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heartseungs-archive · 6 months ago

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dance to this | l.hc

word count: 3.8k | genre: dancer! haechan x dancer! reader, university au, slight enemies to lovers | warnings: none

Donghyuck is an ace. He knows this from the way Taeyong chooses him to be the centre of too many of their performances, and the way too many of his clips have gone viral online.

Donghyuck is annoying. He knows this from the way Doyoung groans in exasperation at every one of his stupid pranks, or when Mark finally loses his patience and shouts across the room at the top of his voice.

But above all of that, Donghyuck is very, very competitive. He doesn’t make it obvious, but the need to win is always simmering beneath the surface, especially for the things that matter. He knows this because you are always there, in his peripheral vision, reminding Donghyuck that he needs to be better than you.

You’re an ace too, even if Donghyuck doesn’t want to admit it. The entirety of the Yonsei male student population is likely in love with you and has posters hung up in their room. You’re also annoying, or at least Donghyuck thinks so. He’s sure the rest of the team would disagree, but you’ve got them wrapped around your finger.

“I’m not partnering with someone who can’t even moonwalk properly,” he bites, and you glare back at him.

“Says the one who tore his jeans at rehearsal last year trying to do a split.”

“That was just because the jeans were too tight. I assure you I am fully capable of doing a split.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see it then. See, you’re hesitating-”

“Guys! For the love of God, can the two of you cut it out? It’s like I’m dealing with two toddlers.” Taeyong stands in front of you and Donghyuck, looking frazzled as always. Next to him is Karina, who simply rolls her eyes. Taeyong is no stranger to you and Donghyuck bickering at all hours of the day, but he’s especially tired with the upcoming recital. For that sole reason, the both of you fall silent like sullen children, looking at him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, and Taeyong smiles gently at you.

“It’s fine. We just really need this performance to go well, okay? And the both of you doing a duet will garner the most attention.”

Donghyuck sends a pointed look to Karina, who nods in assent. He sighs dramatically, enough for you to cast a sharp glance over. The dance studio is empty save for the four of them, everyone else not yet here. “Okay.”

“Me too. I’m in if Donghyuck cooperates,” you reply, and Taeyong breaks out in the most brilliant smile you’ve ever seen, lighting up his entire face.

“What do you mean if I cooperate? You’re literally the most argumentative person I’ve ever met-”

Taeyong's smile quickly disappears.

However, Karina puts a hand on the small of his back, guiding him out of the room, and the door slamming shut cuts Donghyuck’s spiel short. Just before you can send another jab Donghyuck’s way, however, Mark and Jaehyun come in, while Ningning and Giselle follow quickly after.

It’s time for practice, and you suppose there’s another thing Donghyuck can add to the list. That the both of you are professional enough to keep the childish comments outside of your actual work, and you suppose it’s the only reason Karina hasn’t bought duct tape to forcibly mute the both of you yet.

You’re sitting on the floor, out of breath and with a light sheen of sweat on your face when Donghyuck’s performance starts. Well, it’s a team performance, really, but your eyes are always on him. Compared to the majority of his audience, though, your gaze is always assessing, not admiring. His dynamics, control, sharpness, everything. You sear his image into your brain, just to compare it to your own movements in the mirror later.

Still, there’s a fluidity to Donghyuck that you’ve never been able to replicate perfectly, as much as you try. It’s something so distinct to him, the way he moves across the floor like he’s walking on water. It takes your breath away, but you’ll never tell him that. Just like how he’ll never admit that you’re much better than him at capturing details in dances, and the way you do it makes standing out effortless.

The way your sharp eyes follow Donghyuck as he moves seamlessly across the room makes him weirdly determined to make this the best performance yet. Your presence is a source of pressure, but Donghyuck performs well under pressure anyways.

The sky is quickly turning a midnight blue when Taeyong calls an end to the practice, and everyone’s made a temporary home on the wooden floor of the dance studio. It’s a familiar and comforting sight, seeing some of them on their phones, others lying on the couch, or going through their routines in the corner.

This is what makes up Donghyuck’s world. The four walls of the dance studio. Of course, he supposes his degree in Business is one integral part of his life, but it’s so much less exciting for him. Donghyuck derives an enormous amount of exhilaration from every minute, every second that he’s on the stage, spotlight shining.

He’s one of the last to leave, waving to Taeyong and Karina who give him a cursory greeting in return. They work so much harder than the rest of the team to perfect the formations, and Donghyuck’s sure that they’re both bound to get together at some point. He’s never seen two people more similar.

Other than you and him, maybe.

That’s the exact thought running through his head as he strolls past the exit of the building and turns a corner to the familiar alleyway. You’re leaning under a streetlight, phone in hand and earbuds plugged in. Your features are delicate, and the blue glare of the phone reflects off your face.

Besides being annoyingly talented and competitive, Donghyuck is also in love with you.

There was a time when he genuinely disliked you. Three years ago, when he couldn’t understand why someone new was being accepted into the dance team and was sharing the position of centre with him. If he looked back now, the Donghyuck back then would seem so very immature, nothing more than a boy afraid of being replaced.

It took him a while to realise that he didn’t mind. Enjoyed it, actually. The fact that someone else understood the burden of being under the spotlight, the responsibility of heightening the team’s energy and bringing out the very soul of the performance. You were also immensely capable and pushed Donghyuck to do better. Be better.

Somewhere along the line, dislike changed into grudging admiration, to a tentative friendship, and then into butterflies that fluttered wildly in Donghyuck’s stomach every time you looked at him.

And then one night, all it took was a few too many bottles of soju and the empty dance studio for him to take that very final leap. The both of you had stumbled out of the arts faculty building afterwards, tipsy and giggling. It’s still one of Donghyuck’s favourite memories that he has of you, clinging onto him and refusing to go into your dorm building.

There are very few feelings that surpass the pride that Donghyuck feels when he finishes a routine perfectly. However, one of them is the feeling of your lips on his. The other is the way you look when you wake in the morning, eyes half-lidded and hair messy.

And of course, like some cliche trope, the both of you had not yet told the rest of the team of these… not-so-recent developments. And the longer you went, the easier it was to just pretend there was no real need to tell them. After all, it’s not like you and Donghyuck didn’t argue anymore, if not made obvious by the events of the afternoon. It was just that the bickering was now purely for entertainment, and the both of you acted much sappier to make up for it when no one was watching.

There was a fear that the knowledge would just bewilder most of them, considering the fact that they thought the both of you disliked each other vehemently. Karina also did mention that workplace relationships were strictly not allowed, even though she technically had no right if 1. none of you were on her payroll and 2. she had the biggest crush on Taeyong.

“Hey there,” Donghyuck says, smiling, as he grabs an earbud and places it in his other ear so that he can still hear anything you say clearly.

“Hello. Tired?” You ask as you interlace your fingers with his, but not before casting a quick glance around your surroundings. He shakes his head, and the both of you remain in a comfortable silence until you’re seated comfortably in his car with the heater on at full blast. It’s the middle of winter, and as much as you enjoy the snow, the chill also gets bone-deep. You grab the blanket from its familiar spot in the back of the car, tugging it over your legs.

Donghyuck’s apartment is far enough from campus to not be crowded, but it’s not so isolated that it’s inconvenient. You find yourself spending a lot more time at his apartment these days, so much that you almost have an entire shelf in the closet that stores your clothes.

“You should move in,” he had said one day, after the both of you finished a movie. You definitely wouldn’t mind. After all, living with Donghyuck would be comfortable. He did have a tendency to scatter his clothes all over the room, but he was mostly tidy. He also didn’t mind doing the dishes, and the only real problem you would have would be him singing at the top of his voice at all hours of the day. Even that was more enjoyable than annoying.

“How can I move in if you have the guys over almost every week to game? We’d get found out in no time,” you replied from where you were standing at the fridge, and Donghyuck muttered something like we can just tell them, then, but you were unsure if you had heard him right.

“Did you say something?” You asked, looking at him expectantly. However, Donghyuck didn’t say anything, instead smiling at you, and you tried to hide the disappointment that welled up in you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Donghyuck’s question jolts you out of your recollections, and you shake your head. His hand is interlocked with yours and rests gently on your lap, even though you’ve told him before that he should try to keep both hands on the wheel. However, the roads are deserted this time of night, so you suppose you’ll let him have his way.

The moment you enter his house, you’re quick to collapse on his couch and close your eyes, but you’re immediately dragged off. “Ouch,” you mutter when you land unceremoniously on the carpet, but Donghyuck just grins. “You need to shower, and so do I. Unless you want to sleep on the couch tonight.”

“The both of us know you would be the one sleeping on the couch anyways,” you retort, and Donghyuck just rolls his eyes before he passes you a towel and extra clothes. His sweatpants, and a band tee that's a little too small on him.

You have five sets of your own clothing folded neatly on the second shelf of his closet on the right. Even then, you take his.

An hour later, you’re scrolling on your phone when Donghyuck comes out of the bathroom, towel round his neck. He’s quick to make his way over to the couch, and you move your phone out of the way before he can accidentally knock it over.

“You big baby,” you scold half-heartedly as he sprawls over you, legs tangled with yours. He hums contentedly from where his face is nestled into your shoulder, and you try not to smile.

“Donghyuck.”

“Hm?” He places a soft kiss on your neck, and your fingers fiddle with his hair. It’s getting longer, you realise, since the last time you cut it for him. It had taken a few too many video tutorials, but you were getting better at it. Not that a bad haircut would ruin Donghyuck’s looks anyways. However, when your first attempt had not been so ideal, he had taken it upon himself to be your personal make-up artist. Your relationship with Donghyuck has always been like that. Push-for-pull. Neither of you is the kind of person to back down, but you suppose that’s what makes being with him so exciting.

“Can you make me ramen?” You can feel it when Donghyuck huffs, and he raises his head to look at you. “Is that all I’m good for? I feel like I’m a personal chef instead of your boyfriend.”

You nod, making your expression as serious and earnest as possible. Still, he gives in and gets up, making his way over to the kitchen. You’re quick to follow him, however, grabbing everything he needs. It’s a routine at this point. You’re in charge of ingredients, Donghyuck overseeing cooking.

You grab a vinyl from the tall shelf next to the television, placing it gently into the gramophone. This is one of Donghyuck’s favourite records, and you find yourself humming to it as well as the music filters gently out. You remember his expression of awe when he had opened your present on his birthday.

“Y/N, you didn’t.”

“I did. You can’t possibly have that many records and no gramophone to play them.”

“But this is so expensive.”

“It was just a bunch of extra shifts at the cafe,” had been your nonchalant reply, and Donghyuck’s eyes were soft when he looked up at you, almost glistening. The both of you were seated on the floor, the cake half-eaten on Donghyuck's table that both functioned as a study area and a place to eat.

“Thank you, Y/N. But,” Donghyuck leans over, until he’s barely centimetres from you. His lips are next to your ear, and you can hear your breath hitch.

“I’ll get you an even better present next year. You know me. I can’t lose.” His grin is full of mirth now, and you scoff.

“Even for this?”

“Even for this.”

“It’s still in such good condition,” you mumble to yourself as your fingers brush over the lacquered wood.

“Of course it is. You gave it to me.” You didn’t realize Donghyuck had heard you, but his comment causes your heartbeat to speed up just slightly. The pot is simmering gently on the stove, and Donghyuck turns to look at you. Here, away from the glaring fluorescent lights of the studio, is your favourite version of Donghyuck. Not the dance team’s ace, the mini campus celebrity, but your Donghyuck.

Of course, you love the other versions of him too. But this, the Donghyuck standing under his kitchen lights with grey sweatpants and messy hair, is a sight that belongs to you and you only. And god forbid that he's not the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life.

You make your way over to him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Donghyuck isn’t that much taller than you, but in close proximity, he still cranes his neck down to meet your gaze directly. His arms wrap around your waist instinctively, and you can feel the warmth that radiates from his palms through the thin shirt you’re wearing.

“What’s with the sudden affection?” He asks, and you lean into his chest, eyes closed. “Nothing. I just like you. A lot.” The way his chest rumbles slightly tells you that he’s trying to hide a chuckle, but you know Donghyuck enjoys the sweet words, even if he teases you about it.

“Dance with me.” It’s an odd request, considering the both of you are tired out from practice, but you nod, and Donghyuck smiles.

“Wait, but the music. Shouldn’t we change it?”

“No, it’s fine. We can just dance to this.”

Donghyuck pulls you away from the stove and nearer to the couch, where there’s open space. It’s less dancing, and more of a poorly-imitated ballroom waltz. The both of you had only taken one waltz lesson during the team's annual retreat, when Taeyong had thought it a good idea to ‘diversify genres’. However, after Jaehyun had narrowly avoided crashing into a glass display and Chenle caused the team to receive a noise complaint, you suppose Taeyong had scrapped any further ideas of forcing everyone to take mandatory lessons.

It was memorable to you for an entirely different reason, however. It was the first time you began to see Donghyuck in a different light, being forced to partner with him for all three days. The both of you had quickly resolved to outdo everyone else, kickstarting a temporary truce which spiralled to well…this.

Donghyuck’s arms gently circle around your waist as the both of you take light footsteps from one end of the living room to the other. You’ve always found it easy to sync with him, and you’re guessing it just boils down to natural chemistry. That, and the fact that you’re so familiar with the way Donghyuck moves from watching him dance day in and day out.

There was a fascination with university that everyone else had, that you often failed to grasp. It had just seemed like a natural progression, rather than a hard-earned escape to a utopian place where you were an adult free to do what you wanted. The past three years had been some of the best in your life, mainly owing to the fact that you had a major you enjoyed and a dance team that simultaneously functioned as your closest group of friends.

You realise that Donghyuck has been present for its entirety. He had been there when you were accepted to the dance team, and then made centre alongside him a year later. He had been there when you did your first showcase and solo act, running down from the stage breathless afterwards. When you got your first injury, he was the one who told Taeyong for you, and convinced him that you could still fill the role with enough rest. Donghyuck was the one who found you crying in the studio when you got a failing grade on one of your exams, and who sat with you silently until your eyes were no longer red.

There’s only one year until you graduate, but Donghyuck’s presence in your life is as constant as the air you need to breathe.

It was easy to say farewell to your friends from high school, with an easy promise to maintain contact. But it’s so very different with Donghyuck, who fills up every crevice of your life effortlessly with his little habits.

