#but when these two even get to have their dance break it's like well this is everything lmao

[sinofwriting]

The Wedding Bells Aren't For Me - Max Verstappen (& Lando Norris)

Words: 1,682 Summary: It’s Oscar’s wedding and Lando is ready. He’s ready to finally ask her out. But Max just had to ruin it. Note(s): Piastri!Reader, Lando is upset and bitter in this. Lando girlies please be nice to me.

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Lando smiles as he watches Oscar and Lily finish their first dance, other people starting to join. It had been a beautiful ceremony, one that Lily had clearly put a lot of thought into and the reception hall showed that as well.

His eyes move around the room, taking in the few different people from McLaren, Oscar’s family, Lily’s family, and drivers, retired, active, never made it to F1, there was quite a collection. He pulls a bit at his tie as he notices the table that a few drivers and their partners had taken over.

Charles and Alex, Pierre and Kika, Lily and Alex, and god that was a bit confusing, Mark was over there as well, Carmen and George and most importantly Y/N, Oscar’s sister.

She was laughing at something Pierre just said, Kika and Alex both examining her nails while Charles shakes his head at the French driver.

She looked gorgeous in her maid of honor dress and Lando can remember the confusion that had flooded him when Oscar had said that she was the maid of honor before he tried to get the best man position despite knowing that Oscar hadn’t even considered him to be a groomsman, they just didn’t talk off and away from the track. Though a bit of bitterness had hit him when he learned who Oscar’s best man was.

The color of the dress brought out her eyes and the thought reminds him of her speech. Talking about how as both sister of the groom and best friend of the bride, she had been so happy when they got together and how thrilled she was to see them take this next step.

A soft smile forms on his face as he remembers her speech, it had been heartfelt and with a few funny moments. He had expected her to bring up some embarrassing moments, but she had only gently teased the couple a few times. Even Logan hadn’t brought up anything embarrassing in his best man speech.

As he stares at her, he can’t help but imagine her in a different dress, in a wedding dress, a veil covering her face as she walks down the aisle to him. It was far too soon to think about to consider, but maybe it was like what people said, there was just something about weddings.

He continues to watch her as she talks to Kika, Alex, Pierre and Charles. Sometimes Mark chiming in or George or Carmen, but it’s mainly those five that are talking. It’s surprising seeing how easy the five converse. He hadn’t really been aware that she was close to Charles or Pierre. He knew she was close to their girlfriends, to most of the driver’s girlfriends, as fans like to share photos of the girls together and talking.

His eyes break away for a moment as he hears the loud sound of laughing and watches as Lily laughs, a hand over her heart as Oscar and Logan bicker about something, he thinks he can hear just the word karting.

It makes him wish Carlos was here, but there was no way in hell that he was ever going to get invited. The thought of Carlos makes his eyebrows furrow because what was Pierre or George doing here?

Oscar wasn’t close to many drivers on track let alone keeping up with them off track. He knew that because of Logan, Alex and him talked a bit off track. Charles and Oscar had joked about the father and son thing, but a genuine friendship had formed after Monaco this year. But Pierre and George made no sense.

The only thing he can think of is that George had been one of the few drivers that had also been somewhat close to Logan, having the same manager, and maybe he had gotten an invite like that. And well Pierre and Charles were probably the friendliest drivers off track, probably the only two that would actually be friends if they hadn’t ended up in F1. They were an oddity.

The sound of her laughs draws him out of his thoughts and he smiles again at the sight, drinking it in.

He doesn’t know why, but the sound of it now fills him with confidence. He was going to do it. He was going to ask her out. He’d wanted to since the 2024 season had started, since after seeing how happy she was for Oscar in Qatar when Oscar won his first sprint race. He should have done it sooner, but it never felt like a good time, but now feels like the perfect time.

She was happy, smiling, and weddings made people think about love, about relationships, being in love.

Lando nods to himself, taking a deep breath. He was going to get up and ask her to dance and then as they danced, maybe he’d press a little closer, maybe not, and he’d ask her to go on a date with him.

He’s just about to get up when he notices someone enter the large room.

Max.

He shakes his head. He knew from overhearing Charles and Pierre that the older driver would be late, having to take his jet later than everyone else coming in due to some meeting or something, but he’d honestly figured it was just an excuse. He knew that Lily and Oscar had sent out the wedding invitations before August, but they hadn’t taken away his invite? Made an excuse about needing to give his seat to someone else?

Then again, Charles was here as well, and if it had been up to Lando he wouldn’t have gotten an invitation or it would have been rescinded after Monza, after Austin, after fucking Vegas.

His eyes go back to Y/N, the sight of her calming him down and he stands, ready to go ever to her when she stands as well. His heart thuds in his chest and he expects her to turn towards him, but she doesn’t. She’s moving, practically running and Lando’s fists clench as she throws her arms around Max’s neck, the other driver’s arm wrapping around her waist and squeezing tight.

The hug seems to go for hours before they finally stop, but even then, it’s just a small step away from the other. Her arms are still around Max’s neck, his hands now settled on her hips and it makes Lando burn. Max shouldn’t be touching her like that, shouldn’t be touching her at all.

Anger fills him as he watches her lean in and then their lips are brushing before Max moves a hand to her lower back, removing what little space there had been between them and fully kisses her.

He just had to take everything from him. From everyone. Max knew how much he wanted the championship, had to have known how much he wanted her, and he still took both from him because that’s all that Max does. Take and never even thinks of giving back.

—

“She never looks at my nails like that.” Pierre complains and she can’t help but laugh, her fingers wiggling a bit in Kika and Alex’s hold. “Paint them and maybe she will.” Pierre makes a face. “But the smell is so bad.” Charles tilts his head in confusion. “The smell?” “It’s a bit chemically. Too strong for some people.” “Ah.” Charles nods. “Like hair dye.” “Actually, exactly like hair dye.”

“Have you guys seen the photo of Charles’ as a blonde?” Her eyes widened at Alex’s words. “No.” Alex reaches for her phone, smiling at Charles when he presses a kiss to her hand before giving it to her. “Someone tagged me in it on TikTok, they did a wonderful job.” She tells them, scrolling before finally turning her phone and showing Pierre and Kika and then her.

Another laugh leaves her as she looks at it and Pierre and Kika join her, having been stifling their laughs.

“Oh, Charles.” “I know.” “Please never bleach your hair.” He shakes his head. “Never.” His fingers twirl a lock of Alex’s hair, tugging it lightly. “This one would murder me.” “Mate, your mother would murder you.” Pierre laughs. “Pascale would murder you and whoever sold you the bleach.” Kika murmurs, making them all laugh.

She’s about to ask how Pascale is, both of Pascales, but her attention is caught by someone entering the room and her eyes widen, a smile blooming across her face and she’s getting up and rushing over to him.

She throws herself at him, grinning at the laugh he gives as his arms wrap around her waist, squeezing her as she squeezes his neck.

“You made it.” She murmurs. “I made it. I nearly killed him but I made it.”

She takes a small step back, Max’s hands settling on her hips, giving them a squeeze and she can’t help but lean in. Lips brushing together before a hand is on her lower back pressing her closer and Max kisses her.

She nearly moans into it.

It had only been a few days, but those days had been long with them only exchanging a few texts as she wrapped herself up in making sure the wedding and reception were perfect while he tried to cram in as many meetings and things as possible so they could just be together for the last two and a half weeks of January.

“I never want to do that again.” Max murmurs when they break apart. She smiles, pecking his lips. “Me neither. And we won’t have to again. I’ll be around you twenty-four seven.” Her heart beats faster, excitement rushes through her as she’s reminded that they now fully live together, she’ll be going to every race this season, she’ll be with Max all the time. “Good. Now, let me congratulate my future brother-in-law.” She beams, kissing him again before they walk over to where Oscar and Lily are and as they do, she can’t help but think of how soon enough it will be Max and her getting congratulations on getting married.

[coolemmasulivan2]

Back on Track

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After a fight with Lando, you’re nowhere to be found when he leaves for Austin, making him fear the relationship is over. But when you arrive at the track with Max, he gets a second chance to make things right, and the two of you reconcile.

Word count: 2061

Even though we're going through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah

You and Lando rarely fought. You’d been together since his final season in Formula 2, a bloody long time, and you could count the big fights on one hand. But this one was different. This was the worst of them all.

It was his last day at home before flying to Austin, and somehow everything went down.

"You're being clingy!" He shouted, running a hand through his messy curls, frustration etched on his face.

You stared at him, stunned. "I’m being clingy? Me? Lando, we’ve been together for years, and I have never asked you for anything. The one time I do, and this is what you say? Wow."

"Yeah, well, you’ve never acted like this before!" His face hardened, eyes sparking with irritation you weren’t used to. "Seriously, if you suddenly want some boyfriend who’ll sit around every night, watching dumb TV shows and cuddling you to sleep, maybe you should find someone else."

You shook your head, disbelief morphing into something different, something more hurt. "Maybe I should do that!"

He was beyond pissed. "Then please, do! I'm going out and I'll do the same." He turned, grabbing his jacket without a second glance. and strode out, slamming the door shut behind him.

You flinched at the echo, the silence crashing down around you as tears started to well up. "I hate you, Lando Norris." You whispered into the emptiness of the apartment.

Lando sat in the VIP section of his favorite Monaco club, gazing blankly over the crowded dance floor. The music pulsed, people laughed and danced, but his thoughts were miles away, thinking of you.

Max leaned in, breaking Lando’s trance. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Lando shrugged. "Was it that bad?"

Lando sighed, his gaze distant. "It was! It was the worst fight we’ve ever had." He swallowed, the words bitter. "She probably thinks I’m cheating on her right now."

Max’s eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about? Why would she think that?"

"Because, I pretty much said that." Lando muttered lound enough for Max to hear over the music.

Max looked at him, incredulous. "Why the hell would you say that, you absolute idiot? You love her."

Lando exhaled heavily. "I was angry! I didn’t even think. I just… said it. I realized how bad it sounded the second I left."

Max shook his head, staring at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "Well, congratulations: you’re an idiot!"

"Thanks for the information."

It was late when Lando finally got home. The apartment was dark, and silence filled the rooms. He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, his mind caught between whether he should crash on the sofa or swallow his pride, apologize, and lie beside you.

He waked to the closed bedroom door, standing there for a long moment, nerves filling his body. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He stepped back and with the sting of guilt he fell down on the sofa.

You were deep asleep when a hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see your best friend sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes barely open, hair rumpled from sleep.

"What?"

She yawned, rubbing her eyes before looking at you. "Your phone won’t stop ringing."

Blinking, you glanced at the empty nightstand, remembering you’d left your phone in the living room. "What time is it?" You muttered. "It’s probably Lando. We were supposed to leave for Austin early."

She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head and laying down next to you. "Then answer it or turn it off. It’s too early for this, and I’m exhausted."

"She rejected my call!" Lando exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the apartment.

Max raised an eyebrow. "That’s good news."

"How is that good?"

"At least we know she’s okay." He said. "And still mad at you, which is probably deserved."

"I don’t even know if she was still here when I got home last night. The bedroom door was closed, and I just… crashed on the sofa. I only realized she was gone this morning."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "So, what’s the plan now?"

“I don’t know,” Lando groaned, slumping into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "The team’s going to kill me if I miss this flight."

"So go!" Max said firmly.

Lando looked up, shaking his head. "No way. I’m not leaving without her."

Max rolled his eyes. "Look, she knows you have to leave, Lando. Sooner or later, she’s coming back, and when she does, I’ll bring her to Austin myself. Just go."

"What if she refuses to go?"

"She loves you. She'll want t make things right. Trust me!"

Lando hesitated. "You promise?"

"I promise."

You slipped into the apartment two hours later, knowing Lando would be gone by now. The silence felt heavy as you shut the door, but before you could make it to the kitchen, Max appeared, stepping out from Lando’s streaming room.

You jumped, clutching your chest. "Max! What the hell? You scared me!"

"Sorry!" He said, raising his hands in apology.

"What are you doing here? Is Lando still here?" You glanced around, half expecting him to walk out from somewhere.

"He left. Had to, or he’d have missed his flight."

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long sip. "I thought you were going with him."

"I am. I was just waiting for you."

You looked at him, understanding dawning slowly. "Max, I don’t think going with you is a good idea." You sank into a chair at the small dining table, and Max sat across from you.

"That’s not true."

"Max, you don’t know how he treated me, the things he said…" You swallowed, voice shaking. "He told me I should find someone else. And said he would, too."

Max leaned forward, shaking his head. "Look, he was furious and stupid. Belive me, I know what he said, and he regrets every word. He didn’t even want to leave. I practically had to drag him onto the helicopter."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Max, I don't know."

"He’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot in love with you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, Y/N. He’s been calling you non-stop, hoping you’d pick up, and he’s completely torn up about it. So please, come with me. Let’s go to Austin."

Lando had been unusually quiet all day. Practice had gone well, but not well enough; the Ferraris were ahead, and so was Verstappen. His mind should’ve been on the upcoming sprint qualifying, but all he could think about was you and the fight. He could only hope that Max was somehow convincing you to come to Austin.

"Everything alright? You’ve been quiet, which is… not like you." Oscar asked, glancing over at Lando as they wrapped up filming a video for McLaren’s social media.

"Just tired." Lando muttered.

Oscar hesitated, then asked gently. "Where’s Y/N? Lily told me she was coming."

Lando’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking up to meet Oscar’s. "I… don’t think she’s coming." He admitted, his voice low. "I messed things up pretty badly."

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Want to talk about it?"

Lando shook his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Not really. Just… hoping I haven’t lost her." He said, more to himself than to Oscar.

Lando was suiting up, pulling on his gloves and securing his helmet, trying to lock his focus onto the upcoming sprint qualifying. But the knot of anxiety in his stomach hadn’t eased since he arrived, knowing he might have to go through this entire weekend without you there.

Just then, Max appeared in front of him, grinning. "Hey, mate. Just came by to wish you luck. And, by the way…" Max lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "She’s here."

"Fuck... thank you for bringing her."

There, standing quietly near the corner, arms crossed and headphones on, was you. You looked a little nervous, a shy expression on your face and when your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

A wave of relief fell over him, and he instinctively took a step forward, desperate to close the space between you. But Max put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Not now." Max warned. "You’ve got a sprint to think about. You can talk to her after."

"But—" Lando began, his eyes darting back to you, a urge to apologize.

A couple of mechanics also intercepted him, nudging him toward the car with hurried reminders. "We’re starting in a few, Lando."

Lando clenched his jaw, glancing back at you. Taking a deep breath, Lando slipped into the car, his heart beating a little steadier, his mind clearing. For the first time all day, he felt ready. You were here and that was everything.

You watched the qualifying from the garage, heart pounding with every lap. It was always like this: nerve-wracking, pride and fear as you watched him push himself and the car to the limit. But today, your chest felt even tighter, knowing the tension lingering between you.

When the session ended, Lando finished fourth. Relief mixed with a bit of pride washed over you as you clapped, your gaze fixed on him as he came into the garage.

The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. He strode over and without a word, he reached for your hand, gently but firmly, and led you out of the garage toward his driver’s room, ignoring the curious glances around you.

Once inside, he closed the door. "Y/N… Babe, I’m so sorry."

You looked down, your arms wrapping around yourself. "You hurt me, Lando. You didn’t just walk away, you made me feel like I was… too much."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand again. "I was an idiot. I don’t even know why I said those things. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. None of it was true. You’re not ‘too much.’ You’re… everything to me."

"I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. "That could never be true. I can’t imagine any of this, my life, racing, anything, without you." He brushed a stray tear from your cheek. "I was terrified you wouldn’t come. That I’d ruined everything."

You took a shaky breath. "Max convinced me… told me you didn’t want to leave, that you were just… scared of losing me."

"More than you know." He said, his hand holding yours firmly. "Please forgive me, Y/N. I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you."

"I don't want you to give up anything, Lando."

"I know. I know. That's not what you asked me."

After a long moment, you squeezed his hand. "I’m here now." You said softly. "Let’s just start with that."

Relief flooded his face as he wrapped you in his arms, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go. "I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t want to mess this up ever again."

You gave him a gentle smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I didn’t come all this way to hold onto what happened. Let’s just… move forward. Together."

He smiled. "Together."

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. "Lando?" A team member called from the hallway. "They need you back in the garage in five!"

Lando glanced back toward the door, then returned his gaze to you, clearly torn. "Go!" You murmured. "I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m not going anywhere."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. You melted into it, letting the last of the hurt dissolve in his warmth.

When he pulled back, he looked at you with a smile . "I’ll be quick." He said, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting it go and heading toward the door. Just as he opened it, he paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered.

[cas-spirit]

Give me more platonic affection.

Give me omega timeline residents approaching Asgores because they give the best hugs.

Give me Ink, learning about physical affection by observing people, having Blue explain the different ways people hold hands. Him tackling Top and Aster to the ground trying to figure out how hugs go.

Give me Dream who only cries when someone’s hugging him because it’s the only time he feels shielded enough to break.

Give me Nightmare and Error, who after years of working together, finally end their deals with a handshake.

Give me Blueberror who’s off button is any kind of physical affection.

Give me Core Frisk, still a child, clinging to people’s hands, holding a larger hand in both of theirs.

Givr me Nightmare falling asleep on a movie night and the rest of the gang can’t move because his tendrils lay on top of them like sleeping cats.

Give me Blue forcing his two semi-immortal friends into cuddle piles so they actually sleep for once.

Give me Fresh showing trust by letting people hold his head, so close to the eyesockets that hold his true form.

Give me Error and Geno readjusting to touch after the emptiness of their containments, telling the other that they’re there by knocking knees.

Give me Frisks in the omega timeline offering a shoulder to lean on for Charas, or anyone who asks.

Give me Underfell where the skelebros curl up around eachother to watch the other’s back, even in sleep.

Give me Outertales where handholding is common to make sure no one floats off into space.

Give me Gasters who use their many hands to give head pats to their sons/coworkers (Sans, Papyrus, and Alphys) as well as doing science work stuff.

Give me Nightmare who curls his tendrils on top of his subordinate’s heads like a strange pat on the back.

Give me Horror who will simply pick his teammates up and hold them like the wet cats they are.

Give me Cross who’s so unused to any physical affection he freezes up, and Killer using this to his advantage by grabbing his hand to distract him from the cow nearby or to get him to stop training for a bit.

Give me Nightmare laying a tendril over Dream’s shoulder to remind himself that his twin is there, and they aren’t fighting anymore.

Give me Dusts that will curl up on top of people like a cat.

Give me Inks who give surprise hugs to his friends.

Give me Errors who wrap his strings around people to give them hugs.

Give me Horror Papyrus becoming the center of hug piles in Nightmare’s gang because the boys miss their brothers a lot, and he’s the closest they’ll get with the gang’s reputation.

Give me Killer, just met Nightmare, and the baby goop clings to him while they explore the multiverse.

Give me Ink and Error pulling eachother along by the scarfs.

Give me Dancetale where duo dances end with a hug (or high five if too sweaty for a hug)

Give me Fell Papyrus holding Fell Sans’s hand out and about, using the excuse of making sure Sans doesn’t wander off when asked.

Give me post-truce spontaneous skeleton cuddle piles.

Give me Killer randomly tackling his teammates.

Give me Ink being so physically affectionate people think he’s flirting (he’s not).

Give me Papyrus calling Sans a cat while he curls up on his shoulder.

Give me Sans holding Geno’s hand carefully when things get a bit too much after his time of the Save Screen.

Give me careful fingers tracing the edges of Papyrus’s rarely-seen hands.

Give me Dust trying, and failing, to touch his Papyrus.

Give me Passive Nightmare’s ghost curling up around Dream’s shoulders like a purple boa, hugging him around the neck when things get rough.

Give me the gang curling up on Nightmare’s tendrils when he’s not paying attention.

Give me Dream learning about the different meanings behind touch after he breaks out of stone.

Give me Gaster’s who are almost too scared to embrace Sans and Papyrus incase getting out of the void was a dream, and Papyrus accidentally sending him to the floor with his enthusiastic hug.

Give me Undyines randomly carrying their Alphys around.

Give me Frisks who press their forehead onto people (Sans’s back, Papyrus’s thigh, Toriel and Asgore’s arm, Alphy’s side, Undyne hip) and lean on them.

Give me Frisks who randomly lean on people, almost falling over because Chara is a ghost and incapable of being my leaned on.

Give me Dust laying his head on Killer’s lap when Killer gets twitchy, because what’s he gonna do, move Dust?

Give me Error who’s glitching feels kinda like a massage, holding his hands to Nightmare’s back, Horror’s skull, or Geno’s wherever when they get pain.

Give me Ink who uses hand holding like a recalibration test after he goes blank.

Give me hand holding and head pats and hugs and cuddle piles.

Givemegivemegivemegivemegivemegiveme

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤTHREE !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART TWO. half - past five !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMINORS DNI!! includes, fictional locations. fictional bandmates. weed mentions ( brief ). semi-public fingering. finger sucking. praise if u squint & minor degradation if u don't. jensen is wearing rings (that's it that's the whole warning and it's necessary). reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 3.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. me calling it a slowburn vs them getting raunchy in chap 3 i am A LIARRRR. I STILL SAY IT'S A SLOWBURN ... IT'S NOT ALL SUNSHINE N RAINBOWS ... also what did i say huh. parts wld get longer! almost double last one! i got carried away aftercare!jensen is jus really sexy ok leave me alone.

mirrored glass shakes against the dance studio’s walls, making your reflection warble along with it. one of the mirrors is significantly looser where it’s pressed to the wall, and you just wait for it to fall, because it wants to, doesn’t it? why doesn’t it just give in? 

there’s some pent up frustration in you. clearly. the person —  well, the main one contributing to the literal and metaphorical walls in your life starting to crumble — responsible is just thirty or so steps away. and, of course you’d know that exactly, wouldn’t you? 

you’ve been pacing since you showed up. first outside of the building, when you saw the sunset blvd sign hung up and alight in one of the dingy windows of the venue. it was like a physical sign, really, that jensen was there to stay. much to your chagrin. 

even the instructor at the studio, lindsey, had something to say about your fidgeting. you’d gotten out of class early that day, and what better way to relieve your stress than to go over routines you knew in your sleep? 

except you couldn’t. at least one step in every song you tried to practice, you stumbled on, and with each song you tried again and again, you messed up more, like giving the thought of your failures any attention was exactly what they wanted to burrow in your bones. 

that’s when lindsey, who’d been cleaning off the mirrors in preparation for her upcoming class, said something. “laurel hit you with a hard routine?” 

