some buttons?” he hissed, ripping your shoes off as you hastily unbuttoned your jeans.

“god, reid, shut up!” you wined as you squirmed your hips and pushed your jeans down.

“such a mouth on you.” he tutted patronisingly, rolling the sleeves of his half-buttoned-up shirt to his elbows and freeing his belt from his pant loops. “I ought to teach you a lesson.”

he chucked his belt onto the bed beside you before forcefully yanking your jeans off. he then grabbed your wrists in one hand, restraining you as he flipped you over. before you knew it, he was sat on the edge of the bed with you over his knee.

“reid!” you exclaimed as he folded his belt in half.

crack.

“ah!” your yelp sounded more like a moan, your ass stinging red.

the juxtaposition of spencer’s soothing hand and scrutinisingly-sweet voice overwhelmed your senses.

“aww, does the brat not know how to take her punishment with fucking dignity? this is what rude little girls get, you understand?” his tone boiled rage in you.

“fuck you.”

crack.

“ah!”

“count it.” he hissed.

“wha- what?”

crack.

“fucking count it!”

“one!”

“good girl.” his tone was condescending, as if he was talking to a misbehaving child trying to turn their behaviour around.

you counted every crack to your skin, your flesh burning as the belt came down on it. you eventually got to ten, your ass glowing red and cheeks tear-streaked. yet, by the time you got to ten, your pussy was soaked.

your hole oozed slick with every crack and caress that spencer administered to your cheeks. you whimpered in his lap, pressing your face into the comforter of the hotel bed.

“you dick.” you whimpered with a sniffle.

a smack to your hot rear had your back arching.

“i’ll show you dick.” spencer snarled.

he spread his legs, pushing you off of him and onto your knees between his. the stark contrast of your naked body and his fully clothed one was enough to have you grinding in your seat. spencer undid his flies and opened them, presenting his cock straining against his boxers to you.

he once again tangled his hand in your hair at the crown of your head before pulling you into his crotch. you let out a muffled whine, pushing on his thighs, but he held you still. you couldn’t move your face from his boxer shorts.

“lick.” he commanded, but you couldn’t hear him over your struggle. “I said, lick.”

it was degrading the way he had you lapping at his clothed cock like a damn dog. your tongue picked up bits of lint from the fabric of his boxers and the spot where his tip was leaking precum was damp and salty. it was disgusting. you couldn’t help but love it.

when your hands came up to the elastic of his boxers, he didn’t stop you from pulling them down. his cock stood up, taking your breath with it.

what he lacked slightly in girth, god damn did he make up for in length. he was huge, intimidating even.

“the fuck are you waiting for? what happened to the cock-hungry bitch licking my cock a second ago?” his words probed at something inside of you and you curled your hand around his cock, squeezing.

and god did you want to capture that breathy moan and head tilt that he released and keep it forever.

but his mood quickly shifted as his hands gripped your hair and shoved your face down onto his cock. gags, whimpers and tears left you as he hammered his cock into your throat, his pace relentless and bruising.

“god, this shut you up, huh? I should have you like this more often. bet you’d love it if I shut you up by shoving my cock into your mouth in the middle or the office, huh? show hotch and morgan what a slut you are for my cock. yeah? you want that attention?” he was mocking you! god knows what compelled you to hum and nod in agreement. “fucking whore. oh, look at you! fucking touching yourself?”

his cock was pulled out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting you to it. ignoring your coughs and splutters, he manoeuvred his leg between yours, angling it so his shin rubbed deliciously against your core.

“wha- what are you doing?” you asked him, voice slightly hoarse.

“if you wanna get off so bad, you can hump my leg like the bitch you are!” he laughed.

anger flooded you, your nails biting into his calf and a frown coming over your face.

“no.”

“oh!”

his leg jolting up to meet your core had you moaning loudly. and you couldn’t help yourself. you started chasing that feeling, hips working overtime as you fully humped dr spencer reid’s leg. that was still covered by his stupid pants!

