#god suspenders are so hot and for what

[violetgauze]

... suspenders...

[iiboronii]

shoutout to whoever david tennant's stylist is for rivals

[m1dn1ght-r0t]

Eyes Wrapped in Wool

Yandere! (ex) husband x amnesiac! fem reader

TW: manipulation, toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of (potential) forced imprisonment, coercion A/N: pretty sure amnesia doesn't work this way (i'm no medical professional) but pls suspend disbelief for the sake of the plot ahahah

Your husband never expected things to turn out this way. But by some stroke of luck—or perhaps divine intervention—you ended up bed-ridden in the ICU, suffering from multiple bone fractures and a terrible, oh-so-terrible, traumatic brain injury. Just last week you were talking his ear off about how you've had enough. How you were done with him controlling what you could wear or who you could see, his suffocating clinginess that devolved into explosive rages when you spent time focusing on work or with friends instead of with him, the negging, the snooping, the smashed plates... Jesus Christ. You just never knew when to shut the fuck up, did you? At some point he had stopped listening. Chalked off your dramatic tirade as nothing more than you acting up because of your period—merely white noise. How many times have you guys had this same broken record conversation? Yeah, he knew this marriage wasn't smooth-sailing. If it were, you'd be less opinionated, less bitchy, more pliant, more dutiful. But what relationship was ever perfect? So, he waited for you to run out of steam, as you inevitably do, before adding salt to the wound:

“You know baby, if you weren’t parading around in those slutty clothes of yours and acted your grown age for once, I wouldn’t be behaving that way.”

The scrunch of disbelief mixed with disgust on your face only spurred him to double down. “And maybe if you actually committed to this marriage like a devoted wife would, rather than prioritize your career and practically everyone over me—your husband, need I remind you—then we wouldn’t be having these issues. Ever considered that, hm?” He purposely dragged out his words, a patronizing lilt to his tone, in hopes of reminding that thick, dumb skull of yours that he always knew best.

It wasn't until you had thrusted the divorce papers in his face that he grew silent, the severity of the situation beginning to creep in. ...What? You couldn't actually be serious... right? This was just some lover's spat. A temporary blip that'd be smoothed over with a few intentionally placed saccharine words and hot make-up sex. Like always. So why the fucking theatrics? Are you really gonna be a bitch about this and d— When you slammed the front door shut with your packed bags in tow, leaving him to stew in your parting words—that you deserved better, so much better than him, and that if he didn't sign the papers, he'd be hearing from your lawyer—did the gravity of it all finally sink in. By the end of the week, your voicemail was battered by his countless furious messages. Are you done being a flighty little piece of shit, huh? What the fuck do you think you're doing? I swear to god, baby, I'm gonna drag your ass back here. And if I have to lock you in some basement and chain your hands and legs so you'd never think to leave me again, then so fucking be it. Divorce? Yeah right. Over my dead fucking body. Then came an unknown call. It was like whiplash, really, to first hear that you had been involved in a major car crash, and then, upon rushing to the hospital at neck-breaking speed— "I'm afraid she has retrograde amnesia", the doctor solemnly informed him. He could cry. Oh, he could fucking cry.

On the outside, anyone could see how distraught he was, his hands trembling as he processed the diagnosis, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Poor husband that he was, having almost lost his beloved wife in a freak accident, he now had to deal with the news that she didn't remember who he was. Inside, however, raged a war he couldn't reconcile: what was harder? Holding back the tears, or pretending those very tears were out of sadness rather than pure, unbridled joy? Because what this neatly packaged situation had presented him with was a do-over, a chance to mend the broken marriage teetering on the cusp of divorce. And like hell he's about to let you throw away a three-year connection like some ungrateful cunt when he loves you so, very much.

~

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

As he walks up beside your hospital bed, he can't help but revel at how vulnerable you look. The slight furrow in your brows hinting at your confusion, the way you curl in on yourself as if to protect yourself from who is no doubt a complete stranger in your eyes, and your meek "Who are you?"—a far cry from the usual feisty, snarky attitude you used to dish out.

But perhaps most rewarding of all is the tentative gaze you offer him, eyes filled with a sort of curious glimmer, free from the hostility, disappointment, and hurt you'd flashed his way. You didn't look at him with hate. You simply want to know who he is.

Oh, aren't you precious? He'll gladly feed you his carefully spun narrative until you're full of nothing but adoring love for him—the embers of your thoughts about divorce and leaving him snuffed out for good.

"I know how confusing all of this must be for you. Take all the time you need. I'll be right here with you, as your husband, helping you fill the gaps, okay baby?" He delivers this with as much patience as he can muster, softening the edges of his words to avoid spooking you. But you're not soothed. If anything, you're more overwhelmed than ever. "M-my husband?" You echo, tasting the foreign word, sticky like warm toffee on your tongue.

"And...and my family? Where are they?" Your disorientation is a sight for sore eyes; how badly he wants to devour you right now. “Dead,” he intones, a script he’d been desperate to act out ever since you said your vows. The jarring news pulls a barely audible whimper from you, your eyes widening a fraction.

Shit. Too cold. Too careless.

His expression softens, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a facsimile of sorrow as he injects a note of pity into his voice. “They died when you were very young, you see. I’m sorry.” He’s really not.

"What…? How could that be? So my p-parents, they're both—" Your breath hitches, tears welling at the corner of your eyes.

At that, he gently grabs your bandaged arm, wanting to comfort you. But when you flinch slightly, he has to resist the urge to snap at you—Oh, cry me a river. Who the fuck cares?? I'm right here, aren't I? I'm right here, damnnit, so look at me!

Instead, he tempers the resentment that's still fresh in his heart after the divorce stunt you'd pulled by reminding himself that he's supposed to be your kind and gentle partner.

So he settles for cradling your hand in both of his like it's fine china, grazing his lips over your fingertips. "But you have me, sweetheart. And I'm not going anywhere."

He half expects you to question his story—it wasn’t very convincing, even to his own ears—prepared to be barraged by your endless streams of “No, you’re wrong!”, “I don’t believe you!” or some other similar outburst.

But when all you do is gaze up at him with cinched brows, seeking reassurance, blinking at him so sweetly with your hand still snugly warmed in his, he pauses. That’s it? No suspicion, no skepticism, no outburst? Hah! He has to physically restrain himself from snorting because how fucking easy can this get?

Maybe the collision had completely scrambled your brains, rewired you to be more stupid, a little slower—exactly how he likes you.

"You trust me, right?"

And when he feels that subtle twitch of your fingers—what he gathers is your attempt at squeezing his hand back for confirmation—accompanied by the sight of your small, almost shy nod, he breaks out into a giddy smile at how utterly adorable you’re being.

Fuck, it’s hard not to already feel high off these micro-doses of innocence and receptiveness from you. Emboldened by your intoxicatingly sweet naivety, he dares to be a little greedier, creeping to perch on the edge of your bed, his hand now moving to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how worried sick I was when I got the call. I thought you had…” He trails off, his implication clear. His face is mere inches from yours now, breaths as featherlight as his fingertips mapping every divot on your face.

“I love you.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip, the act agonizingly slow. “So, so, so much.” Each whisper spills out heavier than the last, mirroring the increasing pressure of his thumb—your lip almost bruising from how hard he’s pinching them.

How long has it been? He can’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of your touch, your skin… eons too long without your pillowy lips pressed against his has left him completely starved.

“You can’t leave me…” A murmur too quiet to pick up. His gaze, now half-lidded, drifts downward in a drunken daze. “My wife. My good little wife. You love me too, right?”

Without warning, he leans in to close the minuscule gap.

And it’s all too fast and soon because you can feel the suffocating heat of his proximity, the chilling shared breath floating between the tight space. It’s all too much. So, in the last second, you hesitate, pulled from your stupor as you turn your head away.

But he’s not having it. Not when you’re already in the palm of his hand and he’s so fucking close. When he can already taste the opportunity to finally take out the trash and parasites leeching off you, to call up that godforsaken shithole you call a stable, steady-paying job and quit on your behalf, to have you all to himself—a blank slate to knock up with several kids and mold into the perfect little housewife he's always wanted you to be. God, he's already hard at the thought.

Grabbing your jaw firmly, he jerks your face back towards him, thumb roughly wedging between your lips and prying your mouth open.

“Baby.” The endearment spills out, sharp and cold, stripped of any warmth it might've once held.

His gentle veneer cracks ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, you see something else. A flicker beneath the mask—raw, ugly, messy. It gnaws at the edges of your mind, dredging up something you can’t quite grasp. A memory?

“Gimme a small kiss, hmm?” Despite the smile on his face, there is no kindness to it. Just a twisted caricature warning you that you shouldn’t push further.

All of a sudden you feel like you can’t breathe, weighed down by the unsettling intensity of his stare. The man in front of you—the one claiming he's your husband and calling you “baby,” the one touching you—feels wrong. He’s a stranger, you remind yourself. An almost involuntary shiver runs down your spine, like your body remembers something your mind refuses to.

At this point, your husband has caught on to your rather obvious spiralling. He’s not an idiot—he can see your doubt giving way to panic. He contemplates smoothing things over by playing nice, but the selfish part of him ultimately wins.

He squeezes your jaw, nails biting into your skin.

“Kiss me.”

It isn’t a request this time.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ CHAPTER FOUR: FOR CUP'S SAKE

violet; 5,052 words; fluff, fake dating (is it tho?), situationship be situating, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, miscommunication, vi is very bad at feelings, simp!vi, first date, powder being powder, mention of skating competition, wlw, no "y/n"

summary: in which you and vi go on a cupcake date for the ages. oh, and skate america happens too, i guess.

a/n: WOOP WOOP its finally first date time!!! lmao i won't say much more for now ;) read and find out!

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ YOU TRY NOT TO FEEL too self-conscious, fiddling with the sleeves of your baby pink sweater.

“Hey!”

“Oh — hi!” you jerk up, smiling as you catch sight of Vi, and your throat seizes — god, that’s not fair, you think as your eyes flicker down the shape of her, dressed in tight black jeans and a cropped leather jacket, beneath which you’re sure she’s wearing nothing except a light gray muscle tank. You swallow, clearing your throat.

“Y-you’re not cold?” you ask, cursing your voice for the way it cracks.

Vi grins, shrugging, “Nah. I run pretty hot.”

“Right. Hot. Yeah.” You tear your eyes away from the sliver of skin peaking out from under her tanktop and jerk your head towards the cafe entrance, “Shall we?”

Vi sweeps her arm across her front, “After you, princess.”

You drop into a little curtsey as she pulls open the door for you and you prance passed. You don’t notice the way her eyes linger just a second too long on the bare skin of your shoulders as you shrug off your coat, or the way she puffs out a breath as her gaze skates up the long column of your neck, buttercream and swansong, the way it slopes up so gracefully into the thin cut of your jaw.

She shakes her head, forcing her eyes away as you smile at the server at the front.

“Just the two of us,” you say, and Vi swallows around the skip in her heartbeat at the word us. As if it means something more than just the word.

“Ohhh,” the server girl says, looking between the two of you as she leads you to a small table tucked into a corner, “first date?” she asks, setting down the menus as you take a seat and hang your fluffy coat on the seat back.

You chew on your lip, glancing at Vi for a second before smiling back up at her.

“Something like that.”

Vi nods, “First one here, anyway,” she offers smoothly, even though she stomach is hanging somewhere, suspended by her ankles as she drops into the seat across from you, doing everything she can to keep from salivating at the way your off-the-shoulder sweater frames your collarbones. And for the first time, she thinks that Powder might be onto something there, what with her near religious appreciation of them.

She makes a note to text Powder about this later.

“Well then, you should know we have a discount for couples — you get a free cupcake if you let us take a picture of the pair of you together and post it on our socials. Your faces don’t have to be in it or anything! It can just be your hands or whatever, but yeah! If that’s something you’re interested in…” the server lets her voice trail off as she looks between the pair of you.

You lick your lips, glancing at Vi, only to catch her looking at you with just as much uncertainty.

You turn back to the waiter, “That sounds cool! Let us think about it.”

The server nods, rocking on the balls of her feet, and for a second, she hesitates, but then, she leans in and says —

“And — sorry of this is cringe or anything but — I love your skating — big fan. Good luck at Skate America this week!”

She scurries off before you can say anything. You blink after her, a plume of heat working into your cheeks as Vi’s eyebrows tick up.

“Wow… geez, princess. You like… famous, or something?” Vi asks, her voice lilting into a tease even as you bury your face in your hands with a soft groan.

“Just… don’t…”

Vi laughs, glancing down the menu, trying to tamp down the wildfire thrum that she thinks is her heartbeat. She can’t quite remember the last time she’s felt like this, heady and light with that stupid, fluttery, butterflies-in-the-stomach sensation eating at her from the inside out.

“Huh, so the Pina Colada flavor looks good…” she muses, glancing up to admire the way you crinkle your nose and pull at your own menu, your cheeks still tinted.

“Y-yeah, and the — I think the Espresso Martini flavor is the one Mel said was super yummy,” you say, fiddling with the corner of your menu, your eyes flickering over the page without ever really settling on one thing.

“Sounds like we’ll be needing that free-cupcake coupon,” she says, her voice low.

Your eyes flash up, wide and uncertain as you search her face for a hint of… something. She shrugs, leaning back in her chair, fighting tooth and nail to keep the heat from eating too high into her own cheeks.

“’S like that girl said — our faces don’t have to be in it or anything, right?”

“R-right —” but your voice is drowned out by the sound of the server welcoming another couple into the shop. Vi freezes at the unmistakable, accented voice.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for weeks,” Caitlyn says, tossing a strand of midnight blue hair over her shoulder as the server walks her and Maddie to a table a few down from yours. You can barely see them from the corner of your eyes, but from her seat, Vi has a perfect view.

You can see her fingers clenching on the table, her knuckles going white.

“Hey,” you reach out, pressing your hand over hers, sighing as Vi jerks out of her reverie to look back at you.

“Huh? Oh, sorry —”

“You guys know what you wanna order?” the server swings back by your table, and you flash her a camera-ready smile.

“Yeah! Can we get the Pina Colada and the Espresso Martini? And —” you glance at Vi before cutting back to the server, your fingers giving Vi’s hand a squeeze, “we’ll take you up on that free cupcake.”

“Fantastic!” the server says, seemingly overjoyed as she reaches down to take your menus. “The picture’ll be candid, so don’t stress out too much about it — just… enjoy your time here, and we’ll show it to you with your receipt. Okay?”

You nod, still grinning. You think distantly that, if for nothing else, at least your years of camera training as a kid is paying off now, as you watch the server bounce away from you, her ponytail swinging behind her.

You turn back to Vi, only to see her watching you with a strange look in her eyes.

“Vi?”

She shakes her head, “Yeah? Sorry —” she puffs out a soft laugh, “I’m… not being a very good date, am I?”

“It’s alright — ‘s not like I’ve had much else to compare it against.”

“Wait — what?”

You bite your lips, your eyebrows ticking up at the incredulous expression on her face.

“What? Is that so hard to believe?”

Vi blinks at you, her expression open and incredulous.

“Uh — yeah. I mean —” she gestures towards you, “you’re —” she casts about for a fitting word, puffing out a breath when she finally settles on, “insane.”

You let out a startled laugh, your head tipping back, and a few tables down, you see the faint figure of Caitlyn glancing over towards your table, her eyes sharp as she watches you and Vi.

“Wow, thanks,” you intone, rolling your eyes even as Vi sputters.

“No! I mean like — have you seen yourself?”

You nod, propping a cheek on your knuckles, “Sure have — more than anyone should have to, honestly,” you drop your eyes to the table, fingers drawing abstract patterns into the pastel napkins.

Vi’s hand appears in your field of vision, running a thumb over the back of yours before she tugs your fingers loose and laces her own fingers between them.

Your breath hitches as your glance up.

“I could spend entire days lookin’ at you and never get tired of it, princess.”

Your throat squeezes as she reaches up to run a thumb along your cheek, coaxing your eyes towards hers.

“Y-yeah?” you breathe.

Vi nods, but before she can say anything else, the server bops back, with two massive cupcakes balanced on a pretty patterned plate. She sets it down between you, seemingly clueless to the way your hands have to jerk apart to make room for it. She giggles as she sets two miniature cocktail glasses on either side of the plate, tiny versions of the drinks the cupcakes are supposed to be emulating.

“And… here we are — the Pina Colada, and the Espresso Martini — the drinks are complimentary,” she leans down with a conspiratorial wink, “usually, they only come in pre-order packages but —” she lowers her voice, “I figured since it’s your first time here…” she lets her voice trail off, standing back up, looking mightily pleased with herself.

You flash her another bright grin, nodding, “Thanks so much! I’m sure they’re great.”

The server beams before she turns and flounces off to greet another set of guests.

Vi stares at you, a lopsided grin hung loose over her lips.

“Damn. I should come out with you more often, princess, if this is the kinda service you get.”

You laugh, “It’s usually not like this,” you say, “it’s a once every four years thing. When the Winter Olympics roll around and suddenly everyone remembers figure skating is, like, a sport.”

Vi chuckles, and it’s stupid, really, how easy it is to talk to you. How easy it is to tease you, how much she likes making you pout or squirm in your seat, how she’s hungry for the soft hitch in your breath, the part of your lips. How she can’t help herself when you lean forward and split one of the cupcakes with a plastic knife and push half of it towards her, pulling your finger back to lick the frosting from it, the way her throat bobs at the thought of reaching out to tug your finger into her mouth.

When you lean down to take a bite of your own half a cupcake, she licks her lips, thinking of the phantom taste of sugar on that might’ve lingered on your tongue.

“Wow —” Vi says, through a mouthful of cake, “this is good.”

You giggle, nodding as a crumb topples out of the edge of your mouth, “Mhm!”

And she’s so arrested by the sight that for a second, she forgets who’s sitting three seats from her, until she hears it — the loud, derisive laughter she’s come to know all too well.

Her head swivels towards the table before she can stop herself, and she sees Caitlyn smirking as she turns away, her eyes dark as she splits a cupcake in half with Maddie and pushes the larger half towards the ginger.

Vi swallows, the sugar in her mouth going ashy.

“Vi — you’ve got frosting all over your lips —” you say, laughing, your voice pulling her back as a soft finger runs across her lips and she’s left gasping at the sensation. She blinks, reeling ever so slightly as she watches you pull your thumb back and pop it into your mouth, your eyes sparkling.

A sharp spate of desire twists somewhere deep in her gut and Vi has to bite back a groan.

“You’re one to talk,” she murmurs, leaning forward to drag her thumb along the corner of your mouth, her heart thundering inside her chest as your bottom lip tugs open beneath her touch, easy as anything, and the hot kiss of your breath washes along her skin.

Sweet fuck.

The harsh tang of alcohol hits her tongue a second later, and her head spins to the sound of your breathy laughter. She watches you pick up the tiny Pina Colada glass in a sort of trance, your lips painted pink and perfect as you press them to the rim and take a sip.

Vi nods, her stomach flipping once, twice inside her as she reaches for your proffered glass.

She takes a sip without breaking eye contact, reveling in the way you flush three shades darker as she licks her lips clean of the foam.

“Yeah — whoa,” she clears her throat, “that packs a punch!”

You break into a fit of giggles so endearing Vi has to bite on her lips to keep from smiling too hard. And distantly, in the back of her head, a voice very much like Powder’s coughs up something like sounds suspiciously like pussy-whipped.

By the time you finish the second cupcake and the equally miniscule Espresso Martini, Vi is sure that she’s drunk, though perhaps not on the actual alcohol (of which she’s sure there was more than either of you had initially bargained for), but on the sound of your voice, on the way you tug on the ends of your hair when you’re talking, absently, and then how you flick them over your shoulder, the perfect bend of your collarbone dipping in the bright lights of the cake shop.

She’s drunk on the way your lashes flutter every time she makes you laugh, and god, does she really like making you laugh — she can’t remember the last time she’s tried so damn hard to be charming, pulling out all the stops (and on the first date?!) till she’s sure you’d have nothing else to talk about, but, despite that, the conversation flows, and flows.

“Wow, holy shit —” Vi leans back, running a hand through her hair as she checks her phone — 3:37PM. It’s been two and a half hours.

“Sorry, d’you have somewhere else to be?” you ask, and you sound so genuinely concerned, Vi has to laugh, shaking her head.

“Nope. Nowhere else but here, princess. Cleared my whole schedule for you.”

You flush, crinkling your nose, folding your napkin into progressively smaller and smaller bits.

“Oh. That’s…” your brows furrow as you stare down at the empty plates between you, “that’s really… nice of you.”

Vi clears her throat, her eyes catching on the shape of Caitlyn and Maddie as they stand up, Cait wiping her lips as she thanks the waiter with a tight-lipped grin.

She raises her voice just as Caitlyn walks by.

“Nothin’ less for my favorite ice princess.”

She leans forward to run a thumb along your cheek, but you stiffen as Caitlyn scoffs, brushing by your table with an upturned nose, Maddie following behind her, looking nervous as she glances between the pair of you.

You shrug off Vi’s hand as soon as they disappear, flagging down the waitress, flashing her another winning smile even as Vi curses beneath her breath. You’d put down your card before she can even fumble for her wallet, and you’d signed the electronic tablet faster than she has the time to wipe her mouth and stumble after you into the sunset street, a gust of wind picking up, whipping your hair into a silken frenzy around your cold-bruised cheeks.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You round on her, your eyes over-bright.

“Sorry, I forgot that this whole thing was just —” you suck in a long breath, eyes cutting away before they slice back to her, so sharp Vi almost winces at the contact, “a ruse for your ex.”

Vi gapes, her fingers digging so hard into her palms she thinks she might just draw blood.

“What? No! Oh, fucking —” she yanks you back as you try to turn away, and like this, with your windblown hair and the setting sun cast behind you, gliding the shape of you in gold, you look nothing short of ethereal. You swallow, curling your arms around yourself as the wind kicks up, your hair feathering around you like loose tendrils of sunlit silk.

“I —” Vi grasps for words she does not have, and you are so, so beautiful, even like this, even sad and wary, and bracing yourself against her, against the late autumn chill.

You lick your lips, “It’s okay, Vi… I knew what I was getting into when I —”

“No,” Vi says, so vehemently she almost startles herself. “That’s not — I mean — sweet fuck,” she swears, twisting around to rake both her hands through her hair, tugging harshly at the ends as she tries to center herself in the sting.

