#but i think it’s one i’ll remember for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

floodflameschosen · 2 days ago

Note

"You're shaking." – "So are you." or "You're mine now. Say it." with Noah please? I can't decide which one so you choose🥹

CW: first time, unprotected sex (p in v), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), lots of fluff and gentleness, best friends to lovers, open/happy ending.

🔞 nsfw, minors please dni.

You hadn’t meant to say anything.

It just slipped out one night while you curled up next to Noah on your couch, the battered old thing in the tiny apartment you’ve been sharing ever since you had to move away for college.

You still remember how terrified you were during your last year of high school, when the time to leave started closing in on you. You were terrified of what it would mean to step out into a new life, of what it would mean to leave Noah behind.

You didn’t know how to exist without him. You didn’t want to.

But just when you were trying to figure out how you were supposed to say goodbye, he looked at you with those steady, sure eyes and said: “What if I wanted to go with you? You know there’s nothing left for me in this deadbeat town, anyway. Not if you’re not here.”

You couldn’t believe it at first.

Couldn’t believe he would choose to follow you, to start over somewhere unfamiliar, just because he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else if it wasn’t with you. And maybe it was selfish, but when he suggested you move in together—split rent, save money—you said yes so fast you barely remembered to breathe.

God, you were so excited.

Excited to finally move away from home, to meet new people and have all the privacy and independence you’ve always dreamed of. Excited by the prospect of living with your best friend, of not having to say goodbye when night came and it was time to go home for dinner—as childish as the thought could be, it was still true.

Now, six months into classes, the excitement had started to wear off a little—not the living with Noah part of it, but everything else. Being in a bigger city, surrounded by people who all seemed so grown up, so sure of themselves, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind.

They talked about internships and life plans like it were all so simple. They talked about hookups and dating and sex—and you couldn’t even pretend to keep up. You didn’t even have the basic experiences they all seemed to take for granted.

You just felt a little… small. Inadequate.

And somehow, in the haze of tiredness and cheap beer and the warm, safe weight of Noah beside you, the words just slipped out.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, sounding almost pouty. “Maybe I’ll just… pick someone tomorrow at the party. Get this whole virginity crap over with, at least.”

You felt him freeze beside you. The air shifted, like the room itself was suddenly holding its breath.

When too many seconds passed and he still hadn't said anything, you turned to look at him, and the way Noah was looking at you—like you’d just given him the worst news in the world—made your heart stutter.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said quietly. His voice was low, tight, so heavy it almost cracked.

“Why not? You did.” You tried to argue, all of a sudden feeling uncomfortable talking about this with him. Still, you kept going. “You lost it to some random girl at that high school party when you were like, eighteen, remember? Why would it be different for me?”

Noah’s jaw clenched as he looked away, and the arm he had draped around you tightened, pulling you closer for just a second before his fingers curled into a fist in the soft material of your shirt, like he physically needed something to hold on to.

He didn’t answer at first, just stared at the TV, but when his gaze finally snapped back to yours, there was something raw and fierce and possessive flickering in his brown eyes.

“Because it is different.” He said, his tone almost angry. Like it was that simple, just because he said so.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“I didn’t think it through, alright? I was drunk and just went with it because it was there.” He shook his head, a rough, humorless breath of a laugh scraping out of him—and it made something inside you feel heavy. “I was going through some shit back then, so I just thought maybe if I fucked someone else, I’d stop feeling so fucking alone.”

You blinked at him.

“Wait. What?” You asked, pushing yourself up a little, trying to meet his eyes. “You never told me you were going through anything back then. What's that about?”

Noah faltered for a second, eyes darting away from yours again, and for a moment, you saw something almost panicked flicker across his face.

“It’s not important,” he said quickly, dismissively, his fingers tightening in the fabric of your shirt. “It was a long time ago, and that's not the point. What I’m trying to say here is that you’re not me, and it doesn't have to be like that for you. You have options.”

You swallowed hard, heart picking up speed inside your chest at the words, the mention of another option.

“It didn't mean anything to me, and I don't want you to have the same shitty experience.” Noah’s voice softened, but there was still an edge of something rough in it. “You deserve to have your first time with someone who actually cares—someone who’ll notice if you’re scared, who’ll be patient. Someone who’s gonna make sure it’s good for you.”

A lump formed in your throat, because—this was it, wasn’t it? You knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and it terrified you. This was the moment, the tipping point where everything could change.

The safe route would be to dismiss it entirely—just go to bed and pretend this talk never happened, try to protect that friendship you’d always had with Noah. But as you sat there, your stomach fluttered with a warmth that twisted something inside you.

With a rush of heat flooding your veins, you made your choice, and instead of shying away from this, you opened your mouth and went down the scary route, voice barely a whisper when you asked him:

“And who would that someone be, Noah?”

For a long moment, Noah didn’t say anything.

He just stared at you, his eyes holding you in place as if he were searching for something. His breathing was measured, controlled, like he was trying to hold himself together, but you could see it, just barely—that quiet breaking point inside of him.

You weren’t sure what to do, or if you even could do anything at all to make this easier. The silence between you two stretched long enough that it almost felt suffocating, but you didn’t dare look away. You needed to know.

His voice was barely audible when it finally came, hoarse and vulnerable.

“Me.”

The word hung there between you, fragile and burning.

You stared at him—at the boy who had been your best friend for years, who had held you through every heartbreak, who knew every single one of your fears and dreams—and suddenly everything made too much sense.

The way he touched you sometimes, lingering like he didn’t mean to. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he held you, like he never intended to let go if you didn't make him.

Your heart raced in your chest, thumping against your ribs like it wanted to break free. Your mouth felt dry as you stared into his eyes and realized the truth that had been there all along:

It was Noah.

It had always been Noah.

That feeling you hadn’t named yet, the things unsaid, were now slipping through the cracks.

“If you’ll let me,” he added quietly when you took too long to speak, scared, voice breaking at the edges. “I could be that person.”

You didn’t know what to do with that realization, but you didn’t need to figure it out right away. Not with him. Not at this moment. And for once, you didn’t overthink it. You didn’t run.

Noah was still staring at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, like he was waiting for you to reject him, to make everything easier to walk away from. Instead, you reached out and threaded your fingers through his, squeezed.

“Okay,” you whispered, the words trembling in your chest. “You, then.”

Noah froze for the second time that night.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might’ve misheard you. But then his eyes darkened with something intense—relief, yes, but also something much stronger, something you haven't seen in him before.

He reached out for you, fingers brushing your cheek softly before cupping it, his touch a mix of reverence and disbelief.

“I trust you,” you said, stronger now, your voice steady, even if your heart felt anything but. “I want it to be you, if that's an option.”

His mouth opened, like he wanted to say more—anything, everything—but all that came out was a shaky, amazed chuckle. He closed his eyes for a split second, like he was gathering himself, before looking back at you with such intensity you almost couldn’t stand it.

“We’ll take it slow,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything he was feeling. “As slow as you need.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you even as your mind raced. Turning your head slowly, you nuzzled against his palm, feeling the roughness of his skin against your cheek.

The tenderness of the moment overwhelmed you in the best of ways, the heat between you building, and with it, the longing you’d tried so hard to pretend wasn't there for all those years.

And then, barely above a whisper, you breathed out:

“I’m not so sure I want slow now.”

Noah’s whole body seemed to tighten at the words, as if he were holding back a storm. The groan that left his chest was low, almost helpless, and when he finally kissed you, it didn't feel like just a kiss—it was everything he’d been holding in, all the years of tension and want finally crashing over you both like a wave.

It started almost shaky—his lips molding over yours carefully, tasting, testing.

But when you sighed into him, when your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his hoodie and tugged him closer, it snapped something loose. Noah kissed you harder, one hand sliding around the back of your neck, the other spanning your waist, big and warm and there as he pulled you into him.

You shifted without a second thought, climbing into his lap, straddling him on the couch. Your bare thighs bracketed his hips, your t-shirt brushing against the skin of his arms where he’d shoved the sleeves of his hoodie up. He groaned softly into your mouth at the feeling of you settling over him like that—like you belonged there—and let his hands roam.

He caressed his way up your thighs, squeezing lightly, making you gasp. Over your hips, your waist, the small of your back—exploring, learning, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

You gasped louder against his mouth when the tip of his fingers slipped under your shirt, barely skimming over your heated skin, and he shuddered, breaking the kiss just long enough to look at you.

“Tell me if you want me to stop…” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, already breathing hard.

“I don’t. I won't.” You whispered, breathless, and kissed him again, deeper this time.

After that, it got heated fast—hands everywhere, breathing uneven, small needy sounds spilling from you without thought.

Noah’s hoodie was bunched up between you, and you tugged at it blindly, a frustrated noise crawling up your throat because you wanted it off, making him chuckle against your mouth before helping you pull it over his head and toss it aside.

You flattened your palms against his now bare chest—feeling the steady thud of his heart, the solid warmth of him—and he squeezed your hips like he was grounding himself, trying to keep control, to be careful.

But you didn’t want careful, so you pressed your body closer, hips rolling without even meaning to, grinding your center against the soft front of his basketball shorts. You could feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin material, and when you hesitantly grazed your fingers over the fabric, that seemed to do the trick—Noah groaned, swiftly wrapping his arms around you and lifting you effortlessly off the couch along with him.

You squeaked in surprise, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, arms around his neck, but he just chuckled—a breathless, beautiful sound—as he carried you down the hallway. Catching your gaze, his lips curved into that crooked smile that always made your breath catch.

“Bedroom,” he muttered before ducking down and pressing his soft lips to your throat, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses there as he walked. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on a couch.”

Noah kicked the bedroom door open and crossed over to his bed in two quick strides, laying you down gently, like you were something breakable, something precious. And when he climbed over you, bracing his weight carefully so he wouldn't crush you, and looked down with those stormy eyes of his—so full of want, so full of need—you just knew.

You were never getting over this, never getting over him.

You didn’t want to.

Noah just stayed there, hovering over you for a breathless moment—his chest heaving, arms trembling slightly from how hard he was holding himself back. You reached up without hesitation, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging gently on the soft strands.

The reaction was immediate: he groaned, low, borderline broken, and leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself—like you were gravity and he had no choice but to fall.

His hand reached up and closed around your wrist, gentle but firm, and he pulled your hand from his hair to bring it to his mouth instead, pressing a slow, lingering kiss into your palm, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough and tender all at once.

“So are you,” you whispered, accompanied by a shaky little laugh, heart slamming against your ribs.

That made him smile—small, a little unsteady. Like he was just as nervous about this as you were. He turned his head and kissed your wrist next, lingering there for a moment longer before finally letting your hand go.

And then he was leaning back in, sealing his mouth to yours again—slower this time, deeper—like he wanted to taste every single breath you gave him. His hands started moving again, reverent and hungry, skimming down your sides, over your hips, down to squeeze the soft skin of your thighs.

When his mouth finally broke from yours, he didn’t go far. He just kept kissing a path across your jaw, down your neck, leaving a few more warm, open-mouthed kisses that made your whole body arch toward him, desperate for more.

“You feel so good, baby… so soft,” he murmured against your throat, his voice low and raspy, like the words were being dragged out of him.

You whimpered his name, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

“Tell me if I do something you don't like, yeah?” He said softly but firmly. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, like he couldn’t help himself, needing to touch. “At any point, you tell me if you don't like something, and I’ll stop. I mean it.”

Your heart cracked wide open for him.

“I trust you.” You whispered, eyes shining as you nodded and reached forward, pulling him back.

Something flickered across his face at that, and then he was moving again. His hands slipped under your t-shirt fully this time, fingertips ghosting up your ribcage, and you gasped at the feeling of his palms against your bare skin. Noah eased your shirt up, pausing with a questioning look, and all you could do was nod again, breathless, heart in your throat.

Carefully, he peeled it over your head and tossed it aside, leaving your upper body bare to his gaze—his eyes darkened instantly, raking over you with a reverence that made your skin prickle. For a long moment, he just stared, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he needed to burn the sight of you into memory.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, and then he ducked his head down, kissing along your collarbone, giving it his full attention before trailing lower.

You gasped when his mouth closed around your nipple—gentle, teasing—his tongue flicking slow, delicious circles over the sensitive skin. He gave it a soft, careful bite before soothing it with his tongue, pulling a broken little sound from you that made him groan against your chest. Moving to the other side, Noah gave it just as much attention, his big hands holding your ribs like he was scared you might slip away if he didn’t anchor you, if he didn't hold you down.

You arched up into him instinctively, needing more, needing everything, and Noah’s hands slid lower, gripping your waist, kneading the flesh there like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His fingers found the hem of your shorts at some point, toying with the waistband as he pressed his mouth lower, kissing a slow, hot path down your stomach, the scruff on his jaw dragging against your skin in a way that made you shiver. When he reached your lower belly, just above where your shorts sat, he nipped softly at the sensitive skin there, earning a whimper from you.

That’s when Noah stilled, mouth still pressed to your skin, and looked up at you through heavy, hooded eyes—his gaze burning. One of your hands threaded into his hair again, tugging lightly, and the way he closed his eyes at the feeling made your heart stumble. Wordlessly, you nodded once his eyes set back on you, giving him the permission he so clearly needed.

He kissed your stomach again, reverently, before hooking his fingers under the waistband and carefully, slowly, tugging your shorts down—inch by excruciating inch—exposing more of you to his hungry eyes. Once he pulled your shorts off and tossed them somewhere over his shoulder without taking his eyes off you, you were left trembling beneath him, stripped down to just your underwear, and Noah looked at you like you were a miracle he didn’t deserve.

You felt his gaze like a physical thing, heavy and hot, making your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat over and over.

Slowly, he ran his hands up your legs—starting at your ankles, dragging his palms over your calves, your knees, your thighs, until he was cradling your hips, thumbs stroking circles into your skin.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” He rasped, voice shaking, raw with emotion. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And the way he said it—not just like he wanted you, but like he worshipped you—made your whole body ache with need, the throbbing between your legs almost unbearable by now.

You couldn’t stop the way your body shifted restlessly, legs spreading just that much wider, silently begging for more, needing him. It made Noah chuckle softly—like he could feel the way you were unraveling for him—and then he was lowering himself again, dragging the tip of his tongue just above the waistband of your panties, from one hipbone to the other.

You whimpered, and your hands found his hair again, tugging him closer without thinking.

Noah groaned deep in his chest at your touch, and his hands slid higher, smoothing up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, your ribs, until they found the swell of your breasts, squeezing gently. He paused, and looking up at you through his lashes, he grinned—slow, wicked—and moved lower to mouth over the damp fabric of your panties, pressing an open-mouthed kiss right against the heat of you.

You gasped, arching off the bed with a choked sound, and Noah groaned again, deeper this time, and kept going—kissing, licking, sucking, teasing through the thin barrier until you were clutching his hair in both hands, tugging hard, trembling.

“Fuck,” he moaned quietly against you, voice low and hungry. He nuzzled his face into you like it was the most natural thing, breathing you in, already addicted. “Oh, baby… you’re already soaking wet for me.”

Another slow, filthy kiss through the fabric, so warm it felt like burning. Another whimper ripped from your throat.

He lifted his gaze to meet yours again—eyes dark and glazed—and while one hand continued to tease your breasts, the other slid up your thigh, thumb stroking along the sensitive crease where your hip met your core, making you shiver.

“Been thinking about this for so long,” Noah rasped, kissing the damp cotton again, mouthing at it lazily. “Thinking about you like this. How fucking sweet you’d taste.”

You couldn’t stop the helpless little whimpers spilling from your lips, your hips rolling instinctively against Noah’s mouth as he kissed you through your underwear—slow, purposeful, almost torturous.

Your hands tightened in his hair yet again, needing something to ground yourself to, your heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

“Noah,” you gasped, the sound broken, desperate, and you felt him smile against you—the smug curve of his mouth pressed right where you needed him most.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured, breath hot against you. “Gonna take my time with you.”

You tried to bite back a moan, but the second he sucked gently at the damp fabric again, your thighs trembled around his head and the sound tore free from your throat. You felt dizzy, drunk on the feeling of him, every nerve in your body sparking to life under his touch.

“Noah, please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for anymore—just more, just him, just now.

He hummed, pleased, and the vibration sent a sharp bolt of pleasure shooting through you.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he said, and your face flushed so hot it nearly burned.

But you didn’t stop—you couldn’t. Not when he slipped two fingers under the soaked fabric, finally pushing it aside, and leaned in to taste you properly, giving you a long, slow lick—flat and firm, from your entrance to your clit—and so good it made your whole body jolt.

You arched up into him, crying out his name again, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

All you could do was clutch his hair, hips rocking helplessly against his tongue as your voice broke again.

“Don’t stop, Noah, please—don’t stop—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.

As he kept tasting, taking, he groaned against you like he was the one falling apart, sucking your clit gently into his mouth and teasing it with the tip of his tongue until your thighs shook around his head.

“Fuck,” he muttered between kisses and licks, voice hoarse, lips slick with you. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

His free hand still around your breast started squeezing again, teasing your nipple with his thumb while his mouth worked you over relentlessly, eating you out like he was starved. You whimpered something broken and incoherent, tugging at his hair hard enough to sting, nails scratching his scalp. Noah just hummed against your clit as he enjoyed it, sending another ripple of pleasure straight through you.

“That’s it, don’t hold back.” He encouraged, tongue teasing you mercilessly, “Let me hear you. Let me feel you.”

And you did—because with the way he was worshiping you, savoring you, there was no way you could stay quiet, no way you could survive this slow, devastating pleasure without falling apart in his mouth.

You were already spiraling toward the edge, your body tensing and shaking and aching for release—and the way he kept murmuring sweet, filthy things against your skin only dragged you closer, unraveling every last bit of you.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

It was perfect.

You were so close—so close—your whole body tightening, hips stuttering against Noah’s mouth, and then a sharp, involuntary clench ripped through you.

Noah felt it—you knew he did, because he groaned low in his chest—and then he pulled back.

You sobbed out a desperate sound, trembling beneath him, but before you could even form the words to beg, he was hooking his fingers into the waistband of your soaked panties, finally dragging them down your legs and tossing them somewhere across the room.

“Shh, baby,” he rasped, voice rough as he soothed you. “I’ve got you.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, still shivering from the edge he’d left you dangling from—and then he was crawling up your body, covering you again with his weight, kissing you deep and slow. You whimpered against his mouth at the taste—your taste—on his tongue, and the filthy intimacy of it made your head spin.

He swallowed every broken sound you made, one of his hands cradling your jaw, the other braced beside your head, arm trembling slightly as he supported his weight, grinding his hips down against you.

You gasped into his mouth when you felt him—hard and so warm, even through the thin material of his shorts, pressing right against your core.

“Can you feel that?” Noah whispered against your lips, his voice low and hoarse. “Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

He rolled his hips again, harder this time, deliberately, and you whimpered helplessly.

“Do you get now just how fucking crazy you make me?”

Your hands scrambled at him, fingers digging into skin, desperate to pull him closer, to feel more.

“Noah,” you breathed, a pleading note in your voice you didn’t even try to hide.

He kissed you again, devouring—and rocked against you one more time, dragging yet another choked little cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, your throat, retracing a path he’d already explored. “And you’re mine, aren't you? You’re mine.”

You nodded frantically, your body straining toward him. Noah chuckled softly at your eagerness and kissed down your chest again, lavishing attention on every inch of you until he reached the curve of your stomach.

He paused there, hands sliding down your trembling thighs, gently spreading you open wider for him.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with need. “Gonna stretch you out on my fingers real nice now, get you ready for me.”

Your breath hitched loudly at his words, a rush of heat surging through you as you watched him settle between your legs again—this time with a kind of determined adoration that made your heart ache.

Noah pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, closer to where you needed him. And then he lowered his mouth to you again.

You gasped, hands flying to his hair like before, fingers curling tight when you felt the first slow swipe of his tongue over your aching core again, the wet muscle parting your slick folds.

You barely had time to process the overwhelming feeling of his warm tongue directly against you again before you felt one of his hands joining in, his fingers teasing lightly at your entrance, slick and desperate for him.

“Can I?” he asked against your clit, mouth still working you over in soft, devastating licks.

“Yes,” you gasped, tugging his hair, needing him, needing everything.

Noah moaned, and slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, the sensation making you whimper and arch into him.

“So tight, baby.” He muttered brokenly when you clenched around his digit, kissing the inside of your thigh like he needed to ground himself, too. “So fucking perfect.”

He moved slowly, working you open with careful, patient strokes of his finger, all while his mouth never stopped—licking, sucking, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough. When he thought you were ready, he slid in a second finger, stretching you wider, deeper, and you cried out for the millionth time, hips rolling down against him, chasing the friction you craved.

“That’s it,” Noah groaned. “Take it, princess. Gotta get you ready for me.”

You couldn’t even form words anymore, your whole world narrowing down to the feeling of him—his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, the heat of his breath, the filthy praises falling from his lips between long strokes of his tongue.

All the while, you could feel it—the slow, steady build of pleasure winding tighter and tighter inside you, ready to snap. You were so close again, completely at his mercy, and you didn’t want it any other way.

Noah felt it, too—of course, he felt it—the way your walls fluttered helplessly around his fingers as they fucked in and out of you, the way your thighs clamped around his head as if trying to keep him there forever.

“Go on, baby,” he rasped against you, voice thick and breathless, hand moving faster. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

Then he crooked his fingers, hitting something inside that almost made you scream, and that was all it took. You shattered completely, reduced to nothing more than a whimpering, broken mess as pleasure tore through you like a tidal wave.

Your whole back arched off the bed, your fingers fisting tight in Noah’s hair as he kept going, working you through every last pulse, every desperate little aftershock. You were vaguely aware of Noah moaning, too, while he licked all over your core, around his fingers still stretching you, like he was addicted to the way you tasted, the way you fell apart for him.