“aww, aren’t you just a needy bitch?” his tone was condescending, mocking as he lazily stroked his cock like you were simply porn material. you shook your head, prompting him to begin bouncing his leg up to meet your core. “come on, tell me what a needy bitch you are.”

“I’m a needy bitch,” you whispered out.

you found your arms wrapping around his leg as you pressed your whole body to him, still humping him.

“louder.” he ordered.

“I’m a needy bitch!” your voice is pitchy and whiny, almost screaming when he begins rocking his leg up to meet your sensitive clit.

you didn’t have to hump for long before you found your core tightening and your breathing becoming more laboured. you whimpered out how close you were, causing spencer to pull his leg from under you. the loss of balance had you falling into his knee, face smushing against the bony structure.

“wha…” you whimpered sadly as spencer pouted down at you with faux-sympathy.

“aww, is the little bitch all sad she can’t cum?” he asked condescendingly, making you sit straight again.

you sat in front of him on your knees, looking up at him with an angry pout. deciding to take matters into your own hands and stop waiting for his every order, you crawled to turn yourself around, revealing your back to him.

“what are you doing, huh?” he murmured.

you didn’t say anything, only lifting your ass up and down a few times as if you were shaking your ass on a dick. you felt it jiggle, looking back at him with a smirk. his pupils were blown and his hand loose around his cock.

“pet…” he warned and you took your chances.

still on the floor, you fell forward and pushed your ass into the air as you manoeuvred yourself into the deepest arch. you whined loudly as you did so, exposing your gooey, drooling hole to him. where you were sat, a wet patch glistened and the thin string connected to the carpet and your hole snapped. you heard spencer sigh shakily and squirmed on the bed. the sound of a zipper going back up sounded, the rustling of a button returning back to its hole.

only that’s where you’re wrong. he wasn’t squirming, he was standing.

three long fingers pushed easily into your hole, making you scream out. he kneeled over you, almost mounting you as he fingerfucked you. he was relentless, curling and uncurling his fingers at an ungodly speed. your slick dripped down his hand, sprayed over his forearm with the force of his movements and squelched loudly.

“trying to tease me?” he draped his body over yours as he hissed in your ear.

you whined pathetically, hips pushing back to meet his hand. he didn’t stop and you felt your orgasm drawing closer.

“oh god! oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m close!” you yelled out, only for his fingers to remove from your body. “wha- reid!”

“aww, I know. it’s hard being teased, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone as condescending as ever. you whimpered as you felt your orgasm dissolve.

and he plunged his fingers back in your pussy, grinning and laughing when you screamed out and your eyes rolled back. his fingers sped up and up and up until they stopped again.

each time you got close, he would stop touching you all together. he knelt over you and laughed as you begged and babbled pathetically. he was practically mounting you, you hadn’t even realise he’d pulled his cock out.

“you wanna cum, baby?” he asked, chuckling when you nodded and babbled pathetically. “of course you do.”

it was that night that you realised, you’d never experienced true pleasure until you had spencer reid fucking you like a madman.

his pace was relentless, bruising and wild. his hips slammed against your already sore ass and his tip bullied your cervix. tears rolled down your face, making him laugh.

“my little toy looks so pretty when she cries! aw, what’s the matter, princess?” he cooed mockingly in your ear.

“feels- feels so- so good…” you could hardly speak, hardly form a thought. it was too much.

you were cumming before you knew it, coating his cock in your cream. he laughed mockingly at you, hand coming down to draw little circles on your clit. you screamed and spasmed, knees giving up on you as you fell to the floor. he held you up by your hips, almost completely suspending your lower half.

“can’t even hold yourself up.” he grunted.

with one arm wrapped around your middle and the other hand at your clit, he chased his own orgasm in a haze of blinding hot pleasure. yet, you were cumming again before he was, your squirt splashing out onto his legs.

“oh, sweetheart! squirting all over me?” he laughed delightedly. “what a good girl. fuck, baby, I’m- hah- I’m close. gonna come inside. gonna- ha-ah- fill you up- fuck- yeah- claim you-”

his seed spilled into you in thick, copious amounts. you felt him fill you, your tummy swelling a little with the amount he was pumping into you.