You stand there, watching her, holding yourself, the street behind you pooling with liquid gold.

Vi takes a deep breath, “I’m — I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — it was —” she pinches at her nose bridge, “I came here today for you,” she says, turning back towards you with an imploring look, hoping you’d understand. “Not for Cait, not for that new, ginger, button-cap mushroom girlfriend of hers.”

And at this, you let out a surprised laugh, shaking our head.

“Button-cap… mushroom?” you press a hand to your lips.

Vi grins, chuckling, “Yeah, sorry, it’s what my sister calls her —”

“Your sister… sounds like an interesting person.”

Vi rolls her eyes, “Interesting doesn’t even start to cover the basics with her —”

You laugh, and the sound is so inviting Vi almost groans.

“But… I — I mean it, princess. I came here today for you.”

“Yeah?” you sound so breathless, so disbelieving, that Vi almost tugs you to her, almost kisses you just to prove a point.

But she doesn’t, instead, she only nods, keeping her posture open as you look her over, and your arms loosen around your torso. You take half a step towards her, careful and a little hesitant.

Vi sighs, “Yeah. And… i-if you don’t believe me, I… I’d love to take you out on another date to prove it to you.”

You suck in a breath; your lashes flutter.

“Okay.”

Vi blinks, “Okay?”

You nod, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah,” Vi echoes, feeling her heart thread up against her voice box as she nods, shoving her hands into her pockets, “okay.”

You laugh, shaking your head to free yourself from the tangle of hairs that had collected in front of your eyes. You brush them away and Vi feels her breath catch at the sight of you, your cheeks kissed pink by the cold, your eyes glittering with a promise of the days and nights to come, the street lamps around you flickering on one by one as the sun sinks beyond the far horizon.

“Then… I guess I’ll see you, Violet,” you say, smiling shyly up at her.

Vi nods, “Yeah. I’ll see you, princess.”

She watches as you take a few steps back, before turning to make your way down the street. Vi turns herself to head the opposite way, feeling a strange lightness in her steps, almost as if she were walking on clouds, as she fights down the urge to whoops and click her heels in the air.

Halfway down the block, she turns and shouts down the street, startling a good few passersby as she calls —

“Good luck at Skate America!”

You jump, twisting around to find Vi waving at you from nearly an entire block away, her hair a bright gash of pink against the dying light.

You curse yourself for the way your heart skips at the sound of her voice.

“Thanks!” you yell, waving back, “I’ll uh — call you after!”

Vi nods, “I’ll be watching!”

“Promise?”

“Promise!”

You give your hand another hard wave before turning down the corner, and letting the oncoming darkness swallow the shadow of Vi, still waving, behind you.

“Unless you’re calling to tell me that you’ve successfully laid some Olympic-level pipe, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Powder, I think I love her.”

“Oh wow… first date went well, I see.”

“Powder, no — you don’t understand —”

“Actually, I think I might understand way better than you do —”

“She wore this pink, off-the-shoulder sweater —” Vi gulps in a long breath of the chilly air, squinting at her phone screen as Powder dabs electric blue dye into her roots.

“Oh, I knew I liked her.”

“No, like — this is insane.”

“Sis, I swear, if you don’t wife her up, I will.”

Vi frowns, “You’ve literally never met her.”

“Don’t have to. I’ve seen all her clips on Youtube. Hey, did you know she’s got one of those Vogue ‘What’s In My Bag’ videos?”

Vi stares, “Uh… no?”

Powder rolls her eyes, twisting a strand of dye-saturated hair up to pin it, “You’re missin’ out, sis! There’s an entire treasure trove of content relating to your little ice-cream sandwich of a girl-crush, and all you gotta do is search.”

Vi blinks at the Facetime call for three whole seconds before pulling up her Youtube app and searching your name, and sure enough, the first video that comes up is the Vogue What’s In Your Bag video with nearly half a million views.

She clicks into it, digging in her pockets for her earbuds, shoving one into her ear just as the ad finishes and the screen cuts to you sitting in front of a pastel blue background, waving at the camera, your voice soft in her ears as you say —

“Hi Vogue! Today I’ll be showing you… what I carry in my skating bag every day —” you laugh, crinkling your nose, and Vi’s heart skids in her chest.

“Yeah… anyways,” Powder’s voice cuts through the video; Vi almost drops her phone for the shock — she’d nearly forgotten she was still on a call with Powder, “I’ll let you… explore,” Powder finishes, grinning crookedly at Vi before dropping the call.

A second later, Vi gets a text that’s just a link to a playlist of 47 videos, detailing your greatest figure skating programs, interspersed with interviews you’ve done with a variety of fashion and lifestyle magazines, and then the line —

Don’t forget to take pee breaks!

Vi rolls her eyes, swiping out of Powder’s iMessage to the Youtube app again.

Vi re-clicks play on the Vogue video, sighing into the sound of your voice, grinning stupidly to herself, thinking that she’ll be locking in for a long, long night.

You don’t remember much of Skate America, only that Vi had sent you a quick text of — good luck, pretty girl, seven minutes before your short program, and you’d stepped onto the ice feeling weightless.

You remember Amara’s smiling face, Mel and Jayce’s excited expressions as you’d passed them on your way to the Kiss and Cry. You remember staring at the number on the megatron screen even as the crowd erupted into screams around you, Amara clutching your hands so tightly in hers you lose feeling into your fingertips.

A new personal best, and a World Record to boot.

You’d skated clean.

The days before your free-skate are a whirlwind of flashing cameras and early morning practices. Amara’s voice ever constant in your ear as she works you through your paces. You barely have time to eat and drink and shower before collapsing into bed each night, and before you know it, you’re stepping onto the ice again, the sweet chill of the rink greeting you like an old friend.

Four minutes and six seconds, exactly — Liebestraum.

You close your eyes as the music starts. A flash — the faint after image of a memory cast behind your eyelids — Vi watching you from across the hazy plastic as the rest of the hockey team jostles around her. But her, standing still, the only in-focus thing in a smeared rush of shapes and color.

You smile; your body moves without you ever having to tell it to.

You remember stepping off the ice, feeling the fire expanding in your chest, the soreness already tingling through your limbs. But Amara’s tugging you into her side, pressing her palms to your cheeks.

You remember glancing down at your phone to see a missed Facetime call from Vi, and a string of texts.

You smile, flicking open your screen even as you’re herded towards the Kiss and Cry booth. You barely have time to see all the exclamation marks before the announcer is calling out your scores. Amara lets out a pleased yelp, and the spectating audience roars their approval. You glance up at the numbers, the mental math you’d been doing since childhood stacking up as you realize, a little belatedly, that you’re in first place.

It isn’t till the afterparty, long after you’ve received your gold medal and posed for all the necessary podium photos that you finally come to, ducking out of the raucous party hall to give Vi a call back.

She answers on the second ring.

“Hey!” she sounds slightly out of breath as she fumbles with something in her ear. A second later, she settles on what looks like a bed, and it’s only then that you realize it’s nearly 11PM at night.

“Hi! Sorry — I know it’s late but — I saw you called —”

“Yeah! No that was my bad — I uh — I called you by accident while I was watching your stream —”

“You were?”

Vi laughs, “Yeah! Of course I was! I got a Peacock subscription and everything — and I promised I would, didn’t I?”

You lick your lips, feeling your cheeks prickle with heat. You lean back against the padded hotel hallway, silently thanking the heavens that you’ve only had two glasses of champagne.

“You — you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to! And holy shit! You killed it, princess! I mean — you skated totally clean!”

You nod, laughing, buoyed up by her excitement even as she grins at you through the screen.

“Yeah — I know! I haven’t done that since —”

“Your Chopin skate — and I mean — this time though, you were so —”

“Wait — how do you know about my Chopin skate?” you ask, cocking your head.

Vi stares, and then, a bright flush works into her cheeks, visible even in the dim lighting of her bedroom.

She chews on her bottom lip.

You hitch an eyebrow, “Vi… have you… been watching my skates on Youtube?”

Vi clears her throat, “Uh… I mean —“ you watch as she chews on her lip, the thin scar on her top lip made all the more obvious by the sharp light of the phone screen. “Is it really that strange to wanna watch the pretty girl you’re trying to date do the thing she seems to be put on this earth to do?”

You blink, “Trying to date?”

Vi purses her lips, “I — sorry if that’s weird — I know everyone thinks we’re already dating but…”

You shrug, staring at your own fingers, clutched around the phone, your baby pink nail polish a tad chipped at the thumb. You resist the urge to pick at it.

“We… we can take it slow, though… right?”

It’s Vi’s turn to blink, before a crooked grin splits her face.

“Yeah? I mean — yeah… we can.”

You smile, nodding as Vi fights not to do something stupid, like break into a riverdance right there in her bed, even though her limbs are trembling with the urge.

“Cool,” you say, glancing somewhere off screen, and Vi lets out a breath. A second later, light appears and you say something to someone who’s apparently come to look for you.

“Sorry,” you say, pursing your lips with an apologetic little smile, “I’ve gotta get back to the Gala party.”

Vi nods, “Go on then, pretty girl. Have fun. You… you deserve it.”

You flash her a grin that makes her heart crawl into the back of her throat.

“Thanks,” you breathe, and the phone screen wobbles, the camera flipping down as you fumble with it for a second, affording Vi a glimpse of the dress you’re in. And its nothing like the one you’d worn to sorority house party, but it still makes her mouth go dry.

“I’ll — I’ll text you after the party’s over then?” you sound unsure.

Vi grins, “Sure. I might be uh, passed out by then — early morning practice tomorrow. Gotta utilize the rink when all you figure skaters are gone, right?”

She winks.

You crinkle your nose and something in Vi’s chest stutters.

“Okay then — tomorrow?”

Vi blinks, “Huh?”

You laugh, color washing into your cheeks as you tug open a door and light floods your face, the unmistakable sounds of a party blaring into your mic. Vi gulps — like this, she can see the glitter you’d painted on your eyelids, the mascara on your curled up lashes. She can see the light sheen of highlight on your cheeks, setting off the pink of your blush, your hair a little messy, but gorgeous as it cascades around your shoulders.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” you say.

Vi nods, “Y-yeah — right. Tomorrow. Good.” She feels the heat eating into her face even as she bites back the urge to smack her head against the wall. God, she sounds like a fucking idiot.

You giggle again, the sound shuddering straight through Vi’s stomach to coil somewhere low and heavy in her belly.

“Kay… gnight, Vi. Bye!”

“Yeah, bye Princess.”

The call drops and Vi lets the phone tumble from her fingers. Her head slumps back into her pillows and she’s left staring at the pebbled ceiling of her messy room, the far wall tiger-striped by the tremulous yellow streetlight peaking through her half-closed blinds.

She presses a hand to her chest, if only to feel the frantic thumping of her heart, to reassure herself that it really is still there and not somewhere in the vast metasphere, having leapt clear through her phone screen, just to try and get to you.

taglist: @traiitorjoe@rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly@drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22@lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless@armins-slvt@lin-elizabeth @ryescapades @kingkamk @princesssmars @chobssss @mybelovedvi @bouqette @noietta @brooks-lin @ally-all-around @bunnyrose01 @stumpystump @lia-winther @folklore13lover @sawaagyapong @sevikas-whore @sunflowerwinds @taurtel @tourmalinetyrone @oidloid @marcylated @krisziepowlet @vikaswife @pa-co @devotedlyelectronicartisan @aliluvszs @elliecoochieeater

[bianquitasunderworld]

dave lizewski smut plsss i love nerdy dick 😭😭🙏

Parings: Dave Lizewski x Reader

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I love nerdy dick too twin, you so real for this omg😭‼️ (omg y’all i didn’t expect myself to make this kind of romantic sorry y’all i’ll write something crazy next time, this is long as hell ‼️)

How did this happen? How did Dave end up with the woman he thought was the hottest girl on earth, on top of him straddling his hips?

It all started when Dave decided to invite his girlfriend over to study. She definitely did not want to study—how could she, when all she could think about was how hot he looked while he rambled on about some silly, boring, and excessively long economic questions for class.

Truth be told, she didn’t care much about anything he was saying at the moment. Although that might sound rude, she didn’t care one bit. Her boyfriend sat at the edge of his bed, rambling, and he looked absolutely perfect. His glasses were set perfectly in place on his face, and the way the tip of his tongue stuck out as he delved deep into thought about his stupid economics homework—how could she possibly focus?

Dave was completely oblivious to her ogling. He wasn’t aware that she was practically salivating just from looking at him, he was oblivious to all the impure thoughts running through his girlfriends head, he was so focused on finishing his assignments he didn’t realize just how needy his girlfriend was.

Although Dave and you were in a very serious relationship you’ve never discussed sex it was uncharted territory for both of you. Dave was too shy and embarrassed because he was still a virgin it was a sensitive topic for him. Everyone is aware he isn’t the most popular guy at school.

You on the other hand were scared you’d send him running for the hills if you tried to suggest sex, It’s not like you both never did anything well…the furthest you’ve gotten with each other was making out and grinding against each other, and the ending result was always the same: Dave blushing, covering his lap with a pillow while he sat at his desk chair, and diverting into discussions about random comics and superhero references as if you didn’t just have your tongue in his mouth.

You kept eyeing Dave and biting your lip the thoughts running through your head were pure sin, you were convinced if Dave knew about them he would be a stuttering and blushing disaster. You didn’t think your staring was obvious until Dave suddenly redirected his attention from his five-minute monologue about consumerism, catching you in the act.

He looked back at you from his spot on the bed as he cleared his throat and spoke softly. “Are you okay? Is um something wrong?” God he was so sweet and caring he was oblivious to the fact that all you wanted to do was have him whimpering and groaning beneath you, your desires were consuming your mind. You always wondered what he would sound like when he was overwhelmed with pleasure. You’d caught a glimpse of it once, and since then, your thirst for more was like that of a desert traveler yearning for a drop of water.

“Yeah-Mhm everything’s fine sorry my mind was somewhere else for a second” you smiled at him trying to sound as if you weren’t seconds away from jumping on him. He smiled and adjusted his glasses before he nodded and turned his attention back to his paper.

You couldn’t stand it the last straw was when he bit his bottom lip in concentration you couldn’t stop yourself you swiped his paper off the table, the rustling sound breaking the spell between you. You set it down with a bit more force than intended, a bold move that marked your intentions.

Leaning in, you placed a hand on his cheek and pressed your lips to his, a surge of unspoken desires finally finding expression. His initial surprise melted away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. In that stolen kiss, the air crackled with a mix of passion and anticipation, as if the world outside had faded, leaving just the two of you suspended in that breathtaking moment.

And there it was, the culmination of all those unspoken desires, manifesting in the reality of the moment. Dave found himself reclined against the headboard, a sensation of both exhilaration and disbelief coursing through him. You straddled him, your legs encasing his body, intimacy that had been a distant fantasy until now. His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, which had turned a deep shade of crimson. The flush of his cheeks mirrored the intensity of the moment, a testament to the shared vulnerability and passion.

Your gaze trailed down, drinking in the sight of his bare chest pressed against you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath a captivating dance. The tousled strands of his hair cradled his head against the pillow like a crown, accentuating his allure.

His eyes held a mix of emotions as they lingered on your chest, a blend of curiosity and desire. The gravity of the moment weighed on the air, punctuated by his words, “Are you sure about this?” Your fingers, tender as a whisper, glided across his cheek, a gesture of reassurance and care. Leaning down, you captured his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, your intention clear—to grant him the choice to halt if his comfort wavered.

You sought to convey through touch what words might not fully express. His gaze held yours, a reservoir of affection and trust that spoke volumes. With a glance saturated in love, he nodded, affirming his readiness to explore uncharted realms with you.

He looked down between both your bodies, you were hovering over him, he bit his lip. Dave whined out a small, broken “please.” You closed your eyes savoring the way he spoken his plead was music to your ears.

You slowly sank down on to him, your mouth let out a small gasp at the feeling as he let out a deep groan, he felt the way you clamped down against him, the way he stretched you open had you groaning. You leaned down to kiss him gently, and gave yourselves time to adjust to the new sensation. Dave was girthy and long, he was bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, this felt different from all the times you’ve had sex this, this was love. You could feel the love radiating off of him as he kissed you and groaned into the passionate kiss.

Once you both adjusted, Dave gripped your hips and bucked his hips into you, his thrust were slow and deep, the noises of skin against each other and pleasurable moans filled the room. “Y-you’re so beautiful” Dave muttered and he looked into your eyes. “You’re so pretty davie” You couldn’t help but cry out as you reached down to play with yourself rubbing small gentle circles on your clit and slowly grinding down against him.

He whimpered and you felt his arms wrap around you, holding you in place. You could feel the tension in his body, the excitement building as he felt you against his body. You leaned down to kiss him gently, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tender embrace. You were addicted to the feeling of him inside you, the way he held you, the way he moaned your name. The pressure was building and you knew that you were about to cum you were trying to hold off trying to make this last for as long as you could. “Dave-I’m gonna cum--“ You cried out.

“I-f-fuck” Dave stuttered out as he felt you squeeze around him as you reached your climax, your body shaking with the intensity of the orgasm. Dave was groaning deep in his throat, his hips moving up and down as he came as well. You felt like you were one, a single unit, moving together in a synchronized dance of pleasure as he came deep in you.

Dave whimpered as you rode out your high against him, he felt himself growing overstimulated, he reached for your hips and kept a firm hold on you to keep you from moving, his body was shaking and sweat dripped from his forehead.

“I love you,” you murmured, your voice laced with affection.

“I love you too, baby,” Dave replied, a tender smile on his lips. With a gentle motion, he lifted himself and drew you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

Releasing yourself from the embrace, you let out a soft sigh of contentment as you reclined against the bed, Dave at your side. He seemed to shift, a hint of nervousness tainting his usual bashful demeanor. “So, uh, how did I do? Was it okay?” His cheeks flushed a shade of crimson that rivaled a tomato’s hue.

“You were amazing.”

[propertyofwicked]

HOT WINGS - LN

lando and his girlfriend take on the quadrant hot wings challenge

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open! ✧

warnings - literally none, quite short, some swearing. this is mainly just chaos if im completely honest

masterlist the playlist

“ok guys we’re starting off easy - this is siracha, i believe,” max said, looking to lando and y/n who sat opposite him.

“easy? i get lemon and herb at nandos,” lando whined, but still taking a bite from the wing.

“lan it’s just siracha? that’s basically mayo?” y/n told him, staring in disbelief as she saw him wince at the spice.

“easy for you to say - you smother your food in it like there’s no tomorrow.”

“max just ask the question,” she prompted, ignoring her boyfriends complaints.

“ok bossy - erm, what was your first experience of motorsport?”

the two of them answered the questions as best as they could, max trying not to laugh harder with each spice increase. even y/n was struggling, but not as much as lando who was now turning red and standing up to walk off the pain.

“this is “da bomb” - 300,000 on the scoville scal- lando are you good?” max started, interrupting himself at the sight of lando ripping the lid off the ice cream tub.

“just ask the fucking question max,” lando shouted, whilst rubbing ice cream around his lips, “please.”

“you’ve gotta eat the chicken first you muppet,” y/n chimed in, holding out a wing with the tiniest amount of sauce on it.

“hold my hand,” he asked her, taking the wing from her before grabbing her hand and interlocking their fingers. his grip was tight, and it didn’t help that he remained stood up, so her arm was suspended in the air as they both took a bite of the chicken.

“hold my hand??” max said through his laughter, “you’re eating chicken not giving birth?”

“the pain is worse,” lando told him, quickly dodging the wing that y/n launched in the direction of his head.

“y/n - can you explain this photo for everyone please?” max asked, holding up his phone to show an image of her, fast asleep on his bathroom floor, shoes still on and her head using a box of fries and donner kebab as a pillow.

“max fewtrell you PROMISED you’d never bring that picture up,” she shouted, covering her mouth as the spice travelled.

“answer the question.”

“i was drunk and tir- and oh my god is this sauce even legal?” she asked him quickly, sticking her tongue out to attempt to weaken the intensity.

“you know there’s still more, right?” he laughed at her, watching the way her arms reached out to lando. though she didn’t want him, she wanted the ice cream he was clutching to his chest, but he wouldn’t give it up.

“lando pass me the fucking ice cream or ill tell everyone that you cry when you cum”

“oh god please cut that out,” lando laughed, though giving up the ice cream quickly.

“no denying it though mate?” max laughed out, smacking his hand on the table.

“my mouth is in too much pain. should i be sweating? why am i sweating?” he continued, grabbing the bottle of milk in front of him.

“lando - can you explain what happened in this picture here?” max asked, holding up his phone once more.

milk shot from lando’s mouth, spraying across the table and onto y/n as he saw the picture, laughter taking over.

“i’m just not cut out for cycling,” he said with a shrug, before downing another mouthful of milk.

“why was his picture so much nicer than mine?” y/n asked with a whine before shovelling more ice cream into her mouth.

“you always look good y/n,” lando tried to reassure her with a smile.

“shut the fuck up,” she replied, flinging a spoon of ice cream at him, melted slightly as it landed slap bang on his nose.

“i know you’re lashing out because of the spice but honestly that is quite refreshing,” he laughed at her, using the back of his hand to wipe the food away.

“ok - hell fire hot sauce, this one is 2 million on the scoville scale.”

“2 MILLION?” lando shouted at his friend, y/n mouth just opened in disbelief.

“it’s ok baby we’re almost done,” she told him, rubbing his shoulder softly.

“i can’t wait to feel my mouth again,” he replied, ignoring her affection slightly before turning to face her as he wiped the sweat off her forehead, “if you look like that i don’t want to imagine what i look like.”

“rude.”

the two of them took their final bites, trying to remain sitting still as the spice took over but with little success. y/n took to crouching down on the floor, clutching at lando’s arm as he laughed at her.

“y/n, final question - who is the best looking f1 driver?” max asked, looking between his friends with a grin.

“ever or current?”

“ever,” max told her as lando whipped his head round to stare at her intently, but she didn’t notice as she had turned her head to stare into the camera directly.

“jenson button i am asking for one chance,” y/n said bluntly, bringing her hands into a prayer.

“jens- Y/N?? are you kidding me right now?”