“no,” you snap without meaning to, guilt washing itself over you the moment the words leave your mouth. she was innocent in your little problems. “just— thinking too much.” 

“i’d argue that the point of dancing is to stop you from thinking.” 

and she was so right that you could have cried. it was infuriating, knowing your problems and what was causing them, and being completely incapable of doing something to stop them. 

you didn’t answer her; nothing productive would come from this conversation when you were too in your head to see outside of your thick skull. instead, you snatched up your phone and clicked play on the sleeping beauty track you’d been working on. 

“why are the mirrors so loose?” lindsey asked, then, incredulity laced in her words, and that was what started your pacing. 

you’d take fifteen of the thirty seven steps from the inside of destiny dance to sunset blvd, and turn back. rinse, repeat. sometimes more than fifteen. most times less. it was so stupid, wanting to pick this fight, knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

but you were at your wit’s end. and maybe, just maybe, you’d started to miss those piercing green eyes that watched you from outside of the venue next door while you practiced. 

masochism is a hell of a thing. 

you don’t even know what caused the breaking point to hit you, but it did, probably an hour into your relentless back and forth with yourself. and suddenly, you were pushing open the glass doors to sunset blvd.

for once, it’s dead silent. but you know that they’re all here, all four members of whatever-the-hell band, whatever-the-hell their names were. the parking lot had four cars in it.

it’s easier like this — empty stage, empty seats — to stomp your aggravated little ass up to the side of the stage. there’s a couple of steep steps leading up to the stage, and your steps echo on the hollow wood of each. 

your hand closes around the tall, dusty curtain leading backstage, when someone else shoves it back fiercely with all of the confidence of someone who thinks they’re alone. 

you jump, but the person screams. a high, piercing scream that echoes around the ( admittedly pretty good ) acoustics of the room.

it’s a guy — lanky and tall with long hair to his shoulders. he holds a hand over his chest, knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping onto the ripped band t-shirt he wears. metallica. at least you’d heard of that one. 

“jesus christ,” he wheezes out, and you can’t help the way your eyes drop to the blunt in his fingers at his side. surely smoking weed wasn’t good for him. 

you keep that to yourself, though. you did just scare the life out of him, after all. “where is everyone?” 

he blinks a couple of times, and you visibly watch his eyes focus on your face. recognition flares in his deep brown eyes. “our local little dancer, here to grace us again.” 

you roll your eyes. “i have a name—” 

“yeah, yeah, but you never asked for mine, so i’m sure as shit not asking for yours.” he raises the blunt to his parted lips, sucking in a deep inhale. he says, around the exhale of smoke he releases, “reggie, by the way.” 

oh. this was reggie. the little pissant that tried to blow your eardrums when you first showed up here. last time you saw him, you didn’t pay much attention to him. 

you still weren’t going to, unfortunately for him and the way his mouth opens to keep talking to you. 

“guess we’re even.”

reggie grimaces and at least has the decency to look apologetic. you take a step forward to pull the curtain back again and step backstage when he speaks again.

“noa’s in the ladies room. steven’s in the men’s, with—” 

jensen. god, what the hell was wrong with you? there was no reason for your heart to stutter at the sheer thought of him. 

this was your problem, after all — the one buried beneath the ones that you tried to claim as your problems instead: you wanted to see him. he hadn’t been outside consistently, not even when you were leaving. there were a couple of days in that week where you didn’t see him, only knew he was there at all by the number of cars in the back parking lot. 

you say a quick thank you before you finally do step underneath the lifted edge of the heavy curtain, a puff of dust clouding in your lungs the moment you let go of it. 

you break into a ticklish cough as it coats your tongue and the inside of your mouth, too focused on trying to catch your breath again to pay attention to where you’re walking. 

“what, you take a hit of reggie’s blunt but not mine?” he says, his voice still as deep as you remember, smile just as chastising. “didn’t know you were into scrawny guys. never stood a chance, did i?” 

then, and only then, do you manage to shoot a glare up at him. and of course, jensen is smirking, dimples embedded in his cheeks, eyes practically glimmering with the taunt. 

no— they were really glimmering. the green was so much more pronounced today, with the whites of his eyes stained pink. oh, hell. 

“it’s dust.” 

jensen whistles lowly under his breath, leaning back in a mock gesture of surrender, before he settles back fully on his feet. “yyyeeah, reggie’s shit is shit.” 

“no—” your face flushes, both with a twinge of embarrassment and irritation. “i mean, it’s literally— like, it’s literally dust. this place is covered in dust.” 

jensen laughs, loudly and heartily, and it makes your toes curl in your pointe shoes. you really were a wreck; reduced to rubble by this man whose sole purpose, it seemed, was to get on your last nerves.

“s’what happens in abandoned places, princess,” he says slowly and drawn out, like he was talking to a toddler. you bristle at it, nose twitching, and that only makes him laugh a bit harder. “oh, come on. thought we were friends now.” 

your mouth closes, then opens, and closes all over again. friends. you certainly weren’t aware of when that happened, especially since— 

“you haven’t been outside in three days.” god, could your voice sound any smaller? your face flames with embarrassment, not having wanted that to be the thing you say to him in response, but what could you do now? 

jensen’s smile softens. softens! as if you could feel any less mortified. “my pretty princess is missing me, is she?” 

“oh, go to—” 

“hell?” he finishes, eyebrows shooting up as the word leaves his mouth. “only if you come on down with me.” 

you can’t even bristle again before he’s crowding your space. one step forward from him, and two steps back from you. it’s not a very wide hallway, though, and before you knew it, you were trapped.

trapped in the cage of his strong arms, back to the brick wall. this close, you can see the swirls of ink adorning his skin, black wisps of fire and symbols that you don’t know. his hands come up to properly cage you in; palms flat on the wall by your head. 

“you want to, don’t you?” he murmurs, his gaze dropped to your lips. everywhere his eyes land, your skin burns. he’s fire, and you’re ice, and you’re completely molten, melted at his feet. “c’mon, princess,” he says just as softly, “tell me what you want.” 

the words to leave are right there on your tongue. they’re right there, heavy and palpable, and yet they don’t leave the confines of your closed lips. 

jensen’s smile widens, becoming more devilish than sweet. his breath reeks of alcohol and weed this close, but there’s the faintest underlining of mint. your senses are turned up too high to handle this properly — and he can tell. “oh, i see,” his voice is so deep and rough that it makes your skin tremble, “my pretty girl wants me to show her, does she?” 

no, you try to say, but it’s stuck just like the rest of your protests, right there behind your teeth. if only you had the strength to lift your arms and tug your jaw open, to force the words out, because suddenly your head is nodding. 

“good girl,” he says, and one of his hands slips from the wall to your chin, index and thumb holding it between his fingers as he tilts it up to meet your eyes. “but i’m sure you’re used to hearing that, aren’t you?” 

his voice is soft and rough at once, like he’s sharing painful secrets right in her ear. his tone, though, is full of a venom that you don’t want to think about. shame is already so thick on your skin that it feels like paint; the last thing you want is to let his chastising words get to you just as much as your desire for him. 

“pretty,” jensen continues as his hand slips lower, running over the thin fabric of your leotard. it’s innocent at first, the backs of his fingers running down your shoulder. still, it lights you up as if he’d just kissed you. “good. innocent.” 

his hand slips further down, his ring-adorned knuckles tracing over your breasts. they peak beneath that little brush of a touch, nipples aching against the skin-tight of the leotard. 

“i was sure that even good girls get tired of being good,” he mumbles, his face inching closer to yours, nose to nose. “but then i met you, and you just can’t help it, can you? that incessant need to be good?”

jensen’s head drops into the crook of your neck, his facial hair on your sensitive skin making your breath hitch. his laugh is breathless in your ear, against your shoulder, as he presses his lips on the space above your collarbone. 

and his hand keeps moving. it outlines a straight line down the center of your breasts, down your sternum, and stops just below your navel. 

“or maybe…” he trails off, his other hand dropping from the wall and grasping at your skirt, tugging it up in one quick movement. it draws a shuddering gasp from your parted, dry lips, another thing that makes him chuckle. “maybe you do it because you like it. is that it, princess?” 

you can’t even bring yourself to answer him. your skin feels hot and alive, like electricity dances through your veins. livewires sparking beneath the surface of your skin. 

your hands, though, reach for the leather flaps of the jacket on his shoulders. you need something to touch to keep you from slipping too far into the abyss of this. 

his fingertips brush across the thin strap of fabric covering your throbbing, sensitive pussy, the heat in your lower stomach burning and crackling and tight. you can feel the edges of his fingertips grazing the edge of the inseam of the leotard. “yeah, i thought that was it,” he rasps, another of those breathless laughs pressing into your collarbone, “of course the good girl likes to be told she’s a good girl.” 

one of his hands still holds the edge of your skirt up, and the other sweeps the thin fabric away, letting cool air dance across your exposed, slick cunt. 

your mouth finally finds the words it wants to say, and they stumble out in a quick succession, an unintelligible sentence. “jensen— there… people—” 

“reg is off his ass,” he mutters, his mouth still grazing and nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbone, “steven’s in the fuckin’ bathroom doin’ lines still, and noa’s probably in the bathroom doin’ him.” 

his eyes flick up to meet yours, the green now just a thin ring around the deep intensity of his pupils. “no people around, pretty princess,” he assures, his lips curling into that teasing smile of his — though now, it’s much softer. 

you barely get a chance to acknowledge any of his words before his calloused thumb slips between the slick folds of your pussy. you stutter out a gasp as the electricity of his touch travels your lower stomach and up, up, up, sending your heartrate fluttering quicker.

jensen massages the sensitive, swollen nub of your clit, his eyes locked onto yours, gauging your reaction to his painstakingly slow circles. his teeth hold his bottom lip captive between them. somehow, his eyes look even more blown now that your gazes are locked. 

you try, you do, and it’s an honorable effort, to keep any sound from slipping out of your lips in response to the tantalizing grazes of his hand between your legs. but a muffled whimper starts low in your throat and shudders out, and it’s enough to encourage him to keep going. 

“little louder, baby, i can’t hear you,” he whispers with his nose pressed against yours. he uncurls his fingers, letting you feel every brush of his fingertips as they drag across the expanse of your spread pussy. “i know it feels good, baby, can feel how fucking wet you are.” 

it’s cruel, the way he can touch you like this and say such things about it, while you’re completely spread out for him and at his mercy. “fuck you,” you seethe through your teeth, though it holds none of the malice you wish it did — instead coming out like a whimpering whine. 

“uh uh, not yet,” he laughs breathlessly across your face, and his long middle finger stops at the dip of your entrance, traces the wetness dripping from it, smears it further up your spread pussy. “you’re not ready for that yet, pretty girl. and i wanna make you feel good. don’t you want it to feel good? when you do get to have me?” 

he talks to you like you’re something innocent, something he’s more than happy to break and ruin. chastising and seductive all in the same breath. jensen doesn’t even give you the time to answer before he pushes that same finger inside of you. 

he’s wearing a ring. you didn’t even see the ring when you were talking to him — admittedly, you were only looking at his swollen lips, darkened eyes, sweaty hair hanging just below his ears. but you felt it now; his already thick finger stretches you out, and the ring adds to it the moment he’s deep enough inside of you. 

it’s a shockwave of pleasure all at once. you don’t even try to stifle the moan this time, your head falling forward to knock against his. “there she is,” he praises, his voice much deeper and raspier than it was moments before. “i knew you had it in you.” 

that’s when he starts to move. it’s still only that one finger pushed to the hilt of his hand inside of you, but the ring scrapes the edges of your walls with every thrust he pushes it into you. the pace is slow, deep, like he was making love to you with nothing but his hand. 

of course he wasn’t, though. jensen didn’t seem like the type to make love, and the point is proven when his fingers curl, and stars erupt in your vision. 

“god,” you choke on the word, gasping and panting on his face, your breaths mingling with how close you are. 

jensen grins. he’s always fucking grinning, like he knows exactly the effect he has on the people he touches. “mmm, close, but not my name.” 

“go — to hell.” 

he pumps his finger in and out of your soaked pussy, so hard that the sound of each wet movement punctuates each moan you loosen. “told you already,” he grunts, pulling his ringed finger out of you just enough to where you can only feel the tip of it teasing your stretched entrance. “not without you.” 

there’s never any warning with him, never any indication of what he’s going to do before he’s already knuckles deep into it. and he adds a second finger, another ring adorning it, and pumps the both of his fingers deep into your pussy. 

it’s too much all at once. the feeling of his fingers curling inside of you like quotation marks to each of his thrusts, the fact that there were three people scattered around the rest of the small building, potentially seconds from walking out into the hall and seeing the debauchery he was inflicting on you— 

you hook your leg up and curl it around his waist, giving him a better angle to keep fingerfucking you, and for you to be able to take him deeper, harder, faster—

the invitation isn’t lost on jensen, either. the hand that’d been holding your skirt up releases it and hooks under your thigh to keep it held there. “look at you,” he grunts between his clenched teeth, “bein’ so fucking good for me.” 

your throat feels raw from the effort of trying to keep your voice down, trying to keep every single noise clamped behind the barriers of your tight lips. and it’s too much. and you can’t even really think straight, not with the cool metal rings so tantalizing on your inner walls, with his thick fingers so deep you can feel the tips teasing your cervix. 

your lips part on a shuddering moan, finally uncaging the desperate, guttural sounds that’d been building since he started to touch you. the tightness in your lower stomach coils, tighter and tighter; a snake capturing its prey, a girl clenching tightly around the fingers that thrust into her. 

for once, jensen is dead silent, and you really wish he’d talk, even if it was just to continue teasing you, because all you can hear in this hallway is the gushing sound of his fingers in you and your crescendoing moans, and—

your head falls back against the brick wall behind it, the thud hardly registering in your mind as your leg tightens around his waist, as his fingers keep up there relentless pace, as you pulse around his knuckles and against his palm in tune to your heartbeat.

it’s overwhelming, how fast you fall apart right there in his hands. “fuck— jensen—” your body goes still and taut for a second before it goes completely boneless, your face burying in the smoky smelling leather of his jacket. even as your pussy throbs around him, even as you’re still so sensitive that your body is practically trembling, he doesn’t relent. 

not for another ten or so seconds. and you do count, because it starts to feel like a punishment instead of for pleasure, even as you grind your hips down to take him deeper. 

his fingers slip out of you, wet and glistening with your juices. his eyes are somehow more glazed than they were, still rimmed red and glimmery. “open up, princess,” he rasps, the smile on his face more lazy than the smirk he wore earlier. 

who are you to deny him anything right now? you barely know your name, your legs numb, your heart racing from the comedown. 

“good girl,” he praises lowly once your lips pop open again. jensen pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, pushing down on your tongue to push your mouth open wider. 

tasting yourself around the salty smoke flavor of his fingers is almost enough to make your legs buckle. his eyes watch you intently, glancing between your eyes and your mouth. 

and maybe you are sick of being good. maybe he was right all along, with every word you deemed chastising and prodding. it only takes a blink for you to close your lips around his fingers and swirl your tongue around them in your mouth, around the rings. 

“goddamn,” he chuckles, breathless and exhaling. “maybe you are more fun than you let on.” 

you didn’t know, then, that this was the worst possible thing either of you could do. because now, you knew he’d let you in when you came around, and now he knew how easy you were to break.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus, @fitxgrld !

[motherismotheringggg]

rhythm & heat

summary: you and nicholas are co-stars in a fun and innocent PR relationship, the chemistry was already there so it just feels natural but something shifts when you, him and cast go out.

type: fem! reader x nicholas (i tried add some of Nicholas’ POV per my friend’s suggestion, it’ll be in red to stand out)

tags/warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex (wrap your willy yall) and creampie

author’s note: i’m having sooooo much fun writing again so thanks to everyone who’s been encouraging me to do it. i used to write in college and now that im 27 (almost 28 in january) it’s good to get back into it. i wanted to do something while im working on slow burn pt. 3 so i hope yall like it!!!!

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

The bass pulsed through the club, sending ripples of heat and sound through the packed dance floor. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an electric glow over the scene as bodies moved in sync with the music. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made everyone buzz with energy, like something wild could happen at any moment.

You and your co-star, Nicholas Chavez, were out celebrating the wrap of the second season—a well-deserved break after months of filming. The first season had been a hit, with fans and critics alike praising your performances and the chemistry you brought to your characters. And of course, that chemistry hadn’t gone unnoticed. Rumors about the two of you had been swirling since the first season, with fans speculating about what might be going on off-camera.

And they weren’t completely off. Your and Nicholas’s teams had decided that hinting at a romance would be the perfect, harmless way to build buzz for the next season. You weren’t usually one for gimmicks, but you both thought it’d be fun, and honestly, with the chemistry you two shared on screen, the idea didn’t feel far-fetched. Playing at “dating” off-screen just felt natural.

There were moments on set where the boundary between acting and reality seemed to blur. In one particularly intense scene, you and Nicholas’s character finished having sex and his hands roamed in a way that made sense for the character but caught you off guard, you leaned in to commit to the scene but you remember leaving the set that day with your heart fluttering.

Off set, at interviews and press events, the playful banter you shared made the rumors almost impossible to deny. During one red carpet appearance, when a reporter asked what Nicholas liked best about working with you, he leaned close and, in a low voice, said, “She makes me forget we’re acting.” The reporters loved it, and you could feel your cheeks warm under the spotlight.

Even your off-duty moments seemed to fuel the rumors. You remembered the night you and Nicholas went to see Sabrina Carpenter in concert and to avoid the crowds, you were escorted through hidden elevators in the arena. One of the elevators was especially small, so when you were pushed inside with security guards and crew, space was tight. Somehow, you ended up in the back corner, pressed chest to chest with Nicholas, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer.

When you joked about it later, he laughed, claiming he was just “making room” for everyone. But you couldn’t ignore the way his hand lingered at your waist during the two-minute ride—or how, when you shifted to get more comfortable, you felt his hardness through his jeans.

There were countless other moments and with another press run coming up, it just felt like you were still both “in character” all the time but for tonight, you just wanted to dance, let loose, and get ready for another thrilling media cycle. You, Nicholas and a few costars decided to go out to a boiler room club in the city. None of you had planned on playing into the rumors tonight, but as the crowd grew, Nicholas slipped into “boyfriend” mode without a second thought. His hand found your waist, guiding you through the crowd; he held your hand, lingered close, and let his touches drift to intimate places whenever you danced or laughed together.

The night felt electric. Drinks flowed freely, adding a warm edge to the pulsing bass that reverberated through the walls and floor. Your group had claimed a private section overlooking the dance floor, with a perfect view of the swirling neon lights below. Fans would catch glimpses of you and the cast, looking up with wide smiles, waving, and cheering to show their love. Some even made heart shapes with their hands or mouthed “We love you” as they danced. Every now and then, Nicholas would slide his arm around your waist, pulling you close for a quick fan photo or to lean in as he spoke over the music, his breath grazing your ear.

Nicholas could hardly keep his eyes off you. Even in the chaos of the club, you stood out—like a spark in the dark, drawing him in. The energy around you, the way you moved, the way you threw back your head to laugh at something your friend said… it made his chest feel tight. He’d been watching you for a while now, unable to shake the feeling that tonight was different.

At first, it was all casual, harmless fun. But as the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, you couldn’t help but notice a shift. Nicholas’s touches lingered a little longer, his fingers resting at your waist even when the picture was done or the conversation had shifted. The way he looked at you changed too—his gaze softened, his words slower, and his attention focused entirely on you, despite the crowd around you both.

When the group began to dance, he stayed close, his hand brushing yours, fingers grazing along your arm, almost as if testing the waters. As the music thumped, he moved nearer, his chest pressing lightly against your back, his hand slipping down to rest at your hip. Every touch, every shared laugh, felt charged, and you could feel the tension building in each small gesture. You’d been close to him before, but this was different—the alcohol, the music, the night itself seemed to bring out something more raw.

His thoughts became a blur of want, fueled by the subtle way your lips parted as you looked up at him. The pull was irresistible, drawing him closer as he traced his fingers along the small of your back, letting his thumb graze your hip in a possessive but tender gesture. He was intoxicated, not just by the alcohol but by you, by the way you felt so effortlessly right in his arms.

As you danced, his heartbeat quickened, his breaths shallow and erratic. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him—how just being close to you made it feel impossible to think straight. Every touch, every whisper, was like fuel to a fire that had been smoldering since the moment he’d met you. He couldn't ignore it any longer, the way you’d somehow slipped beneath his skin. He wanted all of you—the quick wit, the mischievous grin, the soft vulnerability he saw in your eyes in quieter moments on set. And tonight, he wanted you in a way that left no room for pretense or careful boundaries.

You two were dancing face to face, the music vibrating through your chest as you moved in sync. Nicholas leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a jolt of heat through your body. His voice was low and smooth, a touch playful, as he whispered, “How’s my girl feeling tonight?”

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you in closer, pressing your bodies together as if there was any space left between you two. You could feel the solid muscle of his chest against yours, the strength in his arms as they wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment. The heat of his touch lingered where his fingers gently grazed the curve of your waist, sending a wave of electricity through your skin.