You barely registered when he finally pulled back, kissed his way up your shaking body, and hovered over you—his face flushed, his mouth and chin slick from you, his eyes dark with something wild.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you slowly, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue again. You whimpered into his mouth, still shaking, still high from your climax.

Noah kissed you again and again as he cradled your face in his hands like you were something fragile and precious, patient as he waited for you to come back down from your high.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured when your breathing wasn't so loud anymore, resting his forehead against yours.

You nodded, still breathless but less so now, still blinking back the tears of overwhelming pleasure pooling behind your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Fuck, I’m more than okay.”

Noah smiled against your mouth—small, crooked, so full of love. He pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you—and brushed a stray strand of hair off your forehead, his thumb stroking your cheek in soothing, grounding circles.

“Do you wanna stop here for tonight?” He asked, voice low and careful, gentle with the kind of patience that always made your heart ache. “We can, if you need to. We don’t have to do everything all at once. I’m not going anywhere.”

You blinked up at him, still flushed, trembling, and felt panic bloom in your chest at the thought of stopping now, at the thought of not feeling him completely.

“No—no, please,” you rushed out, voice cracking, hands sliding desperately up his arms, his shoulders. “I want you, I want all of you, Noah. Please.”

Noah’s eyes softened, so full of emotion that it almost hurt to look at him.

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours for a second before soothing you with a kiss to your temple, your cheek, your mouth. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. We’ll do it, okay? I want it too, princess. I want you so fucking bad.”

He said it like a confession before kissing you again, slow and lingering, like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn't achingly hard and craving relief himself. You could feel him, though—hot and hard through his basketball shorts, pressing against you—and a frustrated little sound broke from you because it wasn’t enough, the layers between you feeling unbearable.

Without second-guessing, you let your hands slide down his bare chest—hot and solid under your touch—until you were pulling impatiently at the waistband of his basketball shorts with clumsy little tugs.

Noah pulled back just enough to look at you, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth, his eyes dark with heat.

“You want them off me, princess?” He teased, voice rough and sweet all at once, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

“Yes.” Your face burned, but you refused to look away—you nodded, all flushed and desperate, and whispered, “I—I want to see you.”

Something about that—the honesty of it, the way your voice trembled—made the teasing fall right off his face.

Noah sat back on his heels between your spread legs, kneeling there, before he pushed his shorts down slowly, the fabric sliding over his thighs until it bunched at his knees. He kicked them off the bed without ever standing up, leaving him in just his tight black underwear.

The sight of him made your whole body clench, heat flooding your core all over again.

His cock strained against the thin fabric, thick and heavy and leaking, leaving a dark wet spot at the tip, and your mouth parted at the sight, a needy little gasp slipping from your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

Noah’s smirk returned, lazy and devastating.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He rasped, palming himself through the thin material, deliberately showing off for you. He stroked himself lazily, the pressure making his hips jerk slightly, a low groan rumbling out of him.

Your entire body ached at the sight, heat flooding between your legs, making you shift restlessly on the bed. Noah watched you squirm, his hand still working himself through the cotton, and tilted his head slightly, voice rough with need, but still amused.

“Is this enough for you?” He murmured. “Or do you wanna see more?”

“More,” you whispered immediately, almost desperate.

He smiled again, much too pleased, and reached for the waistband of his underwear, fingers hooking into the sides. But before he could push it down, you shot forward, sitting up fast enough to make his eyes widen in surprise for a second.

Your hands closed around his wrists, stopping him.

“Let me,” you whispered, voice shaking with how badly you needed this, needed him, needed to touch, to see.

For a moment, Noah just stared at you, like you’d knocked the breath clean out of his lungs. Then he nodded, slowly, amazed, his hands falling away, surrendering himself completely to you.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m all yours, princess.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and hooked them into the waistband of his underwear. Noah stayed perfectly still—watching you with that reverent look you’ve seen so many times tonight, like you were something sacred—as you slowly peeled the last barrier down his hips, revealing him inch by agonizing inch.

You sucked in a shaky breath when his cock finally sprung free and you saw him fully—thick, flushed, perfect. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and Noah groaned at the way your eyes visibly darkened, pupils blown, his cock twitching slightly under your hungry gaze.

"Jesus, baby," he rasped, voice unsteady. "You’re gonna kill me."

You didn’t even realize you were biting your lip while you stared at him until he reached out, brushing his thumb over your mouth, tugging it free with a soft, coaxing touch.

"You don’t have to be nervous," he murmured, so gentle, so patient. "We’ll go slow. I promise I'll take care of you."

"I know," you breathed, meeting his gaze. "I—I’m not nervous. I just..." Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t lie. Not now, not to him. "I want you so bad, Noah."

Something inside Noah snapped at the confession. His hands slid back to your body, pulling you against him as he kissed you hard—hungry—his cock pressing hot and heavy against your bare stomach.

He swallowed every whimper, every soft little moan you made, kissing you so deep it felt like you’d never be able to catch your breath again. His hands were everywhere—roaming your body, tracing every curve, every dip, like he couldn’t get enough of any part of you.

One of them slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly and pulling you tighter against him before Noah ground his cock against your stomach as he kissed down your neck. The weight of him there made your insides flip, heat pooling between your legs as your thighs tried to press together instinctively.

You couldn’t help it—you kept glancing down between your bodies, your face flushing deeper the longer you stared. You didn’t have much to go on—no frame of reference, not really. You’d never seen a dick in person before, let alone had one pressed against you like this, but Noah looked big.

Thick, too—perfectly thick. The kind of heavy weight that made your breath stutter in your throat, made you ache to feel him inside you even though you had no idea how you’d possibly take him.

Noah must’ve noticed where your gaze kept flickering, because he let out a soft, breathless chuckle against your neck.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind if you keep looking at me like that, baby.” He teased, his voice a low rasp as he nipped at your skin. His hand squeezed your ass again, pulling you closer so you could feel every inch of him pressed right up against your belly, precum dampening the skin.

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding in your ears as you dragged your eyes back up to his, cheeks burning.

“I just—” Your voice cracked, and you bit your lip before forcing the words out, quiet and breathless. “I didn’t know it would be like that.”

“Like what?” He asked, tone soft but still dripping with amusement as he pressed a trail of kisses along your jaw again, following it up until his lips were lingering just below your ear.

Your breath stuttered, embarrassment and arousal tangling together when you whispered, “You’re just… really big. I guess.”

Noah cursed softly at that, his hips grinding against you harder, teeth grazing your skin as his grip on you tightened, the motion sending sparks of heat straight through your core.

You chuckled shyly at his reaction, cheeks burning hotter, but couldn’t stop yourself from looking down again—your curiosity overpowering the lingering nervousness fluttering in your chest.

You hesitated for half a second, and then, in the smallest, breathiest voice, you whispered, "Can I touch you?"

Noah’s whole body jerked—a rough sound breaking free from his chest, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or moan or cry.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Yeah, baby. God, yes. Please."

He let himself fall back a little, settling more heavily on his heels as he knelt between your thighs, giving you the space, the invitation.

Your fingers still trembled a little as you reached out, but the moment you wrapped your hand around him—finally—a sharp, broken moan tore out of Noah’s throat, hips giving an involuntary little twitch at the first brush of your hand.

His cock was hot and heavy in your palm, the silky skin stretched tight over the thickness of him, pulsing faintly against your touch. You stroked him slowly, experimentally, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his stomach tensed, the way his breath hitched with every little movement.

He was—God, he was beautiful. Thick and long, with a perfect flushed tip that leaked precum, making your palm slippery as you slowly started to move your hand up and down a bit more confidently.

Noah’s head dropped back slightly, his mouth falling open in a choked-off groan. His hands fisted in the sheets beside your hips, like he was physically stopping himself from doing something reckless.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, wonderingly, tightening your fingers a little just to see his stomach twitch in response.

“Fuck, baby—” he gasped, his voice a wreck. He cracked his eyes open, looking at you through heavy lids, pupils blown wide. “Jesus, princess, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You bit your lip again, utterly fascinated by the way his body responded to even the lightest touch from you—every little gasp, every shudder, every twitch of his hips.

Encouraged, you shifted closer, wrapping your other hand around the base of him too, stroking him with slow, careful movements, getting bolder as you watched him come undone. Noah growled low in his throat, his hips jerking helplessly into your hands, his entire body tensing.

“Fucking hell, baby, you keep doing that,” he panted, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw, “and I’m not gonna last long enough to be inside you.”

You tightened your fingers a little at the praise, dragging your hands up and down in slow, careful strokes, watching the way his cock twitched and leaked under your touch. Your mouth watered for a second time at the sight, a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong it made your lower abdomen ache.

You blinked up at him, heart stuttering—and then, reckless with the heady rush of control you had over him, you whispered, “Can't have that, can we? Need you to fuck me. Want to know what you feel like stretching me open.”

You could see the moment Noah snapped.

He surged forward, kissing you hard, swallowing the whimper that escaped your lips. His hands slid back down your body, urgent now, needy—one guiding your hips back down against the bed, the other gripping the back of your thigh, hitching it up around his waist as he settled over you.

“Tell me you’re ready,” he breathed against your mouth, voice hoarse and shaking, pleading. “Tell me you want this.”

“I’m ready,” you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Please, Noah—I want you. I need you.”

He groaned like you’d just handed him the world—and then he was reaching between you, lining himself up, the thick, leaking head of his cock sliding through the slickness between your thighs, making you both shudder.

But just as he pressed a little harder, enough to make you gasp, Noah squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to stop. He let out a shuddering breath against your lips, almost in pain.

“Wait—wait a second, baby,” he rasped. His hand slipped away from you, fumbling blindly toward the nightstand. “I need to grab a condom.”

“No,” you gasped immediately, your hands flying to his chest, stopping him. “No, please—I don’t want one.”

He blinked down at you, stunned.

“Baby—fuck—I don’t wanna risk anything, and I don’t wanna—”

“I’m on the pill,” you rushed out, desperate. “Ever since we moved here I've been on the pill, I swear. I just—” You swallowed hard, flushing. “I want to feel you. All of you. Please, Noah. I want to feel it when you come inside me.”

Noah made a sound you could only describe as wrecked, his whole body shaking above you, hands trembling against your skin as he tried, tried, to hold on to the last shreds of his sanity.

“Jesus Christ, princess,” he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You kissed the side of his head, wrapping your arms around him, feeling the way he was already giving in. He always gave in to you.

“Please,” you whispered again, right against his ear. “I want all of you. I want you to make a mess of me.”

That was it.

Noah let out a harsh, broken sound, and then he was lining himself up again, nudging his hips forward, the thick head of his cock pressing in slowly—just a fraction before he froze, a strangled groan ripping from his chest.

The heat of you, the way you squeezed around just the tip of him, nearly ended him right then and there.

“Fucking hell,” he choked, voice broken. “You’re so tight.”

You whimpered, clawing at his hips instinctively as the thick stretch made you burn and sting, pleasure and pain knotting together deep in your belly. He felt huge inside you—too much and somehow not enough all at once.

Noah immediately stilled, chest heaving against yours, his hands finding your hips to anchor you—and himself—gently stroking over your skin in soothing, grounding motions.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered against your forehead, lips pressed to the already damp skin. His voice trembled with restraint. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. The pain won't last, I promise. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You nodded, desperate tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you tried to relax, breathing hard against his chin as you angled your head up. You didn’t want him to stop—you just needed a second, needed to get used to it.

Noah kissed you then, deep and soft, while he held himself there—barely inside you—until he felt the iron tightness in your muscles start to ease, your body slowly learning to open for him.

“Good girl,” he murmured into your mouth, voice breaking. He brushed his thumb over your trembling hipbone, breathing you in like a prayer. “You feel so good—so perfect around me, baby.”

You whimpered again, nails digging into the small of his back, desperate for more even through the burn.

“More,” you breathed. “Please, Noah—more.”

He let out a shuddering groan, forehead pressing against yours—and then he pushed in deeper, just an inch more, stretching you open around the thick weight of him.

You gasped, a sharp, choked sound against his mouth as the sting sharpened—your walls fluttering desperately around him—and Noah immediately kissed you again, swallowing your sounds, his whole body shaking from the effort it took to stay gentle, to stay slow.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered raggedly against your lips. “You’re taking me so good, though. Just a little more, I promise. Here, let me—”

His hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit with careful fingers, and he started circling it in slow, featherlight strokes—barely there at first, coaxing, soothing, trying to pull you back into pleasure.

You gasped again, but this time the sound was softer, needier. The burn didn’t vanish completely, but it dulled, blurred, eclipsed by the sweet rush of pleasure blooming low in your belly as Noah worked you open with his cock, his hands, his words—every part of him devoted to making it good for you.

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice shaking. His forehead rested against yours as he rocked his hips ever so slightly, still shallow, still slow. “That’s my good girl.”

You moaned, clenching helplessly around him again, and Noah nearly lost it—gritting his teeth, fighting to keep control as he felt your body start to yield to him, start to welcome him inside.

He slid deeper again, hips rocking before giving you time to adjust, to breathe through it, to feel every inch of him. And when he finally bottomed out, when his hips met the insides of your thighs and he was fully buried inside you, both of you just clung to each other—panting, trembling, overwhelmed.

You whimpered after a while, hips shifting instinctively beneath him, desperate for more, for him to move, to do something.

“You can move,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging, scratching his scalp. “Please, Noah. I need you to—”

But he shook his head, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body shuddering like he was hanging on by a thread.

“I—fuck, I need a second,” he rasped, voice breaking apart. “You feel so good, baby. Too good. If I move right now, I’ll lose it.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your hands through his hair now just to soothe him.

“How long’s it been for you?” You whispered curiously, smiling against his mouth.

Noah pulled back a little—just enough to look you in the eye—and what you saw there made your smile falter.

The rawness. The fear. The love.

It was too much for him to hide.

“Since I was eighteen,” he said hoarsely.

You blinked, stunned, your heart stumbling.

“What?” You breathed, sounding as surprised as you felt. “But—”

“My first time was my only time,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours like he needed the contact, like he needed you close enough to survive this.

You stared at him, struggling to make the dots connect through the haze in your mind.

Eighteen.

He was twenty-two now.

Only once, and nothing since.

Because—?

You barely dared to ask. Your voice cracked when you whispered:

“Why?”

He exhaled a broken little sound, closing his eyes for a second like he didn’t even know how to explain it. Then he opened them again, and you nearly drowned in the weight of his gaze.

“Because it wasn’t you,” he said simply, helplessly. “I tried, okay? I thought it would help drown out the way I felt about you.” His thumb brushed your cheek, reverent. “But it didn’t. It just made it worse. It made me realize I didn’t want anyone else. Couldn’t want anyone else.”

Your throat closed up, your eyes stinging with sudden, overwhelming tears. The full force of it crashed into you all at once—

All these years. All this time.

And he’d always loved you. Even when you hadn’t known. Even when you hadn’t seen it. Even when you pretended not to.

A shaky sob bubbled up in your chest, but you didn't want to cry, not now, not like this—so you kissed him, kissed him like you were trying to pour all the shattered pieces of yourself into him, your hands frantic against his bare skin, grabbing, gripping, squeezing.

“Noah,” you whispered, a broken plea, barely able to speak, to breathe. “Please, I—I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, and I need—”

He didn’t answer, because he didn’t have to. He knew exactly what you meant, and he gave you what you needed, like he's always done.

Only this time was so much better, because there was nothing else between you now. Nothing else in the world.

Noah drew back, just enough to pull his hips away—and then he pushed forward, sinking into you again with slow, reverent force, filling you until your back arched and a sharp gasp punched from your lungs.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, and he groaned against your mouth—deep, guttural, broken—as he moved in you, moved with you, careful, patient, trying so desperately to give you time, to give you everything.

He rocked his hips once, twice, three times, and you whimpered, wrapping your legs tighter around him like you couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.

“More,” you gasped. “Noah, please—more.”

He kissed you again, messy and breathless, and you could feel how badly he wanted to give it to you, how hard he was holding himself back just for you.

And then, when you tilted your hips to meet him, when you whispered one more desperate, wrecked, “Please” against his lips—he finally gave in.

Noah’s rhythm deepened, the slow roll of his hips picking up force, each thrust dragging another helpless sound from your throat. The ache, the stretch, the sweet friction—it was overwhelming, it was everything. It set every nerve ending alight, made your fingers scrabble at his shoulders, made your body arch into his with reckless need.

“You feel—” he choked out against your ear, losing the words as his pace quickened, as your walls fluttered around him and your moans filled the space between your bodies. “Jesus, baby—you feel so good. So fucking good.”

You couldn’t even answer—you could only hold onto him, feeling him drive into you harder, deeper, until every thought dissolved. The feeling of him inside you was almost too much, too good, driving you higher with every deep, perfect thrust.

And there was only him, only this, only forever.

Noah’s hand slid between you, finding your clit again, rubbing tight, desperate circles that made you cry out, made your body clamp down around him without warning.

“Fuck,” Noah choked out, voice breaking against your mouth. “You’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You were—you always had been—and the way you clung to him, the way your body responded, said it louder than any words ever could.

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that,” he groaned, hips stuttering as you tightened again, your body greedy for him, for all of him, the pleasure spiraling fast and out of control.

You whimpered, threading your fingers through his hair, dragging him closer, needing him deeper, needing everything.

He shifted his weight slightly, pulling one of your legs up higher around his waist, and the new angle made you keen—made him press against that devastating spot inside you with every roll of his hips.

“Right there?” he murmured, smiling against the skin of your cheek when you writhed beneath him.

“Yes, yes—oh my god, please—” You gasped, voice wrecked and high and desperate. “I’m—I’m so close, I can’t—”

“Me too,” Noah groaned, picking up his pace now, hips slapping into yours harder, faster. “You feel so good, baby—fucking made for me.”

He shifted his hips, grinding against you in a way that made the pleasure snap like a live wire through your entire body—and then you broke.

Your orgasm ripped through you so hard it nearly blinded you, your whole body locking up tight around him, shuddering, trembling, sobbing his name.

“Fuck, that's it, that's it, pretty girl,” he rasped, forehead pressing against yours, the muscles of his back flexing under your palms as he fucked you through it, driving into you faster, chasing his own high. “Fucking come for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.”

Noah cursed low and broken against your skin, thrusting deep one last time before he lost it too—burying himself to the hilt as he came, hot and overwhelming, the sound of your name on his lips like a prayer as he spilled inside you.

You clung to each other through it all, panting, shaking, completely wrecked—completely his.

When you were both done, neither of you moved for a while.

Noah stayed buried deep inside you, pressed as close as he could get, breathing hard, holding you like he never wanted to let go. His hands were everywhere again—petting your hair, tracing your spine, rubbing slow, soothing circles over your hips.

“You okay?” He finally whispered, voice hoarse, broken with tenderness.

You nodded against his shoulder, still trembling, still trying to breathe him back into your lungs.

“I’m perfect,” you whispered back. “Because of you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and the way he did it—like you were everything, nothing but unfiltered adoration in his eyes—made you feel like you were simultaneously suffocating and coming up for air.

Slowly, carefully, he eased out of you, murmuring soft apologies at the sting, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness. But before you could even miss him, Noah was gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, covering every inch of your bare skin he could reach with adoring, lingering kisses.

You both stayed like that, tangled up in each other, sweaty and shaky and wrecked, until your heartbeats finally slowed, until the only sound was your quiet breathing and the soft brush of Noah’s lips against your hair.

“I love you,” he whispered against your temple, so soft you almost thought you imagined it.

But you heard it—you heard it, and you knew, without any fear or doubt or hesitation, that you loved him too. And when you whispered it back, he pulled you impossibly closer, as if he was stitching you into his soul.

You fell asleep like that—wrapped up in Noah, wrapped up in love—knowing deep down that nothing would ever be the same again.

You couldn't have been more okay with that.

hiii, v! 🤗 i chose the "you're shaking" – "so are you" dialogue prompt for this one 'cause nobody's asked for that one yet and i wanted to try it hehe. also, i'm sorry it took me this long to post your request, but i got so carried away with this one and it turned out way bigger than i planned, so it took me a moment there to finish lol. i hope the 9.3k words of pure fluff and smut made up for the delay here. hope you enjoyed this, friend! x

#flowery-mess #request #this was so self indulgent like damn #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 days ago

Text

Damaged

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After a bad evening with your parents, Tim Bradford reminds you that you aren't damaged, and if your family won't be there for you, he will.

Warnings: abuse (emotional, verbal, and physical), 3rd party alcohol consumption, fluff and comfort, protective!Tim, platonic leading toward romantic

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Slacking off?” Tim asks. “A little early for civvies.”

You look up quickly, surprised by his presence outside the locker room. “I’m leaving early,” you explain weakly.

“I remember,” he replies, observing you. “Dinner with your parents.”

“Right.”

“Enjoy.”

Dropping your eyes to his boots, you nod and answer, “I will. Bye.”

Tim watches you go, wondering why dinner with your parents puts you on edge. Every time you mention them, your eyes shift, you grow nervous and jumpy, and the strong, confident cop he knows retreats into the shell of a scared woman. It’s a change he recognizes, one he understands, and he knows you lied when you said you’d enjoy yourself.

“You know what I think?” your dad asks.

You’re going to tell me no matter what, you think.

“Your job is bad enough,” he says, interrupting himself to take a drink. “But you could at least dress like a woman while you’re off the clock.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you try not to let his words affect you. Your parents have been like this for your entire life. Some might call it verbal abuse, while others consider it an absence of a filter. Regardless, your parents have never hesitated to point out your every insecurity. The worst part of seeing them, you think, is that they see your scars and rip those old wounds open again, tearing you down with every word they speak.

“Can you afford some new clothes?” your mother asks. “Maybe then you could find a man who’d give you a second thought.”

Chewing your inner lip, you nod silently. You feel like you’re twelve years old again, too big for the frame they try to shove you into. It’s been years since you gave up on trying to please them, but it doesn’t take away the pain.