“thank you, doctor,” you whimpered out, feeling all hazy and fuzzy.

he was panting above you, head thrown back in exhaustion.

“good girl. my good girl,” he murmured breathlessly. “let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

you’d never been pampered as nicely as you were that night.

*~*~*

“ah! spencer! ah!” derek moaned at you, high pitched and over dramatic, as you place his coffee down on his borrowed desk.

you frowned, trying to keep a straight face.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’d rather you kept your sexual fantasies to yourself. I think that’s something you discuss with reid,” you sniped.

“I think you discusssd a lot with reid last night,” he smirked. “oh my god! just like that spencer!”

“someone clearly wasn’t paying attention. he likes it when I call him doctor.” you say, stalking away.

from his seat opposite derek, spencer grinned at him in a way that clearly said: “yeah. she’s mine.”

@wietske27

[yanderenightmare]

Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience. 

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex. 

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat. 

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again. 

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches. 

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

[hoshifighting]

the combo face sitting + jun has been driving me crazy these days...😵‍💫

jun + eating you out + face riding

WARNINGS: smut, oral (f. rec), slight nose bumping.

nothing else makes sense more than jun and his obsession with cunnulingus. MAINLY WHEN WHERE TALKING ABOUT FACE RIDING. they way he would practically beg for it. like, straight-up desperate, eyes all wide and glistening like you're the goddamn answer to everything he's ever needed. he’s not subtle about it either. one minute, y’all are just chillin’, minding your business, watching something dumb on tv, and the next, he’s sliding down, making himself real comfortable between your legs like it's his personal mission to stay there forever.

“let me,” he’d say, but it’s not really a question, more like a fucking command wrapped in a plea, and it’s almost funny how fast your brain short-circuits. but then, it’s not funny anymore. because he’s there, hands already gripping your thighs, spreading you wide like he’s staking his claim. he’d look up at you, all smug and pretty, as if he knows exactly how this is gonna go. and let’s be honest, he does. you’re not fooling anyone.

you don't even get a word in before he’s on it, licking a slow stripe up like he’s savoring every inch, and you gotta bite your lip to stop that loud ass moan from slipping out. but he doesn’t let up. that’s the thing with jun—he goes all in, no half-assing anything. the way his tongue flicks, sucks, swirls, he’s got this whole damn rhythm down, and it’s like... fuck, how does he know exactly where to go?

“fuck, jun,” you whimper, and it just eggs him on, makes him groan against you like he’s the one getting off on this. he’s got this way of moaning, like he’s fucking worshipping you, and yeah, maybe that’s what this is. face buried between your thighs, his fingers digging in like he's afraid you'll float away or some shit.

“you taste so good,” he mutters between breaths, like he’s giving you a fucking status update or something, but you can barely hear it over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“shit, you're... so fucking—” you try to say something, but words? yeah, those don't really exist anymore.

and then—because of course—he pulls back, just to smirk up at you. “why’re you holding back? lemme hear you,” he murmurs.

you take a second, but not long enough for him to lose that cocky look on his face—not that it matters, 'cause you’re already losing your damn mind with the way he’s licking you up like it’s his last meal. so, you’re like, fuck it, and push yourself up, legs shaky as hell, and he gets it. immediately.

jun doesn’t even say a word, just slides down to the floor, like he’s been waiting for you to get the hint. he leans his head back against the edge of the couch, eyes hooded, and he’s already grabbing at your hips like he's starving. “come on, sit on my face,” he says, voice all low and rough, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like it doesn’t already have you soaking wet with how casual he is about it.

you don't need to be told twice.

you swing your leg over, feeling a little bold now 'cause that smug look he gives you every time, yeah, that shit works in reverse too. you sink down slowly, feeling the heat of his breath against you, and the second you're down, he groans—right against you. that noise alone makes you bite back a gasp.

