#he squeezes through a cat door that’s the size of his head

[imogenkol]

One of the joys (and challenges) of being a pet sitter is getting that occasional dog that is an absolute fruitcake

[kitten4sannie]

trendsetter

reach for my goals, hit it dead center

pairing: idol ex! mingi x fem! reader

genre: an actual idol au omg, smut

summary: mingi reminds you why he was so hard to leave in the first place, well, the first few times, anyway.

w.c: 3.3k

bc i’m bigger, better

warnings: brief weed use/shotgunning (mingi’s a plug in another life btw <3), mingi’s kinda a dickhead and a master manipulator (damn double homicide), dom! mingi, subby! reader, mingi’s got a big cawk, glove ? kink? idk bro, exhibitionism, teasing, praise/degradation, pet names galore/name calling, tit play, spit, fingering, finger sucking (leads to some gagging), oral (giving), deep-throating, cum eating, grinding, kissing, size kink, breeding kink, mingi fucks reader raw on the hood of her own car hallelujahhhh

a/n: don’t blame me for this btw,, blame mingi mango and the things he’s been posting on ig 😮‍💨 this man makes me delirious istg. also i wrote this while incredibly sleep deprived just so yk !! there might be some grammar and spelling errors (as well as a general sense of lunacy ✨) regardless i hope you enjoy and please do let me know if you liked it bc feedback is like a treat for me and im a treat hungry lil goblin uwu <3

song recs: so damn into you by vlad holiday - come 2 me by johnny goth - liquid by boston manor

Mingi barely made it two steps past one of the various emergency exit doors of the booming, hectic arena, dropping his lighter on the ground when his favorite ex suddenly came waltzing back into his life again after just swiftly exiting it for the nth time.

“Where are my car keys? I know you have them,” you abruptly confronted him, snatching the lighter from the ground before he could grab it and sliding it inside your tank top, right in between your tits.

“Why would I have your car keys, sugar?” Mingi sighed exasperatedly, walking in your direction until he towered over you, gently clasping his calloused hands around your upper arms so he could rub them up and down in an effort to calm you, gently turning you around until your back pressed into the cool metal of the emergency door. “Can you use that pretty little head of yours for me, Y/N? I just performed right now. I was busy rehearsing before that. Do you really think I would take your keys from you just to keep you from leaving?”

“Yes, I do. You always do some fuck shit like this when I try to leave. Every time, Mingi.” Despite the furrow of your brow and the contempt present within your words, you couldn’t help but watch as Mingi’s thumbs began to press into the sides of your tits. When you didn’t say anything, he began to press the rest of his gloved fingers into the softness of your chest.

“Some fuck shit like this?” Mingi asked under his breath, studying your flushed face to gauge your reaction as he squeezed your tits against the palms of his rough hands, rubbing his thumbs teasingly against the thin material of your sports bra until he felt your nipples harden. “You aren’t tell me to stop, baby. Cat got your tongue?”

“I hate you…” you whispered softly, not understanding why you never had the strength to deny him, even in a public, though empty alleyway, even after you just broke up with him only a little while ago.

“You don’t seem to hate this…Your body’s responding to me…” Mingi suddenly pinched your nipples through your sports bra, chuckling at the gasp you let out. He leaned down, bringing his lips to your ear to whisper, “I bet you don’t hate how wet I’m making you right now, either. Is your cunt throbbing for me already, Y/N?”

“N-no…” You bit into your bottom lip when your ex let out a disapproving ‘uh-uh’ as you turned your head to look away from him, squeezing your thighs together, hoping your arousal wouldn’t drip past your short skirt.

With one hand still clasped around your tit to play with it, Mingi brought the other up to grasp your chin, making you face him again, so close that you were breathing in each other’s air, your parted lips almost touching. “You’ll let me check to see if you’re lying, won’t you, sugar? Can I see how many fingers I can fit inside your tight little cunt?”

You hated how much your body and soul still burned for your lecherous ex, hated how desperate you suddenly were for him to have his way with you, but what you hated most of all was the way you whimpered out, “Please, Minnie.”

Mingi groaned softly at the use of his pet name, feeling most of his blood began to head below the belt, letting go of your chin, the both of you watching as his hand disappeared underneath your skirt. He instantly slipped two thick fingers inside you up to the knuckles, despite wearing a pair of thick leather gloves, the both of you moaning at the squelching sound your bare, wet cunt made. “That’s my girl. You wore this slutty little skirt and no panties just for me, didn’t you? You don’t even care about getting out of here with your keys. You just wanted me to put my hands all over you one last time, yeah?”

Just as you were about to respond, Mingi suddenly stuffed his leather-bound fingers into your mouth, making you taste your own warm wetness. “A-aaahn,” you moaned around his moving digits, feeling them slip along your hot tongue, looking up at your ex’s intensely dark gaze.

“Suck,” he simply requested, smiling fondly at the sight of your plush lips closing around his fingers, pushing them further and further back until he made you gag around them, his cock throbbing at the sight of your teary doe eyes. “Oh, baby, if you’re going to be looking at me like that and making those pretty noises, I’m gonna lose it…but, you can take it, right? My fingers in your throat?”

You whined softly, trying your best not to gag more around his moving fingers, relaxing your throat enough so that the only sound that could be heard was your moans and the abundance of saliva in your mouth.

“Good girl.” Mingi slipped his fingers out of your mouth and pressed his lips onto your cheek, whispering, “Can you take my cock down your throat next, pretty girl? I worked so hard to perform tonight, you know. Don’t you think I deserve head from my favorite ex?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself agreeing, your head still fuzzy from having his fingers inside your mouth, desperate to have something else warm and thick on your tongue, thankful for the heavy hand that began to push your head down until your bare knees were resting against the cold concrete below.

“Say ‘aaah’,” Mingi cooed darkly from above, expertly undoing his thick belt buckle and lowering his pants until his stiff, reddened cock smacked up into his abdomen. It was then that his hands were drawn to either side of your head, barely giving you enough time to open your mouth before he thrusted forward, the tip of his cock instantly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuckkkk, that’s a good slut. You don’t have to be my girlfriend to be my fuck toy, huh, baby?”

Your moans of approval were instantly muffled by the massive cock that was being stuffed inside your throat by your eager ex, as you reached up to grasp at his hips, the shiny lighter that was still sitting in between your tits starting to jostle around due to Mingi’s rough movements.

Suddenly reminded of his post-concert ritual, Mingi reached into his back pocket and placed a joint between his lips, then fished the lighter out from between your tits, but not before he squished one of them for the hell of it. He rolled the dial on the lighter a few times before a flame sparked, bringing it up and lighting the tip of his joint.

The strong aroma of Mingi’s flower reached you in an instant, having to blink your many tears away to watch him take a deep puff of it and blow it out into your face. Your lips tingling from the immense stretch, you sputtered around his pulsing cock, suddenly pulling away, letting your spit laced lips rest against his leaking tip, weakly licking at the pre-cum that spilled from it. “M-minnie…”

“Why’d you stop?” Mingi grunted, biting on the tip of the joint to keep it from falling from his lips, looking down at you with his sharp, slightly red eyes. Using his free hand to jerk himself off with his cockhead pressed to your lips and smearing his pre-cum over them just for his own enjoyment, he slowly realized what was up. “Oh, you want a hit? Aren’t you precious? Come here.”

Mingi slowly lowered himself down into a crouching position, letting go of his cock to grab your chin with his arousal coated fingers, taking in a deeper inhale, the majority of the joint turning to ash, just as he flicked it away into the gutter. He pressed his lips onto yours in an open-mouthed kiss, neither of you bothering to close your eyes as he slowly filled your lungs with smoke.

Just as you began to choke while trying to exhale all the smoke, Mingi dragged his tongue across your own and over your top set of teeth just because he felt like it, before standing back up. “I bet you’re feeling real good now, baby. That was top shelf.” He spat into the palm of his hand and lubed up his cock, before patting your cheek and sliding himself back into the hot haven that was your throat, not wasting a single second to begin pumping himself inside it again, almost like he had never stopped.

Now that both your body and brain were delightfully clouded with a heavy, lustful high, you felt like you could cum just from getting ruthlessly throat-fucked alone, your nails digging into Mingi’s bare hips, more and more tears and saliva dripping along your flushed skin the longer he abused your tiny throat with his oversized length.

“Fuck, I can’t handle it when you cry and drool like that just from sucking my cock, baby. I’m gonna fucking cum,” Mingi groaned deeply from above you, rested his forearms against the emergency door, thrusting sloppily into your mouth. He let out a few short, whiny moans once he began to shudder, plunging his throbbing cock deep inside your throat and staying still. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming. Take my load, princess, ohh my god, that’s it.”

You swallowed the warm, salty liquid as it shot down your throat, only to open your mouth and present your tongue when Mingi pulled out and began to slowly milk his cock, taking the rest of his load on your tongue, not swallowing and simply letting it drip down, a few drops spilling down your chin and getting onto your tits.

“Mm, that’s my messy girl. You’re waiting for me to feed it to you, huh?” Mingi licked at his plush lips from witnessing your obedient nod, pushing his soft cock back into his pants and waiting for you to stand up so that he could collect some of the cum that had escaped your mouth and pushed it back into your mouth. “That’s right, babygirl, clean it all up for me. Mm-hmm, just like that.”

Once you slurped the rest of his load off of his fingers, you wrapped your arms around Mingi’s neck, pressing your heated body into his. “Mingiiii, please fuck me, I can’t take it,” you begged him underneath your breath, pressing your lips onto his neck up to his tense jawline.

“Oh, yeah? You can’t live without this dick, can you?” he questioned you huskily, bringing his wrists up to his mouth one by one to pull his gloves off with his teeth, before reaching past your waist to roughly squeeze his warm hands into your ass. When you grimaced up at him, he tugged your skirt up and spread your ass open to run his fingers down your wet slit from behind, making you whimper. “Admit it, and i’ll fuck you stupid, princess.”

Swallowing down any remaining dignity you had along with the remnants of your ex’s load, you lifted one leg up to hook it around his slim waist, allowing him easier access to you wet cunt, shuddering at the sensation of him shallowly slipping his fingers into and out of you just to tease you. “I can’t live without your cock, Mingi, okay? No one fucks me like you do, so please, make me yours.”

Mingi rubbed the abundant wetness around your cunt, licking his lips hungrily, staring down at you past his dark shades. “Right here? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone sees, princess?”

“I don’t give a fuck if someone sees, just fuck me, please!”

Mingi grinned crookedly, finding deep amusement in your desperation, considering how you were acting just a little while ago. “Where’s your car, baby?”

You pointed down the dark alleyway. “It’s just around the corner over there.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, then picked you up from the ground, hooking both of your thighs around his waist and carrying you over to your car, massaging his hands into your thighs on the way. “I don’t have any condoms, you know.”

When Mingi laid you down on the hood of your car, the cool metal sending goosebumps up and down your exposed, heated skin, you shook your head and smiled softly. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I fuck you raw, and leave you stuffed full of my cum…” Still in between your legs, Mingi bent down to leave kisses, licks, and bites along your neck and collarbone, lowering his pants down just enough to free his length, his slick cock growing hard and heavy against your bare cunt. “Fuck, and when I use my fingers to shove my nut back inside your cunt after…mm, I’m honestly surprised you’re not knocked up for me already…”

“Mingi,” you whined disapprovingly, despite the fresh wave of slick coating your ex’s cock as it repeatedly rubbed back and forth along your cunt.

“What, I thought you liked being my cumslut…my little breeding bitch…my pump n’ dump princess…” Mingi recited playfully, teasing your fluttering hole with the tip of his cockhead, just about driving you to the brink of insanity withi his teasing.

“Shut up, Min, oh my god…”

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” he suggested, hovering close enough to your face for you to pull him in for a desperate kiss that consisted mainly of tongue and teeth, your mouths occasionally making contact in between tongue swipes and lip bites, the both of you panting all the while.

Growing impatient, you slipped your fingers into his choppy hair, tugging his head back until your lips parted, a few strands of saliva still connecting them. “If you don’t put your cock inside me in the next two seconds, I’m going to bite it off. You hear me, Song Mingi?”

Groaning breathily when you tugged at his hair again, Mingi let out a few soft chuckles, taking his shades off and setting them down on the corner of the hood. “Using my government name like that….I must’ve teased you too much. My poor angel, so desperate for cock. I’ll fuck you good, baby. I’ll make it up to you,” he sighed, as he wrapped his fingers around his length, guiding the tip to your entrance and sliding all the way in with ease, the both of you letting out obscene moans. Without any hesitation, Mingi began to buck his hips wildly, his metal belt banging against the hood of your car with each thrust. “Oh, fuck. You feel that? Is it good for you?”

“Yes…!” you cried out, barely about to speak, let alone function, now that your beloved ex was rearranging your guts with his colossal cock.

Huffing, Mingi threw your legs up over his shoulders and laid his body weight on you, essentially folding you in half. He ran his tongue along your jaw, before nipping at it, whispering, “God, you’re always so fucking tight, princess. Gonna milk me for all I’ve got, huh? Cuz’ you’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh, just for you, Minnie…”

“Mm-hmm, that’s why you’re still here even after you broke up with me earlier, baby…why you’re taking my cock on the hood of your car where anyone can see you…” Mingi continued, squeezing his hands into the plumpness of your thighs, getting a good grip on them, so that he could drive himself into you as hard as he possibly could, punching short, breathy moans out of you. “You sound so pretty for me, baby, and fuck, you’re so wet right now….You’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you?”

As soon as it felt like Mingi’s oversized cock had slammed directly into your cervix, you let out an abrupt yell, an overwhelming amount of pleasure suddenly shooting through your body like lightning. “Fuck…! I’m cumming, Minnie, it’s so– oh my god.” You were gonna start whimpering and crying when Mingi gently placed his warm hand over your mouth, watching him nod his head knowingly at you, his suddenly softened gaze never leaving yours.

“That’s a good girl, such a good girl for me, Y/N,” Mingi sighed against your ear, the hot, wet sounds of your bodies colliding together and the ringing inside your ears almost too loud for you to hear him properly. Feeling your wetness pour out onto his cock, Mingi let go of your mouth and cradled your face instead, pressing slow, meaningful kisses onto your lips, a few drops of sweat dripping along the shaved sections of his hair just as your trembling fingers drifted along it. “Want it inside, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you whispered against his moving lips, not even realizing when you were clutching him impossibly close to you.