“he’s a good looking man what can i say,” she replied with a shrug, smiling wickedly at her boyfriend, “at least he doesn’t have ice cream running down his face right now.”

“what about current drivers?” lando asked her, attempting to remain composed despite the fire burning through his mouth. she turned her head to the camera again, slowly.

“fernando alonso i am asking for one chanc-”

“FERNANDO?” lando shouted, milk spilling down his top once more, “when my mouth doesn’t feel like literal hell we are so breaking up.”

“but if someone asked you who the best looking member of quadrant was you wouldn’t say me,” she retorted before taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“well no id have to say max.”

“exactly.”

“y/n don’t be silly - look at him!” lando shouted back, hand extending to point at the man who was now wheezing in laughter, clutching at his sides.

[bbsmuts]

Anything For The Team ft. Jeon Somi

A/N: I'm writing this to fill in the gap between Mistaken Identity and the upcoming Field Trip finale, which will likely be a couple of months. It was a suggestion by @xiaoondc in light of Somi's appearance at the Tottenham Hotspurs meet & greet. I personally am in favor of the team because my man Son Heung-min plays for them. So consider this a filler smut for the long waiting period. I was originally meaning for this to be a quickie, like 2-2.5k, but I got a little carried away.

Unfortunately all my readers will have to suspend reality a little bit for two reasons. A, because Premiere League games happen in England, and Somi lives in Korea. B, because she'd likely get arrested for what she does in this one. So let's ignore that little snag and those pesky laws and read on. In addition to that, some parts of this were written without a whole ton of thought behind them, since this was never intended to be a long and drawn-out process.

This one will be a little more detailed and a little more accurate than After-match Entertainment, since I actually know how football works (soccer for all you dirty Americans), so I can actually write more of the game into it. Cheers.

And yes, there will more than likely be a part 2 with the Somi x NBA thing.

-상훈

Length: 6.61k

Possible TW: Spanking, choking, noncon, hate fucking, bondage, forced exhibitionism, degradation

Tags: Flashing warning (but literally), gangbang, spanking, choking, hair pulling, slapping, noncon, hate fucking, bondage, forced exhibitionism, spitroasting, DP, degradation

BRRRRRT

Somi's alarm jolted her out of her sleep instantly, the loud tone sending her heart rate through the roof as it always did when she was awoken from sleep suddenly.

"Whatsit..." She mumbled, picking up her phone and looking at it disdainfully. "Come on, it's too early to get up..."

The alarm note read "Don't forget the game, dumbass" and she immediately flew out of bed, suddenly more energized. There was a Tottenham Hotspurs vs. Aston Villa game happening that she had tickets to, and she didn't want to be late.

After speedily getting dressed and doing the quick essentials of her makeup, she went out to the kitchen to grab something to eat before she left. After bolting down her halfassed breakfast she hopped in her car and left, excited to see the Spurs playing in person.

–––

She arrived at the stadium a few miles dow the road later and had to stop and take in the size of the place; it had to be at least 150 feet tall and probably 400 feet long, a truly massive building.

She had her ticket scanned and headed up to her seat, which was located in a private box in the grandstands. She didn't like being in the crowd because she had sensitive ears and all the screaming made her head spin. So she preferred to be by herself. There was still a good fifteen minutes before the game started, and in about ten the players would be lining up on the pitch.

She talked a little to her best friend Eunbin, who unfortunately hadn't been able to make it, before the players were lined up on the pitch and she had to leave the call to see the action. Five minutes before the game, the team captains were to come to the sidelines for the coin flip to decide who got the kick off. As Son Heung-min, who she'd had a crush on for all of her teenage years and still thought was extremely hot, came jogging over to where the referee was, she couldn't help but mentally note the sculpted facial features, the lean and fit body beneath the tight jersey.

"Damn, he's so fine," she murmured to herself, imagination already jumping to filthy thoughts of what she'd let him do to her. Hell, for that guy? She'd do anything. Her mind showed her images of him choking her until she couldn't breathe, spanking her ass until it's red, pulling her hair, fucking her so nice and deep, ohh god yes...

The coin flip was completed and Tottenham got the kick off, so Son and Richarlison were the two who ran to the center of the field, waiting for the ref's whistle to start. The rest of the players took their positions around the pitch and waited as well; after a moment, in which the fans kept up their deafening roar, the whistle was blown and the game began.

Richarlison passed it to Son, who made a move forward past Barkley of Aston Villa, who'd tried to block him. Swiftly and expertly, he weaved and dodged his way between all the Aston Villa defenders and made an appreciable shot at the goal, but it was caught by Martinez, the goalkeeper. The Spurs fans let out a terrible groan, but it did nothing to dissuade the vigor of the team's players. Ignoring the missed goal, they waited for Martinez to throw it back into play.

—————————————————————————————————— A/N: Now, there's a reason I'm not a sports journalist, trying to write out what's usually a mostly uneventful 90 minutes isn't something I want to do here. Xiaoondc and I have planned to make that 90 minutes far more interesting, but for time's sake I'm going to skip around in the game so we're not all here reading a play-by-play of an imaginary game. So for the moment, let's say that it's the 77th minute, and Tottenham are tied with Aston Villa at 2-2. ——————————————————————————————————

It was beginning to look, to Somi, as if the Hotspurs might not win this one. Son, Johnson, and Solanke had been making some spectacular attempts, Son having scored twice, but Martinez's keeping was superb today. Likewise, Aston Villa's forwards had been putting forth a valiant effort against Vicario, but he had held strong and only conceded two goals.

There were only thirteen minutes left in the game, which meant someone needed to score for Tottenham. The trouble was, they were starting to lose focus and Aston Villa was taking advantage of that. If only there were something she could do about it, Somi thought.

And then, it clicked.

There was something she could do. It was risky, risky as hell, but in her mind entirely worth it. After all, she was in a private booth which would, logically, only be visible to people on the field, and...the entire other half of the stadium. The thought, depraved as it was, send shivers running through her and made her pussy wet. But amidst her thought, she saw Son get the ball and make a run down the outer left corner, and the Aston Villa defenders were closing on him...

The want to do it overtook her and with a deep breath, she mustered up her courage and pulled her shirt up, exposing the naked breasts of Jeon Somi to about 20,000 people.

Her mind, having been silent, was not screaming at her to cover herself up, sending the humiliation chemicals to her amygdala. But in the humiliation and risk, she found a thrill that suddenly had her practically panting with lust. With bated breath she waited, her own shirt covering her eyes, and she heard the Aston Villa fans across the pitch groan and then cheer. Confused, she lowered her shirt to watch the replay of whatever happened on the big screen on the other side. The eyes of Nedeljković, an Aston Villa defender who'd been about to steal the ball from Son, slid up to what was obviously her box and he slowed hugely, letting Son through with the ball with an expression of rapturous lust. Son made a great shot, but it was again blocked by Martinez, hence the cheers. Somi looked down at Nedeljković, whose teammates were throwing their hands up in real time, not knowing what he'd seen.

Confidence in her tactic increasing in light of her small victory, she retreated from the window and waited. She'd distracted Nedeljković for the second Son needed to get through, and if he could put the ball into the goal past Martinez, that would almost certainly guarantee the Spurs' win. Approaching the 82nd minute, both teams seemed to be getting more desperate. They started to get rougher, more agitated, and Villa came close to scoring twice. But then Somi's moment arrived, and Richarlison got the ball and sent it down the outside right. Taking another, deeper breath, she slid her pants and panties down her legs and propped herself up on the handrail guarding the window, sticking her ass out towards the crowd. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that the defenders were too focused on keeping him out to look up at her (for all intents and purposes let's say she's in a private box near their end of the field), but she saw Richarlison give a split-second glance at her, and whether it was due to her or not, he suddenly ran faster, and making it past the defenders, slammed his foot into the ball and sent it speeding towards the goal's unprotected left side.

But Martinez was too quick. He sprang to the side and swung his right foot into the ball to counter. It soared across the pitch to the waiting feet of a Tottenham midfielder, who was immediately swarmed by opponents and teammates.

Somi quickly stripped, tossing her clothes aside. Approaching the window again, she was acutely aware of phones being turned to her, fingers pointing, eyes drinking in her naked body through the glass, making her blush even harder.

What the hell am I thinking? She thought, heart pounding as she stood naked before the eyes of thousands. What if I get caught? What if they put me on the news?

But she couldn't lie to herself. If she was to be honest, she knew that she wanted to be caught, she wanted to have everyone know Somi as the slut who flashed tens of thousands of people just to help her team win. And most of all, she wanted Son to see her and know it was her.

The 89th minute. Richarlison came into possession again and took it down the same way as last time, but something was different. Son was running parallel to him up the middle-left side, and Somi knew what was about to happen. In a last ditch-effort, she swung her legs over the rail, propped herself up on it, and spread her legs wide, pushing her feet against the walls on either side for balance.

Somewhere amidst the immediate shame and embarrassment she felt, she registered the sound of the entire opposite side of the pitch collectively gasping and saying "woah". Looking down, she saw the Villa defenders get distracted by the sound and throw questioning glances around, until they spotted her. Mouths dropping open in shock, the lost their concentration and let Richarlison through. It worked! she thought, but instead of shooting for the goal, he sent it to the center, chipping it up over the heads of the starstruck Villa defenders. Son, perfectly positioned, jumped into the air, leaned back, and kicked the ball directly into the top-right corner of the goal, and landed the flip on his feet.

The stadium exploded, the yells of the players entirely drowned out by the roar of the crowd, and the ref's whistle blew three times to signify the end of the match. Son, yelling "YES!" with the rest of his teammates, was borne onto their shoulders. Jumping up and down with elation while the Villa players shook their heads and beat the air with their fists, they made their way over to the sideline, where they all hugged each other and beat Son on the back.

His eyes traveled up the grandstands to her box. She blushed furiously and nearly fell off her perch as she saw his gaze linger on her body before he smiled and nodded a silent thanks to her. Ready to swoon, she got off the rail and got dressed again, silently jubilant that her tactic had worked and, more importantly, Son had noticed her. And looked at her. While she was naked.

The mere thought was enough to make her exultation die down and replace it with pure lust. Undoubtedly there would be a lot of posts about what she'd just done, and a lot of speculation about whether or not it was her. A hot media debate that wouldn't die down for a long time.

Leaving the stadium, she was almost immediately spotted and pointed out by reporters. She realized she'd forgotten to put her mask back on, but she wasn't opposed to an interview.

The nearest one approached her with a cameraman.

"Miss Jeon, would you be so kind as to spare us a moment of your time?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Somi nodded. "Sure. And please, just call me Somi."

"Alright Miss Somi, who are you here to support today?" The mic was held up to her mouth once more.

"Tottenham."

"How do you feel about the game's results?"

"I'm quite happy with how the game ended, and I'm proud of my team for their incredible win."

"Miss Somi, there have been speculations that you were involved in something that has now gone viral, recognize this?"

Somi's cheeks blazed red as the reporter held up her phone, showing a blurred-out video of Somi's own body being flashed to the crowd.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"Some attenders of the game have been saying online that it was you who was in the video, are they correct?" The reporter's eyes bored into hers.

"I'm a very avid supporter of the Spurs, but suggesting I was involved in any public indecency is quite ludicrous."

She didn't directly deny it, either.

"So it wasn't you?"

"I was simply passionately supporting my team, any rumors of my involvement in public nudity are pure conjecture."

Her avoidance of a definitive answer definitely did not go unnoticed by the reporter, whose eyes narrowed before she concluded the short interview.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Somi."

Grinning to herself, Somi fished her mask out of her pocket and slipped it on before heading back to her car, feeling immense satisfaction in today's events.

...

Late that afternoon, her phone started ringing and she picked it up to see an unknown number calling. The Caller ID was someone named Ange Postecoglou.

"Hello?" She said, accepting the call.

"Good evening, this is Ange Postecoglou, team manager of the Tottenham Hotspurs. To whom am I speaking?"

"Jeon Somi," Somi said, ear-to-ear grin returning to her face. "How can I help you?"

"You're by yourself, I presume?"

"Yes, what is it?"

He lowered his voice. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Somi didn't even need to ask what he was talking about.

"Yes, it was." Her smile widened.

"Well, I'd like to offer you my sincerest thanks for your...erm...assistance today. If not for you, I fear we would have lost."

"Ah, well," Somi said, sitting down on her bed and dangling her feet over the edge, "I just did what I could for my team."

"We'd like to offer you an exclusive opportunity to meet the team."

Somi paused the swinging of her feet, surprised and immediately overtaken with excitement.

"Really?!" She half-shouted, then blushed at her own reaction. "I mean, really?"

"Really." She could hear the amusement in his tone. "They'd like to, uh...thank you personally."

His double meaning was not missed.

"When and where do I go?"

"A black limousine will be outside the Lotte World Mall at 6:30 pm sharp."

"Thanks, I'll be there."

After hanging up, she reverse checked the number and everything checked out, so, nerves jingling with anticipation, she waited the remaining hour and then got ready.

Having more time to prep herself for an outing this time, she selected her favorite and most revealing lacy black bra with matching panties. A short, ruffled black miniskirt and a skimpy red long sleeve crop top were her choices for outerwear.

(Yes, I know the outfit's not the same.)

Adding something a little hotter to her already done makeup from earlier and adding a subtle hint of her sexiest perfume, she gave herself the final touches to make herself as alluring as possible. And so, having prepared, she set out for the mall, which wasn't a far drive. She arrived at 6:27, parked her car near the mall, and waited outside it.

Only a minute later, a black limo with tinted windows and silver lining on them pulled up next to the curb, driver's side facing the sidewalk.

"Miss Somi?" The driver rolled down the window.

"That's me."

"Hop in."

She opened the back door of the limo and got in, immediately surprised by the quality of the interior. Beige leather seats, soft carpet padding, a massive moonroof spanning the entire ceiling of the car, several drink dispensers opposite the seats, a wine rack in the same place, and LED strip lights lining the entire thing. It was one of the nicest limos she'd ever been in, and after sitting down and giving the window separating her and the driver two taps to get him going, she quickly made use of the large bottle of whiskey sitting opposite her. Couldn't hurt to be a little tipsy meeting them.

A few minutes later the limo pulled to a stop in front of a massive building that she could only assume was the Spur's training facility. The driver disembarked and opened her door for her, then led her in through the front doors of the facility, then through a few hallways and a set of double doors. The doors led her back outside to a football pitch, where six of the eleven players who'd participated in the game were lined up on the opposite side. Son, Richarlison, Solanke, Johnson, Moore, and Lankshear, Son in the lead.

The driver left them and Somi, heart pounding with excitement and lust, approached the eleven.

"Mannaseo bangapseumnida, Somi-ssi." Son said, bowing respectfully.

Somi returned the bow. "Machangajilo, oppa."

Inwardly, as she greeted all the others, she found it a little ironic to be addressing each other so politely when they were most likely going to be fucking her senseless momentarily. Their eyes roved over her body, which was barely concealed by her outfit and left almost nothing to the imagination. They seemed hesitant, unsure of her allowance. She reached up to the hem of her crop top and stripped it off, revealing the scanty, lacy bra underneath. Immediately they seemed to become more confident, now that she'd shown them that she had no reservations. They closed in on her, hands feeling up her torso and sliding under her skirt. She bit her lip as their hands explored her body, feeling her arousal increase. She was quickly surrounded, various hands tugging at her skirt until it slid down her thighs, pooling at her feet.

"Mm, like what you see, boys?"

The only response she got was a powerful slap to her ass, which made her moan. Her slick was practically spilling down her thighs, a situation that did not go unnoticed by the team. Various filthy utterances filled her ears, the hands now roughly fingering her pussy making her gasp, pant and moan like she was in heat.

"Fuck, I want it so bad..." She bucked her hips into the hands, feeling her bra being unclasped and her breasts being freed. Hands slid over them as well, squeezing and pinching her nipples. She sank to her knees, grasping and feeling up the rock-hard cocks in their shorts. They wasted no time in ridding themselves of the shorts, revealing 6 throbbing shafts waiting to be sucked dry.

Somi eagerly jammed the first one into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth passionately. She raised her hands to jerk off two more as more spanks rained down on her ass from behind her. Each slap send a thrill of pleasure-pain through her, and she relished in the sensation as much as she could while going down Solanke. He gathered her hair into a loose ponytail and pulled her head into his crotch. Pumping his hips into her face, driving his cock deeper into her throat, he made her gag and choke on the saliva she inhaled.

"Yes!" She cried as he let her take a breath, pussy throbbing with need. "Fuck my mouth harder daddy!"

He thrust back into her mouth, her eyes rolling back as her throat was bulged. She moaned the fingers getting more daring with each passing second. Her breath hitched at the sensation of three fingers being pushed into her tunnel, her g-spot being ferociously fingered. Pleasure flooded her nerve endings, and her moans increased in volume, in desperation. The thrusts to her face got harder, faster, and she knew he was about to cum.

When a thumb pressed against her clit and circled roughly, she lost it.

Her orgasmic scream was muffled by the thick meat in her throat and Solanke's groan as he shot ropes of cum down her throat. She struggled to draw in oxygen past both blockages, and he pulled out to allow her to breathe.

She gasped in a breath and panted, letting herself fall back to the support of her arms. A large wet spot on the grass made it muddy where she sat, and before long they pulled her onto her knees.

"Please," she murmured as more fingers delved into her hypersensitive slit, the brutal thrusts putting her on edge again. "Please, I want your cocks so bad...please, daddy..."

A pair of powerful arms lifted her into the air, and from a glance over her shoulder she gathered that those powerful arms belonged to none other than Son Heung-min, who'd shed his shirt and shorts. The tip of his cock pressed against her entrance, making her eyes and mouth widen in pure shock and pleasure at the sheer size.

"Please, daddy," she moaned, feeling her hands being cuffed behind her back, "please fuck me! Fuck me so hard I scream and cum on your fucking monster, make me squirt for you, please!"

At this point Somi was shut up by the tip of Lankshear's pressing against her lips, which she opened obediently. Simultaneously, both of them pushed their hips forward, a lot of inches being pushed into both sides of her. She cried out into it, pussy being blissfully stretched out. She felt every inch, every centimeter, every throbbing vein and ridge.

And then they started moving from either side, the sound of skin slapping into skin echoing around the pitch. Her muffled moans, their groans, and the lewd schlicks of both his cock pumping in and out of her slick hole and the other four stroking themselves to the sight.

She closed her eyes and bobbed her head in time with his thrusts, trying to distract herself from or stave off the impending orgasm, but it was pointless. The way the veins on Son's shaft grated against her g-spot felt too good. Her moans turned to cries, which turned quickly to shrieks as the waves of pleasure tore through her, obliterating her mind momentarily. Lankshear pulled out momentarily to allow her to release the wail of pleasure that had built up in her lungs. Eyes rolling back, the sensation wracked her body and she squirted hard, drenching the group and Son's thighs with cum. She couldn't signal to Lankshear that she wanted his cock back in her mouth, so she rolled her eyes back, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue to entice him. He took advantage of her tongue being out to achieve deeper penetration in her throat, meanwhile Son kept determinedly pumping away at her pussy. She could tell both of them were nearing orgasm; the telltale moans and "fuck yeah"s didn't do much to hide it.

Lankshear gave out with a groan and buried himself in her throat, choking her and spewing his cum deep down her gullet, delivering a hard slap to her face that only got her going more.

Free from the member bulging her throat, Somi could now fully vocalize the pure bliss she was feeling. Son pulled her upright so they were facing each other, and she felt the steel-solid cords of muscle flexing to hold her up.

"Fuck, fuck, yes, yes right there daddy!" She cried. "Oh my god, yes, right there, you're so big, I'm gonna cum again! You're fucking me so deep, I love it, yes!"

What took her by surprise was Bissouma coming up behind her and taking advantage of her ass cheeks being spread.

"God, that's so deep!" She groaned, three quarters of the big dick in her ass in one stroke.

Son took one hand off her ass and slapped it, earning a yelp from her and more natural lubricant down below. Both fucked her harder and faster, spanking her more, pushing her closer to her third orgasm.

"Yes, yes, yes, more, please!" He took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and pinching with his teeth, and she threw her head back, humping into his thrusts desperately. "Ohh fuck yes daddy, please pound me harder, it feels so fucking good, yes! I'm cumming!"

"Jenjang, nado keuraeyo!" Son groaned, keeping up his pace. (Fuck, me too!)

He slammed her down onto his cock while jerking his hips up into her, reaching new depths inside her and firmly pushing into her cervix and causing her third orgasm.

"FUCK!" She saw stars as the pure sensation making fireworks explode in her brain. The orgasm ripped through her body like a gunshot, her nerves on fire with pleasure as she rode it out. She then registered their hot cum spurting into her womb and bowels, the surges of warmth triggering a fourth, mind-shattering orgasm. An overstimulated, moaning sob left her, tears welling in her eyes from the intensity of the feeling. Son gave her supple cheeks one more spank before putting her down none too gently.

She lay still on the ground, chest heaving, covered in sweat. The mud she'd created smudged on her ass and back, having turned cool in the absence of her body heat. Her brain had checked out; there was no comprehensible thought running through it at all.

They allowed her a couple of minutes of recovery time, and when she noticed them approaching she sat up, biting her lip with half lidded eyes. She got on all fours and wiggled her ass, smirking up at them.

"Ready for round two...daddies?"

...

She left the compound with her holes fucked wide open, cum leaking out of every single one, and a fair amount still on her face. She'd decided to keep it there a little while for some selfies.

"I trust you had fun?" Her driver asked once she got back in the limo.

"I did. Back to the mall, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

After the quick drive back to the mall and the selfies she had wanted to take, she thanked the chauffeur and stepped inside the mall to wash off her face. Deciding to go for a little walk over the Jamsil Bridge in the cool night air, she started the entirely deserted footpath.

She was about two third of the way through the bridge when a group of men - very muscular men, Somi noted - entered the footpath from the opposite side. As they drew nearer, she recognized one of them. Then two, then three. Then all five of them.

"No way..." she muttered, stopping dead in her tracks as she recognized five of the Aston Villa players, Nedeljković in the lead. And none of them looked happy to see her.

"Well, well, well..." Nedeljković said, tone low and menacing. "Look what we have here."

"If it isn't Jeon Somi," said Torres, voice laced with anger, gesturing for the other three to surround her from the back. "The passionate Tottenham supporter."