jun’s hands find your ass immediately, pulling you down further, and you’re a goner. first, he presses his tongue flat against your clit, letting the pressure build for a second, like he’s letting you feel it. then, he switches it up, flicking fast, almost lazy, but it hits just right. too right. “fucking—shit, jun,” you moan, no point in holding it back now. he's too good, and he knows it.

you can feel his fingers kneading into your skin, a soft contrast to the way his tongue’s moving, slow, fast, and then he’s sucking, full-on wrapping his lips around you and pulling you down further until you’re grinding against him. he alternates between flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue and then pressing hard with the flat of it, it’s... it's insane. he’s got this way of hitting every nerve, every sensitive spot, like he knows your body better than you do.

you look down, and the sight of him—eyes half-closed, pupils blown out, his mouth working you like it’s all he cares about. his perfect nose bumps against you every now and then, making you grind down harder. his eyes flutter open for a second, just to catch yours, and he smirks against you before diving right back in, tongue flicking faster, more deliberate.

“god, you’re so—” you can barely breathe, your thighs are shaking around his head, and all he does is groan again, loud and shameless.

and when he slides his tongue down a bit, lower, licking a stripe between your folds, before swirling back up to your clit? fuck, you almost see stars. his tongue goes back to flicking, quick, focused, and then he’s sucking again, hard, like he's pulling every damn sound out of you, and you’re not even trying to stop it anymore.

“ride it, baby,” he murmurs, voice muffled but clear enough. "just... fuck, ride my face."

[moonlightndaydreams]

What do you think Dom Channie's favorite things to do to you are (w a fem y/n) if he was given a choice to do whatever?

This is not an exhaustive list. The more I thought about it, the more ideas would come. I had to rein it in.

MDNI // SMUT

Video you masturbating in front of him. He’ll direct you to sit on his bed, leaning on his headboard. He keeps you dressed in your little black skirt and long socks. “That’s it babygirl. Open your legs for me.” He licks his lip as he hits record on his phone. He sits in his computer chair, pumping his cock with his free hand. “Now, pull your panties to the side. Show daddy your pretty little pussy… that’s it…just like that.” He’ll record you playing with yourself. Then he’ll do another of his favourite things…

Edge you. He stops you from playing with yourself once you’re close to climax, so he can climb on top of you, and push his fat cock into your tightness. He likes to squeeze inside you when you’re on the verge of coming because you’re so wet, swollen and engorged. You suck him in and grip him tight. He continues to video you, focusing now on your face now so he can capture your flushed cheeks and pornographic moans. “Such a good fucking girl. Who’s my pretty little personal porn star…hmm?”, “I should show this to the boys… they’ll probably fuck into their hands watching you.”

Finger fuck you in public. You’re only allowed to wear skirts and dresses so he has access to your pussy whenever he needs to feel you. He’s known to get you to spread your legs in the passenger seat of his car so he can slip his fingers into you while he drives. Too bad if you’re stopped next to a bus at traffic lights, because he’s not going to stop. He’ll wind the window down so if someone looks down from the window of the bus they’ll see it all. At the club he’ll get you to sit on his lap and finger fuck you the entire time. “You’re not going anywhere, babygirl. Not until you cream on my fingers”. Same at the movies. Your parents house at the dinner table. On a flight. On a train. Anywhere really.

Fuck you in department store changing rooms. He’s a sick fuck. He gets you to sample a perfume from the perfume section, then choose a pretty bra or skimpy outfit to try on… then he’ll slip into the change room and fuck you dumb against the mirror. “Listen to how wet you are…the people in the next cubicle know you’re being fucked like you’re a little cockslut.” If there’s a bench or seat in there he’ll get you to ride him. Of course the phone comes out to video you, propping it up in the corner and capturing you riding him. Then, when his done he gets you to return the clothes to the staff member manning the change rooms, knowing they heard the whole thing.

Adorns you with a ball gag and collar when he wants to fuck your ass. With your face pushed into the mattress, he takes his time to prep you properly. Then he fucks you from behind, spanking your ass hard with his hand as pounds into you. With your mouth gagged you can’t tell him to stop, and he won’t stop until he’s good and ready and you have tears streaming down your face.