You had wondered if you had fallen too fast for Donghyuck. After all, the change from rivals to friends to romantic feelings had been alarming, because you could rarely think straight when it came to him. Yet, looking at him now, you’re convinced that you want to spend as much time with Donghyuck as possible, before the worries of adulthood start creeping in.

Call it young ambition, but something about Donghyuck just makes you want to take chances. To let loose and live a little easier. Maybe it’s because he’s able to make you happy with the simplest things, and he’s so easy to love. Which is why you suppose you can finally make a decision, even though your heart has probably been silently waiting to say yes.

“If I move in, I want counter space. And also half of the closet space. And you have to promise to not scatter your clothes around our room,” you say, so abruptly that Donghyuck stops moving entirely, and you have to pause to prevent yourself from tripping over his feet. He bends down, until he’s eye level with you. His eyes are hopeful, questioning, as if he’s not entirely believing of what you’re implying.

“You’re not kidding, right?” It’s so easy for a smile to make its way onto your face, as you shake your head and Donghyuck’s grip on your waist gets a little bit tighter.

“You’ll get all the counter space you want. I’ll even let you bring your stupid potted plants.” Your nose scrunches at his remark, and Donghyuck has to stop himself from cooing at your expression.

“For the record, I think my potted plants are adorable. And once I bring them here, they’ll be yours too. So don’t speak of our potted plants that way.”

Ours. Donghyuck thinks he likes the sound of that.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

A week later, you’re standing outside the dance studio with Donghyuck, when you grab his hand. He looks down sharply at you, mouthing a ‘what?’, and then angling his chin urgently back in the direction of the studio. However, you just flash a grin at him. “Open the door, Donghyuck. We’re already late.” He narrows his eyes, but the playful grin tugging on his mouth shows that he already understands what you’re aiming at.

When the both of you walk in, there’s a mixed range of reactions. There’s Jisung and Shotaro, whose mouths are wide open. Doyoung and Mark’s eyebrows are raised, but they don’t show any other expression. Ningning, Renjun and Chenle are in a corner, knowing smiles on their faces. Taeyong and Karina just look like they’ve always known, and are honestly more miffed at the lack of punctuality from the both of you.

“I think Karina’s going to kill us for breaking her no relationships rule,” Donghyuck mutters worriedly in your ear.

“If you forget, I’m her favourite child. I think she’s more likely to murder you for getting with me,” you respond sweetly, and Donghyuck simply stares, speechless, as you let go and walk over to where Giselle and Winter are warming up. He scoffs, shaking his head, and walks over to Jaemin and Jeno, who are already ready to tease him for being a lovesick fool.

The four walls of the dance studio make up so much of Donghyuck’s life, but so do you.

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vampiretendencies · 2 years ago

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jj mocking your moans is such a him thing to just annoy u 🫣🫣🫣

suggestive!

any inconvenience, he’s doing it.

he has the repeated image of you falling apart for him engraved in his mind. and the sheer embarrassment, roped with annoyance on your reddened cheeks whenever he mentions it is alike to that of when he’s making your flesh crawl with oblivion— so strikingly red, resembling a cherry everytime you came undone.

the shame and awkwardness he brings back to life within you when he uttered to mimick your angelic calls for him during sex turned to a shell of discomfort.

you knew he had that power over you, to make you feel small with one little notion. oh and did he love it.

using it to slightly guilt trip you in a way, to not go out for girls night. albeit, he craved you more than whatever mindless night sarah, kie, and cleo had planned with you. his urges were ravenous, nearly compromising with himself to not eat you alive.

and the outfit that you choose to wear was not helping, the material thin, see-through if you glance during the right lighting, and it snitched your waist just heavenly.

clasping your necklace in the full length mirror, he evens the chain over your chest, vein-prominent hands staying there. twirling the thin silver around his index finger, with a peck to the open skin behind your ear.

“you really shouldn’t go to this baby, could just stay … with me. maybe take it slower since we have all night—“

you cut it short as you know where he’s going with this, it’s jj. “no j, i can’t i already promised them. too late to back out.”

a tiny pout forms on his sullen lips, a small ‘tut’ falling past them. face of ‘well, that’s not going to work in your favor.’

“don’t you miss me, pretty girl? need you so bad.”

“seriously jj m’not staying—“

“you weren’t saying that yesterday. actually, all i remember you saying yesterday is ‘right there j’ and ‘please go faster’, isn’t that right ?”

is that really how you sound?

he mocked your moans in a slightly higher pitched voice, trying to replicate yours. a sly, sensuous smirk on his face, he traced your collar bone boring forward at you in the mirror. cheeks unbelievably hot, staring down at the floor, hoping to hide but there’s nowhere to go— no where to run.

his turns on his heel, now in front of you. encouraging your head to look up at him with the curl of one finger beneath your trembling chin.

he knows he’s won.

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen. you’ll cancel and go tomorrow, right after m’done hearing those pretty moans again alright baby?”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #outer banks #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank smut #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fic #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank concepts #jj maybank imagines

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applejuicebegood · 7 months ago

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Best-friend!Dick Grayson HCs (Hero!Reader)

Fem!Reader

A/N: I haven't written anything for Mr. Grayson yet, I feel ashamed. This is based of the Young Justice Dick Grayson btw Masterlist

You met through the original Young Justice team. Both awkward tweens attempting to mirror the legacy of the Hero's the group was founded upon.

He was the unintentional balance between Kalders unrelenting seriousness and Wally's extreme extrorevtism. He could cancel out the chaos of Conner's fits of anger and Artemis's petty fights with Roy. He became your stability within this extremely unconventional friend group you had found yourself in.

Stripped of his family and a normal childhood, it was rare for Dick to grow confident in the stability of any relationship. Only, stability is what you embodied for him. You were like the serene guiding point in a crowd of uncontrollable teenage angst and anger.

In the early days of the team where Dick assumed the position of 'team-leader' was innately his, he would secretly mimic your intense control of not only your emotions but your abilities and skill to hopefully appear more qualified.

To him, your skill is battle was artful. You moved with a grace that he had never seen replicated in any dancer or gymnast that cycled through Haly's Circus. You were entrancing and almost addicting to watch. His footwork and faints becoming tighter and more effecting the more he watched you train, and eventually training with you.

It was how you initially grew close as teammates. Long sparing sessions where you're combat and skill was so perfectly reflecting off of each other. You both would stay on the training pad for hours, trying until you gave in to knock the other off of their feet. It appeared unless, you both were obviously equally matched in skill and fight IQ. With Wally and Megan taking bets on who would go down first, neither of them ever actually paid up since you both would have to tap out from pure exhaustion.

But it was the rush of understanding that made you train with Dick until you both couldn't feel your arms. It was the exhilarating thrill of knowing someone entirely understood your limits and skill as well as they knew their own.

And when it came time for Dick to have someone covering his blindspots, it was you with your back against his. You had spared and trained and bled so much together that your weaknesses and habits had become a second nature.

You knew Dick had a tendency to keep his kicks wider, putting him at a speed disadvantage to regain stability on his feet. Giving you more opportunity to keep his sides covered as he leapt back to cover your right, where he knew you had trouble keeping track of.

It wasn't just your synchronization that made you such a good pair, it was the tenderness you knew that the other needed afterwards.

After brutal missions where your knuckles would be caked with dried blood and the adrenaline high was making you too dizzy to think, Dick would slink his arm under yours and carry you back into the safety of the hideout. He would guide you to a bed, willing you to shut your eyes and breath deeply. He would lean his forehead against yours, having you match the pace of his breath to level your nerves.

He hated it when other people would treat your injuries and he wasn't there. This scared, paranoid part of him had to be present with you. He needed to have his hand open for your to hold in a vice grip as Megan dug the bullet from your leg. He needed to be sitting by your shoulder as you slept, the oxygen mask fixed over your face, so that when you woke up- it could be Dick smothering you in his arms as he silently sobbed against your shoulder. So happy that you hadn't left him just yet.

And as much as he worried about you and the team, it felt good to worry. It felt good to have so many people he cared for and needed to keep safe.

He helps wrap and clean your hands before and after missions. Smoothing his thumbs over the tightness of your calloused palm. He smiles as you groan in relief as he works out a stubborn knot.

Your his sister in everything but blood. His reminder that he was able to find another family after his was taken.

It's funny in that his last memories with his mother was her asking him if he wanted a sibling. Dick liked to think that she, where-ever her soul rested, pre-determined your presence in his life. That she still managed to give him a sibling.

When you were both still young teenagers, you encouraged him to try for the Gotham High gymnastics team. Thinking that it would be good to separate that part of himself from hero-work. Of course he made the team. And of course you would always be front row to everyone of his competitions. Your voice would hurt from how loud you cheered and screamed as the gold metals were hung around his neck.

He treats birthdays and other holidays very seriously. He's got a list for everyone on the team of things they said they needed or liked. His gifts are so personal and sweet but it's the cards that make you tear up.

Being Hero's from such a young age, both of you struggled with really bad nightmares. It was common when the two of you were 14 for Dick to tap on your bedroom door late at night. His eyes wide and his raven hair tousled across his tight forehead. You didn't have to say anything to each other, at least not until the morning. You would pull back your covers and pat the space beside you, his weight making the mattress dip. You both would lay there, looking up at the ceiling until his weak, hoarse voice would break the silence. 'Can I hold your hand?' You nodded, settling on your side. You poked your open palm out from the covers, waisting for him to lace his fingers over your knuckles. He finally let out a relived sigh, shutting his eyes as he squeezed your hand in a thank you you knew he couldn't say.

He snorts when he laughs, something only you know about since you have been one of the only ones to make him laugh so hard. You find it insanely adorable.

Slightly overprotective. He really hates it when you're out late at night and you haven't texted. A smaller, traumatized part of his assuming the worst. He likes to keep his shoulder close to yours if your walking down a busy street together, or his hand hanging behind your upper back if your making your way through a thick crowd.

You quite literally grew up together. You were there for every embarrassing fumble in conversations and violent breakdown. You were there, side by side, when you got your highschool diplomas and when you immediately had to stop a drug trade right after the ceremony. You were there through everything, and Dick is going to try his absolute hardest to make sure your there for the rest of it.

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lana-llama-in-pajamas · 10 months ago

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Francis mosses x fem! reader

thick as blood

sweet as milk

"god i am down bad" you groaned getting up getting into the shower, it was.....nasty, the grout and limescale made a public bathroom seem more hygienic

but you didn't have time to think about it so you cleaned up and got out trying your best to not touch a thing, you looked over the makeup guidelines for your uniform, it had to be exact in order for the agents that came in to not suspect you. matching foundation no eyeshadow, black mascara and complimentary blush with matching lip stick

you looked in the mirror one last time before rushing out.

7 am sharp you sat at your desk watching Francis be the first heading out the door giving a small wave to you, your heart fluttered waving back. a few more residents left leaving you with a bit too much free time. most of them wouldn't come back till lunch and as stupid as dopples are for them to appear now is suicide, you look around and see a letter at your desk so you open it

dear agent 591138 it has come to my attention that no one has filled you in on your working conditions fully so I am here to do it for you. your working hours are 7am to 10 pm every full week then you will get the following work week off, we understand this is rather confusing but just know your best interest is our priority (among other things) this gives you time for recreational activities and self mental care. you do know how everything in the office works but we did just throw a gun to you like a baby. your DDD issued pistol has DDD issued bullets so we can verify the killing of the dopples or in serious cases murder of innocent civilians. an agent will contact you intermittently to check your mental health. best regards , agent 907811

what a letter. did they call you a baby with a gun? your 25.

you decided to open the filing cabinet under your desk to place the letter just to find it riddled with boxes of said bullets. you place it over them and close it staring straight into your reflection of the glass "ok lets just breath and get through it" you assured yourself before reaching into your bag for a bagel and milk, odd combination yes but its what you had in your icebox. you started to worry about your food supplies through the week from what you remember you had bread some fruit jam and POSSIBLY not rotten eggs to hold you over but you knew for a fact a grown person was not going to survive on jelly sandwiches. you looked to the phone wanting to call a cousin that lived nearby to get you some things but you decided against it for now, maybe at the end of your shift you could leave them a message with the operator. soon the middle of the day came and Nacha came in with her daughter looking rather feverish "hi so sorry we had to come back in early she's coming down with something" Nacha slid both their papers and ids through the slot holding her baby close, you looked over the info and all was in order. you even studied them and before opening the door "maybe a doctor would help more?" you asked not wanting to sound mean " oh we went to the pharmacy right before coming here, they said its probably something the kids are passing around" nacha responded happily, this woman was really upbeat it almost scares you " oh good, get better kiddo" her daughter coughed a quiet "whatever" before her mom chastised her passing the now opened door.

you looked to their papers, specifically Anastacha's.... then your stomach dropped. her eyes. her stand offish demeanor yesterday and today, you had a sinking feeling about her relationship to Francis but you weren't sure so you decided to drop the idea for now...

