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yieldtotemptation · 2 months ago

Text

RITUAL ft. Yujin

yujin x male reader smut

7k words

Let’s be clear: you’re well aware of what a monumentally stupid idea this is.

For you, it’s just a job. You’ve been fired from plenty before, and there will be plenty more after.

But for her, for Yujin, it’s her career. Her life. Her everything.

And yet, here, in the cramped confines of a bathroom stall, your hand on her ass and hers diving down your jeans; you can’t let go of the nagging suspicion that maybe that’s the fucking point.

“How much time do we have?” Yujin’s lips are on your neck, tiny, hot breaths tickling your skin, nimble fingers at your waist, negotiating with your zipper.

“We had fifteen minutes, an hour ago,” you remind her. “We’re gonna miss soundcheck.”

“It’ll be fine.” Yujin’s unbothered, dismissive of anything that isn’t freeing your cock from its denim prison. “They’ll wait for me. They always do.”

There’s that hint of arrogance, that unshakeable confidence of youth, the invincibility that comes with being that absurdly hot. You can’t blame her at all for it.

What Yujin wants, she gets. You've seen it first hand.

It’s one of the many things you’ve learned about her over the past few weeks.

Well one of the few that don’t concern how good her cunt feels when she rides you, or how her eyes roll to the back of her head when you hit that spot just right, or the way her voice goes hoarse when she screams your name.

“Oh, it’s so perfect.” Yujin’s seen your cock before, tasted it, taken it, had it in every way possible (in every place available), yet that still doesn’t stop her eyes from lighting up the second she sees it springing out from the waistband of your briefs, standing tall and throbbing painfully. “I’d say this is worth being late for.”

You’ve got a groan for her when she takes you into her hand, her grip firm and familiar. A half-hearted protest, too: “Yeah, but if we’re late, Princess Yujin gets a slap on the wrist, whereas I get fired.”

Yujin scoffs at that. “Well, I am your boss, so I think I get the last say if it comes down to it.”

Part of you wants to correct her, wants to explain that technically you’re not her employee but an independent contractor hired by the touring company. However, that part of you needs to shut the hell up, because the intricacies of employment contracts for musicians-for-hire really don’t seem pertinent at this moment.

Regardless, it all becomes trivial in the face of Yujin. So annoyingly, unfairly pretty, not even the unflattering harshness of the bathroom lights are capable of marring her in the slightest.

You’d probably give her the world if she asked.

She’d happily settle for your dick.

Her hand’s moving now, her fingers dancing around your shaft, exploring the contours of your cock from base to tip, and she's forcing you to resign, “Your logic, as always, is flawless.”

“See?” Yujin smiles up at you, that wide, confident grin that’s graced a million posters, been on every magazine cover and TV channel, and is now laser focused on you. “I’m always right, aren’t I?”

Her point's made with a squeeze around your length, stroking you in earnest, building to a rhythm that’s become so familiar over the past week—quick and precise, dangerously efficient. Like she was made for this. Made to tease your cock. As natural for her as breathing, really.

Yujin’s had plenty of practice, after all—on the morning of every concert, in the evening back at her hotel, on tour buses and in dressing rooms. On a plane once, even. It's the same torrid routine that’s now become a required pre-show ritual. A quiet spot, a secluded room, and she steals you away, bringing you to the brink and back.

And to think it all started because she asked you to help her ‘calm her nerves’.

Or more correctly, fuck all the worries and concerns out of her pretty little head.

Still, she's never pushed it this far, never cut it this close.

You lean back against the stall door, your breath catching in your throat, the cheap plastic giving slightly under the pressure. Outside you can hear it, hear the bustling sounds of the venue coming to life—staff moving about, the distant roar of fans, the occasional clang of sound equipment. But in here, it’s overpowered by the noisiness of her palm sliding along your shaft, slick with her saliva, and it fills the small space, echoing across the cold tiles beneath your feet.

She’s undeniable—you know you’ve spoilt her. You’ve let her get her way with you far too many times, let her push this arrangement past any semblance of professionalism. Let her poison your mind with whispered sweet nothings that have you pounding her into the nearest available surface whenever she gets a twitch of stage fright.

But you’re also acutely aware of the fact that without these moments, without the promise of her tight, wet cunt wrapped around your cock, you’d be out there on that stage sleepwalking through just another concert with nothing but a drum kit and a bunch of songs you could play with your eyes closed.

“Fucking hell, Yujin, you look too good doing that,” you manage to get out, doing your best to endure her fingers gliding along your length, to last under the microscope of Yujin's dark, hungry eyes.

Another thing about Yujin: there's a special thrill she gets just from watching you, eyes glued to your face, taking in every single nuance of agony she’s wringing out.

“So fucking—” you settle on the most obvious word in your lexicon, “pretty.”

Yujin keens at the praise, her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, her teeth grazes the soft skin of her bottom lip. It's hardly new for her to hear this, to have people rave about how she's the hottest piece of ass this side of the equator. Yet there's something about hearing it from you that has her eating up your words every time. "Am I, now?"

You nod, voice momentarily failing you as she pumps your cock, her grip never wavering, never faltering, like she’s milking you, milking words of adulation from your lips.

You still haven't pinned down exactly what it is about you that unwinds Yujin, that makes her chase you so hard. Maybe it's because you're slightly older, a touch more mature than the usual plastic smiles that try to charm her out of her pants.

Or maybe it's because you said 'no' the first time she sniffed in your direction, and then made her scream 'yes' every time after.

Whatever it is, it has Yujin’s other hand reaching up to fiddle with the choker at her neck, flooding your mind with memories of your hand around her throat, her gagging on your length, her eyes watering while you fuck her face.

“And what about this outfit?” She asks, oh-so-innocently. “You think the fans will like it?”

“Yujin,” you say, like she doesn’t already know the very obvious answer. You’ve seen her in it all—tiny hot pants, tight little bralettes, that fucking leather catsuit. Yujin’s a fucking goddess in anything she wears, even a blind man would burn from the sheer heat radiating from her body. “You look fucking incredible, as always.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

“I heard a ‘but’,” Yujin ponders, her hand still working your cock like it’s her favourite toy. “Like: ‘but the shorts are too short, and everyone’s gonna see my cheeks when I bend over’.”

A blatant invitation to take a glance, to look down, down at those denim shorts so tight against her curves, the fabric stretched so taut that it might split open at any moment. Look down at her thick thighs, the way they flex and release as she jerks you off, every movement making the material cling tighter to her skin, moulding themselves around the outline of her perfect, round ass, those juicy cheeks that you’ve had the honour of spanking and biting and bruising.

“Or is it: ‘but your top is cut too low, your tits are gonna spill right out’?”

She’s drawing your gaze upwards, over that smooth, creamy expanse of skin, her stomach flat and toned, up the thin fabric of her flimsy excuse for a shirt, that dips just enough to tease the tops of her breasts, squeezed together and pushed up by her bra. It's so thin, wrapped so tight around her, highlighting the faint outline of her nipples poking through, already stiffened and calling for your tongue.

“Or maybe it’s: ‘the outfit looks good, looks nice and slutty, but you’d much rather rip it off me and just fucking ruin me like I deserve?'"

Yeah, that’s more like it.

You take that as permission, and reach for the hem of her top, eager to finally see those tits, to feel their warm weight in your palms, to have her stripped and laid bare like she knows you’d love to. But Yujin’s too quick, slapping your hand away with a laugh.

“But unfortunately, there’ll be none of that, drummer boy.” Yujin stops, her grip on your cock tightening for a brief, painful second. “Can’t have you ruining my outfit before I go on stage, can I?”

There’s a challenge there, a test to see if you’ll argue, maybe grab her, throw her against the wall and show her just how little of a fuck you give about anything that takes place outside of this toilet stall. But you know she’s right. You're the adult here, remember? Besides there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

You settle for her lips, leaning down, pressing the pad of your thumb against her chin. You tilt her head up towards yours, only for Yujin to pull back, leaving you kissing air. “Seriously?”

Yujin grins, clearly delighting in denying you again, in making your blood boil and cock throb. “Can’t ruin the make-up either,” she explains, making sure to bat her long, fake lashes for extra effect.

“So, I take it that means the pigtails are off limits too?” You ask, idly toying with the ludicrously slutty hairstyle that’s framing her face, bobbing slightly with every stroke she gives you.

“Now you’re learning.”

So, with a frustrated grunt, you keep your hands at your sides, resigning yourself to Yujin’s sweet torture. It’s maddening, just standing there, panting and so horny, at the mercy of Yujin’s slow strokes. “And no concern for my outfit, whatsoever.”

Yujin’s eyes wander over your choice of clothing, and laughs, rather insultingly, if you're honest. “I’m sure all the fans will be very focused on the drummer’s fashion choices,” she says, trusting you to pick up on the sarcasm.

You feign injury. “Ouch, I put a lot of thought into my clothing.”

“Sure you do. Thoughts like: how easy will it be for your little fuck buddy to tear them off?” Yujin’s thumb finds that sensitive spot just beneath the head of your cock, swiping over it with a smugness that’s both infuriating and incredibly hot.

“You’re going to get it later for that one,” you warn, your hand curling into a fist.

“Oh, I know.”

Yujin picks up the pace, her hand a blur, running up and down your shaft, fingers sliding across your slit, smearing the pre-cum that’s beaded there over your cockhead. And there’s a glint in her eye, that needy look that tells you she’s getting off on this, getting off on having you, having someone she shouldn’t be left alone with, squirm and beg and be so desperate for her.

“Look how big you are for me, daddy.”

There’s that word, that sweet, sweet ‘daddy’.

The first time she called you it was an accident, a slip of the tongue during a particularly intense moment when you had her against the window of her hotel, tits squashed against the glass, cunt dripping with your cum. But every time since, it’s been deliberate, calculated, a button she knows she can push to make you give it to her as rough as she wants; as rough as she craves.

“Look how big you are in my tiny hand.” She’s got you moaning now, melting between her fingers, bucking your hips for that extra bit of friction. “You love it when I jerk you like this, don’t you, daddy?”

‘Daddy’ again, rolling off her tongue like a fucking love letter, a song to send your head spinning and your cock pulsing in her hand.

There’s another challenge, can you last a little bit longer? Can you resist the urge to cum all over her fingers? Paint her pretty nails a fresh shade of white? Or would you rather wrap your hand around her lovely neck and force her to admit that she loves all this just as much as you do.

You swallow down the groan that’s building in your throat, your teeth grinding together to maintain some semblance of control. Yujin catches it, sees the effort it’s taking you, and she shakes her head, her lips pursed in a perfect little pout.

“Don’t hold back, daddy,” Yujin's chiding you, disappointed with your restraint. “I want to hear it. I need to hear how good it feels, how desperate you are. Need you to show me just how much you want to see me filled with your cum.”

She twists her hand down on your cock, squeezing when she reaches the base, her other hand coming down to cup your balls, tickling them with her fingers. That has a moan escaping your lips, a low, desperate sound that makes Yujin preen.

“That’s it,” she’s overjoyed, getting what she came for, basking in your pleasure, “tell me how much you want it, tell me how much you want to cum for me.”

And so you do. You tell her, your voice strained with the effort of keeping your orgasm at bay. Not yet, not until you’re deep inside her, not until you're sure that not a single drop will go wasted. “You're too fucking much, Yujin, too fucking hot,” you manage, the words a choked noise that you hope she can hear over the blood pounding in your ears. “You’re driving me fucking mad.”

Yujin’s strokes keep building, one on top of the other, and she’s pressing herself against you, the warmth of her, soft breasts pushing into your chest, her lips sucking at your neck, kissing into you hard. After all, who will notice? Who gives a fuck if the drummer shows up on stage with a few extra bruises on his skin?

You fall into the crook of her neck, your forehead on her shoulder, as her lips make their way up your throat, across your jaw, until she’s nipping at your lobe, whispering in your ear, “You’re desperate for my cunt, aren’t you, daddy? You want to fill me up right before I go on stage?”

“Yujin,” you grit out, and you’re holding her, hands on those perfectly round cheeks, holding on for dear life, pulling her close to you so that she can feel just how right she is. The words spill out of you like a confession, “I need to fuck you now, Yujin. I need to feel your cunt, make you cum so hard you won’t be able to fucking move, let alone dance.”

And Yujin leaves one last, lingering kiss on your pulse. “So do it, daddy.”

Her words are a fucking gunshot, and you’re off to the races.

You spin her around so fast she yelps, your chest to her back, your cock trapped between her ass cheeks. Her shorts are barely an inconvenience, yank them down, denim catching on her hips, sliding down to her ankles, leaving her in just her panties.

Yujin gasps, the cool air meeting her bare skin, and she braces herself against the wall of the stall, needing something to keep her on her feet. She’s all soft curves and sweet smells, so insanely proportioned, like she's built for this, curvy and thick in all the right places.