Fuck your pussy no prep. As much as he loves to fuck you after he’s edged you, he also loves to bend you over the back of the couch, or table, or up against a wall, and push his cock into your cunt without much warning. He loves it because you love it. Your cunt feels so tight as your walls try to accommodate him. Turns out you love a bit of pain. And it turns him on hearing you struggle to take it. “Naww…It hurts doesn’t it, babygirl?” He’ll say as he continues to push further into you. You cry out of from the sting. You cry out because he pushes against your cervix. It’s like he’s not going to fit. But he makes it fit. All it takes is two thrusts and you’re soaking wet and then he can really fuck you hard. “Such a sick little girl, loves it when daddy hurts her.”

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @chansbabyg @kangnina

@itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics

[princessbrunette]

would bountyhunter!rafe ever comfort you when you’re crying about missing home?

i feel like he’d be weirded out the first couple times but eventually it’d be normal for you to fall asleep in his arms

｡•┈🎀┈• ｡ﾟ

yeah, he acts all reluctant about it but he’s not totally emotionless or anything. there is a weight of guilt on his chest when he sees you all curled up by the window at the shitty little motel the two of you were holed up in. he’d been out to get a bottle of whisky — treating himself after all the strife he’d been putting himself through with this whole bounty hunting thing.

as soon as he arrives back into the room you jump up, like you’re scared of being caught crying. quickly, you paw at your eyes — sniffing up as much snot as you can as you face him nervously, swaying on your feet with wide eyes like you were expecting him to be furious with you. he slows his pace, eyeing you over.

“you were crying?” he asks as if it’s not obvious and you look away, swiping beneath your eye once more.

“jus’ had something in my eye.” you croak, heart pounding with the realisation that lying might just get you in more trouble. “dont be mad.” you utter quietly like a prayer.

“i’m not—” he realises he projected his voice just a tad too loud because you tense up, and he sighs— pushing his floppy hair out of his face. “i’m not mad. i just want to know why. was — was it me? did i say some dumb shit?” he approaches you carefully, holding his hands up when you cower slightly to show he comes in peace.

“no.” you shake your head quickly. the last thing you wanted to do was accuse him of anything, grateful of the fact he’d somewhat treated you fairly despite being the one to steal you from your land. “i… i feel homesick. i miss my father… and i miss the barn, and my sheep, and all my chickens. i miss my horse and the cows. i’m so far from home.” you stare out the window, fat droplets wobbling on the precipice of your eye.

rafe sighs, scratching at his cheek awkwardly — unsure of what he’s supposed to say. after all you were homesick because of him. he wasn’t supposed to like you, nor were you particularly supposed to like him — but there had been moments of comfort you’d found in eachother, oddly enough — and now he had really grown attached to you, debating marrying you to keep you for himself.

“yeah…” he drawls, nodding and staring at the back of you for a moment as he perches on the edge of the bed. “shit, look— c’mere.” he beckons, and you do so. you suppose you’re just being obedient to stay out of trouble, but it was undeniable that you craved his comfort. craved him.

he pulls you to sit on his leg, a hand supporting your back. “suppose i should apologise for all… this. i— i didn’t wanna have to take anyone okay it’s… its just my dad is a very powerful man. my whole life i’ve been second best to my sister and… i wanted to show him that i could do what he does. now i’ve done the job and — and it has these real life consequences and i don’t enjoy that trust me, but… what’s done is done. i’ve got you now. i… will get you a new barn. a better one. with more sheep and cows and shit. alright?”

maybe you were too empathetic, because in that moment for the first time you felt kind of sorry for rafe. he wasn’t as big and scary as he usually was. he actually seemed kind of lonely, and insecure. it wouldn’t undo the hurt he’s caused, the fact that it was very unlikely you’d see your father again — but it brought you some comfort to know you were hurting together. you sniffle, nodding in understanding and he sighs again, pulling you into him. “c’mon. stop that.” he jogs his leg a little, comforting you like you were a baby, the only way he knew how.