2 dopples came in, horrible replication so you just dropped the shutter and called the moment they spoke.

the phone rang and you picked up "hello, this is agent 907811 the one that sent the letter" the voice was manly but upbeat (imagine Gladiolus from final fantasy 15) you nodded to no one "oh hello, a little unprofessional to make wellness calls in the middle of my shift no?" you asked playfully to test the waters on the guy " intermittently, remember?" he said matching energy "noticed you got 2 already, might get more not to jinx ya" you hummed in agreement as he continued "anyway to make it easier for you instead of calling us and explaining the situation I want you to just say my name and ill know to send our boys in yellow, to save time and lives right?" he kind of lingered on the right so on que you answered "right." "great! ok the names rex." he spoke quick "wait really?" you asked absent for a minute "well no my real name is classified but everyone calls me rex, and whenever you dial 3312 it puts you straight to me~" he made you smile hearing his happiness so you giggled "well ok will do rex, time to get back to work" "yes ma'am" you heard hanging up. dreamboat was infront of you already sliding his papers to you "sorry about that Mr. Mosses" you read over the file, a blush overcoming you "boyfriend?" he asked catching you off guard "n-no, the DDD" you almost got up to let him know you were serious but fixed your seating position instead "mmm...ok" you thanked your god he had very prevalent verbal ques, made your job easy "were do you get your milk from?" he asked taking back his papers "my old apartment, believe it or not the DDD moved me in yesterday with everything I had" you chuckled thinking he took his job a little too serious and didn't want enemy milk on his turf "i give you milk now." he almost declared in an odd way. you turned red imagining unholy thoughts "the farm i deliver for also delivers here. the buildings day is Monday but ill grab a case for you tomorrow" he walked in before you could even form the words thank you but on instinct you shut the door behind him.

you tried to calm your blush to no avail, the way he just announced his caring for you! the way he said it made you swoon "i give you milk now" god it was weirdly hot!! you almost swore you heard a bit of a Russian accent when he said it. you kept holding your face praying to go back to your natural color "doll you look like a tomato" another male voice said "oh Mr. Gauss, I apologize its just allergies" you looked away for a minute before doing the usual "its winter. your a horrible liar" he tapped the glass teasingly "all is well, good day Mr. Gauss" you spoke restrained trying not to be angry with the fact he had no issue calling you a liar opening the door for him "see you later doll". you sat there a little peeved to say the least, munching on your slightly stale bagel you continue your shift.

the next morning you woke up to knocking, your heart raced putting on your robe and ran to the door opening it "its 7:30" francis looked down at you looking almost disappointed "oh my god really?? shit thank you for waking me up" you left the door wide open as you rushed to put on a fresh uniform and stuffing your makeup bag in your purse. francis watched you rush from bed to bath sighing and looking around, he placed down five bottles of milk on your counter and opened your ice box "how pitiful" he spoke looking at the carton of barely any eggs and a few rotting veggies. he took it upon himself to leave a milk out and put the rest in making you a single piece of toast. you looked actually quite presentable considering your rushing you walked towards the door hitting something hard "ow" at first you were going to cry because Francis just watched you almost break your nose but you looked up to see him looking down. god did he smell good. like bourbon and vanilla, thank god axe body spray wasn't invented yet. "I made you toast. I have to get to work." he furrowed his brows at the last bit and left you, you look to the counter to see well enough he set the toast with jam on a small plate and a glass of milk at your table.

days had passed and soon it was your friday

it was almost 10 pm but you had to stay an extra hour because the twin models were at a party. you've never really had a full conversation with them but they were nice to you even complimented you on your hair once, finally they came in beautiful gowns that made you get up to see them fully "y/n! so sorry it took so long!" Selenne said raising her hands up air hugging you from the glass which made you chuckle "its my job to see your safe return, beautiful dresses by the way" you placed your hand on the glass to match hers "why thank you, we'll show you the details in a bit" Elenois smiled passing their papers to you, you matched them up everything being in order "you should come to a party with us" selenne jumped a little visibly annoying her twin "sel she has a job to do. a stressful one at that she doesn't need more comingling with the upper-class that watches your every move" elenois huffed taking the ids back "oh actually my days off start tomorrow" you smiled "oh. nevermind, wanna wear airtight dresses and flirt with politics?" elenois laughed making you raise an eyebrow smiling, selenne slapped her sisters shoulder giggling "shes a little tipsy, yakn-" the girls went silent. all of you looking to your left to see it.

a dopple.

a twin dopple.

it was horrifying. a giant sharp mouth filled its face, no eyes no nose it snarled stretching its arm out to the girls as they screamed. you quickly opened the door hearing your own heart beat quicken with every thought, "get in the office NOW" you yelled banging on the glass to get thier attention, they did as told rushing passed El pushing her sister in forcing Sel onto the office floor next to you. the dopple sprung passed the door before you could shut it, it tripping and grabbing onto elenois' leg with its yellow claws you ran up your mind swimming from thier screams, you punched the side of its head forcing it to go down before turning its attention to you. you grappled with it on the floor yelling at the girls to get a grip and lock the main and office door, they were trembling...blood from Els leg soaking her dress as she held selenne nodding to you closing the door and locking the main one from the office. you were bloody , your fist scrapped its teeth cracking the bone a bit as you threw it againt the door earning another scream from the twins it snarled and screeched as you ran towards the stairs unclipping your gun from its holster going up a floor "all residence stay in your homes a dopple is in the building" you yelled repeating the phrase as you heard them all scamble yelling and some of the men even starting to descend the staircase before you hit the first step. the monster stood before you on the bottom step bleeding from its maw "YoU pICk uP A GOosd fiIIgHT MakeSS yoU moRe DeLishessssss" you trembled aiming "Fuck You" POW POW the pistol shot hitting its stomach, its screeches hurt your ears but you slowly backed away as it crawled to reach you it was fast ripping off quite a bit of your skirt as you kept pilling the trigger knowing it had no more than 8 rounds finally it hit its chest making the thing go down by the second floor.

you laid there on the steps breathing heavy hearing almost nothing as everyone crowded around you asking questions and tending to your leg, but you heard nothing.

you got up pushing poor mia to the side backing down stairs passed the body pulling it by the leg to the main floor and leaving it at the end of the steps, everyone but Nacha and nat following for obvious reasons. you walked to the office opening it with your key seeing the twins holding one another sobbing looking up at you, they smilied running up and hugging you close you could start to hear their voices thanking god and thanking you...the gun was still in your hand so you walked passed them slowly sitting in your chair and placing the gun on the desk everyone ran to the girls to inspect them as you dailed the number "....rex....i had to kill it in front of all of them.." you croaked "coming now kid hold on" his voice sounded shaky but you were still processing everything the smell of blood and what seemed like rot, the stinging sensation of your cuts and bruises...the sounds of your residence begging you to answer them. oh.

you breathed in a sharp breath finally being able to sense everything "please step away from the body" you stated to the mcoolys looking over at it "you really killed it" the older one spoke in shock "oh dear your skirt " gloria took off her head scarf to cover you but francis stopped her taking off his wrobe and placing it over you "the ...blood" you managed to get out "fuck the blood right now" he stated mia dressed you in it as the twins blocked you making sure your panty hose were no longer exposed, all of the men looking away either in respect or fear of thier wives.

DDD came escorting everyone upstairs as the other half stayed downstairs to clean up "didnt think we'd meet this way" you looked up from the chair the shmidts brought out for you to sit as DDD officers looked over your wounds. it was rex. a taller man in casual business attire with salt n pepper hair "you did good kid, you saved those girls and the rest of them" he held out his hand to you , you shook it nodding "thank you" he nodded back letting go to speak with a yellow suit qietly "well it seems theres no fatal injuries on any of you , they dressed your wounds so now you rest" rex looked down at you . some would say you looked like a beaten dog but maybe that was just rex "your one tough bitch y/n." he walked off with the hazmats in tow, "i think its time for you to rest baby...you look close to passing out" gloria squeezed your arm as your eyes fluttered, you were passing out and fast "ill take her home" francis spoke up "and we'll stay with her" El and Sel spoke together "she cant sleep in those clothes" el added , everyone agreed as francis picked you up slowly treating you like glass to your apartment the scent of his shampoo and his warmth made you pass out holding him tighter

you could almost hear him stiffle a tear as he held you closer.

end part 2

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #tnmn #milkman x reader #milkman #tnmn fanart

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gojoacedia · 3 months ago

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tattoo artist! Touya Todoroki x Reader

NSFW ahead! This is my first full smut piece so I thought I would post it for kinktober, lmk how I did!

Touya Todoroki was the most sought-after tattoo artist in your city. His fine line work, detail, and color were unmatched. As an artist yourself, you weren’t just going to pick anyone to do your first tattoo. They had to be good enough to replicate your drawing, which wasn’t going to be easy for anyone. So you decided to email him to set up an appointment.

It took months to actually see him, but the day was finally here. You were going to get your first tattoo. It was a beautiful and intricate spine piece that Touya said he was personally impressed by. You were incredibly nervous but also excited to finally meet him. Then you were called back into his room.

“You (y/n)?” he asked you while finishing setting up for the session. You had seen pictures of this man but none of them did him justice. He had beautiful white hair, perfectly contrasted by the black inkwork all over his body. He had three nose piercings and many cartilage piercings, all of which made you weak in the knees. You realized you were staring.

“Yes,” you replied shortly, your nervousness showing more than ever. He only smirked at you, reading your body language like a book.

“This your first tattoo?” He asked, getting the stencil ready for placement. You only nodded, too shy to speak anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll be real gentle to you,” he said in a suggestive voice, making blood rush to your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you could only say before he turned you around and started placing the stencil. The cool ink on your back gave you goosebumps, but you were more shaken by how delicate his fingers were pressing the stencil into your back. You had to try extremely hard to prevent yourself from shivering.

“Does that look centered? I usually don’t get it right the first time, but I think I did a pretty good job on this one,” he laughed a little at himself while watching you look in the mirror. You practically had hearts in your eyes at how good it looked on your back. “It looks amazing, perfectly centered!” you smiled up at him after looking at the stencil to find him already looking at you with an amused gaze. Did he think you were cute? You looked away before your brain could explore that thought any further. He motioned for you to lay down on the table so he could get to work. You unceremoniously flopped down on the bench and got in a comfy position. You knew this would take a while.

“Alright, this may pinch a little, let me know if it hurts too bad,” he told you before dipping his pen in the tattoo ink. You barely even felt the needle go into your skin, you were too preoccupied with how he was touching your back. “How does that feel?” He asked in the same suggestive voice he did before.

“I barely feel a thing. In fact, I think it’s relaxing,” you told him truthfully in a sleepy voice. It was his heart's turn to skip a beat. His first tattoo didn’t hurt particularly bad, but it was far from relaxing. He got used to it over the years, but he couldn’t help but wonder what pain you had to go through in your life to look this sleepy while needles were penetrating your flesh.

“Yeah? You got a high pain tolerance?” He asked, wanting to confirm his curiosity. “Mmhm, been through a lot worse than this,” you yawned while relaxing more on the bench. He thought you looked adorable. “That’s too bad, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to go through any pain,” he flirted before wiping some excess ink away. You giggled below him, glad your face was hidden in the table.

“Did your first tattoo hurt?” You asked him, not wanting to stop the conversation. “It hurt a little but wasn’t nearly as big as this one. I personally think piercings hurt more than tattoos,” he answered. “I agree, but I’ve only gotten piercings done by my friends, never at a parlor,” you laughed a little while telling your story, thinking he would be disappointed that you didn’t take body mods seriously. Some did get infected, but no more infected than they would’ve gotten at Claire’s. “I didn’t take you for the rebellious type, doll,” you could hear the smirk in his voice. He could probably hear your heartbeat through your spine at this point. “Then there’s a lot you don’t know about me, handsome,” you replied by calling him a pet name like he had called you, thinking you were funny for it. On the other hand, he felt his heart skip into his throat at the nickname. He was always a flirt, and shy girls like you were always his favorite to pick on. But you talked back. He thought he was falling in love.

You continued the conversation until about an hour and a half into the tattoo session, then he asked if you needed a break.

“I’m so glad you asked me, my legs went numb like 30 minutes ago but I felt bad messing up your rhythm,” you told him honestly while sitting up. You tried to stand up but it was all too fast, causing you to stumble due to the blood rush. Touya caught you, his hands on your elbows holding you up.

“Careful now pretty, don’t fall for me too fast, you might regret it later,” he teased from above you. You tried to hide your smile but it was futile. “Sorry, I stood up way too fast,” you explained even though he already knew what happened. He sat you back down before walking over to a mini fridge in the corner to get an energy drink. He asked if you wanted anything, and you looked over his shoulder to see what he had. You were surprised to see little boxes of apple juice.

“Can I have an apple juice?” You asked him while smiling, happy that he would have something like that in his fridge in the first place. He laughed while grabbing one and handing it to you.

“They’re for when kids come in to get their first piercings. I don’t know what magic is in them, but they take the pain away from every kid I’ve ever pierced,” he chuckled while explaining them to you. This man just kept getting hotter and hotter the more you talked to him.

“You’re a badass tattoo artist who’s also good with kids? I’m in love,” you joked, but it wasn’t really a joke. He laughed at that, letting you see his smile for the first time since you started the tattoo. Butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“You ready for the final stretch? It should take another hour and a half if you sit pretty for me like you’ve been doing,” he smirked while putting on a new pair of black gloves. You nodded and laid back down on the bench, getting in a comfortable position once again.

“So how’d you come up with this design?” He asked you, eager to start another conversation.

“It’s been something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, and because I’ve drawn for my whole life it was pretty easy to sketch up a draft,” you explained to him, happy you finally got to brag about how good your drawings were. “You drew this? It’s beautiful, if you ever want to become a tattoo artist I’d take you as my apprentice any day,” he complimented, trying his best to get you to like him. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” you laughed, although you both knew he wasn’t joking. “I’ll show you my art after this if you want to see it,” you offered, upset that you had seen his art all over his studio but he’s only seen one of your drawings. “Show me everything,” he replied, making you flustered at his innuendo.

“This is going to hurt more than the linework, I’m gonna start filling in the black,” he warned before starting shading. “I know you can take it though,” he said in that suggestive voice that made your knees weak. Thank god you were lying down.

You ended up falling asleep for the rest of the tattoo session, much to Touya's disappointment. You were woken up by the cool disinfectant being poured on your back.

“We all done?” You asked him while yawning.

“Yup, go ahead and take a look,” he replied. You almost shot up when he said that, excited to see how it turned out, but you caught yourself and got up slowly so you didn’t fall over again. You looked behind your shoulder to see the tattoo.

“It’s beautiful Touya! Thank you so much!” You exclaimed. You handed him your phone so he could take a picture. When he handed you your phone back you stared at the photo for what felt like forever, memorizing every little detail he was sure to add. You smiled up at him in appreciation, and he was once again already looking at your face in admiration. You didn’t know but he felt his chest tighten at the fact that you remembered his name. It sounded so good coming from your lips.

“I’m really happy you came to me for your first tattoo, this way you know how good I am and can come to me for every other tattoo you decide to get,” he subtlety flirted.

“I definitely will, don’t you worry,” you told him. “Alright, let's get you taped up,” he said before turning you around and putting healing cream on your back. You had become obsessed with the way his fingers felt on your skin, so much you didn’t want to leave. He put a bandage over your tattoo before turning you back around to look at your face again.

“I know this is unprofessional, but let me take you on a date. I get off work at 6 if you wanna stop by then. I know some amazing restaurants on this block,” he said nonchalantly while taking his gloves off one last time. You stared up at him in shock. You were hoping this would happen, but you had convinced yourself he didn’t like you and was just trying to make you more comfortable.