"And dressed like she's heading to her night shift at the local whorehouse." One of the voices behind her said.

She took a step back from Nedeljković, a feeling of fear rearing its head inside her. Surely they wouldn't beat her up? A five on one? With cars watching?

But the cars weren't watching. The cars were on the uppermost section of the bridge, and the six of them were directly beneath, completely out of sight. The fear intensified.

"What do you say boys?" Nedeljković asked.

She sensed the three behind her closing in as the two in front did the same; panicking, she turned around and tried to push through them, but their arms shot out and held her back. Nedeljković took her by the hair, bicep flexing with the force with which he was holding on, and pulled her head back to look at him.

"We're going to make you pay for what you did, Somi."

"Please," Somi whispered, not even attempting to escape for fear of further abuse. "Don't hurt me...

"Hurt you?" The entire group laughed, and he took her arms and pinned them to the fence wall she was backed against. "God, she's so naive. We're not gonna hurt you, you dumb bitch. Pretty little thing like you, we're gonna pay you back for what you did another way..."

Her eyes widened at the implication and her cheeks flushed red.

"No, please don't!" She struggled a little bit, to which he put a hand around her neck and pushed lightly. "Please...have mercy..."

Despite how scared she was of them, she couldn't deny that the position he had her in was making her very aroused. Being helpless like this, it turned her on to the point where she was literally trembling, cheeks flushed red and pussy wet again.

"Look at this, lads!" He said, grip tightening on her neck. "We haven't even done anything and this slut is already panting like a bitch in heat!"

His hand left her neck and trailed its way down her body, caressing her breasts, down her abs, and up her skirt, pushing a couple of fingers into her past the panties.

"Mmm~" She purred, biting her lip at the sensation and the fact that she was completely helpless to whatever he wanted to do.

"Yeah, you like that, you little whore?"

"Yes~" She bucked her hips into his fingers, gasping, her eyebrows arching upwards as he roughly palmed her clit and rubbed her g-spot. "Oh fuck - oh my god yes - just like that~"

He slapped her face hard, making her gasp again, and kept fingering her.

"When I ask you a question, you address me properly, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" She rolled her hips into his hand desperately, already on edge from his skilled touch. "Oh, please, sir, keep going, make me cum!"

She moaned desperately, needily, begging for release, but his fingers disappeared at the last second.

"No, please!" She squeezed around pure air, whimpering at the absence of the fingers.

"Shut up." Another slap landed on her face. "I said we're giving you some payback, not rewarding you."

He turned her around, and she felt leather cuffs being secured into place on her wrists behind her back. The next second, three fingers had been shoved into her pussy again, making her cry out.

"Fuck, that's it...ooh yess sir please keep going, just like that..."

"Shut the fuck up and take it." He smacked her ass.

"Yes, sir," she gasped, wiggling it as his fingers moved in and out of her.

"Oh my god yes, I'm cumming, fuck!"

But he pulled the fingers out at the last second, denying her the orgasm again.

"Fuck you!" She cried in frustration, an involuntary whine leaving her mouth again.

Quick as lightning, he darted around to where her face was and roughly grabbed her by the jaw, making her look at him.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Nothing!" She immediately became small and submissive again, made nervous by his aggression. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean it."

He sat down on the ledge and pulled her over his lap, lifting her skirt up over the swell of her hips.

"Now, you're going to learn what happens to bad little whores when they misbehave and talk back their owners.

He bent her over his knee and put his right leg over the backs of her knees, effectively trapping her, and started viciously spanking her over her panties, which did nothing to protect her ass from the relentless assault.

"Ow! Fuck! Sir, please, it hurts!"

"Of course it does, you dumbass whore!"

Tears sprang to her eyes at the continued abuse of her pinkened cheeks, and she struggled a bit, which only earned her harder smacks.

"I'm sorry, sir!"

"You better be fucking sorry!" He continued, heedless of her words.

And yet, in the pain of his powerful spanks, she felt her arousal spike. She arched her back into it, suddenly craving more punishment, more humiliation. She was totally, hopelessly turned on by the position she found herself in.

"Harder!" She begged. "Please, sir, punish me harder!"

"You hearing this slut?" He muttered to the rest of the team. "Begging for more punishment. Just a masochistic little pain slut, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir!" Her own submission driving her crazy with lust, she kept arching her back, wiggling her hips. He increased the force of the spanks, making her moan louder, and when he added the fingers back, she fell apart.

She barely recognized the voice that screamed out of her throat; it sounded most unlike her: high-pitched, desperate, needy. And in her body, among the orgasmic eruption inside, she recognized another feeling: Hunger. She wanted them, she wanted them a lot.

"P-please," she whimpered, her entire body hot and shaking, "please give me your dick, s-sir..."

"You hear that, lads? She wants our dicks."

"Please, sir," she almost whispered, eyes half-lidded, "I want it so bad..."

He positioned himself behind her and pushed into her, groaning at the tightness. He ripped off her panties, reached forward, and pushed them into her mouth; she could taste her own arousal and it only made her hornier.

"Fuck me...fuck me hard, sir, I need it..."

Fast, hard, brutal strokes were what she got in return. The sheer force of each thrust pushed her forward and made her ass and breasts jiggle. Though muffled by her panty gag, her cries could easily be heard by all.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, just like that, fuck me just like that sir! Ohh god it's so good, so deep inside me!"

He stopped momentarily, laid down under her so she was on top, and then resumed. A second cock pressed against her asshole and entered, making her double over, not expecting the sudden penetration. One of Nedeljković's hands reached up and grasped her throat and she bit her lip in arousal.

"Now, tell me Somi, are you ever going to do something like that to fuck up our game again?"

She shook her head, earning her a slap, which intensified her lust.

"Say it properly."

"No, sir," she moaned, "I won't, sir..."

"Good girl." She shivered. "You kept us from winning by doing that."

"Well, maybe if you'd – ohh fuck~...played better, you wouldn't have lost." She was playing with fire and she knew it, but it was worth seeing the surprised and angry look on his face. His hand closed on her face, pulling it close to his.

"You better watch what you say to me, slut."

"Get better at football."

He slapped her, grabbed her hips and started slamming his into them. Her moans turned to screams, her entire lower region being overridden by the sharp increase in pleasure.

"F-fuck, that's t-too much!" She cried, involuntarily bucking her hips, her body betraying her words. "S-so good!"

He ignored her and , keeping the impacts in time with his thrusts.

"Care to take that back?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean it!" She was going to cum again and she knew it, and there was nothing she could or wanted to do about it. She reveled in the harsh treatment, in the submission they required from her, that she so willingly gave. The throbbing in her asshole intensified, and another torrent of warmth shortly followed a groan, leaving Nedeljković as the last one in the game.

"Do you wanna cum?"

"Yes, sir, please, make me squirt for you!"

"If that's the best you can do then I don't think you want to cum. You'll have to beg me."

He slid himself out from under her and stood, his cock resting on her face as she knelt and looked up at him.

"Please, sir, please let me cum, I want to cum so bad! I want to squirt on your big dick, I need you to fuck me and make me cum again, please~"

"Oh, you need me to? Well, if you insist..."

He pushed her down onto all fours and knelt behind her, slapping her ass before entering her again in a single, well-lubricated stroke.

"Oh god yes," she groaned, feeling him push down on her head, ensuring she was under his control. "So fucking big..."

"Keep your pretty head down, Somi," he growled in her ear, his voice making her shiver with arousal.

"Yes, sir," she moaned breathlessly, trying to buck up into him to impale herself deeper. Her shouts and his grunts reverberated around the footpath, and she did nothing to stop them. Dimly, she recognized the feeling of the cuffs being taken off her, and she pushed herself up with trembling arms.

"Oh yes, fuck my little pussy harder!" He reached around, pressed his index and middle fingers to her clit, and rubbed hard, sharply spiking her pleasure. "Ngghh fuck yes! So deep, yes, yes, please don't stop! I'm cumming!"

His fist closed on her hair again, the vicelike grip unyielding. It took only a few moments before she herself closed like a vice on his cock, and she gave a wild yell as a stream of cum sprayed out of her. He grunted, breathing out heavily in an almost-groan as his own cum spurted deep into her.

"Oh god...oh fuck..." She breathed like she'd been running for miles, and her arms folded under the weight of her own upper body.

"God damn..." Nedeljković commented, getting dressed again, "Much as I hate this bitch's guts, she is a good fuck. Cuff her to the fence."

Wait, what?! She was woken from her stupor by the feeling of two strong hands lifting her up and dragging her to the fence, directly into the view of traffic. The leather cuffs clicked into place, leaving her sitting on the concrete with her arms above her head, and she was too weak to resist.

The three who hadn't fucked her stepped forward, finally unleashing their loads on her. Thick shots of cum streaked her thighs, abs, breasts, and face, the last few landing in her obediently open mouth. The three quickly got dressed and her brain was immediately awake as hell when they started walking away.

"Wait! I'm still here!"

"Yeah, we know." Nedeljković called over his shoulder. "I wonder how long it'll be before someone finds you?"

"Let me go! Please!"

They ignored her pleas and she settled back down, resigning herself to it. A flash of white caught her eyes, and she looked up just in time to see a phone being stowed back away before the car drove past.

"Great," she muttered to herself, feeling her face grow hot. "Guess it's gonna be a long night."

...

A/N: Yeah, I did just leave her there for all the traffic and walkers to see. Thanks for reading!

[total-dxmure]

✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER THREE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff. (A/N: here we are, the meat and potatoes. the fic is really kicking off. . . and they're already flirting?! ellie is so touch and affection starved that she nearly jumps out of her own skin every time you even look at her.)

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

In that halfway space between waking and sleep it was hard to discern what was real and what wasn’t. Your bed felt warm, sheets still tangled around your arms and legs. The weight of your blanket on your chest could easily be confused with another’s body, and so you felt yourself smile. Warm, happy, safe- 

Abby was behind you, her limbs expertly twisted around yours like she’d done it a thousand times before. . . and she had. 

Slowly you opened your eyes, staring blankly ahead of you into your pitch black bathroom. You recognized the fresh scent of your shampoo, and felt the way your hair still clung to your hot cheeks- wet from your shower the night before. It was like you were suspended in a memory, everything all soft and fuzzy around you. The dots weren’t perfectly connecting, and still you were happy. For a second you just laid there, unable to look down at the hand you could feel so vividly at your waist. Would you see Abby’s knuckles when you looked down? Would you see the rubber promise ring she had insisted on wearing? Everything always had to be even and fair with her. 

This morning felt familiar. Like you’d lived it before. Your breath left you in a rush when the bed creaked behind you. 

“Abby,” God, she was back. She was back and she was right behind you. “Baby?” 

There was a soft groan and then the arm tightened, bringing you into a warm chest. Her bicep squeezed your arm tightly against her shoulder, and all at once you were tucked in so tight. Confusion tugged at your features, and you mulled over exactly why you were clinging to her arm so tightly. 

“What’s wrong?” She whispered against your hair, her voice still thick with sleep. Still, her fingers stroked at your bare stomach. 

“I had a nightmare,” You mumbled, trying to recall exactly what had plagued you just seconds ago. You can’t remember now that you’re safe here. . . safe with Abby again. “You were gone and I was all alone.” 

Those moments came back to you in flashes. The ache, the constant pain of losing her, the “learning to live without her” that crushed you entirely. You turned around in her grasp, nuzzling your nose into the crook of her neck. You took deep inhales, trying to still your rising panic. You could feel the steady beating of her heart against your cheek, the warmth of her bare breasts against your collar bones. 

“I was gone?” She raised a hand, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, a few golden strands falling onto her forehead as she moved her head against the pillow beneath her. “You can tell me about it if you want.” She offered supportively, petting your back in slow circles. 

You don’t know why. . .  but you missed those circles. It felt like you’d been without them for weeks. Months. 

“I-I got a phone call. . . and they told me that you’d died,” Your bottom lip quivered, your eyes filling with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh pathetically at your unnecessary hysterics. Abby was right here. Everything was okay. “It felt like the longest nightmare I’ve ever had. It was horrible.” 

“You did so good though.” She whispered, her hands still stroking. 

Your muscles tensed, and slowly you moved your hand up her side, fingers brushing against her skin. You pressed a soft kiss against the underside of her breast, a tear breaking free past your lower lashes. This moment suddenly felt fleeting. 

“I did?” You questioned, pulling away to look at her. 

She was so beautiful. Like an angel had fallen from heaven and landed right in your bed. The sun was just beginning to rise, setting the line of trees just outside of your window ablaze. She was diaphanous and golden laying there beneath you. You were so lucky. You could barely breathe when she looked up at you like that, her eyes so thick with pride and love. 

“You did, baby girl. You stayed so strong.” She cracked a small smile, but it looked pained. Like she was also realizing that the two of you couldn’t exist here forever. “I need you to keep it up though, alright?” You couldn’t feel her hand on your back anymore, nor the softness of the sheets. 

“Please,” You sobbed out, reaching out to cup her cheek. She didn’t feel like anything. Like your hand was molded around a pocket of open space. Nothingness. She was about the size of the palm of your hand now, her urn sitting on the mantle in your living room. “Please don’t leave me again.” 

Her blue eyes stared up at you, proud and unwavering in their convictions, as they always were. . . always had been. “I’m never far. Pinky.” Promise. 

And then you were in your bed again, the alarm on your phone blaring. 

“Abby?” You mumbled, and you didn’t have to turn over to realize you were alone. 

Ellie was good at putting pressure on herself. It had always been a form of motivation, as cruel as it seemed. She couldn’t let today be awful. No episodes or meltdowns and no long bouts of silence. You were pretty and it really seemed like you could use a friend. 

Ellie could use a friend too. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown interest in a girl. She’d always been career driven with a one track mind. She was good at overworking herself and running herself dry. She hoped that you’d be able to use that to your benefit today. Ellie wanted to lose herself in something. . . in someone. She wanted to be useful for the first time in what felt like a long, long while.

So she woke up at the butt crack of dawn and took a shower. She kept her eyes shut tight as she washed herself and didn’t even bother to towel dry her hair before she was pulling on an outfit. Thick droplets of water stained the shoulders of her jean button up as she tied up the laces on her boots. She focused on one shoe at a time, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. Every once and a while her brain would wander, hellbent on self destruction, but with a small groan she’d remember the sadness in your eyes. 

She’d remember who she was before the accident. 

She moved down the stairs as quietly as she could, praying that Joel’s dog wouldn’t start barking once he realized that his new best friend was leaving the house. The keys to her old car were on the rack beside the front door, right next to Joel’s flashy new pair. He’d told Ellie over dinner that he’d been maintaining the beat up old Jeep the best that he could, meaning she at least had a little bit of freedom while she was back home. 

She locked the door behind her, the cool morning breeze stinging against her wet ears as she gracelessly stumbled down the stairs, juggling the bulky set of keys in her hand. A huge metal spaceship that Joel had stuffed into her Christmas stocking senior year, a neon green carabiner she’d bought at one of the gas stations closest to her school, and a few other childish charms that she couldn’t place any meaning behind swung from the nearly ancient keychain. Her sense of self expression and style back in those days was tacky to say the least, but she appreciated child-Ellie nonetheless. 

“You poor child.” She teased under her breath, climbing into the driver's seat and shoving the key into the ignition. She sucked in a breath and held it before cranking it up. 

To her surprise, the clunker started right up, though the engine shook the steering wheel a little when she put the thing in reverse down the driveway. She hadn’t driven a car since that night at the gas station. It felt a little weird to be behind the wheel, but even stranger to be back here. Jackson was a beautiful place. . . but it didn’t feel the same way that it had before. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her age or the changes that were happening inside of her. The streets still looked the same, aside from some very minor changes to neighbor's houses. She barely paid any attention to her surroundings when Joel had driven her through town yesterday, and she was a bit scared to see the differences. She didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts or do any soul searching, so she reached out for the radio, pressing play on whatever CD had been shoved into it last. 

Depeche mode began to blast over the speakers, and she let out a small sigh of relief. At least her music taste wasn’t horrible in high school. 

But it was no wonder she didn’t have a girlfriend. Ellie wouldn’t have dated little Ellie either, that was for sure. 

She felt a bit crazy to be driving in the opposite direction of town. Back when she lived here, town was the only place she was headed when she was allowed out of the house. It was no wonder why the two of you had never really crossed paths. She used to complain about how far off in the “middle of nowhere” Joel lived, but your farm had his ranch beat by fifteen minutes. The houses got fewer and farther in between, and despite how much Ellie truly did enjoy the city, she couldn’t deny how beautiful the countryside was. The sprawling fields, grazing animals, and splattering of wild flowers had her rolling down the windows of her car, ignoring the chill so that she could get a better look of her surroundings. 

Even the air quality was better in Jackson.

She’d been down this road a few times in her life, having been in the backseat of Joel’s car every single time. She recognized your home from her memories, but your last name didn’t mean much to her back then. She slowed her car down to a crawl, staring at the large sign that sported your family name proudly. 

Ellie would be proud of the farm too if it were hers. She bumped down the drive five minutes earlier than you had told her to show up, staring with wide eyes at your house. It was two stories with a balcony- white with green shutters. The wrap around porch was screened in, protecting you and any guests you might have over from bugs that thrive in the summertime heat. 

Your stretch of land belonged on a painting, and for a second she worried if maybe she wasn’t the right friend for you. This house was too nice and Ellie. . . Ellie wasn’t very nice at all. She'd only talked to you for five minutes yesterday, but she got the feeling that you were a "good girl". You were wholesome, which wasn't how anyone in Ellie's life would choose to describe her. She slowly made her way up your front steps, and for a second she wondered if she should leave. It would probably be better if she did. Ellie could always just lie and tell Joel that she couldn’t find your house. . . he’d probably drop it after insulting her about her bad sense of direction. 

Ellie couldn’t afford to get a crush on anyone right now either. It was horrible timing, and what would be worse is if you actually ever returned those feelings. How was she supposed to explain to you that she wouldn’t ever make a good partner? She couldn’t protect you from anything, not when any loud sounds or bright lights had her falling to her knees. She was careerless, depressed to the point where she had completely lost who she was, had a drinking problem, and was quite certain that she’d combust the second you’d touch her. She was touch and attention starved, but hadn’t remembered that she was even able to desire someone until she’d seen you yesterday- 

You’d be dodging a bullet if she hightailed it right off of your property. So she turned on her heel and stared at her boots as she began walking back down your stairs. Her feet kicked up dirt as she made her way back to her jeep, hand already reaching into her pocket for her keys- 

“Did I not hear you knocking on the door?” A feminine voice called out to her. 

She sucked in a breath so hard that she let out a loud cough, eyes widening as she turned around to face the porch. You were wearing a pair of dirt stained jeans today, though your hair was fastened back with a white bow. Ellie, despite her previous need to protect you from herself, couldn’t fight off the urge to get closer. There was something different about you today. You were a bit manic, your hands already busying themselves with straightening out a few of the potted plants on your porch. You seemed a bit anxious, but you didn’t comment on it so neither did Ellie. Any boundaries you had yesterday with her were gone. You flashed her a wide smile, sauntering up the drive so that you could wrap her up in a tight hug. 

Your arms were shaking as they weaved around her neck, pulling her in close. She froze, limbs locking up in surprise as she tried to fully grasp what was going on. You were treating her like an old friend, someone you were excited to see. Ellie didn’t know why you’d be so happy to see her. . . but then again, she was happy to see you. She remembered what Joel had said last night.

Maybe you were sick and tired of being alone. 

Your bare arms were cold too- freezing as her fingers accidentally brushed the backs of them. Ellie realized that she had gotten here just in time. If anything, she cursed herself for not showing up twenty minutes earlier, if only to save you from whatever had you this shaken up. 

“I probably knocked too quietly. Should have knocked louder, huh?” She mumbled, biting the inside of her cheek as she gave you a gentle squeeze. 

She wasn’t used to holding someone like this that wasn’t Dina or Jesse. You felt nice in her arms. Your muscles weren’t hard or rigid like hers, you were all soft and rounded edges. Gentle curves and arms ready and willing to embrace her. Flushed cheeks and silk bows. You smelled wonderful too- sweet and floral, like Jasmine mixed with honey. She didn’t want to let you go, and you didn’t seem ready to end the hug either.

You were still quivering. 

“Yeah, you should have.” You agreed, giving Ellie one last squeeze before taking a few unsteady steps back.

You hadn’t been completely sure whether or not she would show up today. Waking up this early was a lot to ask of anyone, let alone someone you had just met yesterday. Still, a part of you had hoped that she would be here. On days that were this bad you found it impossible to work, no matter how busy it kept you. You often spent “mental health days”  laid out by Abby’s grave or buried six feet under pillows and blankets in what used to be your shared bed.

Ellie’s presence changed things. 

So you squared off your shoulders and cracked her a wide smile, praying that it looked genuine and not forced. 

“Let’s hop in my truck and I’ll take you on a little tour of the property before we get started.” You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched the woman take a few steps closer to you.

Ellie looked like she wanted to say something but was holding herself back. You weren’t sure whether or not you would be able to handle her prying or the pity that would follow. 

Your fingers twitched at your sides, wishing so deeply that you hadn’t woken up at all this morning. Ellie was beautiful- gorgeous even. You would have been head over heels if you had met her years ago, before. . . well, before Abby happened. Still, her beauty wasn't enough to completely distract you from your grief. A part of you felt guilty for even finding her attractive as you slid into the front seat of the truck. 

Maybe that was why you’d had such a strange dream last night. Or maybe. . . maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. Maybe it really was Abby trying to tell you that it was okay to move on. That was confusing to even think about, and it made you count the months since her death on both of your hands, trying to gauge if enough time really had passed. You didn’t want to be alone anymore, but the thought of being in love with anyone seemed like an impossibility. Everything was broken. How could you ever love anyone the same way that you loved Abby? You’d just be doing that other person a disservice. 

That’s right, you were cursed. 

You could feel Ellie’s gaze on the side of your face as you made your way down the dirt road, up towards the hen houses. You blinked a few times, the apples of your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Slowly you met her gaze, lips twitching up in a small smile as she quickly looked away from you, nervous over having been caught. 

“My dad built ten large coops, so this whole fenced-in area right here is where the chickens graze.” You stopped the car and put it in park, keeping the old thing running like you usually did during your quick morning chores. Sometimes the poor truck had a hard time starting back up, and you’d probably burst into tears if your newfound friend had to walk a half mile back to the house with you. 