You were attracted to Nicholas, no doubt about it. Up close, he was all intense, striking features that seemed made for this low, pulsing light. His deep-set brown eyes held a mischievous spark, the kind that always kept you guessing and a little on edge, even when the cameras weren’t rolling. His jawline was sharp, almost sculpted, and as he looked down at you, the soft stubble along it caught the neon glow, adding an edge to his otherwise boyish charm.

As you looked up, his tousled dark hair fell a bit across his forehead, framing his face in a way that softened his piercing gaze. His lips, full and inviting, curled into a subtle smirk as he looked at you, as though he knew exactly what kind of effect he had. You felt his fingers shift at your waist, his thumb tracing small, almost hypnotic circles against your hip, bringing a flush to your skin.

Despite the undeniable attraction, you hesitated to lean into whatever Nicholas was offering. Playing “relationship” was fun, but you knew getting involved with a co-star was a risky move. You flashed him a playful smirk, your voice teasing as you responded, “Your co-star is doing fine.” You took a small step back, creating just enough space to break the intensity between you two. But it wasn’t enough to stop the flirtation—you secretly hoped he’d pull you right back in.

He wasn’t having any of it. “Stop playing with me,” Nicholas groaned, his voice taking on that low, almost dangerous tone you couldn’t ignore. He leaned back down, his face just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You know I want you.”

His words sent a thrill coursing through you, the heat of his breath making your pulse race. Despite the hesitation, you could feel your body betraying you, urging you to close the space between you two again. His head lingered by your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, just barely a touch, sending a spark through you. Before you could pull back, his lips grazed the sensitive spot near your neck, planting soft, lingering “innocent” kisses.

The kisses were feather-light, almost teasing, yet each one felt like a jolt of electricity. They were gentle but purposeful, just enough to make your knees weaken and your womanhood tremble. His closeness, the warmth of his skin against yours, was intoxicating, and with every soft kiss, you found yourself craving more.

With a few sharp breaths and low moans, he knew he had you. The sound of his name on your lips, barely above a whisper, was all the confirmation he needed. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your neck, giving him full access to your skin. His hands, on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against yours.

He didn’t hold back. His lips moved with confidence now, kissing the delicate curve of your neck with more urgency. Each kiss was deeper and more insistent, the pressure of his mouth leaving a trail of heat and need in its wake. His tongue darted out, tracing the sensitive skin beneath your ear, sending a shiver of desire straight through your body.

You could feel him smiling against your skin, sensing the way your body responded to his touch—how you instinctively leaned into him, drawn to the heat between you. His hands, bold and sure, roamed lower, the pads of his fingers grazing the curve of your back, sending a shiver of pleasure through you. The sensation was soft at first but quickly turned more intense, his touch growing bolder, more confident with each passing second. Every moment between you two felt like a slow burn, the anticipation building as his lips trailed over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Then, when he shifted, you felt it—his hardness brushing against your thigh. The contact sent a wave of heat straight through you, an electric shock that heightened every nerve in your body. It was enough to make your pulse race, enough to make you realize how much you wanted him in that moment.

Without thinking, you reached down, your fingers gently grazing over the fabric of his pants, feeling the outline of him. The pressure of his body against yours, the growing heat between you two, made you want more—made you want to make him feel just as desperate for you as you felt for him.

You could feel the quickening of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell against yours. A low groan rumbled from his throat as you continued to trace his length, every brush of your fingers sending a thrill through both of you. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer, as though he couldn’t get enough of you either.

Without another moment passing, Nicholas grabbed your hand, his fingers tight around yours, pulling you through the crowded space. He moved with purpose, guiding you down the secret hallway the cast used to get into the club, away from the prying eyes and flashing lights. Each step seemed to quicken the pulse between you, the anticipation building with every turn. You felt his grip firm on your hand, but also the heat radiating off him, as though he couldn't wait any longer.

With just a few more steps, you found yourselves in the private dead-end hallway. It was dim, secluded—perfectly private. Before you could process what was happening, Nicholas had you pressed up against the cold wall, his body pinning you in place. The urgency in his movements left no room for hesitation as he slammed his lips onto yours, the kiss fierce, demanding. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, lips moving against each other as if he couldn’t get enough.

His hands weren’t idle either. One moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as if to keep you exactly where he wanted you, while the other traveled lower, finding its way to the waistband of your panties. His touch was deliberate and heated, and in an instant, his hand slipped beneath the fabric. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin just above them, the contact sending a shock of heat straight through you.

You gasped into his mouth, the electricity of his touch overwhelming, making every part of you ache for more. His fingers continued to tease, moving with slow, deliberate pressure, testing the limits of your restraint. He continued to rub and massage your sweet spot while you moaned and squirmed against his kiss. He pulled away just enough to watch you under his power.

From his vantage, you were a vision—utterly captivating in every response. He loved the way your eyes fluttered closed, only to open halfway, trying to find his gaze but faltering under the intense pleasure he was giving you. The way your teeth sank into your lip, trying to hold back the sounds you couldn’t suppress, only spurred him on. Each flick of his fingers brought a fresh wave of moans and whines, soft and breathy, laced with his name in barely-contained pleas. Hearing you beg him to take things further, to lose himself with you completely, made him feel invincible. He knew he had you right where he wanted, and he was savoring every moment.

You planted one last, deep kiss on his lips before sinking to your knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Nicholas’ gaze darkened, his breath catching slightly as he watched you with a mixture of anticipation and hunger. Your hands moved with urgency, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, your fingers grazing over the heat radiating from his body. As you freed him, he let out a soft groan, his gaze fixed on you, filled with both awe and impatience.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, tangling in it gently as you looked up at him, the connection between you electric and unspoken. The way he was watching you—intense, with a mix of excitement and restraint—made your pulse race. His pupils were dilated, his breathing uneven, and you could see the anticipation building in his expression as he waited, every part of him attuned to your next move.

As you leaned closer, he tightened his grip, his fingers brushing against your scalp, guiding you but letting you set the pace. You started slow, savoring every moment, every reaction, feeling his muscles tense and hearing his breaths turn to low, needy moans. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought to keep control, his head tilting back slightly as he surrendered to your touch, murmuring your name in a rough, breathy tone that only made you want him more.

Every time you paused to swirl your tongue around his tip, Nicholas' whole body tensed, his breathing turning shallow as he let out a low, drawn-out hiss. The sound of your name on his lips, mixed with whispered curses, filled the air. He couldn’t help himself, alternating between breathless moans and deep, husky praises. “God, you’re such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw, admiring intensity. “You look so beautiful taking me like this.”

With each word, his grip in your hair tightened just enough to keep you where he wanted. His hands were steady, yet you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers as his need for you grew. Finally, he held your head in both hands, his gaze locked on yours, guiding you with a slow, deliberate motion. He pushed himself deeper, filling your mouth as his hips rocked in rhythm, pressing him to the back of your throat. The sounds escaping him were desperate yet controlled, each ragged breath carrying his satisfaction.

“Look at me, baby,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a breathy, gruff murmur, thick with desire. “Let me see those pretty eyes.” His gaze was commanding yet filled with an undeniable admiration, and as you met his eyes, he let out a deep, shuddering breath, fully captivated by the sight of you. The connection between you was intense, wordlessly conveying his appreciation for everything you were giving him, every shiver and sigh pulling him closer to the edge.

Your throat tightened slightly as you tried to take all of him, a small gag escaping despite your best efforts. Nicholas chuckled softly, a low, satisfied sound, and his hand moved to gently tap your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a subtle affection that made your heart race. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, pride evident in his tone.

His hands slid down to your shoulders, pulling you up to meet him, and the moment your lips touched, he captured you in a deep, consuming kiss. It was passionate, full of hunger and appreciation, and he groaned against your mouth, relishing in the taste of you. He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes filled with a soft, smoldering intensity. “You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender. “You looked so perfect, taking me in… just like I always knew you could.”

Each word sent a wave of warmth through you, and his hands stayed on your hips, grounding you, his gaze never straying from yours. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, still swollen from your efforts, his gaze filled with both desire and genuine admiration as he traced your features, savoring every moment and every breath shared between you.

Nicholas could feel the anticipation radiating off you, your body responding to his every touch and move. He knew just how much you wanted him, and he wanted to give you everything you craved. With deliberate slowness, he turned you around, pressing you gently forward. His hands slid up your thighs as he lifted the hem of your dress, savoring the soft, heated skin beneath. In one fluid motion, he pulled down your panties, his lips still trailing along your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warm, lingering kisses that made your breath quicken. He groaned into your ear, his voice low and thick with desire, reveling in the way your back arched, your body silently pleading for more.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roamed over your hips as he positioned himself behind you, letting his tip trace over your folds, teasing you until you were trembling in his grasp. The first sensation of him entering you made your breath catch, a shudder running through both of you as he filled you, slow and deep. You instinctively moved in sync, bodies finding a perfect rhythm, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you.

Nicholas buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in rough, heated gasps as he lost himself in the moment, savoring every pulse and movement of your body against his. You reached back, threading your fingers into his hair, giving it a gentle tug, and he let out a breathless whimper—a sound that only made you ache for him more. His need to be in control fueled you, but there was something thrilling in the way he let you pull him back, every now and then, giving you the slightest taste of control.

You guided one of his hands from your hip, pressing it down between your legs. He understood immediately, his fingers finding and massaging that sensitive spot, adding another layer of intensity to your connection. He quickly obliged, his touch skilled and deliberate, and you felt yourself unraveling under the dual sensations, every nerve heightened, every thought fading into pure, unfiltered bliss.

Nicholas’s pace quickened, and with every movement, he brought an intensity that made you lose yourself further with each second. His hands roamed your body, seeking out every place that could make you unravel under his touch. One moment he’d slap your ass, and in the next, his fingers wrapped around your neck, adding a delicious pressure that only heightened the sensations. He reached between your legs, his fingers brushing against your heat, before gently tilting your head, exposing more of your neck so he could plant hungry, open-mouthed kisses there. The air around you both grew hotter, more electric, and you could feel that familiar pressure building, bringing you both to the brink.

He leaned into your ear, his voice thick with need, a hint of desperation woven into it. “I want to cum for you, baby,” he breathed. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, overcome by the sensations he was giving you. “Let’s do it together. I’m so close,” you pleaded, feeling yourself hovering right at the edge. His thrusts stayed steady but powerful, his head buried against your neck, breaths hitching and moans deepening. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your body to match his rhythm perfectly, every stroke hitting deeper, more intense.

Nicholas, always the performer, could feel just how close you were, but he wanted to hear it. His voice was a low, teasing growl. “Tell me how much you want me, baby,” he commanded. “Tell me how good this feels… tell me who you belong to.” With each demand, his movements became more forceful, every stroke making you lose control a bit more.

He was close too, a raw intensity filling each thrust, and just before the finish, he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back to make sure he felt every shudder of your response.

“Are you ready, baby?” he gasped, his tone shaky as he was right on the edge. You tried to say his name, but the feeling was so intense, it came out as a breathless, pleading sound. You nodded, barely able to form words as your body responded, every nerve lit up as you both finally reached your climax.

As he spilled into you, the sensation sent waves of warmth through your entire body, making you moan out, your voice just barely above a whisper but full of satisfaction. Your body shuddered, every nerve still singing from the overwhelming release.

Even as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you a few more slow, teasing thrusts, drawing out every last tremor until you were completely undone. Each lingering movement kept you in the moment, his body still pressed firmly against yours, leaving you weak and trembling beneath him.

A satisfied smirk played across his lips as he felt you react, your legs shaking as his hands traveled slowly up your sides, grounding you through the aftershocks. He murmured in your ear, his voice low and full of pride, "You’re so fucking hot when you cum...just like I always imagined" His fingers traced gentle circles along your waist, savoring how soft you felt under his touch.

With a final, breathless sigh, you turned to face him, pressing your forehead to his as he caught his breath, his thumb grazing softly over your cheek.You both stayed like that, basking in the warmth between you, as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, leaving soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, his way of savoring every last moment.

[bookishjules]

Best Sizzy moment in your opinion?

it's the bite scene. it has to be the bite scene.

the thing is.. this is the first truly intimate moment we have between the two of them. up until this point they've both been almost dancing around each other like a whirlpool, slowly moving closer and closer, leaning on each other, protecting each other, etc., but in ways that don't necessarily have to be acknowledged as indicative of just how much they mean to each other, yk?

and if isabelle hadn't gotten drunk the night before. if she hadn't let down her walls enough to invite him over just to sleep, and if that night hadn't set a precedent for this one where they are both sober and awake. if simon hadn't been hungry.. it's just one thing after another that strips the layers between them until it's just simon and isabelle. and the bit of forced vulnerability on simon's part leads izzy to give him pieces of herself as well. admittedly it's babysteps.. but that's still huge for izzy. she doesn't like seeing him like this. doesn't want him to put off prioritizing himself and his needs out of fear.. of himself, of izzy's opinion of him. because she does trust him. she does want him. so she shows him that. and as she does so she reveals, at minimum, the implication of her own insecurities in this situation. and those willing cracks in the facade of fearlessness she clings to are like the flecks of gold simon notices in her not-as-black-as-he-thought eyes.

the fact that the scene starts with the two of them awkwardly trying to fit together and ends with an easily achieved comfort, and that between those two moments sits a conversation dipping into vulnerability and intimacy.. i could hurt you. let me see your face. you're not nothing. nothing about you is ugly. they're a part of you. i trust you. i want to be with you. it scares the hell out of me. you are a heartbreaker. maybe you'll break my heart. ..it says so much. so much about what a shift this night is, even if its intangible, even if the result isn't that obvious. the shift toward ease and simplicity and security is there.

and don't even get me started on the metaphor of simon siphoning the output of isabelle's heart into himself. of izzy letting him. the acknowledgement that this is different than it has ever been before. in so many ways this is just a physical representation of everything they achieved through their conversation. it's izzy saying you need me. let me be here for you. let me let you use me. which is itself a reciprocation of not only the night before, when izzy needed simon and he came just for that reason, but also of moments like that in cog when he comes to her after max, and he lets her use him because it was what she needed. but it's deeper. it's vein-deep. and the pleasure they both get in the act of sharing blood is just proof of how right they are together. of how scary this whole thing is but also how worth it.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

✨ rich goranski & michael mell (be more chill, 2019) and phyllidia krampington & melvin cooterstein (the eleventh annual joe iconis christmas extravaganza, 2018) ✨

[foone]

Bad idea: Age gap discourse but in a fantasy land where there's multiple races who have vastly different lifespans and life styles.

Is it wrong for a 27 year old human to date a 140 year old stone elf, considering most stone elves don't get out of diapers till their 30s?

Is it wrong for a 80 year old dwarf to date a two year old fire wisp, when fire wisps only live up to 5 years (between the eruptions) and have memories of their past lives, so in a way they're "born" at age 400,000+? That octogenarian dwarf is way younger than the fire wisp that's only physically younger than some of the socks the dwarf has!

Is it wrong for a chronomancer who was never born to date, well, anyone? They are zero years old and infinity years old and negative one hundred and seventeen years old all at once. They look like an old human, sure, with the long white beard and the wrinkly skin, but as far as anyone can tell, they've always looked like that. We've seen the cave paintings.

Is it wrong for a 30 year old lizardman (that's old in lizardman years) to date a human who is 60 years old in biological years (because of aging spells), 26 years old in lived-experience years, but only 13 years old in calendar years? (ie, they were born 13 years ago, but spent some of that time in sideways timelines, so they've lived more years than have passed in their home timeline?)

Is it wrong for a 12,000 year old dragon date a pile of 400 kobolds when kobolds only live like 10 years on average, but reach full maturity in one year? And if you disagree, can you do anything about it? You do know what happened to the last policeman who tried to arrest a dragon, right? Their city is still smoldering, 50 years later.

Is it wrong for anyone to date the time worm? It's the same age, every year. So the age gap can only intensify. If you start dating the time worm when you're both the same age, when do you break it off because you've become too much older than them?

And most confusing of all... What about the fairies? They could be anything between a thousand and a day old, they would lie about their age either way, and they can look like whatever they want. There's fairies we know for a fact have been around since the founding of The City of Towers, who met the silent mother herself, and also look like they're at most ten years old. Is it wrong to date them, or just really uncomfortable for everyone who sees it? And on the other side there's fairies who are "born" (hatched? They come from plants, I'm not sure what the verb even would be. Seeded? Sprouted, maybe) this week who are already appearing like middle-aged men and dancing with widows in what looks like a scheme to run off with her fortune but they never take the money, because what would a fairy want with worthless metal discs? Maybe fairies have a hive mind or genetic memory or reincarnation with full memories, they'd never tell you or give you a straight (or consistent) answer anyway.

Stonefolk are really the only inter-race dating situation anyone can agree on. They're unthinking & unmoving solid rock during the day, so those hours don't count. Thus their "real age" is a nice even half of their true age. So if you meet a stonefolk who was dug out 30 years ago, watch out: that's a 15 year old, and if you're a 25 year human, that's too young for you, even though their dig-date is five years before your birth-date.

EDIT: 2024/01/12: Changed the name of the Stonefolk

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring. 

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances. 

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees. 

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm. 

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove. 

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs. 

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench. 

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!” 

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips. 

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses. 

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier. 

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you. 

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat. 

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours. 

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in. 

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely. 

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner. 

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth. 

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state. 

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

[sluttywoozi]

(Boy)Friend Material | Part II | csc x f!reader

Part I

Seungcheol really thought that, having met you on a dating app, you'd be more into, well, dating him. He supposes he should have made sure you knew that's what he thought you were doing.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~9.2k | Pairing: csc x f!reader | Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: elevator makeouts, minor safe sex discussion, lil tiny mention of birth control making reader depressed, restraining, oral f. rec., vaginal fingering, squirting, sex with a condom, crying during sex

Reader Notes: referred to with she/her pronouns, has two cats, has breasts and a vagina, gets carried by cheol, wap

Seungcheol is still fucking floored that he’s been dating you without your knowledge for four months. 

All this time, he’s feared that you weren’t as into him as he was into you. What else was he supposed to think when he was constantly the one reaching out? He was the one making the dates, and inviting you to hangouts with his friends, and asking if he could come over and spend time with you. 

He tried not to mind that it was always him hugging you, him wanting to hold your hand, him touching you in all the little ways people in relationships do. He told himself that he just hadn’t discovered your love language yet, and that once he did, things would change. 

Honestly, if you were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have stuck it out so long. He was willing and able to because you’re you, and he likes you so damn much. 

You got his attention effortlessly with your opener, and the way you committed to the bit instead of backing down or changing the subject kept him interested. Then when he met you, you were somehow even funnier and prettier in person, and he was fucking enchanted. As soon as you parted ways, he was trying to figure out how he could see you again, dreaming up different scenarios and cycling through ideas until finally, he just asked. You said yes, so he kept asking. 

And now here he sits on your couch (where he can be found most Sundays), playing with your cats and listening to your musings as you pack your weekend bag. He doubts you think he can hear you or you probably wouldn’t be asking yourself, “Comfy or sexy?” out loud. He’s not sure which you pick but he’s kind of hoping for comfy because that’s always been sexy to him, the surety that you’re comfortable around him and cozy as can be.��

It’s been a while since his last relationship and he’s not a serial dater like some of his friends, so he was a bit out of practice when he met you. Still, he counted himself lucky that you grew to be so comfortable around him after only a few weeks, though now he knows it’s because you thought he was just your friend. 

He regrets that it took him thinking you wanted to break up to finally be honest about feeling like the relationship was one sided, because everything could have been resolved so long ago. 

All the times he’s thought about kissing you, he could have. Every morning that he’s surprised you with your favorite iced latte, every flower garden that he’s ever brought you to, every movie night that he’s looked over at you and watched the colors dance across your face in the darkness. He could have been kissing you for months, and you could have been kissing him back. 

He mourns the lost time, but part of him can’t be upset this miscommunication happened because it’s made him move with purpose. He’s constantly thinking of you, always trying to be what you need, and he honestly isn’t sure he would know you this well if he didn’t feel like he had to prove himself worthy. 

It’s not like he’s going to stop trying to prove himself now, but it helps to be reassured that your withholding nature wasn’t because he likes you more than you like him, it was because you didn’t know he likes you at all. 

He feels so juvenile talking in terms of like, but he’s a little scared to introduce love to the equation. He could so easily define his feelings for you in that way, but it’s been four months of dating you without you dating him back, and he’s reluctant to take that leap without being sure you’ll take it with him. 

After he bore his soul to you, though, you said all of those things, told him that you don’t ever want to let him go, which sounds a whole lot like a love confession just minus the actual word…

Bluebell paws at his hand, asking for attention, and he grants it, trying to shake off worries that don’t hold weight anymore. Poppy sprawls against his thigh, purring so loud he can feel the vibrations.

This has been enough, he tells himself. Count yourself lucky that it’ll get even better now that she can knowingly participate in the relationship. 

“Ready,” you say in a sing-song voice as you struggle through the door to your bedroom, your shoulder laden down with a duffle and your hand holding your giant water bottle…cup…thing. You’re wearing your favorite lounge set, one he’s seen countless times, but the way the soft fabric clings to the curves of your body still makes his heart pound. 

He rises quickly to greet you, sending Poppy skittering off the couch. She darts over to you, yowling as if he committed a mortal sin, and you pout indulgently at her, asking, “Did the big man scare you? Poor baby.”

He doesn’t mind the teasing, especially when you call him big in the process. 

Before he gets too wrapped up in staring at you, he strides over, carefully taking hold of the strap on your shoulder and lifting until you slide your arm through so he can shoulder the duffle instead. 

“Wanna get a refill before we go? I know you like your water more than mine,” he offers, continuing to say (because you’re so fucking cute when you’re adamant about something), “Even though it tastes the same.”