“I’ll be here at 6 then,” you smiled up at him before walking out of his studio to pay.

•••

Six was too close. You were so giddy about the date that you had forgotten to ask about how to take care of the tattoo, showering with the bandage on and hoping you weren’t supposed to take it off before the shower. You wore your favorite outfit and put on some simple makeup before heading out to see Touya.

You arrived at the studio around 5:45, watching as all the employees were cleaning up after a long day. You didn’t want to get yelled at for being here during closing, so you immediately made your way to Touya’s studio. Before you opened the door, you heard him talking to someone.

“Take a big deep breath in- and now out,” he was speaking to someone in a gentle voice, one you weren’t used to hearing from him. You quietly opened the door and slid in, and Touya knew it was you as soon as he heard the door. There was a little girl sitting on the table you were on earlier that day, getting her ears pierced. Her mom was in the corner smiling proudly at her, but also eyeing Touya down like you were. You couldn’t blame her, you were in the same position.

“You did so good! Now for the most important part-” he started before heading over to his mini fridge and taking out an apple juice. “Make sure you drink all of it so your body has all the proper nutrients to heal,” he explained, watching the little girl with comforting eyes that felt like home.

“Thank you,” the little girl said quietly before running off to her mom to show her. They both looked so excited, which made your heart soar. After they left the room, you approached Touya.

“How did you learn to be so good with kids?” You asked him, smirking. He let out a huff at your question.

“I’m the oldest of four, I’ve been takin’ care of my stupid siblings my whole life,” he explained while cleaning up. It made you wonder about his childhood. Why did he have to take care of his siblings? What did his parents do? You decided to drop the subject in case it brought up anything he didn’t want to share yet.

Once he was done cleaning his space, he walked over to you before snaking his hands around your waist and leaning into your ear.

“You look absolutely beautiful, you know that?” He whispered, leaving chills up your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck before looking up at him to return the compliment.

“I could say the same for you,” you whispered up at him, looking at how soft his lips were. He suddenly pulled away before grabbing your hand to lead you out of the studio. “Let’s get going huh? I have the whole night planned out for us so I don’t want to waste a second,” he said at a normal volume. You nodded and followed along.

•••

Dinner was amazing. You talked the entire time about your work, families, and hobbies. You felt like you had known Touya for years after you left. It was shocking to you how easily conversation flowed, you usually had to carry the weight of conversation on your other dates. But Touya knew exactly what to say. At the restaurant, Touya offered to take you back to his place, which you happily accepted. You didn’t want the date to end.

The car ride over held a comfortable silence. You were looking out the tinted window at the city lights as you drove, absorbing the beauty while you thought about what you were going to do at Touya’s place. You entered a parking garage and watched as the cars passed while driving to the upper levels.

Touya’s apartment was nothing like you expected. Of course, there was art on every wall, but it was extremely clean and organized. Touya watched as you explored his flat, looking at every drawing and picture with curiosity. He felt his heartbeat speeding up as he watched you. As you were looking at a particularly impressive drawing, you felt arms snake around your waist and a breath on the shell of your ear.

“You know, the second I saw you I knew I had to get to know you, and after that you just got hotter and hotter,” he whispered in your ear, giving you shivers. You turned around to face him, again wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I could say the same for you,” you whispered back, standing on your toes to lean in to kiss him. He smirked before gently pressing his lips against yours. The gentle kiss turned more passionate, and you felt a hand tap on your ass, telling you to jump up. You jumped and he caught you without breaking the kiss, carrying you to his bedroom before throwing you on the bed. He took his shoes off before crawling on top of you to continue the kiss.

You didn’t understand how his kisses were making you this hot and bothered. Maybe it was the combination of delicate and passionate with every move of his lips. Maybe it was how soft his hair felt in your fingers. Maybe it was how his hands explored every inch of your upper half without even taking off your shirt. All of it was driving you crazy. He pulled away to look at how flustered you were, and you felt him get harder from looking at you melting underneath him.

“I promise I don’t usually do this on the first date, but no matter how hard I try I can’t resist you,” he said, expressing his hesitation. He didn’t want you to think he only took you out for sex, and you could see it in his eyes. In response you took off your shirt to let him know it was okay. His eyes widened seeing you in just a bra, then he smirked knowing this was permission to go further. He took off his own shirt before leaning back down to kiss you and explore your body, this time without the barrier of clothing. He felt you breathe heavier at how he grabbed your waist, and he felt how painful his erection was getting at all of your small reactions. If you were this sensitive already, how could you take his cock?

He reached behind your back to unclip your bra, but while he was there he felt the bandage of your tattoo still there. He was going to have to take that off once he was finished with you. He pulled your bra off of your chest and couldn’t help but stare. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice trailing off like he didn’t know he said that out loud. You bit your lip in embarrassment, about to cover your chest with your arms. He stopped you in your tracks by pinning your arms back down and kissing you, pressing his bare chest to yours. He felt so warm above you, and you felt comforted by his body heat. After making sure you weren't embarrassed anymore by kissing you, he reached his hands up your waist once again, but this time he didn’t stop at your chest. He grabbed a handful of your tit, causing you to let out a breathy moan into his mouth. You felt him smirk against your lips. He reached the other hand up to squeeze your other tit while starting to toy with the nipple on the first one. You couldn’t help yourself from moaning as he twisted the nipple with his thumb and pointer finger, bucking your hips up to his to create more friction. He started giving the same treatment to the other one, circling his fingers around the hardened bud, making you squirm with pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you?” He smirked in your mouth and your face got hotter. You let out a shy and breathy ‘yeah,’ before pulling his head back down on your puffy lips. You didn’t think you could ever get enough of him. As you kissed you explored his body with your hands, his toned arms, shoulders, back, and abs. You reached your fingers under the band of his pants to tease him, hoping he would take the hint. You were getting uncomfortable with how wet you were, feeling your slick start to seep through your pants. He smirked into the kiss before pulling away to take your pants off. He took his pants off as well, leaving him in his boxers and you in your panties.

“Fuck doll, you’re practically dripping through these,” he said while gently starting to trace his fingers along the outlines of your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. You looked down at his boxers, almost drooling at how big the outline of his cock was. “Heh, like what you see, love?” You nodded eagerly before once again tracing your fingers along the band of his boxers and up his spine and shoulders.

“Patience, babe, I haven’t even eaten you out yet,” he chuckled before pulling your panties down, coming face to face with your sopping cunt. You had no idea what to do. You had never enjoyed anyone eating you out before, so you were nervous about Touya. You prayed to whatever god you believed in he knew what he was doing. You absolutely did not want to stop him because he was bad at eating you out. Your train of thought stopped when you felt Touya bite the inside of your thigh. “What’s wrong, doll?” He asked, looking up at you and rubbing his cheek against the bite mark he just made to soothe it.

“It’s just… I’ve never enjoyed being eaten out…” you said quietly, almost ashamed that you had to express this concern.

“Trust me, ok?” he whispered, kissing down your thigh. You nodded, putting your hands on top of his on your thighs. He finally got down to your folds and gave a light kiss to your clit. You relaxed into his touch, and he took that opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs and pull you closer to his face. You gasped in surprise, but it turned into a moan when you felt him kiss your cunt sloppily. You laced your hands through his hair, moaning as he lightly sucked on your clit. He brought his fingers down to collect your slick and you felt him smirk on your cunt.

“You’re leaking so much for me, doll,” he said into your clit, the vibrations of his voice making you jump. You tried to respond but your words caught in your throat at him slipping a finger inside of you, curling it upward, and hitting your most sensitive spots. You couldn’t hold on to his hair anymore in fear of ripping it out of his head, so your hands settled on the bedsheets. He started pumping two fingers into your wet hole, circling your clit with his tongue gently. You were the loudest you had ever been, arching your back and gripping the sheets for dear life. You were so right to trust him with this.

“Touya, I’m gonna cum,” you whined in between breaths. He instantly pulled away from you, causing you to whine again, but this time in annoyance. He was smiling wide at how your eyebrows turned upwards, how tears shined at the corners of your eyes, and how your gorgeous chest rose and fell with every breath.

“You haven’t even seen my cock yet and you’re already gonna cum? That was awfully easy for how hard you were making it out to be,” he grinned at your reactions to his teasing. He loved seeing you so desperate for him. He brushed your hair out of your face and grabbed the side of your head, leaning down for a passionate kiss. You felt him moving above you, taking off his boxers while holding your face up so you couldn’t look down. You felt him start to grind against you with his bare erection, earning a moan of surprise at the cold metal of the piercing on his tip. He deepened the kiss, grinding harder on your slick as he did so, causing you to reach up to tangle your hands in his hair for something to hold on to.

“Are you on birth control? Do you want me to get a condom?” he whispered against your lips, grinding lighter so you could respond.

“I have an IUD, so as long as you promise you don’t have any STDs we don’t need a condom,” you smiled up at him. He smiled back. “I promise I don’t have any STDs. I get tested regularly,” he replied while rolling his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his hips, exposing your hole for him to enter. He gave you one last quick peck on the lips before lining himself up with your entrance. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he slid in the tip, getting even more turned on by the way your mouth started to open and your brows started to curl up. Your hands were gripping his shoulders harshly, unable to lift your arms up into his hair anymore. He continued to slide in after he assured you looked fine.

“Ohhhhh fuck, princess, you feel so fucking good,” he threw his head back and moaned. Your back started arching as he bottomed out, your vision going slightly blurry, and nothing but moans and pants escaped your lips. He laid on top of you, going even deeper inside while grabbing the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “fuck, doll, I don’t know if I can bring myself to ruin a pretty thing like you,” he teased above you, looking deep into your eyes. You wrapped your legs around his hips so he couldn’t move out of you.

“Please, Touya… I want you to ruin me… You can use me however you’d like,” you whispered to the man above you. You watched as his eyes turned into something more crazed, and you watched as he put a pillow underneath your back before slamming into your hole roughly. You yelped and your hands returned to his back, this time clawing red stripes down the length of it. You could tell he loved it by the way he groaned and thrust his hips onto yours. He decided to return the favor by reaching to your chest, circling each nipple with his fingers before pinching and squeezing. You felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head with the overwhelm of pleasure, and you felt tears streaming down your cheeks. You heard Touya chuckle above you.

“Dick too big for ya? That’s too bad, you gave me permission so I’m gonna use this tight hole any way I please tonight,” he said roughly, his voice wavering every time he pounded into you. All you could reply with was “Mmhmmm! Yes, yes, oh fuck,” in a voice way more high-pitched than it usually is. He let out a small laugh at your response.

“I’m gonna make you come now, ok baby?” He muttered, moving one hand from your chest to your cunt, taking his dick out to cover your folds with your slick before rutting back in. You nearly screamed as he brushed his fingers over your folds, spreading your juices all over. He started to stroke over your clit quickly, pushing in your nipple before flicking it intensely with his other hand.

“Ahhhh, fuck Touya, please,” you sobbed out, tears now streaming freely down your cheeks.

“You want me to fill you up, doll? Cum for me and I’ll give you your reward, hm?” You came the instant he told you to, back arching and legs shaking around his waist. Feeling your cumming cunt throb against his cock made Touya come after, filling you up with hot spurts of cum. He kept thrusting into you, your juices mixing in a white froth around the base of his cock, his spurts of spend slowing down with every thrust. Once he was finally satisfied, he slowly pulled out and watched as his cum leaked down over your asshole.

“Fuck, that sight could get me hard all over again,” he smirked to himself before looking up at your face and laughing. You were so exhausted. “C’mon, let's get you cleaned up,” he chuckled while picking you up bridal style and taking you to the bathroom. He sat you down on his toilet before turning the shower on.

“I’m not letting you in the shower until you pee,” he said to you behind his shoulder while feeling the water as it warmed up.

“What? Why?” You asked as his come began to leak out of your abused hole in clumps. “I don’t want you getting any UTIs or yeast infections. That would mean I would have to wait for more than a week to fuck you,” he said as if it was common knowledge. You laughed to yourself in shock. He was planning on fucking you again?

Once he was satisfied with the temperature of the water, he turned around to look at you, still pouting on the toilet. “I can’t pee with you in the room. I just think of you fucking me and my pussy gets tight all over again,” you pouted while looking up at him. He gave you a big laugh at that. You tried to hide your smile as you hid your face in your hands, trying to think about anything other than the man you just fucked. Eventually, it worked.

You stepped in the shower before Touya did, taking a longer time to get your hair fully wet. You heard him step in behind you and felt his arms around your bare waist, his face buried in your neck just where he liked it.

“You’re blocking the hot water, I’m cold!” You complained, turning around to face him. He could only look down at your discolored hardened nipples, licking his lips at what he saw. You rolled your eyes before pushing him aside to get under the water. You reached for his conditioner before he stopped you.

“You’re not gonna let me put your conditioner in? It’s the least I could do after railing you like that,” he said before grabbing the bottle and squeezing a lot more conditioner than he usually used on his hands. “Fine…” you said meekly, not fully trusting him with your hair type. You were surprised to find he was very gentle, coating every chunk of hair with an even amount before moving on to another. He ran his fingers through the strands, lightly combing out any big knots. You relaxed into his hands enjoying the soothing warm water on your chest while you got the chance. After he applied the conditioner he switched spots with you to put in conditioner of his own and wash his hands off.

“Before body wash… let’s see how dirty this little hole is,” he growled before trailing his hands down your stomach and arriving at your slippery folds. He slowly inserted two fingers, curling them upward to gather any cum he left deep inside you. He brought out his fingers and told you to look. There were clear and white streaks of gloss completely covering his fingers, linking the two together. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment.

“Heh, I got really deep inside of you, huh?” He smirked down at you. You just ignored him, grabbing the body wash and putting it on his loofa before cleaning yourself. You didn’t get very far before he stole it.

“C’mon, you get to wash your pretty body every day, why not give me a turn?” He joked as he started rubbing your chest with soap. Once he was satisfied with your front, he turned you around. Before cleaning your back, he slowly peeled the tattoo bandage off and ran it under the water to wash away any excess ink.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I gave you a pretty sick tattoo. Next time I’m definitely gonna have to do backshots,” he smiled while brushing his fingers gently over the ink to wipe away any dead skin accumulated through the day. “Hey, I was the one that designed it!” You bickered, failing to hide the smile in your voice. He chuckled before finishing up with washing your body.