“That’s my baby…” Mingi pulled all the way out, your mixed arousal forming a milky foam around the base of his cock, before he slowly pushed all the way back in, just in time for him to paint your insides white with his seemingly endless load. He hugged you close to him all the while, pressing kiss and kiss onto your lips, face, and neck, knowing that your turbulent time together was about to come to an end, and wishing he could turn the clock back to spend another second with you.

Once your highs began to fade, you cleared your throat and slowly sat up, the both of you silently fixing your disheveled clothes and hair in a poor attempt to look presentable in the case of a random passerby.

“So…since you don’t have my keys, I’m not sure how I’m gonna get out of here,” you sighed, about to push yourself off of the hood of your car when Mingi helped you off instead, annoyed that he was suddenly acting gentlemanly when he had shown you nothing of the sort beforehand.

Smiling apologetically, Mingi fished around in one of his pockets and held your keys up to you. “I took them out of your purse before the show started.” Seeing the anger blossom on your pretty, flushed face, he continued, “Listen, I just wanted you to hear me out before you left and never came back to me, baby. I love you.”

You snatched the keys out of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back to sit on the hood of your car, keeping your thighs pressed together to keep everything from leaking out of you. “You don’t get to say that after you just made me your ‘pump n’ dump princess’, you idiot.”

“But I didn’t dump you, Y/N. You’re the one who dumped me!” Mingi whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his brown eyes growing wide and puppy-like.

You couldn’t help but begin to laugh, not only at the ludicrous situation you were both in, but at the truth of his statement. Wiping a tear from your eye, you clicked your keys to unlock your car and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“No, we’re going to the store to get Plan B, dummy. I’m not about to let Mingi Jr. run around and terrorize the city,” you replied, gazing at your ex, the sight of his childlike amusement making you feel a bit soft towards him.

“I call shotgun!” Mingi called, eagerly heading to the passenger door, practically bouncing on his heels.

“There’s only two of us,” you giggled, sitting down in the car with him.

“For now.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You turned the ignition on, shaking your head, the corners of your lips hurting from how long you had been smiling. “Never say that shit again.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[luveline]

If you’re doing requests could you do KBD during Halloween?

uncle Eddie makes sure Steve has the perfect costume. mom!reader

Steve smiles at himself in the mirror. Wren, in his arms, smiles back. 

“We look handsome,” he says, lifting her so her face is level with his own. “I look handsome. You look beautiful.” 

“Hi,” she says. 

Steve turns down to her. “Hi, baby.” 

Avery climbs onto a chair and waves at the mirror. Her fairy princess dress is shiny blue. “Hello.” 

Beth climbs onto the chair after her, wrapping her arms around Avery’s shoulders. “Hi!” she says, force of her greeting sending her pirates hat careening to the floor. 

“Are you ready?” you call from upstairs. “Everyone still has their shoes on?” 

“Dove doesn’t,” Avery says. 

“Tattle!” Dove cries, a picture of fury in her kitty cat onesie, her glued-on whiskers twitching fiercely.

“Well, you don’t.” 

“My toes are warm,” Dove whines, thrusting herself at Steve’s legs. “Daddy, she’s telling on me.” 

“I know, and now you’re telling on her. You’re my little band of tattle-tales, I don’t love it.” Steve smooths along Wren’s face with his finger and takes in a breath big enough to fill his lungs. “Can you let Beth put your shoes back on?” 

“No.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

You fit Dove into her shoes and get the kids to the car. Four car seats is tough work but nothing you can’t handle, and you’re still in chipper spirits when you arrive at the Munson house. It’s decked out in cobwebs and great big spiders made of tinsel and bendy framing, carved pumpkins leading up the steps with fleshy teeth and candles unburned in their maws. Wren gives a comical gasp when she sees it all, a tad scared but quickly soothed when you pretend to be scared too. 

Beth races up the steps first to knock. 

The door opens a slither. 

“Who goes there?” a dark voice asks. 

“Uncle Eddie, it’s me!” Beth says quickly. Her excitement again sends her hat to the stone patio beneath her cons, but she doesn’t notice it, vying to squeeze through the door and see her favourite uncle. 

“I don’t know any Me’s. You’ll have to come back another day, I’m waiting for my very favourite troupe of little girls.” 

“It’s BETH!” Beth shrieks, “Come on!”

“Bethany?” Eddie pushes the door open, unsurprised when Beth throws herself full force into his legs. “Why, you look dastardly. How very scary of you! You have a parrot!” 

The fake parrot glued to Beth’s shoulder waggles. 

“His name is Sherbet.” 

“Wow.” Eddie gives her a hug, his eyes blowing wide over her shoulder. “Oh, wow! Ave, you’re a princess with wings! And Dove, meow.” He grins at Steve. “And your dad is what, Frankenstein’s monster? A zombie?”

“Dad doesn’t have a costume,” Beth says happily. 

“Are you sure?” 

Steve encourages Dove over the threshold, four wrapped plates of sandwiches and finger foods balanced in the other hand. “That’s not funny. What are you supposed to be, anyways?” 

“I’m a vampire, duh.” Eddie slips a pair of fake fangs into his teeth. “I vant to suck your blood!” 

“Ew, Uncle Eddie,” you say. 

“Don’t think you’ve escaped me, second favourite Harrington,” Eddie says, frowning as you slip around him. “You owe me a hug.” 

“Creep,” Steve says. 

“With pride.” Eddie takes the plates from his arms and somehow, the Harrington troupe makes it safely indoors, no further costume parts fallen nor lost. 

There are more people here than Steve expected, Eddie’s friends, their kids, even Eddie’s elusive boyfriend sits out in the open. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Dove asks him with a grin. 

He turns his head to show a painted bite mark on his neck. “Victim.” 

“He’s a dead guy,” Eddie tells her, helping her where she’s struggling to sit in one of the barstools. “Alright, babe, dad said last year we partied too hard, so here are the ground rules. No pixie sticks, no soda, and no climbing on the kitchen counters. If you follow these rules, I am being allowed to give you a Hershey bar the size of your dad’s massive head. Deal?” 

“How big?” Dove questions suspiciously. 

Eddie goes to the cabinet. Inside, there’s more candy bars than one person should ever have purchased in one go. He pulls out a huge one and holds it nexts to Steve’s head, laughing when Steve bats it away. “Huge.” 

“Dad, dad, can I go play with Milly and Joe?” Avery asks. 

Steve was hoping she would. “Sure, baby. Good manners, okay?” 

Avery whizzes off to find Gareth’s kids. Beth stays by Steve’s side and he forces himself to believe that it’s him she wants to be with, not Eddie. “You don’t wanna go play?” Steve asks her. 

“Not yet.” 

You appear again where you’d been missing with Robin in tow. Steve grins at the sight of her, though he’d spoken to her on the phone last night, and seen her the day before at home. “Buckley!” 

She’s wearing a black dress with a belt and her hair is teased into a short cloud. “You aren’t wearing your costume?” 

Steve moves Beth around unthinkingly. “Yeah, it still smelled like vomit. Wren had too much yoghurt. Rob, you really look like Madonna. Your makeup is–”

“It’s trippy, right?” Eddie asks. 

“Mora did it. It’s like, face sculpting.” 

“It’s weird.” 

“I like it,” you say, Wren on your hip giving an agreeable gurgle. “I like your real face more, but this is cool.”

“And where’s your costume?” Eddie asks. 

You frown down at your nice dress. “You can’t tell?” 

Eddie falls for the trip in your voice and attempts to backtrack, only realising that you’re kidding when Steve laughs. 

“The baby got sick on both of us,” you say, turning Wren so everyone in the kitchen can see her face. “But that’s okay. She’s so cute, she’s forgiven. Aren’t you, gorgeous? You didn’t mean to eat all that yoghurt, daddy just kept feeding you.” 

Steve holds his hands up in surrender. “I feed her every day, I know how much yoghurt she can handle.” 

“Clearly not,” you croon, shooting him a loving smile. “You did save us from those awful costumes, though.” 

“Oh, worry not,” Eddie says, “I figured something like this would happen, and I’ve prepared.” 

Awesome, Steve thinks, groaning as Eddie takes his wrist into his hand and begins to pull on him. Knowing Eddie, Steve’s end up dressed as a demon with giant horns, or a fairy. 

The reality is much, much worse. 

“Hey, look at that! It still fits!” Robin laughs. 

Steve looks down at his little sailor’s uniform and sighs. “Barely,” he says. 

“Say the slogan!” you demand. 

If it were anyone else, Steve would refuse, but you’re sitting at the breakfast bar with Wren tucked under your chin, so he takes a deep breath and straightens his white hat. “Ahoy ladies,” he sighs. “Would you like to… uh, set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain, I’m…” —his voice drags reluctantly— “I’m Steve Harrington.”

[achilles-rage]

Return the Favour

summary: after buck saves reader when her apartment building goes up in flames, they run into each other at a bar. buck's on an awful first date, and reader decides to help him get out of it.

word count: 5.6k

request: I was wondering if i could request a story about Evan Buckley saving a plus size reader for like a fire or some dangerous situation and they're both attracted to each other but neither of them acts on. A few weeks later or so Buck is actually saved by reader while he's on a bad date he's trying to get out of and (like she makes up an excuse for him or plays along with something he says) and he ends up asking her out.

A/N: i'm sorry this took so long but it's finally out and i may have gotten carried away! this was my first buck request, and it was really fun! and i'm so used to writing good luck charm now that i had to search "evan" and change them all to "buck" at the end LOL also i threw in some abby shade, can you find it?? hehe. anyway, enjoy <3

warnings: reader is caught in a fire, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You wake up in the middle of the night to the fire alarm in your building echoing off the walls of your apartment. You’re immediately disoriented, as the booming sound makes your ears ring and your head spin. You jump out of bed and make your way out to your living room, and your breath catches in your throat when you see the smoke quickly filling the room. You make your way to your front door, but jump back in pain as the flat surface burns the back of your hand.

Dread fills your belly as you look around the room frantically. You see your cat cowering under your kitchen table, and you quickly run to grab her before she hides under anything where you won’t be able to reach her. You grab her and she lets out a loud meow, but you keep her squirmy body in your arms as you make your way to your window.

You’re four storeys up, and your landlord has still not fixed your fire escape, although you’ve been asking for months. Either way, you throw open your window, hoping to get some fresh air as smoke fills your lungs and burns your throat. 

You run to your room and grab your phone, quickly dialing 9-1-1 as tears form in your eyes.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks.

“3246 Weston St. My apartment building’s on fire.” you tell her frantically, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you struggle to get onto the fire escape with your cat still in your arms.

“Yes, we know about that. I see fire escapes on the outside of the building. Can you get down?” she asks you calmly, and you feel an odd sense of calm fill your body as her voice fills your ears.

“It’s broken, there’s no ladder. My landlord won’t fix it.” you tell her softly, squeezing your cat to your chest as more tears start to fall.

“What’s your name?” You answer her, sniffling softly.

“Hi, I’m Maddie. We’re gonna get through this together, okay? There’s already firefighter’s on the scene. Can you tell me what side of the building you’re on?” You shake your head, but then reply quickly, knowing she can’t see you.

“I don’t see any. I’m on the back side of the building, on the fire escape. On the fourth floor.” She mumbles an “okay” as she types on her computer. 

“Alright, I’m sending a team over to you, they’ll be right there. Is it just you in your apartment?”

“Just me and my cat.” you mumble, feeling a little silly at your response. The smoke is starting to waft out onto the fire escape, and it makes you cough loudly.

“I’m gonna stay right here with you, okay? We’re gonna get you down. The firefighters should be there now. Do you see them?” You wait for a moment as you look down at the ground, and your heart drops once you see the bright lights turn the corner.

“I see them.” you whisper, holding your cat tighter as the sirens spook her. You barely even hear Maddie’s response as your heart hammers in your chest. You make your way to the railing of the fire escape, watching as the aerial ladder is extended up to you.

You let out a sigh of relief once two very attractive firefighters are almost up to you on the ladder. You can’t help the embarrassment filling your body as you look down at your oversized shirt, with no bra, just long enough to cover your short spandex shorts, but you’re too happy to finally get off of your fire escape that you don’t care. 

“Eddie, you get the cat, I’ll get her.” one of them speaks, and the other one, Eddie, nods as he holds out his arms towards you.

You let out a soft sigh before you hand your cat to him, watching nervously as he starts making his way down the ladder with your cat twisting around in his arms. Buck takes this moment to trail his eyes down your figure, taking in your thick thighs and soft tummy. You’re absolutely gorgeous, but there’s no time for that.

“Alright, let’s get you down.” Buck tells you, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. You cross your arms instinctively as your eyes trail down the ladder. He senses your fear, and holds his hands out.

“I’m Buck. What’s your name?” he asks when you don’t make a move to the ladder. He sees the gears turning in your head as you mumble your name, and he smiles softly, rolling it around on his tongue, committing it to memory.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right behind you the whole time.” he says softly, trying to coax you out onto the ladder. Your eyes move to his hands before going back up to his face, and you nod slowly. You put your hands on the railing, ready to hoist yourself over the railing and onto the ladder.

“Alright, I’m gonna hold onto you to keep you steady. Is that okay?” he asks, and you nod as nerves fill your belly. He grabs onto your plush hips firmly as you swing one leg over the railing, and he helps guide your other leg over the ladder until your bare feet are on the ladder. 

“There you go, I got you.” he whispers once you’re pressed against him. He moves one hand off your hip and grips the railing of the ladder, then urges you to start making your way down backwards, with him going down first behind you. 

You close your eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath, then start to move once you open your eyes again. He keeps one hand on your hip the whole way down, keeping his body tense in case you slip. He tries to keep his eyes respectfully on the back of your head, but he can’t help it when his eyes trail down to your ass, just barely covered by your shorts as your shirt rides up.

“You’re doing so good. Just a few more steps.” he speaks once you’re almost to the bottom of the ladder. You smile softly at his words, despite the way your heart is pounding out of your chest. His presence calms you.

Once you’re finally down on the ground, you turn to him with a shy smile. 

“Thank you.” you say softly, looking up at him.

“Of course. You should get checked out. Make sure you didn’t inhale too much smoke.” he tells you, returning your smile. Now that he has the chance, he studies your face. If he was still the old Buck, he would ask you out, loving your sweet voice, pretty face, and gorgeous body. But he doesn’t date people he meets on the job anymore, and he’s cursing himself for that rule right about now.