While she’s distracted you sneak a kiss onto the creamy-white skin of her shoulder, hard enough to give her a mark to match yours, a badge of honour that brands her in the same way she’s done to you.

Her panties never stood a chance, completely drenched to the point of ruin, sticky with anticipation, snug against her lips. You pull them aside, thumb brushing against her swollen clit, making her hips jerk forward. She’s on your time now, you’ve got the green light to turn the tables and drag her through the same torment she’s put you through.

“Look at this,” you’re in her ear now, taunting, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Yujin’s cheeks burn red, and she’s pushing back against you, grinding her ass into your cock. “Of course I am. I can’t help it,” she’s a little breathless, a little shaky, “I need it.”

“You’re so beautiful,” your hands like magnets on her bare ass, squeezing, marking her in places only you'll ever know. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” Yujin whimpers, as you slide your finger down, between her legs, tracing her wet slit, testing her tightness, feeling her warmth, feeling how ready she is. “Please, fuck me now.”

You can’t resist her, you never can, not with so little time left and so much of her to ruin. Your cock dips, lining up with her pussy, the tip nudging at her entrance, and all it takes is one strong thrust, and you’re pushing into her, burying yourself to the hilt in a swift, brutal motion.

There’s a scream from her, a grunt from you, blending and echoing through the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles and the stall walls. Someone’s going to hear it, someone’s going to come in and see you fucking the star of the show and that’ll be it for the both of you.

But really, fuck all of that.

Fuck the concert, the venue staff, the fans, the tour managers, the PR nightmare that will follow.

Fuck everything that isn’t inside this stall, that isn’t Yujin’s tight cunt squeezing around your cock, that isn’t the way she’s shuddering in your arms, gasping your name, needing her daddy to fuck her harder, faster.

There's no easing her into it, not like you know you should. You fuck her hard, just like she’s begged. Your hips snap against her ass, the sound of skin slapping skin drowning out the noise outside, again and again, in and out, over and over.

Yujin’s never needed much to get started, always so easily soaked, so easily ready. She'd told you as much one late night (or one early morning): "I can take it, take anything, as long as it's coming from you. "

Her walls clamp down around you, she’s already pulsing, her cunt desperate to wring you dry. You’re gliding in and out of her, using her, letting her mold herself so perfectly around you, her juices coating your cock, making it slicker with every thrust.

“Yes—that’s what I fucking need.” Yujin cries out, her voice high-pitched, her head thrown back, and the flimsy plastic isn’t enough anymore, she needs you to hold her steady, to dig your fingers into her hips and nail her into the wall.

Each stroke, each thrust into her cunt, each time you fill her, stretch her—each one could be the last one, the one that has you exploding inside her. Could be the one that overwhelms you, the one that makes you forget where you are, that there’s anything that exists besides fucking this needy, little brat.

It’s the way Yujin clenches around you, tight and perfect, like she’s made just for you, like she’s never been fucked this way before, will never be again.

(Even though you have. Even though you will.)

Each time is like the first, you’re discovering her all over again, peeling back layers of this beautiful, untouchable idol, and finding something new, something beneath the sheen of purity and perfection. Something that makes you want to ruin her, bring her down to your level, to roll around the filth with the rest of you mere mortals.

And Yujin knows it.

There’s a need to make her feel it, and there’s her fucking pigtails, dangling in front of you like a carrot, flicking up and down in front of your face with every thrust. You need to grab them, to yank her back onto your cock, to force her to take it as hard as you want to give it. It’s almost too much to resist.

But even in your haze you know better. Instead, you settle for that choker on her neck, your thumb sliding under the black leather band, feeling the pulse of her blood racing beneath her skin. You grip it, tight, but not too tight. Just enough to make her gasp, to make her cunt tighten, to make her cry out—

“Gah—God—fuck—”

Strangled cries have her screaming, have her needing you to go deeper.

“Fuh—fuck—yes—right there—right—fucking—there—”

She’s chanting, almost sobbing, doing her best to take everything you’re giving her, everything she’s needs, everything she deserves. You’re tapping into that deep, dark desire within her. The one that gets off on being treated rough, the one that loves having a daddy, the one that needs to be nailed to a wall and reduced to nothing but a shaking, mewling mess of climaxes.

You dare to snake a hand under her top, you’re not going to mess her outfit, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get a taste of what’s underneath. Your fingers stretch under her bra, testing the elasticity of the cotton, before finally finding the swell of her breasts, cupping it, filling your hand with it.

Yujin’s moan is all the encouragement you need, a wordless permit to squeeze, to pinch her nipple, roll it between your thumb and forefinger until it’s a hard little nub.

“Oh fuck yes—touch me. You love touching me, don’t you?” She's feeling it, really feeling you, the stimulation of your palm on her breast, the sting on her nipples. “You fucking love my body.”

It’s the damn truth—these past weeks have been a crash course in Yujin, and you haven’t found an inch you didn’t immediately fall in love with. Every curve and dip and line, every soft place and every sharp edge; the weight of her in your arms, the way she fits against you, how she responds to your touch like she’s been waiting for it, for you, for fucking ever.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, daddy, just like that.”

“You’re so fucking perfect, Yujin. So tight, so wet, so fucking mine.”

You slur words into her, words that make her shiver, make her tremble against you, make her so fucking happy to hear them. It’s the words that she loves, hearing you talk like that, like she’s the only one who can make you feel this way. And maybe she is.

So you keep talking, keep whispering those loving, filthy soliloquies into her ear, keep telling her how good her cunt is, how desperate you are for her body, how much cum you have to give her. And her body has an answer for you each time, each syllable a caress that sends shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Yujin. So beautiful when you’re like this, when you’re all mine.” You can feel it boiling up inside you, that pressure building with every smack of your hips against her ass. “I’m going to cum so hard for you, princess.”

There’s the guitar, the bass, the keys, the band tuning up outside, noise filtering into the stall, faint but unmistakeable, the only thing missing is the beat of the drums, the only thing missing is you.

Yujin’s grinning, knowing she’s the one keeping you occupied, knowing it’s her cunt that you’re buried in, that’s not letting you go.

“If only they knew,” she’s giggling like a schoolgirl (she might as well be with those pigtails), “if only they know how good you’re fucking me right now. They won’t have a fucking clue, will they?”

“Such a fucking tease, Yujin.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and sends a coy, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you, you little slut,” you answer, not bothering to mince your words. Your hand tightens around her choker, not enough to cut off her air, just enough to keep her right there, panting and needy and yours. “You know exactly what you’re doing out there. I see how you dance, how you move. Like you’re forcing them to picture you fucking, making them all want a taste of what they’ll never have.”

The truth makes her shiver against you. “They all wish they could do this to me, all wish they could fuck me and fill me like you are.”

There’s a tension building inside her too, the blend of your words and the reality of the performance she’s going to have to put on afterwards. It has her body tightening like a bow string, ready to snap at any moment.

And you’re going to be the one to release it.

You venture a hand downwards, gracing over her stomach, her belly button, until you reach the wetness of her pussy. There's her clit, ripe for teasing.

You fuck your cock in deeper still, matching the swirl of your finger with the pounding of her cunt, timing it just right to make her leak all over you.

“That feels so—fuck,” Yujin purrs, so, so blissful. “Only you—only you, daddy. No one else will get to have me—fuck—fuck me like this.”

“Whenever I want, any time I want,” you’re telling her, promising her, even though it’s more likely to be the opposite. That it’s Yujin that will seek you out on those lonely nights and those quiet mornings, or just whenever she’s bored and needs someone to fuck all the nerves and stress out of her system.

“They’d be so—gah—so jealous if they knew. I see it when they look at me—how much they want me,” she’s straining to say it, but needs you to hear it, needs you to know it. “I see it—read it in places they think I don’t look.”

She’s lost, lost in a sea of her own musings, thoughts of how everyone with a working pair of eyeballs wants to fuck her. Relishing in the knowledge that she's found the only person that can fuck her right, and that their cock is buried in her cunt, their fingers working her clit.

“They call me a slut, a whore, but that’s not true, is it, daddy? I only fuck you,” Yujin repeats, “I’m only a slut for you.”

There’s an edge to her voice, a raw, animalistic need that makes you want to prove her right. Want to erupt inside her so badly that she’s forced to carry a part of you inside her when she’s on stage.

“Yours to use,” Yujin taunts. “To fuck, to fill...”

Jesus.

“To break.”

Fucking.

“Maybe I should let you rip off my clothes, fuck up my hair—fuck—my makeup. Go out on stage with all the marks you’ve left on me, with all your cum—gah—all over me.”

Christ.

It hits you like a sledgehammer, adding another layer of taboo to this already fucked up situation. The thought of it is fucking wild, ridiculous to contemplate, you’re sure it’s all just part of the game, another button Yujin’s pressing for her own thrill… right?

“Then everyone would know—everyone would know that it’s you—that you’re the one that’s fucking my brains out when no one else is watching.”

You’re all over her and deep inside her, lips on her throat, her jaw, hands at her tits, her cunt. Devouring her, all of her, from those tightly binded pigtails all the way down to her carefully manicured toes.

And then she stops dancing around the subject and demands it.

“Ruin me. Fuck me, please, daddy. Just—kiss me, now.”

“You said—”

But Yujin’s already twisting around at her waist, angling her body so she can seize your lips, smear her lipstick across your teeth, flood your mouth with her tongue. She’s got fistfuls of your shirt, pulling you closer, as if she’s trying to claim you, claim every inch of you as property of An Yujin.

Now that you’ve got permission, you thread your fingers into her hair, gripping tight, pulling her by the pigtails like you’ve been dying to, kissing her like your life depends on it.

You’re getting rougher with her now, tugging her head back, peeling her lips away from yours, sliding your cock out of her. You ignore the whine, ignore the tears. It’s game over for her makeup, for her hair, her outfit. She’s a beautiful, chaotic mess—so shamelessly yours, so perfect in every way.

The separation barely lasts a second, you’re lifting her up, turning her and depositing her atop the toilet seat, spreading her legs wide, putting her on display.

This is the real show—Yujin looking up at you, eyes dark with need, tits out and heaving with every breath; thick, toned thighs glistening with her juices, your precum; and her pussy, all puffy and so ready to be filled again.

“Daddy—” Yujin starts, and ends, as you’re inside her again. Inside her tight, welcoming cunt, her back arching off the cold porcelain, her legs wrapping around you, ankles crossing and locking in place.

Just one hard thrust and you see it—it's in the watering of her eyes, the wobble of her lips.

She’s close, and you’re not far behind.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper, nearly lost somewhere between your haggard breaths and the sloppy wet sounds of your bodies colliding.

But you hear it, and it’s all you need.

It’s her pigtails in your hands again, strands wrapped around your fist, and you’re taking a front row seat in the spectacle that is Yujin falling apart.

“Please, fuck me.” There it is again, louder now. “Fuck my tiny little pussy, daddy. Make me yours.”

It’s every single sound out of her mouth, every folding and crumpling of her perfect features, every single drop of sweat sliding down her neck, every time she says fuck me, or break me, or over and over again—make me yours.

You want to savour this, burn this image into your mind, live off the memory of Yujin’s cunt pulsing around you, but there’s no time, no time to do anything but kiss her again; clumsy, hungry, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Please,” she’s biting into your lip, licking into your mouth, clawing at your shoulders, “say my name.”

“Yujin,” you give it to her, offer her name like a sacrifice. “Yujin, I’m so fucking close.”

The porcelain is doing its best to bear your weight, to survive the punishment you’re hammering into Yujin’s tight, perfect body, to outlast your relentless fucking. “Cum for me daddy, cum for me.”

But it’s her, it’s Yujin that crosses that threshold first, coming apart until she’s nothing but a mess of whimpers, moans, and cries of your name. Of pleases and thank yous, until she’s just a hot, tight cunt getting used for your pleasure.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m cumming—daddy, I can’t—it’s so—”

It’s all there across her face, all in the way she’s shaking, the way her cunt is gripping you, her walls fluttering around your cock like a fucking heartbeat, tightening and releasing in endless waves that crash down on her.

“So good—you’re so good—you’re so—fuck—fuck—cum—cumming—"

Her entire body seizes, tenses all at once, and you’d be worried if you hadn’t seen it countless times before, if you didn’t know to expect her to lose all control of her limbs, to not be able to do anything but stare at you, all teary eyed and feeling so, so good.

But you keep going, hips pumping, cock driving into her, keeping her steady, helping her climb to her peak, filling her tender, creaming cunt over and over again. You want to make this last, want to keep her like this, unable to think about anything but you, unable to think about anything that isn’t your cock.

“So fucking good for me, Yujin, so good, princess.”

“God, fuck—daddy!”

It’s the praise that pushes her over, unravels her, has her mouth frozen in the shape of your name, like the idea of you is the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. That, and her nails digging into your skin, adding to the tapestry she’s already engraved on your back.