“Although,” your dad continues, “who would want to start a family with a beat cop who could get shot at any moment?”

“Beat cops are a real family,” you mumble under your breath, fiddling with the napkin in your lap.

You don’t see your mom move, but the sharp slap sound of her palm hitting your face startles you enough that you finally look her in the eye. Your hand raises to your stinging cheek without thought. You know it won’t bruise, and something deep inside you tells you to stand up for yourself, to leave, and never look back.

“I’m getting another drink,” your dad states, stumbling slightly as he stands.

You’ve been in this exact spot too many times, you realize. So, you decide to play the part until they’re ready to leave. Sitting still, you listen, nod, and apologize as you hold back the tears threatening to spill.

“Look at the time,” your mom mutters after you serve dessert.

“And we have people who give a crap about where we are,” your dad adds, laughing at you. “We better head out. Next time we do this, don’t make the- the food like that and buy more drinks.”

“Will do,” you answer, standing.

“That didn’t sound like an apology,” your mother patronizes.

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I’ll do better next time.”

“That means we have to come back,” your dad grumbles.

Not if we can help it, you think.

“Sweetheart,” your mother says, wrapping her hand around your wrist. Her nails dig into the sensitive skin above your pulse point, but you level your expression. “You need to try harder.”

“Sure. I will.”

She releases your hand, but your dad takes it just as quickly, his grip tighter and stronger than hers. You pull back instinctively, and he raises his other hand. When you cower away from him, dropping your chin, he laughs and twists the skin of your arm harshly.

“Better food,” he seethes. “Better news. If we come over here again and you’re still a disappointment… Just don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” you force out.

You stand in place, staring at the dirty dishes on your table as the door slams behind them. Alone, you stumble backward until you hit the wall, your vision growing blurry with tears. Sinking to the floor, you let yourself cry, and within a minute, heavy sobs shake your entire body. You feel paralyzed, your mind viciously reminding you that you and your parents are on a crashing course that only worsens with time.

But, you remember, they are your parents. They loved you at some point, but it’s always been like this. Maybe you are the problem, a voice you don’t recognize says in your mind.

You want to forget tonight, forget the pain in your chest and along your skin, so you reach for your phone. You’re texting Tim before you think about it. You don’t know what to say, but you’re desperate. Anything would be a welcome distraction, so you ask if he’s busy.

It changes from Delivered to Read, but he doesn’t reply. So, you toss your phone aside and pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself as if it will make the world disappear.

A knock on your front door pulls you out of your teary reverie that is on the constant brink of returning to the nightmare of reality. Walking to the door, you hope that it isn’t your parents. You look through the peephole before you open the door, sure your surprise is evident.

“What happened?” Tim asks, his face softening when he sees your tear-stained face and red cheek.

You shake your head as you step back, and Tim follows you inside, closing the door softly.

“Did your parents come over?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, laughing humorlessly. “They were here.”

“Hey,” Tim says. You hold the back of your chair and stare at the table again. “Hey,” he repeats firmly. “Look at me.”

You turn your chin toward him, your eyes glassy and your skin blotchy.

“You’re okay,” he promises, spreading his hands with his palms toward you. “Whatever they said, whatever they made you believe, it’s a lie. Your parents are… they’re abusive.”

“They just-”

“Crossed a line,” Tim interrupts. “I see it every time you mention them. I don’t know what they said or did, but if it brought you here, they are the problem. Not you.”

You rub your chest, failing to lessen the pressure there before Tim steps toward you. When you don’t stop him, he lays his hand on your shoulder.

“What if they’re right?” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

Tim looks between your eyes, then says, “What if my dad was right?”

Your eyes clear as you look at Tim. His question, his vulnerability, brings you back into this moment. Tim is here because he saw something in you. Despite his gruff exterior, he cares about you. And now he’s sharing something about himself to help you. To save you.

“My dad was abusive,” he says. “He shoved my head through plaster, yelled at me, belittled me, made me doubt myself and all that I could do. You? You’re stronger than you think, stronger than your parents make you feel. You are not what or who they say.”

“Then why am I like this?” you wonder.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Tim repeats, his thumb brushing kindly, comfortingly over your shoulder.

“They…” you begin. “Their voices are in my head constantly, and it’s so loud.”

“They talk with razors on their tongue just to provoke your combat, use new weapons to snap those final strings just to watch you fall back,” Tim replies. “I get it. Their voices, their lies, they follow you everywhere because they’ve ingrained them into you.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, wiping the tears from your face. “How do you do everything that you do, and do it well and confidently, after going through it?”

“You know who you are and what you can do. Place your confidence and your belief in that, not the words they yell trying to make themselves feel like they’re better than you.”

“I don’t think I can do that, Tim,” you argue, shaking your head as you sink into your chair.

“Then shut them up, drown them out, listen to me,” Tim encourages, moving with you. “Whatever it takes.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy. I’m not as strong as you Tim.”

“You’re stronger,” he insists. “And I’m here for you. You’re not alone, okay?”

You nod, willing yourself to believe him. Tim takes your hand, and when your sleeve shifts, he sees the bruise forming around your wrist. Without hesitation, he pushes the fabric up to your elbow, revealing the darkening patch and angry red scratch marks.

“They touched you?” he asks, his voice different than before as he stares at your arm.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Was it the first time?”

“I…”

Tim releases your hand as he stands. Your unwillingness to answer was better confirmation than he would have received if you had said yes. Tim moves toward the door, on his way to leaving you alone. Again.

“Tim,” you call, your voice strained as tears well in your eyes once more.

He slows, his hand on the doorknob. “They touched you.”

“Please,” you plead.

“I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Tim, please don’t leave me,” you whisper, fresh tears running down your face, the salt stinging your raw skin.

He sighs, turning toward you. As he returns to your side, he makes a promise to himself. No one will ever hurt you like this again. He let his dad impact his life for years after he moved away from home. When his dad got sick, it felt as if a strong current was pulling him into the nightmare his dad created all over again. If your parents are so willing to take you for granted, to hurt you, then Tim Bradford will be at your side to stop them from damaging you.

You’re not alone. As long as Tim is breathing, you never will be.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯#the rookie x reader #the rookie abc

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hannahsturniolo · 2 days ago

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ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴄᴏɴғᴇssɪᴏɴ

Warnings: drinking, drunk, kissing, rejection

Summary: Chris(your best friend) picked you up from a party when you were drunk, and you confessed your love for him.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Chris arrived in the driveway to pick you up since he agreed to drive you to and from a party you were going to.

He knocked on your front door as you were putting on your last black heel.

You opened the door.

You were standing there in a dark blue tight dress, your hair in a tight curly ponytail, and all dolled up.

“Woah..” Chris said in awe.

“What?” You laughed.

“Boys are going to be all over you wearing that Y/N. be careful tonight.” He told you.

“No they won’t Chris” you said playfully hitting his arm, while you both walked out the door.

You got in his car.

“You look very beautiful by the way, I just wanted to let you know.” He smiled.

“Thank you! I’m hoping to meet my future husband maybe tonight?” You laughed. “I’m going to a party that I know only one person at, it’s all new people. Who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love?”

Chris giggled. “Well be careful, text me when you’re ready to go, and I’ll be here.”

You hopped out of the car and into the party.

First thing people were doing was shots. You’ve never had shots before, but you wanted to try them.

You walked over to the table of people doing shots, side by side with your friend.

You ended up taking way too many shots.

You were wobbling around the party. Guys trying to chat with you, but for some reason all you could think about was Chris.

You turned to your best friend, very drunk, “I think I might be in love with Chris” you said while dancing side by side with her.

Your friend turned to you, “you’re serious, Y/N? I thought he was just your friend.”

“I don’t know, I just can’t stop thinking about him, wishing he was here.” You replied with a sad face.

You walked over to where people were making drinks, and people were pouring you drink after drink after drink.

“Should I tell Chris?” You asked your best friend.

“Y/N you’re just drunk… you’ve never told me you liked him like that.” She replied worried. “Don’t make decisions like that when you’re drunk.”

You thought to yourself. Maybe you are just drunk. Chris is your best friend. He doesn’t see you like that either. You couldn’t be making decisions like that when drunk.

You were getting fed up of drinking and thought you had enough to drink, so you texted Chris to come get you.

“Chrissy I’m rahdy to leaveeeee”

“On my way, wow you really are drunk lol”