You let him take you over to the ambulance, and you’re surprised when he stays there with you. The fire is for the most part out, as a few other stations were also called, so he doesn’t feel bad staying with you. He stands in front of you as Hen checks you out, taking your cat from Eddie while he waits.

He can’t help but strike up a conversation as he pets your cat, desperate to know more about you. He asks where you’re from, and what you do, and even manages to ask if you’re single. He doesn’t flat out ask that question, but after asking about your apartment, he learns that you don’t often have people spending the night, and he’s relieved.

You learn more about him too. You learn that his sister is the operator that you spoke to on the phone, and that he’s from Pennsylvania. He tells you a little about his travels before he landed in LA, but there’s not much time to go into detail, as Hen finishes looking you over quickly.

He hands you back your cat, and your hands brush each other’s as you take her back. You both freeze at the small contact, lingering for a moment too long.

“Well it was nice to meet you. Thanks again.” you trail off as you look up at him. You want to see him again, but you’re sure he’s just this nice with everyone while on the job.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you too. Do you have somewhere to go tonight?” His voice has a hint of concern, thinking about you having nowhere to go. He lets out a relieved sigh as he sees you nod.

“My friend lives a few blocks away. I can get an Uber over there.” you reply.

“We’ll wait with you. Don’t want you alone out here.” Your smile widens at his kindness, and you can feel your cheeks heating up at his insistence, although you’re sure it’s probably just protocol. You feel butterflies in your tummy at the idea of him wanting to stay, regardless of the reason. 

In reality, he just wants to spend more time with you. He’s on the verge of asking you out, but as your Uber pulls up, he decides he shouldn’t. Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks.

You thank him once again before you get into the Uber, also thanking Eddie and Hen quickly, who are standing back and watching you and Buck with raised brows.

Once you’re in the car and it’s finally out of sight, Hen and Eddie can’t help but laugh. Buck turns to them with furrowed brows, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“What?” he asks as he fights back a smile, still thinking about you.

“For a second I thought you were gonna invite her to go home with you.” Hen teases him, bumping her shoulder with his as they walk back towards the front of the ambulance, which is right behind the fire truck.

“I don’t date people I meet on the job anymore; you know that.” he says with a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s a shame. You two were really hitting it off.” Eddie adds onto Hen’s teasing, smirking as they all walk side by side.

“Yeah, I know.” Buck murmurs, getting slightly upset. He’s starting to regret not asking for your number; he’s already desperate to see you again. 

He’s forced to push it aside quickly, however, as he hears Bobby’s voice over the radio calling the three of them to the front of the building for triage.

A few weeks later, you’re still staying with your friend, Jordan. You’re lucky, the fire had only gotten to a small part of your apartment, and most of your things were left untouched, but you still aren’t allowed back in your apartment. You immediately told her all about the cute firefighter, of course, and she was almost as upset as you were that you didn’t try to ask him out. 

You can’t help but think about him still; he’s the most attractive guy you think you’ve ever seen, and he’s kind, and funny. Either way, you were way too nervous at the time, and he was on the job. Even if you didn’t meet while he was working, you don’t think you would’ve said anything anyway. And he hadn’t said anything either, so you try your best to forget about him.

Buck spends the next few weeks thinking about you too. He even tried a dating app or two, hoping your photo would pop up on his screen, but to no avail. He thinks about your pretty face often, but his mind also seems to wander to your soft curves, and how your thick thighs were on full display for him to take in in your shorts.

He finally agreed to go out with another girl he met on an app, deciding he should just move on rather than driving himself crazy. He knows he could ask Maddie to pull up the call log and he could get your number, but he knows that would be weird. And a little bit creepy.

He’s sitting in a small bar close to his apartment, a small, absent-minded smile on his face as he stares across the table at his date. This is the longest date he thinks he’s ever had. It was very clear as soon as his date started talking that she has no interest in actually getting to know him, the first give away being that she chose the dimly lit dive bar. While he wouldn’t necessarily say no to it, that’s not really what he’s looking for anymore. 

He’s listening to a story of when she went on vacation to Colombia when he hears a soft laugh coming from the bar. His eyes trail over and see you standing there, talking to what he assumes is two of your friends.

His throat goes dry as he takes in your figure, studying your soft curves and slightly revealing outfit. He can hardly hear the woman across from him now, studying your every move and expression.

He tears his eyes away from you after a moment and refocuses on his date, not wanting to seem rude. He keeps his eye on you out of the corner of his eye, however, ready to run after you if you leave before his date ends.

He keeps listening to his date, who has barely let him get a word in, but he looks very clearly bored. He can’t help it; he tries to reply every time she pauses, but his heart is pounding. He finally found you, and it was a complete coincidence. Like fate.

You don’t notice Buck right away; you’re so wrapped up in your little girls night out to even look around the bar. It’s not until your friend Jordan points to him, saying how hot he is, that your eyes finally land on him.

You can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face, and your eyes are trained on him for a few seconds until Jordan’s voice finally breaks through your haze.

“What?” she asks with a small laugh, and her smile fades when she sees the way you look over at her with a dazed expression

“It’s him. The firefighter.” you tell her, biting your lip as you look back over at him.

“You have to go talk to him. Before you lose him again.” Jordan tells you with a gasp as your other friend, Alyssa, asks what the hell you two are talking about.

Jordan explains to Alyssa while you think her words over. You don’t think you have it in you to go over. Maybe if you were much more drunk than you are right now, but currently, you wouldn’t be able to will your feet to move. 

“He’s on a date. I can’t just interrupt them. And what would I even say?” you argue softly once she’s finished explaining, looking over at Jordan. You chew the inside of your cheek nervously. The girl he’s with is gorgeous, and you begin to think that he was definitely just being so nice to you because he was working.

“Look at him. He looks so bored. He definitely doesn’t want to be there. Go save him.” Alyssa chimes in after she’s caught up, eyes glancing between you and him.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” you mumble, turning back to the bar and ordering a cocktail once you flag down the bartender. 

“Actually, we’ll just get 4 shots.” Alyssa says, smirking as she looks at you sideways. “You just need a shot or two in you, then you’ve gotta get over there. Before it’s too late. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t.” she tells you once the bartender walks away to get the bottle. 

You sigh, shaking your head. But before you can speak, the bartender puts the shots down on the table in front of you. Jordan immediately puts a shot in your hand and lifts it to your lips. You begrudgingly swallow it, letting in a sharp inhale as you feel it burning your throat. 

Your friends then each grab a shot and throw them back, then Alyssa grabs the last shot and holds it out to you.

“Come on, you just need some courage.” she teases, and you roll your eyes again before you take the shot. You were planning on drinking tonight anyway, and whether or not you’re going to go up to him, you figure you might as well take the shots. 

A little while later, you can feel the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’ve been swaying softly to the music as you talk to your friends, but your eyes never stray far from Buck. You always end up looking at each other at different times, so neither of you know that the other person knows of each other's presence. 

“I think now is your chance. He looks ready to kill himself.” Jordan tells you over the music, and all three of you look over at Buck’s table. He has a smile on his face, but his eyes lack any real emotion. 

You take a deep breath, and before you can even think, you let out a soft “okay.” Your friends smile widely, both taking turns to fix various parts of your appearance to make sure you look perfect. Jordan smooths down your top while Alyssa fixes your necklace, and then they both look up into your eyes.

“Go get him. Your ass looks great in those jeans, he’s gonna love it.” You feel your cheeks heating up at Alyssa’s words and you laugh softly. You can feel your hands shaking, but you quickly push your nerves aside and finally make your way over to him. He saved you once, and now it’s time for you to return the favour, although this situation is much lower stakes. 

“Oh my God, Buck! Hey!” you say once you reach his table, a large smile on your face. His eyes are on you in an instant, and he smiles widely, unable to stop his eyes trailing down to your cleavage peeking out of your top.

You open your arms, and he stands up quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist while you loop yours around his neck. 

“Do you want help getting out of this date?” you whisper in his ear, and you smirk as you feel his slight nod against your skin. “Follow my lead.”

You pull back, barely even looking at his date as you continue to speak. You’re glad he said yes, or else this would be really awkward.

“I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been?” You don’t even give him the chance to reply before you turn to the girl.

“How do you know my ex-boyfriend? He’s a handful, I’ll tell you that. Good luck.” you tell her with a smirk. You turn back to Buck and look at him with as much desire in your eyes as you can muster, not that it’s hard, and he matches your expression immediately. 

You know this will work; most girls don’t want to have to deal with a guy that’s still so close with their ex. You see the girl’s face fall slightly from the corner of your eye, and you look back to her, waiting for her answer.

“Oh, um, we don’t really know each other that well.” she replies with a small smile, and you can see the way she tenses slightly, starting to feel a little awkward.

“Lucky you.” you tell her with a soft laugh, looking back up at Buck, whose arm has found its way around your waist. Even still, he keeps his hand hovering over your skin, just close enough for no one else to notice, not wanting to make you uncomfortable just in case you came over just to be nice. 

“I’m sorry. I should let you get back to your date.” you tell her, an apologetic look on your face, although your eyes have no hint of remorse. “Oh, and Buck, are you still coming over tomorrow night? My roommate’s going out of town.” you tell him, licking your lips. He nods, in a daze. He knows you’re not being serious, but he can’t fight the images that his mind is creating. 

“Actually, it’s getting pretty late. I should probably go.” she mutters, standing up from the table and putting her purse over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll text you.” she tells Buck softly, but all three of you know she doesn’t really mean it. 

Once she’s out of sight, you turn to Buck, suddenly feeling your brain catching up to your actions. He senses your quick flip, and removes his arm from your waist, mumbling a quick “sorry.” 

“No, you’re good. I just don’t normally do stuff like this, and I’m just now realizing that. I’m sorry, maybe I had too much to drink.” you admit sheepishly, your face growing hot once again as you feel yourself rambling.

“No, I appreciate it. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about you since we met. I was gonna ask you out, but I sort of have this rule that I don’t date people I meet on the job.” he tells you, smiling down at you. He licks his lips as his eyes trace your face, studying it, memorizing it. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. He wanted to ask you out? The thought makes your stomach flip in excitement, and it causes a new wave of confidence to flow through you. 

“Well, you’re not working right now, right?” you tease him softly, a hopeful look on your face. 

“Yeah, I guess not. How about I buy you a drink?” he replies, his smile morphing to a smirk. You nod slowly, so focused on him that you don’t even think about your friends watching you from across the bar. 

You decide on something without alcohol instead once you get to the bar, not wanting to risk a hangover the next day. Your friends realize quickly that you aren’t coming back to hang out with them, and they’re happy for you. They keep an eye on you for an hour or so, but when they realize how into each other you are, they decide to leave.

You talk for hours, talking about anything and everything, until the bartender does final call, and you both realize how long you’ve been talking. 

“I guess I should get home.” you say with a sigh. Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, and you’ve drifted so close together over the last few hours that you don’t even notice his leg has settled between yours as you sit on the bar stools. You wouldn’t have to lean very far to connect your lips, you think to yourself.

“Or, you could come back to mine?” he asks with hope in his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t be asking you this; he wants to take you on a proper date first, but with the way you’re looking at him, he can’t stop the words that slip from his mouth. You bite your lip as you fight back a smile, but nod after a moment.

“Okay.” you murmur, and that’s all it takes for him to grab your hand and drag you to his jeep, but not before slamming some cash on the bar counter. You laugh as he drags you outside, amused by his eagerness. Once he gets to his jeep he pushes you against it, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss. 

A soft noise escapes the back of your throat as your back hits the door, but you happily kiss him back. Your arms make their way around his neck again and one hand lands in his hair, your fingers weaving through it. He keeps his hands on your hips, but he’s itching to touch you everywhere. 

He pulls back after a moment and opens the door, his pupils blown and his jeans getting tighter. You smile up at him and then get into the jeep, watching him dreamily as he makes his way to the driver’s side. 

He keeps his hand on your thigh the whole way home, rubbing your inner thigh with his thumb. He squeezes your flesh every now and then, smiling over at you each time, and once he pulls into his building parking lot, he’s quick to jump out of the car and jog over to your side. 

He keeps his hands on you the entire way up to his apartment, trailing up your sides, and once you walk into his apartment, he pushes you against the wall and meets your lips again in a dizzying kiss. 

He slides his tongue into your mouth, and both of your hands are clawing at each other, eager for more. His hands travel down to the back of your thighs, and he whispers “jump” against your lips. You hesitate for a moment, nervous about him lifting you up. He picks up on your hesitancy and pulls back for a moment with a smirk. He grabs the back of your thighs hard and lifts you up, pinning your back to the wall once again.

His lips are immediately back on you, kissing and nipping down your neck to your collarbone. You’re so focused on his lips on you that you barely have time to react to his strength. You’re not used to being lifted like this, and it makes desire pool between your legs. 

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you off the wall, keeping his hands under your thighs as he moves to the stairs. You look over your shoulder at where he’s heading, and your arms tighten around his neck as you laugh softly. Your head is spinning as he walks up the stairs; he lifts you up so effortlessly, and you can’t wait to see how else he puts his strength to use. 

He throws you onto his bed, staring down at you as you sit up on your elbows, chest rising and falling rapidly as lust overtakes every sense. He smirks as he takes in your body sprawled out on his bed. He looks down your body, taking in your chest, and your plush belly, and your thick thighs, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he mumbles before he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the end of the bed, making you squeal softly.

The next morning, you wake up naked in a room you don’t recognize, as you were too focused on Buck last night to notice anything around you. The events from last night flood your mind as you feel an arm firmly draped across your waist, and you can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face. 

You can hear his steady breathing from behind you, and you know he’s still asleep. It’s probably early, you think, as the hint of light coming in from the bedroom window looks like the sun hasn’t quite broken over the horizon.

You try to move his arm slowly, seeing his bathroom door connected to his bedroom. As you do, you feel his grip tighten, and he pulls you tighter against him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I just found you again, I’m not letting you go this soon.” he teases in a raspy voice, just barely above a whisper. You laugh softly and turn in his grip to face him, smiling as you take in his sleepy eyes and soft smile.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” you whisper back, as if trying not to ruin the calmness surrounding you both. He groans, and finally releases you after a moment, but not before he leans in for a soft kiss. He turns to lay on his back, folding his arms behind his head to watch you walk to the bathroom. He smirks as his eyes observe your bare figure, licking his lips.

Once you’re done in the bathroom, you go back to bed, laying on your side beside him and resting your cheek on his chest. He grabs your thigh as you drape your leg across his hips, humming softly as he feels your soft skin. 