And then the silence comes, and that’s the real killer.

Yujin’s always loud when she gets fucked, always desperate to tell you how good it feels, needy for you to know how good you are to her. But when she cums—when she loses herself on your cock—it’s like she relinquishes all ability to articulate, to make any sound other than a whine or a gasp.

You know what she wants to say—don’t stop, please, don’t stop—know what she wants to tell you—thank you, daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you—and it’s your responsibility to see her through it, to plunge your cock deep into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt, to have her rocking and creaming all over you, again and again and again.

And then she falls apart.

So beautifully, so perfectly.

But you’re not done yet.

Your thrusts come in thick and fast, making the whole stall shudder, making your vision swim. Yujin’s still reeling, snapped back into the land of the living by the force of your fucking.

She’s leaning forward, pressing her forehead to yours, able to form whole words again, whispering something that you can’t quite catch, something sweet and needy and demanding.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

It’s a trigger she’s been waiting to pull—the moment she says it, you let go.

There’s no holding back anymore, you’ve been fighting it for what feels like hours, trying to keep your shit together, but it’s no use. You’re going to cum, the only question is, where.

You can’t shake the image of her covered with you, painted all over her face, her chin, her neck, her chest, her perfect, perfect tits. You want it, want to see it realised, want to parade her out on that stage looking like a fuck doll—your fuck doll.

But not now, not today.

So instead, you bury yourself inside her, so, so deep. Yujin’s nodding, teasing “deeper, deeper, please,” begging you with her whole body, watching you with those eyes, half-lidded and glazed over, licking at her lips, bracing for you to fill her.

It’s your turn to shake, your turn to let go of that knot in your gut that’s been twisting ever since she dragged you into the bathroom, pushed you into the toilet stall and told you she needed this.

You throb, tighten, the base of your spine tingles, and that’s all the warning you get before you’re cumming, rushing Yujin’s greedy cunt with your hot, sticky load.

“Daddy, daddy—daddy—yes!”

It’s an addiction now, she needs your cum like she needs oxygen, and you need to fill her as if you’ll die if you go another day without pounding her cunt.

“So good, so fucking good inside me—all yours, all yours—"

It’s a thousand blissful little moments stacked on top of each other, her clenching, you throbbing, her grinning, you grimacing, but it all comes together in this heated space that leaves you both boneless, breathless catastrophes.

Yujin’s the first to come down, slumping against you, drooling down your chest, staining your shirt with a sheen of her saliva. Her legs go slack around you, finally letting go of your waist, still shaking in the aftershocks of her orgasm. You can feel your cum leaking from the corners of her cunt, oozing down the inside of her thighs, sliding past her knee, down to her ankles.

A finger under your chin to tilt your head to her, to kiss you. One of those quiet, intimate kisses that will have you spending the night trying to decode its meaning. But, for now, there’s just the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“Thank you, daddy,” Yujin says, so sweetly, so sincerely, and it’s like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Always.”

And slowly, carefully, you’re pulling out of her, even though she’s still clenching, still trying to keep you in. Your cock exits her with an audible slosh, and you need to brace yourself against the stall door, lean into it hard as you take in the sight of Yujin, sprawled on the toilet seat, well fucked and utterly ruined in all the best ways.

She reads your mind, “You really made a fucking mess of me.”

“I only claim fifty percent of that responsibility.”

Yujin pouts, makes sure you’re watching her, and dips her fingers into her defiled cunt. “This is all you, daddy.”

She drags out her digits, holding them up for you, your cum glistening on them like a prize. And then she’s slipping them between her lips, flicking out her tongue to catch a drop that dribbles down her wrist. She licks it all up, slow, savouring it, making sure you’re watching, making sure your eyes are glued to her as she devours the last traces of you from her hand.

That sound she makes, that little “Mmm” of satisfaction has you feeling heady, makes your cock twitch, eager to be back inside her, to fill her right back up so you can watch her do it all over again.

“Cumslut,” is the only word you have her for her, as she slides her fingers in deeper, tickling the back of her own throat like it's the most natural thing to do. Her cheeks hollow out, and after a long, dramatic suck, she pulls her fingers from her lips with a wet pop, all shiny and clean.

She corrects you. “Your cumslut.”

And then a switch is flipped, and she’s putting herself back together.

Yujin’s graceful, at odds with the confines of the cramped bathroom stall she’s just been fucked in. It amazes you every time, the way that she moves. All liquid and soft, as if she’s not really touching anything, as if she’s floating.

She licks droplets of cum off her lips, scoops the remainder up her legs, her thighs, and you’re just staring, gawking at her with something akin to awe, because she’s just so fucking beautiful, so utterly composed, so untouchable.

You help her, you try, help her tug down her shirt, pull up her panties, her shorts, help her slip back into the role of Yujin, the perfect idol, the star that can’t be tarnished by something as dirty as a quickie on top of a toilet seat.

She nods towards the stall door, and you let her past you, help hold her steady as you lead her to the bathroom mirror, give her a chance to assess the damage you've wrought on her. The smudged lipstick, the kiss bruises, the hair sticking to her neck—all evidence of you.

And yet, she smiles, looking back at you over her shoulder. Like she’s got it all under control, like you haven’t ruined her, not really. Not yet.

“Well, that’s something,” she says, her voice a little too breathless for the breeziness she’s aiming for.

But then she’s got her compact out, the tiny bag she's had hidden in her back pocket specifically for occasions like this. You stand back, giving her space to work her magic. Cheeks are patted for colour, lips glossed for plumpness, eyes relined with that dangerously smoky look that makes them pop.

“How do I look?” She turns, looking at you through the mirror, hand on her hip, posing.

“Like you’ve just been fucked in a toilet stall, honestly.”

That makes her laugh. “Good.”

She’s heading to the door, smoothing out her skirt, fixing her top, stopping along the way to give your forearm a quick squeeze.

There’s that look in her eyes again.

One you’ll be revisiting once the show’s over and the doors are closed.

“I’ll take off first,” she says, tying her pigtails back in place. “Wouldn’t want to make it too obvious.”

You catch her hand before she can get away, pulling her face close to you, wiping away a stray bit of cum still shining on her chin. “Good luck out there.”

And there’s that smile. That smile that’s going to make an audience of thousands fall in love with her. That’s going to make you fall in love with her, if you’re not careful. “Don’t need it,” she says, pressing her lips to yours, ruining her lip gloss all over again. “I got you, daddy.”

#kpop smut #yujin smut #ive smut #male reader

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themintsimmer · 7 months ago

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The Pinky Ring Lounge (CC Build)

A upscale lounge loosely inspired by Bruno Mars' real lounge in Las Vegas but instead of it being located inside of a hotel, I made it it's own building. This lot includes a stage for your band sims to play and perform, a lowered platform lounging area with comfortable sections, a bar, and a dining area. This lot can be seen in my latest episode of my let's play series Mint Condition, which you can WATCH HERE

40x30 lot

281,090

Gallery ID: themintsimmer

Used items from High School Years, Island Living, City Living, My Wedding Stories, and Moschino Stuff Pack

All CC listed with links attached + tray files on my Patreon post down below

FREE DOWNLOAD [PATREON]

#the sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 builds #sims 4 builds #ts4 gameplay #ts4 builds #builds

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.

maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out

ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty

cw criminal minds typical gun violence

Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning.

The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly.

In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt.

You'd like to keep it that way.

It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour.

Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again.

It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return.

You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage.

It's deep but small. A nick.

The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means…

You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid.

He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor.

"You were sleeping? I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream."

He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?"

"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?"

"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence."

"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay."

You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?"

—

"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?"

"You want to tell me, right?"

"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope."

"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again.

"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."

Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?"

"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside."

"What were you doing up?"

"That's my business," Morgan says.

Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers.

Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops.

Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby.

"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?"

"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?"

Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading.

"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night."

She gawps.

Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never… and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–"

You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?"

"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down."

"Yes sir."

Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly.

Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…"

"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh.

"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me."

"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now."

Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away.

"I don't deserve him," you say softly.

Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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krispyweiss · 5 months ago

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youtube

Song Review: Grateful Dead - “Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo” (Live, May 12, 1974)

Welcome to the Jerry Garcia and Keith Godchaux show, aka the Grateful Dead’s May 12, 1974, performance of “Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo” in Nevada.

Previously unreleased, the recording is out to promote the June 21 arrival of From the Mars Hotel (50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition). Coming in the wake of “Ship of Fools” from the same gig - it’ll be released in its entirely as part of the expanded treatment of Mars - this “Half-Step” is a delight.

Guitarist Garcia and pianist Godchaux shine and their performances benefit from a pristine recording. There are no backgrounds during the song proper, leaving Garcia to go solo at the mic and on his six strings while Godchaux adds colorful, prominent fills throughout the number.

Rhythm guitarist Bob Weir, bassist Phil Lesh and vocalist Donna Jean Godchaux join with Garcia on the Rio Grande vocal coda. And while the harmonies are not just exactly perfect, they are about as strong as ’74 Dead specimens come. All of which makes this “Half-Step” both an insightful listen to the early stages of the song’s evolution and a muscular performance that stands on its own merits.

Read Sound Bites previous coverage of the forthcoming release - including his review of the Angel’s Share album - here.

Grade card: Grateful Dead - “Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo” (Live - 5/12/74) - A-

5/31/24

#Youtube #grateful dead #mississippi half-step uptown toodeloo #from the mars hotel #jerry garcia #bob weir #phil lesh #bill kreutzmann #keith godchaux #donna jean godchaux

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authorhjk1 · 14 days ago

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6pTqflplBO/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Sana/Jennie museum threesome

The Roman Goddess (part III)

(Minatozaki Sana X Jennie X Male Reader)

"Stop playing hard to get, Mars."

Venus' mischievous smile makes you lose your mind.

You knew it was a bad idea, when you saw the invitation to this event lying on the bed in your hotel room. And her note next to it explained why she wanted you here.

"I don't think we should do this."

You take a step back, surprised by your own self control.

"Y-Your husband is right there."

You whisper and point to the next room of the museum.

"Oh, forget about him, baby. I'm just here for that dick of yours."

You watch her looking down on you, before she reaches out to cup your crotch.

You can't do anything. Nothing to resist. Venus has always been something you can't walk away from. Something that draws you in. And that purple dress she is wearing makes your head spin, everytime you look at her. It fits her body perfectly, hugging her curves tightly.

A satisfied smile plays around Venus' lips, when she sees you glancing at her cleavage.

"You see? We're meant for each other. My body is yours. And yours is mine."

She steps closer. You close your eyes, still feeling her hand on your clothed cock. She places her tongue on your cheekbone and gives your cheek a long lick upwards, until she reaches your ear. Her purpose is clear. Destroy your silent resistance. Let yourself go. Give in.

"Your cock. It belongs in my pussy. As deep as it can go."

You flinch when Venus bites your earlobe. She is way more aggressive than she used to be. But then again, she is used to getting what she wants.

"And I'm not leaving this museum, until you tear this dress off me and fuck me like you mean it."

Your eyes shoot open when you hear high heels click on the stone floor. Someone is walking towards the two of you. Venus takes two steps back and pretends to read the information plate of the glass case on your left. You quickly hide your erection with the brochure you've held onto until now.

When the woman finally rounds the corner, you almost roll your eyes. What in the world? What the fuck is going on?

Her blue dress is barely a dress. More like a tunic. A very revealing one. You can see most of her slender legs and her tummy. The former is decorated with some body jewelry, which catches your eye. You notice you're staring, when she speaks up.

"I didn't expect you to see here."

Venus turns around.

"Oh, hey you."

She gives the new woman a big smile, but you can tell it's not genuine. Venus hesitates for a moment, but decides to properly greet the other woman. The two of them meet in the middle of the room. You can sense the awkwardness in the air as they give each other a hug. It looks forced and delicate, almost as if both of them are afraid the other might shatter into pieces, if they squeeze too hard.

You take a deep breath, glad you aren't the center of Venus' attention at the moment. Turning around, you try to ignore the two women and regain your composure. The glass case behind you showcases a trident and a net. You read the small plate that is placed next to the case.

The Retiarius, one of the most iconic gladiators of ancient Rome, fought using a trident (tridens) and a net (rete). Unlike his heavily armored counterparts, the Retiarius relied on speed and agility.

"How is your husband doing? You always talk about how he is working all the time."

"He is doing just fine. If I remember correctly, you ended things with your boyfriend? Tell me all about that."

Equipped with minimal armor—typically a shoulder guard (galerus) for protection—he would attempt to ensnare his opponent with the net before striking with the trident. This lightweight approach contrasted sharply with the heavily armed Secutor, creating a dramatic spectacle of skill versus strength.

"You know how guys are. Lazy idiots, who only think about sex. Especially when they see a woman like me. Believe it or not, I had one of his best friends on my doorstep an hour after I ended things with him."