He texted back.

~~~~~~

He pulled up to pick you up. He got out of the car as he seen you stumbling towards the car.

He grabbed your hand, and helped you into the passenger seat.

He then closed the passenger side door and got in the drivers seat.

“I brought you some water, I don’t want you to get sick.” He said worried.

“Thanksssss chrisssssy” you said looking at him giggling.

Chris just laughed, and started to drive.

You reached over to his leg, and started moving your hand up to try and palm him through his pants.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He said pulling your hand away from his upper leg. “You’re drunk, I don’t want you doing things when you’re not sober”

He took a deep breath. He wanted this so bad, but you were drunk.

“But I want you chrissssy” you pouted.

“You don’t want me Y/N, you’re just drunk.” He repeated.

“No, I want you.” You looked him in the eyes, trying to look like you were serious. “Chris…. I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you. I just want you”

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest.

“I’m going to say this because I know you’re drunk,and you might not remember, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, but I’ve been in love with you too. I just can’t do anything with you if you’re drunk. You’re staying the night at my house, and if you really want to do things when you’re sober; we can. But as of right now baby, I can’t take advantage of you being drunk.” He told you holding onto your hand.

You were in shock. Did he just say he was in love with me too? How do I prove to him that I am sober enough that I understand what he’s saying, and I’m saying the things I mean?

“I get it..” you said with a pout. “But just know I’m sober enough to be telling you the truth.”

Chris sighed. He wanted this so bad.

“Tomorrow morning, if you want, we can have sex but right now is a no. I’m sorry.” He said looking over at you.

We pulled into his driveway. You and Chris both looked at each other, in shock.

You leaned over to the drivers seat where Chris was sitting, and gave him a soft kiss.

Chris pulled away. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

You just sat there and sobbed. I can’t prove I’m sober enough.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

If you want a part 2, let me know? I can try and make a part 2 to this. Maybe the morning after?

This is probably my favourite thing I’ve ever wrote😭😭

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Taglist:

@sophand4n4 @courta13 @heartsonlyforchris

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt fluff #matt x reader #chris fluff #chris x reader

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sweetdispatch · 8 hours ago

Note

8 pieces with panda cotta, honey, and marshmallows

Laundry - L. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: A bet with your friend helped you to admit your feelings to Luke but he doesn't know about it warning: none

You’ve met Luke in university and something clicked between you two. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and how great he is. You wanted him as someone else rather than just a friend but you weren’t sure if he feels the same. He never showed you that you two might have a chance as a couple.

But Luke was just shy. He really liked you and didn’t want to scare you by throwing himself at you. He thought that it’s too fresh to even think about being a couple, that's why he was waiting for the proper moment. 3 months went by and he still treated you as a friend. You felt heartbroken and your friend could tell that this situation is bugging you.

“Just ask him” Your friend told you.

“What the hell am I supposed to ask him?” You looked at her.

“Ask him out. I don’t know, take him to a diner and just tell him how you feel” She shrugged.

“I can’t. I don’t want to look desperate” You sighed and threw yourself on a bed.

“Okay, let’s do it your way. I bet that you two will end up together after dinner. I’ll do your laundry for the rest of the semester if i’m right” She said knowing that this is the only way to motivate you.

“And what if you’re wrong?” You asked her.

“You’ll be doing my laundry” She smiled at you and you laughed.

“Deal” You shook her hand and texted Luke to ask him to go with you to the diner.

Your friend was right. When you admitted your feelings to Luke, he told you exactly the same thing. You two became a couple after the dinner and nothing could be better. He was your rock and you were his biggest supporter. Something that was scary for him at first, was an incredible experience.

With every day, you two had been stronger than ever. Even when Luke left to play in New Jersey, both of you could feel the love radiating. After his season was finished, you were having your finals and that’s why, he decided to visit you in your dorm instead of going back home. He knocked on your door and your friend opened them.

“Luke, hi” She hugged him.

“Is Y/N there?” Luke asked her.

“She’s in the library but you can wait for her here because I’m leaving. Also your welcome” She said and left the room.

Luke was confused about what she meant by that. He was thinking about it all the time he was in your dorm. After an hour, the door opened and you spotted him sitting on your bed. You threw your bag on the floor and jumped into his arms.

“I missed you” You kissed his cheek.

“I missed you too. I didn’t know you’re now studying in the library” Luke joked.

“I had to go there. My friend was arguing with her parents over the phone and I couldn’t focus so I went there” You told him while still hugging him. “I’m so happy to see you here”

“Can I ask you a question?” You nodded your head. “What did your friend mean by saying your welcome to me?”

You froze in his arms. You completely forgot to tell him that she was the one who made the stupid bet to motivate you to ask him out and tell you about your feelings. You knew you had to tell him the truth but you didn’t want to ruin your relationship. You sat down on the bed next to him and took a deep breath.

“Remember the night when we became a couple?” You asked him carefully.

“Of course. How could I forget?” Luke told you.

“It was kinda a bet with her” You said and Luke looked at you surprised. “But listen, I had feelings for you but I was too scared to tell you about them so she made a bet with me to tell you this. She knew that this will motivate me to finally admit the truth to you”

“So if not her bet, we would still be only friends?” Luke asked you.

“Probably” You told him quietly.

“Well I’m gonna thank her personally” Luke stood up ready to do it. “That was the best thing she ever did”

“I don’t even know where she is. This can wait till tomorrow” You told him shocked that he’s not mad about it. “Everything is fine between us? Because I know how this looks and I will completely understand if you’re mad at me” You said and looked at your hands.

“Look at me” You didn’t react so Luke gently placed his hand under your chin. “I’m not mad. I couldn’t be mad at you, especially if this helped us to be together” Luke placed a kiss on your forehead and you smiled.

“If you want, we can go to the store and buy her something for being the wingman” You proposed and Luke nodded his head. He grabbed your hand and both of you went out to pick flowers and candies for your friend as a thank you.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes oneshot #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils #v' bakery

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revelboo · 3 days ago

Note

Can we get more tfa blurr pretty please

Sure!

A-Ok Pt 5

TFA Blurr x Reader

• He made it all of two minutes being still and now he’s back to restlessly moving about, hands dancing around as he talks. Glancing at you while he tries to explain his people’s war and his role as a spy. And he’s definitely not Bond or Hunt. But he’s so serious it’s almost funny, trying so hard to fill a role he’s very obviously ill suited for. “Why a spy?” You ask when he’s finished.

• Freezes because he knows that tone. How many times has he heard it and known the person asking thinks he can’t do this. That it’s not meant for him. And his servos flex as his attention dips to his hands. He’s been asked this so many times and he’s always answered with the appropriate answer. The one expected of him. That he only wishes to serve Cybertron, but you’re not Cybertronian. “When I was a youngling, I raced,” he says, smiling faintly as he remembers the noise of the crowd, the exhilaration of fighting his way to the front, pushing himself to win. Moving so fast he might as well have been flying.

• “I bet you won a lot.” Or every single time as speedy as he is and he smiles. A real smile that transforms that serious, frowning face. Makes him handsome in an alien way. “You should smile more,” you add. And you expect him to brag, to tell you all about his victories, but his expression goes oddly blank and closed off.

• “They said it was a fringe group. Decepticon wannabes,” he says, as the details of that day slot into place, all jagged edges that still hurt him. “Never figured out why they targeted the arena, maybe just because of how many were in attendance.” And he’s talking too fast, servos trembling faintly. Remembers the first explosion, he’d been so far ahead of the pack he’d been spared. But everyone else? His friends and fellow racers? “But it was them. I know it was them. That the Decepticons were back no matter what the senate said.”

• He’s shaking. Staring at his hands as they shake, a survivor’s guilt and anger. Making you realize it’s not duty or honor driving him. It’s revenge. And you may not really understand anything about his people, his war, but you still hurt for him because he’d saved you when you’d screwed up even though he hadn’t had to. Even though he’d blown his cover doing it. “And you think they’re here on Earth? These Decepticons?” He nods, servos curling under into fists. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

#transformers x reader #blurr x reader #tfa blurr

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emmiesoverthemoon · 16 hours ago

Text

what's a little ink?

pairing: han jisung x reader

word count: 7.3k

summary: you wanted the upper hand. you came for a tattoo. you also came for him. and somehow you ended up in his hoodie, eating his eggs, and wondering how a bet turned into this stupid, soft thing you just can’t resist wanting

tags: tattoo artist au, friends to lovers, fluff and smut. porn with plot. sweet, sappy, and gross romance. enjoy

requested by @burlesquerade hope u like it honey

It all started with a simple, completely ridiculous bet. You and Han had been hanging out for hours, as you often did, swapping old stories and making fun of each other’s quirky habits. Laughter echoed around the cozy living room, the kind of laughter that was easy and natural, the way it always was when the two of you were together.

"Okay," Han said, a sly grin spreading across his face. He leaned forward, eyes glinting with that playful spark you knew all too well. "If you can beat me at this stupid game one more time, I will get you whatever you want as a prize."

You raised an eyebrow, already suspecting he might be setting you up for something ridiculous. "Whatever I want? Really?"

"Yep. No holds barred. You name it, and it’s yours," Han assured you, his tone full of confident mischief. "But if I win…" He paused for dramatic effect, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of his breath on your cheek. “You have to let me tattoo you.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Tattoo me? Really? That’s your big gamble?”

Han’s smile grew wider. “I’m a tattoo artist, remember? It's a fair trade. I think you’re too scared to let me do it.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, your fingers tapping idly on your cup. “Scared? Please. I’m not scared of a tattoo.”

His eyes narrowed, a challenge sparking in their depths. “Oh, so now you’re saying you can handle it? Alright then. You’re on. But we both know I’m going to win.”

You gave him a playful smirk. “Big talk for someone who has no idea what they’re up against.”

The game you were playing—a mix of cards, trivia, and guessing games—was silly, and it didn’t take long for the competition to become heated. But, much to your surprise, you did win. By a narrow margin, of course, but a win was a win.

Han’s mouth dropped open in disbelief, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from gloating too much. You had been expecting him to be smug, but now, as the reality of the situation sank in, you saw a flicker of something else cross his features.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, trying to hide his grin. “You won. So what do you want?”

You leaned back in the chair, considering your options. There were so many things you could ask for—something extravagant, maybe—but you had been thinking about this for a while. Han had been inking people for years now, and you had always wondered what it would feel like to have him work on you.

So, you decided to go for it.

“I want a tattoo,” you said with a straight face, barely able to hide the excitement in your voice.

He blinked at you. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“Totally,” you answered, your grin impossible to hide. “You’re going to ink me, Han. And you can’t back out.”

He stared at you for a long moment, as if trying to make sure you weren’t joking, but then the challenge returned in his eyes.

“Well, if I have to do this, I get to choose where,” he said, his tone slightly mischievous. “No complaints, okay?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Fine. As long as I get to decide what the design is, I’ll leave the location to you.”

Han smirked and held out his hand. “Deal.”

The text from Han came just before noon.

“Hope you’re not chickening out. Studio at 3. Wear something loose. ;)”

You stared at your phone longer than you meant to, heat crawling up your neck. Chickening out? Hardly. But that stupid winking face was another story. He always knew how to push just the right buttons—just enough to make your pulse quicken, just enough to stir things that should probably stay buried.

Still, you showed up. Of course you did.

His studio was tucked into a quiet side street downtown, its glass windows fogged slightly from the early spring chill. You had been here before—countless times, really—but never like this. Never with your skin on the line. Never with your heart threatening to beat out of your chest for reasons that had very little to do with ink or needles.

The soft chime above the door rang as you stepped in. Han was already inside, hunched over a sketchpad, his brows knitted in concentration. A pencil twirled between his fingers as he tapped it against his lower lip, eyes flicking to you the moment you walked in.

And just like that, the air shifted.

He smiled, slow and crooked. “You came. I’m impressed.”

“You told me to. I don’t exactly think that counts as bravery,” you replied, trying to play it cool, even though you were already peeling off your jacket, already catching the way his eyes flicked to your collarbone with something unreadable.

Han rose from his chair, brushing his fingers through his soft brown hair. “I sketched some ideas. Wanna see?”

You nodded, joining him by the desk where several sheets were spread out. The designs were delicate—subtle, intricate things, clearly drawn with you in mind. One of them caught your eye: a minimalist crescent moon nestled inside a trail of tiny stars, the lines fine and whisper-soft.

“I like this one,” you murmured, fingers brushing the paper.

“I thought you might.” His voice had dropped a bit. He was watching you closely, as if your reaction meant something more than approval. “It’s gentle. Quiet. But it lingers.”

You swallowed.

“I’ve decided where to put it,” he added after a beat, stepping closer.

“Oh?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Do I get a hint?”

Han smiled, tilting his head just slightly as his eyes traveled—unapologetically—over your exposed shoulder, down the dip of your neck. “Upper shoulder. Right where it curves into your neck. Here.” He reached out, fingers grazing the exact spot, the barest ghost of a touch. “It’s a place you never see, but everyone else does. Intimate. Subtle. Kind of like the moon.”

You froze. It was a good idea—too good, actually. Because now, your body was responding to more than just nerves. The closeness. The delicacy in his voice. The way his fingertips lingered, resting there a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“I trust you,” you whispered, hoping it would ground you.

Han met your gaze. For once, he looked serious. “Then lie down for me.”

The chair was cold at first, the studio quiet but for the low murmur of music and the faint clatter of his tools. You lay on your side, hair pulled up and shirt slightly off one shoulder, baring the space where he would work. The air kissed your skin, but it was Han’s presence—his warmth—that you felt most acutely.

He cleaned the area with methodical care, the scent of alcohol and antiseptic somehow comforting. But it was the way his hand curved around your shoulder, the way his thumb brushed the nape of your neck, that made you hyper aware of every inch of yourself.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Mhmm.”

“Tell me if it hurts too much.”

You chose not to tell him that it already did—but not because of the needle.

As the machine buzzed to life, the first kiss of ink stung. You flinched, just slightly, and felt his other hand firm on your back in response. Steadying. Anchoring.

He worked in slow, precise strokes, the pressure rhythmic, hypnotic. But each time his fingers brushed your skin, each time his breath tickled your shoulder from how close he leaned—it lit something warm and aching inside you.

His voice broke through the quiet after a while, low and slightly hoarse. “You’re really still. Most people twitch like hell when it’s here.”

You exhaled, barely moving. “I think I just… don’t want to mess you up.”

“You couldn’t,” he murmured. And for a second, the machine paused. His hand stayed, resting lightly over the fresh lines. “You’re kind of perfect like this.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare ask what he meant. But in the pause between one stroke and the next, the silence pulsed—thick with something fragile, something not quite spoken yet.

He resumed working, but something had changed. His touches had always been skilled, steady, but now there was a new kind of deliberateness in the way his fingers slid across your skin—slower, more lingering, more aware. The buzz of the machine became background noise to the static dancing along your spine.

Your breath came shallow and controlled, each exhale purposeful, but no amount of focus could erase the way heat pooled low in your belly each time he adjusted your position, each time he leaned in just close enough that his breath grazed the shell of your ear.

"You’re warm," he said suddenly, voice barely audible over the low thrum of music.

You tilted your head, cheek brushing the leather of the chair. “Is that your way of saying I’m sweating too much?”

A quiet laugh. "No." He wiped the spot gently, fingers spread wide against your upper back. “Just saying... your skin feels alive.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to shiver.

He paused to dip the needle again, but his other hand stayed pressed against you—thumb dragging absently along the edge of your spine. And then, as though the words slipped free without permission, he added, “It’s kind of driving me crazy.”

The machine stilled. Your eyes snapped open.

“What?”

Han blinked, as if he had not meant to say it aloud. But the corner of his mouth lifted anyway, a half-smile that was equal parts sheepish and satisfied. “Nothing. Just... hard to stay focused when you’re under my hands like this.”

Your pulse spiked. “You’re the one who insisted on choosing the placement.”

“Maybe I wanted an excuse to touch you like this. To drive you crazy”

The air between you crackled. He was close now—too close. His hand still rested against your skin, fingers slightly curled as if resisting the urge to grip tighter. You felt it in your bones: the shift from friendly banter to something heavier. Something hungry.

The tattoo needle remained idle, forgotten for the moment.

Your voice came soft, but steady. “Are you always this... handsy when you’re working?”

He leaned in slowly, slowly, until his mouth hovered just behind your ear. “Only when the canvas makes it impossible not to be.”

Your breath caught. You could feel the heat of him, the deliberate pause before he moved again—not toward his tools, but toward you. His hand slid from your shoulder, knuckles brushing the side of your throat in a line so featherlight it made your skin pebble.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You said you wanted to drive me crazy, too.”

“Is it working?” he murmured.

You closed your eyes, exhaling. “I think you already know the answer.”

Han chuckled under his breath, but there was a tightness in it—like restraint stretched thin. Still, he didn’t kiss you. Didn’t push further. Instead, he pressed a hand to your waist and guided you gently back into place, the spell not broken, only deferred.

“I should finish,” he said, almost hoarse.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Finish.”

But every second after that was charged. Every brush of his hand, every hum of the machine, every stolen glance when you dared to peek up at him—all of it thrummed with the knowledge that something had shifted. And neither of you could pretend it hadn’t.

You lost track of time. Moments bled into minutes, drawn out by the quiet rhythm of his work and the unspoken weight between you.

By the time he shut off the machine, your body felt like it had become a tuning fork—tight with tension, humming with everything unsaid.

“That’s it, you're done,” Han said quietly, voice thick.

He reached for a clean cloth, gently dabbing the inked area. The sting had dulled into a soft ache, but the way his hand moved over your skin—slow, deliberate, reverent—was what left you breathless.

He lingered there, thumb brushing just above the fresh lines. “You did good. Barely moved.”

You shifted onto your elbows slightly, twisting to catch his face. “Is that praise, or are you just surprised I didn’t faint?”

His gaze met yours. For a second, he said nothing. Then, a smile tugged at his lips—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re a lot tougher than you let on.”

You sat up, pulling the collar of your shirt gently over one shoulder. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Han stood there, still holding the cloth, still watching you with that unreadable expression. The tension between you was no longer subtle. It stretched between your bodies like a wire, thin and tight, vibrating with things neither of you had said out loud.

You looked away first.

“Let me pay you,” you said, reaching for your bag.

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “This wasn’t about that.”

Your fingers froze on the strap. You turned slowly. “Then what was it about?”

He hesitated, jaw tight. The weight in his gaze softened for a beat—something bare flickering through, like he wanted to say everything but chose instead to say:

“I wanted something of mine on you.”

The words landed in your chest like a drop of ink in water—sinking, blooming.

You didn’t respond right away. The silence folded around you again, but it was thick, pulsing, the air saturated with all the ways you almost touched.

Finally, you smiled, small but real. “Well... now you’ve got it.”

He laughed under his breath, but it was quieter this time. A little more careful. “Yeah. Guess I do.”

You moved toward the mirror, pulling your shirt slightly aside to see the finished piece that now lay protected by second skin. The crescent moon curved delicately against your skin, soft as a secret, sharp as a wish you hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

It was beautiful. It was everything you could have asked for.

You caught Han watching your reflection—eyes fixed not just on the ink, but the shape of you, the moment of you. Like he had never really allowed himself to look until now.

And still... he did nothing. And neither did you.

Just two bodies, standing too close, tied together by a single piece of ink and a silence that spoke louder than anything else.

You turned from the mirror, fingers brushing down the edge of your collar one last time. The skin was still tender beneath your touch, but not as tender as the weight in your chest.

“I should go,” you said, voice a little too light. A little too careful.

Han nodded once, but he did not move from where he stood. “Right. It’s late.”

You moved toward the door, bag slung over your shoulder, shoes forgotten under the bench. The silence followed you like smoke—slow and curling and hard to breathe through. You could feel his eyes on your back.

But just as your hand touched the knob, you paused.

“…I’m not usually like this.”

The words escaped before you could catch them.

Han’s voice came from behind you, lower now. “Like what?”

You didn’t turn to face him. “This affected.”

A beat.

Then: “Me neither.”

You turned then. Slowly. He was closer than he’d been a moment ago. Still not touching. Still not reaching.

But close.

The streetlights from outside filtered through the frosted windows, casting soft shadows over his face—his expression was unreadable again, but his eyes were not. They were dark and warm and searching. Like he wanted to speak with his hands instead of his mouth.

“I should walk you out,” he offered.

“I don’t need—”

“I know.” A pause. Then, his voice was gentler, “Let me anyway.”

You nodded.

He opened the door, and the cool air of the hallway hit your skin like a shock—like stepping out of a dream. The clack of your shoes echoed softly as you both walked, side by side, neither of you speaking.

You reached the door to the street. The city breathed on the other side. Stillness clung to the space between you like fog.

“Hey,” Han called, just as you stepped onto the threshold. His voice pulled you back. “Wait.”

You turned, heart stuttering.

He was standing close again. Too close. The kind of close that felt deliberate. His hand hovered near your waist, fingers flexing once, like he was debating whether to touch you again.

He didn’t.

Instead, his voice dropped. “If I kiss you right now… would that mess things up?”

Your breath hitched.

The world held its breath with you.

You let the silence stretch. Let the ache of it crawl up your spine. And then you said—quietly, honestly:

“I think not kissing me might mess things up more.”

And still—still—he did not kiss you. He only looked at you like he wanted to memorize the moment, the space between your mouths, the way you had just told him everything without saying it outright.

He smiled, slow and heavy with intent. “Then maybe I’ll wait until it really ruins me.”

Your throat went dry.

“Night,” he murmured, stepping back.

And just like that, the door closed between you.

But your heart stayed in his hands.

It was past midnight when your phone lit up.

"You still awake?"

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering, heart already answering before you could.

"i never really went to sleep"

Three dots appeared, then vanished. Then again.

"Me neither"

A beat of no incoming messages passed, then:

"I'm keeping myself up thinking about earlier''

Your breath caught.

"the tattoo?"

"Not exactly.."

You didn't respond right away. You didn’t have to. The air in your room had changed—thicker, tighter, like his voice might pour from the cracks in the wall's paint if you leaned in close enough.

And then the screen lit up again—this time, a call, to which you answered—not after panicking for a few seconds, of course.

“…Hey.” You whispered into the microphone.

His voice was low, rough from too many unsent words. “You looked good tonight.”

You swallowed the simmering embarrassment down. “You saw a lot of skin.”

“Not the part I meant.”

A silence stretched. Not awkward—intimate. It curled through the receiver like warm breath against your neck.

“Come by tomorrow,” he said finally. “I need to check your tattoo.”

“You just want to touch me again.”

“I'm not gonna sit here and lie to you by saying I didn't love every second of touching you. Come by tomorrow, please?”

Your skin flared at the bluntness. There was no smirk in his tone. No teasing this time. Just heat. Quiet and real.

You whispered, “Okay.”

The next day, you were back at his studio.

You told yourself it was just for aftercare, but the second you walked in, saw the way he looked up at you—eyes dark and steady—you knew you were both done pretending.

“Shirt,” he said softly, gesturing to the seat.

You sat. You peeled the fabric from your shoulder, the same stretch of skin that had sparked the night before and haunted his thoughts since. His hands were gloved, but his touch still felt like bare electricity.

He leaned in, inspecting the ink, but the space between you crackled. “Looks good,” he murmured. “You’ll heal fast.”

“So I can go?” you teased, voice thinner than usual.

He gave you no answer. Just peeled off the gloves, tossed them aside, and placed his bare hand against your back—palm flat, warm. Possessive.

“You came back,” he said. “That’s what I wanted.”

You turned your head, letting your cheek rest against your shoulder, watching him. “I did as I was told, Han. So what now?”