｡•┈🎀┈• ｡ﾟ

[pxuvalentinx]

tags: aventurine x fem reader, nsfw, f!ngering, tiny degradation, fake empathy, edging, hand fetish‼️

a/n: i’m so sorry omgg, i’ve been so busy and tbh also not really motivated to finish any of my drafts. but to feed my starved children (you all) i cooked up some quick aven smut (in the span of 20 minutes). i got one more aven fic in my drafts but it’s kinda a fail ngl, it’s basically the pt2 to the aventurine gunplay thingie i wrote. so do let me know if you’d like to read that😭😭 as always, reqs are open🫶

Aventurine, one of the most talented men when it came to coin tricks. He’d always try to impress you with them, showing you how easily the coin would move from left to right and right to left, slipping so smoothly in between his gloved fingers. And you had to admit, it was indeed very impressive. You tried it once or twice, but without success. Aventurine would always just grin at you, talking about how your little hands just aren’t as talented as his. It would make you slightly pout, asking him to teach you, but he would just turn it down, saying he’d teach you another time.

You loved his hands anyway, slim and long fingers, short nails and a soft palm — whenever he wasn’t wearing those gloves at least. If he was, rings would decorate his hands even more, the gold shining and sparkling as he pushed your hips down. His fingers were hidden in your cunt, curling and thrusting. He didn’t even take off his glove before practically shoving his hand inside you, the fabric feeling rough and soft at the same time, creating a whole new sensation.

He’d always comment on how wet your pussy is, on how nicely it squeezes around his fingers, on how stupidly easy you go dumb only from his hand. Aventurine’s thumb was on your clit, pressing down on it whenever his fingers thrusted into you. The poor people in the hotel room next to you, having to hear your stupid cries and pleas for mercy all night long, all because Aventurine was just a little too talented with his hands.

He fucking loved bringing you to the edge just to deny you again, showing fake empathy. “Poor thing..Let’s try again, shall we?” His pants felt way too tight at this exact moment, watching you beg and beg and beg, while your cunt ruins his gloves and soaks even the skin underneath.

Eventually he would let you cum. Eventually he’d finally stop teasing you so much, and move his fingers in scissoring motions one last time before feeling you explode all over his hand. His other hand was intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing circular motions over the back of your hand, while the other just abused your insides even further.

How silly that it all started with a little:”What other tricks do you have in store?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Smile Like You Mean It 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, humiliation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Colin Shea, Rafe Cameron (Professor AU)

Summary: you're trying to grow up but you keep getting pushed back down.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

College is supposed to be a new start. You're supposed to be an adult. Sophisticated and mature. Too bad you're still figuring out how to be functional. 

It's all the more obvious how behind you are as you sit in the student centre with a can of diet coke. Alone. Watching. Coveting. 

The girls, no, women, with their contour and lululemons and blown out hair. They walk together, gabbing and giggling, with a Stanley or branded coffee cup in hand. They are of the moment and you're once more falling behind. 

You look down at you Gap hoodie and polka dot leggings. Admittedly, the Walmart couture isn't exactly cutting edge. And your crocks don't do much for the look. Or your hair and bare face.  

It isn't for lack of trying. No oil or serum could tame the beast on your head, and you couldn't figure out how to line your lids without squiggles. So you settled for the bare minimum. Hygiene and clean clothes. Hmmm, you did wear the hoodie yesterday too. 

You're trying but that doesn't mean it's good enough.  You put your head down and stare at the curled red C on the can. Well, the year's just started, you can make some good friends... just maybe not the barbie dolls. 

As you take another sip of soda, a figure walks by but is met with catastrophe. His bag catches on the back of the empty chair across from you and he reels back. You watch him untangle himself and his pale blue eye flick up to meet yours. 

He wears one of those blue letterman jackets you've seen around. A jock or frat or both. They are often chasing the heels of the glamorous coeds. 