“You want some breakfast?” he asks after a little while, giving you both some time to wake up. You raise your head and rest your chin on his chest as you look up at him, nodding. He smiles as his eyes glance across your face, admiring the way the sun is hitting your face, having finally breached the horizon. 

He then leans down to give you a soft kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to your cheek. Once he pulls away, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, reveling in his touch and warm gaze.

“What kind of breakfast?” you whisper once you open your eyes. He shrugs before he speaks, still trying not to disrupt the comfortable quiet surrounding you.

“Anything you want. Eggs, waffles. I’m pretty skilled in the kitchen.” he teases, winking. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. How is he still single? Cute, kind, smart, and a good cook? You can’t believe it.

“Do you have strawberries and blueberries?” you ask softly, smiling once he nods. “Let’s make waffles.” 

He nods at your words, sighing loudly and stretching before he sits up slowly. You move off of him and watch as he gets up and puts on some grey sweatpants, and your eyes wander down his body quickly, making him chuckle. 

You get up and find your bra and panties on his floor, putting them on quickly. You debate on putting back on your jeans and top from last night, afraid Buck’s shirt wouldn’t fit you in a cute oversized way, but you decide against it. It’s too early for jeans, and with the way he was worshiping your body last night, you don’t think he’d turn down the opportunity of watching you walking around his kitchen so exposed.

He pulls you into another kiss once you’re semi-dressed, his hands making their way to your cheeks. You smile against his lips, and bite your lip gently once you pull back, and he keeps his eyes closed for a moment. 

“Jump.” he whispers after a moment, and you oblige this time, letting him lift you in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he makes his way to the stairs.

“You really don’t have to carry me everywhere, you know.” you say with a soft laugh. You turn your head to watch where he’s going, arms tightening around his neck instinctively as he reaches the stairs.

“Nuh uh, come on. I saw your face last night. Don’t lie, you love it.” he teases you, squeezing your thighs. You shake your head and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you realize that he noticed. 

Once you get to the kitchen he sets you down on the counter, his hands lingering on your hips as he tries to memorize the sight of you, almost naked on his kitchen counter, your soft belly on full display for him. He backs away slowly as he takes one final look, then turns and starts grabbing ingredients from the pantry and fridge. 

You notice he’s making waffles from scratch, and your heart swells at the thought of him putting in so much effort. You try to tell him you can help, but he cuts you off, insisting that all he wants you to do is to “sit there and look pretty,” which makes you giggle. You can’t help feeling giddy around him; you feel like a lovesick teenager.

Once he’s finished with breakfast, you slide off the counter and make your way to the kitchen table. He brings the berries, the maple syrup, and some whipped cream over, and you both dig in.

He waits to see your reaction, and grins widely when he sees you moan softly in contentment, closing your eyes. You look over at him as he admires you, and you look down, smiling softly, not used to this kind of attention. 

“Can I take you out?” he asks you halfway through breakfast. He chuckles softly as you look up at him with a raised brow, and he reaches up to wipe a bit of whipped cream off your upper lip. 

“You already took me out.” you reply softly, licking your lips after his thumb brushes over them.

“That doesn’t count, we just happened to be there at the same time. I want to take you out for real. A nice dinner, maybe a walk or something after, get some ice cream. What do you say?” he corrects you, giving you a wink. You smile, nodding as you mumble a soft “okay.” 

Once you’re finished with breakfast, he leads you to the couch and wraps a blanket around both of you. You’re leaning against his chest and his arm is draped on the back of the couch behind you, which makes your stomach flip.

He turns on a movie, but you’re too busy talking and laughing with each other to really pay attention. As he looks down at your pretty face, his smile stays plastered to his face. He’s so glad he agreed to that God awful date, and that you were willing to help him out of it, because now that he has you, he never wants to let you go.

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[hanichani]

Of cats and men

Pairing: lee know x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: min loves his cats (and maybe he also tolerates you)

Warnings: min being a meanie but what else is new

Word count: 674

a/n: very short so I usually wouldn't name it but I thought of cats and men was so cute... yk, get it? of cats and men? like of mice and men? okay, anyways

you’re sitting on your couch with dori sleeping in your lap when the door opens. your favorite boy in the whole world walks through and starts taking his shoes off. he crouches down to say hi to his two little fur angels who immediately ran up to him to greet him. you can hear soft purring from the door and you’re not sure if it’s the cats or their owner.

“where’s your brother, hm?” he says while getting up from the cats and walking further into the apartment.

“is that all you care about? what about me?” you whine from the couch, turning your head around to look at the man who just appeared in the living room.

“hi baby.” he coos and walks closer to you.

“hi.” you say back with a smile, happy that he acknowledged you. but then he fires back.

“i was talking to dori.” he picks the cat up from your lap and plops down next to you, petting dori’s head. you stare at him with a frown on your face which he soon notices when he finally looks up from the cat.

“okay, hi to you too” he rolls his eyes, the hand that’s not petting dori reaching for your own. but you’re not satisfied with this and he can see that.

“okay fine,” he groans “hi to you too baby.”

you smile and squeeze his hand, happy that you got what you wanted.

or when it’s the middle of the night and his fur babies decide to bother you both

you were sound asleep before a paw landed on your face. opening your eyes, you saw a ginger cat nestling in the crook of your neck while the brown one was happily kneading at your face. you sighed and turned over to look at minho who was peacefully sleeping, no cats attacking his body lovingly. he looked so cute when asleep, you weren’t going to wake him for this.

“get off dori.” you grabbed the brown cat and placed it on the floor next to your bed, doing the same to soonie after. why couldn’t they be like their brother who was quietly sleeping in the corner of the room.

you thought you had won but a few minutes later the fur babies were back causing you to groan.

“leeeaaave, let me sleep.” you whined while turning to your side, causing the cats to adjust around your body.

“why don’t you leave, they’re just trying to sleep as well.” the boy next to you mumbled in his half asleep form. he pulled soonie who was closer to him to his body, cuddling with the cat. you were irritated at this point and sleeping on the couch seemed like the lesser of two evils. so, you sat up in the bed, ready to move to the living room but a hand grabbed your wrist.

“what, you wanted me to leave. im leaving.” you said, trying to get out of his hold.

but even in his sleepy form, minho managed to pull you down onto the bed. he pulled your body close, causing soonie to run away from him.

“don’t be a dummy.” he said, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms around your torso.

“i love you.” he whispered after a moment of silence. squeezing you closer to him.

when you didn’t respond, his fingers pinched the skin on your waist causing you to yelp and scare off the cats who were now running out of the bedroom.

“say it back.” he mumbled into your skin, pressing a small kiss there after.

“I thought you were talking to the cats.” you groan, your hands going to his hair to play with it.

you hear a small tsk from him and then feel another kiss on your skin.

“i love you.” you whisper back and it’s now you placing a kiss to his skin, more specifically his forehead.

great, so now you were stuck with a human sized cat wrapped around you instead.

[prismuffin]

Omg! Okay so I just thought of the cuties thing in opinion! And wanted to do an ask of it!!

So, Male Reader is a shape-shifting alien kinda like Marsion's (Ex:Mee-gan ), but they can only be in a form that is not their true form for a limited time. Like 16hrs or something, after that, they shift back to their real form, unless they are in like fight or flight mode. After the time is up their behavior is that of an autistic that is burnout or overstimulated.

The MaleReader's true form basically looks very similar to an Earth's panther (i.e big cat) expect it has 4 sets of eyes and has a pure white coat with red patterns.

So! How would Dick, Jason, Tim, Wally and Conner (sperately) react to Alien MaleReader doing the cat behavior of 'if I fits, I sits' after seeking them out to take a nap and recharge?

Ex: Jason wanting some peace reading while laying on the couch, and reader just climbs his way up the back of the couch, to carefully place himself in between Jason's side and the couch cushions.

I'm working on some full fics but as to not let my blog seem dead I'll get this ask out the way! Anyways I think that-

Dick was in the kitchen making himself some lunch. For once, he decided to sit down at the table to eat instead of going to his room. He was sort of surprised to see you in your true form creeping your way over to him. He, at first, thought you wanted some of his food which he was not gonna give to you but instead you simply shrunk down underneath his chair. Squeezing yourself through the legs of the seat and resting your head on his foot. He was confused but just let it happen, sighing as he realized he was stuck with the cat curse and now he cant move because you're laying on him.

Jason would be sitting on the couch, finally glad to find a rare moment of quiet. He was simply relaxing until you came in, you were in your true form so he didn't think you'd be too much of a distraction. But he was wrong when you walked up to him and practically draped yourself across his lap, resting your head on a nearby pillow. You exhaled deeply and just closed your eyes, joining him in his relaxation session. He looked around at the rest of empty spaces on the couch before looking back at you, shaking his head with a slight smirk he just let you lay on him since you were warm.

Tim would probably be working, mumbling to himself about god knows what when you'd walked into his lab. He turned when he'd heard his door open and greeted you as he saw you enter, asking if you needed anything. You didn't answer and simply walked up to him, rubbing yourself against his legs with your tail held high before diving between his legs. Because of your size he had to steady himself as to not fall over. He let out a surprised gasp before trying to push you out but you wouldn't budge. When he did successfully get you out from underneath him you just followed him and did it again and again. If this was your way of getting him to stop overworking himself so much it is kind of working.

Wally had recently gotten a new package and boy was he happy, besides the fact that he had to assemble it himself. So he sat on the floor of his room trying to put together a gaming chair, screwing together two parts that look like they definitely shouldn't fit that way but that's besides the point. You'd entered his room and he'd given you a quick greeting before going back to building his chair. He'd heard some shuffling from where you were and turned to ask what you were doing only to see you fitting yourself within the large box that his chair had come in. You'd successfully smushed yourself down enough to fit perfectly in the box and he couldn't help but laugh at the sight. He took a picture, ignoring the soft glare you were giving him.

Conner would be resting and taking some time for himself not really doing much sadly. It was a rather boring day so he just sat himself on the couch, submitting to the mindless entertainment that the tv offers. Sooner or later you walked into the common room, spotting the kryptonian you moved over to him before shoving yourself under his legs. He was confused at first and asked what you were doing but didn't get much of a response besides a semi-sassy look as you just laid down and closed your eyes. He didn't move as your presence simply added to the comforting feeling of the couch especially since you were practically a warm footrest for him.

———

Directory

[supesoup]

noir + size kink

sorry for disappearing! 2.4k words, main warning is in the title, same reader as always, little to no body descriptions, reader has a cat! a TINY tiny amount of dubcon + slight somno at the end, overstimulation, a little bit of edging, i'm using canon noir for this because he's 6'3, make him taller in your brain if you want :) no labels for their relationship

there was a random youtube video playing for background noise while you finished with your skincare. bambi, your cat, walked into the bathroom, meowing and turning her head towards the door. you looked up and didn't see anything in your room.

you decided on just setting out some strawberries and water for her, fixing her bows, and squishing her cheeks before getting back up and finishing with your 'routine', if it could be called that. after turning off the lights, you went to the kitchen to get some water when something brushed your shoulder.

you quickly turned on your phone and pointed the screen at the person's face, breathing out a small sigh of relief when you saw the mask.

"just you," you paused, looking past noir. "do you want anything to drink? i was about to go to sleep-" before your face was being pushed into his chest in some weird attempt at a hug.

you felt your face heat up a bit at the way his shoulders bracketed you, his hands feeling heavy on your ribs as you eventually tried to reach your arms up to hug him back.

"good evening to you too," tiredly, and a bit too loud in your now less empty apartment. you felt something being traced onto your back.

'CAN I STAY' followed by a happy face and a question mark.

it was hard to tell whether or not he could feel you smiling against his shoulder, where you'd moved to and began nuzzling at. noir's hands squeezed a bit tighter, moving to where yours were splayed over his arms and rubbing at your wrists.

'ANGEL', letters traced right over one another into the back of your hand. you began tugging at him, eventually freeing yourself enough to trace a 'yes' into his neck and turn your head towards your room.

noir lifted you, fingers nearly squeezing bruises into the fat on your hips. he set down a towel and turned everything but your lamp off once he reached your bed, setting you down gently and rubbing his hands along the outside of your thighs.

his hands nearly, if not completely, covered the sides of your thighs, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the thought processed, albeit sluggishly. you felt him begin to press kisses into your stomach and hips through his balaclava.

you could just make out noir's shape in your (darker than usual) room, and clumsily reached for your phone. 2:10 am. you flung it somewhere onto your bed and pushed at his broad shoulders from where they were pressing your thighs apart. you didn't know what you were trying to tell him.

you felt him look up and slide a finger along the top of your shorts before waiting. when you just panted instead of answering, noir reached up, stroking along the lines of the muscles in your arm before tracing out, 'CAN I CONTINUE'.

"yeah-" breathlessly, and your voice came out a bit too quiet this time. noir then lifted you, his large hands reaching across your sides with ease, and gently pushed your shorts down and off. you heard fabric rustling a bit to your right before you squeaked as you felt him press his lips just above your cunt.

'BREATHE', traced into your left hip, and he started by gently rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb, the fabric covering you dampening the feeling. you reached down and let your nails scratch into the fabric covering the back of noir's neck.

you whined as you felt noir lift up a bit, looking around to check if the room was as dark as he wanted it before descending again. you reached for him, and he interlocked the fingers of one of his hands with yours, dwarfing yours. he pushed the fabric of his mask up, bringing his hand back between your legs before beginning to nip at your inner thighs.

you felt a throb in your clit at the way his stubble scraped against your thighs. your legs began to close around his head, and he moved his hand away from your cunt to press them back apart. you were so spread out it nearly hurt.

noir shivered a bit at feeling how much bigger he was than you, biting a bit harder and kissing at the mark that started forming before he pushed your panties to the side and dragged a finger through the wetness that began to drip from you.

you saw the glint of his teeth as he smiled, seeing the way your hips canted up when he'd drag his hand away. noir did this a few more times before laving his tongue through your folds, lingering on your clit before moving away again. a quiet sob clawed its way through your chest and up into your throat before you could stop it.

the sound of his codpiece hurriedly coming off and being thrown to the side rang through the room before noir put his mouth back on you, his lips being able to cover your cunt with no difficulty. you heard his gasps as he stroked himself over his tactical pants a few times to take the edge off before bringing his fingers back up to press into you.

your face flushed even more at how easily you took noir's fingers in. he filled you up easily, having forgotten how big his hands were for a few minutes. tears welled up in your eyes once he mouthed 'wet' into your clit before starting to suck at it, not giving you any reprieve from the feeling. you mewled once he reached a specific place inside you and curled his fingers.