Han stepped around to face you. He reached up and touched your chin, tilting your face to his. The air between you shrank to nothing.

“Now I kiss you.”

And this time, he did.

His mouth was warm, unhurried, like he was tasting something he had waited weeks to touch. His fingers cradled your jaw, and you melted into it, into him, into the truth that had been aching beneath your skin for days.

He pulled back, just an inch.

“Still messing things up?” he asked, breath brushing your lips.

You smiled. “Only in the best way.”

The kiss tasted like every moment that came before it—charged, aching, sweet with restraint. His mouth moved against yours like a secret unraveling, like he had memorized the shape of your lips before ever daring to touch them.

You leaned into him, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer like instinct. Like gravity. Han followed the movement without hesitation, one hand sliding around your waist, the other brushing the side of your neck—soft, reverent, as if you might vanish if he held you too tightly.

When he pulled back, just enough to breathe, your foreheads touched. Your eyes stayed closed.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes. “Then show me.”

The words cracked something open between you. Quickly, he sat beside you on the tattoo bed and pulled you onto his lap.

He kissed you again—deeper now, his hands no longer tentative. One slid under your shirt, fingers warm against the small of your back, the other braced at your hip like he needed the anchor. You shifted in his lap, and before you realized you had even moved, he groaned low in his throat at the feel of you straddling him, bodies pressed with no space between.

Still, he slowed. Just for a breath.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough.

You nodded, nose brushing his. “More than.”

His lips returned to the bare side of your throat—soft at first, then with the scrape of teeth. Your hands threaded into his hair as you tilted your head for him, shivering when he dragged his mouth down the slope of your shoulder.

“Han,” you breathed.

He stilled for a moment, forehead pressed against your skin.

“I’ve wanted this,” he said. “But not just this.”

You stilled, heart thudding.

“I want every version of you,” he continued. “The fire, the softness, the silence. I want the way you look at me when I'm not looking. I want the way you talk like you are not afraid but touch like you’re terrified.”

You exhaled, chest caving. “You noticed everything?"

“I tried not to.”

He leaned back to meet your gaze. His hands moved with more intent now, but still gentle—still you-first. His thumbs traced the curve of your hips beneath your shirt, and you shivered under the slow build of it.

And then, still holding your waist, he laid you back against the padded bench—carefully, gracefully—like you were something rare. Like he had dreamed of this exact moment in the quiet between days.

Your shirt came off slowly, inch by inch. His hands explored like a map he was finally allowed to touch. Every kiss was a promise: I will not rush this. I will learn you inch by inch. I will memorize every sigh.

When his mouth found yours again, the kiss burned hotter—teeth clashing gently, breath shared. You tugged at his shirt, and he pulled it over his head in one clean motion, your hands already seeking skin, already desperate to feel.

Still, even in the heat, he slowed now and then—traced your ribs with a single finger, kissed the inside of your wrist. Whispers scattered between kisses.

“I want you,” he said. “But I also want you.”

You arched into him, fingertips splayed across his back, heart wide open. “You have me.”

The second his shirt hit the floor, your hands were on him—tracing the taut muscle beneath warm skin, nails catching just enough to make him hiss. His mouth was back on yours before you could take your next breath, more forceful now, more needy. Tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that made your spine arch and your legs tighten around his hips.

Han groaned when he felt it—your thighs drawing him in like a vice, like you already knew exactly how this would end.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your mouth. “You feel too good.”

“You haven’t even felt me yet,” you whispered back.

His eyes darkened.

He pulled you up in one fluid motion, strong hands gripping your thighs as he laid you down atop the workbench, your back pressed against cool wood, your skin burning beneath his palms.

He kissed down your throat, not slow anymore. Messy, greedy, open-mouthed kisses that left your pulse stuttering. He bit lightly at the curve where your shoulder met your neck, and you gasped—head tipping back, legs spreading instinctively, begging for more contact, more friction, more.

His hands slipped beneath the band of your pants, thumbs dragging over the sensitive skin at your hips.

“These need to come off,” he growled, voice thick with want. “Right fucking now.”

You lifted your hips to help, letting him tug them down along with your underwear in one swift motion. The heat in his gaze when he looked at you—all of you—bare on his table, flushed and panting, legs spread for him like it was the most natural thing in the world—

It made your stomach flip, made your core throb.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, like he was angry about it. “So fucking pretty and wet already, and I haven’t even touched you properly.”

“Then do it,” you whispered. “Touch me.”

And he did.

One hand pressed your thigh open, the other sliding between your legs, fingers stroking through your slick folds in a rhythm that was maddeningly light. He teased your clit with the pad of his thumb, watching the way your hips jerked, your mouth parted around soft gasps.

“You gonna let me make you come with just my fingers first?” he murmured, leaning close, breath hot against your ear. “Wanna feel you grip them before I fuck you. Want you so messy I can’t think straight.”

You whimpered, back arching. “Yes—please, Han—”

He slid one finger in, slow, letting you feel the stretch. Then two. Then a curl of his knuckles that had you crying out, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the edge of the table.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Grind on my fingers. Let me see how desperate you are.”

You did—hips rocking, thighs trembling, your core clenching around him as he worked you open with deliberate pressure, circling your clit with his thumb until the pressure built fast and dizzying.

“I can feel you getting close,” he said against your throat. “You gonna come for me, baby? Right here on the table where I ink people’s skin?”

“Fuck—Han—yes—”

You shattered with a cry, legs shaking, body arching against his mouth as he kissed you through it—murmuring things you could barely process, words lost in the white-hot rush.

And when you finally came down, breath heaving, he leaned back and licked his fingers clean with a satisfied smirk.

“Think you’re ready for my cock now?”

You nodded, dazed. “Please.”

He undid his belt with one hand, gaze locked to yours as he stroked himself—slow, thick, already slick from the sight of you. Then he lined up, ran the head through your folds once, twice, teasing your oversensitive clit just to watch you twitch—

And then he pushed in.

You both groaned—deep, guttural—like relief and hunger all at once. He filled you in one slow, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

You were soaked. Sore. Already wrecked.

But he did not stop.

He fucked you—hard, deep, each thrust lifting your hips from the table, your hands clawing at his back, your moans turning to whimpers, then cries. His name over and over.

Your moans spilled out in sobs as your second climax hit you like a dam bursting. It was hot—blinding—your release painting his cock in pulsing waves, your entire body locking up beneath him. All the hunger, the want, the times of aching tension you had swallowed back whenever he so much as looked at you with those dark, unreadable eyes—it all came out in that moment. You clenched tight around him, and he groaned loud and low, his head dropping to your shoulder.

“God—look at you,” he rasped, voice wrecked, pride and awe tangled in every word. “So good for me. So perfect when you come.”

But then, his hips stopped to a jarring halt. He was still buried inside you, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged. You could feel the tension in his body—every muscle taut, his hips stuttering in that way that told you he was right on the edge, right there—

But holding back. Just for you.

You cupped his jaw, breathless but steadying. “You didn’t come.”

He shook his head, eyes fluttering. “Wanted to feel you first. Wanted to see—fuck—how tight you get when you come around me.”

Your body gave a little twitch at the memory, still oversensitive, still full. But a flicker of something else lit behind your eyes.

You kissed him—slow and deep—and then, with a sly smile, clenched around him deliberately.

He choked on a moan, arms trembling where they braced beside your head.

“Baby—don’t—”

“You always so in control?” you whispered, brushing your lips along his jaw, down his throat. “Or are you just that good at hiding when you want to break?”

He groaned, head falling to your shoulder. “Please—fuck—”

You rolled your hips beneath him, just a little. Just enough.

“You’re still so hard,” you murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “Still deep inside me like you need to be. You want to come? Want to fill me up?”

“God—yes.”

“Then allow me.”

You pushed him gently, and he let you—collapsing back into the chair beside the bench, cock glistening and flushed as it slipped free, twitching with the aftershocks of restraint. He barely had time to breathe before you dropped to your knees between his legs and wrapped your hand around him—tight, slow strokes from base to tip that had him gasping and clenching the arms of the chair.

“You look so pretty like this,” you murmured, kissing the head of his cock, licking the slit just to taste the salt of him.

His hips bucked and he cursed—head thrown back, abs tensing.

“Sensitive already, aren’t you?” you purred.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

You took him into your mouth before he could finish the sentence—deep and warm, tongue swirling as you bobbed your head, one hand cupping his balls, the other pressing down gently on his hip to keep him from thrusting.

He was loud now, whimpering, begging, gasping your name like prayer.

And when he came—god—

It was with a broken moan, back arching, thighs shaking under your palms. You swallowed everything, licked your lips, and looked up at him through your lashes as he tried to remember how to breathe.

His eyes were glassy, hair clinging to his forehead, chest rising in jagged waves.

You smiled. “Still in control?”

He laughed—wrecked, breathless. “Fuck no.”

You climbed into his lap again, your bare skin still warm, flushed and tingling, and curled against him with a quiet little hum.

He wrapped his arms around you like instinct. And then, softly:

“…Round two’s gonna ruin us both.”

You grinned against his neck. “Good.”

The studio held comfortable silence for a moment.

Only your breathing filled the space—shallow and warm, mingling with his where you straddled him on the tattoo bed again, skin flushed and shining in the low amber glow of the work light. The air smelled like sweat and sex, care, and ink—hot, heavy, and honest.

Han was still beneath you, arms slack, mouth parted. His chest heaved, his cock softening between your thighs.

You dragged your fingers along the lines of his jaw, smug and satisfied. “Speechless?”

He blinked once. Then again. Something shifted in his eyes.

“No,” he rasped. “Just… trying not to fuck you so hard this bed breaks.”

You laughed softly—until his hands shot to your hips and slammed you down onto his thigh.

You gasped, the sudden friction making your oversensitive body jolt.

“I let you ruin me once,” he growled, voice low and wrecked. “Your turn now.”

You barely had time to react before he stood, arms beneath your thighs, lifting you like nothing. Your back hit the nearest wall—your bare skin flush to cool concrete, legs wrapped around his waist, his cock already hardening between you again.

“What—Han—”

“You think you can just look at me like that,” he snarled against your neck, grinding up between your soaked folds. “Touch me like you own me. And then walk out of here? Nah.”

You shivered. His cock pressed right against your entrance.

“Han—”

“Look at me.”

You did.

He didn't give you a warning. Just a brutal promise, growled against your skin; “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name—but still remember mine when your hands are between your legs for weeks after.”

Then he was inside you again—deep—in one smooth, merciless thrust, hips snapping forward so hard your back hit the wall with a dull thud.

You gasped—high and breathless—arms clinging to his shoulders, nails biting into skin.

“Han—fuck—”

He caught your cry in a kiss that was anything but sweet. All tongue, teeth, and desperation, lips crushed to yours like he needed your breath to survive.

Your walls fluttered around him already—sensitive from the first round, still dripping wet and raw, but ready despite the ache. He filled you so completely, so perfectly, it stole the air from your lungs.

“I felt this pussy clench around my fingers,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to slam into you again. “But it’s nothing—nothing—compared to how you grip my cock. So fucking tight. So wet.”

You moaned—helpless—every part of your body trembling as he started to move.

Hard. Fast. Focused.

Your back scraped against the wall with every thrust, the studio echoing with the filthy slap of skin on skin, the sound of your choked gasps and his rough groans.

“You want control?” he hissed, fingers digging into the underside of your thighs, forcing them open wider. “Then take it.”

He pulled out.

You nearly cried from the loss.

Then he moved you back to the table, your knees hitting the workbench edge as he turned you, bent you forward, pressed your chest flat to the table.

You barely had time to breathe before he plunged back inside from behind, the new angle making you cry out, high and broken.

“Louder!” he commanded. “Let the whole damn building know how good I fuck you.”

And louder you were when he found that spot inside you—over and over again, the pace brutal and relentless.

He gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet every thrust, the obscene sound of your slick arousal growing louder with every stroke. Your legs started to buckle—nerves frayed, every inch of your skin alight.

“F-fuck—Han—I can’t—too much—”

“You can. You’re taking it like a fucking dream,” he rasped, reaching down, rubbing your clit in tight, wet circles that made your vision blur.

Your whole body tightened—shaking, clenching, desperate to come again, and again—

He leaned over you, lips to your ear, voice hoarse:

“Come on my cock again, baby. Milk it. Let me feel that pretty pussy worship me.”

And you did.

You shattered—body convulsing, mouth open in a silent scream as you came hard, squeezing him so tight he cursed and slammed into you with one final, brutal thrust.

He came with a shout—loud, raw, high—hips jerking as he spilled inside you, his hands fisting in your hair, his teeth grazing your shoulder.

You stayed like that for a moment.

Ruined. One tangled, sweaty, aching mess.

Then his hands softened—smoothed up your back, traced the curves of your hips like reverence.

He pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“…Still remember your name?”

You laughed, wrecked and breathless.

“Remind me?" you whispered.

You did not remember collapsing—just that one moment he was still inside you, and the next, you were draped across the tattoo bed like laundry left out to dry. Your skin tingled, nerves alight, thighs sticky and trembling, your mind still floating somewhere just above your body.

And Han?

Han was slumped in the chair again, legs spread, one arm thrown dramatically over his face.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered into the crook of his elbow. “I think I blacked out. You short-circuited me.”

You snorted, face still pressed to the cool surface of the bench. “You short-circuited me. I’m literally leaking.”

He scooted the chair to get a full view of what you were talking about, eyes glassy but mischievous. “Good. I want it dripping down your thighs next time you show up in those little skirts you wear.”

You blinked. “Next time?”

Han grinned, wicked and lazy. “Oh, baby. This is so not a one-time thing. I’m gonna put a stamp on you like a repeat customer loyalty card.”

You rolled onto your side, raising a brow. “You’re gonna fuck me five times and give me a discount on a flash piece?”

He laughed—loudly. Like you caught him off guard. “God, you’re a menace.”

“You’re the menace. Who says that shit mid-stroke?” you shot back, mimicking his earlier line with mock dramatics: “‘Forget your own name but still remember mine?’ Who writes you?”

He leaned forward, dragging his fingers up your bare spine. “No one writes me. I just improvise.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So… you freestyled your way into making me cum thrice and see stars?”

He winked. “What can I say? I’ve got bars and stamina.”

You smacked him with a rolled-up paper towel, but he caught your wrist and pulled you into his lap, arms curling around your waist like he never wanted to let you go.

Then—softer, like he almost did not mean to say it aloud:

“…I really like you.”

You stilled, looked over to him and kissed him gently, pouring every single ounce of reciprocation your being had to offer him. Because maybe he was a cocky, ridiculous, and insatiable man—but he was your cocky, ridiculous, and insatiable man.

Even when he was a little bit of a menace.

The silence after pulling away was heavy—not the uncomfortable kind, more like an exhale. A shared, serene stillness, your heartbeat slowing while his lips ghosted along your jaw, your collarbone, the tender edge of your throat.

He had not moved far.

Still close. Still inside your gravity.

Then Han shifted, propping his head on one elbow which rested on the arm of the chair, eyes sweeping your face like he was memorizing something. His fingers moved before his mouth did—brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb dragging down your cheek.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him, still dazed. “Hey.”

He hesitated—not out of uncertainty, but because this, somehow, felt bigger than everything you both had already done.

“You don’t have to go home tonight.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

His voice stayed soft, careful, “I mean… you could stay. With me.”

You stared.

He rushed to fill the silence, eyes darting between yours.

“Not just for more of this—though God, don’t get me wrong, I want more of this—but like. We could crash at my place. Order food. You could steal my hoodie. Wake up and make terrible coffee together. You could see what I’m like in the morning. Spoiler: not sexy. Kind of grumpy. But you’re good with chaos, right?”

You laughed—but something in your chest ached, cracked just a little.

Because he meant it—this wasn’t just about lust anymore. Not even about proximity or chemistry.

It was a choice.

He was asking you to stay, to see him past the high, into the quiet.

You leaned up, kissed him once—slow and certain.

“I’ll stay,” you whispered.

And the way he looked at you then—hopeful and smug and so unmistakably fond—made you feel warmer than anything else that night.

Sunlight crept in like it was in on a secret, painting lazy gold across your bare shoulder.

You stirred, slowly, blinking awake to the smell of coffee and something warm—eggs?—cooking in the kitchen nook. Your body ached, in all the right places. Inner thighs sore. Lips swollen. A fingerprint or five pressed like stamps into your hips. You stretched, wincing slightly, and smiled.

And Han—God, Han—was nowhere in the bed, but his hoodie had been draped over your legs like a blanket, his scent wrapped around you like a sigh.

You slipped it on, oversized and soft, sleeves swallowing your hands, and padded barefoot across the polished concrete toward the sound of gentle humming and the clatter of a pan.

Han stood with his back to you—shirtless, hair wild and sticking up in twenty-seven different directions, tattoos flexing as he flipped something in a pan. There were two mugs of coffee already out. One black. The other just the way you liked it.

You leaned on the doorway, biting your smile.

He sensed you, because of course he did.

“You’re up,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder. And then, softer, like he couldn’t help himself: “Fuck, you look good in my hoodie.”

You padded up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your face on his nape.

“You’re feeding me. You really trying to make me fall in love with you?”

He chuckled, flipping the egg once again with a practiced hand. “That was the plan, yeah. Ruin your body, then win your heart with food.”

You laughed against his skin. “Tactical.”

He turned the stove off and turned in your arms, resting his hands low on your hips, looking down at you with sleepy warmth in his eyes. You felt it then—not just the physical closeness, but the easiness of it. The comfort. The pull.

“You staying the whole day?” he asked, voice quiet now, vulnerable in that way he rarely let show.

You nodded, brushing your lips over his collarbone.

“Only if you kiss me like that again,” you teased.

He grinned.

And did just that—slow, sweet, a kiss with no agenda other than to keep you there.

Later, with your stomach full, your limbs loose and drowsy from the best kind of indulgence, you found yourself curled up on the couch—Han’s head in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the messy strands of his hair.

Some terrible movie was playing on his television. Neither of you was really watching it. The remote lay forgotten on the floor. His fingers traced idle patterns on the bare skin beneath your borrowed hoodie, the both of you half-clothed, half-tangled, fully comfortable.

“This is dangerous,” you murmured.

Han cracked one eye open. “What is?”

“This. Us. You looking at me like I hung the stars and made your coffee.”

He smirked without moving. “You did, though. Kind of. That coffee was perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed anyway.

His expression softened, gaze dropping to where his hand rested just beneath your ribs. “You should let me tattoo you again,” he said after a long beat.

You looked down at him. “Now?”

“No,” he smiled, “not now. But someday. Something small. Just for me. Somewhere only I get to see.”

Your stomach flipped at the idea. You tried to play it off. “That’s a lot of trust, letting you draw on me permanently.”

His fingers slid a little lower, dangerously close to a place that still pulsed with the memory of last night.

“You already let me ruin you once,” he said with a grin. “What’s a little ink?”

You snorted, swatting at him half-heartedly. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you’re still here,” he countered easily, nuzzling into your thigh like he belonged there. Like he always had.

You sighed contently as you carded your fingers through his hair again.

“Yeah,” you whispered, half to him, half to yourself.

“And I'm here to stay.”

drops this in your hands and runs off into the sunset

taglist (ask to be added here): @petersasteria @gdinthehouseee @aizshallnotbefound @burlesquerade @floofeh-purpi @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @sherrayyyyy @ricecake9999 @leni111 @scream-queen-25 @spiritualgirly444 @fairyprincesslvr21 @loonybunny1 @uuchii @sherxoo @m-325

#emmiesoverthemoon #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung skz x reader #han jisung skz #han jisung stray kids #han jisung stray kids smut #han stray kids #han skz #han skz x reader #han skz smut

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holylulusworld · 2 days ago

Text

Stumblerella (2)

Summary: You’re clumsy. Luckily, a hero moved in right next to you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: clumsy reader, fluff, retired Steve

Catch up here: Stumblerella

Today, Steve follows you around the grocery store. You wanted to go to town to buy groceries after your last trip ended up in ashes. Literally. Once again, your shopping bags caught fire.

Yesterday, your car tried to kill you again, and we don’t want to talk about the sink spewing food at you. Your shower gave you only pink water, and your lights flicker all the damn time.

Steve is sure there must be someone out there manipulating your life to mess with you. No one can be so unlucky.

Ever the hero, Steve decided not to leave your side before he found the villain making your life harder. He doesn’t understand why anyone would want to harm you. You’re a ray of sunshine, friendly and kind.

“Did you listen, Steve?” You ask as he is engrossed in surveying the grocery store. Steve whips his head toward you, nodding slowly. “We need pasta and broccoli. Oh, and you wanted some apples.”

You check the list again, crossing out another article. “How about I invite you over for dinner? Your oven could explode or something.”

You giggle as Steve is worried about you again. Since he got to know that strange things happen around you all the time, he tries to keep you safe. Mostly by sticking around.

“I’ll get the rest of the list; just follow me around.” Steve takes the list out of your hand. He already manned the shopping cart, but you don’t protest. Steve was nothing but helpful over the last few weeks, and you don’t want him to think you’re ungrateful.

“Do you want me to cook for you? I could make a pie too,” you ask while following Steve toward the next shelf. “Maybe this time the oven won’t try to kill me.”

Steve chuckles, but worry colors his features. “You can come over to my place, and we can cook together. I’m not much of a cook, but we can try together.”

“You are worried my oven will eat me, right?” You playfully punch his upper arm. “I’m hoping the bastard won’t try anything tonight.

“Let’s hope for the best…”

Steve drove you home and invited you over for dinner a second time. You agreed and wanted to change clothes. He happily told you he’s going to prepare everything when you step inside your house.

Only seconds later, he heard a loud thump, followed by a scream. His instinct kicks in. Muscle memory helps him break through your door and run upstairs, only to find you helplessly lying under your wardrobe.

“Y/N! Doll! What happened?” He easily lifts the wardrobe, immediately checking on you. “Do not move. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“Steve,” you sigh because he came to your rescue once again. “I’m good, thank you. I only wanted to get a shirt and shorts, but then the wardrobe tried to eat me.”

Steve snorts at your words. “That’s it. I’ll bring you to my place. We will pack a few of your things, and you can have my guestroom. I want to inspect your house, car, and your surroundings. This is not normal.”

“I know.” You sniffle as Steve helps you get up. Luckily, a few bruises and a broken ego are the only damage the wardrobe did. “It all started a few months ago.”

“Y/N, when exactly did it start?” Steve looks at the wardrobe, frowning, as if nothing seems to be wrong with it. It’s sturdy. There’s no logical explanation for what happened.

“Uh—” You close your eyes and try to remember when the first accident happened. “I think shortly after you moved in.”

“I see…” Steve nods thoughtfully. “Let’s bring you out of here for now.”

“Tony, I need your help.” Steve is pacing his living room. You didn’t cook. Steve ordered takeout and tucked you in after dinner.

You easily fell asleep, knowing Steve is there to protect you. “Someone is terrorizing my neighbor. I’m afraid they are doing this because of me.”

He tells Tony your name and address, asking for help. Steve won’t let anyone hurt you. Not on his watch.

Whoever is messing with your life will regret it…

#Stumblerella (2)#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #x reader #retired Steve

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iluvsieunsveinydihh · 12 hours ago

Note

I need you to make Na Baekjin x reader as Humin's little sister. Reader and Baekjin have known each other since childhood because of his friendship with reader's older brother. Everything changed when they got older, and it was Humin who told the reader to stay away from Baekjin. Baekjin becomes a very rude and quite psychopathic person. But, on the other hand, while he keeps trying to 'paralyze' Humin into submitting to him, he will never harm the reader. He even told his alliance members "Don't even touch my girl, or you will be the ones to die." He hated Yeon Si-Eun when he found out that the reader had a huge crush on his enemy. If there is a fight with Humin and the reader is there, the alliance members will try their best not to harm reader, because if they did that, their heads could be broken by Baekjin.

Until one day, there was a new alliance member who was not yet familiar with the rules that Baekjin had implemented. They attacked Humin, but also harmed reader until she were in critical condition, and that worsened Baekjin and Humin's relationship. Baekjin 'gets rid' of people who harm readers, even going so far as to blow up his office if necessary.

Without Humin's knowledge, he visited the reader at the hospital. Seeing the reader in critical condition. "My sweet Y/N..." He loves readers but is very toxic and scary 😔