“Do you guys have any problems with foxes?” She asked, keeping up with your fast pace as you unlatched the front of the fence for the both of you. 

Your nose wrinkled in disgust, and you were quick to throw your arms up exasperatedly. 

“Oh god, do we! I had to get someone out here to change out the fence just six months ago because one of those little fuckers had somehow managed to dig it’s way into their area. Killed seven of my poor girls.” You remembered how angry you were when you’d pulled up to the coops that morning. Burying seven dead hens wasn’t a pleasant experience for you, but it wasn’t something that was new. Still, you hated knowing that they’d suffered in their final moments. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Ellie looked around the area, finding it impossible not to notice how well kept everything was. The coops were freshly painted, the grass was gorgeous and plush- bright green under her feet. Truly, your farm was an oasis. She’d never seen anything quite like it before, and you'd barely even started the tour.

“Can I hold one?” She asked meekly, smiling up at you shyly as you turned to look at her. You didn’t exactly take her as the type of girl that would want to hold a chicken, but you were happy to oblige her. 

“One of my mamas just hatched a few chicks. Would you want to hold-” 

“Yes.” She quickly added, jogging off in the direction that you were pointing, eager to hold anything tiny and fluffy that you had to offer. 

You were shocked at the laugh that bubbled its way out of your chest. A genuine, good natured laugh that you found hard to contain as she began impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for you to catch up. 

“Didn’t take you for a chicken lover, city girl.” You teased, unlatching the door for her so that she could make her way inside. 

The hens squawked excitedly at your appearance, realizing they’d be able to eat their fill of grass, bugs, and dried corn. A few ran over, crowding at your ankles. Rows and rows of nests were lined up along the walls. In the back of the coop were a few small rectangular doors that you could open, which was what you used to harvest eggs. Your dad’s old coops didn’t have anything fancy like that, so you grew up having your hands pecked at. You used to run back home to your mother with blood bruises and angry, raised skin. 

“I love chicks.” Ellie said simply and the double meaning wasn’t lost on you. 

As if on cue one of the chickens began pecking at the woman’s ankles, earning a small hiss of surprise from her. You snorted, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t laugh at her expense. “I can’t say the feeling is mutual, apparently.” You added playfully, looking around for the yellow poof balls. 

“Old news.” She was smiling at you, and something in your chest began doing awful, uncomfortable flips. For a second you even felt a bit nauseous. 

Ellie wasn’t Abby, but there was something similar about the two of them. The short haired girl seemed capable and strong. There was a physical sort of confidence in the way that she walked that told you that she knew how to handle herself. You watched as she shoved her hands in her pockets, shoulders squared off, feet shoulder length apart- and it had your lips parting. 

Still, you remembered Joel talking about his daughter. . . saying that she was military. You couldn’t remember which branch she belonged to, but you could tell that she was well trained. You tried to imagine what Ellie would look like if she was put in a situation where she needed to protect herself, and you found a shiver running up your spine.

There was a coldness that had been in her eyes when the two of you had first met that had chilled you to the bone. You saw none of it when you looked into her eyes now, but. . . still. . . the thought terrified you. Had those capable hands ever killed anyone before? 

You felt horrible even thinking that, even going as far as to give your thigh a small slap in punishment as you bent down, knees digging into the wood shavings and hay. The chicks didn’t seem off put by your small scowl. They saw you and instantly thought “food”, which had them clumsily running in your direction. You hadn’t heard her walk up beside you, only felt the sleeve of her long sleeve shirt brush against your arm as she sat back on her haunches beside you. 

“It won’t scare them if I pick them up, will it?” She asked gently, slowly reaching a hand out so that she could brush it against their plush down feathers. They chirped contentedly, unaware of what “danger” even meant yet. You were guilty of babying your chickens, meaning none of them were scared of humans. They pecked at you when they were annoyed, but were never violent per say. 

“Not at all. They might seem a bit unhappy, but it’s only because they’re hungry.” 

You pressed your hand to your cheek as you watched the woman pick one of the chicks up, holding the tiny thing tightly against her chest so as to not drop it. There was something almost comical about seeing the woman look this gentle, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried not to hurt the tiny thing. It was adorable. Which was terrifying for you. 

You were once again reminded of your dream. . . and you didn’t think you were ready to let Abby go. Not even when Ellie looked up at you excitedly, using her free hand to gesture towards the small creature in disbelief. Almost like she was scared that even talking would frighten it. 

“So what do we do now?” Ellie asked, putting the chick down so that she could stand back up. You followed her lead, making your way back over towards the door. 

“We open up all the doors and let them walk around for the day. I usually come back and get them back in their coops by sundown.” You let her know, leaving the door wide open as you moved coop to coop. 

Ellie helped you, cutting down the time in half. The two of you were back in the truck in record time. You showed her the fields where you planted corn in the late summer to get ready for early fall. You pointed out the small flower garden you had taken upon yourself to cultivate, and then you pulled up to the green houses. Her jaw went slack as she took in all of the buildings. 

“You do all of this yourself?” She needed to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Sure, she was no farmer, but even someone like her knew just how much work this must be for you. 

She couldn’t imagine you doing this all day, every day all by yourself. It kinda made her chest ache a bit for you. So when you nodded she took it upon herself to climb out of the truck, eager to do something to lighten the burden for you. 

As the two of you approached what appeared to be the oldest of the greenhouses, she couldn’t help but realize that she’d been with you for about an hour. . . and she felt great. Better than great, she felt normal. She had been sent out here so that she could recover, and while she didn’t quite understand what that really and truly meant, being here with you felt right. Being around the animals felt therapeutic, and while Joel might have told you a little bit about her in passing, you didn’t know enough about Ellie to pass any sort of judgment or feel any sort of pity. 

Even so, Ellie wasn’t sure she’d be against telling you about what happened. Something told her that you would be understanding. You knew what it felt like to lose people, and she was sure that you had regrets somewhere along the line. Everyone does when it comes to losing loved ones. 

She hated that you had suffered enough to understand where she was coming from, but loved that she wasn’t alone for once. 

The two of you walked in silence, and there was a heaviness in your eyes that let her know that you were thinking about something serious and sad. Ellie wondered whether your father was on your mind this morning. . . or perhaps your girlfriend. It wasn’t her place to ask, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to. 

“Want to help me water them?” You finally asked, motioning towards the tables of plants. 

She nodded, but quickly turned to face you. She couldn’t count how many green houses you had on top of this one. 

“Do we water all of those plants too?” She felt stupid the second that she asked the question, but even more so when you began to giggle. 

Sounding stupid was worth it to hear the sound, so she sucked it up. 

“Those green houses are newer and have a built in sprinkler system. We just have to worry about this one, thankfully. We’d be here all afternoon if not.” You began to head in the direction of the hose so that you could turn it on, your stomach tightening with hunger. 

You knew the second you got back to the house and made breakfast that you’d be nauseous though. Bad days like this were always the same. You were hungry but you couldn’t eat. You wanted to distract yourself but nothing would work. You wanted to talk to someone but didn’t have any friends that you trusted enough to actually. . . onload on, and you were sick of your mom crying on your behalf. 

“So you’re staying with Joel now? For how long?” You decided to make small talk as you handed her the hose, walking along with her as she painstakingly paid attention to every sprout. 

She licked her lips before answering you, eyes flickering in a way that made you think that she might feel a bit nervous. 

“I was. . . sent here. It’s not like I don’t love being home, because I kinda do. It’s just not something that I exactly chose for myself.” That didn’t feel like the whole truth, but you supposed that she would tell you whenever she was ready. 

You played with the raw hem of your old t-shirt, suddenly anxious that you might have put her in a bad spot. Still, you found yourself wanting to know more about her. 

“Do you have an addiction problem?” You realized how inappropriate it was to be so blunt. Your mouth went bone dry with panic, and you were quick to grab her hand, shaking your head. “A-All I’m trying to say is that my uncle had a really bad drug problem for years. He’s been clean and sober since last Christmas and is doing great. I don’t judge, that’s all. I’m proud of you, if anything.” 

She gulped, looking down at your hand and noticing how close your body was to hers now. She fumbled to turn the hose off with one hand, trying to get her breathing under control. It was twice now that you were touching her like this, and she hated herself for wanting to wrap you back up in a hug so bad. She was also trying not to notice how plush and kissable your lips were.

You smelled great too, which made it hard for Ellie to think. 

“Yeah, I guess I have a bit of an addiction problem,” She mumbled, but shrugged her shoulders soon after, contradicting herself. “But that’s not really why I’m here.” 

Ellie would have to tell you eventually, she supposed. If the two of you were going to be as good of friends as Joel wanted, then she’d have to fess up eventually. It was better to get it out and in the open now rather than later. Plus. . . if she had some sort of a breakdown then maybe you’d be more understanding if you knew why it was happening. 

“My therapist tells me that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in the Marines and I had a really bad accident. So. . . it was hard for me to live alone.” Ellie stared down at a long-dead leaf on the ground and bent down to pick it up, gently playing with it’s crinkled edges. 

“Did you have panic attacks? I have those sometimes too.” You wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone, as stupid as it might sound. 

You wanted to relate to her without telling her that your girlfriend had also been a Marine. She was being vulnerable with you, and the last thing you wanted to do was make this moment about you by bringing up your deceased girlfriend.

“Yeah. . . Yeah, I have those a lot. Sometimes I lose track of time- disassociate. It’s scary for others to deal with, so my friends thought that it would be best if I were with Joel. There’s less triggers here than back in Chicago.” You could tell that she was still uncomfortable with the subject matter, but she was powering through. 

Ellie appreciated that there wasn’t a hint of judgment in your tone. You genuinely seemed curious. . . and talking about herself like this felt good. Validating, even. 

“What triggers you? I just want to make sure that I don’t overstep or accidentally do anything wrong-” 

“No, no. You’re fine. It’s more so loud noises and bright lights.” 

“So no gunshots?” 

“Guns aren’t too bad. . . it’s more so car crashes. Explosions, you know?” 

Your mouth went dry. You did know. It’s how Abby died, afterall. You hated that Ellie had gone through something similar. Your heart ached for her. 

“Is that how you got this. . . ?” You began to brush your fingers against the scar over her eye. You froze as she flinched, guilt bottoming out your stomach as you quickly yanked your hand away.

She reached out to take your elbow into her calloused hand before you could drop your palm back down at your side, and pressed your fingers against the skin herself. Her skin was still soft, but raised and jagged. You’d never felt a scar this deep before. Still, it was warm under your touch. Alive. 

The moment felt oddly intimate, and you kept your fingers there for a few seconds too long before dropping your hand back at your side. Ellie felt like she was going to explode. No one had ever wanted to touch her scar, let alone been allowed to. 

“Yeah, It is.” She cleared her throat, grabbing one of her arms in her hands nervously. She was starting to realize that she didn’t mind being seen by you. “I’m legally blind in the eye now, which has been pretty hard to get used to.” 

“So you can’t see at all out of it?” You questioned, beginning to walk back over towards the repotting station. You’d noticed a few sprouts that were getting a little too big for their pots, and the last thing you wanted was crowded roots. 

She followed after you like a lost puppy, hot on your trail. “I can see shapes and colors. Movement, and everything. But if you held up your hand and asked me “how many fingers am I holding up”, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” She’d practically had to relearn how to do everything again, as dramatic as that sounded. Losing the vision of one eye affected a lot more than one might think. 

“Oh, shit.” You remarked, nose wrinkling up in sympathy. You couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been on top of dealing with the mental anguish of the accident. 

“ ‘Oh, shit’ is right.” She agreed with a small smile, leaning her hip against the table as you began laying out the necessary supplies. She watched your hands as they moved expertly around the table, eyes locked on your fingers. “I used to be beautiful.” She joked absentmindedly, alluding to the scar that now marred her features. 

“You’re still beautiful.” You said, fully concentrated on the task at hand. 

You didn’t realize the weight that your words carried, nor Ellie’s reaction to them. She felt like a giddy teenager. She couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting with the buttons on her shirt. She was smitten.

You were the first person to treat her like an actual human being since the incident. This was the most alive she’d felt in almost a year. . . and she was talking about things. Not like she might talk to her therapist, it was different than that. She was talking to someone that wanted to get to know her, not just to diagnose her, but to understand her. It felt good. Really good. Sickeningly good. 

And you thought she was beautiful. 

“Do you want to help me repot these little guys?” You asked, motioning towards the tiny pots. 

She was scared of killing your seedlings but nodded anyway, desperate for your approval. Ellie watched as you demonstrated the entire thing for her, praying to god she wouldn’t forget a step. 

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, shaking out roots and gently tucking the plants into their new homes. It was calming- melodic, almost. The constant motion, the gentle noises of the wilderness all around you. Ellie could even feel herself getting good at it. Not as good as you, of course. . . but she wasn’t as bad as she thought she would be. 

You watched as she rolled her sleeves up and over her forearms, taking a second to appreciate her hands. Once again, you felt guilty for being so attracted to her. Strands of auburn hair had fallen out from behind her ear and hung in her pale face as she focused on her task. Her strong hands worked methodically. Her veins, her knuckles, her forearms and biceps- Ellie wasn’t just beautiful but gorgeous. 

‘Give me a sign, Abby. If I’m not reading too far into last night's dream. . . then just give me some sort of a sign.’ You thought to yourself, eyebrows furrowing as you packed more dirt around the seedling in your hand. You felt like you were being horrifically dramatic, but what else could you do?

You felt idiotic. Delusional, even.

Beside you Ellie continued to work, completely unaware of your building turmoil. Pot after pot, she was really getting the hang of it. Pack down a layer of dirt, shake out roots, pack dirt on top- repeat.

She  reached out for another one of the black plastic pots, sliding it over in front of her. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the rattling. She’d been so close to covering up whatever was at the bottom with dirt, but the sunlight caught whatever it was just right.

It sparkled. 

Ellie pinched the object between two dirt coated fingers, her eyebrows practically raising up to her hairline as she realized that it was a ring. A valuable looking one, at that. 

“Uh. . . is this yours?” Ellie asked, showing it to you. 

You blinked a few times at the ring, scared for a moment that you were hallucinating, because things like this only happened in movies. People asking for signs from the other side only for a ghostly apparition to pop up on screen.

Still, that was your promise ring in Ellie’s hand. 

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes filling up with tears before you could even stop them. You reached out with gentle fingers, taking it into your hand graciously. 

“Thank you.” 

And you weren’t sure if you were talking to Ellie. . . or Abby.

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[bigfatbimbo]

haha I’m baaack! (oh god this is so convoluted. I’m the one who requested subspace bill, etc.,!!!)

PLEASE elaborate on how bill would be if he went into subspace with More Powerful being!reader. I will owe you my life. I am deeply intrigued, like seriously I love to see ur takes on this stuff!

- 🎩 anon!

a/n — I am so horny right now but i’m also bleeding like a stuck pig with alcohol poisoning an i ain touching allat #oversharing

warnings — NSFW, dom!reader, subspace, Bill being Bill

summary — How subspace would go with Bill and a powerful reader

⃤ I think an incredibly powerful reader would affect Bill subbing off the bat, because he would feel the need to overcompensate.

⃤ He would be trying to dom you so hard, and the only thing is, you have to power to shut him down, and flip the switch.

⃤ This is incredibly new for him, because no one dares, and even if they could, they wouldn’t. 

⃤ And it’s been billions, more maybe, of years since he’s let someone take the reins on anything in his existence, and the fact that you can infuriates him.

⃤ Your relationship would be very toxic for that reason, and very hot.

⃤ He would be bratting out so hard, fighting everything you’re doing, because of that dare. Put him in his place, no one else will.

⃤ If you didn’t fill him with immense, incomparable, pleasure he knows anyone less mighty could not, he wouldn’t put up with it. 

⃤ But, truth be told, you’re very intimidating, and maybe he is curious about how it feels to be at someone’s mercy. 

⃤ So yes, use your powers to suspend him in the air, spread his legs with your mind and make him as vulnerable as possible, see if he stops bitching.

⃤ Pluck at strings in his brain to fill him with awful pain and glorious, mind-numbing satisfaction, until his complaints drip down his leg and turn into whimpering mutters of your name.

⃤ Make him forget who he is, and what he can do, it’s meaningless anyways in the presence of a god.

⃤ His wise, ancient mind will fog and cloud, as his whining turns from quippy criticism to the same few words over and over again.

⃤ Keep toying with him, use all of the abilities your powerful being grants you and show him what you can do. 

⃤ Watching Bill get genuinely needy for you, his hands grasping for you, if they aren’t already touching you.

⃤ “Please” isn’t in his vocabulary, but maybe a small muttery one appears.

⃤ This has a greater chance of happening with a powerful reader because it truly doesn’t give him many choices, other than to give in to your might.

⃤ And he’d never do this is he had no other choice, right? Of course, that doesn’t mean stop. Nothing does.

⃤ Not even when his eye snaps shut and he shrieks for you to go easy on him. 

⃤ He doesn’t want you to, not really, anyways.

MIND THE TYPOS!!!!!

[onlyswan]

i’m back to give you my iw!couple brain rot 🤲, please handle with care.

but !! imagine jungkook and oc doing that “see how long we can go without kissing” challenge !! how would fold first? they’re both so competitive but smitten it makes me conflicted. 😣😣

knowing them, jungkook would be twitching his eye just from the thought of being deprived kissies so would oc give in first to let him win? or would jungkook just take what’s his?? 🤔

imagine oc being a blushing mess from staring at jungkook’s face for too long 😵‍💫 THEYRE SO CUTE I CANT THINK STRAIGHT😭🫶

summary: in which jungkook is twenty-six years old and yet… you still give him butterflies.

idol!jk x reader, established relationship / word count: 0.7k

content/warnings: sexual tension, making out, it’s honestly just them fighting over who gets to be on top

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe hi anonie… sorry… i kindaaa got carried away… i had to write out the thing or else i would’ve gone insane just talking about it <3 (written with love and care) <3

—

“i don’t understand this challenge.”

“me neither,”

jungkook remains in a hypnotic-like trance, doe eyes trained to your lips stained with a lighter shade of mixed red and brown.

“we’re this close and we can’t kiss…? this is absurd.”

“do they actually do this in bed? with someone on top?” you chuckle as you coyly twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “i don’t think so?”

“i don’t know. i just wanted you to be comfortable.” he teasingly brushes his nose against yours, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended. “since, you know, we’ll be here a while.”

“oh wow. bringing me to bed, really? you’re that confident?”

he cockily raises an eyebrow. “hm, we both know you won’t be able to resist me here. you’re all over me all the time.”

you try not to roll your eyes in annoyance. and you also both know that you’re just as competitive, if not more.

“oh my god, you,” you mumble. the calm of your voice contrasts the aggressive push of your hand against your boyfriend’s naked chest. “and your stupid arrogance and your stupid need to flaunt your stupid hot body.”

in the blink of an eye, jungkook finds you stradding him, and himself, trapped underneath your body. he blinks in disbelief, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“this is dirty.”

you remove his glasses, moving it aside without care. “that’s just your mind.”

okay, perhaps bringing you to bed was a bad idea.

you lean down, slowly, close and then closer— it’s quite ridiculous that he’s nervous as if he doesn’t know what is bound to happen next: he’s thoroughly convinced that you’re going to kiss him.

once he feels your lips ghost over his, mere millimeters away, his eyelids flutter shut.

terrible idea. terrible.

the kiss, much to his disappointment, never happens.

he opens his eyes and your face is suddenly tucked in the space between his neck and shoulders, giggling and shaking and positively amused.

he turns away and squeezes his eyes shut. a painful admit of defeat against your infinite allure. “ah, i’m fucked.”

“we’ll get there later,” you lift your head, tilting his chin to face you.

you smile and scoot closer. so close that your bottom lips grazes his. he fails to remember the last time the two of you touched as chastely, as softly, but it felt like accidentally touching a live wire. he gets a funny feeling in his stomach. butterflies…? he’s twenty-six years old. he must be losing his mind.

“after you lose.”

“that’s not happening, baby.”

“yes, it will.”

“i won’t give up so easily.”

you give him an innocent look. “but i really think you will.”

you stare at each other for a little while, anticipating the other’s next move.

“fuck- yeah, okay-” he grits his teeth, taking advantage of his strength to finally flip back your positions. you’ve had your fun. “you’re right.”

“babe! ru-”

your surprised gasp is cut off by jungkook’s lips crashing on yours— curved into a smirk, you can feel it. your whines are muffled and swallowed by him, wrists caught in his hands and over your head because you were hitting his shoulder and he just wanted to kiss his baby properly.

“you lost,” you remark quietly when he draws back, only inches away, to scatter kisses along your face and down to your neck.

it tickles, you squirm in pleasure when he reaches near your collarbone, but your hands are still tied.

you were supposed to have him underneath you as a hot and flustered mess, not the other way around. damn it.

“really?” he feigns interest, lips finding their way back to yours. “doesn’t feel like it.”

[mochie85]

Never Enough

One-Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki tests your limits as he tries one last time to make you scream. Word Count: 1.9K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Explicit. Smut. It's mostly filth with a fluff ending. Pleasure Dom! Loki, bondage, rough oral, use of toys, edging. P in V. Aftercare.

The air was hot and humid from hours of heavy panting. The once cool satin sheets were sweltering against your skin. They no longer held the cold comforts to ease the fire crawling through you.

Loki sat on the settee, facing you as you writhed on his bed. He sat with his legs crossed, an ankle above his other knee. One hand settled on the back of the chaise. The other nursed a hundred-year-old scotch. You could hear the ice-sphere clink with the glass whenever he held it up to his lips for a sip. He looked like an emperor watching a match, a favorite pastime of entertainment, as you battled with your wits to survive his night of debauchery.  

How many climaxes has it been? Three? Five? You lost count after Loki decided to suspend your arms above you and tie them to the posts of his bed.

“You look so lovely like this. Do you think you can give me one more, pet?” he growled as he turned the vibrator up using the remote control he had.

With each orgasm, your sensitivity rose. But so did the intensity of his toy. A sweet torture that you agreed to. One that you are now questioning. “I- I don’t…unnhh…” you moaned, arching your back and pulling on the restraints.