“It does not taste the same! My water is better and more refreshing!” You claim instantly, walking across the living room to your kitchenette.

“Maybe that’s because I’ve changed your water filter twice since I met you even though it only needs to be changed twice a year.”

“Maybe so, but you’ll change it a third time for our six month anniversary and you’ll do it with a smile on your face,” you playfully command him as you fill your monstrous water container. 

Six month anniversary. So you really do want to keep him around.

“Yeah, baby, I will,” he sighs, hoping you can’t tell that your little light-hearted threat has him feeling like he could drown, he’s so awash in adoration for you. 

“You’ve never called me baby before,” you gasp gleefully, spinning to face him with bright eyes and a wide smile. 

“I didn’t know if you’d like it,” he shrugs, a bit sheepish that it’s taken him this long to test it out. 

“I love it, baby is my name now,” you tell him, screwing the top back onto your water and sounding so serious, it’s almost comical.

You grasp your cup, holding your free hand out to him for what might be the first time. His heart skips a beat as he takes it, intertwining his fingers with yours and following you to your door. 

“Bye Bell, bye Poppy, I love you,” you call out, looking over your shoulder to find your cats already asleep in their favorite spots on your mushroom and flower cat tree. He whispers his own goodbye and closes the door gently, pressing the button and turning the lock until it clicks. 

Immediately, you’re tugging him down the hall and towards the elevator, a chuckle escaping him at the sound of your bubbly laughter and quick footsteps. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” you press the button and chant at the machine, bouncing in place beside him. 

“Excited?” He teases, amused by your lack of patience. 

Your head turns at the speed of light as you look at him with wide eyes and ask, “Aren’t you?” 

He would be sarcastic but it sounds like your heart is primed to break, and he can’t risk hurting you just for a joke. 

“More than I can say,” he answers honestly, expecting your smile but not the way you hustle him into the elevator and back him up against the wall, wrapping your arm around his neck and looking away only to press the ground floor button. 

“You gonna kiss me or not?” He murmurs, his eyes already on your lips as you get close enough for him to feel your chest against his. 

You answer without words, your perfect lips soft and unyielding, his hand dropping to your hip to tug you into his body as your fingernails scratch at the short hair on the nape of his neck. The feeling sends a shiver down his spine and drags a sigh out of his mouth, one that you swallow with a needy gasp. 

He lowers your duffle to the floor, stepping forward until he’s got you against the wall and sliding his thigh between your legs to see what other sounds he can summon from you as his passion starts to overflow. His lips move against yours insistently, a fire lighting up in his veins when you wilt into him and let him take control, the transfer of power mouthwateringly sweet. 

And then you pull away. You pull away and he tries to chase you but you stop him with a hand on his chest, and he won’t push you, he would never push you. 

“Everything okay?” He pants, trying to clear his mind of the thoughts and images of you that fill it. 

“Yeah, it’s just- we’re here,” you whisper, blinking at him and glancing over at the elevator doors. 

The open elevator doors. 

The lobby is empty, but if Seungcheol is being truthful, he thinks he wouldn’t really care if people did see. 

You’re his girlfriend, and he’s your boyfriend. What’s so wrong with it?

Then again, part of him does want to keep you all to himself, kissing in elevators included. Which is why he’s quick to step away from you and take your hand again, grabbing the duffle before pulling you through the lobby and to his car. 

He’s not in such a rush that he won’t still open your door for you, waiting as you get in and gently shutting the door before tucking your bag in the backseat and jogging around to the driver’s side. He closes his door quietly even in his haste, not wanting to startle you or make you think he’s upset in any way.

His hand finds your thigh again after starting the car up and getting on the road, the silence that fills the space anticipatory instead of stifling like it was just an hour ago. He finds himself clenching his jaw and bouncing his left knee, counting down the traffic lights that sit between your place and his until finally, there’s only one left. 

It’s red when he rolls to a stop, and his heart is thumping so hard in his chest that he swears if he looked down, he’d be able to see it beating. He glances over at you and finds you already staring at him, which has happened more than a few times in the months that he’s known you. This time is different, though, because you don’t pretend you weren’t looking, or start rambling nervously, or even look away. 

You just meet his gaze and let him see everything. Your nerves, your desire, your impatience, he sees it all, and feels it all himself. For perhaps the first time since he met you, he knows for certain that you and him are on the exact same wavelength. 

He’s so entranced that he doesn’t notice the light turn green until the car behind him honks, and that disturbance is still barely enough to make him tear his gaze from yours. His eyes reluctantly return to the road as he gives your thigh a gentle squeeze and presses the gas pedal, closing the distance between the light and his parking garage as quickly as the speed limit allows. 

A long minute passes and he’s pulling into his designated parking spot, his seatbelt unbuckled and his door open before the car is even off. Sometimes, you’re distracted and he gets to open your door for you, but this isn’t one of those times. You’re out just as fast as him, meeting him at the trunk and taking his hand. 

Together, you speed walk to the door that opens into his hallway. You pass through first and then he does, your pace getting faster the closer you get to his place until finally, finally, he’s unlocking the door and beckoning you inside. He pauses to slip his sneakers off at the rack and you follow suit, the sight of your shoes next to his lighting up the part of his brain that craves domesticity with you. 

You don’t come over as often as he goes to your place so when you slow, he takes the lead, his hand still holding yours tightly and his heart still racing. 

He doesn’t quite mean to press you up against the wall but he takes a step forward as you take a step back and then it’s just too easy to lean in and taste you again, your lips supple and your sigh sweet. 

The kiss starts off slow, tame, but it’s not long before he’s inching closer and sucking at your bottom lip, his tongue gliding along yours when you open your mouth and let him in. You’re so warm and soft against him, your breasts flush with his chest and his dick starting to throb against your stomach, the combination of sensations making his head spin. 

It seems he can’t get enough of you now after what feels like millions of missed opportunities, millions of times he’s wanted his lips on yours and his hands on your body. He’s lost in you before he knows it, near mindless with desperation and devotion, his hunger for you so overwhelming that he fears no amount of you will ever be enough. 

It’s never been like this before, nobody else has ever made him feel as if he would suffocate without their air or perish without their touch, but here he is, kissing you like you’re breathing pure oxygen and gripping your hips like he’ll fade into nothingness if he lets go. 

He knew you were special to him but he didn’t know he would need you like this, and the realization is enough to make him pull back, saying through sharp breaths, “Maybe we should slow down, I don’t want you to feel like we have to rush.”

You gaze at him, almost through him, and say, with great care, “Seungcheol, I’ve wanted your dick inside me since we met. If you want to slow down, we can, but if I had it my way, we’d be moving even faster.”

And fuck if that isn’t enough to spur him into action, to make his cock twitch in his jeans and his hands fly to your waist, a rough, “Jump,” escaping his swollen lips. 

You gasp but wrap your legs around him when he starts to lift you, his grip shifting to your thighs as you vine your arms around his neck, seemingly holding on for dear life. He’d die before dropping you so you have nothing to worry about, but he’s too focused on getting you to his bed to inform you of that fact. He also maybe likes feeling you cling to him like this too much to give you any reason to stop. 

“We need a condom, right?” He checks as he walks, fairly certain the answer will be yes. 

Jeonghan bought him a box when he first started seeing you, the exact size he needs and brand he likes, and handed them over with a wink and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Seungcheol rolled his eyes at the time, but he’s thankful for him now because he never would have bought them himself, too fearful of jinxing the situation. 

“Yeah, I stopped my birth control, it was making me hella depressed. Is that- I mean, are you okay with using one?” You ask, though you absolutely don’t need to. 

“Baby, all I care about is making you feel safe. I’ll wear a condom, I’ll pull out, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’re the best boyfriend,” you sigh, hugging him tightly and pressing a kiss to his cheek as he crosses through the doorway to his bedroom.

He left it relatively clean, thankfully, and there’s nothing embarrassing out, unless he counts the picture of him and you that he got framed last month to keep on his nightstand. You see it when he carefully deposits you onto your back on the mattress, your face twisting up like you might cry. 

He’s alarmed until you say, “I have that photo framed on my nightstand.”

The fact that you have one is enough to make him smile but the fact that you picked the same picture is enough to make him fucking beam, his lips stretched too wide to kiss you even though he really wants to. 

He tries anyway, his smile fading as he braces a hand next to your head and presses his mouth to yours, climbing up on the bed when you grip his shirt and start to pull him. He’s imagined this so many times, pictured you under him and on top of him and in front of him (face down, ass up as he slides inside of you). 

He’s made himself cum to the thought of you in this bed, and now that he has you here, he almost doesn’t know where to start. You seem to have your own ideas and desires though, and he’d give anything to find out what they are. 

So, like Seungcheol always has, he just asks. 

“You said you’ve wanted me since we met… What have you thought about?” His voice is ragged when he speaks, deep, but he thinks you like it, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip before your breath leaves you in a sigh. 

“Lots of things,” you whisper, your hands skimming down his chest until they find the hem of his shirt and start to push it up. He sits back on his knees between your legs and hauls it off, fighting a smirk at the way your eyes grow hazy.

You hesitate to put your hands on him, so he takes one of them in his own and presses your palm to his stomach, his muscles jumping at your warm, gentle touch. 

“Like what?” 

“Like… how big you probably are. If you’d be soft and sweet or if you’d be a little rough, a little mean.” 

Following your words, he drags your hand down and lets you feel him, his dick hard and pressing into the zipper of his jeans. You can’t cover all of it, but you close your fingers around the shaft as best you can and rub firmly, one, two, three times. 

“Fuck,” he sighs as you squeeze, the pressure making his eyelids flutter as pleasure sparks within him. “Which do you want more? Soft and sweet or rough and mean? I can be whatever you want.”

“You’re already all I want you to be, Cheol, so just be you.”

God, you’re going to be the end of him. Death by swollen heart.

“A bit of both it is then,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, shifting his grip to your wrist before pushing your hand up to rest beside your head. He does the same with your other hand, leaving you unable to move your upper body. 

He’s about to break away to check in, but you melt into the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, tugging his hips into yours with a soft moan. 

The sound sends a lick of heat down his spine, his dick pulsing in time with his heart and so hard, it almost hurts. He breathes a shuddering sigh into your mouth and grinds into you, wishing his jeans could magically disappear so he wouldn’t have to stop kissing you to take them off. 

The denim is getting to be too restrictive though, especially when he’s dying to feel you with no barriers at all. So he tries to pull back, but you whimper into his mouth and hug him closer with your legs, and the only way he can respond to that is by kissing you harder and letting his body press into yours. 

He’s gone for you for a few more minutes, his jeans all but forgotten as you roll your hips against his and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. The slight sting makes him gasp and dig his cock into you in retaliation, his hands tightening around your wrists when you just push back and bite his lip again. 

It feels almost impossible to pull away from you now but he can’t take it anymore, the clothes need to come off, yours in particular. He’s imagined this too often and wanted you for too long to make this a quick, messy, fully-clothed fuck. You deserve better, you deserve everything, and he’s going to do his absolute best to give it to you. 

So he breaks the connection, ignoring the whine that escapes you to pant out, “I’ll kiss you again when we’re naked, promise.”

“Yes, oh my god, take your pants off,” you reply in a rush, your eyes lighting up as you attempt to free your wrists from his hold. He releases you immediately, but he climbs off the bed before you can wrestle his jeans down, his hands finding yours and pulling until you stand with him. With a laugh, he says, “I said ‘when we’re naked,’ baby. That means you, too.”

“Strip me then,” you raise your arms, a challenge in your gaze, and he can do nothing but accept it, tugging your shirt up and off and freezing in place when he sees what you have on under it. 

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, staring at the cherry red lace that encases your breasts. There are delicate little bows on the straps and the lace is so fine that he can see right through it, could probably rip it without even trying. 

“Did you wear this for me?” He asks absentmindedly, his eyes caught on your tits as they rise and fall with your breathing. 

“Yeah, I bought it when we started talking. I thought you’d like it,” you answer softly, tucking your thumbs into the waistband of your lounge pants and pushing them down just enough for him to get a peek of the very same red. “It’s a matching set.”

His knees weak at the thought, he sits heavily on the mattress, setting his hands on your hips and guiding you to stand between his legs. 

“Can I see?” 

“That’s kind of the point,” you whisper like it’s a secret, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders as he starts to pull your pants down. They slip off easily and pool on the floor, leaving you nearly bare before him and more bewitching than he could have ever imagined. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he sighs out, feeling almost dazed as he takes the sight of you in, his thumbs tracing over the bows that sit on the front of your hips. He sinks his fingertips into you, squeezing to feel the give of your flesh and using all of his willpower to stop himself from tearing the lacy panties right off. 

He could (and would) buy you a new set, but you bought this with him in mind, and had to wait so long to wear it for him. It’s too special for him to damage it just because he’s desperate to see you bare. 

You must be able to read his mind, taking your hands off his shoulders to reach behind your back and undo the clasps, the bra loosening on your body before you shrug it down your arms and toss it on the bed. 

Seungcheol finds himself spellbound once again, captivated by all the skin before him, the way your nipples pebble under his gaze making his breath catch in his chest. “Can I touch you?” 

“I feel like I’ll die if you don’t,” you answer immediately, gasping in relief when he smooths his hands up to cover your breasts. He cups them, testing the weight, and squeezes gently, already obsessed with the feeling of your soft, supple skin under his palms. His thumbs drag over your nipples, circling them until you let out a quiet little whimper, one that he would give his life to hear again. 

“Lay down for me, baby,” He requests, needing you spread out before him so he can fully drink you in. 

Forgetting a change in position means he has to stop touching you, he pouts when you step out of his reach, though he’s distracted almost instantly by the cheeky cut of your panties. 

He stands on knees that are still slightly weak, getting out of your way and watching as you climb up on the bed. He tries not to ogle you but your ass looks so fucking biteable from here, and he can’t even let himself focus on the space between your legs because he just might combust if he gets a good look.

You settle on your back in the center of the mattress and he feels his heart squeeze at the sight of you in his bed. He’s wanted you in it for months, and not just for sex, but for cuddling and reading together and falling asleep in each other’s arms, too. So much time has been wasted, but he won’t let it bother him, not when this literally feels like a dream come true. 

He starts moving toward you, trying to formulate a game plan for how he can kiss your stomach and suck one of your nipples at the same time, but you hold a hand out and say, “Stop.”

Every muscle in his body locks up, his heart pounding in anxiety that he’s done something wrong, that you’ve changed your mind about him, that you- 

“Don’t look so worried, Cheollie, I just want you to take your jeans off,” you soothe, making him sigh out his stress and squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Listen to me, Seungcheol. I like you so much that it scares me sometimes. I like you in a way that is concerning to my friends. I like you more than I have ever liked anyone else. My crush on you is deeper than the Mariana Trench,” you say emphatically. “I will tell you this until you believe it.”

Fuck, he feels like he might cry. 

Hearing these words from you is affirming beyond belief, soothing to his very soul, and the steadiness and truth in your voice as you said them is what gives him the courage to admit it. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers quietly, his eyes still closed. He hears rustling, envisions you making your way to the edge of the bed, and he’s not surprised when he feels your hands take his. 

“I know I’m in love with you,” you whisper back, your fingers intertwined with his and your voice just as sure as before. 

He blinks his eyes open, finds you staring up at him with a teary, affection-soaked gaze, and can’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss stays chaste and soft even though your tits are out and he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, this moment so precious to him, his desire takes the back burner. 

Until you pull back and tell him, “Now take your pants off, please. I’m so fucking wet for you.”

Fuck the back burner, you just lit the stove on fire. He unbuttons his jeans, the fly barely halfway down before he’s shoving them off and stepping out of them, kicking them away like their presence offends him. You didn’t ask him to, but he sheds his boxer briefs as well, feeling his cock pop up and hit his stomach before it hangs heavily between his legs. 

Your eyes grow wide and you open your mouth to say something, but he can’t stop hearing, ‘I’m so fucking wet for you,’ the words seared into his brain forevermore. 

“Let me eat you out?” He practically begs, willing to ask again on his knees if you want him to. 

“I love that you ask, but you don’t need to anymore. Just do what feels right and I’ll stop you if I don’t like it,” you promise, laying back and lifting your ass for him as he slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts to tug them down. 

And shit, they’re soaked, fucking sodden with your arousal, the lace sticking to your pussy as he peels them away. He can feel his mouth water when the scent of you fills his nose, leaving him breathless and near brainless with need for you.

Sinking to his knees, he gently pushes your thighs apart to reveal the prettiest fucking pussy he’s ever seen. Maybe he just thinks that because it’s yours, but that doesn’t really matter when you’re glistening and open and all for him. 

He’s always imagined himself having some amount of finesse when he finally got his tongue between your legs, always pictured going slow and taking you apart piece by piece, or at least pacing himself even a little bit. Now that he’s here, with his hands on your thighs and his face just inches from you, he knows that won’t be the case at all. 

You smell too fucking good for him to hesitate any longer, his tongue darting out and dragging from your opening to your clit. He can’t hold in the groan that leaves him at the first taste of you, his cock twitching as your arousal coats his taste buds, heady and rich and perfect. His eyes flutter closed and he buries his face in your cunt, pushing your thighs up to your stomach so he has more room to work. 

He feels your hands against his, feels them hooking beneath your knees to hold your thighs up for him, and he moans gratefully in response, setting his thumbs on either side of your pussy and pulling your lips apart so he can taste you more directly. 

He dips his tongue into your entrance and you clench around it, the sensation making him whimper into your pussy and delve even deeper inside. Just this might not be enough to get you there but you taste fucking heavenly and feel even better, and he’s wanted his mouth on you like this for months. 

So he allows himself to be selfish for a few minutes, fucking you with his tongue just to feel the way you quiver and squeeze around the muscle. Your arousal starts to leak down his chin and he almost regrets the waste of it, pulling his tongue from your pussy to latch his lips to your opening and suck. 

“Seungcheol, please, I need-,” you implore him, your words halting when he fills you with two of his fingers, the digits sinking inside with a squelch. You whine above him and his gaze travels up your body to find your back arched and your kiss-swollen lips parted, every sound that escapes them like music to his ears. 

Fuck, you’re a goddamn wet dream.

His fingers curl inside of you, exploring until he finds that patch of nerves along your front wall. As soon as he grazes it, you gasp brokenly and buck into his touch, making him bite his lip and return his eyes to your pussy and the way it swallows his fingers. His mouth finds your clit and suctions around it, the little bud firm under his tongue as he flicks it back and forth, following your sounds to find what you like best. 

“Cheol, I-I’m getting close,” you moan out in a warning tone, but it only makes him more determined, his fingertips grinding into you and his lips puckering around your clit. You seem to love it when he sucks in pulses and crooks his fingers into your sweet spot at the same time so he sets a quick tempo, hoping to help you find the edge and then tip you over it. 

It happens sooner than he expects, the molten velvet of your cunt tightening around his fingers rhythmically as your cries reach a fever pitch. He doesn’t stop, wonders if he even could when you’re making the noises you are and begging him, “Please, Cheollie, please.”

He would soothe you but his mouth is still hard at work on your clit, his tongue rolling over the bud again and again as his fingers prod that spot inside of you. Soon enough, you can’t speak, just sobbing and sinking a hand into his hair to hold him in place, your thigh falling to rest on his shoulder. 

He doesn’t mind the weight, loves your soft skin against his ear and the feeling of you pressing his face into your pussy, as if he’d even consider pulling away now. You want to cum again, he can tell, and he’s not going to stop until you do. 

He fucks his fingers in and out of you faster, pursing his lips around your clit and sucking deeply, grumbling and groaning into you in encouragement, his brows furrowed and his vision hazy. 

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, growing impossibly wetter and locking down like a vise until all he can do is curl his fingertips into your sweet spot and dig his tongue into your clit. A sharp whine pierces the air and your thigh trembles on his shoulder as you break, arousal gushing out of you in spurts to coat his neck and drip down over his collarbones. 

It’s the only flood he’s ever been thankful for, and before you’ve even started to recover, he’s already voicing his gratitude.

“Fucking beautiful, baby. That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, oh my god,” he mumbles, pressing kisses along the thigh that rests on his shoulder, withdrawing his fingers to clean them off with his mouth. 

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you whisper dreamily, struggling to lift your head. 

He lowers your thigh and rises to his feet, shaking out his stiff legs before leaning down over you and letting you taste yourself on his lips. The kiss grows deep in an instant, his tongue sliding into your mouth as you wrap your legs around him and pull his body into yours. His aching dick gets trapped in between until you reach down and take hold of it, guiding it to rest against your hot, wet cunt. 

That first bit of contact is enough to pull a low groan from him, the slippery heat of your pussy on the top side of his cock making him throb and leak against you. He’s so fucking desperate for you but there’s only one thing that he wants more than to sink inside of you bare right now, and that’s to respect your wishes (and not get you pregnant… for the next year or two, at least). 

Maybe someday he can fuck you without a condom but that day won’t be today, so with great difficulty, he drags his lips away from yours and reaches an arm out to pull open his bedside drawer. He feels around for a second, exclaiming victoriously when his fingers catch on the box before he takes hold of it and sets it on the bed. 

Looking back at you for approval, he finds you beaming up at him like he hung the stars in the sky just so you could bask in their light, and fuck, he swears he’d rearrange them all in the shape of you, given the chance. 

He fumbles one-handed with the box for a minute, his other hand braced next to your head to keep himself from crushing you, before you take over and tear it open, ripping a packet off the strip and tossing the rest onto his nightstand. 

“We’ll need those for later,” you inform him matter-of-factly as you unwrap the condom and reach down to wrap your fingers around his dick. He’s been leaking enough precum that your hand glides when you pump it up and down, and it takes an astounding amount of self control not to fuck into your grasp as if he’s never been touched before. 