Touya got out of the shower first, drying himself off a little with a towel before wrapping it around his waist and grabbing a towel to wrap you in. He held the towel out with open arms and you stepped into it, getting embraced by the warmth of the towel and his body. You giggled in your towel burrito before looking up at him through the hole at the top. You could almost see the hearts in his eyes. He gave you a peck on the lips before he put out a pair of his boxers for you (your panties were soaked and ruined for the night) and a band T-shirt. You quickly changed before snuggling under his comforter for warmth. Soon after you felt Touya join you, pulling you close against his bare chest and holding your head in his arms.

“I think I’m the luckiest person on Earth,” Touya whispered to no one in particular.

“I could say the same,” you replied.

#bnha #mha #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #dabi #mha dabi #dabi smut #dabi x you #touya smut

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joelscruff · 2 years ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SIX

previous chapters | again, thank you so much for all the love on this fic. it's so beyond overwhelming and wonderful to know that people are enjoying this story. i hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip 💕 chapter summary: it's time for your first official "lesson" with joel. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, fingering, oral (f receiving), lap-sitting, grinding word count: 8.7k ao3

You feel ridiculous.

You stare in your bedroom mirror at yourself with a look of pure mortification, assessing the beige dress you're currently wearing that your mother picked out from her own closet, falling to your ankles and bagging off your hips in the most unflattering way imaginable. It looks like a potato sack with long sleeves, long and floppy and absolutely horrendous.

You slowly shake your head at your reflection as she comes up behind you with attentive eyes, assessing the same trainwreck you are. You can see in her expression that she's similarly disappointed in the way it looks.

"I'm not wearing this," you say quietly, trying not to sound too harsh, "Please, Mom, this doesn't fit me right."

She bites her lip, eyes still scanning you up and down, "You're probably right," she sighs.

She wants you to dress modestly for your first lesson with Joel. You'd settled on Saturdays as your official "lesson" day, a perfect choice in your opinion as you now have an excuse to go to his house on the weekend without having to lie to your parents about where you are. You want to appease them in some way, your mom in particular; you've felt so bad about all the lying you've been doing, you feel you owe her something. And that something is apparently agreeing to let her pick your outfit, a decision you're already regretting immensely.

"The navy blue one was nice," you say, gesturing toward one of the other options she's laid out on your bed - one that's actually from your own closet and not hers, "I know I've grown out of it but it's not that short."

She walks over to your bed and picks up the dress in question with an exasperated sigh, eyeing the clock on your night stand, "I guess it'll have to do, we're running out of time. You don't want to be late," she hands it to you quickly, "You'll have to wear stockings with it though."

You nod - that's a compromise you can deal with.

She gives you some privacy to change, leaving you to fight your way out of the oddly shaped beige atrocity on your own. It crumples into a pile at your feet and you kick it to the side with a little too much aggression. Imagine if she'd actually made you wear that - Joel would never want to touch you again.

The thought of Joel sends a rush of warmth throughout your body as you slip into the other dress, velvet and modest but nowhere near as awful as the previous one. You'd talked to him on the phone last night after he'd finished work, cuddled in bed against an extra pillow in place of him - you'd slept so well on Thursday night when you'd slept in his bed, felt so safe and warm in his arms, you're now doing anything you can to replicate it. You'd wrapped his flannel shirt around it, coating it in his scent.

"I miss you," you'd whispered through the phone, the insecurities from the previous night almost nonexistent as you nuzzled your cheek into the fabric of his shirt, "I know I saw you this morning but I can't help it."

He'd laughed lightly, soft and familiar in your ear, "I miss you too, babygirl. Miss havin' you in my bed."

You'd taken only one deep breath before admitting softly, "I miss your cock."

He'd groaned, low and deep, "I know, darlin'. I know you do."

You'd both had simultaneous orgasms about ten minutes later, your name on his lips as he came into his fist and you buried your face in the pillow you wished was him, fingers scissoring inside you. You walk over to your bed now and pull up the mattress a bit, tugging his shirt out from underneath while you have a spare moment alone. You bring it to your face and inhale deeply, eyes closing and heart fluttering; you're obsessed.

"Ready to go?" your mom calls from downstairs, and you quickly shove the flannel back under the mattress, making sure it's hidden before you dash to your dresser to grab a pair of stockings. They're black and stop at your thigh, the edges hidden beneath the dress; you already know Joel will take them off soon enough.

You immediately notice the grimace on your mother's face when you appear at the bottom of the stairs and you wonder what you've done wrong already. She assesses you again without saying anything, gnawing on her lip and circling you a bit.

"Can I go?" you ask quietly, unsure what she's going to say, "I don't wanna be late."

"Where's your crucifix?" she finally says, tilting her head slightly, "I don't think I've seen you wear it all summer."

Astute observation - you haven't worn it all summer. It's still upstairs in your jewelry box, exactly where you'd left it when you went off to college several years ago. You'd begun to resent everything it represented and no longer felt like parading around with it on your neck like you'd done your whole life. The thought of wearing it now after so many years of forgetting it even existed... well, it certainly doesn't appeal to you whatsoever.

But you are trying to make up for all the lying, even if she doesn't necessarily know it.

You plaster a forced smile on your face, "I'll go get it." She mirrors it and nods as you turn around and head back up to your bedroom. Do it for the lessons, you think to yourself calmly.

Looking in the mirror after clasping the gold cross around your neck is a trip to the say the least. You suddenly feel ten years younger, standing in your bedroom preparing for an early service, Sunday School homework crumpled in your backpack and an immense weight of pressure on your shoulders to be perfect. You stare at the crucifix and feel that familiar sense of guilt begin to creep in, surrounding you in a quiet but palpable void of judgement that you've spent years trying to escape.

Why the fuck are you doing this? Why are you so hellbent on following the rules, after everything you've done? Why does the approval of your parents still mean so much to you? How is any of this even worth it?

You swallow back the pain you feel, the guilt, the anger, the resentment, all of it. Now is not the time to have an existential crisis; you have a "lesson" to go to - something you are not going to feel guilty about, no matter how bad your former Catholic brain may want you to.

As if by some ironic miracle, your phone buzzes and you unlock it to see a sudden surge of text messages in your college group chat:

have fun at your lesson 😘

don't do anything we wouldn't do!!!

pls give us all the details later 🥵

ITS ENTIRELY POSSIBLE TO SUCK DICK ON ACCIDENT JUST FYI

A breathless laugh escapes you, relief flooding your body at the sudden sense of normalcy, the reminder that what you're doing is not wrong. You're so glad you told your friends about what's been going on - you can't imagine keeping this secret all to yourself any longer. Knowing that they're there, that they support you and care about you and want you to have these experiences... it's enough for you to turn from the mirror without a second glance.

It's just a fucking necklace.

You arrive on Joel's doorstep at exactly ten o'clock, smoothing down your dress a bit and taking a deep breath before knocking. You're not sure how he's going to react to you standing there in all your Catholic glory, hair down and parted through the middle, crucifix dangling from your neck, hymn book weighing heavily in your purse. You still feel like that past version of yourself, shifting nervously from right foot to left as you stand there waiting for him to open the door.

The knob finally twists and there he stands, tall and broad in front of you. Your eyes widen when you see him, lips parting in surprise - the exact same reaction he has when he sees you.

He's dressed up. No band t-shirt or jeans to be seen, no bare feet or messy hair or disheveled beard. His grey curls are gelled back, demure and handsome, scruff trimmed up to shape his jaw. He's wearing a grey button down tucked into a pair of black dress pants, shoes that look freshly shined. For all intents and purposes, he looks like he's about to go to a church service.

You both stand there staring at each other without saying anything, both pairs of eyes scanning up and down your bodies with almost no regard for politeness. You're speechless, completely in awe of his sudden transformation, a transformation you certainly had not been expecting.

"I thought, uh-" he chokes out, breaking the silence between the two of you as his hand reaches up to awkwardly touch the back of his neck, "I thought your mother might bring you."

You continue to stare at him, a ball of emotion suddenly growing heavy in your throat, "Y-you wore this in case my mom came with me?"

He slowly nods, suddenly looking a bit sheepish as his eyes scan the road behind you for any onlookers, "I wanted to make a good impression."

With a shaky inhale full of a feeling you can't describe, you take a step toward him, unable to stop yourself from reaching forward to grab his hand, "Joel," you whisper, barely audible and almost alien in your mouth - you're so used to calling him Mr. Miller, "That's... that's..." you don't even know what to say, words completely failing you.

"It's no big deal," he says with a small smile, tugging on your hand and urging you to follow him inside, "C'mere."

As soon as the door closes behind you he's grabbing both your hands and pulling back to look at you again, eyes still awestruck. You can't help but feel embarrassed when his gaze freezes on your crucifix.

"My mom made me dress up," you mumble, "I know, it's a lot."

He nods and clears his throat, taking a long exhale through his mouth as he continues to peer at you, "I'm a bad man." Your brow furrows, confused for a moment before he laughs breathlessly and shakes his head, "I am, I must be, 'cause I shouldn't find you wearin' all this so damn sexy."

A giggle slips past your lips, skin warming as he entwines his fingers with yours and moves forward a bit to tower over you, eyes trailing to your lips.

"I mean it, darlin'," he whispers with a tender smile, "You look... fuck, you look pretty."

"Thank you," you whisper back, tilting your head up a bit more, waiting for him to kiss you - and he does. It's soft and sweet, not the type you'd been expecting after a comment like that. He seems slightly reserved as he kisses you, squeezing your hands in his and pulling away far too quickly, "What is it?" you ask quietly, raising an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head again with a chuckle, "Nothin' at all, babygirl. I'm just... I'm tryin' to keep at least some of these next two hours focused on learnin' guitar."

You make a face, "Oh. Right."

"Remember what I said the other night?" he looks down at you with a playful smirk.

We'll make it sexy.

A smile spreads slowly across your face, "I remember."

He sits you between his legs on the couch, just like the first time he'd touched you. He noses your shoulder and breathes you in, pulls you close as he carefully places the guitar into your lap. His arms are warm and comforting, thighs strong and safe. You lean back into his touch immediately with a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes.

"Now, how am I supposed to teach you if you've got your eyes shut?" he asks with a laugh. You pout and open your eyes again, turning your face a bit to catch a glimpse of his relaxed expression.

"Sorry, it's just - you're distracting."

He snorts and redirects your attention to the task at hand, reaching down to capture your fingers in his and bring them up to the neck of the guitar. It's already distracting having him so close, but you can feel the shape of his cock against your lower back; it's not even hard -not yet, anyway - and your heart is already pounding.

"I mean it," you mutter softly, "I can't think when you're so close to me. Not after..." you trail off, feeling your cheeks warm at the thought, "Not after what we did the other night."

You feel him smile against your jaw, lips ghosting your skin, "I know, it's overwhelmin' isn't it?" His fingers trace the shape of yours, pressing gently against the guitar, "That's normal, sweetheart. We took a big step."

You can't help but lean back into him as he speaks, head coming to rest gently on his shoulder, forehead brushing his neck, "It felt so good," you whisper, secretive and shy, "When you were on top of me like that. When you had your mouth..."

He hums softly in understanding without you having to finish the thought, turns a bit to nose your hairline, "You want my mouth on you again, huh?"

"Yes."

He kisses your skin softly, lingering for a moment before moving his face downward, "How 'bout this?" he murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to the bare skin at your neck, "How 'bout I teach you three chords? Just three," another kiss, this time to the spot above your collarbone, near your crucifix, "and when you can play them for me without my help, I'll give you a reward."

"What kind of reward?" you breathe, eyes closing again as his lips graze your neck back and forth.

"Somethin' that feels really good," he whispers, and you swear you feel the tip of his tongue flutter against you for a brief moment, warm and wet, "Somethin' new I wanna show you, if you'll let me."

"I'll let you do anything," you admit, voice shaky, "You know that."

He smiles against you, then slowly licks a long stripe up from your neck to your cheek, an act that probably would have disgusted a previous version of yourself but now sends you reeling, skin going hot beneath his mouth. You turn your head toward his and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, the kind you'd expected at the door, full of arousal and sex and the promise of more. You're already wet and throbbing when he pulls back to peer at you.

"I know," he murmurs, hand that's not on the guitar coming up to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger, "You'd do anything I asked, huh?" You nod, eyelashes fluttering as he thumbs your chin and whispers, "Such a good girl."

Your mind is empty as he releases your chin and takes your other hand in his, bringing it down to the strings. You let him move you the way he wants to, adjusting you a bit between his legs so you're pressed more firmly against him, his broad chest tight against your back. You can't help but let out a breathless noise, almost a whimper.

"I know," he repeats, voice calm and soothing as he pushes his groin forward so his clothed cock makes even more contact with your lower back, "I know, babygirl, it's so much, isn't it? Feelin' so many different things," he carefully adjusts your fingers on the neck of the guitar, places them on the correct strings and murmurs, "You can do this, I know you can. And then you'll get your reward, I promise."

His words are smooth as butter and have almost no meaning at this point, thoughts foggy as you press down on the strings and try your best to focus on what he's asking of you. You're suddenly completely pliant under his touch - he could pick you up and bend you over the kitchen counter and you'd let him, wouldn't even have a thought in your mind as he did it.

But he won't - that's not why you're here.

Learning guitar chords with a half-hard cock digging into your back and warm breath at your neck is much easier said than done. You don't know how you manage to get through the fifteen minutes it takes you to learn the C chord, and the ten minutes it takes to learn what you think is the D chord - you can't even remember now, you're so distracted by his body against yours. He's teaching you G when you feel yourself slipping, thighs rubbing together to seek some kind of relief. It's never felt like this before; usually you'd be touching yourself at this point or he'd be touching you. The lack of contact almost hurts, your pussy throbbing around absolutely nothing and dampening your underwear, begging silently to be relieved in some way.

"What's wrong?" he whispers, big fingers still pinning yours to the neck of the guitar, stubble scratching against your skin as he presses a feather-light kiss to your ear, "Tell me, darlin'. Why're you wigglin' around like that, huh?"