“Oh, but I love to see you unravel. Every. Time. You sing so beautifully for me.” Loki said taking another sip of his scotch. His eyes roamed your body. You could feel his stare caressing every inch of your skin. But it wasn’t enough.

“I…I need you, please,” you begged. You needed him to touch you. You needed his firm grip on your body to keep you tethered to this world. Otherwise, you would lose yourself in the haze of lust he was designing. Soft prayers escaped your lips to the god you hoped would hear them. You needed to feel something. Anything other than the soaked sheets beneath you and the unrelenting vibration of his device in between you.

Loki waved his hands and the bindings around your wrist disappeared. The slight rope burn stinging on your wrists. The vibration in between your legs stopped and soon you felt its absence as you pressed your legs together for release.

“I just don’t know what to do with you, bunny,” he admonished you. He stood up slowly, making his way over to the edge of the bed. He placed his hands inside his pockets as the light from the lone lamp behind him outlined his silhouette in rich gold. His hair fell across his face. His tongue roamed over his teeth and lips as he appraised your body. As if you were a morsel of decadence ready to be devoured.

Your eyes raked over him. From his hungry stare to his broad shoulders, down to the growing bulge tightening his pants. You were glad to know that you had affected him somehow.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling sheepish at the unknown slight you seemed to have caused. You arched your back off the bed, moaning, tempting him for a closer look. Touch me please, you thought as you conveyed your cravings in silence.

“Here I am giving you exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you asked for,” he cooed, crawling over your spent body on the bed. “And yet you still ask for more…you greedy girl.” He caged your head in between his arms. Your eyes followed the veins that flowed from his wrists up to where they hid underneath his rolled sleeves. But he did not stop crawling over you till your head was nestled in between his thighs.

You felt the heat and warmth in between his legs. Your hands involuntarily ran over his steel thighs, feeling the rough texture of his dark jeans. The quick intake of his breath betrayed the cool demeanor he was trying to portray. His hooded eyes and his sharp jaw looked down at you from up above, savoring the view of you underneath and in between him.

“You little minx. Did I say you can touch me?” His thighs closed in on your head below. You placed your hands to your side as you donned your best cherubic look for him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologized biting your lip. Loki pinched his thumb onto your chin and pulled your lip from your bite. He ran his thumb gently over your swollen lips as he unbuttoned his jeans. Your eyes watched his fingers pull his zipper down and your mouth went slack as he stroked himself in front of you. Drool escaped the side of your mouth as your tongue darted forward trying to catch the precum beading off his tip.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Loki smiled. He sat on his knees, dominating over your wrecked body, not wanting to crush you underneath his godly thighs. You wouldn’t mind though.  

“You are so desperate. So hungry and greedy for more. Hence, I’m going to use that eager little mouth of yours…” Loki tilted his head to the side. The view of his neck straining to keep control, the tightness in his jaw, made you ball your fist and clench your thighs.

“My greedy little girl.” His voice was low and smooth like the scotch he was drinking. It resonated deep within you, holding you as a captive listener. “I always take care of you. Don’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” you moaned impatiently.

“I spoil you too much. But don’t worry, darling. I’ll feed your greed- inch by inch. You’re going to take me and you’re going to show me how much you want me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You said meekly, grabbing the sides of the sheets.

“Open.” He commanded and you obliged. He sank himself inside your hot mouth. Slowly at first, savoring the heat and tightness of your lips around him. You twirled your tongue around the best you could given his girth and the restrictions of your head.

“That’s my good little whore,” he praised. His words made you suck harder. It made you want to please him even more. Loki started to dive deeper and deeper towards the back of your throat. The gasping, choking sounds you made only spurred him to go faster.

You squeezed your legs together and held on to the bed beneath you. You were at the mercy of the god who could easily crush you- and it thrilled you. You grabbed a hold of the back of his hips and pushed him further into your throat. Loki whimpered your name and you held onto him tighter, your nails leaving red welts upon his silken skin. Your mouth pulled on his cock harder and he couldn’t stop moaning.

He grabbed the headboard, leaning down for support. His knees had gone weak and his whole body shook with desire. Loki continued to thrust down onto your face, pinning you in between his sharp hips and the firm mattress below. He balled his fists and screamed out your name.

Loki couldn’t take it any longer. His hips thrusted into your tight wet lips. With each pull, with each drag, he would lose a small piece of his sanity- almost bringing him to the brink of his powerful release.

“Stop,” he panted. “Stop!” he commanded himself. He willed himself to stay still. His breath was heavy. His lungs burned. His thick cock was still inside your mouth as he looked down at you.

You had tears running down your red eyes. Sweat plastered tendrils of your hair onto your slick skin. Loki pulled out cautiously and rested his heavy cock on your neck. You took a gasp of air which stung your throat. “You look ruined,” he smiled grabbing your chin and shaking your head left and right.

Loki began crawling backward, dragging his length down your deprived body. Your saliva coating his dick smeared a trail in between your heaving breast and past your navel.

“Still wet, bunny?” He asked as he swiped his fingers in between your pussy. He maneuvered himself in between your legs “I’m going to have fun ruining the rest of your body too.”

“Loki, please…” you continued to beg.

“Awe don’t worry, darling. I know…shh…I know…” he tutted gently. He placed his tip inside your wet folds, stretching you further than his toy did earlier. “Beautiful…” he grunted as he sunk deeper inside of you. Loki watched as you moaned and arched your back. Your beautiful face contorted into a sinful orgasm.

He was close as well. He was edging himself to get there but waiting for you to come again. You felt his thick cock penetrate you completely. “I…don’t know if I can…” you whined in pleasure. You were drained. You didn’t know if you had it in you to give your love another climax.

“Yes, you can. I know you can, pet,” he encouraged. He started drilling faster. Trying to keep his climax on the verge of release. He leaned over you again, trapping your head in between his arms. “I worked this pussy too well. Your next orgasm is mine. Do you understand me?” he grabbed your face to look straight at him. He pushed himself deep into you, “mineee…” he growled onto your quivering lips.

You squeezed around him. Pushing him further and deeper into the haze of bliss. “B-bunny…give it to…fuck…give it to me…” You wrapped your arms around him. Scratches and claw marks littered his back. He reciprocated your passion with bruises from his fingertips and lips.  

You looked down to where you both collided and screamed your release. “…Loki…” The sight of his godly cock entering your tight folds… repeatedly… rhythmically… made you give in to his claim. Your body exploded. You felt weightless and heavy at the same time as you yelled his name with the last breath in your lungs.

Loki soon followed. You could feel his thighs shaking in between your legs. He cried your name in a litany, along with Asgardian phrases and degrading curses.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeated as he continued thrusting inside your slick walls eventually slowing down.  His teeth grazed against your cheek, whispering sordid words and promises you couldn’t understand.

Panting and drained, Loki dismounted and laid next to you in bed. He watched you breathe deeply and lose yourself in post-coital ecstasy. “Love,” he called out to you.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move.

“Love, can you hear me?” he asked amused. You could only nod your head as you closed your eyes and let weariness take you. You felt a warm towel caress your face and wipe the tears from your eyes. He continued in between your legs massaging life back into your muscles. With a snap of his fingers, you felt the sheets beneath you change into cool Egyptian cotton.

“I think I may have driven you too hard tonight, bunny,” he said with chagrin. You shook your head to try and protest, catching his lips in the process.

“More,” you grumbled. “Never enough…” you nuzzled into his neck, letting his steady heartbeat guide you into slumber.

“My greedy girl. How blessed I am to have an insatiable woman,” he laughed.

“I’ll always want you,” you whispered. Loki smiled at your confession as he pulled you closer and wrapped both of you in a plush duvet.

“Rest then, my love. And when you wake, we can talk about more.”

One-Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

[holybibly]

Personally, I think we don't talk about Professor Choi San enough, don't you?

I don't like Mondays, but I like San, and this is just what I need to start the week sinfully.

"You've been behaving very badly lately, Y/N." The voice of your literature professor sounds light-hearted, as if he's talking to you about a fun game rather than an exam that you already failed three times. Besides, you have committed a number of other offences that could have earned you a reprimand, and Professor Choi seems to take every opportunity to remind you. "Skipping classes, constantly getting bad grades, and a generally destructive attitude..." He lists, turning to the blackboard to erase today's topic: "Sins and desires in Dante's Inferno." It was almost impossible not to look at his firm, toned ass, wrapped tightly in the fabric of his trousers. He reached for a particularly large inscription on the board. "For lack of a better term." He says this, turning to meet you, and the expression on his face tells you he notices where you're looking.

You lower your head in embarrassment, avoid making eye contact with him, and pull your skirt down a little.

"You and I both know that we've tried just about everything we could to correct your inappropriate behaviour." Professor Choi says this as you continue to look down in guilt as he walks over to you and slightly loosens the tight knot of his tie around his long, freckled neck. There was something about the way he was able to make such simple things seem so incredibly sexy, with no subtext at all, that made your stomach tingle. You'd be lying if you said you couldn't picture him tightening the tie around you and putting you on a leash as you rode his cock. "You were detained, suspended, counseled..." He stops in front of you, and you can smell his scent—something heavy and dark, like amber and whisky—or sex. God, you thought you couldn't be more despairing, but apparently Choi San was designed to destroy your sanity. "There is only one way that I can think of to solve this problem." He says. Professor Choi brings his hand to your chin, his fingers surprisingly cold, but the metal of his ring is hot on your skin as he gently raises your head to meet his feline eyes.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you stare into the handsome face of the man. If you didn't know better, you'd say Professor Choi's face was hand-carved by the finest Renaissance sculptors, because it's hard to believe that those sharp, perfect lines were created by something as trivial as genetics. He raises a questioning eyebrow and watches your reaction like a predator waiting for you to fall into his trap. Without realising it, you give him what he wants, nodding obediently to his words, your lips parting slightly.

"You have behaved very badly, and to correct this you must obediently follow what I tell you. Do you understand me, or not?" This could be your only chance to back out, but instead you look up at him through the lace of fluffy eyelashes with wide, innocent eyes.

"I do, Professor Choi."

His eyes grow darker and more predatory than they were before.

"I'd like you to bend down over my desk. Now." Professor Choi commands, and you obey immediately, throwing your bag on the floor and resting your forearms on his desk, facing the perfectly clean board. You can feel the fabric of your pleated skirt lift a little and slide higher up your thighs, exposing the delicate ruffled panties made of silk.

You hear Professor Choi move in behind you and feel his sinewy hands sliding down your sides in a teasing way to your hips before he pushes one hand down your lower back until your chest is pressed up against his desk. You support yourself with your arms, your plump tits falling out of the cups of your bra, and your hard, swollen nipples rubbing against the lace of the bra. You hear the rustle of fabric, and when you lift your head to look, San slaps your thigh so hard that you jerk at the impact, and your skin is instantly red.

"You better not move." He says it with a growl and puts his hand in front of your face. "Open your mouth for me." The tie that he has rolled up ends up in your mouth as soon as you open your lips—an effective gag. It's elegant, just like Professor Choi himself.

"Right now there are many other students here, obedient students who listen and respect their professors, unlike you, little whore." San whispers in your ear as he presses his chest against your back, his voice dropping several octaves. "We don't want anyone else to know what a whore you really are to me, do we?" His voice is becoming hoarse and sultry, and goosebumps creep across your skin.

A few moments pass in silence as you become more and more lost in the forbidden sensations of Professor Choi's hands as they slowly explore your body. Your eyes open as you feel San's warm breath on your thighs, his hands pulling down your panties, and the silk moving teasingly slowly against your overheated skin. A small stream of sticky liquid drips from your pussy as soon as your underwear is removed, and you hear San hiss at the sight of it.

"Look, you're dripping for me. Do you always feel like this during my classes?" San moans as he blows lightly on your wet folds, and the sensation makes your knees weaken. "Shhh, honey, I'll take care of that little cunt." Suddenly, the tip of his tongue plunges in and slides between your folds, drawing a strip from your little hole to your throbbing clitor. You gasp for air, but the sound is muffled by the gag. Your legs tremble, and Professor Choi slaps your thigh once more, this time stinging you even more on the skin.

"You will learn that lesson next time, but for now, you are going to take everything that I am giving you." You hear more of the rustling, and then, without warning, his cock is thrust into your tight, humid cunt. Your high-pitched moans are muffled by the gag, but San gives a contented, low purr as he pushes deeper and deeper into you until he's completely inside you. You can feel the fabric of his perfectly pressed shirt brushing against your naked skin as his balls slap against your buttocks.

He doesn't hesitate for a second before he pulls his cock out of you completely and immediately plunges back in. He puts his strong hands on your hips to pull you closer to him, your hands desperately gripping the edge of the table to steady yourself. The drawers of his desk rattle every time his dick slams into your pussy and you realise that, despite the gag in your mouth, anyone passing by at that moment would have no doubt as to what was going on inside the room. 

The sensation you are feeling now is so strong, almost overwhelming—the gag restricting your breathing and making your consciousness seem distant and hazy.

Blackened bruises were left on the tender flesh from Professor Choi's firm grip on your soft thighs. The almost painful friction of your breasts against the table and the lace of your bra made you whimper quietly from the rough stimulation, and of course San's cock—thick, warm, and veined—buried itself right into you, striking all the right places with each thrust. 

It was enough to make your toes curl up and your pussy squirt out of control. Your juices were sticky and glistening, sloshing around San's cock with every thrust he gave you. A wet, squelching sound filled the entire space of his office. It mixed with his hoarse moans and your pitiful whimpering, muffled by the thick fabric of his tie stuffed into your mouth.

"You won't come until I say so, you little bitch." San hisses, slapping both your buttocks, but not stopping his thrusting, continuing his cock deep and hard into your plump cunt. You whimper, but of course, not a sound comes out of you. Professor Choi leans over you and pulls his tie out of your mouth. "Say my name, pretty." You gasp for breath, the air burning your lungs, but you obediently follow his command.

"Professor Choi!" You squeal as his hand lands on the reddened skin of your ass once more.

"Say my name, Y/N." He growls, and the meaning of his command finally dawns on your mind, clouded as it is by lust.

"San!" As San pulls your shirt off your shoulders, along with your bra straps, and kisses your skin fiercely, the painful sound of pleasure turns into a prolonged moan.

"That's right, beautiful. Be obedient to me." He begins to fuck you more intensely, the thick head of his cock pressing against your cervix with each hard thrust, and before you can make another high-pitched squeal, San pushes two long fingers into your mouth.

You can feel the drool running down your chin, and you can imagine how dirty you must look right now.

"Fuck, look at you, darling." San moans softly, as if she can read your mind. "You're such a good girl, a perfect student." My little obedient slut." You moan around his fingers, and he reminds you that you can't come without his permission, but you can hardly stand it any longer. There's already so much tension in your stomach, and you know you'll be coming on his thick, long cock any minute.

He lifts his other hand from your hip and presses down on your throat, further interrupting your breathing as he drives you mercilessly into the table and fucks you with all his might. You have no chance to hold on.

"Fuck!" You moan, your juices squirting out with every thrust of his cock, and you squirt around him, coming in profusion with his name on your lips. "San, oh my God!"

He pulls out of you, and you feel your cum dripping down your thighs as you struggle to breathe. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence pass before Professor Choi chuckles darkly. He caresses the sore skin on your bottom.

"I thought I told you not to cum, my little one. I'm afraid it's time for your punishment now." When he speaks, his voice is dangerously calm, full of sugary menace, and yet your hole tightens at what he says. "On your knees, my love. I'm going to fuck your pretty little slutty mouth." You moan and almost fall to your trembling knees as you hurry to do what he asks you to do.

You look at Professor Choi for the first time since he asked you to bend over his desk. Apart from the trousers and boxers that have been pulled down around his hips to expose his thick, throbbing cock that is now right in front of your face, he still looks good—almost damn perfect.

"Fuck, are you going to smear that pretty pink lip gloss all over my dick, darling?" San strokes your hair like you are a kitten. He looks amazing—hair slightly damp with sweat, eyes dark and lustful, biting his plump lower lip as he shoves his thick cock into your mouth until the head hits the back of your throat. You gag on him, instinctive tears leaking from your eyes as he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing you to swallow more and more of his cock as he goes deeper and deeper with each thrust, sloppily fucking your mouth. Your sticky lip gloss leaves a pink glow on his dick and is probably smeared all over your face, and you can see why this is such a turn-on for San.

Your eyes close as you concentrate on the relaxation of your throat and the rubbing of your tongue along the underside of his heavy cock.

"That's right, such an obedient girl." He moans, and you can feel San's cock pulsing in your mouth; he's about to come. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling at it as you hear his sharp breathing through his nose. You whimper around his cock, the extra stimulation making him growl with pleasure.

"You're going to swallow every drop of my sperm. Every damn bit of it. Just like the pretty little bitch that you are." San gasps to breathe. You suck in your cheeks, suck hard on the head of his cock, and he curses fiercely. He comes out all the way and cums into your open, waiting mouth, spraying thick cum all over your tongue and some on your cheeks until his orgasm subsides. You swallow obediently, and the warm, bittersweet cum rolls down the back of your bruised throat.

You look up at him through your lashes and stick out your tongue to show him what a good girl you have been for him, swallowing every last bit of it.

San leans over, grabs you by the chin, and pulls you into a dirty, wet kiss. You can't even imagine leaving his office looking like that; you look like a total mess. As soon as Professor Choi lets you go, he brushes the sweaty hair from his forehead, runs his hand through it, and hides his dick in the trousers.

"I hope you've learned how to behave yourself, right?"

"Yes, Professor Choi."

"All right, you can go now." You nod in what you hope is a convincing manner and turn to pick up your knickers from the floor.

He quickly picks them up for you and puts them in one of the drawers on his desk.

"You'll have to come back for another lesson, love, if you want them back.".

"I understand, Professor Choi." You mutter, pulling your skirt down over your hips to cover everything.

You walk out of his office, not missing the way San is smiling at you, admiring the sight of your swaying hips, and you close the door to his office behind you.

You don't have any idea how you will come into his class next Monday.

[naughtyjjk]

being seduced by stripper gojo

characters: gojo x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, stripper, strip club, pole dancing, revealing outfits, lap dance, strip tease, dirty talk, dry humping

you have no idea what compelled you to come here, but there’s no denying that you’ve been stressed lately, and you need to let loose, at least for one night. the atmosphere is nice—all cool toned colours and dim lighting and music loud enough to drown out any thoughts of doubt you might have about spending the late evening hours at a strip club of all places. the most highly rated strip club, in fact, with the hottest men around. there’s bound to be someone who’s your type. or so you’ve been told.

these places are designed to be inviting, you know. but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to their tactics, enticing viewers into a world of sin. everywhere you look, there are attractive bodies flaunting around the room, guys with flirty smiles and skin showing and downright scandalous outfits, all giving you more attention than you’d normally get anywhere else.

admittedly, you’re already kind of turned on just from being in the midst of all this. maybe that makes you an easy target. maybe you don’t care. walking around, you let yourself enjoy everything there is to offer, and it doesn’t take much to learn that you’ve arrived just in time for something exciting that’s about to happen.

tonight, there seems to be only one topic of conversation: gojo satoru, one of the most highly requested dancers, is going to make an appearance. from what you’ve gathered so far, he’s supposedly very good at his job, and many people have been anticipating his show this whole week. and it’s scheduled to start in only a few minutes.

finding a seat for yourself, you join the crowd in waiting for the upcoming performance. because you’re curious now. all of the workers here have been extremely good-looking and know how to flirt with the audience, using their bodies to their advantage. what is it that sets satoru apart from the rest?

thankfully, you don’t have to wait long because the person who steps onto the stage next can only be satoru, given the cheers that immediately erupt into the air as soon as he walks into view. seeing him now, you can understand right away why he has such a well-known reputation among the regular patrons here.

satoru enters the stage wearing very little, which seems to be the norm among the dancers. there’s a black choker around his neck. his entire upper body is fully exposed, save for the two thick bands of suspenders that run down his chest, conveniently covering his nipples. lower, a pair of tight, tight underwear hangs off his hips, barely functioning to hide anything.

beside you, you hear people saying, holy fuck, he’s hot, and yeah. you wholeheartedly agree. if you’re being honest, satoru looks like someone who has stepped right out of your personal wet dream, someone you’re definitely going to dream about again in the future.

the music for his routine starts, a filthy beat that echoes deep in your bones. satoru begins to move, swaying his hips to the rhythm as he walks toward the audience, touching himself all over. feeling himself slowly, sensually. his hands run down his neck, fingers sprayed out as they drift down to his chest and stomach before finally stopping at his crotch.

he’s confident, smile so fucking cocky but undeniably hot at the same time. he knows he’s good. he’s got the audience right where he wants them as soon as he stepped out. there are dozens of people watching, but it feels like he’s looking straight at you when he swipes his tongue across his lips, biting down on the bottom lip suggestively.

and—oh. oh god. you squeeze your legs together, arousal shooting straight to your pussy. it’s getting increasingly uncomfortable to sit there, heat rushing south, as you anticipate what’s coming next.

but you can’t look away, either. satoru is now spreading his legs farther apart, thrusting his hips into nothing, but it’s somehow absolutely mesmerizing. he works his body with experience, in smooth rolls that show off all his muscles as they flex and contract. one hand runs through his hair while he looks out at the crowd with darkened eyes, and the other cups between his legs, teasing both himself and the viewers.

it riles up the audience, riles you up, because when satoru finally removes that hand, it becomes obvious that he’s at least half hard.

he walks over to the pole in the middle of the stage and hooks a leg around it, pressing his erection against the metal to grind against it a few times, seemingly getting himself off. his eyes are hooded, lips parted. it’s a display of rehearsed seduction and it fucking works because you’re fully captivated, eyes fixated solely on him.

eventually, satoru spins and turns around so that his back is against the pole. he sinks down in one fluid movement, knees spreading wide, leaning forward so that his back is arched as he raises his ass higher. every action he makes draws attention, the arousal tangible and thick in the air. when he shakes his hips, you can’t help but feel wetness gushing out of your pussy, wishing you were there in the place of the pole. wishing you could feel those sinful, gyrating hips touching you instead.

as the dance continues, you don’t know how much time passes. it could be only a few minutes or hours that you sit there, and all you’re capable of doing in the moment is follow satoru’s every movement, engraining the scene in front of you into your mind forever.

turning back around, satoru winks in your direction—you can’t be sure if it’s at you or someone beside you—but your body stills anyway, pussy aching with desire. you watch as satoru makes one final spin around the pole, slow enough to show off all angles of himself, before he drops to the ground again, hips thrusting out.

the routine ends with satoru basking in the cheers of the audience and you breathing heavily in your seat, so fucking turned on.