"I can only imagine. My husband is a loyal, loving man. He gives me the world. I hope you'll find someone like that someday as well."

The weapons displayed here are replicas of those used in the grand arenas of Capua, a renowned training center for gladiators.

You move onto the next exhibit, while you hear the two women talk in the background. It's obvious they don't like each other. They're just bragging about how everyone loves them and how beautiful they are. You do have to admit that they're both gorgeous, but their characters seem flawed, to say the least.

Now standing in front of a mosaic, you get a glimpse of what a fully filled arena must've looked like in its full glory.

This intricate mosaic from the arena in Capua illustrates the staged reenactment of the Battle of Zama, the decisive confrontation of the Second Punic War fought in 202 BCE. In this spectacle, captured Punic warriors were forced to relive their defeat, facing off against Roman-trained gladiators representing the legions of Scipio Africanus.

"By the way, I love that dress of yours. I don't think I'd dare to show off this much skin, but it really fits your style."

"Thanks. Oh, but I love yours as well. Did your husband buy it for you? His taste is really something."

The Punic fighters are depicted with their characteristic long spears (hasta), curved swords (falcata), and round shields (caetra), emulating the Carthaginian infantry. Some are shown as Numidian allies, wielding javelins (pilum) and riding light horses, mirroring the diverse forces of Hannibal’s army.

"You know, I'd love to catch up with you some more, but my husband already mentioned earlier that he would love me to accompany him to the arena. But I'm sure we will have a chance to resume this pleasant conversation."

"Of course, dear. You're a loving and loyal wife. You always put his needs over yours."

Their opponents, dressed in Roman-style armor, carry gladii (short swords) and rectangular scuta (shields), symbolizing the disciplined Roman formations that triumphed at Zama. Such events were designed not only as entertainment but as a display of Roman supremacy, reminding the spectators of Rome's victory over one of its greatest adversaries.

You let out a deep breath as you hear Venus exit the room. You already felt bad, because you slept with a married woman. And while your carnal desires have kept you under their control so far, you finally have the courage to stop. You don't want to do it here. Not with her husband in the next room. That's not just morally wrong, but also stupid and dangerous.

You decide to ignore the other woman. She's probably doing the same with you. You reach another, smaller glass case. A figure of Venus inside. You can't help but glance at your own personal Venus through the door in the other room. For a moment, your eyes are glued to her backside, which is tightly wrapped by her dress. But you quickly avert your eyes again, hoping no one caught you. You decide on studying the description of the small figure, waiting for the other woman to finally leave the room.

The goddess Venus, revered as the deity of love, beauty, and fertility, held a special connection with the gladiators of Capua. In Roman culture, Venus was also associated with victory and fortune, making her a significant figure for gladiators who sought her favor before entering the arena. It was believed that invoking Venus’ blessings could turn the tide of combat, granting strength, agility, and the favor of the audience.

"Interesting."

You mumble as you take out your pen. This could make for a great part of your book. The first one featured the Roman legions. The second one was centered around Roman naval warfare. And this third one was supposed to be more about politics, while highlighting the character of a cunning, but charming woman.

Thank to Venus, you've already made great progress. "The Roman goddess", your third book, is almost finished by now. And it seems like you just found the best way to start your fourth book. Very ambitious, since you haven't completed the third one yet. But you know that this could lead you to even more fame. And money. For a moment, you wonder if you could ever reach the same level as Venus' husband. Through writing? Not likely. But it's going well so far.

The idea alone already makes your fingers itchy. You want to go home and continue to write. And you know now, your fourth book will be about gladiators. As you take notes on the museum's brochure, you are already planning out the first ideas for a plot.

You loose yourself in your thoughts, whispering along as you keep on reading the description of the small figure.

In Capua, one of the most renowned gladiatorial training centers of the Roman world, shrines and offerings to Venus were common, especially among gladiators who wished to honor the goddess in the hope of survival and success. The connection between Freya and the gladiators-

"What the fuck happened here?"

You say out loud, starring at the small text.

"Are you okay?"

You jump. The woman who talked to Venus is standing right behind you.

"Yeah, sorry."

You turn back around.

"Is something wrong?"

"Kinda..."

You hesitate. She sounds kinda bored and you don't want to make it worse by letting your history addiction shine through. But what's the worst that can happen?

"Here."

You point at the description.

"For some reason someone switched the names of Venus and Freya."

"And who is that?"

"Well, Venus is this one."

You point at the statue and have to force yourself to not look into the next room.

"And Freya is basically her Nordic equivalent."

"Isn't this the goddess of love or something?"

"Yes, you're correct. She's also responsible for marriage and the spring."

"You seem to know what you're talking about."

The woman next to you crosses her arms in front of her chest as she looks down at the figure of Venus.

"A little. My specialty is Roman and Greek history, but I know a thing or two about other civilizations as well."

"Are you a history teacher or something?"

"An author."

It still feels odd to say that. But you're realizing that you aren't as nervous as you should be. This woman is gorgeous, stunning. And yet, you don't really think about that and just see her as a normal person. Maybe because you spent a lot of time with Venus?

"Are you famous?"

"I wouldn't say so. Not really."

"Too bad. It would've explained why she sleeps with you."

You almost have a heart attack.

"W-What?"

You cross your fingers that she isn't talking about Venus. Not possible. You've never seen her before, so how would she have seen you? And you are sure that Venus didn't say anything either. Right?

You feel your heart beating faster, while your body seems like it's frozen. You wait for her to keep talking.

"Did you never see her taking pictures of you or something?"

You slowly shake your head.

"No... Did she?"

"There's an mobile app for women like us."

She pauses for a moment.

"Rich, famous women. Who are either married or single."

"Ah...."

"The app is used to share our sexual adventures with each other. And recommend people, based on where you are. For example, you told her that you'd be in Italy for a while. How do I know that? I checked the app. She put a picture of you in there. What you're good at, that you're fine with keeping secrets and that you're currently in Italy. And your number as well."

"She gave everyone my number and a picture?"

"Yeah."

You feel a little used. Venus seemed to value privacy so much. So why did she just violate yours?

"I also know that the two of you are playing a little game. You call her Venus. And you're Mars, right?"

You slowly nod your head. It finally dawns on you in which direction this is gonna go.

"I want in."

"What?"

"I want to take what's hers. Make Venus jealous and show her that you like my pussy more than hers."

When she says Venus' name, it almost sounds like an insult.

"Do I have a choice?"

The woman in blue shakes her head, while giving you a mocking smile.

"You don't."

You look at her, then look back towards the room Venus went to, and then look back at her.

"Okay....What do you want to do? A hotel? Or-"

"Shut it."

You're surprised by her rudeness.

"We are going somewhere where she can see us. Got it?"

"S-Sure."

"Oh and we need a name for me too. I want one just as good as hers."

You instinctively glance at the description of the figure.

"Freya?"

You see a smile playing around her lips.

"Sounds good."

"I don't think we should be here. This isn't just against museum rules, but also inappropriate."

"Zip it. I do what I want."

You sigh as she leads you into the sunlight. It seems like someone really paid the museum a lot of money to host this event. Which makes sense, since everyone here seems to be rich. The museum staff has placed a purple sun blind over the imperial box. From here, you have great view of the whole arena.

Of course it isn't in its original state, but it looks fabulous nonetheless. Which makes sense, since it's the second largest amphitheater of the Roman Empire. In the middle, where the gladiators have fought thousands of years ago, the museum has set up tables and chairs, a large buffet and even a small dance floor.

You feel odd, overlooking this beautiful scenery. Not just because you have a gorgeous woman lean over the balustrade right in front of you, but also because it feels wrong. This was once a place of blood and death. People died down there and yet these rich people treat it as some fancy place for a party.

"There she is."

Freya nods towards Venus, who is standing near the buffet. You can spot her easily. She is the most beautiful woman down there. You can't keep your eyes off that beautiful body.

You know her husband has to be there somewhere, but you can't tell who it is. And you're not even sure if you want to know. After all-

"What are you waiting for?"

You look over the bent over woman in front of you. Venus has so much control over you, you almost forgot about Freya. But now, you can see how beautiful she is as well. How sexy, how gorgeous. Just as much a goddess as Venus is. Same but different.

"Kneel for me and make yourself useful."

You hesitate. Venus wasn't really this commanding. But in the end, you don't care. As long as it means you are able to have sex with a woman like her.

You feel the naked stone on your knees. Reaching forward, you slowly lift up Freya's dress. Her blue underwear matches the dress. You lean in and give the back of her thighs kisses. You taste her skin, making sure you take your time as you carefully make your way upwards. When you eventually meet her clothed core, you plant a kiss on the fabric.

Freya's legs open a little wider, but you change directions. You lick and kiss her cheeks, giving them an occasional bite or two.

"That feels good..."

You continue, until you feel like she is starting to get impatient. Pulling at her panties, you watch them slowly glide down her smooth legs.

Licking your lips, you stare at her exposed pussy. It's a little darker than Venus', but not less beautiful. You lean in. One slow lick from the bottom to the top. It makes her hum in appreciation. You reach for her cheeks to pull them apart a little further. Taking in Freya's scent, you begin to feast on her pussy, while the rich people feast on the buffet in the arena.

You quickly notice that Freya isn't as wet as Venus is. It takes you a while to finally have her dripping. But for some reason, that just makes it taste even better. You lick along her folds, part them with your tongue, dive in deep. And then you retreat, circle around her outer lips, dip down to let your tongue flick against her clit. And then you start from the beginning once more.

Throughout your delicious meal, Freya has stayed mostly quiet. An appreciative moan here and there, a slight gasp, whenever you try something new. You can really see how the two women differ from each other.

As you keep going, you notice how Freya likes it when you use your hands on her ass from time to time. Pull her cheeks apart a little, slightly dig your fingers into them, squeezing them. You feel how she slowly becomes hotter, how her body's temperature starts to rise. She starts to move back a little as more pleasure rushes through her system.

Making your final move, you take her clit into your mouth. You suck on it, making her squirm for a moment. And then, a deep moan leaves her body. She shakes in front of you, your hands on her ass and hers on the balustrade keep her standing. More of her juices leave her pussy, which you taste as you dive back in during her high.

When you finally move away from her, you take a look at her now glistening folds once more. But when you're about to stand up, you feel one of her hands pushing your head back down.

"What makes you think you're done?"

You're surprised she wants more. You would've loved to feel her lips, or her pussy on your cock. But you decide to follow her lead. Maybe you'll get even more out of this.

"That's a good boy."

You hear her sigh when you place your lips on hers once more. Closing your eyes, you enjoy her taste. The moment is short lived, when you hear your phone's ringtone.

"Answer it."

Freya's voice is laced with mischievous intent.

You quickly realize why. She must've seen how Venus took out her phone and is now calling you.

"Hello?"

"Are you hiding from me?"

"I'm-"

You get interrupted by Freya, who pulls your face toward her core.

"I'm not."

You resume your meal, while Venus talks on the other end of the line.

"Good. I'm really horny right now. And I need you."

"I'm not sure if we should do it here. Your husband-"

"Oh, don't worry. He won't catch us, I promise."

"I don't-"

"It's gonna be quick."

Freya lets out a sigh as your tongue swipes upwards a little too high, coming dangerously close to her other hole. You bite your lip for a second, hoping Venus didn't hear that.

"I'll reward you."

Seems like Venus took your silence as indecisiveness.

"I'm going to head to your hotel room after this event. My body will be yours tonight."

You almost let out a groan into Freya's pussy.

"Is there anything you would prefer me in?"

You feel the other woman's hand on the back of your head again, urging you on to keep eating her out.

"A specific dress? Lingerie? Nothing?"

You close your eyes, trying to stay strong. At the same time, you keep you face buried between Freya's legs.

"Yes, that feels good."

Her moan is way louder than all the other ones.

"Mars, what's going on?"

You realize that she did it on purpose.

Freya now reaches for your phone.

"Keep going."

She takes and places it on her ear.

"Hello, darling?"

You don't hear what Venus is saying. You let out a sigh, but resume your work. You kinda feel like you betrayed her. But the again, you aren't in a relationship. She is even married to someone else.

"Oh, I bet he's loving dessert right now."

You hear Freya's breath hitch as you let your tongue circle around her clit once more.

"Oh damn, you really weren't lying. He is gonna make me cum again."

You double your efforts at her words. The damage is done already. Might as well finish the job.

"Don't get all possessive, honey. I'm sure he won't mind sleeping with you tonight."

"Really? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You feel how Freya is getting closer again. This bantering with Venus is probably getting her off even more.

"What makes you think you're a better fuck than me?"

"Oh, I'm so up for that. I'm gonna show you how much better I am."

You suck on Freya's clit once more. And the climax of her conversation and you work suddenly make her cum again.

"Oh, fuck!"

Once she calms down, Freya speaks again.