“You’re the Only One I Won’t Hurt”

Na Baekjin x Park!Reader(Humin’s Little Sister)

warnings: Toxic Relationship,Violence Threats of Violence,Hospitalization, Critical Injury,Controlling Behavior,Psychological,Implied Emotional Dark Romance,Sibling Conflict

You’d known Na Baekjin since you were both kids—before he became who he is now. Back when he used to come to your house after school, sit at the dinner table, and laugh alongside your older brother, Humin. Back when his hands weren’t always bloodied, and his eyes didn’t burn with something cruel.

You used to think he was fascinating.

But everything changed when you all got older—when Baekjin started changing. He grew colder, quieter, more violent. Power suited him too well, and he wanted more of it. Humin saw it first. Maybe he always knew. That’s why, one night, he pulled you aside with a seriousness you’d never seen before.

“Stay away from Baekjin,” he’d said. “He’s not the kid you used to know.”

But it was already too late for that. You couldn’t stay away. And Baekjin didn’t want you to.

You weren’t like the others—he never let his temper reach you. While he made it his mission to bend Humin into submission, he never raised a finger to you. Never let anyone else do it either.

“Don’t even touch my girl,” he told his alliance coldly once. “If you do, I’ll make sure you beg me to die.”

They believed him. Everyone did.

But he hated Yeon Si-eun. The day he found out you had a crush on him, something inside Baekjin snapped. You remember the way he cornered you after school, voice low and dangerous.

“Him? You like him?” He laughed—sharp and humorless. “Do you think he’d bleed for you like I would?”

Still, no matter how tense things became between Baekjin and your brother, the alliance members never laid a hand on you. Until one day… one of the new recruits didn’t know the unspoken rule.

A fight broke out.

It was chaotic—your brother throwing punches, the new guy grabbing whatever he could to use as a weapon. And you—caught in the middle. Someone shoved you hard—too hard. The world spun and then everything went black.

When Baekjin heard what happened, the storm came.

He didn’t care about appearances or control anymore. That night, he destroyed his own office—tossing chairs, smashing windows. No one dared go near him. Not after the things he did to the one who hurt you.

They weren’t breathing when he was done.

He showed up at the hospital hours later—alone, his hoodie up, head down. No one knew he was there. Not even Humin.

He stood by your bed, staring down at your pale, unconscious face. You looked so small—so breakable.

“…My sweet Y/N,” he murmured, brushing your hair back gently with fingers that had broken bones just hours before. “They’ll pay for this. All of them.”

His voice was soft, but there was nothing gentle about the rage burning behind his eyes.

“They think I’m the villain,” he whispered. “But you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to protect.”

He bent down, pressing a cold kiss to your forehead.

“Wake up soon. I’ll kill them all if you don’t.”

_____________________________

The world came back slowly—like rising out of deep, cold water.

The hospital lights stung your eyes as they flickered above. Your body ached, every nerve raw and screaming. But the worst part was your chest—the heavy, suffocating weight pressing down on your ribs. You could barely move. Your hand twitched weakly on the blanket.

And then—

“Y/N?”

Your brother’s voice cracked like it hadn’t been used in hours.

You turned your head slowly. Humin was sitting beside your bed, eyes red, clothes wrinkled like he hadn’t slept. His face crumpled with relief the moment your eyes met.

“God, you’re awake,” he breathed, reaching out to take your hand, holding it so carefully like it might shatter.

“What… happened?” Your throat burned.

“There was a fight.” His jaw clenched. “One of Baekjin’s guys. He didn’t know the rules. He—” Humin paused, looking like he wanted to punch a wall. “He hurt you.”

You blinked slowly. “Baekjin…”

“He wasn’t there when it happened,” Humin said quickly. “But he found out. Lost his damn mind. I don’t know what he did to the guy, and I don’t want to know.”

You swallowed, throat dry. A memory tugged at you—faint but real. A whisper in the dark. Cold fingers brushing your forehead. “My sweet Y/N.”

“…Was Baekjin here?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Humin’s eyes darkened. “Why are you even asking that?”

You didn’t answer. But your brother saw it—the way your eyes flicked away. The way your fingers tightened just slightly in his.

“Y/N, I told you to stay away from him for a reason. He’s not safe.”

You almost believed that. Almost.

But something didn’t feel right. Like someone had been there—someone who knew how to touch you gently, despite having blood on their hands.

Later that night, long after your brother fell asleep in the chair beside you, you turned your head toward the window. The curtains were cracked open just enough.

And in the alley across the street—bathed in the glow of a flickering streetlight—you saw him.

Na Baekjin.

Standing perfectly still. Hands in his pockets. Hoodie up.

Watching.

You didn’t know how long he’d been there. Or how long he would stay.

But one thing was clear:

He never left you.

And he never would.

_____________________________

You were discharged from the hospital three days later—still bruised, still sore, still haunted by everything that had happened.

Humin kept you close, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he looked away for too long. He drove you home, walked you to your room, even checked the locks twice before letting you sleep.

He didn’t know Baekjin had already seen you. Had already stood by your bed and whispered your name like a prayer.

You didn’t tell him. You couldn’t.

But you felt him.

Watching.

Waiting.

It was a little past midnight when you stepped outside—just for air. The night was quiet, cold, and still. You leaned against the porch railing, wrapped in your hoodie. Your eyes drifted toward the alley across the street.

And there he was.

Na Baekjin. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, like he’d been there the whole time. Like he knew you would come.

You didn’t say a word. Neither did he.

Until you did.

“…Why are you here?”

His mouth twitched into something close to a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He pushed off the wall and walked toward you slowly, steps deliberate.

“I never left.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He looked the same—black hoodie, cold eyes, messy hair—but there was something unhinged behind the calm. Something dangerous.

You stood your ground anyway.

“You shouldn’t be here. Humin—”

“Humin can go to hell.”

Your eyes widened slightly.

“I told you before,” he said, voice low and sharp like a blade. “You’re mine. And I don’t care if you’re his sister. I don’t care if he hates me. I don’t care if he tries to keep you from me.”

You swallowed hard. “You hurt people.”

“I didn’t hurt you,” he snapped, stepping closer. “I never hurt you. Even when I should’ve walked away, I didn’t. Even when you looked at Si-eun like he was something worth falling for.”

You flinched. His voice cracked on Si-eun’s name.

Baekjin reached up—gently, surprisingly—and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered at your jaw. His touch was soft. Too soft for someone who could break bones with his bare hands.

“I would’ve killed them for you,” he whispered. “I did.”

“…I know.”

He leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours. His breath was warm against your lips.

“I’ll give you a choice, Y/N. Right here. Right now. You can go back inside, pretend I never came. Let Humin lock you away and tell you who you can love.”

“…Or?”

“Or you come with me. And you finally stop pretending that you don’t want this.”

Silence settled between you.

The lights in your house flickered behind you.

Baekjin’s eyes burned in the dark.

#weak hero class 2 smut #weak hero x reader #weak hero x reader #weak hero class 1 smut #weak hero class 1 x reader #weak hero smut #na baekjin #na baekjin x reader #baekjin #whc2 x reader #whc1 x reader #whc2 #whc1

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winteringdream · 2 days ago

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JEALOUSY ! ──── lee riwoo

✩ ⋅ pairing. lee riwoo x gn!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, angst if u squint, university au ✩ ⋅ warnings. alcohol intake ✩ ⋅ wc. 1338

You met Riwoo completely by mistake.

It happened at the university gym, just outside the changing rooms. You stuck your key into the lock, opened the small door, and immediately froze. Your school bag, the one with the cute charms dangling off the zipper, the tiny plushie your friend got you was gone.

Your stomach dropped. These definitely weren’t your clothes.

You were about to march straight to the front desk when someone behind you cleared their throat. “Uh… I think you’ve got the wrong locker.”

You turned around, and there he was. A towel slung over his shoulder, hair damp from a shower, and an awkward smile. He held up an identical key and gestured to the locker you had just opened. “I think that’s mine.”

Turns out, the gym had bought a bunch of cheap locks from the same factory and the same keys could open many other locks. His bag was right where it was supposed to be and so was yours, one row down.

“Nice charms, though,” he said with a smile as you swapped lockers. “Very you.”

You’d never seen him before. But after that, he seemed to be at the gym every time you were there.

At first, the two of you only smiled at each other when you saw him. But your friendship slowly developed into casual conversation every now and then.

“I swear I’ve never seen you at the café before,” you laugh, squinting at him to see if he’s joking. “Are you sure you work there?”

Riwoo chuckles, leaning back against the bench. “I really do. Been working there since December, I swear.”

“Seriously? I go there, like, every week.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Guess I’m just unmemorable, huh?”

You scratch the back of your neck, suddenly a little sheepish. “Or I’m just really bad at paying attention.”

“Well,” he says, “how about this. I’ll gift you a free drink of your choice, if you come with me to Sungho’s party.”

“Wait, now I’m getting a little suspicious. Who is Sungho and why do I have to tag along with you?”

Riwoo lets out a laugh. “Relax. Sungho’s just a friend. He’s throwing this party, and I might’ve told him I was bringing someone cool so I wouldn’t have to stand around awkwardly sipping soda all night.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And I’m the cool person in this scenario?”

“Maybe.”

You try not to smile, but fail. “Okay, deal. How good are you at making a latte?”

He shrugs, but there’s also a small smile on his face. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

And now you’re here. Standing in the midst of a crowded party with Riwoo beside you. He looks completely out of place, fumbling with the plastic cup in his hands.

Then, suddenly, a small group of girls approaches. You recognize them, they'd been watching him for a while now, whispering, laughing too loudly. Of course they’re interested. How could anyone not be interested in Riwoo?

You hate to admit it, but in the short time that you had known him, you had grown to like him a lot. He is handsome, witty and a gentleman without even knowing it. The kind of person who holds the door without thinking, who listens and remembers everything you say.

“What’s your name?” One of the girls asks, the smile on her face sweet and flirty.

Riwoo is slightly caught off guard, but it doesn’t show on his face. Only you can see how he’s caught off guard.

“Riwoo,” he says simply, his voice barely louder than the music in the room.

The girls giggle, one of them brushing her hair behind her ear a little too slowly. You watch them talk, not wanting to leave his side. You tell yourself it’s nothing. He’s not yours. He’s just your friend.

But still, you’re jealous.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” another girl asks, her eyes practically glittering under the colored lights.

“Is it that obvious?” Riwoo chuckles.

They laugh again, and it rings in your ears even after they’ve stopped laughing. You're still smiling, but your fingers tighten slightly around your own drink. You look away, trying to find some distraction to your jealousy.

You turn away and walk towards the crowd, pretending to open your phone and text someone when in reality you’re just looking at the weather app. It’s easier than standing there, pretending not to feel the ache in your chest.

You don’t stop walking until the flirting and small talk fade away.

The kitchen is quieter and also the only place that is lit by a lamp. Someone’s standing in the corner, but you ignore it. You take a deep breath in.

It's stupid. You barely know him, but that doesn't stop the feeling of jealousy.

You pour yourself a glass of some random bottle that’s in front of you and take a sip of it. It burns a little, sharper than you expected. Maybe if you get drunk enough you’ll forget all about the fact that you’re at a party of a stranger. And that Riwoo is flirting with some random girls.

By the time you’ve emptied your second glass everything is hazy and spinning.

Your head tips back against the cabinet with a gentle thud. The ceiling spins slightly and you look at it to try and ground yourself.

You giggle at how ridiculous you are. Hiding in the kitchen like a sore loser, your only friend here flirting with a group of girls. You wonder if he even noticed you left.

Maybe you should go back out there and have fun. Forget all about the stupid situation you’re in and drink all your thoughts away. Instead you sink slowly to the floor, the glass still in your hand, your head resting back against the cabinets.

“Hey.”

Riwoo is standing in the doorway. He looks so out of place under the dim yellow kitchen, hair slightly messy, one hand still carrying that plastic cup, now almost empty.

He steps inside slowly, and stops until he’s just in front of you. You don’t look up to meet his eyes, instead you’re just staring at his knees.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Do I look okay?” You mumble with a crooked smile, eyes glassy.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sets his cup down on the counter and crouches in front of you, elbows resting on his knees as he tries to meet your gaze.

“You disappeared,” he says.

“Why’d you come find me?” you ask, as you finally look him in the eye. He smiles, although his face still clearly shows his concern.

“Because I didn’t want to be out there if you weren’t.”

He reaches out slowly and carefully brushing your hair back. He doesn’t pull away after tucking the hair behind your ear, instead he uses the moment to take a good look at you.

His eyes search your face, tracing every part of it.

“You’re drunk,” he says, causing you to stifle a laugh.

You nod slowly. “You’re only realising now?”

You hold his gaze, your heartbeat suddenly loud in your chest. His hand drops down, but only so he can sit beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he slides down against the cabinet.

“I didn’t like watching those girls talk to you,” you admit, the words falling out before you can stop them. You’re staring straight ahead now, afraid to meet his gaze after admitting your jealousy. What will he think of you now that you told him?

Riwoo turns his head slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Why not?”

“Because I think I like you,” you say, voice barely audible. The words once again tumbling out of your mouth before you can think of the consequences. You shouldn’t have drank that much alcohol.

“Good.”

You turn to look at him, startled. He’s already watching you, his expression different, like he’s genuinely happy. It startles you more than anything else tonight.

“Because I think I like you too.”

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count-on-mi · 1 day ago

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Twice Interactive Story Part 27 Family Trip (Dahyun, Chaeyoung, Tzuyu)

You walk like a zombie, you still can't accept the fact Mina has just said.

You say nothing and get on the car, ready to start the vacation. Chaeyoung is sitting next to you, while Dahyun sits at the back.

'Problem solved, Oppa?' Chaeyoung asks. 'You are not looking good.'

“Problem not solved, but I’ll deal with it. Let’s just go shopping, get you something new.” I say as I start the car and begin driving.

'Thank you, Oppa!' Dahyun kisses your cheek as she is happy to get some new clothes. 'You want me to wear that kind of dress, right?'

Chaeyoung smirks, 'New clothing is good, but aren't you want to see us naked on your bed more, huh?'

'You can see it tonight, right Dahyun eooni?' Chaeyoung teases you.

'What are you talking about...' Dahyun blushes and playfully slap Chaeyoung's shoulder.

As we arrive I’ll follow Dahyun and Chaeyoung around until I find something interesting for Mina

Chaeyoung knows you are struggling so she doesn't bother you, instead she goes to see some vintage that she likes, of course with your credit card.

Dahyun still doesn't know what happened, but she can feel you are down. 'Are you ok, Oppa?' Dahyun holds your hand while walking in the mall, 'You should focus on us if we are going out, right? Let's handle the problem later, together. Dubu will try my best to help!'

“Sorry Dubu, it’s just that clothes shopping isn’t exactly the most fun thing for me to do. Especially if Chaeyoung is the one using my card.” I joke.

'Then you should not give her the card.' Dahyun says. 'What do you want to buy? Let's go to see it together.'

You think what you should buy for Mina, and after thinking for a while, you realize that you don't even know what she likes, you have known her for quite a long time, but you still have no idea.

'Maybe Sana will know?' You talk to yourself, when you wanna ask her, you remember she mad about you last night, you may need to cheer her up too.

Damn, woman is just so annoying, you are frustrated again.

“I don’t really know,” I respond to Dahyun. “Let’s just look around until we find something interesting.”

You just walk with Dahyun in the mall casually, try to find something for Mina. Suddenly you hear some cheer from the audience, you walk there and find that there is a dance performance in the mall.

You grab Dahyun's hand and walk with her through the wave of people, trying to get closer to the stage. You finally understand why the man would cheer so loud, Tzuyu is one of the performers.

Tzuyu noticed your bulge, she smirks again and give you a signal, telling you to go to the backstage before she leaves the stage.

You release Dahyun's hand and start to move, 'where are you going, oppa?' Dahyun asks curiously while next group of performers are going on the stage. 'The show hasn't ended yet, or you want to leave now?'

“We should find Chaeyoung, I don’t want her spending too much.” I say in response.

Dahyun holds your hand again and you two leave the crowd, Tzuyu has witnessed everything from backstage. 'Another girl? Funny. He is coming to me if not stop by that girl, who is she?'

You try to call Chaeyoung but in vain, so you directly go to the vintage store, hoping to find her but you can't.

You ask Dahyun to wait for Chaeyoung outside when you go to the toilet, the toilet is empty. You try to excuse yourself, and suddenly Tzuyu comes in.

'I have waited you for so long.' She said while putting the maintenance signage on the door knob, preventing others accidentally break in.

“Tzuyu. What do you want? I’m trying to go to the bathroom.”

'I saw you need some help from the stage, so I am coming to help you.' Tzuyu walks towards and blows winds in your ear.

'Maybe I should help you to pee first.' Tzuyu unzips your trousers and takes out your still semi-harden cock, aiming at the urinal.

'Didn't you see I tell you to join me at backstage? Or do you want your sister to help you instead, I can only recognize her when I leave the stage.'

“I don’t need any help Tzuyu. Now if you could please leave and let me do my business that would be appreciated.”

'Sir, I know you are horny when you watch me dance, all the audience thought I was seducing them, but I am just dancing for you.'

'Seems your cock doesn't agree with you, look how hard it is?' Your cock is back to full hardness again when Tzuyu holding it, Tzuyu smirks and slowly rubs your tip, the pre-cum is already leaking, and she tastes it. 'Let me help you pee first, sir. I will help you for everything, no begging required.' Tzuyu then pushes you in the partition and lock the door.

I grab Tzuyu’s ass “Why pay me attention now?”

'You are the first man that can resist me, although I see you just barely make it, you still make it.' Tzuyu smiles at you. 'My daddy still begging me to let him cum every night.'

'Would you pee first, so I can help you on other aspects?' Tzuyu playfully licks her lips, signaling to you she can't wait for next. Tzuyu grabs your cock and aim at the water closet, making some 'shh' round to help you pee.

I use the bathroom, telling Tzuyu to leave afterward. “You may have an interest in me, but I’m not too interested in you.”

You try your best to resist the temptation and tell Tzuyu to leave. She is still holding your cock in her hands, 'Really? I don't think your cock agrees with you.'

Tzuyu playfully twists your cock and strokes you, soon you feel you are on the edge of the orgasm, feeling your cock throwing in her hands, 'Come on, you want to cum for me, right?' Tzuyu shows a facial expression, ready for you to cum on her face.

I turn around at the last moment cumming on the stall wall. “I think that’s enough of that.”

'Why?' Tzuyu shocked as you choose to cum on the wall instead of her face. 'Seems you like the wall more than me?'

Tzuyu doesn't hesitate to lick your rim and jerk you from behind as you still face the wall. 'Don't you love my work?' Your cock is returning to full hardness under the magic of Tzuyu. You can feel her tongue reaching deeper, and some moan leaks from your mouth.

I push her away, “That’s enough Tzuyu.” I’ll push my way out of the stall pull up my pants, hiding my erection. And walk out.

'Well, I guess I will see you in the office then?' Tzuyu gives you a fake smile and sees you leave the toilet. Once you leave, she kicks the rubbish bin away, she never feels so disrespected by other men, and she takes out her phone to make a call, 'Where are you, daddy? I just finished the performance and I want your cum...'

You leave without knowing what happens, and head to meet up with your sisters, Chaeyoung has already finished the shopping and she is in her new clothes already.

Chaeyoung looks hot in this setting and it has turned you on, your cock is even harder when trapped in your pants, 'Seems you love I wear this, wanna get a try?' Chaeyoung noticed your bulge and whispers to you.

“Soon enough I’ll get more than a try Chae.” I whisper back. “Why don’t we go out to eat next?”

'Let me help you first before we eat, we can get Dahyun eooni to get the table first.' Chaeyoung squeezes your bulge without letting Dahyun notice.

5 minutes later at the toilet, it's still under maintenance. Chaeyoung grabs the sink and lets you take her from behind. 'Fuck, oppa, it's so exciting when we have sex in public.' Chaeyoung breathes heavily as you thrust, you lick her neck and your hands are playing with her tits.

You let her keep the clothes on as you think it's hot, and as expected she is not wearing panties when you untied her belt.

'My little slut love seducing her brother to fuck her huh?' You tease her. 'Look at yourself in the mirror, look how slutty you are.'

Chaeyoung looks at the mirror, 'Yes, I am a slut for oppa. I am happy to see Oppa turned on by my body, ah... Look how horny you are, Oppa...'

I keep thrusting until I feel myself near the orgasm. I turn Chaeyoung around to face me. While kissing her I impale Chae with my cock and fill her with cum.

'Umm....' Chaeyoung moans in your mouth when you cum in her. 'Ah... You promise you won't cum in me again, is the clothes too hot to handle?' Chaeyoung smirks while getting some cum into her mouth to taste.

'We should go now, somebody may...' You help Chaeyoung gets up and ready to leave, but you hear someone is walk to the bathroom, you quickly grab Chaeyoung to hide in the toilet cubicle.

You close the door, just leave a space to peek outside. Tzuyu walks in with an old man, 'Daddy, I need your cum. You ready?' Tzuyu says while removing her dad's trousers.

'I am always ready for you, my baby girl. I haven't seen you so needy for a long time. Ah, just like that.' Tzuyu's dad starts moaning as she starts jerking him.

'Feeling good, daddy?' Tzuyu increased the speed of jerking, and his dad's leg start shaking, 'Oh, my good girl, daddy gonna cum.'

'Tell Tzuyu how you feel Daddy?'

'Oh my dear daughter, it feels so good, Daddy needs to cum... Ah...' Her Daddy shoots waves of cum on her face.

Your cock is hard again as you watch Tzuyu giving her dad a handjob, you couldn't believe it's true. Chaeyoung is jerking you as she feels horny too.

'What are you doing, Chae? They could find us.'

'Keep quiet, Oppa.' Chaeyoung smirks and start sucking you. You hold your breath and peek outside. Tzuyu's dad has finished his orgasm, but Tzuyu is not satisfied.

'Why are you cumming so little for me, did you hook with other bitch?' Tzuyu looks angry and squeezes the cock.

'No no no, darling. I haven't fucked other girls after having you, even your mother. My cock is only for you, My daughter.' He looks in pain when Tzuyu squeezes his dick.

'You know the consequences if you dare to touch other girls, daddy. If my hand is better than Mummy's pussy, why do you need her?'

'Yes, Tzuyu. I only need you, I even rejected her when she wants sex.' Dad moans again.

'That's a good boy, now cum for your baby daughter, would you?' Feel the cock is pulsing in her hand, Tzuyu increases her speed.

'Yes, Yes! Tzuyu. I will cum for you! Ahhhh!' The horny atmosphere makes you want to cum, you focus back on Chaeyoung.

I stay silent and force Chaeyoung to a stand still. Waiting till they leave to continue.

'Baby Tzuyu, you are just so good. Oh...' Tzuyu's dad is laying on the wall, he looks much older compared to when her entering the room. Tzuyu is massaging his balls, and remaining cums drips out from his tips.

The man seems exhausted, 'Tzuyu, I still want to cum more for you.' He gets the little pills from his pocket and ask Tzuyu to feed her. Tzuyu swallows the pills and kisses her dad to feed him.

'That's my good daddy, you deserve more.' Tzuyu kneels down and start stroking again.

The men's cock is hard again and he just keeps moaning. 'Oh... Tzuyu... Don't stop...'

'Wow, that man is already drained, but...' Chaeyoung whispers to you and starts jerking you again. 'Hey, oppa, focus on Me.' Chaeyoung starts to kiss while her hands are keep stroking you.

I whisper back, “Fine, just keep stroking me like that, and stay quiet” I start kissing Chae’s neck my wandering around her body.

Separated by a plastic partition, two couples are both having their time, Tzuyu is stroking her dad, while Chaeyoung is stroking you in the cubicle.

The playful words from Tzuyu's mouth are making the toilet hornier, 'Daddy, your daughter is so happy that she can make you feel good.'

The man's eyes are red, he is just a cumming machine that keeps cum for Tzuyu, his voice is becoming weaker every time he cum. 'Tzuyu... I love it, ah...'

Chaeyoung stroking you faster and faster, while your lips never leaves her body, your hands slips into her clothes to play with her tits.

Your cock throb in her hands, Chaeyoung knows what it means, her hands reach your balls, she leans to kiss you, preventing you to make any noise.

'Um...' You cum your seed on Chaeyoung's meaty thigh, it slowly dripping down from her legs.

You two break the kiss and you turn around to peek outside, there is more cum on Tzuyu's face, seems her dad has cumed a few more times when you are playing with Chaeyoung.

''Please, daughter, let daddy cum.' Her dad is begging Tzuyu. Tzuyu smirks and her free hand go to her dad's nipple.

'Ah, Tzuyu!' Another cum splash all over Tzuyu, but she didn't stop stroking, she enjoys her dad's moan, and she keep her moves.

Seems they are not gonna stop, you check your watch, it's near an hour you two entered the bathroom.

Chaeyoung's hand catches your cock again, 'Seems they are not finishing yet, one more round?'

“No, call Dahyun and make her knock at the bathroom entrance.”

'OK, oppa.' Chaeyoung gets some tissue to wipe away your cum and wears the trousers back. She takes out the phone however she accidentally drops it on the floor.

'Shit.' You and Chaeyoung look at each other. You peek outside, Tzuyu's dad just cum another time on Tzuyu. 'Ah... Tzuyu...'

'Let's continue tonight, daddy.'

'Sure, my baby girl.'

'I will clean myself, wait for me in the car daddy.'

Tzuyu's dad dresses up and struggling walk out of the bathroom, Tzuyu licks some cum and stand up, she looks at the mirror, admiring the cum on her face.

'Come out, I know you have been watching. Show yourself, tell me who you are and I may allow you to cum.' Tzuyu seems don't know it is you watching all the time.

“Stay in here.” I whisper to Chaeyoung before coming out with a laugh to face Tzuyu.