.

normally, this is when you would leave, but you still haven’t recovered from that performance, so you sit there a while longer. hoping that you’ll come back to your senses soon.

the music changes and other dancers fill the stage, but you’re not paying attention to any of that anymore. you gaze follows satoru as he disappears behind the left wing and reappears descending down the steps that lead to the main floor, where a group of his fans wait to greet him. they chat for a while and then satoru turns his head and somehow, through the crowd of people between the two of you, locks eyes directly with you.

satoru says a farewell to the group, something that has them squealing, and makes his way across the room, walking with purpose in your direction. not a second later, you find him right in front of you, the sudden proximity enough to make your whole body heat up.

glancing down at you, satoru says, “hey there, pretty girl.”

“um,” you reply intelligently. you blink and take a look around to make sure that he’s actually talking to you. “hi.”

running a hand down his chest, satoru sways his body lightly to the music and somehow manages to make it look natural. “did you enjoy the show?”

you nod, mouth suddenly dry. you’re still processing the fact that satoru is here, so close, talking to you. flirting and clearly interested in you, for whatever reason. it’s unexpected, but you’re definitely not complaining. “yeah, it was—good. you’re good.”

“just good?”

“no, i mean—” you pause, then blurt out, “you’re hot.”

a slow smile stretches across satoru’s face at that, and he takes a step forward, inviting himself onto your lap. his hips are lifted just enough that he’s not actually in contact, body making slow, lazy rolls. teasing. “what’s your name?”

you tell him, stammering, pulse beating a mile per minute. he’s so fucking close to you. he’s so sexy that you can hardly form a coherent sentence. choking back a moan, your hands grip the edge of your seat to refrain from doing something that you’ll regret later.

a series of increasingly filthy thoughts run through your head and in that moment, all you can think about is how you want to rip off satoru’s clothes, what he would look like fully naked. how it would feel to hold his cock, the weight of it in your hands. his cock sliding and grinding against your pussy—

fuck. you have to turn away and remind yourself to chill the hell out. to not fall so easily for the charms of the dancer whose job is to make you get worked up like this. but, well, there’s no denying that satoru is good at everything he does. and he’s hot, like you said. he looks even better up close than he did on stage. so when you feel a warm hand on your jaw, guiding your face back to the front, how could you ever resist?

“baby,” satoru says, lowering himself so that he’s properly seated on your lap now. in this position, you can feel his hard-on against your pussy, the bulge of his pants pressed right between your legs. you swallow thickly. “i’m going to get jealous if you keep turning away. look at me.”

your breath catches in your throat. it’s like satoru has you locked in a trance, the rest of the world disappearing around you because nothing else matters. you have nowhere left to look but at him, at the way sweat rolls down his abs, strong thighs caged around your legs.

“yeah, that’s it.” satoru moves his hips just slightly, but it’s enough to make you really feel him against your own body. jesus christ. “focus on me and how good i can make you feel.”

it’s not fully grinding, because he’s still teasing you more than anything, but the only thing separating the two of you is your own pants and the very thin fabric that satoru is wearing. if it weren’t for those, you would actually be fucking. the mere thought of it has you letting out an involuntary moan.

at the sound, satoru perks up and smirks, eyes darkening. he works his hips harder, applying more pressure, and your brain effectively short circuits. “mm, you’re wet, aren’t you? i bet your panties are soaked for me. so fucking turned on already. such a good girl.”

oh, you know. you don’t need satoru to tell you how far gone you are now, how your pussy is aching and throbbing within the confines of your pants. you’re almost embarrassed by the growing feeling of lust coursing through you, the want and desire you feel toward him. this is quite possibly the horniest you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re losing all sense of rationality embarrassingly fast.

“y-you—” you start before you have to stop because satoru lines up his cock directly with your pussy and ruts against you filthily, calculated. it makes you gasp, bucking up on instinct when he retreats. and fuck, you’re panting now, having been given a taste of the kind of pleasure satoru can provide you, and it only makes you want more.

“go on,” he encourages, far too amused. “what were you saying?”

eventually, with visible effort, you manage to choke out, “you’re—ah—you’re hard, too.”

“i am. all because of you, baby,” satoru says suggestively and impossibly inviting. his mouth moves to your ear to whisper, “how about we go somewhere quieter? just the two of us?”

a shudder runs down your spine, arousal swirling in the pit of your stomach. and you can tell exactly what he’s implying, knows that you should probably be a bit more cautious in these situations, but it’s hard to think logically when someone like satoru is this close to you. giving you an offer that you could never turn down. you don’t even realize that you’re nodding rather eagerly until you’re being pulled up from your seat, that enticing grin back on satoru’s face as he leads you away from the main stage.

.

the two of you go into a private room that’s small but well-furnished. the lighting is dim and seems to cast a spotlight on the sofa in the center of the room. music is still present here, but not as loud. unlike the main stage, you have no problem hearing satoru when he gives his next instructions.

“make yourself comfortable,” he tells you, and you go over to sit on the couch.

you can’t believe this is happening. there’s arousal thrumming inside you, veins running hot with the anticipation of what’s to come.

in front of you, satoru unclips his suspenders and tosses them aside. they didn’t hide much to begin with, but even still, you take the opportunity to drink in the sight of his fully naked chest. and god, does he have a nice body—strong arms, well-toned abs, hardened nipples. seriously the whole package in one insanely attractive person.

satoru walks closer toward you and doesn’t waste any time, sinking down to his knees in front of the couch. he pushes your legs apart and runs his hands up your trembling thighs.

“need some help with this?” he nods between your legs, the hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. a hand passes over your clothed pussy, lightly grazing against it, and the groan that escapes you is awful.

“please,” you breathe out. you hate that you sound so wrecked already.

it makes satoru grin as he leans forward, rising higher. “don’t worry, i’ll make you feel good. but there’s just one little rule that you have to keep in mind…” he trails off, pausing for suspense. his hands slip under your shirt, traveling up to squeeze your breasts outside your bra. at the same time, he whispers into your ear, “no touching.”

you gasp, arching forward. your mind goes blank for a second. fingers twitching, you have to physically stop yourself from reaching out, already coming close to breaking the only rule you’ve been given. arousal rushes through you at once, and you wonder, not for the first time, how it’s possible for satoru to know exactly what turns you on.

“fuck, s-satoru—”

“mm,” he hums, satisfied. “you look good like that. so fucking desperate for me.”

then he gets up, throws one leg on either side of you, effectively straddling you, and sits on your lap. he rocks his hips gently back and forth a few times before wrapping his arms around your neck. satoru is looking at you with hooded eyes, with pure lust and desire, and the intensity of his stare makes you feel wanted like you never have before.

jesus christ, you curse mentally. this is seduction perfected to an artform. there’s a beautiful, naked man giving you a lap dance and this has only just started but you’re already dripping in your pants.

you’re not prepared for when satoru brings your faces close, just mere centimeters apart. it knocks the breath out of you, heart beating wildly in your chest. satoru’s mouth is parted, your lips brushing, almost kissing but not quite. all it would take is for you to lift your head, chasing after him, giving in to the ever-growing desire to taste him. but his words from earlier echo as a warning in your mind: no touching.

“did you think you could break me that easily?” you ask, feigning composure. except it’s obvious just how affected you are by everything. you’re sure that satoru can feel your pussy throbbing helplessly in your pants now that you’re this close to each other.

“yes,” satoru says, confident. and you don’t even care that you’re being played so easily; your traitorous mind only thinks of pressing those smirking lips against your own. “i think i could. looks like i almost got you there, anyway.”

he ghosts his lips down your neck, almost kissing, almost tender, but never actually making contact. his warm breath follows, trailing down to your collarbones. and you want him, you want him so badly. you’ve never wanted a man more than you want satoru now, but you’re not allowed to do anything. it’s so fucking cruel.

in your seat, you shudder. your body reacts to his every action, and you’re sure that it’s only encouraging him. “f-fuck, no fair.”

“that’s right, baby,” satoru murmurs. “i could make you forget everything but me… where you are, how to think, the one rule you’re supposed to follow…”

swallowing hard, you have to grip your hands on the couch, knuckles turning white, to stop yourself from reaching out. you know that all of this will be over if you touch him, but it’s so, so tempting.

the worst part is that the rule doesn’t apply both ways. you’re not allowed to touch, but satoru can. and he takes full advantage of it, hands roaming all over like he’s starved for contact, under your shirt and up to your chest, snaking behind to unclip your bra. you gasp when you feel his bare hand groping your breasts, holding the weight of them in his palms, massaging them, playing with your nipples. he flicks at the sensitive nubs. his thumbs circle around them, pinching them with just the right amount of pressure between two fingers.

he does this until he draws out a low, guttural moan from you. the cocky grin is back on his face, and you hate that you’re playing right into his hands, but you can’t help it. he’s fucking good at what he does.

soon, he abandons your breasts, sliding his hands back down your sides to trace smooth circles on your inner thighs. he grazes over your pussy countless times but never applies any pressure, never fully gives you what you want. it’s not enough, and you can’t stop yourself from bucking your hips up to meet him.

and then—fuck, you think you’re going to lose your mind. satoru unzips your pants and pushes it down just far enough for the dampness of your panties to be exposed. you can’t even deny it: you’re so wet, so turned on. he runs a single finger over your panties, feeling your arousal, and you moan brokenly, thinking about having those long fingers inside you.

throughout all this, you wonder how you must look, so desperate and struggling to hold yourself back. you’re panting, chest heaving, entire body burning on fire. when satoru pulls away to get a better look at you, a charge of tension passes between you, so thick it’s almost suffocating.

“naughty girl,” he murmurs, still rubbing you over your panties. never giving you a chance to breathe. “you must be aching for it.”

you moan again and feel yourself getting even wetter, soaking the material further. “m-more, satoru, please—”

you’re not even sure what it is that you’re asking for, but satoru only grins before removing himself from your lap. a whimper escapes you and you almost beg him to stay, until you realize what it is that he’s doing.

a private show, just like the one he gave on stage earlier, but much more intimate and filthy. satoru doesn’t hold anything back, moving to the beat echoing in the background, performing body rolls one after another. and now that he’s standing in front of you, showing off his body, it’s obvious that he’s fully hard. there’s an impressive bulge between his legs, making his already tight underwear seem even tighter. the material stretches to accommodate his length, to the point where it looks like it could break at any moment.

your eyes follow his every move, every shift of his muscles, holding your breath and physically unable to look away. because satoru is thrusting his hips like he’s—like he’s actually fucking someone right then and there, letting out increasingly suggestive sounds, grunts and moans that will haunt you at night. and you so badly want to spread your legs and have him thrust into you instead.

and then—oh god. satoru hooks his fingers onto the waistband of his underwear, a thin strap that wraps around his pelvis, and begins to pull it down but pauses just as it’s about to slip over his cock. he’s watching you closely, eyes flickering back and forth between your face and your dripping pussy. and you know how eager you must seem, shamefully excited to see what the thin fabric conceals.

but satoru only smiles wickedly and removes his hands entirely, spinning away to the beat of the music. he twists and turns, goes back to thrusting his hips tantalizingly in the air. he runs his hands down his chest, then dips into his underwear again.

“i’m not supposed to take this off, you know,” satoru says, teasing it lower and lower. “but for you, i want to. i really want to.”

you swallow. “w-well—”

the waistband sinks lower, revealing more of his smooth skin. “you’d like that too, wouldn’t you?”

there’s no way you could lie in a situation like this, so you give up all sense of dignity and say, “fuck yes, yes, i—”

your pussy agrees vehemently, throbbing between your legs. you have to choke back a moan when you see the fabric catching and releasing at the head of satoru’s cock, the very tip of it poking out into view.

“i’m sure you do,” satoru hums.

he pulls it back up, playing innocently with the strap, and you swear you could die from the anticipation alone. this has to be the best strip tease you’ve ever gotten by far, but also the most frustrating. you’ve never wanted to rip the clothes off someone so fucking badly before.

but satoru isn’t done yet. he turns around so that his back is facing you and bends over before pulling his underwear all the way down in one go, revealing what little had been hidden by the satin, his ass on full display. then, all too quickly, it’s back up again and this time you do let out an unfiltered groan.

fuck, satoru is beyond skilled at getting you riled up, making your pussy so damn wet with arousal. and he knows it too. when he turns back to face you, the smile on his face is absolutely cruel and he starts to sway his hips again, in that hypnotic way that makes you want to beg him to fuck you already.

“shit, just—” you can’t help but let out a desperate whine. “take it off. please.”

satoru grins like he’s got you right where he wants you and winks. “since you asked so nicely.”

he finally begins to remove his underwear completely—except he goes slow, painfully and torturously slow, revealing one inch of his cock at a time. you’re on the edge of your seat. it feels like an eternity before the whole thing comes off and satoru steps out of it, tossing the last of his clothing somewhere to the side.

for a while, you can only stare. you’re entranced by the way his cock curves up to his abdomen, bobbing in the air, flushed and hard and demanding attention. you’re embarrassingly obvious in the way your eyes are fixated on it, wanting to trace the prominent vein on the underside. wanting to touch and taste it.

that’s when you notice—satoru isn’t just hard; he’s wet, too. beads of precum roll down his shaft, proof that all of this is turning him on as well, that it’s not only for show. a hand wraps around the cock, stroking a few times, and it takes a second for you to realize that he’s jerking himself off right in front of you. holy shit.

“well, what do you think?” satoru asks, twisting his hand and moaning. the tip of his cock is flushed red, now leaking more than before. “was it worth the wait?”

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and the noise that escapes you is not human. but it’s very, very appreciative. you feel your pussy pulsing hard between your legs, wanting so badly for satoru to touch you like how he’s touching himself.

what you don’t expect next is for him to let go entirely and drop down to the floor. smirking, he looks up at you from that position, at the growing wetness where your pussy is hidden behind your panties, and licks his lips. then, on all fours, satoru starts to crawl toward you with evident desire on his face until he’s kneeling right in front of you once again.

heart hammering away in your chest, you swallow thickly as a fresh wave of arousal washes over you. satoru runs his hands up your thighs, rising so that he’s sitting on your lap again, but still not quite close enough for your hips to touch.

he leans forward to lick your ear and you immediately shudder. in a low, seductive voice, he whispers, “i guess you can resist the temptation, after all; you haven’t touched me even once. good girl. do you see how fucking hard i am for you?”

the praise makes your head spin, and you let out a shaky breath, groaning. “s-satoru…”

“want to feel my cock on your pussy?”

that makes your pussy throb, very much into the offer. “fuck, please.”

so, satoru moves closer until you’re touching, his naked cock against your clothed pussy. your bodies pressed together. and then satoru rubs his cockhead up and down your pussy, sliding between your thighs, moving his hips in circular motions, grinding into you like he’s determined to take you apart. throughout it all, he’s watching you with an intensity that has your whole body burning under his gaze.

“does this feel good?” his breath is warm on your neck. “tell me.”

“a-ah—” the next time he fucks against you, you gasp, squirming in your seat. it takes everything you have to not buck up into the delicious friction and shamelessly rut against satoru until you come. “y-yeah, yeah, don’t stop.”

time seems to stretch indefinitely, and satoru takes his sweet time making slow, sensual rolls of his hips, unraveling you little by little. meanwhile, you’re trembling in place, whining and whimpering, pussy aching for release. it’s driving you fucking crazy, mind swimming with pleasure. you know that you’re probably not going to last much longer like this, and it feels like he’s been teasing you for hours.

satoru is getting off on this too, just as vocal, each thrust growing more and more frantic. his cock leaks onto you. and when he starts talking again, whispering directly into your ear, you lose all semblance of control and feel the arousal building inside you, threatening to tip you over the edge.

“you know,” satoru starts, punctuating his words with a filthy grind that has you moaning, “you caught my eye when i was on stage. i saw you watching me, so turned on… practically fucking me with your eyes. did you think you were being subtle, pretty girl?” he chuckles at your embarrassment. “i could tell that you wanted me. that you were—hah—lusting after my body. and i knew i had to have you all to myself.”

“f-fuck,” you moan, head falling back. you replay the memories of satoru dancing on stage in your head, how he had commanded the whole room, drawing everyone’s attention to the way he worked his body. the body that’s currently on top of you, straddling you and bringing you right to the edge without mercy.

“mm, and i could tell that you tried to resist it at first. but i love breaking down girls like you. i love the challenge. and look at you now, baby.” satoru slides one hand up your shirt to latch onto your nipple again, and the other hand to circle your clit through your panties. the combined stimulation makes you cry out, driving you to the brink of madness. “so wrecked for me. you want it so fucking bad, don’t you?”

the moan that escapes you is loud and needy and you’re basically begging at this point. you sneak a glance down at where you two connect, the sight satoru’s cock on your pussy so fucking lewd, and you think you’re going to come at any second now. “ngh—satoru—s-satoru—you’re gonna make me—”

“yeah,” satoru breathes out, voice raspy. he picks up the pace, rocking into you much harder than before. “yeah, bet you want me to put my cock in that tight little pussy of yours, huh? f-feel me throbbing inside you while i fuck you—hah—fuck you so hard and deep—”

“oh, my god,” you curse, panting under him. you’re a shaking mess, and you can’t stop yourself anymore; your hips rise to join satoru’s, meeting his every thrust. you can feel it; you’re right there, right there. your orgasm is hovering just on the periphery. “a-ah, fuck—i’m—i’m gonna—”

satoru hums in acknowledgement. he shifts his position a little, lifting a leg up to get a better angle, and continues grinding on you, daring you to let go. at the same time, his hand circles your clit even faster, sending tingles all throughout your body. “just like that, baby. imagine how good it would feel to have me thrusting inside you.”

pleasure rushes through you so fast it makes you dizzy. your pussy is pulsing and throbbing, so fucking wet that your panties are completely soiled by now, beyond saving. and you can’t hold back anymore, you’re going to come; you’re going to come right here in front of satoru, shamelessly, and you want it, you want it so bad—

“fuck, fuck, i can’t—w-wait, stop, i’m really—o-oh, i’m close—”

“wanna see you come for me,” satoru encourages, grinding even more deliberately against you, bringing you closer and closer to your climax with each calculated roll of his hips. “you’ll let me come too, right? be a g-good girl now, and let me come all over your panties.”

“god, yes, give it to me,” you moan, so incredibly turned on by the idea of satoru spilling on your panties, right over your throbbing pussy. it’s so fucking hot. your body is moving on instinct, and all you can think about is chasing after your release. “hah—hah—s-satoru—” you pant, shaking and writhing. “i can’t—can’t hold—ngh—gonna—"

and satoru’s mouth is right by your ear again when he says, “that’s it, baby. show me what that pretty face of yours looks like when you come.”

holy shit—hearing that, you don’t think you could hold back any longer even if you wanted to. with a strangled cry, you throw your head back on the couch, hips bucking up wildly and back arching into satoru. your thighs are trembling when you come, pussy pulsing, pulsing, pulsing and making a sticky mess of yourself. it’s all overwhelming and your chest heaves, only vaguely aware that satoru is coming, too.

he fucks you through your orgasm and his cock throbs hard before he’s moaning your name, hips stuttering and shooting out his release is spurts. his come splatters all over you, just like he said, white and thick and filthy on your stomach and panties. landing right over your clit, over your pussy. you moan again, sounding broken, fucked out. it’s a waste—you’d rather have his come inside you—but the erotic sight of it makes up for that.

satoru’s cock is still twitching, even a few seconds after you’ve both caught your breaths. he hovers over you, that perfect body—strong thighs and hard abs and those striking blue eyes, the intense look he gives you that makes him irresistible. god, you weren’t supposed to be this easy to seduce.

slowly, you inhale and reorient yourself, feeling the aftermath of your orgasm subsiding. your mind is still a bit hazy. when you meet satoru’s gaze, all you can say is, “fuck.”

“that good?” satoru asks, always so damn smug and full of himself. he runs a hand through his hair, smirking. “don’t miss my cock too much when i'm gone. next time, i just might consider fucking your pussy for real and giving you a taste of true pleasure.”

his fingers find your panties again, your swollen pussy, and rubs the area. you gasp, hips jerking. so sensitive, especially after your orgasm. and satoru knows, of course he knows; he did it on purpose. he loves being able to get a reaction out of you, controlling your body with a single touch.

you try to glare at him, but it’s weak. it hardly means anything after he gave you one of the best orgasms of your life, making you come so hard without even putting his cock in you. without even touching your pussy directly. it’s the kind of orgasm that you’ll replay in your mind when you’re alone at night and feeling pent up and horny, picturing him in your mind as you get yourself off.

next time. well, you think. you definitely hadn’t been planning to come back to the strip club after today, but now you suppose that it can’t hurt to make another visit if satoru is going to be there.

.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree

(comment to be added)

[captain-hawks]

hii dee! thanks so much for indulging us with these spicy sleepovers :3 for this weekend, what about mattsun and a summer carnival? I'm not sure if you're familiar with disco pang pang but I have the clearest image in my mind of the ride operator shaking you onto his lap and when you land you're like "why tf does this guy have an entire can of pringles in his pants" (it is not a can of pringles 🤭)

(oh my god i love you for this idea HAAAAAAAAAA. please suspend your disbelief as i pretend i know what i'm talking about with this ride for the sake of the horny agenda<3)

dizzy

issei matsukawa x f!reader

...in which your quiet little crush on mattsun suddenly becomes a big, hard, wholly unavoidable affair when you find yourself accidentally straddling his lap on a ride at the carnival.

c: 18+ only, dry humping, mattsun's big dick

“I hate you, Oikawa!” you yelp, fingers scrambling for purchase on the metal bars behind you as the spinning wheel of death whirs to life and immediately sends you careening sideways, your knees knocking into Makki’s. 

“It’ll be fun!” he’d exclaimed when you arrived at the bustling summer carnival and stumbled across the Disco Pang Pang ride, proceeding to show you several viral videos of the horrific ride in other places as you waited in line with him, Mattsun, and Makki.

(Iwaizumi had taken one look at it and proclaimed, “Absofuckinglutely not.”)