"That was amazing. Where we are? Just look up."

You notice how a second later the call ends. Freya turns around and gives you your phone back.

"While we wait for Venus, why don't you show me what you got there?"

She reaches for your belt and starts to undress you. When your pants and boxers fall onto the stone floor, Freya wraps her fingers around your cock.

"It's always hard to tell someone's size without properly measuring it, but I feel like Venus underestimated you."

She stands in front of you, while she begins to stroke your length. You can't help but reach out to feel more of her body. You place your hand on her naked waist.

"You like me, don't you?"

It's probably for the best, if you don't answer. So you stay silent, your eyes slowly wandering from her waist to her clothed tits. And your hands soon follow.

"You probably thought she was a goddess when you first saw her, huh? That's why you play this little game. But trust me, she is no better than I am."

Her confident smirk makes you realize that she genuinely thinks she is better than Venus. She isn't just saying that to make you choose her.

"Maybe we should start without her."

You watch how Freya's hand leaves your cock. She sticks out her tongue and licks her own palm. Then, she places her wet hand around your length again.

"Come on. Make everyone watch."

She turns around again. And like before, Freya bends over the stone balustrade.

You hold your breath for a moment. You really must be lucky if you get to have sex with her. But, if Venus is about to join the two of you, this might turn into the best day of your life.

Stepping behind her, you align yourself with her pussy. Your tip grazes her lips. When you push inside, you hear her let out a sigh.

"No wonder she doesn't want to share you."

Your hands are on her waist. You feel that waist chain between your fingers. But that's by far not the best thing you're feeling right now. Her tight cunt is nicely wrapped around your cock, keeping you inside as you attempt to back up.

When you start to properly fuck her, you already hear the sounds of someone walking behind you. It's still a little further away, but it's growing closer. You decide that this the best moment to make use of Freya's pussy as much as possible. You don't know what might happen next.

"Fuck, right there."

She moans when you fuck her harder. Soon, you place one of your hands on her clothed tits, while the other stays on her waist. You take her from behind, enjoying her body to the fullest. As every thrust leads you deeper and deeper inside, you start to forget all about the world around you. Her tight grip on your cock is all that matters right now. Your thrusts become faster. And the sound of your hips meeting her ass becomes louder.

"The two of you started without me?"

You quickly turn your head. Venus is standing behind you, a pout on her lips. Your eyes immediately roam her body. Her beauty and Freya's pussy around your cock make your head spin.

"Why don't you join me? Venus?"

Freya says her name once more with an underlying emotion. But to your surprise, Venus walks closer. She captures your lips with hers, her hands on your chest. By now, you've stopped fucking Freya. Which she doesn't seem to like. The bent over woman moves her hips and you groan into Venus' mouth.

Venus breaks the kiss and whispers into your ear.

"Make sure your cum belongs to me."

She gives you a mischievous smile, before she backs away. Just like Freya, she bends over the balustrade. The two women are barely an arm's length apart from each other. But your view has suddenly improved immensely. Your eyes are glued to Venus' ass as you start to fuck Freya once more.

Your self control only lasts a second. You reach over to squeeze the cheek that is closest to you. Venus looks back at you, a satisfied grin on her face.

"Can't take your hands off me?"

You nod as you try to keep up the pace of your fucking. Freya has begun to moan again, this time a little louder. Her tight pussy is holding onto you as if she knew you're on the brink of jumping ship.

"Come on, Mars. It's not polite to leave a woman waiting."

You close your eyes. Count to three. When you reach three, you don't know if you should pull out or not. You count to three again. And again. And finally you feel yourself pulling out all the way. Freya's walls drag along your length and a long sigh leaves her lips.

Only now do you notice that she is breathing heavily. You decide you're kind enough to give her a break.

A moment later, you stand behind Venus. Your wet cock rests on the fabric of her dress as you squeeze her cheeks. She purrs like a cat in the sun, already getting wet by just your hands on her body.

As much as you love seeing her ass like that, you eventually realize the urge to bury yourself inside of her grows larger. You hike up her dress. No panties. If only her husband knew what a slutty wife he has. The already familiar sight of Venus' pussy doesn't give you time to hesitate. You quickly push inside. That familiar warmth closes down around your length immediately. Reaching forward, you take a hold of both of her naked shoulders. The way she is leaning over the balustrade probably enables everyone in the arena to look deep into her cleavage.

But she doesn't seem to care. Venus' moans are just as loud as Freya's as you start to fuck her as well. You can tell how much wetter she is. Her juices practically coating your cock.

"That's right. I promised you. You own my body tonight."

You groan in response. The urge to lean down and give her exposed back a bite is unusually strong. But you focus on fucking her harder. Her pussy basically asking for it. Her tight walls squeezing you, her juices making sure your thrusts are smooth.

Eventually, you make the mistake of looking to your left. Freya is still standing there, elbows on the balustrade, as she bites a nail while she watches. You can tell that she wants more. It takes you a while to muster enough self control, but then you manage to pull out of Venus. She gasps in surprise.

But before she can even turn her head, you already bury yourself inside Freya's tight and waiting cunt.

That's how you fuck them both for quite a while. You actually last way longer than you thought you would. The constant switching from one woman to the other gives you always a couple of seconds to breathe. After a while, the two of them learn how to live with it and sharing you becomes visibly easier.

You're fucking Venus right now, while Freya has moved a little closer, so you can finger her at the same time. You can't even count anymore how often you switched between them. But when you deliver one unusual deep thrust into Venus, you're suddenly very aware that you probably won't be able to switch again.

Your strength is starting to leave you as well. Freya seems to have noticed.

"You're gonna give us your cum now, right? Dump your load into our pussies, after you used them like you wanted to."

Her words don't slow your approaching orgasm down at all.

"Oh, yes. Fill me up."

Venus sighs as she feels your cock throbbing inside of her. You reach out to Freya, moving her closer. The two of them are now side by side, their asses touching. You try to count your thrusts, but it's in vein.

When you cum, you bite your lip in pleasure. Venus' pussy almost traps you inside of her as you shoot two streaks of cum inside. But after a short struggle, you finally manage to pull out. One long streak hits both their asses, before you're able to push into Freya one last time.

"Fuck, yes."

She sighs loudly as she feels your cum rush into her body.

The three of you are all out of breath and you almost collapse on top of Freya.

"You still haven't answered my question."

You look over to Venus. Her ass is covered in cum and you see how a long trail of it is already running down her right leg.

"How would you like me tonight?"

You think hard about this. You might never be able to see her again after tonight. Who knows where she is gonna be tomorrow.

"I want you to wear nothing, but two things."

She raises an eyebrow in question, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Heels and a choker."

Freya lets out a chuckle.

Venus gets off the balustrade. You notice how her arms are a little red. She kisses you again, while you're still inside the other woman.

"I'll be there at 10."

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #sana twice #sana minatozaki #sana smut #jennie smut #blackpink jennie #jennie

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vroomvro0mferrari · 24 days ago

Text

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 2

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuations, and curse words

Part 1 | Masterlist | Part 3

She didn’t know how, but Y/N had eventually managed to fall asleep in that freezing cold room. It actually didn’t even feel that cold anymore when she woke up in the morning. Nevertheless, she tugged the blanket up higher and buried her head further into the pillow. That’s when she noticed it – the heavy weight that was tightly gripping her waist, and the source of warmth against her. How had this happened? She was not even five centimetres away from the edge of the bed.

That little fucker.

Poor Lando wasn’t even properly awake when he was basically flung across the bed. He blinked groggily, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He looked up at her in confusion. “What the hell?” he grumbled, still trying to shake off the sleepiness.

Y/N, fuming, sat up and glared at him. “You were practically spooning me, Lando! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Lando, rubbing his eyes, mumbled defensively, “I didn’t mean to! I must have just… rolled over in my sleep.”

She narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger in his face. “I warned you about this, Lando! I told you if you would cross over to my side I’d get Max to take care of you!”

Lando, now more awake, sat up and looked at her, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “I believe there was a promise of choking involved, too?”

Y/N’s jaw was slack in shock at his boldness. “Don’t be smart!”

“Come on, you were pretty cosy with me, too—”

“Cosy with you? I was on the edge of the bed! I literally would’ve fallen off if I moved any closer to the edge,” Y/N protested.

“You didn’t seem to mind the extra warmth,” Lando shrugged.

She glared at him. “Oh, please. It’s not like I had much of a choice with you clinging to me.”

Lando shook his head at her fiery temper; it was far too early for this. “Well, it’s not like you tried to push me away. I think you’re just too scared to admit you liked it,” he said, his smirk widening.

“Are you kidding me? I was practically falling off the bed. That was not enjoyment, that was survival. If you think that’s what enjoyment looks like, you’re obviously not very good in bed,” Y/N huffed, getting out of bed to collect her stuff.

“Wow, okay. I’ll have you know I’m very skilled, I get compliments all the time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Overcompensating much?”

Lando smiled suggestively, “If you want, you could find out for yourself.”

“Ugh, gross. Absolutely not. One night of accidental cuddling is more than enough.”

“If you change your mind, I’ll be more than happy to provide a demonstration,” Lando smirked.

“Dream on,” she concluded, stalking into the bathroom.

– – – – –

Half an hour later Lando and Y/N had joined Max and Pietra downstairs for breakfast, the intense discussion long forgotten. The soft sound of clattering plates and cutlery filled the hotel restaurant when they sat down. The group slowly ate their breakfast while they talked about possible activities for the day. After a vote, the plan was set: a morning hike, followed by an afternoon of exploring the town – especially the cute stores they spotted on their way.

And so, soon after they finished up their breakfast, they set out for their hike before it got too hot. The scenery was stunning; different types of trees and plants lined the pathway they followed, the sun shining through the leaves above them and every now and then, through the heavy bush, they could see the beautiful view of a lake nearby with tall mountains in the back. Unfortunately, the gorgeous sight was marred by Lando’s presence. Of course, he had to walk right behind Y/N, and couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.

“Careful there, don’t trip,” Lando told her as she manoeuvred over a large rock with little grip.

Y/N shot him a glare over her shoulder, mistaking the sincere concern in his voice for teasing. “I’ll take you down with me.”

Lando was surprised at the sharp response – he didn’t mean to insult or mock her. Y/N had always been witty; she always had a comeback ready for whatever Lando said, but she had never been good at noticing when Lando was genuine instead of taunting. She usually took all his comments as banter, even his attempts at flirting. Her consistent rejections made him play along; turning it into a joke instead of a true effort at pursuing his best friend’s sister. Maybe it was for the best; the dynamic worked, and Max would never allow anything more than friendship between them anyway.

When the group reached the edge of the lake, they decided to take a break. They climbed down the rocks carefully and perched themselves on large stones scattered at the waterfront. Max searched through his backpack for the snacks Pietra had made them bring and offered everyone some. They drank water, ate something, and took a few pictures of the gorgeous view before continuing their hike.

Lando was the first to climb up the steep rocks back to the trail. He looked down while he waited for the rest, watching as Y/N struggled to find solid footing for the rather difficult climb.

“Let me help you,” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She glanced up at him. “I’m fine,” she said dismissively, right as her foot slipped. Before she knew it, she was reaching out for his hand, grasping it tightly while he steadied her. His grip was strong and he knelt closer to offer his other hand in case she should need it, gently pointing out where she should step next. His unwanted help annoyed her; she could do it herself, she just needed to regain her balance first. Regardless, she followed Lando’s advice, his casual yet firm guidance impossible to refuse.

Once back on solid ground, Y/N felt a flush creep up her neck, embarrassed by her misstep and flustered by how unusually kind Lando had been. She avoided his gaze, brushing off her clothes as if that would somehow dismiss the moment. "Thanks," she muttered quickly, hoping to move on.

"No problem," Lando replied, his voice softer than usual. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart for making her uncomfortable; his only intention had been to help. As he watched her avoid his gaze, he couldn’t help but think she looked cute – adorable, even, all flustered and embarrassed. The way her cheeks flushed slightly warmed his heart. Normally, she would only show him her strong and independent side, always refusing to accept his help or express her true emotions when he was near. She didn’t want him to see her in a vulnerable state, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. And whenever Lando managed to catch a glimpse of that softer side, like now, all he felt was the overwhelming urge to protect her.

Lando shook his thoughts away, and continued his way, not straying from the trail this time. He walked next to Max, while Pietra followed Y/N closely, letting a distance grow between them and the boys further ahead.

“What was that?” Pietra asked her.

“What?”

“You know, Lando helping you, and then you blushing like crazy,” she clarified.

Y/N laughed nervously, “What? It was nothing!”

“Mhm, sure. You guys already seemed weird at breakfast. Did something happen last night?”

Y/N sighed, checking how far ahead the boys were. She deemed them far enough to be unable to eavesdrop. “Lando cuddled me tonight,” she admitted hesitantly.