You place the condom at his tip and start to roll it on and even that is heavenly, your touch electric and your eyes bright like the summer sun when your gaze meets his. He feels you line him up, his cock jumping at just the thought of being inside your perfect cunt, barrier or no barrier. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling his hips into yours, and he takes that for the hint it is. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he starts to sink into you, the head of his cock pushing through the tightness of your entrance to disappear inside of you inch by inch. He goes slowly, both to give you time to adjust and to give himself the opportunity to get it together, the blazing heat and intoxicating grip of your pussy wiping out every coherent thought in his brain. There’s a stretch but it’s eased by your arousal, and the way he can feel you relaxing and opening up to accept him is nothing short of exquisite. 

“How does it feel?” He gasps out raggedly, watching your face as he finally bottoms out. Your eyebrows are scrunched up and your pretty lips are parted, soft breaths escaping as you hitch your thighs up higher on his waist and let your eyes blink open. 

They’re full of tears, making him blanch and immediately start to pull his hips back, sure that he’s hurting you and you’ve been unable to even speak through the pain to tell him. 

“No, stay! Stay, Cheollie, it’s fucking perfect,” you plead in a broken voice, hugging him closer with your legs and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Then why are you crying?” He asks, confused and still slightly worried though the fluttering of your walls around him is enough to make him want to cry too. 

“I’ve just wanted you for so long, and you make me feel even better than I ever dreamed you would,” you tell him through a wobbly smile. “I think you’re my missing piece.” 

“Baby,” he sighs lovingly as he melts against you and drops down to his elbows to press his lips to yours, the movement burying him just a bit deeper inside and making both you and him moan in pleasure. 

He doesn’t think he even knows words that could explain how flawless, how right you feel around him, but he can at least try, for you. 

“Being inside of you is like… coming home. Like I’ve been wandering in the cold my whole life and I finally found somewhere soft and warm and safe to rest. I kind of want to never leave,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours and gazing into your eyes as he speaks. 

“You may not be able to stay forever but I’ll always want you to come home again,” you promise him gently. “You will leave enough to move, though, right? Because-”

Laughing, he squeezes his eyes shut and steels himself before pulling his hips back a few inches, the drag of your clenching walls on his cock enough to steal his breath even with the latex in between. He tries to go slowly as he presses back into you, but the igneous embrace of your cunt draws him in with one effortless, gliding thrust. 

Somehow, burying himself inside of you the second time feels even better than the first, and it’s easier to withdraw from your warmth again when he realizes that the pleasure will only compound as he moves more and more. 

Fighting to keep his eyes open and on your face while he establishes a rhythm, he builds speed until the catch in your breath and the fluttering of your eyelashes tells him he’s found the best pace for you. He can’t make it out more than a couple inches before your legs around his waist stop him, but he loves that you want him inside as much as he wants to be inside, so he just puts more power behind his hips as he slides back in to make sure you feel it. 

Time starts to pass and he falls into something like a trance, the feeling of your pussy clinging to him as he leaves and cradling him as he returns hypnotic. It’s almost as if he’s lost the ability for complex thought and replaced it with pure sensation, just acting on instinct now that his brain has been rendered useless. 

It doesn’t help that your gaze is deep, mesmerizing, fucking magnetic. He can’t look away, feels like he can’t even blink as he fucks into you, his face close enough to yours that he’s breathing your air. Still, he wants to be even closer, wants to burrow inside of you, climb into your ribcage, and make a home right next to your heart. 

The desire is so intense, it’s nearly frightening, but nothing could scare Seungcheol away from you now. He’s yours, mind, body, and soul, belonging to you in a way he’s never allowed himself to belong to anyone else before. 

He hates to admit it, but he’s already starting to get close. Lasting has never been an issue for him, even in the past few months when all he could think about was you, but thinking about you and being inside of you are two very different things. Your pussy is goddamn magical, everything about fucking you is goddamn magical, and he fears his only hope is in changing positions. 

“Baby, can I- shit, can I fuck you from behind?” He stalls his movements long enough to ask, dreading the moment he’ll have to pull out completely so you can turn over. 

“Um, yes but…I honestly don’t know if I can hold myself up,” you reluctantly admit, like you think it’s something to be embarrassed about. 

“That’s what pillows and my hands are for,” he assures you, smiling at the way you relax and unwrap your legs from his waist, allowing him to begin the process of extricating himself from you. 

Slowly, he begins to draw his hips back, ignoring the alarm bells that ring in his head as he feels his cock leave your heat inch by inch. It’s only for a minute or two, he tells himself, pushing off of you and sitting up so you can get onto your stomach. 

He watches your body move as you roll over, his eyes stuck on the curve of your plush ass before you get your knees under you and they shift to the gleam of your wet, fucked open cunt. Keeping his gaze on you, he reaches to the head of the bed and grabs the two pillows that rest there, sliding them under your hips one after another. You sink into position, your back arched and your cheek pressed against his sheet, completely relaxed even with your body on full display for him. 

The groan escapes without his permission, the memory of your taste on his tongue making his mouth water. Before he knows it, he’s on his stomach too and burying his face in your pussy, reaching up to press down on the small of your back so you arch even deeper into him. 

“Cheol!” You gasp, pushing back onto his tongue when he shoves it inside of you, making him whimper into your cunt as he devours you. 

“Never gonna get enough of this pussy, fuck,” he mutters as he shifts his focus to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking in pulses. He doesn’t know how long he eats you out, just that he goes until you’re dripping down his face again and squirming against him, desperate to cum. 

“Seungcheol, please, I ne-need your cock, need you to fill me up,” you cry out, reaching back and gripping one of his hands where it holds you down. 

His dick jumps and leaks into the condom at your words, the plea in your voice sparking a shiver he feels all the way from his scalp to his toes. Pulling his tongue from you, he rises back up on his knees and shuffles forward, taking hold of his cock and gliding it up and down the seam of you, nudging at your clit. 

“Cheol,” you begin, likely about to threaten him. He would love to hear it but your entrance catches on the head of his dick and he can’t resist the alluring, feverish depths of your cunt, sliding inside in one long, ruthless thrust. 

You keen when he reaches the end of you but you also tilt your hips to accept the last inch, the snug clutch of your pussy near mythical in the bliss it brings him. With one hand gripping your hip to hold you up and the other firm on the small of your back to keep you in place, he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

The tempo he takes is brutal, fierce, the force of his hips impacting your ass making it ripple and bounce as he fucks into you. His hearing is fuzzy with how fucking good it feels but he can still make out the smack of his skin against yours and the slick sound of his cock gliding through your wetness. There’s a squelch every time he bottoms out, and accompanied by your whines and whimpers, all of the noises combine to create a masterpiece of a melody. 

Seungcheol truly thought the pause would help but he’s right back where he started, throbbing and leaking for you and so fucking close to the edge, he’s concerned he’ll make it there before you do. Sure, you already came twice, but you deserve a third, a fourth if he can hold himself back long enough - one orgasm for every month he spent not making you cum. 

The hand on your back slips around under your hips, working itself down between your legs to find your clit. It’s swollen beneath his fingers, slippery from the arousal his dick keeps pushing out, which only makes it easier to swirl circles into the bud, the way your pussy instantly clenches around him making him moan roughly. 

The added resistance just enhances each stroke, your walls trying to suck his cock back in when he pulls out and hugging him tighter and tighter every time he pushes inside again. He fears he won’t be able to make you cum without it making him cum too, but there’s something so poetic about finding that euphoria together that he can’t be bothered about breaking this soon. 

“Getting close, baby?” He asks, fairly sure what your answer will be. 

“Yeah, Cheollie, wan-wanna cum with you inside me so bad,” you gasp, craning your neck to look back at him. “Thought about it every time I-” 

You can’t finish your sentence when his fingers start to move faster, but he thinks he knows where you were going with it. 

“Every time you fucked yourself, you wished it was me instead, huh?” He teases a little meanly, knowing he has no room to talk.

Your face crumples as you nod, tears filling your eyes, and he leans down over you, his hand leaving your hip to brace himself so he doesn’t suffocate you. He presses his lips to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, murmuring, “I did the same fucking thing, baby, and I always wanted it to be you.”

“Promise?” You whisper, a vulnerable tinge to your voice. He’s reminded that, until tonight, you had no idea how he felt about you. This is all still new, and he needs to be kind, delicate, reassuring as you acclimate to the reality of him being in love with you. 

Stopping all movement so you can fully focus on his words, he whispers back, “Cross my heart and hope to die. Ever since we met, I’ve thought about you, wanted you, dreamed about you. I fell for you. You’re it for me.” 

“You're it for me too, Seungcheol,” you tell him gently, before asking, “Can I turn back over? I want you to hold me.”

He answers by smacking one last kiss to your cheek and climbing off of you, helping to roll you onto your back and pulling one of the pillows out from under your hips, leaving you slightly elevated but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. Sighing contentedly as he stretches himself out along your body, he slides his forearm under your shoulders to pull you into his chest and holds himself up with that elbow, slipping the other hand between your bodies to guide his dick inside of you. 

“Better?” He confirms, grinning when you nod shyly and wrap your arms around his neck, your legs rising to encircle his waist as he sinks back into you. He hopes you feel as held by him as he feels by you, the sheer comfort and safety of your body enough to make his eyes water this time. 

He moves slowly, carefully, rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, never leaving you more than halfway before burying himself inside again. The brief pause did wonders for his self control, his release feeling far enough away that he thinks he really might be able to get you there once before he lets you pull him over the edge too. 

Until you start kissing him, that is. 

Once your lips meet his and your tongue slips into his mouth, every part of him is wrapped up in loving you. There’s not a single thing on his mind except for you, every thought dedicated to kissing you, fucking you, pleasing you, and it feels so goddamn right. Like this is what he was made for. 

And fuck if that doesn’t have him closer than ever before, his cock pulsing and leaking into the condom, the latex probably the only thing keeping him from cumming right now. If he could feel you bare, it would be over for him, and as much as he wants to experience you without the barrier, he’s thankful for it. 

His fingers settle back onto your clit and start to rub circles around it, his mouth catching the gasp you let out when his hips scoop on the next thrust in and drag the head of his cock against your g-spot. 

He can’t hit it with every stroke, not when he wants to get as deep as possible, but combined with the work of his fingers, he can feel you getting closer each and every time he does graze the erogenous patch. 

You stop kissing him to tilt your head back and let out a long, high-pitched whine, and he knows it’s almost time. He doesn’t change a thing, not when your nails dig into his shoulders, not when your hips buck into his, not even when your pussy starts to swallow around his cock. He just keeps his steady pace, continues to roll your clit beneath his fingers, and hopes, prays, wishes that pleasure will find you before it washes over him. 

“Please, please, please baby, please fucking cum for me,” he begs, every muscle in his body tensing as he fights to hold off his own orgasm. It’s not in vain, thank fucking goodness, because you whimper brokenly as your pussy starts to undulate around him, growing tighter and tighter until he can’t move, can barely even breathe. 

You’re cumming, fuck, you’re cumming, and so is he, the pulsating of your walls around him making him surge deep inside and stay there as he fills the condom with his cum, his cock jerking and jumping within you. It’s better than it ever has been, every thought in his head wiped out by pure fucking ecstasy and every muscle in his body tensing then relaxing as he succumbs to the urge to just melt into you and let two become one. 

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass before he can pull himself away from you, but eventually you release your hold on him, your arms falling to rest beside your head and your legs gingerly returning to the mattress. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to not be inside of you, but the condom is starting to feel uncomfortable now that he’s softening, especially as full of cum as it is, so he holds the base of it as he withdraws himself from you. 

You pout the whole time and he does too, but you say nothing as he gets off the bed to slip the condom off, tying the end in a knot before dropping it in the bin next to his desk. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know why but he’s nervous to turn back around, to face you again. When he does, though, you just smile up at him sleepily and open your arms, waiting for him to find his place. 

He grins softly and slides back into bed, laying on his back and gathering you up against his chest, humming contentedly when you snuggle into him, your leg tossed over his thigh and your arm wrapped around his waist. 

“We should wash up, but I don’t want to move…” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to press a kiss to your crown before letting it drop back down, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“I have bad news,” you say quietly. His heart starts to race and his eyes fly open, his arms tightening around you like that’ll protect him from what you’re about to say. 

“What is it?” He asks, hesitation clear in his voice. 

“We forgot my stuff in your car,” you whisper nervously, as if that’s something he would actually get upset with you over. 

He can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of him, tinged in both love and relief, though he does muffle it in your hair. 

“That’s not so bad, baby. I’ll go get your water and bag, and you start the shower, okay?” he proposes, already planning to jog so he can make it back in time to rinse off with you. 

“Okay,” you sigh happily, sitting up and rolling out of bed before prancing over to the ensuite, fully fucking naked. 

Yeah, no way in hell is he staying on that goddamn couch tonight. 

AN: what a fucking journey this was!! I’m so happy i kept yall updated through it because it was so nice to have you cheering me on and to know you were excited for it to come out 🥺 did i expect it to be three times as long as part one? no! are their feelings a bit dramatic? yes! is this fanfiction? yes, so i can make it as dramatic as i want! people get married after one month, they’re allowed to be in love after four! ps you don’t know how hard it was to keep more breeding kink from slipping into this like it’s borderline impossible for me to write seungcheol without breeding kink but i did my best and i did it for you

all i have left to say is this: you deserve someone who will love you like seungcheol loves reader! you deserve someone who will listen to you and respect you and do everything in their power to make you feel good! that’s what i, user sluttywoozi, wants for you! remember that the next time you think about settling for less than what you deserve!

Taglist: @so-da-1 @plskillme22 @nightshadeblooming @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @gyuguys @jennwonwoo @lelestarmy @disneyprincessshuri @alexbarberry @scoupsjin @sourkimchi @bangrauhl13 @meowmeowminnie @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @lukeys-giggle @polyglot-ton267 @bubbletroubble @bouclesdefeu @sunshinekyeom-sang @ujimatchaaa

[tinyarsonist]

Volume: Up

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Summary: In which heart throb K-Pop Idol, Bangchan, just shows you how 'Christopher' he can really be.

MDNI 18+ Only

TW: idol!Chan, IdolTrainee!Y/N(fem!), drinking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), smut in general, dirty talk, swearing, masturbation, dumification, nipple play (fem!), cum on stomach, PleasureDom!Chan, switch!reader (fem!), pull out, cum on stomach, let me know if I missed anything!

Italics are in Korean. Bold is in Spanish. Rest in English.

Volume Series: Part One | Part Two | ?

You were still in awe.

You started your career as an idol fairly late in the game, making you older than most. But, when you entered the world of K-pop, you knew this was what you were meant to do. You were already creating music since you were young, and how hard could it be?

Very.

There were days as a trainee when you felt like giving up. You left your friends and family back home to pursue your dream, and after years, you still felt like you were right back at the same spot you started. Never moving. Stagnant.

That's when you discovered Stray Kids. Watching their debut to where they are now. It motivated you.

Then, one day, your company announces that they want you to lead a team. They presented you with suitable candidates for your girl group, but something in you felt like something wasn't right. "Sorry," you apologize to your board. "But, if I may be so bold as to recruit my own members?"

You wanted a family. Craved friendship beyond just another gig. And, well, let's say it worked out very well for you.

This brings you to the present day--standing in DIV studio, surrounded by its members, to do an interview. Your group was just starting out and already doing well. You've posted a couple of dance practices and some ballad covers you performed as a group, tracking some major views across all social media. DIV wanted to be the first to be a part of the soon-to-be international hype.

"You ready?" Eric smiled at you as the crew set up your microphone. You nodded happily. The rest of your group couldn't make it due to schedule. It felt weird not having the rest of your girls around you, but knew this wasn't an opportunity you just passed up.

Time passes, and so far, the interview is going great. It was amazing being around like-minded people. And, it was also nice being able to curse and not have to worry about your 'imagine' among them. They were free to be who they wanted. They wanted to break the mold; conformity was not in their dictionary. It took a while to let your company agree to the interview in the first place, but this was the direction you wanted to take the group. To be yourself and just produce music.

"Okay, so next up is the heart rate challenge." Eric smiled. You were divided into teams; you and Eric vs. Peniel and BM. The winner would be dubbed by the lowest combined heart rate.

"You're going down!" BM teased as Peniel hyped him up in the back. You grin brightly.

"Considering you boys are literally jumping around before the monitor is even placed, I think it's safe to say we'll win."

"Oh okay, that's how it's gonna be??" Peniel laughed. "Then let's make a bet; the loser buys everyone barbeque!"

Eric and you agreed in a heartbeat. You were already craving galbi and rice. Peniel essentially just bought the dinner you were going to buy tonight anyway.

As the heart monitors are placed, you try your best to stay calm. You were an anxious person in general, but when push comes to shove, you always had a way of relaxing yourself.

Peniel and BM went first. Eric and you teased them relentlessly during their time duration of 5 minutes. Peniel started blushing during his time up when you started throwing winks and kisses his way. Their combined score was 250.

"That's not far!" Peniel groaned as the video crew asked for a short break to recalibrate their equipment. "She's too cute, like how does someone not get flustered?"

"It's all fun and games in love and war," you winked at him. Everyone laughed except Peniel, who just took out his phone and pouted. His fingers typed furiously on his keyboard. Once it was time to get the cameras rolling again, Peniel had a knowing smirk on his face. You couldn't help but wonder what he was concocting. You just knew he was plotting his revenge against you.

Eric went first. Despite the constant harassment Peniel and BM gave him, you couldn't help but laugh at their jabs. "You're supposed to be on my team!" Eric roared at you at his last 10 seconds on the clock. Despite everything, his heart rate totaled to 120. All you had to do was ignore the comments for a minute. You got this. You sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed your legs, getting in an almost meditative position. The rest followed. Then the buzzer started.

"So," Peniel started as soon as the timer started going. "You learned Korean by yourself, right?"

You shot him a distrusting glance. "Yes..."

Peniel and BM nodded their heads slowly. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very interesting." Eric shot you a glance. He could feel it, too. Based on how the two acted Eric's turn was completely different, they were calm. Too calm. They were up to something.

"One might say," Peniel feigned thoughtfulness by stroking his chin. "You had an interest in learning Korean before you even had thought of becoming a trainee."

Crap. He saw the clip.

Before your group days, you would do little lives here and there. Just want to document your early days and interact with anyone who wants to chat. During that time, you mentioned the real reason you learned Korean was to easily watch interviews without the need for subtitles. Then you casually mentioned how much of a fan you were for a certain boy group. Your fans, which was very little back then, took those clips and circulated them online. Which was fine. It gained some traction that you were a STAY and helped grow your platform. It was a bit embarrassing, essentially admitting that you only learned the language to watch their episodes and lives to get full context. But, hey, it also helped you get to where you are today.

Getting bullied by two idols so they don't have to pay for your dinner.

"Yes, Peniel. I learned Korean so I can watch Stray Kids' interviews live." You roll your eyes but keep track of where your monitor is. 95bpm. Not bad. So long as you stayed below 130, that galbi was yours.

Peniel and BM continued to stroke their chins. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very... Stray Kids fan. Very cool"

Peniel held up a finger before leaving the room. You looked around at the crew, confused. Eric laughed and peered after him; "Where is he going?"

His question was answered as Peniel stepped back into the room with a shorter figure behind him. You moved around to peer behind Peniel, and when you locked eyes with the guest, your heart rate shot up. 110bpm.

Eric and BM rose to give a small bow when Chan said his hellos. You stayed still in your place. Embarrassment immediately washed over you. But you took a deep breath in and out, 3 minutes until you can freak out. 3 minutes, and you can process every single emotion you are feeling.

Chan gave you a little wave, his dimples showing as he smiled. Ugh, he might as well shoot you in the heart right now.

"You're not gonna stand up?" Peniel teased. You immediately shook your head. As much as you wanted to say hi, dinner was calling your name. Seeing Chan in the flesh was amazing. But Galbi beat everything at this moment. BM smiled brightly and motioned for Chan to take a seat next to you. How sweet.

2 minutes. 115bpm.

You bowed your head slightly to say hello, still a bit too stunned to speak. Chan gave a small head bow back. "Sorry about this," he chuckled. You told him it was okay, but still unable to make eye contact. Despite that, you knew he looked incredible. He always did.

Focus! You tried to snap yourself out of it and took deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

"So... you learned Korean to watch us live? That's sweet," Chan felt awkward all of a sudden. When Peniel texted him, this wasn't what he expected to be doing during the interview. "How many languages do you know?"

You close your eyes and focus back on the game. Here you were making casual conversation, while 3 other idols were jabbing at you, trying to get your heart rate back up. "Four; English, Korean, Japanese, and Spanish."

"Holy crap, how is it going down?!" Eric looked at the monitor and backed up at you. You kept your eyes closed, trying to maintain a steady rhythm. Everyone but Chan was losing their shit.

You could hear BM jump to his feet. The impending doom of a very large bill drove his heart rate up. "Chan, do something!" He exclaimed in Korean. Chan giggled next to you; "What? What do I do?"

"Hit on her!" Peniel got up as well. All attention is now on Chan. Eric stood up and pointed at the two competitors; "Hey! Hey! You leave her alone!"

You couldn't help but chuckle; "I was subscribed to his bubble. I was in the trenches with the rest of STAY. There's nothing he can say that I haven't heard."

Chan clicked his teeth with his tongue. His eyes narrowed. A challenge. He looked at you, with your eyes still closed, before casting his gaze over at Eric. "Anyway, we can mute our mics for a sec?"

Your eyes shot open.

1 minute. 120bpm.

BM ran over to mute your mic. As soon as he backed up, Chan leaned in close to your ear. His breath tickled your cheek, and you had to close your eyes again. 125 bpm. 30 seconds.