"noir-" strained and wobbly, but audible, and he grabbed one of your pillows and brought it between his legs as he pressed his mouth harder into you. you heard the bed creak and looked back down at him, seeing noir grinding against it while he let out a quiet moan at the feeling.

you brought both your hands to where his neck met his shoulders and dug your nails in, trying to gather your thoughts for the couple of seconds that noir had his face pressed to your thigh before he moved back down. you were going to get beard burn, you thought to yourself before he started pressing into your gspot again.

your orgasm started making itself known in the area right between your hips, where noir was grabbing at you before moving his hand to press into the area underneath your stomach. your thighs started to shake when noir gasped and moaned into you as his hips bucked. you pressed your nails into him harder, and he tossed your pillow to the side.

he added another finger and drew his tongue across your clit slowly, pushing harder and harder until you were whining with how sensitive you were getting. noir pulled off when your gasps started sounding wet, and moved up to lick the tears off your face. he rubbed his hand slowly over your stomach and thighs, nearly silently going 'shh' into your ear until you went quiet. your hips were burning from how much you had to spread your legs to get him close to you like this.

noir worked his way back down, pushing your shirt up and licking over your tits for a little before kissing down to where he was bullying your pussy open. he dug his hand into the muscle of your thigh, leaving a handprint that nearly covered the entire front of the upper part of it before pushing three fingers back into you.

you could vaguely make out the way he pressed his thighs together at the sounds you'd started making, and his fingers found that spot inside you quickly. noir fit his mouth back over your clit and sucked hard, almost like making you cum in his mouth was punishment for something.

in your mind, loose around the edges as it was, you forgot noir was capable of killing you without moving from his spot on the bed. you grabbed him by the back of his head and ground against his mouth, whimpering at the feeling of his stubble scratching at you.

he gave a surprised moan, and that's all it took for you to gush around his fingers. your hand shot up to press against your mouth, muffling your moans from how hard you were cumming before you felt a much larger hand wrap around yours and drag it away from you, leaving you to sob into the space of your room.

noir had a hand around the base of his cock, squeezing to prevent himself from cumming in his pants with how you felt, sounded, tasted in his mouth. he pulled off, panting over you before moving up to kiss you, crowding you where you were laying on your comforter.

he moaned a little where he began mouthing at your jaw, hand bringing yours to wrap around his cock. noir stuttered when he felt you, gathering your thigh closer to him where he was grinding against it. you pushed the fabric of his pants down just enough to free him.

"inside," you said into his ear, letting him put you into a mating press before you felt something being traced into the area below your collarbone.

'NOT GOING TO LAST', and then he whimpered when you notched his head into your folds, letting him grind against your clit.

"'s fine, you old man," and you felt his face heat up where he was pressing it into your neck. you pressed your lips to noir's temple, over his mask, reaching around and tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck before pushing his cock down to your entrance.

both of you gasped as he sank into you, him at the wetness and feeling of you around him, and you at the stretch. you sunk your teeth into his shoulder when he canted his hips closer to you, making failed attempts at swallowing down his moans.

you felt the word 'fuck' mouthed into the top of your head. he'd nearly encased you with the rest of his frame, looming over you with his thighs bracketing your hips. you were pulsing around him, occasionally squeezing to try to get used to his size, while noir attempted to press his thighs together from where they were surrounding you.

noir grabbed at your waist, hands shaky but still gripping hard enough to bruise, and started grinding into you, gasping. you let out a mewl as he nudged your gspot, and attempted to think.

you grabbed one of his hands, moving it up so you could suck at his fingers before moving your other hand down to rub at your clit. noir looked down and moved your hand out of the way, gently rubbing at the scratches he'd left on your thighs from his grip before placing two of his fingers on you.

you slung your now free hand over noir's shoulder, holding onto him tightly as he started thrusting into you. whenever he bottomed out, you'd grind against his pelvis, feeling another orgasm start building inside of you, and quickly.

noir gasped at the feeling of you inadvertently tightening around him, bucking his hips before resuming his motions, bending down to mouth at your neck. you felt his thighs squeezing around you again, cock kicking where he was bullying it into you.

he panted and whined slightly where his mouth was pressing against you, rubbing harder at your clit. he tried and failed to mouth any more words into your skin, settling for licking and biting at you instead. you let go of the hand he had placed at your mouth, grabbing at the breadth of his shoulders and not knowing whether to push him away or pull him in closer.

you whined urgently as you felt yourself get closer and closer, gasping out noir's name into the armor covering his clavicle. he bit down even harder, whimpering a bit when he felt your grip on him tighten.

you came around him when he moved his fingers out of your mouth and placed them around your neck, biting your lip so hard you drew blood as you felt him sink fully into you, shaking where he was trying not to cum while grinding himself into your clit.

some desperation-addled, dark part of his brain delighted in the feeling of you pushing at his shoulders, whines of 'please', 'cum', and 'sensitive' tumbling quietly from your mouth, all while you were still cumming. noir felt his balls draw up where they were pressed against you, moaning when he felt your nails digging into his skin where his mask had been pushed up.

noir drew back and pounded into you once, twice, and then stuttered where he tried to grind into you a third time as his cum started to pour into you. he reached a hand under you, scratching at your back and whining into your hair as he felt you clench around him and sob again. he drew you into the space between his hips a few more times, his legs shaking.

noir moaned again when your hips bucked from the overstimulation. his hand had been rubbing at your clit the entire time. he continued grinding into you until his cock was throbbing, trying to let out more of his cum even when he'd filled you so much you were leaking onto the towel he'd put down.

both of you whimpered as he pulled out of you, running his hands along your sides and kissing at your forehead. you pointed to your nightstand, and noir used some of the wipes you had there so that you two didn't feel completely gross before he laid down next to you.

noir gently moved you and pressed you up against his chest, dragging a hand along your sides and waiting for your breathing to slow down. he traced petnames into your skin, 'angel', 'bunny', 'baby', 'pretty', and more. he slung his arms over your torso, engulfing you once again like he'd done in your kitchen.

once noir saw your eyes begin to flutter shut, he began to mouth at your neck again. he then let his fingers slip back against your clit, hushing you gently when the feeling made you start to stir.

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Happy Monday Everyone! So I have a new series for you that I will be dropping either one chapter a week or multiple chapters this week, I am still deciding.

This series came way of a message/ask from @hobby27 she asked:

"I would love something with Jensen and reader. He sees her when he’s at a convention and he’s bonkers for her. She isn’t so interested in a relationship with him because of the fame. So he has to woo her. Make her understand that he’s not a typical movie/tv star. Slow burn."

So I give you the Limelight series- It's a Jensen x reader (plus size, curvy girl) story, Jensen meets the reader in a bar, he falls fist, she is reluctant of course, but secretly she fell for him the second he walked through the door. So can a small town girl and a celebrity make it work?

Warnings for the whole series: language, multi-pov and switching between the pov mid chapters (sorry I can't help it), Jensen coming off aggressive for a hot second but then cooling off. Some douche side characters and some lovable ones, body shaming, angst, fluff, swoon, Jared is there and Micha is mention.

This story takes place an AU where Jensen is not married but Jared is and has kids.

This chapter is 2K+. Feedback, likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Please don't post as your own work, this is my work.

Thanks!

Chapter 1

You weren't sure what possessed you to come out tonight. The city is a small lakeside tourist trap in the height of summer. It's Friday night, so it's already going to be busy. Add the fact that the first-ever Supernatural convention is taking place in a town over, and there are rumors that some cast members might appear in small-town Haven. Has every woman, single or not, out looking to catch the eye of Jared Padalecki or Jensen Ackles.

You, on the other hand, couldn't care less. That's not to say you didn't think both men weren't great actors. You're the first to put your 'Supernatural number one fan card' against anyone. You watched the show religiously, even re-watched it whenever you needed comfort or a break from the world.  You had also fallen into reading and writing a few fanfics under a pen name. 

You also weren't immune to their handsome good looks; both are sexy men in their own right. You lean more towards Jensen than Jared if you had to choose. Something about those hypnotic green eyes  and the 'Dean voice.' God, that got you through some lonely nights, for sure.

So why aren't you going boy-crazy at the fact that your celebrity crush was just one city over, or for that matter, could be in the same bar as you right now? One, you are a realist: the likelihood of him coming out, or you actually seeing him, is slim, if not nonexistent. Second, the idea of celebrity life - living in the limelight, having all eyes on you, never getting a moment to yourself - no thank you. You will take being an anonymous nobody and being able to look and act however you want without ending up on the front page of the gossip rags.

Pushing your way through the crowd of the local dive bar, you survey the crowd to see the overabundance of female to men ratio. You finally squeeze past and grab the last open barstool at the corner, next to where the wait staff come to grab their orders. Saying hi to the waitress as she loads up her tray, you take a seat and wave over at the bartender. 

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." The bartender, James, gives you a smile and wink.

Stuffing the bar towel in his back pocket, he walks to you and tosses a cardboard coaster. "Didn't think you would be one of those desperate celebrity chasers." He jokes.

He places his hands on the bar and leans towards you. His lean, muscular frame is accented by his dark denim jeans and black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off the nice tan he's been working on.

Shaking your head at him, "Now, James, I wouldn't knock your guest too loud; God knows you're not mad at the extra business…or the female clientele." You quip, picking up the coaster to fiddle with. 

You survey the room and guess it's a two to five-ratio of guys to girls in the bar tonight. "Besides, I wanted a drink." Letting out a sigh, you try to convince yourself that's why.

Not buying it, but not having the heart to call you out on your bullshit this early in the night, James gives you a nod, "OK, sure, so the usual?" He asks as he grabs the tequila to make you a margarita.

"You know my weakness."

"That I do."

Later that night

You felt good and relaxed over an hour in and two margaritas down. The day's stress dissipates, and you're glad you came out. Besides chatting with James every time he had a few minutes, you also got to reconnect with some of the other bar staff you hadn't seen. 

The crowd has started to thin out, with news that the cast members were staying in the city to party. Sightings of them all over at the more trendy bars had the sober guests heading out and the not-so-sober ones heading home. James let the last waitress clock out early, leaving only you and James. James made his way back over to you.

"So, you're still here. Thought you would have hightailed it to the city by now." He jokes, running a hand through his dark, short locks. His blue eyes locked with yours.

"I told you, I just came out for a drink, not to hunt down a celebrity. Besides, we never get to hang out anymore.  Why is that?" you question, pushing your empty glass toward James in a not-so-subtle attempt to have him refill it. 

He takes the hint.  Grabbing the glass, he slightly laughs at this, "Come on, Y/N, we see each other. I mean, yeah, not as much anymore, what with me taking over this place and you working in the city more on your art. How is that going? Are you happy with your decision?" He asks, saying so much with those questions. He finishes up your drink and sets it down.

You were happy with your choice; it was for the best. Even if it meant you gave up half of the bar and steady income so you could pursue your passion. You're about to answer him when the sound of the front doors opens. Looking over, you can't believe your eyes when you see, fucking Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki walk through the doors. 

You snap your head back after staring at them both for what seems like forever. Fuck, they both look even better in person.

"No fucking way!" James almost screams out. You look up at him to see he is nearly hyperventilating.

"OK, James, you got to calm down." You counsel, slightly put off by him freaking out when he, on multiple occasions, would tease you for liking the show. Watching him flap his hands and pull out the bar rag to wipe the sweat from his forehead as his cheeks red. 

You had to call him on this. "Are you a fan?"

He looks over to you, sees the twinkling of mischief behind your eyes, and sighs, "OK, fine, yes." He quips back in defeat that his big secret is out.

"I watched the show, and so did you." He tries to defend himself.

"Yeah, and I was open about it. You were the one that made fun of me every time I talked about it. Bitch."

"Jerk." James quips back out of reflex, which gets you to point at him.

"Hey, can we get a pitcher of whatever the house draft is?" Deep and smooth, his voice hits you like a freight train, pulling James and you out of your impending tiff and back to reality. A reality where Jensen Ackles is standing ten feet away from you, on the other side of the bar, wanting to get a pitcher of beer. 

He is standing there in well-fitted light-wash jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. Sunglasses hang off the v-neckline and a baseball cap tuck in his back pocket. Your eyes lock with his, and the rumors are true—they are green like a fairy princess.

You look away and see Jared sitting with two other guys at a table. They are not actors from the show; they must be friends or bodyguards. 

"Umm…Yeah, man, coming right up. Just the one?" James stammers as he reaches the well to pull the pitcher. 

"Umm…better make it two, Jared's a big guy and all." Jensen jokes. Pulling his eyes from you to the bartender.

"Umm…you got a kitchen back there?" He questions, trying to keep the small talk up so he can stay here for a few more minutes. There is something about you; he can't place it, but it's like he's drawn to you. 

"Yeah, but our cook bailed on me tonight," James replies. Setting the pitchers on the bar. Scrabbling when he sees Jensen's slight disappointment in the lack of food.

"But I am sure Y/N wouldn't mind going back there and whipping up something." Turning his attention to you and giving you a shit-eating grin.

Your head snaps up to look over at James and Jensen. "What?" You question, wondering why he dragged you into this.

"Yeah, she's an excellent cook, chef really, she actually…"

"I am sure my cooking wouldn't match your sophisticated palate." Cutting off James before he can give Jensen your life story, giving him a stare down that conveys 'shut the fuck up.'

James has a habit of making your accomplishments sound grander than they were. He takes up the role of a proud parent, which you never ask him to do. 

Y/N, hmm, beautiful name. Letting the name roll around in his head. Jensen takes this opportunity with your eyes, shooting daggers at the bartender to let his eyes take you all in. She is in light-wash jeans, tall black boots, and a leather jacket over a vintage concert t-shirt that hugs her curves in all the right places. She's giving off a 'don't fuck with me vibe,' but he can tell it's just a front.  

"Darling, don't let celebrity status fool you. We're just a group of guys out for a few drinks and looking for good local food." Giving a smile to seal the deal.

His voice pulls her attention back to him, and he can see the front crumble away, her cheeks tinting pink.

"Jared there will eat just about anything you put before him." He says, thumbing back towards the guys. 

You look over his shoulder to see Jared and the two other guys watching your interaction. Jared gives you a half smile.

"Jensen, stop harassing the girl already. I can't take this guy anywhere." He jokes and turns his attention back to his buddies.  