(You regret not following his lead.)

“This is fun!” Oikawa shouts, leaning over Makki on your left. You’d reach out to punch the boyish grin off of his face, if you weren’t currently holding on for dear life as the ride operator decides it’s time to start bouncing up and down as well. 

There’s another violent spin in the other direction, and you groan loudly, closing your eyes as your body slides, and you can hear a warm laugh beside you—Mattsun. Your breath hitches in your throat as you become hyper aware of the way your thighs are nearly flush together.

“Are you okay?” he asks, nose brushing against your ear to ensure you can hear him over the screams and laughter around you. 

His breath is hot against your neck, and your heart thrums behind your ribcage in a heady, dizzy rhythm that leaves you distracted enough that the sweaty fingers of your right hand slip off of the metal bar with a loud squeak. Mattsun’s hand claps down over yours, holding it against the railing, and he glances at you sideways with a grin before looking away again. 

He doesn’t take his hand off of yours.

If it were anyone else, this would be fine.

(And if it were Oikawa beside you, you’d probably use his t-shirt as an anchor if only to accidentally rip the sleeve in the process. As payback and all.)

But this is Mattsun.

Mattsun, with his soft eyes and perpetually tousled hair. His gentle, always slightly amused smile. His oddly attractive collarbones (you’ve never been attracted to fucking collarbones before) and long fingers and muscled forearms. 

Mattsun, who you’ve got a terribly inconvenient crush on. 

The ride continues to spin and bounce, Makki bumping into your other side every so often, both he and Oikawa howling with laughter as another group across from you goes tumbling from their seats. Mattsun’s hand stays exactly where it is.

You nearly end up in Makki’s lap, but Mattsun’s fingers flex a little tighter over yours, and he hooks his ankle over yours to steady you in place. He doesn’t seem perturbed in the slightest as he does it, like the reflex is natural to him. 

Your skin burns everywhere that he touches.

The ride slows down, and for one brief, fleeting moment, you think you’re free to sprint to the nearest cotton candy stand to override the frantic beating of your smitten heart with a sugar rush. 

And then all hell breaks loose as the operator lets out a boisterous laugh and sends the ride careening and bouncing even faster than before.

Makki and Oikawa slide several feet away, collapsing into a group of giggling, shouting girls. A few other people stumble and fall and begin holding on to one another for dear life. And you find yourself momentarily airborne, your entire body flinging upwards and sideways until two strong arms wrap around you and firmly tug you downward.

Right into Mattsun’s lap.

The ride continues to spin, and Mattsun holds you tight, the arm that’s still around you tensing to keep you from getting jostled too much after each subsequent spin and jump as he holds the bar with the other.

It should be jarring, the feeling of his broad chest flush against your back, his chin on your shoulder. 

But as you slip just enough that you end up straddling just one of his legs, you suddenly find it incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything other than the way his muscled thigh is pressing right into your core, the rigid seam of your jean shorts doing you no favors in lessening the feeling currently unfurling in your abdomen.

Mattsun notices you’re sliding forward, and he drags you back into the cradle of his lap. Biting down on your lower lip, you stifle the moan that threatens to crawl up your throat at the pressure it puts on your clit in the process.

And then all thoughts swiftly leave your mind when you feel something hard pressing into your ass.

Something very hard and very fucking big. 

Spending time with Oikawa, Makki, Iwa, and Mattsun has made you privy to far too many things, like their jokes about the latter’s “big dick.”

So while you should have been at least marginally prepared in some capacity, when the ride jumps and you bounce in his lap again, finding yourself straddling both of his legs again with your legs spread wide to steady yourself, you still gasp when you’re treated to the accidental experience of your cunt dragging down the full, thick outline of his shaft.

You pray he didn’t hear you.

The ride carries on spinning, and you grow more and more wet with each turn, your soaked panties digging into your slick, dripping folds as you bounce on Mattsun’s dick. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear Mattsun’s breathing sounds a little ragged against your shoulder, and his grip on your side slides a little lower, his fingers grasping your hip instead. With the way your shirt’s ridden up, his thumb and pointer finger are against your bare skin, which does little to cool the wet, blazing heat currently gushing between your legs. 

You’re dizzy with arousal, pleasure simmering through your veins as your pussy greedily lets gravity stroke your folds against Mattsun’s cock. 

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, and his voice is low and rough. “Are you—”

The ride bounces again, and a sharp, vibrant burst of pleasure sears your nerve endings. You gasp.

Mattsun fucking groans.

—and you nearly explode.

He takes your earlobe between his teeth. “Does it feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, inhaling sharply as he subtly grinds up into you, biting back a whimper.

“Fuck,” he rasps, exhaling roughly as he does it again, harder this time.

“Mattsun,” you breathe out, sounding more than a little desperate.

“Can you come like this?” he asks, his pointer finger slipping past the waistband of your shorts just enough to tug at your panties, pulling them even tighter against your aching pussy.

You nod again, afraid you’ll moan if you open your mouth, and Mattsun kisses the side of your neck. 

To anyone else, if they could possibly be watching while they’re busy fighting the push and tug of the ride, the two of you just look like a couple holding on to one another as you try not to go flying into anyone else.

Mattsun presses another hot kiss just behind your earlobe. “Come for me, then.”

Those four words alone are enough to send you hurling over the edge into the throes of an intense, shuddering orgasm, the shape of the syllables on his plush lips far more filthy than you ever could have imagined. 

But paired with the way he firmly pulls your hips down against his cock as he grinds up into you, you’re an absolute goner—the only saving grace for the shout of pleasure that accidentally tumbles past your lips is the way everyone else on the ride is also in the middle of another bout of screams and laughter as well.

Neither you or Mattsun say anything to each other when you finally exit the ride, though his hand ghosts over the small of your back as you follow a stumbling, giggling Oikawa and Makki toward where Iwa is waiting with his arms crossed on a bench nearby.

(But shortly after, when you excuse yourself to find a bathroom, you don’t have to look behind you to know that Mattsun’s following you, his fingers tangling with yours before he presses you up against a wall and kisses you until you can’t breathe.)

[myfictionaldreams]

Merry Christmas // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, costumes/roleplay, rough oral (f and m receiving), rough sex, size kink, praise kink, choking, sir kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace, aftercare

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry, it's been a while since I've posted; I promise to get back to requests at some point. Until then, I just wanted to post a little something and to say Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Holidays to everyone else!

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Winter was one of your utterly favourite months just for moments like the one you were currently experiencing. The snow layered thickly against the outside of your home, causing a darkened shadow on the inside, which only meant that the blazing fire lit the sitting area in beautiful deep orange and red. The sweet smell of hot cocoa wafted from the kitchen, only making your smile grow as you pulled the fluffy blanket further up your body until the only exposed part of you was your face.

Your back nuzzled further into the soft cushions of the coach you were waiting patiently on, watching the movie with half interest as the comfort of the moment had you wanting to drift into sleep. What’s more was that the meetings that had been planned for later in the evening had inevitably been cancelled due to the freezing weather, which meant that you knew you could sit in with your two boyfriends without the fear of them being out on the dangerous roads, just to attend a threatening meeting.

They were home. Safe. With you.

Blinking open an eye and looking around the room, it dawned on you that they’d been gone from your side for so long that the parts of the cushions they’d been sitting on had turned cold. You’d been drifting between sleep and trying to cuddle closer to them for an hour when Bucky shifted, causing a groan to burst from your throat.

He’d simply kissed your temple tenderly, earning a much-deserved smile in return as he explained that he would make the three of you hot cocoa. Steve had then mumbled something about helping him, but you were too busy trying to reposition your body and get used to not having them squishing either side of you.

Sitting up slightly on the couch, you glanced briefly over the back towards where the kitchen was to see if you could spot either Steve or Bucky, but neither were in sight.

“What’s taking you both so long? I’m getting so cold and lonely out here without you”, you shouted idly with a hint of a whine for emphasis. As you stared up at the TV attached to the wall above the fireplace, you contemplated what film the three of you could watch tonight when you became distracted by the footsteps coming from the kitchen. Frowning, you began to shout, “What took you both so … long?”

Any words you were thinking of asking were swiftly forgotten as your view of the TV was replaced by both of your boyfriends, each standing in oversized Santa trousers, each held up by black suspenders over their shoulders. The red velvet material that covered their strong legs was cuffed with thick white fluff around the ankles and waistline. However, your attention wasn’t forced on this as your eyes squinted, not quite believing the detail; “Have you oiled your chests?” you asked quietly, throat suddenly thick with saliva.

Bucky smirked, tensing his pecs so that you could see the oil's gleam better in the fire's orange light. In any other situation, you might have laughed at the fact that they looked like wannabe Santa strippers, but your pussy was being a traitor with the deep pulse that had your thighs clenching with the desperate need to find some relief.

The baby oil that covered the top half of their naked body seemed to extenuate the god-like bodies they both had, the muscles over their arms and abs flexing with the subtle movements they were both making. Even Bucky’s metal arm was oiled, causing the silver shade to shimmer and gleam.

Your head swivelled between admiring the both of them, unsure what to say or how to act. Thankfully, Steve was the first to speak, his thumbs hooking into the base of the black suspenders as he asked in a deep, gravely voice, “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

Your lips automatically flicked up at the corners to a teasing smile, but the single eyebrow raised by Steve had you falling right into the trap. All the thoughts that had crossed your mind to laugh and joke with them had quickly melted into the submissive, needy girlfriend that they both wanted.

“Um, nice - I think, " you respond before biting your lower lip, a move that had both Steve and Bucky reaching forward, but the latter made first contact, his metal thump gently easing out the lip from between your teeth.

“Nice huh? You sure about that, Doll?” Bucky asked, his fingers firmly holding your chin so you could not look away from him.

You shivered as Steve eased away the blanket, and even though the room wasn’t cold, the sensations pulsing through your core had your body overreacting. Your eyes had drifted over to Steve, who had squatted to be closer to your height, but a sharp tug on your chin from Bucky had your attention back on him as you tried to form the words to respond to him. “Ye-yes. Yes, I’ve been nice”.

A sharp gasp left your mouth as a quick tug of your nipple from Steve had your body shifting upright. With your arousal building, your nipples had pebbled beneath the thin, oversized top that you wore. Bucky’s eyes seemed to darken as he watched your reaction, the subtle way your hips ground on the couch.

“Really? Because from what I’ve seen, it looks like you’re being a very naughty girl right now. Tell me, Sweetheart, what do you want for Christmas?”

“You”, your response was instantaneous, and it seemed to be the correct answer with the way Bucky smiled down at you before releasing your chin.

“Well, it still remains to be seen if you’ve really been a good girl”, Bucky emphasised the last two words, knowing just how those words stroke the deep praise kink that further warmed your pussy, your wetness beginning to coat your lips and drench your shorts.

“Pl-please let me prove it. I want to be both of yours, good girl.” You look between where Bucky still stood above you, and Steve knelt at your side.

“That’s the thing, Sweetheart. The boss down there seems to agree with you. He thinks you’ve been a good girl all year round for his treats, but me? I’m not convinced; I think I need you to show me just how good you can be”, Bucky explains with darkness lacing his words. “Stand up”, he orders, full of authority. You do, being careful not to knock into Steve as you stand with enough speed that you are somewhat lightheaded. Both of their hands were on you in a split second. Steve grabbed the waistline of your shorts, and Bucky pulled the shirt up and over your head until the two of them had you standing completely bare.

Ungracefully, Bucky pushed against your shoulder, forcing you to sit back onto the warm cushions, looking up at him with wide eyes. A gentle tremor was pulsing through your body with anticipation of what was to come. Your cunt would have been soaked just from the way they were both acting, but with the outfits as well, you were near feral with need.

Bucky’s warm hand gently wrapped around your throat, his thumb and forefinger on either side of your neck, feeling the galloping pace of your heartbeat as you stared up at him. “Will you do everything I say?” he asks with a more gentler tone than before.

“Yes, sir”, you say, voice laced with desperation.

“Good, then I need you to ignore everything that Boss is going to do to you. The only thing I want you to do is to keep your eyes on me”.

“Yes, sir”.

With great ease, Bucky pushed against your neck, forcing you to sit back correctly against the cushions as he began to stand on the couch, just as Steve moved between your legs on the floor, lifting them until your legs lay over his shoulders.

With the oil, your legs wanted to slip off, so his massive hands had to grip onto the flesh of your thighs, keeping them thoroughly in place as he lowered his face to the heat and wetness that was begging for his touch.

As his tongue caressed the length of your pussy, drinking down the juices you’d seeped in the moments of seeing them in the outfits, your moan was cut off by the light squeeze around your throat from Bucky as he subtly reminded you of his demand. Your eyes moved away from Steve and up to the tall, foreboding figure above you as Bucky’s metal hand drifted to his suspenders, pushing them off each shoulder.

“Remember what I said. I want you to ignore him down there and keep your eyes on me. Now, why don’t you prove to me why you should be on the nice list?”. 

You were unsure if, by ignoring, he meant for you not to moan or react to Steve’s tongue as it circled your swollen bundle of nerves, but it was damn near impossible to be silent as the waves of toe-curling pleasure sparked through your core. However, your mouth was now salivating for another reason as Bucky pushed the red velvet material down his hips until midthigh, and the thick, veined cock of your boyfriend was throbbing in the air before your face.

Resting your hands on Bucky’s thicks and licking your lips whilst also trying not to crush Steve with your thighs, you willed Bucky to come closer with a pathetic squeak. Thankfully, he removed his hand from your throat and rested it on the back of the couch, using it to lower his body and directing his cock to your mouth. You didn’t waste a second before licking around the tip, gathering all the precum into your mouth before swallowing the salty goodness down, swiftly followed by a few inches of his hard length.

Bucky’s sigh was praise enough to have you feeling sated and happy as you began to pleasure him with your tongue and mouth, almost matching the movements of Steve between your legs.

“That’s it, just a little more; I know you can take it”, Bucky encouraged with a firm hand on the back of your head. As his cock reached the back of your throat and the overwhelming urge to gag overcame you, you attempted to relax your throat to take him deeper, which thankfully worked, ignoring the tears that now lined your eyes from the stimulation.

It didn’t help matters that your throat kept spasming with the moans and whines from Steve’s treatment of your pussy. He was eating you like the man was starved. Devouring is the best way to describe the way he was licking you out. His tongue changed from delving into the depths of your soaking cunt, twisting and turning to stimulate all the nerves within, just to then pull out and his teeth to gently graze your clit, causing a throb from your walls which was the gently eased by his tongue once more.

It took almost no time at all before you were cumming into his mouth with a flush of heat and added wetness that coated his chin and cheeks. Steve didn’t stop, though, and used your overstimulation post-orgasm to draw you closer to a second orgasm.

Your nails digging into the soft material of Bucky’s Santa trousers helped to keep your ground and not drown in the overwhelming length that was still forcing down your throat. With all the time you’d been with Steve and Bucky, you’d thankfully been able to train your throat to be fucked and take more of their length compared to when you were first with Steve.

This feat was a minor miracle because when Bucky began to take control of the situation and gyrated his hips so that he was now just straight-up, fucking your throat, it meant that you were able to breathe through your nose at the correct times without panicking.

Saliva had filled your mouth from the fucking and was steadily dripping down your chin, causing obscene sloppy noises to come from you, but this only added more praising groans from Bucky as you knew he loved a sloppy blowjob.

“Fuck, you’re being such a good girl, Doll. Remember what I said, eyes on me only”. You tried to nod, but the cock in your mouth hindered your movements as your eyes remained focused on the buzz-cut brunette standing over you.

This became more difficult as you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye as you came for the third time. Steve was beginning to straighten his height but remained on his knees; however, your legs were lowered until wrestling around his waist, but his grip remained tight and firm, keeping them in place.

Without warning, immense pressure and stretching of your cunt began to contort your body as Steve began to fuck into your cunt. Thankfully Bucky pulled out enough that you could gasp without his cock filtering the noise as your eyes clenched shut from the welcomed intrusion. Inch after inch filled your empty hole until his hips were flush against yours.

As you and Steve both released a relieved sigh, the dominating hand on the back of your head began to firmly tug your lips closer to Bucky’s cock once more until you were full with both of them.

The two worked together like they did in every aspect of the word. One of them remained in your body as the other pulled out. In out, in out, they fucked you until you were a trembling, wet mess.

Thankfully, now, they were both heavily praising you, which was like sweet music to your ears.

“Taking my cock so well”.

“Fuck, you always make me feel so good. Yes, just like that”.

“Such a good girl, Doll. I know you wanna cum on Steve’s cock; do it. Cum for him”.

You did. Many times, in fact. Steve had you cuming so many times that you’d lost count as a sweet warmth wrapped around your brain, leaving you feeling like you weren’t in your mundane house anymore but amongst the clouds, floating endlessly in pleasure. Your hands had dropped to your side as all of your energy was now being reserved for sucking Bucky’s cock and taking the punishing pace of Steve’s.

Eventually, Steve was the first to cum with a harsh grunt and snap of his hips as heat and thick wetness flooded into your cunt. He remained in place, holding your legs around his waist as his cock began to soften.

Bucky’s chest was now glistening with both sweat and oil as his eyebrows pinched together, his cheeks rosy with a flush as he groaned deeply, “I’m cumming, holy shit-”. You did gag this time as his entire cock bulged into your throat, the whisps of trimmed hair on his pubic mount tickling your nose as he came.

You worked hard to swallow every drop of him down until your lungs were burning for breath, and he gently eased out of your aching jaw. Your mouth tingled as you licked your swollen lips, sure that if you tried to talk now, all that you’d be able to achieve is a dreadful, deep, gravely voice.

Bucky leapt off the couch, disappearing into another direction you were too tired to follow. Thankfully, Steve remained with you as he carefully repositioned the two of you so that he now sat in the middle of the seat and had you sitting in his lap. Your head felt heavy as it lulled against his slipped chest, but you still hummed in contentment as he kissed your forehead sweetly whilst wrapping his strong hands around your shoulders.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I need you to drink some of this; it’ll help your throat”, Bucky encouraged a few moments later as he sat next to the two of you with a mug of steaming hot cocoa. Steve helped lift your head as Bucky held the drink out, tipping it slightly so that you could drink a couple of sips, moaning at the chocolatey sweet taste and the warmth that did soothe your sore throat.

“Well done, just a little more”, Steve whispered against your cheek as he lay delicate kisses against your sensitive skin.

Finally, with the drink gone, Bucky leaned closer to you, giving your lips a much-deserved kiss before pulling away with a cheeky glint in his eye. “So, do you like the outfits? They were Nat’s idea. Pretty sure she meant it as a joke”, he wondered out loud, but your giggle and nod recaptured his attention.

“I loved them”, you whispered with a voice thick with tiredness and evidence from being thoroughly fucked.

“Good, because I can’t wait to see what you’ll look like in the outfit we bought you. We think you’d be the perfect match to be Mrs Clause, but I must admit, there was significantly less material”, Steve explained as his fingers massaged into your still aching legs.

“I can’t wait, but maybe tomorrow”, you admit tiredly, relaxing further into the arms of both of them. 

[tojisun]

I don’t even know if this is both a thing or even hot but grinding your pussy on soaps chest and using his nipple to nudge at your clit

It’s all I can’t think about and idk if it’s weird!!!

this got me wet so fast oh my fucking god? LIKE. idk if its a thing but it should be because HHHH??? dont mind me rambling something thats surely gonst be unedited again—

“c’mere, bon,” he grunts, hefting you up his abdomen with callused palms pressed flat on the flesh of your ass. you hum, sliding on your knees, feeling so utterly bare as each move has you spreading your legs even wider, until you are sure that your cunt is in full display.

johnny makes quiet hushing noises, hands kneading your ass in comfort. it’s endearing despite the debauchery of everything—how he’s looking up at you with shimmering eyes, his cheeks so prettily flushed that it has you addicted. your breaths coming out in ragged rasps because you did that to him.

made him all so desperate by hanging your pussy close enough to reach but far from his mouth. you know that johnny’s always loved eating pussy—making such a filthy mess with your slick, ensuring that every drop is gulped down or at least smeared on his face for him to bask in, like it’s some sort of war trophy.

it’s hot and mind-numbing, but this is new territory. it’s some sort of a turn-on, he said. something about seeing it from a video and getting inspired.

so here you are, hovering over his chest, your breaths suspended in your anticipation.

“go on then, lass,” johnny murmurs, still not letting go of your ass. “make a show f’r me, yeah?”

“okay,” you murmur because what else is there to say?

it was awkward, kind of clunky with how wide johnny is between your legs, but the first brush of your cunt—all slicked slit and throbbing clit—on his pec makes you keen, stuttering to a halt for a moment as you catch your breath, and then you’re off, your hands planted on either side of his face for purchase, hips thrusting to grind whatever you can on johnny’s chest.

“yeah,” he says because he always runs his mouth when it is not filled and busy. “jus’ like that love. yer a prize, ye know that? so cute and dirty, grindin’ on me like i don’t fuck ye good.”

“haaa—johnnnnny,” you whine, desperation bloating because it feels good, it really does, but it’s not enough. it’s all muted pleasure and quiet thrums, like everything is just a teasing caress.

johnny laughs, and it’s almost mocking. “ye say my name so prettily, bon.”

his fingers have dipped lower now, leaving his hands to find purchase on the back of your thighs. his hold dimples your skin, and it gives his fingers room to tease your leaking slit—fucking in shallowly, like he’s just dipping them in to see how wet you’ve become.

a teasing reply builds on the back of your throat, curling, ready to drip out from the corners of your mouth, only—

something changes; it might be johnny’s hold or the way your legs buckle down, but whatever it could be has you toppling over. his voice rises in concern, but you’re deaf to it all, with how your clit brushed against his pebbled nipple.

it has you jerking in surprise, your mouth gargling unintelligibly at the sharp brush of pleasure that races from your pussy. your reactions make johnny pause too, his eyes going wide as he watches the way you try to chase after the bliss—pulling back, shuffling on your knees, before intentionally bucking into his tit.

it’s—

it’s a goddamn beauty, is what it is.

he snarls, hands leaving your ass to press on the back of your head and push you down towards him. he snags your lips for a fervid kiss—all nipping teeth and possessive tongue licking into your mouth.

he’d have to send a fruit basket to his LT and his girl because this? johnny might just have found his new favourite thing.