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Chan wasn't expecting you to turn your head so quickly towards him. The way your face flushed. Your eyes wide. Everything about you was making his heart race. You locked eyes with him and felt like you couldn't breathe. This was it. That free galbi was gone.

The buzzer went off.

Everyone turned to the monitor.

129bpm.

You shot up from your seat and hugged Eric. Peniel and BM groaned at their loss. Chan laughed as he watched the two of you jumping around, singing about free barbeque.

He took a moment to sneak a look at you, his gaze traveling up and down. The way your hair bounced with you and how your outfit was snuggling your curves just right. He stood up as Eric said their sign-off. Once the cameras were shut off, the teasing started between the four. Peniel placed his arm around the younger idol and pulled him in a side hug. "It's okay," he reassured Chan. "It's not entirely your fault. A good majority of it. But, not fully."

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. Everyone came up to thank him for coming over. That's when he locked eyes with you again, giving him a bright smile.

You gave the bow you weren't able to give before, formally introducing yourself. You all talked for a bit until you felt your hunger start to spike up; "Okay, so when are we getting dinner?"

The group settled for a time later tonight so everyone could get ready. BM invites Chan to tag along.

"No no," Chan shook his head, not wanting to impose. Peniel tickled his stomach as the rest of the group tried to get him to agree. You couldn't help but chime in. Part of you being selfish and wanting to spend more time with him and also wanting to get a jab in at Peniel and BM; "Come on, it'll be fun. And free!"

Chan looked at you. It was subtle, but his cheeks turned a bit red. "Y-yea, okay."

Chan made his way back to his dorm. The rest of the members who share the space are away on their own schedules. It was rare for Chan to spend the night alone.

He groaned as he plopped on the couch. He was still a bit jet lagged from flying from NYC back home. Laying his head on the back of the couch, he tried to take a nap before having to get ready to head out for dinner with you and the rest of the group.

You.

His mind was restless, and for some reason, they kept fluttering back to you. No matter how much he tried to push them out, he couldn't stop thinking about your big doe eyes. The way your breath hitched as he leaned in. The perfume you were wearing.

Was it Channel? Gucci? Whatever it was, it was flowery like a spring day. He could still smell it on his clothes oh so slightly.

Biting his lower lip, he got up from his seat and headed to the shower. The warm water was welcoming as he tried to clear his head. Unfortunately, it seemed there was only one thing to rid him of these thoughts.

The amount of guilt he felt once he stroked his cock to the thought of you was soon discarded as his mind wandered even more.

What were you like? Did you relinquish control or demand it? Were your lips as soft as he can imagine? Your mouth--oh God. How would it feel to have it wrapped around him? Were you a moaner? A screamer? Could he scramble your brain so much that you scream for him in Korean? Would you come in multiple languages?

He sped up his pace even faster. Water cascaded down his back as he faced the tile bathroom wall. One hand on the structure to ground him as he lost himself at the thought of you. He leaned his head back as he felt himself building and building. The warm water was a comforting feeling on his scalp.

The way he would take you as soon as you entered the dorm. No words, just a clash of flesh as he stripped you of your clothes and bent you over the couch. He wouldn't waste any time and would just thrust into your--oh God. How would you feel around his dick? How tight--

He muffled a moan as he came on his hand. The shower washed away any evidence of his inappropriate thoughts of you. He panted heavily and stood under the water for a couple of moments, pleasure rippling through him soon to be replaced with an abundant amount of guilt for getting off to someone he barely knew.

Maybe that was the thrill of it. Maybe the thought of having someone who didn't know his ups and downs is what did it for him.

Chan didn't have time to dwell on the thought as the time to meet up was fast approaching. And he hated to admit, but the thought of seeing you made his now softening cock twitch.

By the time Chan arrived at the restaurant, platters and drinks were spread across the shared table. BM and Peniel bought out a room so they could enjoy their meal without prying eyes. Chan could hear them hollering in the room before he even opened the door. His ears rang as they all loudly greeted him.

"Look who finally made it!" Peniel laughed as Chan took a seat across from them. Eric and BM were putting meat on the grill as they said their greetings. Chan couldn't help but scan the room, taking note that you weren't there. He tried to play it cool as he asked if you were running late.

"She texted us saying there was something she needed to finish up at home," BM answered him. Eric couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows at Chan.

"Why? Scared she might not come?"

"No, no." Chan chuckled awkwardly while looking off to the side. "Was just wondering, is all."

The boys all made cooing noises. A flush of embarrassment washed over Chan at their teasing. Peniel smirked; "Wouldn't blame you, she's gorgeous!"

Chan poured himself a shot of soju, trying his best to drown out their teasing and take the stress away. The three men quit their teasing and talked about mundane things; schedules, new music coming out, and how big the bags under Chan's eyes were.

"I just flew back from New York!"

"Doesn't matter! Ever heard of eye cream!"

They were laughing at one another by the time you entered the room. Everyone stood up to greet you with a bow, and you bowed back. Gesturing for them to take their seats again. "Sounds like a party in here," you smiled as you took a seat next to Chan. He took note of how you wore your hair up in a messy bun, showing off your silver necklace. That flowery smell radiated off of you, and he had to lean a bit to the side so it didn't flood his senses in all the right ways.

"Is that soju or vodka?" You spot a filled shot glass from across the table. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Hand me it."

Chan watched you down the shot with a smile and motioned for Eric to pour you another one. "Hard day?"

The second shot went down a bit smoother and you gave him a grin. "You can say that."

He didn't need to know that the line he whispered in your ear had stressed you out to your core. It was possibly the hottest thing any man has ever said to you. It was all you could think about by the time you reached your dorm. His voice echoed in the back of your mind causing your body to feel hot.

He didn't need to know the real reason why you were late to dinner.

That you were squirming on your bed, rubbing yourself furiously between your legs. Trying to get all the tension out of your body before having to see him again.

And now you were sitting next to him. The man responsible for one of the best solo sessions in your life.

"I mean, I did have to spend half the day with these three." You gestured to the rest of the group who just booed at you. Eric rolled up a napkin and threw it your way, causing you to laugh.

As you and the group ate and drank, the room was beginning to get louder and louder. It wasn't long until everyone became tipsy.

You just finished cooking up your Galbi and offered it to the rest of the group who everyone, except Chan, declined. You used the tongs to bring it over to his plate before attempting to cut it. "Damn things," you huffed under your breath. The scissors were dull and worn out. Trying to cut through the meat was as effective as slicing a rib-eye with a spoon.

"Here," Chan grabbed the tongs and scissors from your hand. Despite the very brief time that his fingers brushed yours, you couldn't help but blush a bit as he gave you your half. You didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you caught Eric eyeing the two of you. He had his fingers interlaced and resting his head on them.

"You two look cute together~"

"Shut up," you mumble and grab some kimchi to add to your plate.

Chan sat quietly next to you. He plopped some food in his mouth, the best excuse he had to not comment. BM chuckled before pouring another round of drinks. "What did you say to her anyway? Peniel was screaming so loud I couldn't even hear it."

The two of you were sitting so close to one another, that you could feel Chan stiffen next to you. No doubt, wanting to avoid another round of ridicule from his colleagues.

"Awe, jealous he wasn't whispering in your ear instead?"

That snarky reply was all it took for the other two boys to holler and tease the living crap out of him. As the night progressed, soon talk of continuing the party commenced. Chan mentioned he had a free dorm tonight.

"You in?"  Eric asked you. You looked up from your plate of Galbi and rice. You were so distracted by your plate that you didn't realize they were all waiting for your answer. You hesitated. You obviously had this attraction to Chan since the interview. Hell since even before you became a trainee. The frustration of him being so near, mixed with alcohol, might just be the equation for something disastrous.

Chan bit his lower lip while sneaking a glance at you. He knew it was stupid to invite everyone over. To invite you over. He was already feeling the effects of drinking so much, trying to keep pace with everyone. What if he slipped up? Did something that made you hate him?

But then a wonderful thought popped into his mind: What if something amazing happened?

"It'll be fun," Chan gave you his shy grin. Your heart raced as you two locked eyes. How could you say no to that face?

"You got this," you whispered to yourself as you stood in front of Chan's door. It wasn't every day you're invited to a celebrity's apartment. Especially one that you've imagined in bed with when you're stressed out after work. Everyone left in their own taxi after dinner, planning to meet up at Chan's. You stayed a bit behind to make some phone calls to your family overseas, promising that you would be there soon. "Totally normal get-together. Nothing to worry about."

After a couple of seconds, you gather enough courage to knock on the door. A moment or two the door swings open and Chan stands there. God, he looked great with his messy hair, black tee, and joggers. Giving him that ready-for-bed look--

"Wait, were you asleep?"

Chan's face turned red. He was in bed. But he definitely wasn't sleeping.

"They didn't text you? They got a call on the way over, their schedule moved up earlier in the morning so they headed back home."

Oh.

You pull out your phone and groan. "Batteries dead." You just had to make those calls? You knew your mom could talk your ear off.

"Sorry," you put the phone back in your pocket. Taking a step back, you start to head out. "Have a good night."

"Wait!" He couldn't just let you leave. It could be from all the alcohol, but watching you saunter away felt wrong. He wanted you near him. To stay. "It's late... You can charge your phone and call a cab here if you want."

You didn't fight it. You know you should've. Chan was right, it was late. The responsible thing to do would be to go home. But that didn't stop you from sitting on his couch waiting for your phone to charge enough to call your ride. The two of you scrolled through YouTube on his TV, chatting about anything that came to mind as you both sipped on some mixed drinks Chan concocted when you first entered the apartment.

It was weird. Without the others, conversation flowed almost naturally between you two.

"You mean to tell me, you've never watched any of your own fan cams?!" You exclaimed. Chan shook his head and laughed shyly.

"No, it felt weird watching close-ups of myself if that makes sense?"

"You really should, they always look phenomenal!"

You grabbed the remote to scroll through the recommended videos to watch. Chan took the opportunity took look you over for the umpteenth time tonight. Here he was just in joggers and an oversized shirt while you sported a cute long-sleeved crop top and tight jeans. He had to grab the pillow next to him to cover up the bulge he was sporting.

You settled on a music video by RenMakesMusic.  The strum of the guitar had Chan bobbing his head along to the beat. The lyrics were a bit dark but meaningful. "This is good," Chan mused. "Turn it up a bit."

You gladly obliged with a smile, pressing the remote's volume button so his subwoofers would have to do some heavy lifting. Music filled the apartment as the two of you watched the video. You didn't realize it initially, but your shoulder pressed against his. You slowly shifted to your right, to create distance not trying to give him the wrong impression, but were surprised when he leaned back into you. It was comforting.

It was right.

"Everything okay?"

Chan's question broke through your mind wandering. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. "Y-yea, um. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the right."

Chan watched as you made your way to the guest bathroom. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on your backside. Once you disappeared, he leaned further back into the couch and groaned.

What was he doing? Letting you in this late, checking you out when you weren't looking, trying to get any physical contact no matter how little it was. It was stress, it had to be. His schedule has been so hectic lately his body was trying to find relief since his mind was almost running amock. Chan was so lost in thought that he let YouTube play on in the background. Not paying much attention to what was playing.

When you exited the bathroom, you were greeted with bongos and macarenas bouncing through the dorm. Peaking around the corner you spotted Chan leaning against the couch. He had his head back against the rest, his eyes closed. But despite his worn-down posture, he was still tapping his foot to the beat. "Aw, come on--you call that dancing?"

Your voice brought back his focus. His side smile gave you butterflies and you couldn't help but wear your own when he quipped; "Like you know how to dance to this?"

"Alright, Christopher. Get up." You grabbed the remote next to him and turned up the stereo even more. Hopefully, anyone living above or below the apartment wouldn't be able to hear how the bass shook the walls.

His grin widened at the name change. Almost nobody called him that anymore. There was a fine line between 'Chan' and 'Christopher', one that you seemed to be willing to cross.

What else were you willing to do?

Your hand was extended to him as you stood above him from his seat. The gleam in your eye was bright, almost playful. There was this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Bubbly and light. How the light casts around your silhouette made him realize why he felt the way he did when his eyes locked on you.

You were a goddess.

"You just gonna sit there? Come on, get up."

He didn't know what you said, but by the way, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled him from his seat, he knew he was in no position to argue.

You were a tough dance instructor. You corrected almost every misstep in Spanish. He couldn't comprehend your scolding, but he'll be damned to admit that at this point, he was doing it on purpose. There was something incredibly hot about being reprimanded in an unknown language.

"Dear all that is mighty," you sighed. "You're too stiff, loosen up a bit. Here, why don't you take the lead instead."

That caused his brain to malfunction a bit. He stuttered like a middle school kid being asked to dance for the first time. Without waiting for a reply, you grab his hands in yours and guide them on your body.  His hold on your waist was firm, but not too tough. He didn't want to scare you away. Not when he was so close to you he could smell your shampoo. Especially, not when you wrapped your arms around his neck and those eyes of yours were peering into his soul as you two stepped to the fast beat.

"Feel how my hips are moving?"

Oh, you bet he does.

Pushing those thoughts away, Chan tried to mimic your movement. "That's better!" You praised it, and it took everything in him not to press his body flush against yours right at that moment. He hated to admit it, but as the next song played, something with a slower tempo, every step you took with him around the living room, he somehow magically ended up closer to you.

This is the part where both of you could blame the alcohol.

You both were too inebriated to notice the fact that your phone was fully charged, that your fingers started to play with the bottom of his hair, or the fact that your faces were so close together. Chan's forehead rested on yours as the playlist finally died down to a softer ballad. YouTube ironically telling you two to slow down. But neither showing signs of listening.

"We...are going down a path you might regret." Chan closed his eyes to help steady his breathing. How were you able to do this earlier today? He felt like his heart was going to combust on the spot.

"That I might regret?" You whispered. Being this close to him felt surreal. You were sure you were about to wake up in your bed feeling very frustrated. "You won't?"

The feel of the pressure of your body was draining all his excitement from his chest to his dick. Another form of pressure was beginning to press against his underwear. A flood of penance sprung as quickly as his blood flowed to his quickening erection. "We just barely met. We don't know each other."

You pull away slightly so you can look up at him.

"Then, get to know me."

Chan knew this wasn't what you meant. But, it was too late to turn back now.

You were half-naked, a trail of clothes leading to his room.

For every question he asked, an article of your outfit was essentially ripped off you. Every question you answered, you returned the favor.

"Favorite food?" Whoops, there goes that necklace.

"Beef jerky with sticky rice." Goodbye, Chan's shirt!

He kissed you deeply and backed you up towards his bed. A brief pause as you fell into the soft cushions and he stared down at you. Your lips were puffy, chest rising and falling as you were trying to catch your breath. As much as he reveled in the thought of you being a goddess, there was something about bringing down a higher power that made him absolutely feral. Breaking you down bit by bit with every question. 

He climbed on the bed to hover over you, that stupid side smile making another appearance for the night. "That's not exactly a 'food', more of a meal."

"Sorry if I'm--ah. A bit distracted." You close your eyes as he attaches his lips right below your ear. Sucking on your soft skin, not hard enough to leave bruising, but a temporary mark just for his eyes. 

Biting your lower lip, you happily extended your neck a bit to give him more access. Mind all fuzzy and unable to think as he littered your neck with small kisses. Chan gripped your thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting your hips just enough to hold you close to his pelvis,  kneading your thighs through your tights.

"Need you to focus." He nipped softly at your skin. "How else am I going to learn everything about you?

"Favorite position?" His fingers went under the hem of your tights and helped you shed the last outer part of your outfit. Once it was thrown somewhere across his room, you wrapped the leg he was holding up around his back and used what momentum you could gather to push his back on the bed. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your hips as you straddled him.

Your lips were soft and gentle as you leaned in for a kiss, the complete opposite of the intensity shared just moments before. "Don't care, so long as I'm full."

Chan wasted no time by stripping himself of his joggers and boxers on your behalf. Stifling a moan as best as he could once he felt your clothed core perfectly placed on his growing erection.  Guiding your hips to grind against him, he grinned as you threw your head back and sighed in content. Chan rocked his hips perfectly to the rhythm he set against you, providing the much-needed friction you craved.

You were starting to think he was tanking at dancing salsa on purpose.

"Anything off limits?" You couldn't even register that his hands snuck up to undo your bra clasp. He took a second to appreciate the view. Chan couldn’t stop himself from using his forearms to prop himself up to latch onto one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at anything he could grab. The mewls coming from your mouth sounded like a song he never wanted to end. Your hand caressed the back of his head, pressing him closer. 

“Just--mmm. Just don’t stop even if I say so.”

Leaving your breast with a wet ‘plop’, he stared up at you. You could see the usual gleam in his eyes disappear. They became dark, almost predatory. Chan lifted you off so he could be above you again. He traced your skin from the collarbone down to the hem of your underwear. You arched your back at his touch; “Luckily for you--I like begging.”

Your breath hitched. Surely, he could see the wet stain on your underwear by now.

“Any safe words then?”

Last question.

Chan finger slipped underneath the cloth and played with your folds. The way you squirmed underneath him made him want to ruin you more. The chuckle he let out when you tried to squeeze your thighs together made you feel warm all the way down to your core. Chan was quick to use his body to keep you nice and spread. All for him.

“L-lemon…”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you.” Chan slipped the tip of his middle finger in you. “Could you speak up a bit?”

“Pendej--mmmphhh” You couldn’t finish your quip. Chan pushed in further until he was knuckle-deep. His lips hovered over yours as he slowly worked in and out of you. You kept arching and writhing as he continued his ministrations, mouth wide open as you let out silent moans.

“Ah, ah--I wanna hear you.” Once he added in a second finger, you couldn't contain yourself. Moans were spilling out of you like a pornstar. Even when he kissed you, there was nothing to stop the volume you were outputting. “Good job, baby.”

“Oh?” He chuckled as he felt your walls clamp down on him. “Did you like that?”

You couldn't speak as he kept pressing into you, wiggling his fingers against your walls. “C-chan…please…”

“Sorry, what was that?” He teased as he kissed around your collarbone.

“Chan…”

The bastard kept pretending not to hear you. As if he couldn't feel you practically leaking around his fingers and clenching around him like there was no tomorrow. 

You finally had enough.

Grabbing ahold of his face with one hand, you forced him to look at you. His cheeks smashed between your fingers. “Christopher, I swear to God--if you don't fuck me right now I'm taking over.”

Ah, so you did like to be in charge.

With a grin, he gladly ripped off your panties. He pulled away just a bit, taking in your appearance. Wanting to embed it into his brain for any future sessions he might have with himself later on.

He knew he should've grabbed a condom, but the alcohol was still flowing through him and he couldn’t stop himself as he slowly pushed into you. You tried finding words; how big he felt, how full he made you, but all that could come out were whimpers as he groaned and leaned in for another kiss to ease any pain you felt.

The two of you grind against one another. Chan never fully pulled out, keeping himself nice and snug in your warmth. Stretching you out, oh so sweetly.

Chan wasted no time in picking up his thrust as you tapped his shoulder, indicating that he was okay to move. You squeaked as he hooked your knees on his shoulders and leaned down to essentially bend you in half. He was hitting a spot you never felt before; not with previous boyfriends and definitely not with your own toys at home.

“So fucking tight…” Chan hissed as his pace sped up to the point he was jackhammering into you. His lips found their way back to your neck and kept mumbling about how you felt around him. So tight, so warm, just right. His teeth nipped your ear lobe, desperate to grab onto something but knowing he couldn’t mark you up too much. “Is this good, baby? Need it harder, faster?”

When you didn’t respond to him, he slowed down a bit and leaned back to stare down at you. His cock twitched when he realized what was happening.

You laid on the bed; eyes glazed over, mouth wide open, cheeks completely flushed. You knew he was asking you a question in Korean, but the words weren’t forming in your head like they usually do. “Aw,” Chan laughed. “Does it feel that good that you forgot Korean?”

Chan let up on the pressure so his hand can snake its way to your lips. You instantly latch on to his fingers and suck. Your tongue brushes around his tips, tasting the leftover residue of yourself from earlier. Your knees unhook from his shoulder and fall on either side of his waist. A whimper leaves you as he removes his fingers from your mouth and travels down to rub your clit. Still keeping his thrust with his brutal pace.

“Ahhh…wait…” You squirmed and your hand went to grab his wrist. Chan noticed how you didn’t pull his hand away despite your pleas. “Chan, p-please--too much.”

He kept using your body. Chan could feel you clamping down around his length. “Sorry,” he breathed out as he felt the pressure in his balls rising. “You’re just, hmmmph, too perfect.”

That’s what did it for you. The fact that he listened to what you mentioned earlier, and his talk. The crash of pleasure that overcame you was intense. Chan shuddered as he felt your wave around him. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” you came with a cry. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to ground yourself in any way that you could. You were loud. Nothing could stop the curses that flowed out of you as you held him close against you. Chan wasn’t far behind; “Oh, I-I’m gonna--”

He pulled out and stroked his cock rapidly around his head, painting your stomach with his warm cum. Of all the art museums he visited around the world--this was by far his favorite piece of work.

The room was filled with both of your heavy pants as he laid in your arms. Once he was able to catch his breath, Chan pulled away from your embrace placing the gentlest kiss on your lips. Humming as you kissed him back. He tried to get up, but you were quick to stop him.

“Don’t go…” You pouted. Part of you knew this would be a one-time thing, but another part never wanted this to end. Chan smiled down at you and gave your cheek a quick peck.

“I’m just grabbing a towel to clean you off.”

As he walked off to the bathroom you stared down at the mess on your abdomen. The remnants of the best sex of your life were starting to cake on your skin. It took everything in you to not scoop some up and taste him in your mouth. When Chan returned with a wet cloth, he cleaned you up before plopping onto the bed beside you.

Once you caught your breath, reality set in.

Here you were, all fucked out with a colleague in the same industry. Everything told you to leave. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship. It was a rash decision based on a lot of alcohol and dancing. You started to get up, but Chan was quick to wrap his hand in yours.