Getting up from the barstool, you put some money on the bar, "I should be going, night James." Keep your voice low and as even as possible.

You can feel yourself becoming embarrassed by the seconds with all the attention on you. Unfortunately, you must walk past Jensen and his friends' table to get to the door. As you walk past the table, one of the anonymous guys pipes up.

"Seriously, I am starving. Why did we even come out this way? Dumb bitch, not like she doesn't know her way around a kitchen, just look at her." He spits out. 

You know you should keep walking; it's not like you haven't heard your fair share of fat jokes and comments about you before. Especially from drunk, pretty boys. Something about this time, though.  Maybe it's because it's in front of your celebrity crushes. After all, you have a few drinks in you as well. Whatever it is, you turn on your heels so you can face the douchebag.

"Oh, real original, ass. God, you must be the brains of the group." You spat back. Placing your hands on your hips to really show off your frame. 

He doesn't say anything at first. He is your typical frat boy, with short blonde hair and brown eyes staring back at you. You can see the wheels turning in his head. The other anonymous guy sitting next to him is a carbon copy of him, but he is looking across the booth to Jared for some kind of help.

"Dude, Evan, come on," Jared says, giving him a look of dismay that he just said those things. Turning his attention to you, "I am sorry…" He starts to apologize to him.

You hold up your hand to stop him. "It's fine, really." You reply, giving him a half smile. You're tired, and dragging this out any longer is not something you want to do tonight.

"Yeah, Jared, it's fine. A bitch like that, this is probably the most attention she has had from a guy in a long time." Evan jokes and playfully punches the guy next to him, wanting some backup on his 'stellar' dig at the local girl. 

Turning away from them, shocked that he is still talking, you just want to escape. Your eyes lock with Jensen, but his attention is on the table. He's fuming and looks like he is about to punch Evan. He starts the short walk towards the table.

"What the fuck…" he yells.

Stepping in his path, he stops just inches from you when you put your hand on his chest. The feel of your hand on him, you standing right before him, snaps him back.

"Well, we wouldn't want you boys to starve now, would we?" You say sweetly. Your voice is low and even. Knowing that you need to diffuse this situation before a bar brawl breaks out and somehow the gossip rags hear about it. 

The feel of his shirt under your fingers as you lightly tap his chest is soft. You would give anything to stay like this for a bit longer, taking in his smell of whiskey and leather. That's the one thing the fanfic girls and guys got right. Maybe they got other things right, too, your mind wonders.

You give Jensen a smile and turn to face the table. "Do you guys have any allergies I need to know about?" Your question, "Don't need to have anyone go into anaphylactic shock and have the media all up in my ass."

The two unknowns say nothing and seem interested in the countertop, then looking up at you. You don't blame them. Seeing the fury that Jensen was in, you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that.

Jared also looks pissed at them, glaring at them both before replying. "No, I think we're all good."

Giving a short nod, you turn back, seeing Jensen's eyes lock on you now. He has calmed down a bit, but he also looks slightly disappointed. You cock your head to the side.

"Hey, you OK?" You question, your voice low, only for him to hear.

He takes a second, giving you a nod. He clears his throat. "Yeah, umm…I am sorry…" he starts apologizing, but you stop him. 

"It's fine, Jensen. If you haven't noticed, I am a big girl in multiple ways." You wink at him and pat his chest before side-stepping him and heading back towards the kitchen.  

Back to the bar, you shuck off your jacket and toss it to James. "Good because, honestly, I don't care." You quip back to let them all know you could give a rat's ass what their dietary needs were.

This gets a laugh out of Jensen, pulling him back into a better head space. He can see more of her; the short-sleeved gray t-shirt contrasts sharply with her deep purple hair. Letting his eyes roam over her beautiful curves, god, he wishes he was the only one that came out tonight. She is feisty and can hold her own. Her voice is heaven, and he wants to listen to her talk all night.

"I'll have some food right out." Saying over your shoulder as you push open the kitchen doors. 

To Be Continued.....

[delopsia]

Wolfish | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf! Bob, implied werewolf hunter! Reader, unprotected sex, Bob has an undiagnosed praise kink, brief over-stimulation, size kink if you squint, sex against a wall, werewolves doing...werewolf things. Brief Summary: You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today. My late entry for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month!

Your back slams against the locker doors. Metal clatters so loud that it echoes. Bouncing off the walls, rattling around inside of empty crevices, and squeezing through the crack in the door. Had ought to rumble its way across the building, down the street, and right into the unwitting ears of your team. Freshly deployed. Chasing the false scent of the very man between your legs. 

Sure wonder what they would think if they walked in and saw this.

The obscene pressure of a werewolf's hard cock, straining against his sweats, pressing deliciously against your fluttering cunt. Your legs coiling impossibly tighter around his bony waist, sharp hip bones digging into the plush fat of your thighs, fingers trailing up the back of his neck, across short-clipped hair, to tangle in the longer strands at the top. 

His warm nose bumps against your cheek. Blindly guiding himself back to your mouth, sloppy and lazy, little wet noises punctuating every motion, razor-sharp canines nipping at your bottom lip. Such an otherworldly sensation that has your head spinning so fast you fear you'll fall, arms tightening around his shoulders.

"Four times has gotta be some kind of record," Bob's tone rumbles through you like thunder, shaking your bones like fragile leaves in the wind. The cold rims of his glasses bump into you as he draws away, darkened eyes drinking you up like a glass of water in the middle of a sweltering desert.

Your head falls back against the locker, sucking in a breath. "Maybe for you," squirming. Grinding down into the bulge of his cock, absolutely and unequivocally unashamed of putting on a show for him. 

"Keep telling yourself that," stupid wolf with his stupid, dumb head tilt. You can almost picture the puppy ears flopping over, begging for a good scratch. Part of you wonders if his leg would twitch if you found the right spot.

But you certainly don't mean to actually let your fingers slide from his hair and behind his ear. Blunt nails scratching at the skin there, blessed by the sound of his soft inhale. Eyelashes flutter. A boot kicks the floor. Defiantly holding himself together. 

Those sharp teeth glint in the moonlight as his mouth opens. "Gonna be in so much trouble if they catch us."

Funny, you very nearly forgot about them already. Jake, Bradley, Nat. All chasing down a scent you massaged into the fur of a semi-feral feline last night. They'll find the little calico here soon. Jake and Bradley will start arguing over who's in the right; Nat will get fed up and call for backup. If there's anything you know about Javy, it's that he'll be up and have the cat found before the spat is settled.

You only have so much time before they return, badgering you about another bad scent. Even less time to get this wild-eyed werewolf in you. Devilish, you draw yourself closer to him. Nose to nose. Legs so tight around him that your bones ache. "What, not keen on telling a group of werewolf hunters you're a—fuck,"  it hasn't even been that long since the last time you felt his cock twitch into you. There's no reason it should have you getting wet like this. "Werewolf?"

He stumbles forward. Knocking you into the lockers again. Big hands squeezing greedy handfuls of your ass. "Call me a prude, but I ain't much for being hunted, honeycomb." 

On their own, his hips roll forward. Impossibly strong arms working double time to draw you into it. And you're so, so certain that there's a wet spot staining your shorts right now. A sick mixture of your own wetness and his cum dripping out of your abused cunt, damn near sore from how many times he's filled you up today.

And yet, it's still not enough. "You really think they'd hurt you?" Your voice almost strained. Weary hand reaching between your heated bodies. Sliding those flimsy shorts out of the way, relishing in the hitch of his breath, all over the sight of your pussy.

"I don't wanna find out," he grunts, and for a second, you think he's gonna drool.

Your index finger slips between your folds. Gathering up your wetness, skin glistening with it, as your hand rises to his mouth. You don't need to ask for him to part his lips, letting two of your fingers slip past. His hot, wet tongue is so, so soft compared to the canines that brush against your knuckles. Sucks on them a little too eagerly, so content with your taste that his eyes fall shut. 

"Then you'd better hurry up, puppy," you murmur, catching his tongue between your fingers. He can get away at any moment, and yet, he makes no move to. 

Far too gentle, compared to the out-of-control, bloodthirsty werewolf stereotype. 

"Quit calling me that," his speech is a little garbled, talking without a fully operational tongue. But he's reaching down, pushing at the thick band of his sweats, heavy cock damn near falling out of its confines. So flushed and swollen that you reckon it's gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. Audibly slaps against your cunt, between your parted folds, right where he ought to stay for the rest of his life. 

Or, rather, where he ought to stay after he's done with you. 

Bobby has to draw himself back by a damn mile to stroke his big, blunt head down your core, nudging politely at your entrance. You're still so loose, opening easily as he presses into you. Thick, pink tip stretching you wide, bullying his way back into your overfucked, needy pussy. 

A noise draws out of your lips. Starstruck by the drag of his cock, big enough to make the dry, unlubricated glide feel like it's going to split you open. Would hurt if you weren't dripping around him, an obscene mixture of lube and cum spilling out of your pussy, coating him once more. 

"That's it," you breathe, head tilting back, "good boy."

A pitchy whine slices through the air.

You haven't heard that one before. 

Opening your eyes is damn near impossible, and yet, you're finding the strength to force them open. Immediately focusing on his flushed face. "What?" Your giggle is strained. Lungs suddenly too tight. "You like it when I call you that?"

He nods a little too eagerly. "Uhuh."

It's not fair.

Truly, it isn't. He shouldn't be allowed to bat those long, innocent lashes at you. Not when his oversized cock has your pussy aching as he sinks into you. It's a damn wonder he's fit the past three times because he's barely halfway in, and you're already struggling. Hands scurrying behind his neck, nails biting into the lithe muscle of his shoulders. Lungs seeming to shrink with every inch you take of him, running out of space for oxygen.

"'m I hurting you?" He whispers in that fragile tone of his, glasses glinting as he tilts his head forward. 

Your head is shaking before he can even begin to stall his hips. "N...no."

"Your nose is scrunched like it is," and as if you could have possibly forgotten where it's located on your face, Bobby leans in and bumps his nose against yours. So damn warm compared to this chilly little locker room; feels like you've cozied up to a furnace rather than a man. 

Defiant, your head tilts forward, foreheads knocking together. "Because you're big, dummy." 

His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." Struck dumb. 

As if he possibly could have deluded himself into believing that every man on this planet walks around hung like a damn horse. Even you had known it. Could see the fat outline of him in those thin sweats he loves. Blissfully unaware of the way his cock makes its presence known as he walks. 

But he's finally, finally bottoming out in you. Not a damn millimeter of space left for him to fill, sweaty skin flush against your ass. It's a damn wonder that you haven't started waddling from the amount of times you've felt this very sensation today. Once in the comfort of your bed. Again, in the break room, after you got the call that everyone else would be late. And when you'd dared to venture into Bob's office, perching yourself in his lap, kissing beneath his ear until he cracked and let you ride him.

Fatigue has only recently started to settle into your bones, and by the looks of it, Bob is feeling it, too. Pretty eyes closed, completely and utterly uninterested in moving. You'd think he was asleep if he didn't suck in a breath when you involuntarily clench around him.

"Too tired to fuck me, Robby?" You murmur, raising a hand to comb through his messy hair, ruined by your own doing.

He hums, twitching out of you a little, only to push back in just as lazily, "thought ya might be sore." 

"What," stars sparkle behind your eyelids; he's rubbing against that overworked bundle of nerves on every slow pass of his cock, "makes you think that?"

"Earlier," pumping into you a little faster now, finding that same old rhythm that never seems to lose its dizzying charm, "you were muttering about me bruising your pussy."

That...

"You heard that?" You could have sworn you'd muttered that while you were cleaning up last time. 

When he was on the other side of the room.

"I hear a lotta things," chirping, all too friendly. There's no reason why a man should smile so innocently while his hips are smacking into your ass, "like you whining my name in your hotel room last Tuesday."

Images flicker through your memory. The coziness of an expensive hotel bed. Soft blankets and an even softer, golden glow of the bedside lamp in a room all to yourself. Wrapped up in a false sense of privacy as your hand ventured below your waistband.

He'd heard you through the damn wall?

But you can't even be mad because he's squeezing you a little tighter. Every thrust of his hips bounces your body further up the lockers. Knocking the breath out of your lungs. A weakened whine twisting through the quiet air. Too intimate of a sound to be in a communally shared room. 

"And you wonder why I hate most werewolves," writhing. Arms tightening around his shoulders. Heels digging into the meat of his ass. "What else can you do? Smell when I'm turned on?"

"Uhuh," his obedient head nods. Such an unassuming motion that has you clamping down around him. Rips a groan right out of his broad chest. 

His hips shift. The slightest change in angle, and yet he's driving right up into those nerves. Plush tip massaging them head-on. Has you fluttering around him like a damn butterfly. Sent into a never-ending spasm.

"Fuck," you wail. Nails biting into his soft neck. "Bobby!"

And you're vaguely aware of the way he's looking up at you. Big puppy eyes, in utter awe of the sight before him. "There?" 

You're nodding before you've even recognized what he's asking. Clinging to him. Squeezing his big, overheated body to yours like he'll vanish if you don't. Worst of all, he lets you—pretty face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, the rims of his glasses digging into your flesh, where you can hug him even closer. Your cheek squishing against the side of his head.

"Good boy," gasping into his ear, "keep doing that."

A shiver races down his spine. Mouthing at the side of your neck. Whimpering beneath his heaving breath. The oversized palms that cling to your ass beginning to shiver. Slippery with sweat and struggling to maintain his grip. Growling low in his chest, suddenly sharp nails poking and prodding against your flesh as something within him switches gears.

You know it has because the tips of his ears are growing unnaturally fuzzy. Pointed. And in the time it takes for your hand to reach them, they've already turned. Looks as if the ears of a wolf have been glued to the sides of his head. Twisting and turning, sensitive and reacting to every involuntary noise that falls off your tongue.

"Bobby—" you choke. Squirming. Fighting for a glance at his flushed face. Have to tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his face right out of your neck. And he's...

magnificent. 

Glasses smudged by spit and sweat and hopelessly fogged. Strands of soaked hair cling to his glistening forehead. Mouth agape. Impossibly sharp canines glint in the poor lighting. Pink tongue on the verge of lolling out past his lips like a damn domesticated dog, panting in the summer heat. 

And yet, as you push his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, you find that his eyes are the same shade of sky blue. Wide and so, so eager. 