"Oh, hey," he chuckles as he fixes his messenger bag, "I'm a mess, huh?" 

You shake your head. You can't get the words out; 'it's fine' or even a congenial 'so am I'. You can't even muster a smile. That's your other problem. You go mute in the face of interest. 

"You okay? Did I scare ya?" He asks as he drags his hand over his fluffy blond hair. 

You just blink. Say something, idiot. 

"I'm not always mess," he smirks as he grips the back of the chair. Why is he hanging around? "I'm Colin, actually." 

You can't help but crack. Your cheek dimple and one corner of your lips curve. That's a really stupid joke. 

"And you are, sunshine?" He leans forward. 

You look around. It feels off. It has to be a joke, right? There's nothing but milling bodies and chattering students. 

"Auburn," you voice scratches in your throat. 

"Auburn," he purrs back, "I like that." He smirks, "hey, Aubby," his shoulders slant, "can I sit here? This place is packed." 

You stare at him and shrug. You can't say anything but you definitely can't say no. He winks and drops into the seat, dumping his bag on the floor next to his feet. 

"So, you going to the party tonight?" He asks. 

You frown. Party? You shake your head again.  

"No? Why not? Everyone's going." He says.  

Not me. I'm not cool. You just show your hands as your voice stays stuck in your chest. 

"Huh, too good for us? I get it. You got more important things to do than stop by Delta. I can accept that, Aubby. I'm used to it," he pouts, "all the pretty girls say no." 

Pretty? You try not to make a face. You take a drink of coke. You can do it. 

"I... wasn't invited," you utter. 

"Ah, there's that sweet voice," he leans forward on his elbows. "Well, babe, I'm inviting you. So how about it?" 

You stare back at him. Again. Boy, he’s going to think you’re real dumb. You purse your lips and nod. Why not? You’ve been looking for friends. This isn’t going to be high school all over again. 

Well, you can start by wearing something a little less... schlubby to this party. 

He smiles and slaps the table, “see, I knew when I looked at you that you were the one. Here, I’ll get your number and send you the details.” 

You take your phone out and hand it over. The case is scuffed and tan. It’s not sparkly like the ones you’ve seen in the manicured hands of the other girls on campus. He doesn’t seem to notice as he types with his wide thumbs. He gives it back and sends you another wink. 

“See ya tonight, Aubby,” he stands. “I gotta make sure there’s enough drinks so can’t stick around.” He bends to pick up his bag. “You’re not gonna stand me up, are ya?” You shake your head once more. He grins and snaps his fingers. “Later.” 

As he leaves, your eyes wander around the cafeteria. You see a girl in grey converse and a hoodie kinda like yours. She’s not watching where she’s going. She walks right into a man in a suit, her coffee spilling across his back. He rears on her as you watch on as a silent witness. 

He snarls and she babbles back. He stalks off angrily and she stands there blankly. She forgets almost immediately as she looks at the container in her hand. She’s the first girl you’ve seen that doesn’t make you want to hide. 

You get up and grab some napkins on your way over. You approach her as her coffee drips down her hand. You offer it quietly and she flinches as she notices. 

“Oh, jeez, thanks,” she chuckles. “Can ya hold this for me?” You nod and take her container. She balances the coffee as she wipes the side and her fingers. “I’m fucking idiot sometimes. I was so focus on the noodles.” Her eyes skitter around, “shit fuck, this place is crowded, huh?” 

She looks at you as she crumples the napkin and reaches out. You hand over the container. She narrows her eyes. 

“Quiet, huh? Well, shit, I just can’t stop talking,” she tuts. 

“Um...” you swallow tightly. “I got a table...” you point back to where you left your stuff. 

She tilts her head, “thanks, that’s nice but... okay. I guess things can’t get any worse.” 

You perk up and turn around to lead the way. If you can get a few more words out, you might just be able to call it a successful day. 

“I’m Ash, by the way,” she says as she sets her things down and you sit across from her. 

“Auburn,” you return. 

“Ash and Auburn. One more and we could be musketeers or something,” she kids as she settles in.