“What?” Pietra nearly screeched.

“Yes. I don’t know how it happened. I was as close to the edge as possible, like five more centimetres and I would’ve fallen off,” she told Pietra, looking at her over her shoulder, “I even threatened that I would choke him in his sleep if he crossed to my half of the bed, but it made no difference…”

“So Lando cuddled you in his sleep, and now he helped you up the rocks? I have a feeling he’s got a crush on you, babes,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Y/N laughed, “Oh, please, P. That’s not true, he’s been bothering me for five years now.”

She merely shrugged, a knowing smile on her face. Y/N rolled her eyes – she knew better than that.

They finished the hike half an hour later, not counting the brief stop at the viewpoint. Once back at the hotel, they quickly freshened up and wasted no time heading out again, eager to explore the nearby boutiques and picturesque streets lined with quaint houses. After grabbing coffee and a pastry at a small cafe, they began exploring the local shops.

The group split up as they wandered off to different stores. Y/N found herself drifting toward a small bookstore tucked away on a quiet street. She’d forgotten to pack a book for the trip – not that it would have fit in her overstuffed suitcase anyway. She picked up several books from the English section, reading the backs one by one, trying to decide which one she should read this vacation.

“Now that seems like a good literary piece,” Lando said from behind her, startling her.

“Jesus, Lando. Why would you do that?” She said, grabbing her chest with her free hand, nearly dropping the heavy books in the other.

Lando grinned. “You’re too easy to scare,” he teased, casually leaning against one of the shelves. “What are you looking at anyway?”

Y/N handed him one of the books. “Hm, a romance novel?” He said curiously and she flushed at the implication.

“Not just a romance novel, it—”

“Anything where the main characters kiss is automatically romance, isn’t it?”

She sighed; Lando grinned.

“Why are you here? For as far as I know, you don’t read,” Y/N told him, taking the book from his hands, weighing her options.

“Thought I’d check on you. Make sure you didn’t get lost,”

Rolling her eyes, she put all books but one back in their places. “More like make sure you had another chance to annoy me,” she huffed, grabbing another book off the shelf.

Lando watched in amusement as she flipped through a few of the pages before putting it back.

“Okay, I’m buying this one. Do you want to look at a book for yourself, or can we leave?”

“I’m good,” he responded with that annoying smug smile of his tugging at his lips.

“Alright, then.” She nodded before heading to the register and paying for the book. Lando followed her out of the store and led them to a different one where Pietra and Max were waiting. They visited more stores until they felt it was time for dinner. As they were already in the town centre, they just walked around a bit until they found a restaurant that seemed to please everyone.

Y/N sat down at the table they were directed to, hanging her bag with the book on the chair. When she looked up again she saw that Lando had already claimed the seat next to her. She shot a questioning look at Pietra, who was sitting across from her, subtly signing with her eyes, ‘What is up with him?’ Pietra’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, her eyes glinting with amusement. She gave a small shrug as if to say, ‘You tell me’.

Dinner went much smoother this time around, especially since Lando couldn’t constantly stare at her face from her side. They had enough to talk about after all they had seen and decided to discuss their plans for tomorrow ahead of time. It would be a beach day, so the timing of buying the book was perfect.

Halfway through the meal, Y/N felt the light pressure of Lando’s arm casually resting on the back of her chair. It wasn’t touching her exactly, but it was close enough to make her aware of his presence. She froze for a second, her fork hovering in midair as her body tensed.

Lando didn’t say anything, just continued eating as if nothing had happened.

Y/N glanced across the table at Pietra, widening her eyes slightly, slightly nudging her head to Lando’s arm. Pietra took a sip of her drink, suppressing a smirk as she met Y/N’s gaze.

She looked at Lando in annoyance before shifting in her seat, leaning slightly to the other side to put more distance between them.

Lando, of course, noticed. He turned to face her straight away with a confused look.

“Get your arm off my chair,” Y/N said harshly.

Lando raised an eyebrow, his expression mockingly innocent. “What? I’m not even touching you.”

Y/N glared at him, her voice firm. “You’re close enough.”

Lando chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by her irritation. “Oh, come on. I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly would be keeping your hands to yourself,” she shot back, trying to ignore how much his teasing actually made her pulse race.

Lando raised his hands in surrender, but his eyes gleamed with amusement. “No need to get all worked up.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the warmth creeping up her neck. “You wish I’d get worked up over you. I’d just prefer if you didn’t touch me.”

Lando shrugged. “For not wanting to touch me, you seemed to hold onto my hand pretty tightly earlier,” he teased, leaning closer while Max eyed you in surprise.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she recalled the moment he helped her up, a blush once again covering her face at the memory. “I was trying not to fall, I wasn’t touching you voluntarily.”

Lando chuckled softly, the sound annoyingly charming. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Y/N gaped at Pietra, who was still staring at her with a knowing smirk. She groaned in frustration before the conversation continued. Only a second later realising Lando still hadn’t removed his arm, she sent him another glare but didn’t bother asking him again.

The rest of the dinner passed relatively smoothly. Lando didn’t provoke Y/N much while they all chatted about tomorrow’s beach day and laughed about Max’s story of how he got stung by a jellyfish a few years back. By the end of the meal, Y/N had only needed to throw in a few comebacks and thought she kept her temper pretty well.

They paid the bill and left the restaurant, where the cool evening air greeted them. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, the lingering warmth of the meal dissipating quickly in the cool night breeze. The four of them strolled back towards the hotel, the streetlights casting shadows on the pavement.

In the elevator, Max and Pietra talked about what time they’d set out for the beach tomorrow, while Y/N leant against the wall, tired from the day’s activities, trying to ignore the fact that she and Lando would be alone again once they got back to their shared room.

When they finally reached their floor, Y/N said a quick goodbye to her brother and his girlfriend before trailing after Lando. She kicked off her shoes as soon as she entered the room and went in search of her toiletries. Once she’d gathered everything she needed, she made a beeline to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower,” she announced, before promptly closing the door behind her.

The clattering sound of the running water was a welcome distraction from her busy mind which, for some reason, kept replaying the moment in the forest. She could feel Lando’s calloused hand holding hers tightly every time the image reappeared in her head, the same tingling feeling emerging along with it, too. She could see the gentle look on his face, and feel her embarrassment at nearly falling on her face – it was like she was there again. The repeating memory was just as annoying as the man prominently featured in it. The man who seemed to always find a way to irritate her, even when she was alone, in the shower.

She banished the recollection to the back of her mind and finished up her shower. She quickly dried herself off and put her underwear and top on before she reached for her shorts, only to realise they weren’t there. She sighed deeply, mumbling to herself, “Of course, I forgot my shorts. Why would anything go my way for once.”

She groaned, running her hands over her face when another realisation came, “God, why did I only bring thongs?”

She squealed into the towel, a loud high-pitched sound, at her own stupidity.

”It’s all Max’s fault. If he hadn’t screwed up and gotten me my own room, everything would have been fine, but no!” She grumbled leaning her elbows on the counter, burying her face in her hands. “I’m going to kill him one of these days.”

Meanwhile, Lando had settled onto the bed, leisurely lying back, hands behind his head while he watched a random movie. Unbeknownst to Y/N, he could hear her frustrated mumbling coming from the bathroom, but he chose to remain silent until he heard her voice calling out louder.

“Lando?”

“Hm?” He responded uninterestedly.

“Could you please hand me my pyjamas? I forgot them…”

“Nah, I’m comfy. You’ll have to get them yourself.”

Y/N poked her head out the door. “Are you serious, Lando? I literally only have my underwear in here.”

Lando shrugged, not looking away from the TV, causing Y/N to sigh.

“Lando,” she warned, “if you don’t hand them to me, I swear—”

“I won’t look, promise,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

With a deep sigh, Y/N tightened the short towel around her before she carefully stepped out of the bathroom, scanning the room to make sure Lando was keeping his word. He was lying in bed, hands behind his head, eyes lazily watching the TV playing some rerun of an old movie.

She tiptoed to the chair, where she thought her pyjamas were, but they weren’t there. Her eyes narrowed. Of course, they’d gone missing.

Muttering under her breath, she began searching through the drawers, still holding the towel tightly around her body. She bent down, checking the bottom drawer when she heard a low, barely audible curse behind her.

“Fuck,” Lando muttered, breaking the silence.

Y/N froze for a second before whirling around, catching his eyes very clearly locked on her. “What the hell, Lando! You promised you wouldn’t look!”

“Well, you said you only brought thongs. That’s not exactly encouraging me to look away.”

“You heard that? You know what, never mind. Fuck off, Lando. Where’s your decency?”

“Non-existent,” he replied with a smirk.

“Look away, Lando.”

“I don’t see the appeal,” he said, his smirk growing.

“I swear to God, I’m going to kill you someday.”

“Have you thought yet about how? ‘Cause I’ve got a suggestion.”

She glared at him from across the room. “Do I even want to hear it?”

A playful grin spread across his face at her frustration, “Having you sit on my face seems like a pretty good way to go…”

“God, Lando. Get your head out of the gutter!” She exclaimed, mortified at his blunt response.

Y/N huffed in exasperation, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she turned her back to him, tightened the towel, and continued searching for her shorts. “You’re impossible,” she muttered under her breath, rummaging through the drawers with a little more force than necessary. Did he have no shame?

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room in growing frustration, her shorts nowhere to be found. She groaned softly, starting to doubt herself. Maybe she hadn’t packed them at all? No, that couldn’t be right, she wore them last night. They had to be around somewhere.

Lando, who had been watching her search in mild amusement, raised an eyebrow when she turned back to him with an accusing look. "You didn’t take my shorts, did you?"

He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”

“Because the worst is usually true!” she snapped back, still glaring as if that would somehow force him to confess.

Lando chuckled. “I swear, I didn’t touch them,” he paused, a mischievous smile on his face, “but you might want to check under the closet.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes but reluctantly looked under the closet, this time turning her back away from Lando – he had seen enough of her. Sure enough, her shorts were hidden underneath the closet, all the way to the back.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

Lando shot her a smug grin. “See? Sometimes the problem isn’t me – sometimes it’s you.”

She ignored his comment and grabbed the shorts, quickly making her way back to the bathroom to change. She let out a deep breath as she slipped into her pyjamas, mentally cursing herself.

Once she was dressed and ready for bed, she walked out, trying to keep her expression neutral. Lando was now walking around the room, collecting his toiletries and making a big deal of grabbing his pyjamas before disappearing into the bathroom while she settled into her side of the bed. She busied herself with her phone as she waited for Lando to come back before she turned off the light.

She pulled the blanket up high and immediately turned on her side. “Goodnight,” she mumbled, “you better stay on your side tonight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Lando replied overly sweet, as if mocking her warning.

She felt Lando shift in the bed as he lay down, but it stayed at that. Maybe she would have a peaceful night tonight.

– – – – –

Part 3

@dripostsstuff @willowsnook @f1fantasys @sarx164 @watermelonslut @diorsummer @zzfhcp @spideylovin @harrysdimple05 @pattydel @mayusaatma @leonie404 @mywritersmind @weekendlusting

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catiuskaa · 2 months ago

Note

i would LOVE to read your vision of boyfriend by dove cameron....... but w minsung x reader 😏

OH MARSYYYY marsyyyy ajdbkskfla youuu how dare youu take my sleep away from me like thisssss kabfoqbfoskj i barely got to 300 words and i was like “yup. there’s no fucking way i’m not writing this.” so @lyramundana @stayconnecteed, pasarla muy bien mis amores bskdbakd id a la iglesia después

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄-𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒.

sum. gentlemen like them make for a better boyfriend, and minho and han will let you know as soon as you come over… they know first times pave the way for more.

yes, the cursive makes a cute lil sentence, kill me

wc. 5.6k (me cago en todo mars)

cw. suggestive, smut! cursive: a lifestyle, the restaurant scene came out really high-class? fem!reader x dom!simp!minho x sub!needy!jisung, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend, so many things happen (praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, dry humping, oral fixation, marking, mild choking, corruption kink, use of pet names, accidental orgasm denial, oral (f rec.), begging, fingering (f&m rec.) dirty talk, overstim, mild bondage, unprotected piv sex [don't!<3], creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia). holy shit this is nasty man, aftercare (mandatory) and just have fun lovelies <3<3<3

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Minho has to breathe in, slowly as he smiles, a cat-like grin that has already threatened many people’s hearts, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him a bit closer.

His company that night —his company forever, if anyone bothered to ask or wanted to know— doesn’t ask why, merely tilts his head, watching, waiting.

“Twelve o’clock. Red and white dress.”

It’s a mumble that the older man makes with his eyes half closed, yet he opens them again after a beat of silence. He grunts, a low, whispered voice, not daring to interrupt the shy flow of music in the fine restaurant, but still takes Han’s chin in his hand, gripping it softly and tilting it a bit further to his left.