His feet shift, leaning away. You back presses harder against the lockers. A gap forms between your bodies. Just enough for your hand to let go of his hair and dart between. Diving past the hem of your shirt, clinging to your clammy skin, stopping just above his pistoning cock, to find your sore and overused clit. A tingle bolts up your spine.

"Fuck, you're—" Bobby's eyes screw shut.  Grunting low in his chest. A guttural, animalistic noise you've only heard him make once. "Clenching around me so fucking...mhm, shit." 

You reckon he can feel your sudden contraction as well as you can feel the fat swell of his cock head. Driving into you impossibly deeper. As if this sudden wolfiness has made him larger than he was before. His angle hasn't shifted, but his oversized tip rubs right into your g-spot with a vigor that makes your legs tremble around his hips. Head spinning. Tipping back to hit the locker door.

"Robby, Robby, keep, keep—," babbling. Cut short. He's listening. He's listening. Rubbing right into those little nerves over and over and over. You're not sure if the heat coiling in your belly is from his cock or your fingers. "Fuck, good boy."

"You gotta quit calling me that," he pants, sentence fractured by a choked moan, "gonna have me following you like a lost puppy for the rest of your life."

He'd look cute with a little blue collar that matches his eyes. But you can't hang onto that idea for long.

"I don't mind the," gasping, "idea of that."

Your body is beginning to tense. Too hot for this little room. The coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock. Pussy squelching with the motion of him, so damn wet that you fear you're dripping onto the floor below. And Bobby is whimpering again. Pitchy little noises that you can't believe are coming from your cunt being wrapped around him.

His pretty mouth can't stay shut. Already opening again. "I'm...I...I'm—" 

"Uhuh," is all you can manage. Struggling to keep your eyes open. Legs growing tighter and tighter around him until, until, until—

Your back arches off the lockers with a silent cry. Thrust up into the clouds. Head spinning like a top. Spasming and cumming around his big, oversized cock without another warning. And you're only vaguely aware of the way he cries out at the feeling. Hips stuttering to a halt. Filling your well fucked pussy with his cum for the fourth time today. Twitching inside you. His head falling back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder. 

It may not have been your most intense orgasm of today, but it does take you some time to come down. Brought back to earth by the kisses against your clammy skin and the nimble fingers that massage the plush swell of your ass. 

Bobby looks normal again. Not a single wolfish feature to be found. Back to your same old, soft-eyed tech guy. The one who has deceived you into thinking he was human for so, so many years. Probably would have been able to keep up the act, too, had you not crossed the boundary between friends and lovers. 

Abrupt, his head snaps up. Those wolf ears are back. Twisting and turning like little radar dishes. 

"Shit," he snarls, and before you're even ready, he's sliding out of you. Cum already beginning to spill down your thighs. 

"What?" You're helpless. Don't realize you've been placed back on the floor until he's led you halfway across the room. "Bobby, what is it?"

"Jake. Bradley." Short. Straight to the point. "Down the hall. Coming this way."

There's a tiny janitor's closet in the corner of the locker room—barely big enough for one body to fit inside of it, never mind two. Not the ideal hiding spot, but with no other exit, you've got no choice. It's either hide or be caught.

You can only hope that there isn't a noticeable mess on the floor. Or, worse, a trail leading all the way to the door. 

The door to the locker room squeals open just as the closet closes. Your weary head struggling to catch up to speed, still processing the drop to the floor and the the things Bob has just said to you. Hell. The only reason you notice his arms are around is, is because of the wayward finger that dips beneath your shirt, stroking your skin.

Jake and Bradley are talking. The rumble of the voices is clear, but you can't make out a word that they're saying. It must be something funny because they're laughing. All too loud, uncaring of who they may disturb with their volume or where their voices may wander in the building.

For a moment, you're afraid to breathe. Worrying about the hammering of your heart. As if they could possibly hear the tiny thump of it in your chest.  

Bob's spent cock bumps into your hip. Still free of his confines. Wet with an obscene mixture of his cum and your wetness. Proof of your rendezvous. Frankly, you couldn't bring yourself to go another round, even if you got your hands on a magical reset button. But you can't help but notice that you haven't felt the glide of him against your tongue in such a long while...

Surely, Jake and Bradley won't hear if you...sink to your knees, here...just for a minute or two...

"What are you doing?" Bob whispers, barely audible, even to you. Eyes wide as you reach for him. "You can't—are you serious right now?"

But kicking up a fuss will get the two of you caught. A risk he can't afford to take. Not with those big, wolfish ears still twisting and turning on the sides of his head. The very thing you've all been gathered here to eliminate. 

Daring, your tongue pokes out of your mouth.

The slam of Jake's locker washes over Bob's sharp inhale. Too sensitive for the hellish sensation of your hot tongue dragging against the underside of him. 

His hands rise. Both of them clamping down over his mouth. Eyes screwed shut.

There's a tremor to him that wasn't there before—shaking like a lone leaf in the wind. Helpless to do anything but let you keep licking at him. Long strokes of your tongue. Gathering the sweet mess that clings to his cock. Who could have thought that an identifying characteristic of North American werewolves is sweet cum? You sure didn't until he'd cum in your mouth that first time.

Hell, he didn't even know. 

It's too dark to see his face, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your shoulders. Hips twitching away, but never making the move to push your head away. Helpless to let you clean his pretty cock with your tongue, from base to tip. 

If there was light in here, you're certain he would be shimmering with your saliva by now. 

Whatever it was Jake and Bradley needed to do, it didn't seem to take them long. Their boots clomp across the floor. Lockers slamming shut. Loud, muffled voices grow faint as they meander down the corridor, surely heading to their vehicles, looking forward to a well-deserved day off tomorrow. 

You suppose Bob has heard the back door chime because his hands fly off his mouth. 

He's fortunate that you're too tired to push him much further. Gathering up the last of him. And just for extra measure, you allow yourself the simple pleasure of wrapping your swollen lips around his tip. Teasing his slit. Sucking gently. 

"You can't just," he babbles, sweaty hand pawing at the side of your face, "baby, baby, 's too much, it's too—"

His cock twitches. A splash of cum hits your tongue. A heavy puff of breath sounds from above.

He's pushing your head away before you can even begin to do it yourself. 

"Monster," his chest heaves as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"I could say the same about what you just put away," you grin. Rising back up to your feet. He wipes that expression off your lips with a big, wet kiss.

His ears are back to normal, much to your dismay. No fluffiness present to greet your fingers as your hands cup the sides of his face, bringing him back in for one, two, three, four more kisses.

And as you slip back into the locker room, you're greeted with a sheet of printer paper taped to the lockers. And in big, messy handwriting, it reads, "Who's been fucking in here?" With a list of possible culprits at the bottom. Their votes have already been cast, accusing Mickey and Rueben by leaving scraggly check marks next to their names.

"Damn," Bob's brows furrow, incredulous, "my name didn't even make the list." He grumbles, already reaching for the discarded pen. 

You can hardly swallow down your giggle. "That just means there's more for us to get away with, my dear." Speaking as innocently as you can. Batting your eyelashes at him. 

His eyes roll.

"I'm gonna dress as an old lady and eat you if you keep quoting that darn fable," but he's laughing. Tossing that pen back where he found it. Already reaching for your hand, squeezing it in his own. And with a limp in both of your steps, you venture back into the hallway and out into the parking lot. Already conjuring up your next big escapade before you can even tumble into the front seat of his truck.

This time, you reckon that you and he should go chasing a false werewolf scent for some fun in the woods. You've even got the little red coat to fit the occasion. The exact same shade of Bob's cheeks as you reveal your idea to him.

And in two days' time, when you all flood into the locker room to change, Jake will point at the tiny, squished inscription of Bob's name on the list and laugh. How funny is that? Somebody really thought their quiet wallflower tech guy was the culprit! 

All Bob can do is look your way and flash you that big, wolfish grin. Unusually sharp canines and all.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

S, I'm beginning you please write something about the new videos of Sebastian in the Gym. I need some smutty M/F action because I'm going ferral for those images 😩

related to all the content coming from Don's social media about Seb's return to the gym mafia

I already have a ton of requests to get to--which I do love, it's wild to have people want my writing so much, like, what the hell--and normally I get to them based on who's been waiting the longest but... the Seb content is so recent, I just have to get down with this 👀

(And I promise if you're not into x reader content, we'll get back to regularly scheduled programming soon! It just so happens that I got two x reader requests so soon after opening my ask box fully again.)

gif made by @/unearthlydust

Between the few moments it takes for the sound of keys jingling to register in your brain, hitting your ears muffled from outside, and the short time it takes for you to walk from your miniature modestly sized NYC apartment living room to the entryway, Sebastian has managed to unlocked the door, slide into your home, and... sit himself on the floor, apparently.

His head is reclined back, resting on the wall. Conversely, his legs are folded up, knees bent, his arms resting on them. He has yet to attempt to start to take his shoes off. Clearly, he walked in--or maybe he crawled, you muse to yourself, smirking--and immediately put himself down on his ass.

A chuckle leaves you at the sight of him. But, there's more breath contained in the amusement-colored sound than you'd like to admit. As you tilt your head down to take him in, you excuse your stare with a question, "Don work you over good, baby?"

You stare more while he thinks about his answer, processing, clearly frazzled from whatever mild torture Don put him through this time, not just working out but working out on film, meaning they stopped and started and stopped and started and had to refilm sets and probably ended up doing double the work planned. He took a long time today.

You saw him when he left, but the sight of Sebastian is much different now when his shirt is soaked through with sweat, the thin, breathable fabric clinging obscenely to the hard, lean shape of his body. His collar, err, the collar of his shirt is more stretched than you remember, exposing just a taste of his collarbones. Something in you whispers salaciously to pull it down more until you hear the seams start to give way so you can drag your teeth against the sharp lines of his collarbones, leave him gasping, so you can smooth your lips down the defined line between his pecs and feel his heart start to pound as if he's back on the treadmill. He must've been pulling at his shirt collar, dying to get out of his clothes, too hot. He probably even stripped himself out of it at some point. The thought makes you shift your weight where you stand from one foot to the other, cocking your hip, barely resisting the urge to cross your legs and squeeze your thighs together, thinking of, picturing really, all his tanned, smoothed skin, his muscles seemingly more defined after each session with Don. More and more firm under your teasing fingertips.

From your place a few feet away, looming, you watch him swallow. The rolling, contracting motion of his throat unfolding in slow motion, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Seb?" You have half the mind to prompt him again, your lips curling into a wider smirk despite yourself, preoccupied.

You're beginning to feel like a cat toying with a mouse...

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, swallowing again, thunking his head back against the wall slightly as if to wake himself up. His hair is damp and wavy from the session, the texture fighting against his cut and style, frizzing up as if it wants to play, too.

He's so fucking cute.

Unbearably attractive and cute.

Sitting down there, his chest isn't exactly heaving, but he's not casually breathing either; still sweaty and flushed, his body is clearly begging for oxygen, leaving him at its mercy to completely fill and empty his lungs. As his chest expands, your eyes can help but wander down to the outline of his nipples through his clinging, painted-on, almost transparent shirt; they're hard and pointed, right there high on his pecs, so exposed.

Drawn in, you take a step closer to him, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. Your boyfriend, spontaneously becoming a puddle on your floor... oh, no, whatever will you do?

"Don's gonna kill me someday," Sebastian finally manages, adding on, "I'm so tired," and host-to-god pouting up at you. Then, as if that isn't enough, he blinks at you. Those big eyes. If you didn't know better, you'd suspect he was batting those eyelashes at you. You do know better. You know he is.

Even when he's turned to liquid, too hot, too melted and tired, he's a tease. Brat, maybe, is a better word...

At least you don't mind soaking him up. Mopping him up? Either way, between the two of you, there's something there, something ironic about the way he melts, turns to molten liquid, anyone else would expect it'd be you, getting wet, and... yeah. A wider grin splits your mouth. You don't care if you look a little predatory, perhaps unhinged with desire. It's Sebastian's fault. Coming home. Sitting there. Looking like that. He's a sitting, slouching duck.

Realistically, he needs a shower. He's sweaty, and he smells like more than deodorant and laundry, how he did when he left, but you don't give a shit. You know what you need.

"I don't wanna get up," he huffs, hiding his hopeful smile by licking his too pink lips as you prowl another step closer.

Goddamn.

Again, you step closer, coming to stand in front of him. Standing over him.

"Then don't," one of your eyebrows creeps up, a challenge and raising an expression that makes you look imposing. You know it does simply by the way Sebastian reacts to you--his muscles relaxing even more, slouching into the wall a little more, his breathing getting just a touch heavier. He's so statifyingly easy.

A sigh slips out of his statically parted lips--the cherry on top.

"Too tired to get up?" You ask, "poor guy, stuck on the floor, hmm? Your muscles all sore, helpless andd--" your teasing words trail off as you move, gracefully moving into action, tapping his left wrist where it's balanced on his left knee with the pads of your fingers, patiently waiting not long at all for him to allow his sneaker-covered feet to slide odediently across the wooden floor. It leaves his legs straight, spread into an easy v.

Perfect.

You step neatly over him with one foot, positioning yourself to get into his lap without fret. Settling in easy as anything. You've had plenty of practice here. Still, he gasps when the back of your thighs and ass make contact with his body, separated by your own clothes and his soft, blue shorts. He's already hard. You can feel the heated line of him, pressing insistently against you. A deeper curl of heat hooks into you, pulling you toward him, letting your hands rest on his broad shoulders.

"--what ever are we gonna do about your delicate condition?" You pick up where you left off, cocking you head to the side at the same time that you lift a deft hand to cup his jaw, petting along it's sharp cut, "what ever am I gonna do about it?" You think out loud, correcting yourself.

Sebastian let's out a shuddering exhale.

"No thoughts?" You tease, gripping his cleft chin insistently. Not tightly, but firm.

"N-no," he concludes, even though you can feel him squirming underneath you, hardly reining himself in from grinding up against you. He wants something. But he's not going to ask for it, he likes it better when you decide what to do with him anyway.

"Hmm," you take a moment to really think, still struck by how attractive he is. Even gym-sweaty and a little gross--especially gym-sweaty. It's a good fucking look.

Inspiration strikes.

You let your hands fall from his face, relishing inside at the soft sound he makes, so weak for your touch, and instead blaze a path down his throat to his collarbones that wing out into his shoulders, down his arms, then back up.

"I ever tell you how handsome you are?" You look up from where your fingertips catch on his shirt sleeves.