“You…you don’t have to go…” Chan shifted to lay on his side and stared down to not meet your eyes. Acting all shy as if he didn’t fuck the lights out of you just moments before. Your heart melted at the sight.

Slinking back into bed, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest. His cheek pressed against the top of your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat against you and closed your eyes.

“You know,” you sighed. “This was something I definitely didn’t regret.”

“Me ‘neither.”

As the morning rolled around you woke up to Chan still wrapped around you. His soft snores made you smile. There was something surreal about seeing him so at peace that made your heart flutter. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, Chan shifted slightly and groaned as he stretched a bit.

“Mornin’,” He grumbled but held a smile as soon as his eyes landed on you. Chan wasted no time in pulling you into a kiss. His hands sneaking towards your ass to knead your flesh. His excitement is present against your thigh.

"Somebody's eager," You giggle as he pressed closer to you. Chan smirked as he gently rubbed his morning wood against you.

"You can say that."

"Unfortunately--"

Chan grumbled and hid his face in the crook of your neck. "No, don't say that."

"I was just going to say, that I need some water first." It was true. After all the drinks last night, your head was pounding like never before.

"Okay," Chan smiled and got up from bed to put a pair of boxers on. "Stay put, I'll grab you something to eat too."

Minutes passed as you waited in bed. Surprise overtook you as you heard a pan sizzling and the welcoming smell of home-cooking started to flood the dorm. Dawning one of his shirts, you made your way to the kitchen. Chan's back was to you as he manned the stove. You could see how his back rippled with every movement he made.

You couldn't see it, but a smile crept on Chan's face as he felt you wrap your arms around his midriff. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

"I'm not one for taking orders." You laugh as you hook your chin on his shoulder to peer over him. "Besides," Chan stiffened a bit as he felt your lips hover over his ear. "There's something sexy about a man cooking."

"Oh?" He quickly turned off the stove and turned around to face you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he leaned down closer to your face. "And what about your water?"

It was a frenzy of passion as your lips locked with his yet again. Both of you eager to relive last night in the light of sobriety. "Water can wait," you whisper in between kisses.

Chan easily lifted you, placing you on an open counter. Your legs spread to allow him access to be closer to you. The both of you started to mold into one another as the intensity grows. "I should cook for you more often," He grins as he breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath. He lifted his shirt on you slightly so your cunt was exposed.

"Promise?" You teased as he lowered himself down slightly to bring his lips level to your core. Chan enjoyed the way your head leaned back slightly as you felt his hot breath against you.

"Promise."

The both of you were so entranced with what was about to happen, that you didn't hear the door opening. Only the shrilly scream that bounced around the dorm broke you two apart.

You instantly jumped down from the counter as Chan stood upright, finding protection from behind him. Chan tried using his body to shield your half-naked body from the view of a very frightened Felix.

Not that he really needed too.

The younger member held both hands over his eyes. Groceries bags around him, spilling its contents around the floor.

"Felix?" Chan stuttered as he grabbed a kitchen rag to cover up his erection. "W-what are you doing here?"

Chan gestured for you to run back to the room as Felix was still covering his eyes. You had no hesitation, wanting to escape from the embarrassment. AKA your own personal hell.

"I didn't want you eating alone... I was gonna make breakfast."

Author's Note: Here it is! Please let me know what you think. I'm also open to requests, I really want to get back into writing and interacting more on here. If you'd like to be added to my taglist please interact with this post (linked). Bye~

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[hoshifighting]

gym rat roommate!seungcheol

— WARNINGS: smut, seungkwan accidentally catch you naked (seungcheol's fault), oral (f. receiving), seungcheol cums untouched, ''begging'', reader tries to be unbothered as seungcheol eats her out, mentions of anabolics jokes and etc. — WC: 3.2k

you never thought sharing a dorm with a leo would be this damn exhausting. when you both got assigned to the same room, you thought it’d be fine—no big deal, just another dude trying to get through college, right? wrong. seungcheol is the textbook definition of a gym rat, spending half his life lifting weights, and the other half driving you insane.

“can you not leave your towel on the bed?” you huff, staring at the damp mess he’s made.

“it’ll dry,” he shrugs, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“not the point,” you mutter, tossing the towel into the bathroom.

and then there’s the cabinets. oh god, the cabinets. every time he makes his stupid whey protein shake, it’s like he forgets how to close them. it’s a small thing, but it drives you up the wall.

“are you allergic to shutting doors or something?” you ask, eyebrow raised as you gesture at the open cabinets.

“didn’t realize it bothered you so much,” he says, smirking, which only makes you want to strangle him more.

but the stove? that’s where you draw the line. the dude can wash dishes, sure, but he leaves the stove looking like a battlefield, grease splatters and all.

“seriously, seungcheol, you gonna clean that or what?” you snap, pointing at the mess.

“i’ll get to it,” he replies lazily, which means it’s gonna sit there until you can’t take it anymore and do it yourself.

you two bicker like this all the time, the tension simmering just below the surface. it doesn’t help that he’s constantly complaining about your hair everywhere, or the makeup you leave on the sink when you’re rushing out the door.

“do you shed on purpose?” he grumbles, vacuuming for the third time that week.

“do you have to be such a neat freak?” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

and don’t even get started on the tv. whenever you switch from his boring sports channels to something decent, like a reality show, he acts like you’ve committed a crime.

“i was watching that,” he says, voice low and annoyed.

“yeah, well, this is more interesting,” you retort, settling in for your dose of drama.

the only time you get any peace is when he’s at the gym, and those hours are like heaven. just pure, blissful silence. and for him? the few hours when you’re at your dance classes must be the only moments he’s not silently cursing your existence.

you always wished for a quiet roommate. not that seungcheol was loud—no, he wasn’t a screamer or anything, but his friends? they never left. you couldn't catch a break from the constant parade of guys stomping through your shared dorm like it was their second home. jihoon, one of seungcheol’s quieter friends, was looking for a new roommate at one point, and you almost packed your bags right then and there. the guy was a dream—silent as a ghost and didn’t have a herd of dudes wandering around the place like it was a frat house.

but nope, you were stuck with seungcheol, who never bothered to warn you before letting his friends take over the living room.

and that’s how you ended up in this mess.

seungcheol had left a few minutes ago for the gym, and you were enjoying the peace, taking a long, hot bath. everything was fine until you realized—you forgot your towel. with no one home, you figured it’d be safe to dash to your room and grab it. big mistake.

thinking the coast is clear, you slip out of the bathroom, water dripping off your skin, and make a dash for your room. just as you reach the hallway, freezing your ass off, you hear it—a rustling from the kitchen. before you can even react, seungkwan rounds the corner, a cup in hand, and both of you freeze.

“AHHHHH!”

you both scream like you’ve just seen a ghost, or, you know, each other naked. you bolt for your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

you can hear the guys in the living room getting startled, their conversation cutting off abruptly as seungkwan yells, “don’t come in here! for the love of god, stay put!” you imagine him standing there, one hand clapped over his eyes, traumatized for life—or not lmao.

from the safety of your room, you yell at the top of your lungs, “CHOI SEUNGFUCKING-CHEOL!”

you don’t leave your bedroom until you’re absolutely sure they’ve all left. you can hear them shuffling around, and then, finally, silence. when seungcheol knocks on your door, you yank it open, eyes burning with rage, and immediately start pounding on his chest.

“what the hell did i do?!” he asks, bewildered, as you keep landing blows on him, your fists connecting with his chest repeatedly.

“what the fuck, seungcheol! i’m going to fucking kill you!” you hiss, your voice barely keeping it together.

the boys who are just leaving freeze at the front door, eyes wide, before they scramble to get out, closing the door behind them in a hurry.

“whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” he stammers, trying to catch your wrists, wincing with each hit.

“what’s going on?! you seriously asking me that right now?” you shout, not giving a damn that he’s confused. his clueless expression only makes your blood boil more.

“i wasn’t even here, what are you talking about?” he says, sounding defensive, and it nearly makes you explode.

“you didn’t even fucking bother to tell me your friends were still here! i thought i was alone, seungcheol!” you scream, your voice reaching that pitch where even he starts to look worried. “and now seungkwan’s seen my fucking ass!”

his eyes go wide, shock written all over his face as he stares at you. “wait, what? seungkwan saw you naked?!”

“yes, you idiot!” you practically screech, your face flushing red with embarrassment. “he saw everything, and you’re to blame!”

“alright, alright, calm down,” he says, though his voice is anything but calm. “just… stop screaming for a sec, will you?”

“don’t tell me to calm down!” you snap back, but your hits start to lose their strength. “i can’t believe this is happening. fuck, i’m never gonna live this down.”

“it’s not that bad,” he tries, but you can hear the strain in his voice, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“not that bad? not that bad?!” you glare at him, hands on your hips now, chest heaving. “seungkwan saw my naked ass, seungcheol! you have any idea how fucking mortifying that is?”

he bites his lip, and you can see him holding back something—probably a retort, maybe even an apology. but it doesn’t matter, because deep down, a part of him is seething for a different reason altogether.

“you’re not getting off that easy. i swear, if this ever happens again, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. i don’t care if i have to tattoo a schedule on your forehead, you’re gonna tell me when your damn friends are over!” you snarl, storming back into your room and slamming the door shut, leaving seungcheol standing there, more than a little terrified.

your luck was that seungkwan kept his mouth shut and didn’t tell anyone. he even apologized to you, which, honestly, wasn’t necessary since it wasn’t his fault to begin with. when he showed up at your door, looking sheepish, you waved off his apologies.

“it wasn’t your fault, seungkwan,” you say, sighing. “i don’t even know why you’re apologizing.”

“i know why,” seungkwan mutters, and you catch the way his eyes flicker toward seungcheol, who’s hovering behind him, looking a bit too innocent.

“he made you do this, didn’t he?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at seungcheol.

“are you really gonna scold me in front of my friend?” seungcheol whines, crossing his arms.

“it was your fault,” you and seungkwan say in unison, causing seungcheol to groan dramatically, dragging a hand down his face.

the next few days, you’re still so mad—the embarrassment has lightened, but the irritation lingers. you ignore seungcheol’s existence entirely, which seems to throw him off more than your usual bickering. but the result? the boy falls right into line. cabinets? closed. towels? hung up neatly. the stove? spotless, along with the dishes. it’s like he’s scared to mess up again.

he even starts working out at home, right in the middle of the living room, just so there’s no risk of his friends dropping by when he’s not there. every time you walk by and give him a dismissive huff, he sulks, pouting like a kicked puppy.

“you’re really not gonna talk to me?” he asks one day, mid-push-up, his voice a little too whiny for someone who usually acts so tough.

you don’t even bother to respond, just let out another huff and keep walking.

“come on, y/n, i’m sorry! what do i have to do, beg?” he calls after you, his tone half-joking, half-desperate.

you pause, glancing back at him, his big eyes pleading with you. you almost crack but manage to keep your composure.

you huff, slumping onto the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv. seungcheol scoffs as he watches you, getting up from his spot and kneeling in front of you. you ignore him, your eyes glued to the screen, but you can feel his presence, and it’s hard not to notice how ridiculous he looks, sarcastically begging for forgiveness.

“y/n, come on, forgive me, pleeease,” he drawls out dramatically, hands clasped together like he’s praying, his voice dripping with mockery.

you finally tear your gaze away from the tv, raising an eyebrow at him. “go drink your protein shake, cheol,” you say, your tone dismissive.

he rolls his eyes, placing his hands on your knees, and there’s something in his touch that makes you pause. “okay, okay, for real now. can you please forgive me?”

your eyes drift down to his hands, warm and firm on your kneecaps. he notices the way you’re staring and moves his hands to rest on his thighs, waiting for your response. you stay quiet, taking in the sight of him kneeling in front of you, looking almost vulnerable.

when he thinks you’re going to ignore him again, you finally speak up, your tone dripping with mockery. “do you really want my forgiveness, cheol?”

he hums in frustration, rolling his eyes again, as if he’s bracing himself for another sarcastic remark.

you let a small smirk play on your lips. “then why don’t you make the most of being on your knees, and put that mouth to better use?”

his eyes widen in shock, your unbothered expression leaving him stunned. you can see the gears turning in his head, but before he can even respond, you slowly spread your legs in front of him, your attention casually returning to the tv.

seungcheol nearly freezes on the spot, almost losing his balance as he processes what you just said. but the sight of you, open and inviting, has him swallowing hard, his throat bobbing as he struggles to maintain composure.

he doesn’t know where to start, caught between the shock of your command and the thrill that’s been building up inside him for ages. he hesitates for a moment, then reaches under your dress, his fingers grazing the edge of your panties—the ones he’s already had a peek at earlier. you keep your eyes glued to the tv, acting like you didn’t just ask him to do what he’s been fantasizing about for far too long.

seungcheol’s never been one for preliminaries; that’s just not his style. so instead of teasing, he pushes your dress up, exposing more of your thighs, and hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. his breath catches when he realizes you weren’t prepared for this—you’re not wearing the usual lacy things he often sees in the laundry, and you’re not wet—yet.

his hands are firm under your legs as he spreads them wider, leaning in closer. the anticipation coils in his gut as he spits on your pussy, watching the wetness slowly glide over your folds. you squirm just a little, the sudden sensation making you shift, but your eyes stay focused on the tv, pretending this isn’t affecting you.

the sight of you like this—so casual, so indifferent—only makes seungcheol more determined. he dips his head down, his tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line along your slit, tasting the mix of his spit and your skin. the thought that seungkwan got to see you naked before he did burns in the back of his mind, fueling his movements.

he starts off slow, almost gentle, but the more you keep ignoring him, the harder he goes. his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it hard enough to make you gasp, though you try to keep it quiet. he can feel your resolve slipping as he works his mouth on you, each stroke of his tongue more focused, more intense.

seungcheol’s goal is clear: make you forget about whatever the hell you’re watching on tv and finally give him the attention he craves. he wants to see you fall apart because of him, to know that he’s the one getting you off like this.

he moves one of his hands to your thigh, squeezing it as he bobs his head, sucking your clit harder with each motion. finally, you can’t take it anymore. your head tilts down, and you meet his gaze—his big, dark eyes looking up at you so fucking needy. the sight of him, lips slick with your arousal, head moving rhythmically between your legs, makes your jaw fall slack.

your hand instinctively reaches for his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you grip him tighter, urging him on. seungcheol hums against your clit, the vibrations making you moan, your focus entirely on him now. the tv is forgotten, the show nothing more than background noise as you finally give him what he’s been aching for—your full, undivided attention.

his tongue flicks over your clit—fast, almost unbelievably so—and your body reacts instantly. your back arches off the couch, toes curling, and your grip on the remote tightens. you squeeze it so hard that buttons are pressed at random, the tv screen flashing through channels, the volume going mute, settings changing. but none of that matters anymore. the only thing you can focus on is the way seungcheol’s tongue works against you, driving you absolutely insane.

he grabs your hips, holding you down because you’re squirming too much, trying to grind against his face despite the overwhelming sensation. every time you move, he digs his fingers into your skin, a low groan vibrating against your pussy. your breath comes out in shaky moans, and even though you can barely string words together, you start talking dirty to him anyway.

“f-fuck, seungcheol—y-you're so fucking good at this, fuck—”

your words are laced with moans, stuttering as you try to form sentences. “y-your tongue... oh my god, i hate you—i fucking hate you,” you gasp, but the way you’re grinding into his face tells him otherwise. “i s-swear, you're gonna make me cum s-so fast, you asshole.”

the filthy words spilling from your mouth only fuel him more. he’s close to losing it, just from the sound of you, from the way you’re cursing him out between moans. his tongue flicks faster, relentless, and he watches the way you react, loving the way your body shakes under his control.

“y-yeah, just like that, don't stop—oh, fuck,” you manage to gasp out, your voice rising as he pushes you closer to the edge. he’s so turned on it’s almost embarrassing, the way you’re unraveling beneath him making him throb painfully in his pants. your filthy and breathless talk, your taste and the way youre wetting his tongue more and more, makes him feel like he could cum right there, just from the way you moan his name.

he’s obsessed with the way you’re falling apart, and when you start tugging at his hair harder, he knows he’s got you right where he wants. your head falls back, the tv now nothing but a silent, blurry background, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his tongue, his mouth, the way he’s devouring you like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“god, fuck—cheol, i’m so fucking close,” you moan, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge. he flicks his tongue faster, sucking hard on your clit, desperate to make you cum, desperate to feel the way you’ll fall apart completely because of him.

seungcheol’s hips grind against the corner of the sofa, desperately seeking some kind of friction. when he feels your breath catch, your voice going silent, he risks a glance up and sees you—your mouth open, almost like you’re ready to take him in, and your hand gripping his hair with an iron grip, showing no mercy. the way you’re spasming on his tongue, the tension in your body, it all pushes him closer to the edge.

he lets out a long, whiny moan against you, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and then he can’t help it—his mouth slips from your clit, leaving it throbbing and aching, as his hand rushes down to grab his cock. he presses his thumb against his slit through his sweatpants, feeling the dampness already soaking through. he’s so turned on it’s almost painful, his hips bucking against his hand as he lets out a moan into the soft skin of your thigh.

“fuck, seungcheol,” you pant, spreading your legs wider, acting like you’re not just as turned on by the sight of him falling apart in front of you. “you really came that fast? i didn’t think the gym rat would be such a quick shot,” you tease, your voice dripping with mockery. “what, the anabolics making you weak or something?”

his eyes snap up, and he shoots you a glare, knowing damn well he doesn’t use that shit. “shut the fuck up,” he mutters, trying to sound pissed, but the effect is ruined by the way his voice shakes.

you smirk, your gaze mocking as you look down at him. “then stop whining and get back to work,” you command, your tone sharp. “or do i need to find someone else who can actually handle me?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenches, eyes stabbing you as he leans in again. he bites down lightly on one of your folds, making you jolt and laugh, the sound quickly turning into a moan as he resumes his task.

“that’s more like it,” you say, voice breathy, threading your fingers through his hair again, a satisfied smile on your lips as he starts flicking his tongue over your clit once more.

he grins against you, feeling the vibrations of your moan as you finally let go, focusing entirely on the pleasure he’s giving you. it’s a game for him now, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him, determined to make you lose control all over again. the sound of your laughter + your moans is the only thing he needs, spurring him on as he buries his face between your legs, eager to make you come undone for him, and only him.

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

Rafayel awakening his pretty muse in a rather…pleasurable way.

Rafayel wakes you up as he sees your sleepy figure laying completely on top of him. It isn’t long before his long fingers caress the top of your head affectionately, his hand making its way on your back all the way to your butt, his fingers massaging the soft flesh as they instinctively found their way lower, just on top of your naked and - to his amusement - wet cunt.

His fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they slide up and down your folds, coating themselves with your arousal before Rafayel enters two of his fingers at once. The man perfectly knew your body : your pussy was ready for him and almost begging his fingers to stuff this pretty little hole.

Rafayel’s fingers quickly went faster and faster, small whines escaping your mouth at the pleasant awakening, as your head that was previously resting on top of Rafayel’s chest was now lifting up to look at your boyfriend’s expressions. Despite the slight blush adorning his cheeks, Rafayel looked at you with desire dancing in his eyes, his voice cooing at you as he murmured the next words. The bastard was almost acting like his fingers weren’t currently thrusting in and out of your poor neglected pussy.

« Wake up my precious little baby. Slept well ? », he teases in a sing-song voice and a grin sitting on his pretty lips.

With still heavy eyelids and a gaze full of passion and desire, your mouth spontaneously crash on his smiling lips into a filthy kiss, your tongue messily swirling around his as Rafayel moans into your mouth at the feeling of your cunt spamming around his fingers, making even more of your wetness drip down between his fingers and onto the sheets.

As you break the kiss to pant out of excitement, a string of saliva still connects your swollen lips to his, making your blush increase at the filthy scene.

Though, it only fuel Rafayel’s desire even more as his mouth found yours again, speeding the movement of his fingers in your pussy all the more while the need to see you come undone starts to make his mind hazy, the squelching noises of Rafayel finger-fucking you mingling with the indecent noises of his mouth making love to you.

« Do you hear that, pretty thing ? The sinful yet beautiful sounds you’re making for me ? And only for me, right my precious muse ? », you want to make him shut up, always the one to talk without stopping, blabbering teasing words even now, words that Rafayel perfectly knew were affecting you just the way he desired. So you just mindlessly nod at him, just like a perfect little doll, Rafayel thinks, she’s mine.

When he senses that you’re close, so close that you struggle to keep kissing him back with the way he’s fingering you stupid, he chuckles into the kiss, whispering against your lips encouraging words after his thumb caresses your trembling lips, this time breaking the string of saliva connecting the two of you.

« You’re such a cutie, you know that ? I get to feel your warm pussy barely after waking up and kiss your pretty face that keeps whimpering because of how good I’m making you feel, am I right ? Come on, you can let go now. My precious, perfect girl. »

And you do, you make a mess on his fingers, as you whine and moan against his lips that keeps pressing tiny kisses on yours in a way to ease you through your climax, making your mouth glistening with saliva.

« You’re okay, pretty baby ? »

As the only answer, you press a kiss on the beauty spot on the right side of his nose, your pretty head naturally finding its way back onto his chest as you take some time to breathe. Rafayel can’t help but smile at how hard it will be for you to properly wake up and start the day.

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Big Fish in Gotham Pond

Based off of @saphushia art found here. . I just loved the idea of Tucker not knowing his skill level because he grew up in the boonies

Tucker gets scouted by Wayne Enterprises after he fixes a kid's computer game while in Gotham visiting Danny.

See, Tucker always known he is passable at tech- one has to be when a technology theme ghost is consistently harassing one's best friend- but to be good at something in a small town like Amity Park didn't mean much .