'What are you laughing at?' Tzuyu turns around to check if is it the real you, she steps her legs as she is a bit angry of your laugher.

Soon she resumes normal and turns back to the mirror again, 'So why are you still staying here, I thought you leave already. You back to enjoy the show?'

“I didn’t exactly get to go in peace when I came in here last time. And then I get to see such a cum hungry girl. It’s funny. Especially considering who it’s with, you best be going. Wouldn’t want to keep your daddy waiting.” I say going forward to wash my hands.

'I don't think it's funny, I am just helping my dad in an alternative way.' Tzuyu gets the cum from her face and licks it.

'I don't think you are here alone, Mr. You must come to release yourself. Who is she, Your sister Dahyun? Or your subordinates?' Chaeyoung looks at the cubicle through the mirror.

'Or you just jerking to me while seeing I help my dad?' Tzuyu turns to look at you, still licking her fingers. The sight make you hard instantly.

“I don’t think that’s you helping your dad if you force him to avoid having sex with others. I think you’re just being a brat. Seems like me not wanting you earlier got on your nerves and you needed someone else to get what you wanted.”

'My dad is old now, he can't cum as many time as he was young, so he chooses to only cum for me, as he feels the best when he cums for me, what's the problem.' Tzuyu answers seriously.

'And don't pretend you don't want me, your cock is hard. You try to control yourself doesn't mean I am not attractive for you.' Tzuyu walks over and catches your cock, 'See how hard you are, every man will get hard because of me, including you!'

“Just because I’m hard doesn’t mean I want you. I think that you want me more than I want you frankly. Just go with your daddy already, I’ll introduce you to the team Tuesday.”

'If you don't want me then why would you hard? Just admit it ok, it's not wrong that you hard for me.' Tzuyu starts to stroke your cock without removing your trousers. 'My dad could get some rest on the car, I guess he can't control himself when he see me again.'

'You haven't told me yet, who is with you, let me see who you choose over me. Let me know what aspects I lose.'

“You lose in so many aspects. Meet my girlfriend, Chae.” I sag going back to the stall, opening the door. I look at her, making sure she understands she has to play along and act as my girlfriend for the moment.

'HI, I am Y/N's girlfriend, Chaeyoung. Nice to Meet you. I am sorry that we interrupt you and your father.' Chaeyoung steps out of the cubicle.

'Your girlfriend is cute tho, but I don't think I will lose to her, my tits are larger, my ass is larger and my legs are longer. What aspects I am losing? Tzuyu walks around Chaeyoung to observe her.

'But I guess your girlfriend could not satisfy you so you have to fuck other girls at work, right?' Tzuyu smirks, looking how Chaeyoung would reacts to her boyfriend cheating.

Chaeyoung seems to shock and doesn't know what to respond, 'What are you talking about...'

'Are you sure she is your girlfriend, I don't a girlfriend can act do calm when she knows her boyfriend cheats on her.' Tzuyu looks at you.

Tzuyu's words triggered your memory of Nayeon, the way she yelled at you when she knows you cheated with Momo.

“She’s greater than you Tzuyu.” I kiss Chaeyoung before dragging her out of the bathroom and back to Dahyun.

'Hey boyfriend, is it true that you fuck other girls at work? Include Mina eooni?' Chaeyoung asks.

'Not living with Nayeon eooni does make your life a mess, how many girls you are having relationships outside? I finally understand why she would break up with you.'

“Yeah, it does make life a mess” I respond without saying another word.

'Hey, you haven't answer me yet, did you fuck Mina before?' Seeing you walk faster to avoid the conversation, Chaeyoung chases you from behind.

You two speak nothing again until you reach Dahyun, three of you find a cafe and enjoy the afternoon tea. Luckily Dahyun does not ask you where you two go, but Chaeyoung is teasing her again.

'Oppa just met his friend, and he addressed me as his girlfriend, lol.' Hearing Chaeyoung's words, Dahyun looks at you immediately, waiting your explain.

“It was either that or tell her she was my step sister and we weren’t exactly in a position to say that Dahyun.” I respond.

Dahyun just nods and says nothing, and tells you she understands. On the other hand, Chaeyoung seems to realize the joke is too serious, so she did not say anything again.

You are frustrated after you hear Chaeyoung mention Nayeon, it makes you feel annoyed, your life is not good after Nayeon's leave, but you don't want to hurt her again, so you just pretend you are ok on social media, don't want her to worry about you.

However, you are not ok in the real life. Yes, you miss her, but you are trying to adopt other girls in your life, you gonna move on, but you seem to hurt other girls at the same time, Mina, Momo, Sana, and even Jihyo. You sigh as you don't know what you should do. You can feel the love from them, but you are not sure about your feeling.

The mood of you three goes straight down afterward. Silence is the only thing at your table.

I clap my hands together to get their attention, “Come on, let’s not be quiet. This is the first time we’ve been together in a long time. Let’s go to an arcade and play some games, have some fun together.” I stand up and look at them to see how they feel. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

'Yeah, let's go then!' Chaeyoung jumps from her seat and hold your hand.

'Are you coming with us, Dahyun?' You let out your hand and invite her.

'Of course.' Dahyun hold your another hand and then you three head to the arcade.

'Yah, oppa, how could you get the driving license? You keep crashing on my car!'

'Shut up, Chae. If you don't block my way, I won't crash your car.'

'Wow, Dubu. You can really dance.'

'Wanna join me, Oppa?'

Three of you spend the rest of the day at the arcade to play games together.

#minasaiyatis #twice smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #m reader #female idol smut #twice imagines #dahyun smut #chaeyoung smut #tzuyu smut #twice dahyun #twice chaeyoung #twice tzuyu

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yelhsaa-a · 1 hour ago

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Caleb

“No matter how many times I fuck you,” Caleb growls against your ear, voice ragged with lust, “you’re still so damn tight. Like your body remembers me… wants me.”

His cock throbs inside you as your walls clench around him, and he curses low, hips stuttering before slamming in harder. “Fuck—this pussy was made for me. I could spend hours here. Tasting you. Ruining you.”

Your moan is swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you hungrily, all tongue and teeth, then pulls back to stare down at your chest. Your boobs bounce with every deep thrust, flushed and covered in the bruises he left earlier.

He groans. “Don’t get me started on these perfect tits. You know I’m obsessed.”

“They’re yours,” you pant, breathless, head swimming. “Use me however you want.”

“That’s right,” he growls, grabbing your legs and folding you in half without breaking rhythm. “All mine. Every part of you.”

His thrusts get rougher, merciless. One hand holds you open while the other gropes your tits, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he watches your face twist in pleasure. He leans in, lips by your ear.

“You love being used, don’t you?” he hisses. “Letting me fuck you stupid—ruin this pretty little body. You make the sweetest sounds when I break you open on my cock.”

You sob his name, clinging to his shoulders as your climax builds. Caleb never stops—his filthy mouth and possessive touch dragging you under again and again.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, voice wrecked and reverent. “My good girl. My fuckin’ obsession.”

Zayne

"You're doing well, sweetheart," Zayne murmurs, voice low and husky as his golden eyes darken with lust. His gaze lingers on the way your breasts press around his thick shaft, slowly gliding up and down. "Always so eager to please me… I’ll make sure you’re thoroughly rewarded."

You give a soft scoff, squeezing tighter around him, feeling the way his cock twitches between your tits. "You say that every time," you tease, casting him a daring look.

His breath hitches, and just as he opens his mouth to reply, you lower your head and part your glossy lips, wrapping them around his flushed tip. The taste of his precum hits your tongue, salty and intoxicating, and you hum softly as you swirl your tongue around him.

Zayne lets out a sharp sigh, his fingers weaving into your hair. His grip tightens—not forceful, but firm, guiding. Encouraging. “Good girl,” he murmurs, voice strained. “Don’t stop.”

And with the way he’s looking at you—utterly undone, craving—you wouldn’t dream of it.

Sylus

“Fuck, this tight pussy… you’re perfect,” Sylus growls, voice strained as you bounce on his cock, your tits slapping against your chest with every thrust. His eyes are glued to the motion, hungry, wild.

He snaps—grabs your tits hard, mouth sealing around one nipple, tongue flicking fast and rough. You gasp, hips stuttering.

“Don’t stop now,” he pants against your skin, teeth grazing. “Ride me while I ruin these pretty tits.”

You moan, obeying, grinding down harder as his mouth devours you and his cock stretches you open, both of you trembling on the edge of madness.

Rafayel

“You’re going to ruin me, you know that?” Rafayel mutters, voice thick with lust as he pulls you close, his gaze locked on your chest, barely contained in a lacy bra that hugs every curve. He exhales shakily, lips parting as he takes you in, cock already twitching against the fabric of his pants.

His fingers glide up your sides before he leans in, tongue tracing slow, wet circles over the lace, teasing the hard peaks beneath. You whimper, hips shifting, and he groans softly, drunk on your reactions.

“God, look at you…” he breathes, pulling the bra down just enough to bare your tits, his eyes dark and greedy. “So perfect it fucking hurts.”

He presses his cock against your soaked panties, grinding slow, filthy. “Feel that, baby?” he pants. “Got hard just thinking about fucking you while those tits bounce for me.”

You rock your hips against him, needy, and Rafayel just smirks, low and sinful. “We’re not stopping until I’ve made a mess all over you.”

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iamred-iamyellow · 21 hours ago

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౨ৎ they were roomates ౨ৎ

lily zneimer x uni student!reader | wlw

the last thing you remembered was sitting at your desk with your roommate lily. you had half drunken tea and coffee cups, stacks of books surrounding you, and piles of color coded notes spread out on the table. ah yes—the final cram before exam season. i swear, two engineering majors carry the caffeine industry on their backs.

the faint sound of boygenius played in your room, not even loud enough to hear the lyrics so you wouldn’t get distracted. lily was completely focused on her own page, scribbling a few things down as she flipped through textbooks filled with sticky notes.

you yawned and rubbed your eyes before speaking, “I think I’m gonna take a five minute break.”

she quickly looked up at you and smiled, “yeah, of course go for it.”

“i’ll just rest my eyes,” you thought to yourself while leaning your head against your hand. unfortunately, those words only ever lead to one thing.

you woke up two hours later with a blanket over your back and chair, and a pillow holding your head on the desk. your eyes slowly adjusted back to the lamplight and noticed an empty chair to the left of you.

on the other side of your dorm was lily putting her earrings in by your wardrobe mirror.

”lily?”

“yeah?”

”did you do all this?” you asked, referring to the blanket and pillow.

she nodded and wandered back over to you, “yeah, you were sleeping.”

“why didn’t you wake me up?”

“…because you were sleeping,” she says again in somehow an even softer tone.

your mind began to panic, “lils, i cannot fail this test,” you flipped through the notes under your pillow. “there’s so much to do, you should’ve woken me up-“

“its okay, its okay,” she said, calming you down by putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “i basically summarized everything else we needed for the exam and i made myself little games to remember it all. i’ve got you. we can do it together.”

you shook your head, “are you sure? i don’t wanna be a burden.”

“you are physically incapable of being anything but my everything, okay?” she reassured you.

“plus,” she shrugged. “extra practice for me then,” she laughed.

she pulled you up from your chair and you caught her eyes quickly dart up and down your body—which could mean nothing.

her gaze reached your eyes again and she paused for a moment before continuing the conversation.

“alright, get ready because tonight we’re going out,” she smiled.

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readerihardlyknowher · 1 day ago

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In Every Universe | Pt. 7

Fanfic-ception?

Spencer Agnew x Reader Warnings: None WC: 2,116 Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5, Pt. 6, Pt. 7

“Oh, hello all and welcome back to Smosh Pit Theater!” Angela announces as the narrator this time, “Now, we’re gonna be doing another one of our favorites – and your guys’ too – fanfictions, and let me tell you guys before we start, I heard the crew snickering while reading some of them over, so this should be good.”

She takes out the first script and holds it up to read. You try to glance over her shoulder to see who’s in the fic, but her hands are too shaky to see properly.

“Okay, first story! It’s called ‘Five Nights at Smosh’ by Smoshbadussy. I think I’ll have Chanse playing Tommy–”

“–Wow, Angela, making me play the only other gay one here.”

“Shut up! Courtney will play me, Shayne will play Amanda, and Y/n will play… Freddy Fazbear. Spencer, you and I can watch and narrate. Okay! Now let the scene begin!”

You take your script from Angela, briefly glancing over the first line to see who’s in the scene starting off, seeing that you (or well, Arasha) aren’t in the scene yet, so you step beside the curtain, not taking center stage and adjusting your black turtleneck which you haven’t worn since the last Smosh Pit Theater episode. It is late summer in LA after all, and you were thanking god for AC at this moment. As the scene begins, however, you watch as Chanse and Courtney stand next to each other, acting out the scene which you read.

“Man,” Courtney begins, “that was a great crying session! Glad we’ve got the crying bathroom here.”

“Totally!” Chanse’s voice replies. “I don’t even know how long we were in there for!”

Angela narrates the scene as Shayne (as Amanda) steps into the scene and gasps.

“There you two are!” Shayne does a terrible Amanda impression as he speaks. “I had to stay behind to try and find you! Everyone else left! We’re locked in!”

You and the rest of the cast do dramatic gasps. Deciding to read ahead, you see that Freddy doesn’t show up for a while, just doing sounds in the background for most of the beginning. You try to keep your eyes on the three of your castmates, but your eyes wander as they always do, and where do they land again? Spencer fucking Agnew. You don’t even notice that you’re staring until his eyes meet yours. Neither of you move, not looking away, not until he shoots you a cute wink and looking back at the performing cast. This causes you to look away as well, trying to remember that you’re on camera. Though, as the crew is very nice, they’ll likely just edit it so that you’re out of frame for that, which you already mostly are.

The time comes for you to enter in the scene, so you do as the script reads, sneaking up behind the three of them all huddled together. After about a beat, you jump up and “attack” Courtney before you get pushed off and stand to the side. You look down to see your line, only to stutter out a laugh as you read it.

“Roh roh roh roh roh.” The rest of the cast found the line just as amusing as you did, and you all take a moment for a confused laugh, before Shayne speaks as Amanda.

“Uh, guys, I think that’s Freddy Fuzzbear.”

“It’s not Fuzzbear, Amanda!” Chanse yells. All three pretend to run, and you pretend to chase, before you get to center stage and continue the stupidly dramatic scene. Eventually, it ends with you as Freddy killing Angela while the other two escape, which makes the real Angela upset, of course. The scene ends finally and you head back to the chairs you were at before, turning your head to smile over at Spencer.

“Did I do good?” Your still giggly voice asks. His lips part into that iconic smile of his.

“Absolutely perfect,” he replies. Your eyes are drawn to Shayne, who has now taken the next set of scripts and will be doing the casting. You watch from behind and to the side as his face lights up with shock.

“Okay. This one is called ‘April 2nd’ and it’s by Y/s/n-luvr.” You and Spencer shoot each other a familiar, yet not unpleasant expression. “Let’s have Y/n playing herself, and Spencer playing himself, Chanse will play Damien, Courtney as Amanda, and then Angela will play the priest in this story.”

You and Spencer now look confused. A priest? April 2nd? What could that mean? Your eyes narrow as you walk on stage, all of you standing in a half-circle, facing towards the camera. The scene is that you’re on Smosh Games playing together. Looking down at your script you read your line.

“Damn it, Spence, you’re wiping the floor with us! At least give me a chance to win!”

“Yeah,” Chanse says, making his voice deeper to mimic Damien. “Who knew you’d be this good at the game of life?” It’s silent as we wait for Shayne to read his next line.

“Spencer’s eyes darted around, purposefully avoiding Y/n’s.”

Spencer does as the script says, playing up the nervousness a little, before looking down at his script and reading.

“Guys, I told you I’m a gamer. Anyways, Y/n, it’s your turn.”

“Y/n’s hand reaches the spinner on the table, flicking it, moving her car forward, before pulling the card on top of the pile. Once she sees what it says, her face shrivels up in confusion.”

You perform the actions with a perfect amount of stage exaggeration, pretending to pull the card before reading your script.

“‘Will you marry me?’ I didn’t know that was a card in here.”

“Spencer steps out from behind the table, before kneeling down in front of it on one knee.”

“It isn’t, babe. I uh… I wanted to propose to you doing something we both love, playing games together.”

Your face heats up in embarrassment. Someone wrote a whole fanfic about Spencer proposing to you. And now he’s in front of you, acting it out, with all of your friends/coworkers watching with glee.

“So,” his voice cuts through your thoughts. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Spence! I never thought you’d ask!”

“Y/n jumps into Spencer’s arms in a warm and firm embrace, Damien and Amanda cheering, especially Amanda.”

You look over at Spencer, wondering how you should approach the hug. You’re certainly not going to be jumping into his arms as the script says, even if his cutely red face makes you want to do so. So instead you go for the classic side hug, perfect for on-camera romance. You figure the scene must be over now, so become confused once Shayne calls for everyone to get in place for the next positions. Shayne’s booming voice announces that today’s the day of the wedding, and you two are holding it with the Smosh cast and crew.

You gulp down the excitement/anxiety in your throat and wait to the side as the script indicates that you’re not in the scene yet again. You watch from the side as Spencer stands, waiting for you, and Shayne reads out how he’s patiently watching as you begin to walk down the aisle. Rolling your eyes, you do as the script says, rolling yours up to pretend it’s a bouquet. You try to avoid Spencer’s eyes, but fail as you see him wiping a fake teat, which makes you let out a chuckle.

As you finish your walk down the “aisle”, you stand in front of Spencer, holding your hands out as he takes them in his warm, soft ones. You say, “this feels familiar” off-script, which gets a few laughs. A soft smile is present on his face, he waits for a moment, seeming to forget about the whole idea that you’re acting out a scene, before he scrambles to pull out his script.

“Y/n, ever since I first saw you in your interview here at Smosh, I knew you were the one for me. Your laugh brightens my day, your eyes light up every room you’re in. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife. I’m so happy to officially get to call you that. I can’t wait to play videogames and watch movies with you for the rest of my life.”

You place your hand on your heart as he reads, genuinely touched by 1. The fact that someone wrote something so sweet, and 2. The fact that Spencer’s reading it out loud to you so sweetly. The look he gives you shows that while those aren’t his original words, he does mean all the kind things he’s saying, and it only adds to the tightness you’ve been feeling in your chest. Pulling in a deep breath, you look at your part of the script.

“Spencer, you’re my best friend, the love of my life, and now my actual husband–” you see the next line so you turn to look at the camera with a serious expression on your face. “Guys, don’t clip this.” Turning back to the script, you take a deep breath, before pushing the words out far too seriously than you’ve ever said the words before. “And I love you.”

“Woo!”

You shoot a glare to Chanse, before resuming your line.

“And I’ll be happy to listen to you yap about old Nintendo games until the day I die.”

“Now,” Angela’s voice softens the blow after what you said, making you feel a little less awkward having read all that out loud. “Charles Spencer Agnew, do you take Y/n (M/n) L/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The silly, relaxed smile spreads even wider across his face, the sight making your own body relax.

“I do.”

“And Y/n (M/n) L/n, do you take Charles Spencer Agnew to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Your own smile broadens as you don’t even need to glance down at your script.

“I do.”

“Then I hereby pronounce you as man and wife. You may now kiss.”

Shoot, you had forgotten about this, but one look at Spencer’s mischievous smile says all that you need. As the cast and crew around you clap at the scene, you both ever so slowly lean into one another, eyes closing, and just when you know people will wonder if you’ll actually do it, you pull back, pointing to the camera with a smile plastered on your face.

“Got your asses! No more ship material for you! You've had enough!”

Both Chanse and Courtney groan at the psych-out, before you all come back to the chairs and sit together for the recap of everyone’s thoughts. Shayne turns to Spencer to speak first.

“So Spencer, would you ever propose to someone on Smosh games?”

Spencer shakes his head, somehow looking all too calm at this moment. You’re certain the comments later will be noticing how you look a little too nervous from all that.

“I wouldn’t do half of the things in this story, especially not a public proposal. Keep that shit private.” Everyone, including him, chuckles at this statement, before he speaks again. “Also, I definitely wouldn’t invite you guys to our wedding.”

Our wedding.

No one seems to notice the phrasing as they all laugh, and you join in as well as to not stand out on camera. You decide to chime in a little so as to not seem too quiet.

“Also, we didn’t meet during my interview, we met officially like two weeks later. We were both a little nervous to talk to new people at first since it was such a new job and we didn’t want to screw it up.” Spencer nods and puts his finger up to make a point while looking over at you.

“While that is true, that doesn’t mean that I didn’t see you before that and fall absolutely head over heels at first glance, which is something I'd clearly do.”

You roll your eyes at his statement. You know he’s just trying to stir the pot some more and banter with you, but at this moment, you’re still a little overwhelmed with the whole getting married in character as just the two of you. But you’re glad to know that the next fanfiction is getting pulled up and neither you, nor you as a character, are in it, so you’re happy to just sit back and watch, seeing your friends do a silly little scene that someone wrote about you guys. Even if yours and Spencer’s eyes meet a few times throughout in a way which makes you strangely nervous, you feel happy, and even happier when the video finally ends.

Tag list: @lisiliely, aliceblxck, burrowedinnature77, 65percentleg

#smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader

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shoyastars · 23 hours ago

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Big thank you to @n0t-evenhere for looking over my fanfic! I appreciate the help, go check them out!

Now then! Onto the birthday celebration!

Birthday Photo - NSFW

—

April 30th - Ray’s Birthday

Headlines and even the news announcing the Hero Binary Star’s birthday. You sigh as you know how these things usually go, everyone will want to give your boyfriend or Binary Star their gifts and attention, while you just want to spend time with him. You can’t help but curse the NAHA for hogging him.

You bring yourself to be reasonable again, after all… if everyone’s favorite hero wasn’t able to be seen on his birthday then people might cause useless drama over it, however some people still criticized the NAHA for making him work on his birthday too. A double edged sword, if only he had a cloning ability… wait scratch that, you didn’t… who knows what type of shit he could pull if he had one…

You turned off the tv and decided to go back to making a cake instead of going to a store. He liked your cake last year, so why not do it again this year but with more practice and with the help for decoration from YouTube tutorials that you thought Ray would like. You were more confident in this one, but only setting a cake didn’t sit right with you… yes you did it last year, but what gift could you give him? He can buy anything he wants, of course you were an option, but it really didn’t make your thought easy. You sigh tired, as you hummed to a relaxing melody playing in the background, somehow causing you to drift off into sleep, you felt so relaxed your eyes completely shut..

The buzz of your phone against the table annoys you enough to reach for it, in your half asleep state, you yawn and manage to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Star, just wanted to call and see how you were holding up at home.”

Hearing Ray’s voice causes you to wake up instantly, looking at the date, you sigh in relief that you didn’t sleep the full day away.

“I’m good, just um… watching some tv and doom scrolling… a lot of things popped up about you.”

“I bet… but I’m more interested in spending time with you after all this…”

You felt your face head up, as much as he is supposed to have his birthday about him, he still can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you.

“Yeah yeah.. why make it about me though? Seriously if anything I should be more excited to see you today of all days.”

Ray chuckled as you smiled on the other end of the phone. Sometimes you wonder if you still were dreaming upon how the two of you crossed paths… it would’ve been one hell of a dream… but reality always has its surprises… speaking of surprises… his gift… many times have you thought of getting his gift for his birthday…. Yet… the obvious always settles in…. He can literally buy anything he wants or needs, but you were someone he’d rather have over any object he can use anytime.

“I’ll see you when you get home! Happy Birthday Ray.”

Ray smiles on the other end, a light pink across his face, hearing your voice was at all was definitely the best gift he’s had all day.

“Thank you Star.. I’ll see you soon.”

The beep as the call ends, the settling thoughts come in, you had no idea or at least have an idea for a gift for his birthday… maybe some would say it’s unnecessary, but you really couldn’t think of a better idea. You knew him well by now, you weren’t dumb not to notice. However… you were sure you didn’t have anything too interesting to the eye.

You saw an interesting thing come on your feed though, taking Burlesque photos… though they came up as a show for the groom during the wedding or at reception… you remember having a having a camera that could help you take one… it is old however.. you would have to see if it still works, after all what's wrong with this idea? If anything it’s been awhile since the two of you…

You shook your head and decided to go through with it, even if you end up regretting it later… At least you won’t have work tomorrow… all the better for it. At least you hope.

You searched for awhile, till finally finding the old thing. Though you wiped away the dust, you pressed the button to take a quick photo to see if it’s still useable, lucky it still does…. You did need a shower.. you didn’t like how sweaty you were after taking a nap.