He knows why; you can feel the smirk on his face, sense the teasing edge to his voice. He's enjoying this, having you completely under his spell while you try your hardest to learn and remember. His cock is getting harder by the second, the movement of your hips and ass certainly not helping the situation by any means. You know what it looks like now, what it feels like, can picture it in your mind growing stiffer and stiffer, leaking from the tip through his pants.

"Feels f-funny," you manage to whimper, forcing yourself to strum out your first G with shaky results. You try again, pushing your fingers more firmly against the strings with Joel's help, feeling his nose trailing gently across your temple.

"What feels funny, sweetheart?" he murmurs, and part of you wants to rip yourself from between his legs, toss the guitar to the floor, and straddle his lap, grind yourself down on him. You've never done it before but you can suddenly see it in your mind plain as day, an obvious solution to the problem in your panties that's growing worse by the second.

"My pussy," you moan, closing your eyes and tilting your head against his shoulder again, hands loosening on the guitar, "It hurts."

He pulls you in closer, inhales your perfume and releases a low groan, "Poor baby," he murmurs, "I know, honey, you're just achin' to be touched, huh?" He tightens your fingers against the strings again, eyelashes fluttering against your neck, "Come on, sweet girl, you almost got it, you're so close."

You're not sure he intends for that to have a double meaning but it makes you groan nonetheless, a weak sound that makes him chuckle. He removes his fingers from yours and waits for you to show him the chord without help - you can feel his eyes on you as you shakily strum. You wince when it comes out sounding wrong.

"Gotta push down harder," he murmurs, "You almost got it, babygirl, show me."

"I can't," you whimper, shaking your head, "I can't, Mr. Miller, it's too much, please."

"Shhh," he soothes, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, "You can, darlin'. You're doin' so good." You feel him pull your dress up in the back as he speaks, and then he's suddenly pulling you up and into his lap, sitting you directly on his clothed cock. "You just gotta push a little bit harder." He grinds against you at the word, firm and purposeful, pinning you to the solid length of him.

"Oh my god," you gasp out, awestruck by the feeling of him, so big and thick and warm beneath you. Your pussy continues to pulse and throb and you know you're already starting to soak the nice pair of dress pants he'd worn for you, covering his crotch in your slick.

It's somehow still not enough. You find yourself grinding down onto him, matching his own movements as your hands squeeze the guitar and your thighs push together. You whimper pitifully in his lap, squirming and making a mess but too horny to care about how ridiculous you probably look.

"You feel my cock against your pussy, baby?" he asks, voice low and deep, and all you can do is nod frantically, a moan tearing from your throat, "That feel better? Think you can play now?"

You truly don't think you can, but he's clearly still waiting for you to show him. Your whole body is on fire, hands trembling as you push your fingers against the strings as hard as you can, strumming out the G chord with more success this time. You sigh in relief, loosening your grip on the guitar and leaning back into his touch.

"Now show me all three," he whispers.

"Mr. Miller," you groan, frustration and arousal starting to fully overtake you, "Please."

"Shhh," he repeats, "Shh, baby, it's okay. It's okay, I'll touch you this time. Just play those three chords while I play with your pussy, alright? Can you do that for me?"

You nod again, swallowing tightly as you reposition your fingers on the neck of the guitar and try to remember where they're supposed to go for the C chord. It's impossible to focus as Joel snakes his arm up around your belly, slips his hand down beneath your dress to where you're aching.

"Lemme feel," he murmurs, fingertips tickling over the wet spot of your panties and pressing down gently against you, "Oh, she's throbbin', babygirl." You moan again, borderline hysterical as he uses two fingers to circle your hole through the fabric, callused tips prodding your folds. "Shhh, I know, baby, I know. Keep goin honey, keep playin'."

You don't know how you do it, have absolutely no idea how you manage to actually strum out the chords while he's touching you like this, but you do. You shakily play the C as he slips his index finger inside your panties and places it against your hole, feels how much you're dripping for him and groans into your neck.

"Always so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs, "Never even had a cock inside you and your pussy's so ready for it every time, babygirl, just beggin' to be filled up."

He pushes both his index and middle fingers inside as you play the D chord, slipping them in with barely any resistance as you grip the guitar and try your hardest to keep going, to not give up - you're so close, in more ways than one. You whimper when the tips of his fingers brush gently against that spongey part inside you that you can't reach yourself.

"That's it," he encourages you softly, slowly beginning to fuck you with them, pulling them out and pushing them back in as he noses your neck and breathes you in as you tremble, "I know, sweetheart, feels so good, doesn't it? One more, baby, one more."

Tears are stinging in your eyes as you strum out the G chord, the last one you need to play in order to get your reward, to end Joel's teasing and finally get what you were promised. You push your fingers down as hard as you can and play it with a finality that makes him smile against your skin.

"All done," he murmurs, taking the guitar from you with one hand and tossing it to the other end of the couch. You moan out a sound of relief and he pulls you in close, holds you firm against his lap and speeds up his fingers, fucking you harder and smiling wider when you cry out in pleasure, "Good girl, angel, good girl."

You can't speak, jaw going lax and eyes hooded as his fingers plunge in and out, his other hand spread on your belly as he pushes you down onto his cock. You turn your head slightly to bury your face in his neck, biting down on your lip and letting the sensations overwhelm you, whimpering when you feel his cock twitch and pulse through the material.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks huskily, "Didn't even wanna learn guitar today, did you? Just wanted to come over and be my good little girl, get fucked by my fingers and grind against my cock, that right?"

You're unable to answer any of his questions, letting your body do all the talking for itself as you become completely loose and pliant under his touch, a ragdoll in his lap as whimpers continue to escape your mouth.

"Wearin' this little dress," he murmurs, "And these fuckin' socks," the hand that's not on your pussy comes down to rest on your thigh, squeezes the bare spot between your dress and your stocking, "Just beggin' to be touched, babygirl."

You should've seen what I had on before I left the house, you think to yourself, remembering the beige potato sack and thanking the heavens that your mother hadn't made you wear it. You watch as Joel pulls up your dress in the front, exposing both of you to the pornographic image of his hand inside your panties, fingers fucking you relentlessly while you drip and soak everything within reach.

"You want your reward now, baby?" he asks you softly, pulling your hair back and pressing a wet kiss to your temple, fingers beginning to slow, "Huh? You wanna try somethin' new?"

"Y-yes," you manage to finally speak, voice faint and weak, "W-want it so bad." And it's true - you don't even know what it is but you're dying for him to do it already, teach you something else that's not just chords on the guitar.

At your words he pulls his fingers out of you and you whine, petulant and frustrated as your hips buck in his lap. Without a word he pulls you off of him and carefully slips off the couch, placing you back against the cushions where he was sitting. You watch with wide eyes as he kneels on the floor in front of you, hands coming up to rest on your knees as he slowly pushes your legs apart.

"W-what are you doing?" you whisper, but a small voice in the back of your mind tells you that you already know, recalling past discussions from your friends that you'd listened to with curiosity. Is he...? Is he really going to?

"Gonna kiss it better, baby," he breathes, hands trailing up to the edges of your stockings and carefully thumbing your bare skin, shuffling closer and looking up at you with those big brown eyes, "Gonna make you feel so good."

"Isn't it..." you feel yourself frowning, thoughts muddled, "Don't guys not like..." you're not sure how to word it, grimacing, "Aren't you supposed to hate doing that?"

His brow furrows, "And where'd you hear that from?"

"My friends at college," you breathe, "They say guys hate doing it. Or... or they don't know how to do it right or something like that."

He surprises you when he smirks, eyes going devilish and sexy in that rugged way you love, "That's 'cause college girls usually sleep with college boys, babygirl," he says softly, "And college boys are dumb as rocks."

You giggle at his words, thinking back to that freshman party you'd attended where the handsome college boy had rejected you, gone for your friend instead. Joel's words are validating, comforting.

He pushes up your dress a bit more, then drags your panties down your legs, completely soaked. He smirks again at the sight of them, squeezes them in his palm before dropping them to the floor and picking your legs up to place them on his shoulders, pulling you toward him. You let out a gasp, eyes going hooded again as he scoots you forward and then dips his head down, presses a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"This," he murmurs against your skin, "is one of my favorite things to do in the whole world." He kisses your other thigh, the hint of his tongue just barely flicking out to wet your skin, "And I wanted to do it to you," another kiss, "since the first day," and another, "you showed up on my doorstep."

You're losing your breath again, lips parting as he finally brings his lips to where you're aching for him, soaking the couch with your arousal. He presses a small and tender kiss to one of your outer lips, then the other, then carefully moves his hands up to thumb them apart, holding you open for him. You don't dare make a sound, biting down hard on your lip as you watch him look at you, take you in.

"Prettiest pussy I ever saw," he says quietly, breath fanning out over your wet skin, "I mean it, sweetheart. Ain't never gotten to kiss a pussy like this," he leans forward then and presses a small kiss to your clit, feather light. Your hips buck immediately, an odd sound coming from the back of your throat as you try to keep yourself together, "I know," he murmurs, "Just let go, honey. Don't hold back, want you to come all over my mouth."

And then he's licking a stripe up your folds, just like he'd done to your neck, long and languid and wet. Your eyes roll back, head hitting the back of the couch as he tastes you. The feeling of his mouth on such a sensitive part of you is indescribable; your head is suddenly empty again, no thoughts to be found other than feels so good, feels so good, feels so good. You don't even realize you're saying it out loud until he laughs, mouth vibrating against your pussy in the most perfect way.

"Love this cute little clit," he murmurs, kissing it again and then tugging it into his mouth with his tongue, sucking on it and making you writhe on the couch, fingernails digging into the cushions. He hums around it, pulls off it relatively quickly, then drags his mouth downward and pushes his tongue inside your hole, fucks you with it as your head lolls atop your shoulders.

College boys really are dumb as rocks.

"Your tongue," you moan out, eyes scrunching together as gasps continuously rip from your throat, "Oh fuck, oh my god." He licks inside you, pulls his tongue out to suck your labia, nose bumping against your clit. You shriek, hands coming up to cover your face as you bite down so hard on your lip you fear you might draw blood.

"Tastes so fuckin' sweet, babygirl" he says gruffly, pulling away for only a few seconds to peer up at you, chin glistening with your juices, "Just like I knew you would." He drops back down to suckle on your clit again, the tip of his tongue circling it over and over until you're on the verge of completely falling apart, a fire burning inside your belly that's growing stronger and stronger by the second.

The only thought that comes into your mind before you come is how sinful you must look right now, wearing your Sunday best, crucifix around your neck, hymn book strewn to the side as your fifty-six year old neighbor eats your pussy, coaxes noises out of you that you didn't even know you could make. You should feel ashamed, should feel sorry, but you don't. In fact, it's probably the hottest thing you've ever experienced in your life.

You have no time to give him any sort of warning, not that he needs one anyway. With one final suck to your clit you're gone, hips bucking upward as you cry out into Joel's living room pathetically, eyes shut tight as you flail beneath him. He puts his hands on your hips, pins you to the couch so you don't fall off as you come all over his mouth, just like he asked.

You lay there for what feels like a long time, body like jelly as you sink further and further into his couch. He peppers tiny kisses all over your pussy, avoiding your clit as not to cause you too much overstimulation, then very slowly pulls back to look at you, dropping your thighs from his shoulders.

"Good reward?" he asks softly, and all you can do is nod.

You listen as he gets up and busies himself in the kitchen for a moment, running the tap. He returns with a wet cloth and a glass of cold water, handing it to you before dropping back to his knees to wipe you clean. You hiss a bit when he touches your clit, hips stuttering.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmurs, "Just cleanin' you up, sweetheart."

When he's done he scoots in beside you on the couch, lets you curl up against him and lay there for a few quiet moments, breath evening out as you come back down to Earth. He strokes your hair, kisses your forehead, thumbs your cheek.

"That felt really good," you finally whisper softly, eyes hazy as you open them to look at him, "Thank you."

He smiles, charming and gentle, "You're welcome, babygirl."

"What time is it?"

He looks at his watch, "Ten after eleven, still got some time to spare," he brushes his nose against yours, "You wanna keep practicin' or do you wanna relax?"

"Relax," you hum, "Definitely relax."

He chuckles, "I'll put this away then," he extricates himself from you and reaches for the guitar, turning around to lean it back against the wall. He picks up your hymn book and goes to slip it back inside your purse before you sit up, shaking your head.

"I told my mom I loaned that to you," you smile sheepishly, "You should probably, um, keep it for a little bit."

"Ah, so that's my reward," he says with a laugh, thumbing the pages gently, "I'll take good care of it, promise."

Your eyes go wide at his words, "Oh my god."

He raises an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction, "What?"

"You never came," you sit up on the couch, shaking your head frantically, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, come here, let me help," you reach toward his belt and he just laughs again, taking a step back.

"You don't need to do that, sweetheart," he says softly, kindly, but you're not having it.

"No, I want to, please," you stand up from the couch and step toward him, gripping his belt buckle, "Please let me."

He shakes his head; suddenly he's the one looking sheepish. You halt your movements, staring at him in confusion.

"I came, darlin'," he says with a breathless sort of laugh, smiling at you, "I came in my pants like one of your college boys. Haven't done it in years, actually. I'm surprised I still could." He pulls your hand off his belt and brings it to his lips, presses a kiss to your knuckles, "You're not the only one who learned somethin' new today."

You feel a proud warmth flood your cheeks, smiling softly to yourself as you take his words in.

"That bein' said, I'm gonna need to change," he winces a bit as he adjusts his pants, "I'm a bit of a mess right now." His eyes suddenly light up with some kind of realization, and he quickly puts his finger up before walking over to one of his bookshelves and pulling a little gift bag off the bottom shelf, "Which reminds me," he says with a smile, heading back over to you, "This is for you."

You stare at the bag, confused, "For me?"

"For you."

You take it from him, feeling beyond touched despite not having any idea what's inside. Your heart is beating fast as you reach in the bag, push past the tissue paper and pull out something lightweight, soft under your touch. You stare at it for a few seconds, looking at the pastel pink material and thumbing it gently, brow slowly beginning to furrow.

"You said you needed a new swimsuit," he says softly, "You wanted a bikini, remember? I picked this up for you."

"Yeah, I... I remember," you're still staring at it; it's cute and ruffled, nothing too crazy like the things you'd worried he might get for you. However there's an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach as you look at it, dropping the bag at your feet and holding up the top half in front of your face, staring at it like it could attack you at any second.