It's a big fish in a small pound sort of deal. That's why he's never put much thought into it. If Tucker were ever to rank himself in terms of school grades, he would say his computer skills were about a C-.

B+ if it was just coding.

His parents also don't think much of his obsession with his PDA or phones. They thought he waste too many hours on them like the rest of his generation.

It didn't matter that Tucker's technology was about five or more years behind his classmates.

The Foley were hard-working people who barely scraped enough for bills. They were never below the property line, but they danced on it often enough that Tucker knew never to ask for unnecessary purchases.

For as long as he could remember, his parents have always worked long and hard hours. He never blamed them for missing so much of his childhood, in fact he was grateful that they worked so hard to keep the roof over his head, but he did miss them.

That's why Danny's house became a haven for him. He was always at the Fenton's place because the loud, wacky family was much better company than the home silence.

Tucker knew that his family's financial situation didn't change how Danny or Sam viewed him. They had his back through tick and thin just as he did for them, but as they got closer to graduation the difference between them became jarring.

Sam had easy picking of what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go. Her parents were so overjoyed that she wanted to go to a university that they didn't even argue about her wishing to major in botanical biochemistry.

She had started house hunting in Star City midway through senior year. Her parents would gift it to her as a graduation present. Sam would live there for the next eight years to finish her degree.

Danny's parents, while somewhat eccentric, were also certified geniuses. Between the two of them, they had five PHDs and were often freelancing for companies when not doing ghost research. They too could send their two kids to college States away with housing not being a issue.

Jazz went to Metropolis to study Physiology. She lived in a small apartment but was doing well off her scholarships and parent's funding. Last he heard, she had a part-time job at the Daily Planet as a research assistant to gain some independence.

Danny wanted to go to Gotham for their engineering program. He, too, had an apartment of his own, with scholarships and equal funding from his parents. He also worked at Wayne Enterprises, but he was a receptionist. He hoped that once he graduated, he could apply for their engineering program

Not Tucker. His family could only help him get into Community College near Amity. He also couldn't afford to move out so he stayed with them, picking up a part time job to help out when he could.

Tucker is a first-generation college student so even though it wasn't much, he loved to see how his parents glowed when telling others their boy was futhering his education. He wanted to do something that paid well- and after years of patching up Danny- he figured nursing would do the trick.

Tucker would do all his basics in the community College, take a break to save up some money and then move on to the bigger schools.

The day of the graduation felt bittersweet. Team Phantom was finally adults, finally starting out in the real world, but while Danny and Sam moved on to bigger and better things, Tucker knew he would be left behind in little no-where Amity Park.

He never brought it up, but he felt a small dosage of envy the last day of summer before his friends finished packing and left.

Despite both being gone, Tucker had little to no social life even though they called, texted, and emailed often. His days blurred between class, work, and home. Even then, classes were long and tedious, work often ending with one or more customers screaming in his face to try and get free food.

His parents quickly started to nag that he should find a wife as they had married young. They couldn't figure out why he didn't want the same, even though he had no social life again.

Life became dull.

Tucker's only sparks of joy were playing online with Danny and Sam - when they found the time to log in or re-coding his old tech to try and salvage it whenever it broke down.

Soon, it became apparent that Tucker was slowly lacking motivation when he started skipping classes to sleep in and started feeling anxious when he needed to clock in for shifts.

It leads to him barely getting out of bed.

He felt horrible about it, thinking his parents sacrificed so much for him only to have him throw away the opportunities they gave him, and the cycle of not being able to get out of bed would start all over again.

It was Danny who caught on, and all but begged Tucker to come to Gotham for a weekend. He even sent money over for the plane ticket.

Tucker couldn't have gotten on that plane fast enough. He arrived early on Friday since the tickets were cheaper- and Uber over to WE headquarters to pick up Danny's keys as they agreed.

That way, Tucker could sleep and rest in the apartment while Danny worked.

Danny would finish his shift and have the weekend plus Monday and Tuesday off to spend with Tucker. When he arrived, Danny was helping a school check in for a field trip, so Tucker sat down to wait.

Next to him, a kid was growling at his laptop, frankly typing and moving his fingers over the computer's touch mouse. Tucker accidentally glimpsed his screen when the kid started swearing in a different language.

It looked like a shooting game but his lag was bad. By the time the boy pressed the buttons to have his little drone move the other flying things he was chasing were flipping though the air and out of his shooting rage.

It sucked when that happened, and since he was using WE free wifi for guests, it was probably the game. The graphics were badass, though. Seemed almost real.

"Hey try updating the system" He tells the kid after seeing the boy once again lag so bad he missed his shot.

Green eyes swing to him drenched in rage. Which yeah, Tucker knows how frustrating that could be.

"Did I ask for your help!?" The boy snaps, his words lined with an upper-class accent. Made sense since he was wearing a Gotham Academy uniform like the rest of the large school group. "Why are you even looking this way, peasant?"

"No, sorry. I just noticed the lag." Tucker raised his hand, slightly amused at the peasant insult. "I thought I could fix it for you."

The boy's face spams, "You believe you have the ability?"

"Ugh sure? I can try?"

"Here. Be quick. The fate of this city's air defenses depend on it" the boy turns his lap top to him and Tucker blinks.

Okay. So fix the game. He can do that.

And he does, quickly opening the code, analyzing the control and commands , he gets it running properly in less then twenty minutes. The boy seems utterly shock but he quickly takes control of the game and shoots down all the escaping ninjas from the sky.

"Thank you." The boy says with no more tense in his shoulders. Then he closes his laptop and dissappears with the crowd of students.

Tucker thought the kid was a cute.

Danny hands him the keys not long after and he leaves.

Never was he aware of the Boy being Damian Wayne and that the game was not a game but a actual defensive drone system that was fighting off the League of Assassins.

He only finds out how important those two facts are when Danny gets a call from Tim Drake asking if he could pass along Tucker's information because the CEO wanted him on staff as soon as possible..

Both nineteen-year-olds lost their minds after getting the call, screaming at each other in ghost shrieks of glee. They called Sam to let her know- and have her lawyers look over the contact Tim Drake sent just to make sure it wasn't a big-time company trying to screw him over.

He went to an interview three days later. He faced Tim Drake, the current seventeen-year-old CEO, Leo Noir, the current head of HR, and Jessica War, the current head of computer services. They asked him many questions about himself- some of which he felt he had answered terribly- then had him take a computer test.

Tucker thought it was busy work, so he quickly breezed through it. He fixed the problem in many of the coding for various programs, adding his flare to the final product, and after thanking them for their time, went out into the lobby.

He hadn't even reached the door before Jesssica ran after him, offering him the job. Apparently, the first two problems they had him do was the busy work. Tucker had thought they were the ones to let him get comfortable with the coding program.

Like a tutorial in video games.

The other seven were actual issues; many of their latest cellphone products failed. Tucker had solved them in an hour, which had taken the actual team of coders about a month.

"Nitey one dollar and thirty-five cents an hour," Tim tells him tapping the hiring contact. "It would be eighty hours every paycheck. You can work here or at home. Full Benefits. What do you say?"

Tucker's jaw drops. "When do I start!?"

He calls his parents to tell them he will be staying in Gotham with Danny. He tries to explain what had happened but it was all so fast that he can only babble about certain parts.

They tell him not to worry about explaining because they understand how much this means to him.

His parents help pack everything for him and when he flies back for it they, offer him hugs and support. Tucker is so glad they aren't mad.

"I sort of knew it was coming," His dad laughs. "You and that Fenton boy have always been inseparable."

"I did the same thing, you know," His mom says, wiping tears from her eyes but smiling all the same. "I moved with your father states away with little to no plan when I turned twenty too. Drove your grandfather mad."

He loves them both so much. He promises to send money- disregarding their denials- and flies back to Gotham, where Danny has opened his apartment until he gets enough for his own place.

He plans on renting a house with three bedrooms, one for him, one for his office, and another for Danny, as soon as he can. He wants to pay his friend back for everything he did and Danny deserves a bigger living space.

And for once, he'll not have to worry about money!

For once, life is looking up!

(What Tucker is unaware of, is that his parents think he moved to the big city to be with his childhood best friend turned recent lover. They don't know that the money he is sending home is from his own payroll and not Danny's. They think he's a stay-at-home husband.

Tucker is also unaware that the Bats are closely watching him in case he goes rogue. They have been slowly "causally" running into him in the city and breaking into his place to check for supervillain activity.)

[f1fantasys]

Lando, you and some other friends are spending the weekend with hiking and camping. But being the clumsy one you kinda slipped and hurt yourself. Lando offer to help you to go back to the tent and you just innocently ask him to massage your feet. At first it’s just an innocent act and Lando purely wants to help as a friend. Until you accidentally moan and it turns him on and the massage is not so innocent anymore. He then promise you it’s just a tip but well… all men do is a lie 😜

TIP-SY

Warnings - explicit smut 😇

Note - this pic has made me FERAL.

F1 summer break meant a parade of different experiences and getaways. As a presenter for Sky, you were quite close to some of the drivers. Lando, in particular, was one of your favorites, though he doesn't know that. You wouldn't say you were close to him, but you'd now been on a fair share of getaways with him and other mutual friends, and it was safe to say that there was an ever-growing sexual tension between he two of you.

The tension met new heights when you went on a ski-trip in Finland last winter break. You'd often catch each other staring at one-another for far too long, share lingering touches, and dance closely with wandering hands while partying, flirting shamelessly through the days and nights. Your mutual friends always teased you both about when you would finally jump each other - anyone could see the pull that gravitated you towards each other, so it was just a matter of time until the line was crossed.

Right now, you both together with Max and P and Arthur and Jade were out at a secluded resort, camping and hiking for 5 days.

Of course since the other two pairs were couples, it meant you and Lando had to share a tent. Probably the push you needed to be honest, so you weren't complaining one bit because god, you wanted him in ways that would be sinful to say out loud.

You'd arrived this morning and had set out for a hike straight away. Thanks to the gods above, you were clumsy. You were walking in front of Lando when you missed a stone and tripped over it, hurting your ankle while doing so.

''Fuck y/n'' he said, rushing to help you up. ''You okay?'' he asked, but his worry faded away when he saw you chuckling to yourself.

''Yeah good, just little miss clumsy, tripped over a fucking tiny stone'' you said, taking his hand to help you stand up.

You thought you were ok, and even managed to walk another 5 minutes until you decided that you were actually not okay, and wanted to head back to the camp.

Lando, being ever the gentleman, literally hoisted you up and threw you over his shoulder to take you back.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, but you gave you no room for argument. Instead, being a cheeky bugger, he playfully smacked your ass before resuming homage on your thighs for the walk back. You were thankful you were facing the opposite direction, so he couldn't see the blush forming on your face.

Once you got back to the tent he gently placed you on your bed.

''Relax. Gonna get us some water and find you an ice pack. Need anything else?'' he asked.

'''I'm good. Thank you Lan, really for bringing me back'' you sincerely told him, your hand lingering with his for longer than it should have before you pulled away and he walked out of the tent.

''Fuck'' you thought to yourself. You were definitely in too deep.

Lando returned not 10 minutes later with a handful of snacks and drinks.

''Lando did you buy the whole supermarket?'' you asked teasingly.

''Oi, I wont share if you tease me like that!'' he said, dropping everything on your bed and smiling at you.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in for a desperate kiss but you held yourself back.

''So there were no ice packs but I did find this ointment, says to massage it in gently'' he said, sitting down and lifting your feet onto his lap, taking you by surprise.

''Oh you don't have to, I'll do it'' you said, already sitting up and moving your legs out of his hold but his strong hands stopped you from breaking free.

''You're not saying no to a free foot massage, are you?'' he asked. ''One time offer, by the way'' he finished, winking at you.

It wasn't worth arguing further, so you stuck your tongue out at him and said ''fine,'' relaxing back again.

His touch was gently but it felt oh so heavenly, and without realizing it you let out an involuntary moan as you felt the pleasure rip through your body.

He chuckled, though he didn't find it funny one bit. His mind was racing as to what other noises you would make and if they'd sound as good as you just did.

''Feel good?'' he asked.

''Hmm yeah, never better'' you said, eyes closed and smiling.

Lando couldn't get your noise out of his head, and he felt his dick growing harder with each second that past.

A few minutes later you moaned again, and that was his breaking point.

''Y/n'' he said, in warning.

Your breath hitched as he said you name. You cleared your throat and mumbled an apology.

You looked down at him and took a deep breath in. His eyes were shades darker than they were before and he was looking at you with such an intensity.

''Lan'' you cooed, not sure what you wanted him to say or do.

He gently placed your feet back down on the bed and hovered above you, putting all his weight on his hands instead of your body.

Your eyes stayed glued to one another's until he finally stooped low and captured your lips in a swift movement.

You instantly bought your hands to his face, cupping it as he lowered his body so you could finally feel him.

The kiss was messy and desperate, spit already running down both of your chins'.

You moaned again and he pulled back only to whisper ''you don't know what that fucking does to me y/n,'' before he leaned down again and quickly slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring it.

You pulled at his curls which had his moaning in return, smiling through the kiss.

His lips left yours and moved down to your neck, very quickly finding your sweet spot where his bit and sucked at it then soothed it with his tongue.

''Lan'' you said, begging him for more.

''I know babygirl'' he said, his hand snaking down and slipping past your leggings to your core - which was dripping wet by now.

He pulled his head up to look at you again. ''So fucking wet. For me, yeah?'' he asked.

''For you'' you whimpered as your felt him slide his fingers through your folds.

He found your clit and immediately assaulted it bu pinching at pulling at it. By now your moans were obscene, the feeling of his hand down there stimulating to your core.

''More, Lan'' you begged again, biting down on your lower lip before pulling his face back to yours so you could kiss him again.

With ease, he slid two fingers through your entrance at once. Your back arched off the bed and your nails dug into his biceps.

You whimpered again as he set a quick pace, thrusting in and out of you and curling his digits at just the right time to tap the spongy spot inside of you.

''So tight, fuck you're gonna feel amazing around me'' he whispered, adding a third finger to the mix.

You couldn't help but moan at the thought of finally fucking him, but you needed to calm yourself down before getting ahead.

His lips were back on your neck now and you leaned to the side to give him better access, lightly biting at his biceps.

He sped up his pace and you soon felt the all too familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

''I'm close'' you coxed out, breathing increasing.

''Do it'' he mumbled. ''Let it out.''

Lando made his thumb brush against your clit with each thrust and in no time you were releasing all over his fingers, moaning his name through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut.

You panted through your breaths, expecting him to slow down and ride you through your orgasm but if anything, he sped up even more.

''I know you have more in you, come in, y/n'' he said, hiding his head in the crook of your neck and nibbling on your ear.

Your breath hitched again. ''Lan'' was all you were able to get out, and not two minutes later you were gushing all over his fingers again, your throbbing pussy clenching around them which had him moaning with you.

''Fuck'' you let out a breath as he slowed his fingers and pulled them out of you.

He pulled back, looking at you again and took his digits into his own mouth, sucking him clean and moaning at the taste of you.

''My new favorite flavor'' he said, smirking, before kissing you again.

He pulled back for a second to remove you t-shirt, ridding is as well before returning his lips to yours.

Your hands explored his muscle-clad body, internally moaning at how hot he was - physically and mentally.

His hands also roamed your body, stopping at your boobs and giving them a few squeezes before sliding them under your bra and pinching at your nipples.

The action had your back arching, digging your nails into his skin.

Your mind was racing at 1000 miles per hour, trying to catch up to what was happening. A feel of joy and euphoria overwhelming you.

Lando took your bra off completely and you didn't miss the way he licked his lips when he looked at them.

He roughly took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked and bit at it, earning breathless moans from you as you pulled on his hair, edging him on.

''Fuck, yes, please'' you moaned.

''So fucking perfect angel'' he whispered, rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

He continued his onslaught for a while until you started ti grow impatient. You pussy was desperate, clenching around nothing.

''Lando please'' you begged him. He quickly notes that he loved it when you begged him.

He finally sat back on his knees and looked at you, though the expression you had on your face was not one he was expecting to see.

You weren't looking back at him with lust and desperation, instead you looked confused and constricted.

Rewind - just as you had begged him for more, your mind caught up to what was happening and something clicked. You liked Lando, too much, and you didn't want just a quick fuck.

''Baby?'' he asked.

''Lan, ugh, fuck. I like you too much for just a one time fuck'' you said, slightly shy at your confession and use of words.

His eyes grew wide and he couldn't help but chuckle a sarcastic one.

''You seriously think I want just a fuck from you? Really y/n?'' he questioned.

''I-I'' you started but he cut you off.

''You're fucking blind if you think I don't like you and want to be with you for something real. Fuck y/n you're the most amazing person, and yes i want to fuck you senseless right now, but i want to fuck you senseless everyday, and after that I want to clean you up and cuddle with you and fall asleep with you, and wake up with you!''

Words had left your brain by now so instead you just pulled him down for a feverish, passionate kiss. ''I want all that too'' you said between pecks at his lips the both of you smiling.

Just as Lando was about to pull your leggings down again you stopped him, again.

He pulled back and gave you a questioning look.

''Lan fuck we can't do it now like this, in a tent in the middle of nowhere!'' you blurted out.

''You're joking, right?'' he asked, unable to keep a smile a bay.

You tried to keep a stern face but failed miserably as he ignored you and took your leggings off.

''I'm serious! We can't have our first fuck like this''

Lando groaned. ''Ugh, ok, how about this - just the tip''

''Huh?'' you asked.

''I just let my tip enter you, for now, until your 'content' with the perfect date'' he reasoned.

You took a few seconds to think. You were so desperate for him, but at the same time you were so desperate for everything to be perfect, so maybe him inserting just his tip was a win-win.

''Okay fine'' you said, palming him through his shorts.

His own breath hitched as you pulled down his shorts and freed his aching dick.

You'd always suspected he'd be big. But not this big. You were speechless, thinking how the hell he was gonna fit in you. It stood tall and angry, begging for attention, with precum already dripping out the slit at the top.

''Easy,'' he said, seeing you thinking at a million miles per hour. ''I'll take care of you'' he whispered.

You nodded you head and he settled above you again. He slid his cock through your wet folds numerous times, often stopping at the clit to push against it, as he kissed you for the hundredth time today.

''Please, need you'' you mumbled.

And finally, he entered you. Just feeling his tip was a sore enough stretch, but it felt fucking amazing.

He slid out and pushed in again, hands on your hips to hold you still while your nails were digging into his neck muscles.

''Fuck baby, so tight'' he said, breath faltering each each movement.

''Lan you're so fucking big, feels so good'' you managed to mumble, pulling his lips down to yours for a feverish kiss.

A few thrust later, Lando's eyes turned shades darker. ''Y/n, i need you you. All of you, please'' he begged.

You knew what he meant because you wanted him just as much, and just as you started saying ''Ye-'' yes to him, he bottomed out, thrusting his whole dick into you.

You had no time to react, your breath getting caught into your throat as he was fucking into to at a relentless pace.

''Shit, how are you so fucking tight y/n, feels so good'' you said through gritted teeth.

''Hmm Lando. Fuck. Please. Harder. Give me more'' you begged him again, the pleasure fully taking over the pain and every time you shut your eyes you swear you could see stars.

His face was close to yours, breath mingling with yours and as he tightened his grip on your waist, surely leaving bruises for tomorrow, while you wrapped your legs around him as tight as you could, nails now stretching at his back.

You weren't surprised to already feel the warmth in your stomach building up. ''Lan I'm close'' you warned as he bought his fingers to toy with your clit.

The noises in the tent were obscene, and if anyone were to walk past they'd surely hear both of your pornographic moans and slick bodies slamming each other.

''Let it out'' he said breathlessly, lips violently sucking on your nipples as you pulled on his hair as hard as you could.

In no time you body was shaking underneath him, your juices gushing all over his dick and dripping out of you.

'Fuck me, Lando'' you moaned his name over and over again, praising him.

He didn't slow his movements, instead he quickened his pace further, chasing his own orgasm now as you felt his dick start to twitch and his movements become careless.

''So proud of you, taking me so well. Fucking waited for this day for too long. Not gonna get you go now y/n, you're too fucking amazing'' he said through grunts and moans.

hearing him say that tipped you over the edge again, violently releasing around him again. You let out a series of moans and closed your eyes, rolling them to the back of your head.

''Gonna cum, where do you want it?'' he asked, though you were too fucked out to say anything back.

''Y/n, tell me. Fuck I can't hold on anymore'' he all but shouted through gritted teeth.

''Ug, fuck, in me. Cum in me, please'' you finally said.

He bit down on your shoulder as you felt him shoot sheets of warm cum to paint your walls, his body shuddering above yours, now praising your name.

Finally he slowed his movements and settled still, still inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his back and held him as tight as you could as he settled his weight on you.

You both tried to catch your breaths, unable to move or say anything but just content to be in each others' arms.

Lando's head was nestled in your hair while yours was just in the perfect position to leave kisses on his shoulder.

He finally pulled his head up after some time and gave you a sheepish smile. He looked handsome as ever, and his curls were stuck to his forehead with a thin sheet of sweat that was dripped down his neck.

You couldn't help but lean up and lick the sweat that was dripping off.

Lando moaned again/ ''Úgh y/n, you're incredible. That was amazing'' he cooed, pecking your nose and looking back at you.

You decided you had to tease him a bit. ''You said 'just the tip!' what happened to that?'' you asked, chuckling so he'd know you were only playing him.

He raised a brow. ''How can i not give you a good fuck when you're here looking all pretty and making the best sounds from your mouth?'' he questioned back causing you to blush.

''Ugh, okay but you still owe me a romantic dinner'' you replied.

''Deal. You're mine now'' he said, kissing you again.

A/N - this was sooo much fun to write! Please send more requests!!

These pics though 😮‍💨