“That’s more like one o’clock— oh.” Minho doesn’t dare voice nor even question the way blood rushes to the deepest parts of his body when Jisung licks his lips and stares back at him, lowering his hand with a gentle touch that sets his skin ablaze.

He can’t help but let his eyes trail towards your figure again. The dress you’re wearing, a mix of colours that gingerly combines with that of their own suits, that clings to your shape in a way that threatens his own sanity and the stability of their plan, the impulse of running to you head first wondering what the crash would feel like. He stops himself, and breathes in again, deeper this time in an attempt to stop wondering how the dress would look just a few floors over them, in their hotel room, preferably on the floor, and he finally does, catching the faint scent of Jisung’s new cologne.

Alone. It’s funny to him. Ridiculous, yes, because only a fool would leave such a beauty like you in a situation like that —on your own, waiting in boredom close to death, or even worse, resignation—, and he’s sure that if he were in your place, he would’ve left a while ago. Hell, if he ever pulled something like that, he’d allow for Jisung to choke him —in a non-sexual sense, at least for once—, but he can’t help feeling giddy at the empty sight of the chair in front of you. Almost as if you were waiting for them to get close, to take a seat. And then, maybe you’d smile. Like a little treat.

A cute gift.

The image makes him smirk as he licks his lips. Minho knows he’d wrap you up in a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” He ponders the question lowly, still waiting for the waiter as the restaurant prepares their table. The one next to you, of course.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a moment. “What do I think?”

He gulps, and Minho reels in the way his boyfriend is already blushing, the red dust on his cheeks making him think twice and wonder if he could afford having a little snack before properly taking you both as a dessert, and he can’t help but snicker, tonguing his cheek.

“What are the chances?”

Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s palm.

“Well, I did as we agreed. And now the plan follows, jagi. I’m sure you can play your part now, mmh?” His voice is sultry, low, and a whisper, one that deepens Han’s blush and darkens his eyes even further, making his breath hitch to Minho’s amusement. “As if you can’t do whatever you want with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Min—”

“Welcome.” The whispered whine that Jisung had been just about to say dies on his lips, as tragically —yet not quite as brutally— as the unfortunate and inopportune waiter in Minho’s head.

“Your party for two is ready. Come with me.”

Shrugging away the comment ‘with you here, no one’s coming’, Minho follows behind Han and nods his head after being pointed to his table.

White-collar thieves could have plenty of money and exotic pairs of jewelry. Take any gemstone, for example. In unknown eyes, it may seem flawlessly perfect, but that’s merely a refracted illusion. Its core, deep in there, remains a secret, and it’d take a good crack for it to be seen.

No, this couple had it clear. A thief could steal anything but achieve nothing. And as Minho sends his partner in crime a wink, and the plan finally starts, its gears already set in place, he knows that whatever the outcome of it might end up being, nothing would give a better reward than trying to steal you tonight.

And it all starts with a silly trip of his boyfriend’s foot.

Jisung’s hand saves him from ending head first against your thighs —did he really save himself, Minho wonders, because the thought sounded like heaven—, and he watches as the younger one rushes back up, an apologetic grin on his face that he had seen so many times before and still made him want to kneel in front of Jisung and worship him to death and beyond.

“Sorry,” Ji smiles, bashful, his little dimples showing. He pretends to cringe, an action only Minho can see through.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Are you alright?” The genuine worry that slips through your tone softens the men.

“Of course. Yes.” Jisung chimes right back. “Such a kind lady.” He grins, pulling his hand in front of him.

Minho is just watching, and the feeling of witnessing such a moment nearly has him bulging in his tailored pants as shy little Jisung kisses the back of your hand.

He can’t believe how obsessed they both are with you, enthralled at the mere thought of having you closer, and he doesn’t care, needing more, more of your confused smile as you stare at his boyfriend, more of the gentle blush that creeps up to your cheeks, more of the way your hair is neatly tied up and away from your face, feeling the impulse to ruin you on the tip of his fingers.

“What’s a place like this doing, surrounding a beauty such as yours?” Minho smiles, taking a seat at his table. Calm. Mindful. With the plan in his head.

You chuckle so politely that it makes Minho fidget with his rings, a laugh so melodic that tickles his heart and warms his insides.

“I stay in this hotel.” Minho knows. He’s seen you before.

“Alone?” Jisung smiles, a bit cheeky, sitting and moving his chair at an angle, making it easier to keep the conversation going.

The way you sigh makes them both angry and giddy. They had seen your partner before, and they almost couldn’t believe their eyes, genuinely wondering what had the ugly man done to deserve such an angel. If it were for them, not for too long.

“Up until twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t, but…”

Crystal clear. They both can see the resignation in your eyes, and Minho can’t help but feel it trail up his skin, needing to do something about it immediately.

“I know it may seem too straightforward,” his mouth is dry and he can feel his ears turning red. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra company tonight. Right, jagi?”

The smile he shoots at Jisung is soft and sweet, feelings conveyed between layers and layers worth of things he hasn’t said yet. A comforting grin that Ji matches, holding his hand from below the table and giving it a light squeeze, catching it.

“Yes. It’d be a pity, using that wonderful dress on such a dull night.” His boyfriend turns to you, smiling widely. “Join us?”

God, yes. The squirm of satisfaction that threatens to leave past his lips has him fidgeting with his fingers, cracking his knuckles in an oh-so-giddy attempt to hide just how excited he is when he sees you stand up and grin sheepishly, moving your chair and settling on their table.

If one tried and overthinked it too much, it wouldn’t work. People tend to feel those kinds of things, the rush, the nervousness, the desperation. Not attractive on a stranger in the slightest. And Minho knows he’s one lucky bastard just getting to sit with you at the same table, sharing sentences with Jisung across the rounded table with just a blink and a cheeky stare through his lashes.

And as the night goes on, sneaky glances, touches, soft hands over yours, their eyes deep in colour, on you as you wine and dine, the white-collar thieves swiftly steal your heart for the night.

A fever dream. You find no other way to word it, how they get under your skin and into your head, how their cheeky antics keep getting you closer and closer in a way that almost baffles you. You can’t even think about that sad excuse of a boyfriend you have when Jisung’s hand brushes your arm again or when Minho’s eyes lock on yours, almost undressing you under his gaze.

You couldn’t call it a red flag. After all, their collars are pure white.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Jisung can’t hold back any longer.

He opens the door to their hotel room for you, and in an unrestrained need, grabs your wrist and finally pulls you to him.

Minho smirks, closing the door with a thud by leaning on it, watching as his boyfriend ruins and smears your lipstick, giving it just a bit before he pulls him from the back of his shirt, tutting at him.

“Such a needy little slut, mmh? Couldn’t even wait for me?”

His hands thread on Jisung’s hair, pulling in a way that has him already on edge. Minho takes his blazer off under the eager eyes of his company, and also takes Ji’s red one, leaving both on the couch that sits in the corner of the room as he licks his lips and takes his hands to his boyfriend’s neck, kissing him deeply, hungrily, humming a snicker when he feels his cheeky little hands tugging and pulling on his white shirt.

“Brat.” He whispers on his lips. “We have to treat our guest first, don’t we, jagi?”

Heat pools on your lower belly, disarmed as the two gorgeous, disheveled men stare at you with a glow in their eyes so deep it could fuck you alone. Both stare at the other with a sly grin on their faces, the phrases they want to say hidden behind the opacity of their eyes, clouded in lust.

Cheekily, Minho grabs Jisung by his belt, speaking at mere inches away from his lips.

“Be a good boy and hang on the door the do not disturb sign, mmh?” His eyes trail from Han’s neck, reeling on his heavy breathing and how his big brown eyes flutter when his hand teases him, tickling his skin with a brush of his fingers, doing tender and slow motions, opening the lower buttons on his shirt and going down his happy trail.

Jisung only nods weakly, in a daze as Minho lets go of him, blinking slowly and letting out a playful chuckle when he teasingly smacks his ass as he makes his way to the door.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Your throat feels dry and you yearn for the moment in which you’ll finally drown in Minho’s lips. He can tell, approaching you slowly, his steps barely making a sound on the carpet below.

His hands brush away the few hairs that Ji got loose, his hand traveling from the shell of your ear to just a bit after your pulse point. “Such a beauty.” Your heart swoons as he whispers, something that sounds more for him than for you, which does nothing but worsen the situation below your dress.

Licking your lips, you watch as he leisurely sits on the edge of the bed, two fingers teasingly making a ‘come hither’ motion as he spreads his legs, making space for you between them, his tailored clothing hugging his lush thighs in a way that nearly makes you salivate.

“I won’t bite, gorgeous. Not unless you want me to,” he teases, his hands stroking your knees while he sits just a short step or two away from you.

The sentence not only makes you shiver in anticipation, but also makes a small part of you wonder if there could be anything you wouldn’t let these men do to you. Dare I say non-existent, the list seems to be pretty short, as you nibble on your lip and answer to how he pats his thigh, taking a seat.

“There we go.” He grins with a low hum, his hands traveling far past the fabric that covers your thighs, grabbing and kneading the skin under his grasp. “Wonder how long it has passed since you’ve been treated right.” He clicks his tongue. “We have to do something about it, don’t we, jagi?”

He’s talking to Jisung as if you weren’t there. As if they’re taking you, a pretty diamond gingerly falling into their white-gloved hands, and —make no mistake—, you’re letting them, and it’s the end of the story, because you’d be a fool not to.

Besides, it’s already too late to back down. You want this. You couldn’t care less of what happens to your boyfriend after he left and scurried back wherever, attempting to leave you with the burden of paying for everything again without having to deal with the consequences nor the guts to face you. He was going to have a fun time, arriving at your previously shared room and finding that your things had been already packed and you were no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving behind you not only the bill of the restaurant —both his and yours, and then the one you had with Minho and Jisung, of course, an autograph on the receipt and all— but of the entire week you had been abroad, for all the times he had been tricking you and pulling your leg.

Tonight, you weren’t just being stolen. You were being freed.

“What makes you tick? Mmh, gorgeous?” Minho gets you back from your mind, naughty hands traveling underneath your dress and playing with the back ends of your underwear.

He’s dying to kiss you, and he will —he will die trying and he’d be happy to do so—, and he can see it in your eyes that you want just as much, the dark of his reading yours with an ease that does nothing but aggravate the situation, knowing that if he were to kiss you as he had been thinking —ever since he and Jisung had seen you and your boyfriend— would cause you more things than neither you nor him could process, leaving both of your minds blank, wet, legs tangled with one another.

Minho cherishes the way you tremble in his grasp, feeling Jisung’s hands surprise you from behind, playing with the zipper of your white and red dress.

“Baby, you’re already grinding on my thigh.” It’s teasing, it’s a menace, and he fucking loves it, seeing how said sentence darkens both your and Han’s eyes. “What are you thinking, mmh? Want us to figure you out as we go?” He licks his timidly swollen lips, his hands traveling down your legs to take your heels off, discarding the red sole shoes by the end of the bed.

He kisses Jisung over your shoulder, and a moan leaves your lips when said motion —him moving forward, that is— makes him tense his thigh underneath you.

“Jagi, do me a favour.” He whispers on his boyfriend’s lips, next to your ear, as if he’s telling Han a secret you shouldn’t know —but you don’t care whether you should or shouldn’t. You’re already going to hell for cheating on that low-life you call a boyfriend. Could be the wine speaking, or how your pussy is already leaking, but if you’re going to hell, you’ll make it so that these fine gentlemen help you reach heaven first.

“Ladies first, okay? Let’s treat her how a princess deserves.”

Jisung’s eyes smile as he bites Minho’s lip, finally taking your dress off of you, lowering the zipper in a way that his hand strokes your skin as the dress goes further down, and doesn’t stop kissing him, even when his greedy hands take the dress off your shoulders, and travel forward, tickling you menacingly, from your belly to your chest, teasingly playing with the little bow that decorates your white bra before letting his fingers go further up your cleavage.

Minho’s hands move your hips against his thigh, starting to feel the wetness and warmth not only on the fabric between his leg and your sweet sweet core, but on his skin.

He chuckles, panting on your ear as Jisung’s lips hungrily travel to your back, kissing and scratching with his teeth. A man blinded crazy by lust, his hand finally reaching your neck.

The way the action makes you moan is almost obscene, your cheeks as red as Jisung’s forgotten blazer and trousers. His grasp, gingerly cold, as if the rest of his warmth was traveling to other parts of his body —parts you weren’t complaining to be feeling against your lower back—, was a little bit over your collarbone, and it drove you wild.

“Hyung—” It’s a whine so desperate that nearly has him crumbling apart. Jisung’s eyes are teary when Minho’s lock into the dark brown full of lust that they have turned to. Merely pecking his lips, Minho smiles.

“I’m going to eat you alive.” It’s a desperate groan, and his partner’s eyes only glow in a darker shimmer, as if he yearned for just that. “Go on, jagi. Have fun.”