It's quiet for a moment, then, "I can take it back if you don't like it, darlin'. No worries."

"No, no, I...I like it," you say quickly, "I just..." you can't really explain how you're feeling, unsure how exactly to word it, "If my parents ever saw me in this..." you suddenly feel like you're going to cry, shaking your head and dropping the top back into the bag, "I'm sorry, I know I told you to get it but... now that I'm actually looking at it... there's no way I can wear this in my pool. Not without my mother having a conniption. I don't know what I was thinking."

You feel his eyes on you as you reach down to pick the bag back up, pushing it back toward him, waiting for him to take it from you - he doesn't.

"It's yours, angel," he says softly, "You don't have to wear it but I want you to have it."

You shake your head, pushing it toward him again, "No, you don't need to waste your money on something I'll never wear."

"I don't care, I want you to have it," he repeats, voice kind yet firm, "I bought it for you, it's a present, and I think you deserve to have somethin' nice for yourself."

"I have plenty of nice things," you snap, letting go of the bag and watching as it cascades to the floor, "I don't need it."

You can't bring yourself to look at him, crossing your arms against your chest and biting down on your lip to keep the tears at bay. He stands there for a few seconds silently, probably waiting for you to say something else, but you don't.

"Well, I'm gonna go change outta these clothes," he says quietly, "I'll meet you out on the back deck, alright? It's real private out there, don't gotta worry about anyone seein' you."

You nod slowly, staring at a spot on the floor. He turns away from you and heads upstairs, leaving you standing there feeling like a complete asshole. What is wrong with you? He just gave you a fucking present, not to mention the best orgasm of your life, and this is how you treat him? You take a deep breath and force the tears away, sighing to yourself and bringing your gaze back to the little bag on the floor.

You hate this. Why does every single thought you have need to be somehow policed by your parents despite them not even being in the room? Why is every decision, every move you make, always influenced by that guilty part of you, the part of you that wants to be their perfect girl, their star student, their obedient God fearing daughter? How has it gotten this deep? Why are they so ingrained in you to the point where something you literally asked for is tainted by thoughts of their disapproval?

You stand there staring at the bag, arms still crossed, thoughts going a mile a minute. Get over yourself. You just had a man's mouth on your pussy and you're suddenly worried about wearing a bikini? You make a grumbling sound in your throat, exhaling and shaking your head. Stop letting them control you. Stop giving them power.

You slip inside the downstairs bathroom, little bag in tow.

The sun is hot against your skin as you step out onto Joel's back patio, clad in your brand new bikini and surprisingly less self conscious than you thought you'd be. He was right; the backyard is very private, shielded by trees and a tall white fence similar to your own. You briefly wonder why he'd choose to play guitar on his front step when he has such a nice atmosphere back here, but the thought fades quickly when you see him sitting there in front of you in a lounge chair, wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else.

You feel your heart pound as you walk forward, shutting the door behind you with eyes glued to the hair on his chest, the sweat clinging to his skin, dipping into his tummy. You're still a bit embarrassed by your initial reaction to your gift but it's seemingly water under Joel's bridge when he turns around at the sound of the door to see you standing there.

He whistles when he sees you, low and cartoonish, "Phew. I think I made a good choice," he looks you up and down as you smile shyly, "Gimme a twirl."

You do as you're told, the thin ruffles tickling the tops of your thighs as you spin on the spot. You giggle when he whistles again.

"I really do like it," you say softly, walking over to him and settling into the other lounge chair, "It suits me. I'm sorry I got all weird."

He smiles at you tenderly, "That's alright, babygirl. I understand," he pauses then, looks thoughtful for a moment before saying, "You know... I know what it feels like to be worried about disappointin' your parents. To always be seekin' approval."

Your brow furrows at his words, "You do?"

He nods, leaning back a bit in the chair and sighing a bit, "I may be new to this neighborhood but I ain't new to Texas, darlin'. Born and raised here, went to church every Sunday just like you, had a curfew and rules and expectations and all those things you have." He closes his eyes against the rays of sun, "Difference is, I'm not an only child. I wasn't dealin' with it alone, thank God. Had my little brother Tommy with me every step of the way."

You smile at that, trying to picture a much younger version of Joel in his childhood, horsing around with another little boy. You'd always thought about what it would have been like to have a sibling, to not be the only one with all the pressure on your shoulders, but your parents had never given you any. Your mom had wanted to have more kids and simply couldn't, another layer of guilt added to your ever increasing pile. Her only daughter - a sinner. You shake the thought away and continue to listen to Joel.

"The thing about havin' a brother, in my experience anyway, is that people will always find ways to compare you. Tommy was always the smart one, the moral one, good head on his shoulders, always did well in school and knew his scripture back to front," he chuckles to himself, "I tried so hard to be like him but I just couldn't do it, wasn't built that way, never have been. I was the angry one, the problem child. Was always good with my hands but my parents never saw much value in that, always ended up askin' me the same shit: Why can't you be more like Tommy? Tommy's got straight A's, why don't you? When are you gonna start actin' more like Tommy?"

You frown, feeling a pang in your heart at the words.

"Was too much pressure to be like Tommy. He was their golden boy, you know? And I just couldn't compare. God knows I tried but..." he reaches over the side of his chair and picks up a bottle of beer you hadn't noticed before, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip, "I started messin' up a lot when I hit my teenage years," he continues, "Drinkin', breakin' curfew, sneakin' out to see girls. I had fun but my parents...phew, my father in particular, he was not happy, let me tell you. And then -" he cuts himself off suddenly, frozen for a moment before taking one last sip of beer and putting it down again.

"Then...?" you ask softly.

He shrugs to himself, hesitating a bit before answering, "Then... I got myself into some trouble. Won't go into it, not right now, but they kicked me out. That was that, didn't wanna have nothin' to do with me after that."

Your stomach twists at his words, "That's horrible."

He shrugs again, finally turning to look at you, "It ain't as bad as it sounds, trust me. I was better off, I didn't need any of their judgement in my life, any of that Catholic guilt. It was like a weight came off my shoulders. Sure, I had some bigger fish to fry after that, had to do a lot of things on my own, but I wouldn't change a thing."

"So, do you still talk?" you can't help but ask, feeling slightly selfish; it's for you, for your own conscious.

"Who, me and my parents?" he laughs lightly, "They're long gone now, sweetheart. But yeah, after my Dad died I spent some more time with my Momma, got to have her in my life again for a bit. That was nice." He ponders to himself for a moment, "I think, as cliché as it sounds, time really does heal most wounds. Nothin's ever perfect, nothin' can ever go back to the way it was, but people change. And while they're changin', you gotta focus on what's right for you, on livin' the life you want, not worryin' about what they'll think."

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. "So... this life, the one you're living right now... is it what you want?" you ask softly, brow furrowed, "Are you happy?"

He sighs then, leans further back into the chair and closes his eyes once more, "Now that's a complicated question."

You both lay there in silence for a little while, though it's neither awkward nor uncomfortable. It feels nice, to just sit with somebody with no pressure of making conversation or answering things about yourself. Every time you've interacted with anyone this summer, whether it be your parents or your mom's friends or people you used to know, there's always been an expectation to inform. To prove yourself, to show how good of a person you are, how much you've achieved. With Joel none of that pressure exists; it's so easy to just be with him and not have to be anyone but yourself.

Though he hadn't really answered your question, you have an answer of your own. Before you met Joel, almost two weeks ago now, you hadn't known where you stood in life, what you wanted, who you were. And now you're slowly beginning to realize that there's this whole other person inside of you, dying to get out, to be free. And you like that person, want to be her more than anything, want to live that life.

But just like Joel said - it's complicated.

"Do you ever..." you break the silence, trailing off slightly before continuing, "Do you ever feel like you're just kind of going through the motions? Like... wasting all your time doing things for other people instead of yourself?"

"Honey, you just summed up my whole life," he says with a laugh, deep and smooth, "You think I wanna be out workin' til ten every night, doin' construction and barkin' orders and layin' plans for shit I got no interest in? I'm fifty six, I should be thinkin' about retirin' by now." He winces at his own words and then sits up a bit, giving you an odd look, "Forget I said that."

You raise an eyebrow, confused, "Why?"

He grimaces, "I don't need to be remindin' you how old I am."

You can't help but laugh, smiling to yourself and shaking your head quickly, "I don't mind, Mr. Miller, really."

His expression softens at your words, but then his brow furrows. He's quiet for a moment, the cogs in his head seemingly turning until he finally says softly, "Call me Joel, darlin'."

You're a bit surprised by his words, eyes widening, "Oh, I'm sorry."

He smiles, "Don't be sorry, sweetheart. I... I do like you callin' me Mr. Miller, but you can call me by my name too, if you want. If it feels natural for you."

You nod slowly, "Joel," you say quietly and he chuckles, "Joel," you repeat, smiling to yourself, "Joel."

"Don't wear it out," he admonishes with a grin, reaching down to pick up his bottle of beer again, "Though I do like how you say it."

Your cheeks warm at his words and you settle back into the chair, closing your eyes and inhaling the fresh air. Your time is winding down now - you'd told your mom you'd be home around noon; the sun is almost at the highest point in the sky.

"So what would you be doing?" you ask suddenly, "If you had more freedom for yourself, if you weren't doing the whole contracting thing?"

He thinks to himself for a moment, then shrugs, "Playin' music, I guess. Always wanted to when I was young but my parents didn't like the idea, I'm sure you can imagine." You grimace at his words, understanding completely. "But yeah... doin' some gigs, playin' guitar, singin' a bit here and there... that'd be the dream." He smiles at you then, crinkly eyed and gorgeous, "What about you, darlin'? If you didn't have all these things with your parents to worry about, what would you do?"

You bite your lip, averting your eyes from his as you softly murmur, "I think I'd still be sitting right here with you."

He looks at you for a long time, thoughtful and soft. You can't help but feel shy under his gaze, toying with a ruffle on your bikini and wondering if maybe you've said too much. You've barely known him two weeks, you doubt he's feeling any ounce of the butterflies that have been fluttering in your belly since the day you met him, and yet you can't help but hope that maybe...just maybe... he's starting to.

"You want a beer or anything, sweetheart?" he interrupts your thoughts, standing up from his chair and gesturing toward the house, "I'm goin' in to get another one. I have some lemonade too."

"Lemonade sounds nice," you say with a smile, and he mirrors it, reaching down to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

"One lemonade comin' right up," he murmurs, then leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, sweet and quick. You melt under his touch, eyes closing as he strokes your cheek, realizing you could sit here forever just existing with him, being touched by him, being kissed by him.

Yup. Very complicated.

You arrive home to find your mother sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch; she looks up as soon as she sees you, eyes lighting up, "So? How'd it go?"

You're wearing the dress again, the stockings, the crucifix. The only difference is that the hymn book in your purse has been replaced with the pink bikini, wrapped in tissue paper. You sit down across the table from your mother, feeling a little lighter, like there's a little less weight on your shoulders.

"It was amazing," you tell her, unable to stop the genuine smile that spreads across your face, "I learned so much."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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cherrywrecked · 1 year ago

Text

teach me — j. wonyoung x m. sakura

synopsis: sakura finds innocent!wonyoung watching porn, mirroring the porn star's actions.

warnings: stepcest. guided masturbation. wonyoung calling sakura ‘unnie’. kkura praising wony. fingering. slight choking. pillow humping. innocent!virgin!wonyoung. micromanipulation?

cross posted on ao3.

sakura never would have thought she'd come home to her stepsister watching porn, in their living room floor, with a pillow in between her legs, desperately trying to replicate what she was watching. wonyoung, this poor girl, she doesn't even know what she's doing. but sakura kind of expected that already. wonyoung had always been the good, innocent one. the one mommy and daddy raised with undivided attention. a straight A student, never been clubbing, never went to parties, hell, the girl only has what, four or five friends, even, so it definitely is a shock to see her doing... this.

“hng, why doesn't it feel good... no...” sakura hears the girl whining before changing the video with the remote. wonyoung doesn't even notice sakura standing just by the doorway, she just tried humping her pillow again. she looked so desperate and about to cry—it was funny. the older couldn't help but laugh at how frustrated the girl was. “it doesn't feel good because you're doing it wrong.” wonyoung yelped in shock, body jumping just slightly off her pillow when she heard her sister's voice. “u-unnie! you're home? why? i mean–! why are you home so early, yup! that's what i mean.” wonyoung was obviously panicking while trying to find where her shorts went. sakura just laughed as she dropped her bag on the couch.

“wonyoung-ah, relax.” sakura sighed as she crouched down, facing wony's blushing cheeks. “why are you doing this, mhm? did someone ask you to do this?” sakura asked with a soft voice, holding wony's hand. wonyoung shook her head as she bit her lower lip before answering; “it's just... i don't know! all my friends have been talking about how good this would feel and i don't know... so i asked yujin about it and she laughed at me for not knowing!” sakura coos at wony's frustrated words, a small smile forming her lips. “that's why you wanted to try it out on your own, is that it?” wonyoung nodded slowly.

“alright, look at me.” sakura brings a hand to cup the girl's cheek, making the younger look at her. “it does feel good, unnie's tried it before.” sakura started her other hand caressing wonyoung's leg. “really, unnie? why can't i do it? can you teach me, unnie? please?” the younger girl's words made sakura laugh internally. god, was she that desperate? she didn't even have to manipulate wonyoung into anything, wonyoung wanted her to teach her. “of course, baby. but we have to keep it a secret, do you understand?” wonyoung nodded excitedly before sakura pulled away. “okay, baby. take your top off for me.”