When you did take pictures of yourself, looking at them now, you were hoping it was good enough, you took at least three, one you accidentally made blurry, the other you didn’t like, third you were ok with. You sigh as you then decide to at least keep it on your nightstand. You wondered how to actually give it to him after he comes back. Last time you tried to send him a photo of yourself, you immediately regretted it when you were running late to your job in the morning. So that’s off the table.

You wondered if you had a small box, maybe you could do one of those annoying open a box to another box…. No… that doesn’t even sound like a good idea for just one photo of you…

You looked online again, only find the people doing this were handing it to their partner, or had a whole damn photo book of themselves to give to their partners. You were annoyed at this point, you were starting to think this was a bad idea, you grabbed the photo when suddenly you hear the door open and shut.

‘Fuck! What time is it??’

“Star, I’m back!”

“Uh…”

You quickly turned off your phone and went to get the photo, you didn’t know what to do. Only for Ray to look over at you in your panicked state and wonder what exactly you’re worried about.

“Something wrong?”

“Nope! Nothin, nothin at all!”

“Star…”

“Aren’t you going to take a shower? You probably should go!”

You go to push his towards the bathroom as he looks confused, yes he was still in his hero suit after a long day, but he was mostly concerned for you.

“Star, what’s going on?”

“You just arrived at a bad time is all! Besides I need time… to do something…”

Ray looked at you, he really wished he didn’t promise to not read your mind unless it was an emergency.. He really didn’t like it when you hid stuff from him, but he seems more focused on your facial expressions. It’s become a new habit, when he finally caught on he only smiled a bit.

“Alright, I’ll be out soon.”

“Perfect! Ah! I mean… ahem! Just, don’t take too long.”

Ray chuckled at that as he closed the door behind him, you let out a sigh of relief, now you just needed to think, or at least whisper to yourself what exactly to do…

You didn’t want to just give him a photo, maybe… maybe it would be better if you and him were to-… you honestly were at a loss, why did you think this was a good idea?

Well… you took it, so you might as well go all the way.. you go to get something more suitable for tonight, you liked what you saw, he’ll probably like it too, however you also needed to keep things settled until the right moment to give it to him. When you went back to the kitchen for the cake, you made sure it was all good. You were hoping this will all work out. Despite the fact it was a trend online instead of an original idea for his birthday, you take a deep breath and as you mapped out a plan on how to give him this gift… or at least what you call a gift.

You heard the bathroom door open and close, when you saw him peak in you felt you’re heart racing. Ray seemed to notice you’re nervous movements, however you had to go through with this. You can’t just pull out now, you were a fucking villain before, you faced the dangers of criminal life in the shadows, and faced double, even though he nearly cut you’re finger off. You took the cake you made and Ray smiled as you placed it on the table. He patted you’re head, perhaps to ease you’re nerves.

It really didn’t help.

“Looks like you took time to make me a cake yet again, thank you Star.”

“I did my best to improve my baking skills this year, so enjoy it while you can.”

“I know I will, since it’s made from you.”

Ray took the fork you provided along with the cake, and as you did with your own slice. A bit of talking would pass as you slowly begin to ease you’re nerves over the surprise. You and Ray would eventually go to the bedroom you two would share when he stayed over, usually it’s just you’re bed but you and him would share it mostly. Ray would open the window and light his cigarette for a quick smoke. You begin to lay back in bed, Ray gives a small smile seeing you so relaxed.

“Tired already?”

“What can I say? Made a cake and waited for you to come back.”

“Sorry, can’t really help it.”

“No, it’s fine. After all… it’s a double edge sword situation where you have to go, if you didn’t fans would rally around.”

Ray laughed a bit at that, you looked at him as he did. Giving him a bit of a look.

“What?”

“Were you… nevermind..”

“No, tell me!”

“…Were you jealous of me getting all the attention from fans of that guy?”

You felt you’re face heat up, Ray begins to laugh again. You covered your face with a pillow.

“Shut up!”

“Star- it really isn’t that serious.”

“Really? Especially since they get you all day?”

Ray sighed and put out his cigarette, sitting beside you, as you peaked at him with some of your face still in the pillow.

“They can have Binary Star, but I recall that you wanted me, Remember?”

You grumbled into the pillow, but knew he was right. You could care less for Binary Star… you said you wanted him, so you have him. Yet again, Ray was alway the guy you fell for… so to say the people had him… was wrong.. because that wasn’t him but a mask he put on for a show he’s forced to play…

“Yeah… I guess, I’m just upset that I couldn’t spend most of my time with you.. especially on your birthday. I want to spend time with my Ray ya know?”

You laughed a bit awkwardly, Ray ruffled your hair smiling at you. You smile as you then go to fix your hair. You two shared a quick kiss before gone to get off the bed, only to stop.

“Something wrong-“

“What’s that?”

You looked where his gaze was, that’s when you remembered. The photo! You quickly go to reach it only for him to take it before you could. You immediately knew this was the moment you wished you could just disappear. Ray looks at the photo and you a couple of times, he runs his hand through his hair a bit, still sat on the the edge of the bed. You want to say something, but what? Surprise??? You hated how you forgot about one simple thing on your bedside table! So embarrassing… so humiliating how you didn’t go through with your plan!

“So uh.. this is you?”

“I- wanted to give you gift this time…”

“Oh, a gift huh?”

“Don’t start…”

He looked at you as you go to cover yourself with the blanket. After a bit you felt the bed shift by his movements, he moved the blanket away from you, meeting eye to eye now. You tried to look away but one of his hands cupped your face, his thumb moving over your bottom lip. You saw the look in his eyes, a familiar desire.

“I think it’s cute..”

He leaned in close to your ear, making you’re heart race again, you swear you were going to have a heart attack. His hot breath can be felt against it.

“However, I prefer the real deal. Wouldn’t you agree, my star?”

You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at his words, he chuckled at you’re reaction, moving away from you’re ear to look at you. Was he really teasing you right now? Well you did take the photo knowing he was going to be like this, so why are you still getting flustered like some teenage virgin reading smutty books?

“I didn’t know if that would be a good gift ether way so-“

“So, I’ll be sure to cherish this when I think of you.”

“Ray, what the fuck!”

“Ah ah! You said it was a gift.”

“I- well, true… but-“

“So easy to tease.”

“Fuck off!”

You cover your face with your hands, as much as you are glad he likes it. Does he really have to express what he’s mostly going to do??? What else would he do other than jerk it to your photo? Ray smirked as you kept you’re hands to your face. However, he wasn’t really planning on just teasing you.. especially after seeing you like that for him..

You felt as his hand went under you’re shirt, you immediately turned your attention to him.

“Ray- Wha!”

“What? Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting me to not adore you after giving me such a thoughtful gift.”

Feeling his warm hand trailing over your body felt good, you couldn’t resist it… you wanted it.. however a deep part of you still felt more embarrassed by the situation. Jesus Christ, why can’t you just pick a struggle today?

Small sounds of pleasure came from you as he began to kiss and nip your neck, you liked how he did that.

“Did you also plan ahead by picking out these clothes for easy access for me?”

“Shut… up..”

He let out a small laugh as his hand trailed down, you wanted it, you really did, his touch was drawing you in more and more. He really did know what he was doing.. him hearing the small gasps of pleasure were even better, he continued to treat you like this, he wanted you to know how much he loved his gift, this was definitely the best gift he’s been given all day, instead of those gifts those people though he might like… maybe for that guy, this though…. He loved this one more..

The small whispers of his name as he continued were beautiful to him, he always liked hearing you say his name. His name. No one else’s… you were his, he was yours. He hoped you knew that, even after all this time…

“Ray-“

“You’re doing amazing Star.~”

The time you let yourself go with him felt right, so safe, so good. Ray smiled at you as he went to take off both his sweater and undershirt, his scars and muscular frame now visible to your eyes, he leaned in to kiss you, a deep passionate kiss. Assisting you in taking off your clothes as you two were so lost in each other's lust. Finally hearing that stupid belt come off, you were both eager to continue this dance with each other. Hands intertwined as you continued to feel this pleasure with him, the moans between the two of you were sweet melodies to each other's ears, such passion, so much love for one another, it drew both of you in. Two broken souls, two who wanted to find each other, to try and become something beautiful together. The hunger along with the love in Ray’s eyes only further shows how you don’t regret your decision, and how you have no regrets.

The moan of your name with so much affection in saying it was enough to make you feel content, to feel so satisfied with this outcome. The two of you now breathless, sharing one more tender kiss. How close his face was to yours, causing the both of you to feel content in this moment. Just the two of you in this moment of bliss.

He cherished this gift, as you treasured his love for it. Resting in each other’s embrace, no longer a care in the world.

—

In the Morning, the sun shines on your face as you groaned in annoyance, you realized that your clothes were still on the floor as you woke up a bit, going to get off the bed proving impossible, your tired boyfriend clinging to you. You signed in as you ran your hand through his messy hair, a hum of approval from him as he kept his arms around you. This moment is counted as a beautiful moment of peace for you. You stayed like this for a couple more minutes, the rest of the day, despite it not being his birthday anymore, was enjoyed by the two of you.

Just being with you made his day all the more brighter, the people can have Binary Star, Ray on the other hand, was all yours. Forever and always.

You were His Star, as much as he was Your Ray.

—

Happy Birthday to our Favorite Hero! <3

#Happy Birthday to my husband!#Happy Birthday Ray!#binary star hero #binary star hero vn #binarystarhero #bshvn #hehehe #binary star hero ray #bsh ray

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winchesterwild78 · 2 days ago

Text

Soldier Boy’s Homecoming

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Just pure filth. SMUT, Language, Porn without much plot.

A/N: Sorry not sorry. I’m absolutely freaking FERAL! The recent con photos of Jensen are to blame.

This story is nothing but pure SMUT. Please enjoy.

I don’t own the rights to Soldier Boys character but all work is my own. Please feel free to share and like. Comments and suggestions are appreciated.

*written fast and not edited. Please overlook any errors.*

Minors DNI 18+

“Welcome home Ben. I missed you.” I whispered into his ear as he took me in his arms in the bed.

Ben looked up from where his face was buried in my hair, eyes widening at the sound of my voice. His heart leapt in his chest, pounding against his ribs like a drum.

"You're... awake?" He asked softly, voice rough from disuse. It had been so long since he'd spoken, the words foreign on his tongue.

I turned in his arms to face him, green eyes shining in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains. They were just as beautiful as I remembered, soft features and full lips curled into a warm smile.

"I missed you too," he whispered, as I reached up to cup his cheek. My thumb brushed over his cheekbone, tracing the sharp line of it.

Ben leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The simple gesture felt like coming home, like everything he'd been searching for in the darkness.

He turned his head to press a kiss to my palm, lips brushing over the smooth skin. "I thought I'd lost you," he admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

My brows furrowed, concern etched into my features. "How could you lose me when you were the one who left?" I asked, but there was no accusation in my tone. Only a gentle curiosity.

Ben sighed, leaning his forehead against mine. "I didn't leave by choice," he murmured, the words heavy on his tongue.

He knew he couldn't tell me the truth, not yet. Not until he had a plan, until he knew for certain that he wouldn't be ripped away from me again.

Instead, he caught my lips with his own, kissing me deeply. It started out slow, a soft brush of lips against lips, before it turned hungry and desperate.

He poured every ounce of longing and love into that kiss, every moment he'd spent dreaming of me, of holding me, of loving me.

His hands roamed on my back, pulling me flush against him until there wasn't an inch of space between our bodies. He could feel every curve and dip, every breath I took.

“Meet me at the hotel on Main in 15 minutes. I’ll check in under Sandra Dee.”

Ben pulled back from the kiss, chest heaving with ragged breaths. He searched my eyes, trying to gauge my expression in the dim light.

"Sandra Dee?" He repeated, brow quirked in amusement. "Really? I know I've been gone for a while, but I didn't think you'd resorted to using fake names."

I playfully rolled my eyes, a smirk playing on my lips. "It's not a fake name, ass. It's a pseudonym. And I'll have you know, I've used it quite a few times since you've been gone."

Ben chuckled, the sound rusty in his ears. "Alright, alright. I won't question your choices."

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, seeing the glowing red numbers blur before his tired eyes. "15 minutes though? You're giving me a 15 minute head start?"

I shrugged one shoulder, a coy smile on my face. "Think you can make it in time, Soldier Boy?" I teased, using the old nickname like a weapon.

Ben grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "Oh, I'll make it in time," he promised, voice low and dripping with unspoken desire. "But I can't guarantee I'll be able to control myself once I get there."

With that, he rolled out of bed and snatched up the bloody clothes he'd worn earlier. He knew he couldn't go to the hotel looking like a murderer.

"15 minutes," he repeated as he started to leave the room. "Don't keep me waiting."

And with that, he disappeared out the door and down the stairs, a man on a mission to get to his lover.

I grabbed my stuff and headed towards the hotel. Nervously waiting but filled with anticipation. God I missed him. I couldn’t wait to be in his arms again.

Ben stepped into the dimly lit lobby of the hotel on Main, the old carpet beneath his feet worn and stained. The air was thick with the scent of cigarettes and stale coffee, a far cry from the sterile halls of the Russian lab.

He approached the front desk, the bored looking clerk barely glancing up from her magazine as he leaned against the counter. "Sandra Dee," he said, voice low and gruff. "I have a reservation."

The clerk flipped through the pages of the registry, her nail polish chipped and cracked. "Ah, yes. Here it is." She handed him a key on a tarnished brass keychain. "Room 203. Second floor, down the hall to the left."

Ben snatched the key, the metal cool against his palm. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest

I waited. My skin was on fire with anticipation and goosebumps. Then I heard the door open. Soldier Boy standing there looking like a Greek God. My thighs clenched together and my breath hitched. His eyes raked over my body. I was wearing the dark green lingerie he bought me before he left.

Ben stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a sense of finality. His eyes immediately found me, drinking in the sight of me like a man dying of thirst.

I was a vision, standing by the window in the dim light spilling in from the streetlamps outside. The dark green lingerie hugged my curves, the soft fabric clinging to my full breasts and hips in a way that made Ben's mouth go dry.

His eyes raked over my body again, taking in every inch of exposed skin, every dip and swell that he remembered so well. It was like coming home, like seeing a piece of his soul standing before him.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. He took a step closer, then another, until he was standing in front of me, close enough to feel the heat radiating off my skin.

His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over the soft skin there. He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, and let out a shuddering breath.

"I missed you," he whispered, voice rough with emotion. "I missed you so fucking much."

“I missed you too. I’ve missed your lips, your hands, your body and your cock.”

Ben's heart raced at my words, a wave of lust and longing crashing over him. He could feel his cock twitching in his pants, already hardening at the thought of touching me again.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, voice low and heavy with desire. "You have no idea how much I've missed you too. Missed every fucking inch of you."

His hands slid down to my waist, gripping my hips tightly. He pulled me flush against him, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressing against my stomach.

"I've dreamed about this," he murmured, nuzzling into my neck. "Dreams of holding you, tasting you, fucking you until you scream my name."

He nipped at my throat, teeth grazing over my pulse point. His hands slid down to grab my ass, squeezing the firm globes and pulling me even harder against him.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he breathed, hot breath fanning over my ear. "Want to taste your skin, your lips, your cunt. Want to make you come on my tongue until you forget your own fucking name."

He rocked his hips against mine, the friction delicious even through our clothes. "Tell me you want it too," he demanded, voice rough and needy. "Tell me you need my cock as much as I need to be buried inside you."

“I want it. I need your cock buried inside me. Please make me cum Soldier Boy!”

Ben groaned at my desperate plea, his cock throbbing and straining against the confines of his pants. He couldn't hold back any longer. With a growl, he swept me up into his strong arms and carried me to the bed, laying me down on the worn but clean sheets.

"I'm going to make you cum so hard, baby," he promised darkly, his voice a low rumble. "Gonna worship this sexy fucking body until you're dripping and begging for my cock."

He started at my neck, his lips and tongue and teeth working over my sensitive skin. He licked and sucked and bit, marking me, claiming me as his.

His hands roamed my body, sliding under the thin fabric of the lingerie to cup and squeeze and tease. He rolled my nipples between his fingers until they were stiff peaks, until I was arching into his touch with needy little whimpers.

"Fuck, I love these tits," he groaned, ducking his head to take one into his mouth. He sucked hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, before grazing it with his teeth.

I cried out, hands fisting in his short brown hair, holding him to me. "Oh god, yes! Don't stop!"

Ben chuckled darkly around my breast, the vibrations sending shivers through my body. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment until I was writhing beneath him, thighs rubbing together with desperate need.

He kissed down my body, tongue dipping into my navel before he was kneeling between my spread thighs. He looked up at me from under his lashes, green eyes dark with lust.

"Keep these thighs spread for me, baby," he ordered, hands gripping my inner thighs. "Keep this sweet cunt open and ready for my tongue and my cock."

And with that, he leaned in and dragged his tongue along my cloth-covered slit, groaning at the damp fabric, feeling the heat of my core even through the thin lingerie. He could smell my arousal, the musky scent of my heat.

“Oh fuck Soldier Boy! Please!”

Ben could feel my need, hear it in the desperate plea that fell from my lips. It spurred him on, urged him to give me what I craved.

"Please what, baby?" he growled, voice vibrating against my cloth-covered sex. "Tell me what you need. Beg for it."

He punctuated his words with a firm press of his tongue against my clothed clit, the rough muscle circling the sensitive nub. He could feel the damp patch growing, the fabric molding to my shape.

I whimpered, hips bucking up against his face. "Please, I... I need your mouth on me. I need you to eat my pussy until I scream!"

Ben grinned wickedly, pleased with my desperation. "Good girl," he purred. "I'm going to devour this sweet cunt until you're shaking and begging for my cock."

With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and yanked them down, tossing them aside. And then his mouth was on me, hot and hungry and insatiable.

He licked a hot stripe up my slit, groaning at the taste of me, the feel of my slick folds against his tongue. He delved deep, tongue plunging into my tight channel, fucking me with the slick muscle.

I cried out, back arching off the bed, hands fisting in his hair. "Oh god, yes! Just like that! Don't stop!"

Ben growled against my sex, the sound rumbling through my core. He lapped at my juices, drinking down the arousal like a man dying of thirst. His hands gripped my ass, pulling me harder against his mouth, grinding my dripping pussy against his face.

He zeroed in on my clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, tongue flicking over it rapidly. He could feel me tensing, my thighs trembling around his head. He knew I was close.

"Cum for me, baby," he commanded, voice rough against my sex. "Cum all over my fucking face. I want to taste it, want to feel it dripping down my chin."

And with that, he redoubled his efforts, tongue and lips and teeth all working in tandem to bring me to the edge. He could feel my body tightening, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Ben felt my body tense, my thighs clamping around his head as my orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. He didn't let up, continuing to suckle and lick at my clit, pushing me through it, drawing out my pleasure.

As my climax hit, I let out a scream of ecstasy, my body convulsing, back arching sharply off the bed. And then, just as Ben had hoped, my release gushed out of me, my juices flooding his mouth and dripping down his chin.

He groaned in satisfaction, lapping up every drop, swallowing my essence greedily. He could feel my walls fluttering around his tongue, my honey flowing freely.

"That's it, baby," he praised, voice muffled against my pussy. "Come all over my face, just like that. Fucking soak me."

He continued to stroke my clit with the flat of his tongue, helping to prolong my high, until my body went limp and boneless against the mattress. Only then did he pull back, licking his lips with a wicked grin.

He crawled up my body, hovering over me, letting me see the mess I’d made of his face. "Look at you, so fucking sexy when you come undone," he murmured, voice rough and heavy with lust.

His cock was straining against his pants, a tent clearly visible. He rocked his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he was, how much he needed me.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he promised darkly. "Gonna sink my cock deep into this tight little cunt and make you scream all over again."

He reached down to undo his belt, the metal clanking loudly in the quiet room. "Are you ready for it, baby? Ready to be split open on my thick cock?"

“Yes! Fuck me Soldier Boy!”

Ben didn't need to be told twice. With a feral growl, he shoved his pants and underwear down, freeing his massive, throbbing cock. It slapped against his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his abs.

My eyes widened at the sight, a fresh gush of arousal flooding my core. I was still sensitive from my intense orgasm, but the thought of being filled by Soldier Boy's huge cock only heightened my desire.

He settled between my spread thighs, the thick head of his dick nudging against my entrance. I whimpered, trying to rock my hips to take him inside, but Ben held my hips still.

"Not yet, greedy girl," he teased, voice a low rumble. "I'm going to take you when I'm ready."

He rolled his hips, the underside of his cock sliding along my slit, coating itself in my slick arousal. I shuddered, head thrown back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

"Please, Soldier Boy," I begged, voice breathless and needy. "I need your cock so badly. I'm so empty..."

Ben shuddered, feeling the same desperation. He needed to be inside me, needed to claim me, to make me his again. With a final, deep breath, he thrust forward, the broad head of his cock popping past my entrance and sinking into my tight heat.

I cried out, a sharp gasp of pleasure that turned into a low moan as Ben pushed forward, inch after thick inch of his cock disappearing inside my clutching sex. He didn't stop until he was fully sheathed, his heavy balls nestling against my ass.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," Ben groaned, head dropping to my shoulder as he fought the urge to come right then and there. "So fucking perfect."

He paused for a moment, letting me adjust to the size of him, before he started to move. He pulled out slowly, until just the tip remained inside me, before slamming back in with a force that shook the bed.

"Yes!" I screamed, fingers digging into Ben's back, nails leaving red crescents in his skin. "Harder!"

Ben grinned, a feral, wolfish smile that made my heart race. He started to pound into me, hips slapping against mine with each powerful thrust.

“Oh fuck! Yes Ben!”

Ben could feel my pussy clenching around him, my walls fluttering and gripping his pistoning cock like a velvet vise. He groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pistoned his hips faster, driving into my welcoming heat with increasing force.

"That's it, baby," he growled, voice rough and heavy with lust. "Take my cock. Fucking take it!"

He hooked my knees over his elbows, nearly bending me in half as he loomed over me. The new angle allowed him to drive even deeper, the head of his cock kissing my cervix with each powerful thrust.

I could only moan and gasp, my voice rising in pitch as my pleasure mounted. I could feel every ridge and vein of Ben's thick shaft as it stretched me wide, filling me so completely.

"Harder!" I begged, hands fisting in the sheets beneath me. "Fuck me harder, Soldier Boy! Ruin my pussy!"

Ben snarled, a dark, dangerous sound that sent a thrill of fear and excitement down my spine. He complied with my demand, slamming into me with enough force to rock the headboard against the wall.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their wanton moans and cries. Ben could feel my body tensing, my walls starting to ripple around his cock.

Ben could feel my body starting to tremble, my walls clamping down around his pistoning cock like a silken vice. He knew I was close, could hear it in the desperate pitch of my moans and the way my nails raked down his back.

"That's it, baby," he growled, voice tight with his own impending release. "Come on my cock. Fucking soak it!"

He reached between their sweat-slicked bodies, his calloused fingers finding my sensitive clit. He rubbed the swollen nub in tight, rough circles, pushing me closer to the edge.

I let out a high, keening cry, my back arching off the bed as my orgasm crashed over me. My pussy clamped down around Ben's cock, the muscles fluttering and rippling as I came hard.

The sensation was too much for Ben to withstand. With a hoarse shout, he slammed into me one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his own release overtook him. His cock jerked and throbbed as he emptied himself inside me, painting my walls with thick ropes of his hot seed.

"Fuck, Y/N!" he roared, head thrown back in ecstasy as he filled me with his come. "Take it, fucking take it all!"

I could only moan weakly, my body going limp beneath him as I felt the warmth of his release flooding my core. I could feel it sloshing inside me, the sheer volume of it making my belly bloat slightly.

Ben collapsed on top of me, careful not to crush me with his weight. He panted harshly, his chest heaving against mine as we both struggled to catch our breath.

"That was... fuck, that was incredible," he murmured, voice rough and sated. He lifted his head to look at me, green eyes soft with adoration and lust. "I love you, Y/N. I fucking love you so much."

I could only smile up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I love you too, Soldier Boy," I whispered. "Welcome home."

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #soldier boy x plus size reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader

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