Before you can expect it, Jisung lets out a moan, grabbing your waist and pulling you from Minho onto the bed. Your impending release gets ruined, and you whine, your hand unconsciously traveling to your face.

As the younger one hurriedly finishes taking your dress off of you, discarding it somewhere on the floor —a view that, later on, would make Minho grin cheekily— said gentleman moves and lays down next to you while his partner leaves hickeys all over your inner thighs.

Only pants, whines, and moans leave your lips, low and dimmed, overwhelmed by all that you’re feeling, hiding behind your hand. But they’re gentlemen, after all. Ever-so-observant, Minho’s smile is sweet when he takes your hand and interlinks your fingers.

“Beauty,” he calls, his voice sultry. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

It takes a shy, confused shake from you for him to tut at his boyfriend, and Han stops his antics, licking his lips, his eyes glowing as he strokes your thighs, gingerly comforting you out of your daze.

“Like a traffic light, yeah? Green for when you want to keep going, yellow when you want to slow down, and red if you want to stop.” His hand softly moves, trailing soft motions on your cheek. “Don’t wait for us to ask. If we’re playing the figure-it-out game, I want to hear you moaning ‘green’ every single minute. Good?” You blush, nodding. “So. Colour?”

You give it a thought. You’ve brought up things like this before to your boyfriend. Things he shamed you for. Things you had been wanting to do for a while. And as you stare back at Minho, his eyes widen for a moment when he sees you smirking lightly.

To hell and heaven with it. It had been a close call before, back at the hotel’s restaurant. It’s stupid now, and you can’t believe you almost ran away back to your room and wasted such a divinely given chance like this one.

“Green.” You smile. “Figure me out better than I know myself.”

Jisung’s mind is completely foggy and hazy, his hands kneading your thighs, waiting, panting at your sudden forwardness. He can barely form a coherent thought, his mind consumed by the need to keep going until your taste is all that he knows.

You lift yourself, sitting on the bed, as the focus of the two men’s attention while your hand reaches for Jisung’s chin, and he’s dead. He’s gotta be, because as he moves to keep feeling your soft grasp on him, he swears he stops breathing.

“I’m going to kiss you.” It’s an announcement. Not quite a question but a warning, a narration of sorts. It keeps Minho waiting for a movement, something, whatever, anything to be able to follow what they had started, surprised by the newfound shimmer in your eyes.

And you can only confirm the whole chain of unbridled thoughts that haunt you —that you want to devour them with kisses, that you would let them eat you whole, unashamed, unrestrained, and overly needy— when, after closing your eyes, you erase any space that was between your lips and Jisung’s.

It’s not the butterflies in your stomach, but your own pulse rumbling in your ears, so loud that you think that either of the two men to whom you knew crystal clear that you were going to give yourself to tonight could hear it without making any sort of effort.

Nasty, desperate, wild. Jisung is gone, set on making any trace of red lush lipstick disappear from your lips. He starts kissing you more passionately, taking both of his hands to your nape, pulling on your hair in an attempt to get you even closer to him, the need for oxygen merely a necessity far less important than to keep kissing you and lick away your strawberry lipstick.

“This is crazy,” you pant, gasping for air.

“You make me crazy.”

He’s breathless, and he just can’t stop kissing you. Not when you’re giving yourself back to him with almost the same intensity, the raw need for more overperforming any sort of kissing skills that Jisung thought he had before. Matter of fact, he can’t think. Not when his hands travel from your waist, your skin like a canvas he’d die to keep marking, trailing a teasing path up your back, making you shiver until he finally undoes the barrier that keeps him from touching, and finally tasting —licking, spitting, marking, fondling, kissing, biting, better if it’s all at the same time— your breasts. He swiftly takes your bra off of you, as if it burns. It would’ve made you laugh, but as he cages you against the mattress the only thing you can do is moan.

Yes. Yes. Yes, More. Please. Don’t stop.

There’s a light bounce of the mattress when Minho takes a seat behind you, and Han whines when you leave his lips.

You’re a mess. There’s no other way to describe it, and Minho loves it. He loves how you’re in between Jisung and him. How you’re drooling and moaning, your head leaning against his shoulder as greedy little Hannie goes back to where he was heading before. He loves how you’re not holding back anymore, your right hand pulling on his boyfriend’s hair and your right one on his nape, gingerly playing with it as you squirm under the pleasure that Ji’s mouth brings you.

“Beauty,” Minho’s voice is impossibly low when he calls for you, pressing soft, tender kisses on your pulse point. You whine, a strained ‘yeah?’ that kills him. “How do we feel about this?”

You open your eyes, not really aware when you had closed them, and you look at Minho’s soft hands, his rings shimering under the room’s indirect light. It’s a lace, your fuzzy brain tells you. It has the words Dior written several times on it.

“G-green…” it’s a whine, it’s slurry, and it turns to a hitched breath when Han’s fingers slide inside you with ease, curling and thrusting until you can’t do anything else but moan and whine, trembling as you come, pleasure hitting you in waves.

You cling onto Minho like a rock, as much as you can, his body behind you stroking you in a way that makes you shiver while Ji helps you ride out your high.

“Look at him, princess.”

His tone is slightly mean, and you sigh, feeling his arms surround you.

“He came just from tasting you.”

You’re still a bit out, panting, but your eyes turn to him, whose head is leaning on your thigh. One of your hands moves to stroke his hair, and you grow hotter watching how he shudders for a second.

“He was grinding against the mattress. Like a little horny slut.”

It’s shameful. Minho’s tone is one for mocking. He’s… torturing him. And yet he looks like he might just come one more time from that alone.

“M-min…” Hannie whimpers, a slurred sound of pleasure.

“Oh, beauty. He even wants more.” Jisung’s eyes open, staring at you two from below, and he moans.

You blink, but slowly, you seem to get it. Or, if you asked Jisung, you were a godess sent straight-out from heaven.

“But can he… beg like a… a pretty slut?”

Minho nearly comes untouched at your tone. The way they’re already corrupting you, how you’re degrading Jisung already, watching how he’s unconciously grinding against the mattress again, overstimulating himself.

“Ngh, fuck… p-princess…” his hands travel to your thighs, clinging to them like a lifeline.

You’re unsure of what to do, because you know what to say, holding back for a second.

“Beauty,” Minho kisses your neck. “What’s that brain of you thinking, mmh?”

Your blush covers your whole face, and you smile, as if you’ve been caught on a white lie.

“I… want to, um. Want you to do to him what you did to me.”

Jisung freezes in his place. Minho’s eyes darken. “Keep talking, beauty. Spare no detail.”

Your shyness fades as you look at Ji’s face, reeling at how he moans softly, his body just a tiny bit spent, yet he’s paying close attention to you and your words, not wanting to stop even for a second. The intensity of his stare makes heat hit you, unexpected yet welcomed.

And with hooded eyes and weak legs, you turn to face both Minho and Jisung, letting go of what you’re thinking without giving yourself the chance to second guess it.

“I want you to finger him. While you fuck me. And then I want him to fuck me.”

Perplexed. There are little to no words Minho can manage to say, if any. He knows that he’s a sentence away from losing himself completely to the sensation, your mind and body now completely under the control of the aphrodisiac that is their company and undivided attention, and the intense pleasure it induces.

“Hyung.” Han’s eyes are teary, and he looks so pretty.

Why would Minho resist?

He takes you by your wrists and pulls you towards him, kissing you in a way that makes your mind and body completely submissive and compliant. There it is. Minho is finally kissing you, claiming you with each stroke of his tongue. And now he holds no restraint, his hands exploring your body, his touch becoming more urgent and passionate with each moan that goes past your swollen, kissable lips.

His body presses even harder against yours, pinning you against the mattress as he kisses you deeply, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Minho bites down gently on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he continues his assault on your senses, his desire for you growing more and more intense.

He moans softly into the kiss, his hands wandering along your body, his touch hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you —and he can’t, he’s well aware that you might be his last meal, and he’d be happy about it— grabbing and marking and touching all he can reach. He breaks the kiss briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin as he pants heavily, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

"You're driving me crazy, beauty," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with lust. "Can't get enough."

“Minho, please,” you whine and beg, shivering when he stands on his knees, looking at you from above, a dark, nasty shimmer in his eyes.

He pushes Jisung next to you, face down ass up, which only makes the latter moan, desperate to be touched again.

“You know what, beauty?” Minho grins, mad, crazy, horny, and all of the above, as he takes back the Dior lace and softly moves your hands over your head, making a pretty bow on your wrists, almost as pretty as his needy princess. He’s thankful Jisung wanted to buy that perfume.

“I’m going to fuck you. Because you want to, don’t you, beauty?” His snicker brings heat to your whole body, and it hits you where you’re restrained, Minho’s hands pinching and teasing all over your torso, watching you crumble and whimper underneath him. “And I’m going to make him come too. You two want to be used like little toys, and it’s just what I’m about to do.”

He bends down to reach for the lube in the bedside table, but uses that opportunity to meanily bite your cheek. It feels warm under his tongue, the skin red, not only from the teasing bite but from how deep you’re blushing.

Minho keeps talking while he slowly removes your ruined panties and Jisung’s soiled underwear.

“I’ll fuck you so good, beauty. So good you won’t ever feel the same, if you fuck that scum you call a boyfriend. I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even remember his name.”

You don’t know what happens first, but surely, Jisung and you start whining and moaning, panting as Minho fails to keep a steady pace on both of you, his thrusts irregular as pleasure takes hold of him.

He’s reeling in pleasure, whispering into your ear in between moans and grunts how good you feel, how tight your pretty little pussy clenches around him, how you’re going to milk him dry as he keeps pouncing on you. “If y-you, ever, ever, ever doubt who you belong to…” he moans, watching you cry in pleasure, listening to Hannie’s slurred babbling, failing to get a good grip on the bed sheets. “Remember… that you can always come back… princess…”

After all, his duty as a thief wasn’t only stealing. He wasn’t going to complain when he’d kill for you to sit on his face. Just for starters.

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to come on his own palm, shivering in pleasure, panting, but smiling at you, and —with his other hand— grabbing yours while you moan and whine and whimper, so close once again.

T-too much— Don’t stop. Yes, yes, please!

Moaning so beautifully, Minho crumbles. His words are slurred as he whines, something about filling you up that makes you see stars as he somehow thrusts even deeper.

“There, there, ah… f-fuck, I can’t…”

Dazed, fucked-out, drunk and lost in pleasure, you’re only able to let out louder sounds, tugging at your restraint as the Dior bow keeps you grounded, and Jisung’s now clean hand —you missed when that happened, yet you’re not bothered enough to question it— presses figure eights on your clit. And not even a minute later, you’re both gasping and moaning, and you throw your head back as he comes inside of you.

It takes a moment for the three of you to move. For a minute, the world stops spinning, and you relish the warmth of his bodies, next and over you, your head still fuzzy with pleasure.

You and Minho whine when he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of heat over you and the emptiness inside you. Jisung is quick to fix the first one, softly moving your head over to his shoulder, and he leans his chin over yours.

“Hey, princess.” He still has a red hue on his cheeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re matching, if not worse.

You hum, weak, and he can’t help but giggle. His soft hands cradle your face, and he sighs, stroking your nose with his tenderly.

“I’m really happy you joined us tonight.”

And with the strength you have left, you merely move to kiss his palm, your eyes closed. They remain closed when Minho comes back, even when he softly moves your arms and links them behind his nape.

Han heads into the bathroom first, making sure the water of the bathtub is warm enough before sliding inside, helping Minho put you down, leaning your head against Ji’s shoulder and in between his legs.

You’re half asleep, but you smile when Minho’s hands stroke your legs. Your legs feel sore and you’re a blink away from the best sleep of your life, but first, the best night of your life makes sure to take care of you after all the fun.

Two pairs of hands clean up the mess they turned you to, and you’re so happy to be taken care of as sweetly and as gently as they are doing, that you weakly peck Minho and Jisung’s lips.

No words are needed, and Jisung hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades. Minho links his hand with yours, fondly staring at the two of you before him.

Thieves like Han and Minho are masters in their craft. With professional care, they dry your body, tender touches fully lulling you to sleep when Jisung grabs one of the discarded white-collared shirts and gingerly closes its buttons. Bathed, spent, and tired, they settle you in between them, with your back to Minho, and Jisung kisses his boyfriend’s hand, covering all of you with the bed’s blanket.

Sure, maybe you didn’t do all that you wanted that night. But you don’t mind it. Warm, clean, and thoroughly satisfied, you’re fine with the need that hits you even after you wake up. You want to be theirs so much, and despite the estrangement, it’s a fact that doesn’t change —not even after it dawns on you that neither you nor them introduced themselves, and you don’t know their names.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

kats, who needs a high —infinite, even— dose of grass, stat.

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