“eh? why do i have to? most the other girls in those videos have their shirt on.” wony tilts her head as she settles herself once again atop of her pillow, innocent eyes looking up to meet sakura's. “trust me on this, princess. i know better than those girls, mhm?” sakura took one bed pillow from their couch, which she assumed was brought by the younger as well and straddled on it, facing wonyoung. she then took her top off, completely leaving her half naked as she straddled on the pillow, just like her younger stepsister. “alright, wony. first you have to play with your boobs, like this.” sakura cupper her tits and started fondling them. wonyoung, as meekly as as could, started doing the same. wonyoung kept her eyes on her older sister's hand, watching every move her fingers do, so it was so easy for wonyoung to do the same when sakura slipped her nipples in between two fingers, pinching on it gently. this made wonyoung squirm—fuck, she's so sensitive. sakura noticed how wonyoung was biting back her moans. “wonyoung-ah, it doesn't feel good because you're not feeling yourself... let yourself go and just moan! it feels so much better doing this without having to worry about anything.” sakura said, one hand now cupping wony's cheek.

wonyoung could only look at sakura's eyes, she doesn't know what to do. being this close to her sister made her feel hot... naughty, even. she started to move her hips slowly against the pillow. parting her lips, she breathes out softly, “k-kkura unnie...” she whimpered and sakura couldn't help but to drag her hand down from her cheeks to wonyoung's neck, gripping on it briefly before replacing wonyoung's hands over the younger's tits with her own. “good girl, wony. you're already getting a hang of it.” sakura teasingly whispered against the younger's lips, letting her tiers brush against wonyoung's before pulling away.

the sudden loss of sakura's hand from her tits made her whine, but before she could even complain, sakura was quick to tell her the next step. “alright, now that you're... doing that, try using your palm too.” confused, wony tilts her head. “like this?” she repositions herself, now straddled slightly above her palm too. wonyoung could feel how warm her pussy is... she's never felt this before, she doesn't want to stop. not even waiting for sakura's reply, wonyoung just went ahead and started humping both her pillow and palm. the feeling of the fabric against her clothed cunt and the pressure her palm was giving her was enough to make wonyoung moan, lips parted as strings of soft moans and words to call out for sakura escaped past them. sakura could only watch in awe through her eyes full of lust. sakura too, could feel herself get wet just by watching her sister touch herself.

“u-unnie, i want more, please.” wonyoung says as she looks at sakura with her innocent, doe eyes. how can sakura say no to that? sakura gave wonyoung a smile and got up from her position from before, removing wony's hand from her cunt. no words were exchanged between the stepsisters, but sakura took the liberty to slip her hands under wonyoung's pair of panties, making the younger gasp out with the sudden touch of sakura's soft palm against the softness of her bare, wet cunt. “mhm, you sure were enjoying that, weren't you?” sakura teases making wonyoung blush even more and look away. sakura hated that, she uses her free hand to force wonyoung to face her. “watch me. watch this.” sakura didn't waste any more time and went ahead to moving her palm in circular motions against wonyoung's pussy. wonyoung, on the other hand, had her brows furrowed as she moans out for her sister. sakura places her free hand over wonyoung's waist, as if telling the younger to move her hips against her palm.

wonyoung, like the obedient girl that she is, moves her hips along with the movements of sakura's palm against her. it was driving her insane, but even more so when sakura took one of her nipples into her mouth and started kissing the sensitive bud. wonyoung pushes her chest more against sakura's mouth, as one hand supported her lower body while the other firmly gripping on sakura's shoulder. “u-unnie! that... that feels so good, a-ah! more, please...” wonyoung says in between moans. the younger lifts herself up and removes her panties, now completely naked for her sister. sakura liked how eager she was. as a reward, sakura sucked on a patch of skin just above wonyoung's right nipple, marking wonyoung as hers. this made the girl wince in pain, but that was soon brushed off as she lowered herself back against sakura's hand. however, when sakura's middle finger slipped right inside wonyoung's hole, the younger almost jumped in pain and shock. sakura was in shock too, but was faster to recover and started wooing the younger. she knew wonyoung was innocent, but she never actually thought the girl was a virgin? wonyoung hasn't even tried to touch herself. not once?

“you're okay, baby. unnie's here, wonyoung-ah, sshh.” wonyoung sniffled back her tears, wanting to be her unnie's good girl. “it's okay, princess, it'll feel better, mhm?” wonyoung could only nod at her sister. to make the younger feel better, sakura used her other hand to ease wonyoung's clit, rubbing on it in slow circles. “you're so naughty, wonyoung-ah. look at how hard your clit is for your older sister.” wonyoung squirms under sakura's touches and soon enough, she was moving her hips on her own. wonyoung couldn't even think at this point. she felt so tight around sakura's fingers and it felt so good inside her. even more so when sakura started to curl her finger inside as wonyoung practically fucked herself in it. the older can't help but to start touching herself too. using her free hand, sakura started to rub herself to her sister's moans.

“a-ah! f-f-fuck... finger... so good... unnie...” wonyoung couldn't even form a proper sentence, for god's sake. pain, lust, embarrassment for being this desperate for her sister's touch—she was feeling everything all at once and it was driving her to the edge. wonyoung clenches her cunt and tightens her walls around sakura's lone finger making sakura groan. “s-something's coming, unnie... stop, please! feels weird!” but just as wonyoung stopped moving her body, it was sakura's queue to make the girl cum. pushing wonyoung down to the floor, sakura straddle's the younger's frame. sakura sat just above wonyoung's thighs, her finger never left wonyoung's hole. the older started to hump wonyoung's thigh the same time she slipped another finger inside wonyoung, which made wonyoung wince in pain and tried to push her hand away. but sakura was stronger than the girl. “take it, wonyoung. you're unnie's good girl. take it.” sakura's words were endearing but her tone was firm. it didn't give wonyoung a lot of choice but to just accept what's she's given.

wonyoung started to feel a knot forming her stomach and her pussy getting more sensitive with every thrust of sakura's fingers. her moans are getting louder and needier. “cum for me, angel. cum for unnie.” and true enough wonyoung was squirming violently under sakura as she came hard around the older's fingers, coating the digits with white cream, which sakura absolutely loved. the older helped wony ride her high and as wony's breath stabilize, sakura pulled her digits out and sucked them clean with her mouth. wonyoung was eyeing her the whole time and wanted to have a taste, so wonyoung pulled her sister down and kissed her sloppily—she didn't know how, but she loved the taste of her innocence in sakura's mouth.

#kyna writes #le sserafim smut #ive smut #wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung smut #sakura smut #miyawaki sakura smut #sakura x wonyoung #sakura x wonyoung smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #gg smut #gxg smut

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gogogodzilla · 10 months ago

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hiiiii can i request a smut one shot with peeta🥰 anything you’d like. thank you!!!

Dress || Peeta Mellark

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, clothed sex, slight dirty talk, fingering, mentions of panty stealing, continuation of this post masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩

Effie isn’t lying when she mentions that the Capitol spared no expense for the reception at President Snow’s mansion, although it’s probably pocket change for the Capitol. Humongous parties like this are the norm, after all.

Your engagement ring’s an unfamiliar sensation on your finger but not an unwelcome one. You link your arm with Peeta’s as you explore the mansion. The ceiling of the banquet hall replicates the night sky and reminds you of home. You wonder if any of the Capitol citizens have ever seen the night sky. The lights from the city are usually too bright, and you doubt many have bothered to venture outside of the Capitol.

You walk through the ornate halls, exchanging pleasantries with dignitaries and various guests. As the night wears on you begin to think that your cheeks might cramp up from all the smiling.

It isn’t long before you find where the food is being kept and your mouth waters at the sight. Tables are laden with every kind of dish you could imagine and even more that you’ve never seen in your life line the walls.

“It isn’t fair,” you whisper as you gaze at the various tables.

Peeta turns to you with a barely-masked grim look. “People are starving…” he began but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I know.”

Before you know it, you’re sampling everything you possibly could, determined not to let anything go to waste. It’s no time before your moments of peace with Peeta are ruined by your prep team descending on you. Their drunken babbles mix together, but you do your best to keep up with what they’re saying.

Octavia questions why you aren’t eating and you brush her off with a laugh, claiming to be unable to fit another bite. This causes a chorus of high-pitched laughs to break out amongst your prep team, and you shoot Peeta a confused look which he mirrors.

“No one lets that stop them!” Flavius exclaims as he leads you and Peeta to a table holding thin-stemmed wine glasses filled with a clear liquid.

Peeta picks one up to take a sip, and it’s almost comical how fast every member of your prep team moves to stop him.

“Not here!” Octavia shrieks.

Venia points to doors that lead to the bathroom, “You have to do it in there or you’ll get it all over the floor!”

Peeta looks between the glass and your prep team, quickly putting the pieces together. “You mean this will make me puke?”

You attempt to hide your disgust while your prep team chuckles.

“It’s so you can keep eating. How else would you be able to try everything?” Octavia says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Peeta sets the glass gently back down on the table and holds his arm out to you. “I think it’s time for a dance. My love?”

Peeta leads you onto the dance floor and pulls you into his arms, mimicking the stance of the dance Effie taught you not too long ago. The dances at home are more lively than this, but you appreciate the closeness this one provides.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he murmurs, and his jaw tenses.

You run your fingertips along his shoulder and then give it a reassuring squeeze. “Just one more night, and then we can go home,” you remind softly, a small smile gracing your features as you attempt to comfort him.

He leans his forehead against yours, sighing. “I can’t wait.”

You pull away slightly, eyes flickering to the front pocket of his suit where your panties are safely nestled. He follows your gaze and grins slyly.

“You know, I think there are a few rooms we didn’t explore,” you suggest, looking at the crowd around you. Most people are too busy with their conversations to notice you.

The soft music comes to an end and you give a small curtsy while Peeta bows back. He takes your hand and leads you through the opulent halls of the mansion. Candlelight illuminates your path as you follow him, and a jolt of the thrill of what’s to come runs down your spine.

Your adventure leads you to a nearly empty hallway and Peeta picks a room to peek into. Once satisfied with the apparent emptiness of the room, he pulls you in and shuts the door gently behind you. He spins you around and before you know it, his lips are on yours. You’re quick to deepen the kiss, and he lets out a small groan in response.

You pull away to catch your breath and turn your head to admire the room you’re in. It’s elegantly appointed with plush furnishings and a canopy bed. Peeta takes the opportunity to trail kisses down the side of your neck, and you lean your head to the side to give him more room.

Peeta’s hands begin to wander across your body, caressing any skin he can reach as he nudges you closer to the bed. Your mind is screaming at you to stop this and return to the party, but the ache between your legs proves to be much more persuasive.

The backs of your thighs hit the mattress and you clamber onto the bed as quickly as your dress will allow. Peeta follows you and his lips are back on yours within an instant. You groan into the kiss, already becoming lost in him.

He runs his hands up your legs, pulling your dress up along with it. You nearly forgot how exposed you were the entire night until the cool air of the bedroom hits your dripping heat. Peeta kneels between your legs, and you spare a glance at him. His eyes are half-lidded and his cheeks are flushed and he looks absolutely perfect.

Your eyes dip down to the very obvious tent in his pants and you can’t help but reach for it. He watches as you palm him, occasionally grinding against your hand.

You tentatively reach for the button of his pants and look up at him for permission. With a nod of his head, you pop the button of his trousers and tug the zipper down. Clumsy fingers reach within the waistband of his briefs and free his cock from its confines. Peeta groans as you slowly stroke him.

He drags his fingertips along your thighs, slowly nearing where you need him the most.

You buck your hips unconsciously, desperate for his touch, as you continue to gingerly stroke him.

Peeta slowly, sinfully, circles your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance, earning a mewl from you. He presses a finger inside you, pumping it slowly before adding another one.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as he touches what feels like the deepest depths of your insides, and your grip loosens on his cock as you get lost in the sensation of him.

He removes his fingers and you whine at the loss, but he quickly satiates you with the drag of his cock through your folds. Your fingers tangle in the bedsheets on either side of you, desperate for something to hold onto.

“So beautiful, my love,” Peeta murmurs as the head of his cock teases your entrance.

“Please, Peeta,” you whine as you grab onto his forearm, the cuff of his suit wrinkling under your grasp.

He chuckles before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “S’okay, my love. I’ll take care of you.”

Slowly, he pushes inside of you and your eyebrows knit together as you focus on taking all of him. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and it was making your head spin.

Your hands slide up to cup Peeta’s face, and his pulse quickens under your fingertips. You tug him closer, longing for his lips on yours.

The kiss is gentle and sweet, much unlike your heated and needy movements moments ago. Slowly, Peeta begins moving his hips and you gasp against him. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, and your cheeks flush.

You pull him impossibly closer as the pace of his thrusts increases and he presses sloppy kisses against the column of your neck. He pins your arms on either side of your head and intertwines your fingers with his.

Peeta rests his head against your shoulder and with every roll of his hips little pants and moans leave him. You wished he would be louder, but you feared you’d be shot on sight if you got caught. Although, it would be a very memorable headline for the evening news.

“You’re so,” he begins but is cut off by both of you moaning as he reaches a particularly sensitive spot within you and you clench against him. “Fuck, my love.”

“Faster,” you whine against him, acutely aware of the amount of time you’ve been gone from your own party.

Peeta ruts deeply within you as he quickens his pace, and the moans that left him cause your cheeks to flush. His head resting on your shoulder allows you to hear every little noise that he makes, and you love every single second of it.

You reach down to where you’re connected and draw hasty circles against your clit, causing the familiar coil inside you to tense. You’re not sure whether it’s the final roll of his hips or your fingers circling your clit just right that throws you over the edge, but you let out a loud moan that Peeta quickly swallows with a kiss.

His hips falter against your own, and Peeta quickly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss, and Peeta kneels between your legs as he strokes himself once and then twice before his release coats your inner thighs.

You attempt to catch your breath as you watch Peeta come down from his high. He leans down and captures your lips in his. You smile into the kiss, momentarily forgetting what awaits you outside the bedroom door.

You pull away and cup his face, “We should probably rejoin the party. I think Effie will be looking for us.”

He sighs as he leans into your touch, “It was nice to forget for a moment where we are and why we’re here.”

“It was,” you nod as you lean in for one last kiss. Peeta is quick to oblige you before pulling out his handkerchief and cleaning up the mess the two of you made.

He rights himself before helping you to the edge of the bed, careful of your skirts.

“Do you think people noticed?”

You huff out a laugh, “For the sake of our lives, I hope they were too busy with the food.”

“It’d certainly make our act more convincing,” he grins as he helps you stand. Your legs are a little wobbly and you cling to him.

“You keep making my legs feel like this, and it won’t be an act anymore,” you tease as you both near the door.

He leans down to whisper against the shell of your ear, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

#peeta mellark x reader smut #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark smut #peeta mellark #reader insert #no y/n #zilla answers #thg series #thg #thg peeta #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #catching fire

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