Immediately, the bridge of Seb's nose is red, back to that post-gym glow and then some. Underneath you, his strong thighs tense, reacting viscerally to the praise. Enjoying.

You huff something of a laugh. He's just so precious. "Is that a no?" Your hands keep moving in parallel with your lips, exploring him all over again; he's spread out just for you, so you might as well. Jesus. You can't resist squeezing his arms as you scoot higher on his lap, really pressing your hips together as you feel him up, his muscles still pumped and hard after use. "'Cause you are, you're gorgeous," the words come out rougher around the edges than you mean, something snapping, arousal igniting from sparks to a smolder.

As red as he already was, his color flushes darker, eyes darting away. Shy.

"You're so fucking handsome, so pretty," you bring your squeezing hands up, pressing into his muscle enough to make the ache in them resurface as you take ahold of his shoulders.

Another noise bubbles up from Sebastian's chest, both a reaction to the words and to the sensation. He's always enjoyed pleasure with an edge--if not a soft, throbbing ache than outright pain. Sharp and overwhelming, stealing his breath, leaving him without the ability to focus on anything but how good it feels. How much it hurts. How hot and irresistible it is. Between lapping waves, pulses, of heat low inside you, you feel Sebastian getting hotter, too. Parallel. His dick twitches beneath you.

You feel wicked.

You haven't even done anything yet! Just told him the truth. And it makes you dangerous, knowing so much truth and being unafraid to say it to him. To pull each reaction, so sensitive, out of him without mercy.

"I can't believe it sometimes, y'know, honey?" You slip your hands down his back, hot between the wall and his shapely trapezius muscles, his well-sculpted shoulder blades, the line of his spine, and farther. The smoothed muscles of his back, sides, and chest m strain as his lungs expand, sucking in air, feeding the fiery combustion you know is thriving in his gut.

You reach the small of his back and push into the curve of his spine until he arches with you, falling against your chest. His lips brush your chest just below your collarbone, high above your breasts, but you feel your nipples tighten anyway.

"Yeahh," you sigh, letting your head fall back with the weight of your skull, "'s unbelievable."

His humid breath soaks through your clothes, nuzzling into you. God, you wish you fucking took your clothes off before you got into his lap because, Jesus Christ, how are you going to leave now? Your hips buck down against the line of his erection, and your hands dig into his sore muscles harder.

"Oh!" He exclaims in a sharp exhale.

Just for that, heated, you roll your hips more intentionally against him. Just a few times. You know you both have the same thoughts crowding your minds, dirty--the last time you did something like this. Except, last time, his arms were spread, wrists tied back to the headboard, back to the sturdy frame, sitting up with you in his lap, bouncing, your tits in his face, in his mouth, his wet tongue and soft lips and sharp teeth, his sweet sounds muffled as you took pleasure from him. His cock deep inside you, curved and thick.

Now, easily, he curls forward to give you space to touch him. Eagerly wilting or blooming, you can't say, too distracted. Either way, he surrenders so beautifully.

"I look at you, and, mmhh," you clench your thighs around his waist, tight, when he kisses the hollow of your throat lushly, almost panting into what he can reach of your skin, "I-I'm pretty sure I'm losing my goddamn mind because nobody just looks like that."

Speaking of, you already miss his stupidly attractive face, and so, without hesitation, your fingers thread themselves into his thick, wavy hair and peel him off of you, your heat fuzing you together. He goes with a silent moan, mouth hanging open.

"Yeah, look at that face," you tell him, tipping your head down to stare openly, directly, hungrily, tugging at his hair. The way his eyelids droop heavily, shadowing his darkened eyes, is wildly attractive, lulled so effectively by the praise and light pain. Not even pain, just sting. Again, you've not done anything. Barely anything, yet...

Oof.

Here he is, drunk on it.

Yet another hit of electricity strikes you, leaving you rocking in his lap, grinding minutely against him, as slow as the ache inside you can take. The smoldering embers start to crackle. Fanned and growing.

"Fuck believing it," you purr at him, now dragging your nails against his scalp so he shivers with the tingling, teasing sensation, the sting much stronger now, "I can't take it," your other hand smooths down his chest, feeling the well-earning, hard muscles. "It's not good for me, Seb. You have too much pretty, baby." He makes a wanton sound that embarrasses him more, judging by the way he quivers and lets go of another helpless, punched-out gasp.

As a reward, you circle one of his nipples with your thumb. He shivers harder. Pleasured and teased. Then, worse, you grind harder, your insides knotting up. Tightening. You can feel the sticky wetness of your arousal really beginning to dampen your panties. You're both going to need a shower after this.

"I don't know how we get anything done," you sigh," letting go of his hair to massage his chest muscles, just this side of harsh, you want him to feel the tender ache.

A murmur of your name falls from his open lips after he licks them, leaving them shiny and too alluring. The desire to sit on his face rises inside you so intensely it's fucking violent. You want.

Fuck.

Flames crackle and dance through your body. Hot. Deep. Echoing and making you feel the heat again and again.

"Doesn't matter what you're wearing, what you're doing. But, ugh, God, when you're in pre-production mode," indulging yourself, you wriggle, restless with the erotic images flashing through your mind's eye, "working out and--" a sighing, hot noise falls out of you, letting the rest of your sentence fall away, distracted again. Reminded of how he looks right now. Today. Underneath you. "You look like a statue, you know that?"

He peeks up at you through his lashes, biting his bottom lip and, fuck, what're you supposed to do but go for blood? As much as you want him to believe every word, there's something about the shyness, too... that big-eyed, unsure, but oh-so trusting stare. It's like a dagger of erotism straight through the heart. A deadly weapon, you swear, those eyes, cutting you open and filling you with molten desire.

Fingers teasing his nipples, circling, rubbing, pinching you let his breathless sounds underscore more praise, "you look like you belong in a museum with a special plaque, just for you, begging people to mind their manners and not touch."

"I don't--" he half-chokes, half-wines.

"You do," you insistently flick one of his nipples, showing your teeth when he really, actually whines. "It's not their fault, though, Seb. Is it?"

Obediently, he shakes his head just once. Hard. Barely able to look away from you for a moment, even if it's just to answer you.

"One look at you, and they forget themselves, don't they?" You kiss his high, sharp cheekbone, relishing in his blushing, feverish heat. "They just want a piece of you. They'd touch and grope and eat you up if they could. I mean, fuck, just look at yourself, baby--"

He looks down. You know all he sees is your hands on him, you in his lap, you don't mind. Still, you coo at him, "good boy." If for nothing else than to feel his heart beat wildly against your palms feeling up, groping, massaging his chest. His heart working hard to surge lust-thick blood to his cock. He must be aching worse than you are. All you can think about is how wet you're getting, how tight your chest feels, how much you want to touch yourself and, goddamnit, you know what-?

Arching your back--growing hotter with his hoarse groan of desire, his gaze heavy on your tits--you manage to tear a hand off of Sebastian's body. Instead of him, you put it on yourself, sliding your fingers down, down, down from under your boobs to your stomach and lower. Caressing yourself.

Sebastian's breathing speeds up, his eyes locked onto your every move. Fervently watching despite the fact that you're fully clothed. The attention is heady.

Finally, arriving at your destination--slowly, teasingly, you slide your hand beneath the waistband of the fabric entrapping you, seperating your bodies so thinly and yet so devastatingly, too. So close. So far.

Under your shorts and panties, you can really fucking feel how hot you are for this. For him. So aroused it's humid. Sticky, wet heat. You feel it, and Sebastian hears it--the second you start to touch yourself, the lewd sounds announce it. Both the tempting noises of your fingers sliding down your pulsing, swollen slit, finding where you're soaked to bring the slickness up and rub tight circles around your clit, electric, lush, and the ripped-out noise of a moan.

Oh, God.

Your fingers tease yourself, touch yourself, and press against your clit, stealing your own breath from your lungs. Rather than clenching your thighs around his solid waist, you let your legs spread wide, easing a gratifying, punched-out moan from Seb.

Your breath catches as you think of what it'd be like if were naked right now, he'd see everything, the rhythm of your fingers as you pleasure yourself, the sight of your pussy, wet and hot and plump, aching for him, so ready. Without clothes, you could spread yourself wider, too. Show him more. Then, it'd be so easy for him to slide into you, too. It'd feel so good. Thick and, "mmmmguh," you moan, wordless. Pressing harder, grinding against your hand more than you grind down against him, pleasure ramping up.

Sebastian has started to pant harshly, interrupted by stuttered starts and stops of words. Probable begs to be allowed to touch you inside or choked-off wishes to fuck you. Feel you around him--his fingers, his cock, anything.

Anything.

Abruptly, too horny to stau put together, you think about his abs. Yeah. The way his abdomen goes taut and hard with the jerk of his hips, muscles flexing, and then your thoughts spiral further. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking about being wet and slipping and sliding, grinding against his stomach, above his cock, taking pleasure but giving nothing to him. Relishing in how he arches and pleads under you, pushing into you--folding against you. He doesn't get anything while you get everything. Controlling him. Gorgeous and strong and all. Leaving him so hard and engorged, the veins in his cock emboldened, the throb of his pulse when you finally take him inside of you, clenching, moaning through your gritted teeth, feeling it as he fucks you, pushing back, taking more of it, taking it--

Your eyes open, only now aware they were shut in the first place. Now could you? You just have to look at him.

You're so hungry you can't resist sliding your fingers down and pressing one, then two inside yourself. Quick. You're so wet. Soaked. Fingering yourself faster, you cry out, bucking against your own hand to catch the heel of it, needing pressure on your clit as the heat of your orgasm builds deep inside you. Tight. Hot. Pleasure knotting up deep inside you and making more wetness drip out of you. Your panties might as well be ruined. You don't care; you want it even while your thighs quiver.

"Seb!" You moan, squirming as he stares, eyes glued between your legs, watching you as if you are naked, so seduced by how you've put yourself on display, unable to stop the show now that you're so far in, so deeply effected by him, his pretty face and unreal body. Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian, your mind reels. "L-look at me," you gasp, as much of an order as you can manage when you're so close.

He does.

You moan.

"Th-that's it, sweetheart," he couldn't blush harder if he tried, "that's it, lemme see all that face, oh, oh God," your nails bite into his hip, needing something, anything to hold onto as it builds up, it builds, and builds, it's coming! Coming--breaking.

Breaking.

Tripping over his name and falling into more praise, "guh-god, you're so fucking pretty, I, mmmgh, I, fucking, fuck, I can't stand it. You're so hot. Jesus, Seb, do you know what you do to me? L-look at me and wh-what you do to, to me, oh, Seb!"

You orgasm wetly. Loudly. Wailing through gritted teeth. Body shuddering--shattering in clenching waves.

Ohh.

The look on Sebastian's face when you finally manage to rip your eyes open again--the overwhelming sensations slowly fading despite your chest still heaving from your release--is devastating. He looks drunk. Dumbfounded. Stupid in the best way.

All over again, you quiver. That expression, so thick with lust, dives down, hitting you straight between the legs--combining, deadly, with the sensitive last dregs of your orgasm, leaving your toes curling.

It's so goddamn arresting that all you can do is steal your hand from between your legs, fingers glistening, sticky wetness dripping down your palm toward your wrist, and hold it out toward him.

An offering.

One that he takes sweetly, mouth is hot and wet, velvety, around your fingers. Sucking. Licking. Groaning at your taste, swallowing, and taking it deep into him.

Breathy, you ask, "are you recovered enough to join me in the shower?"

As you tease with your words, you can't be bothered to be coy any other way, so you shove your fingers deeper into his lush mouth. He doesn't choke, but his eyes water regardless. And the sound that comes out of him, muffled and broken, might've been a sob.

Aw.

You can't resist when he cries, pleading and worked up so hard. Guh.

If you made it to the end, thanks for reading, lmao 😘

[leclsrc]

low life ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, pwp, this is just. nasty Smut guys, max and reader do not like each other, fem!reader who’s a sky sports reporter (not always mentioned, but the foundation of her relationship w/ max)

word count: 3k

You really don’t like Max Verstappen. What you’re doing in his hotel room is a separate issue.

nsfw warnings under the cut! 

18+ because… penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be a fool cover your tool!), dirty talk (degradation), guys… like max is mean (is that so ooc /j), crying, rough rough sex, descriptions of size lol

auds here... the very much asked for repost of the hate sex fic... sequel to come... perhaps... hoping ur **** banks are filled as u have repeatedly told me they would be if i reposted ahjsjdhhs

Your back hits the wall with a dull thud when he slams you against it, hands firm against your waist to keep you close to him.

You wince, a brief fuck you escaping your lips breathlessly before you tug him in by the collar of his shirt, pressing your mouths together. He pulls away to mumble it back, quiet and slurred—fuck you, too.

It’s not sweet or gentle; but then again, nothing about you two ever is. Your fated juxtaposition as reporter and driver have always led you both to the same place of teasing and annoying each other with taunts and remarks that rile the both of you up. There’s always someone around, though, to make sure nothing escalates: Charles, Horner, sometimes Ted, your boss. 

None of them are here, and that’s precisely what allows for you both to be doing this. The kiss is so intense you’re positive it bruises, and Max’s grip on you only tightens, breaths mingling, becoming shorter as the moments pass. His fingers flex and loosen around your waist, and your hands tangle behind his neck, so you’re keeping him flush against you when you bite his lip hard.

He detaches the both of you from the wall—you’re not even sure if he locked the door—and throws you onto the bed. He does so with barely any effort and the realization sends a rush of arousal through you, makes you grow wetter under the skirt you wore today.

Max hovers above you, one knee on the bed but standing. He chews his lip and tastes a faint hint of blood. “I hate you,” you spit. You sit up a little, tugging on the hem of his shirt, your fingers dangerously close to where he needs them most.

He tugs his shirt off from the back and still your hands don’t stop lingering, fingers coiling into his belt loops. “You hate me?” He tests, and his voice is low and annoyed, the way it always is with you. You two have always been like this, cat and mouse, and neither of you ever gives in first. 

You untangle your hands from his belt loops and start unfastening his belt, your gaze lidded as you watch his composure dissolve fast. “Yeah,” you continue, your voice skittish and mocking. “You’re a fucking dickhead.” You pull his belt off and travel back to the bulge in his jeans, squeezing to watch him jerk with the sensation of it.

“Right, call me a dickhead,” he says, his hand coming to ghost over yours, guiding you along his hard-on. “And keep acting like you haven’t soaked through your panties.”

You blink and find yourself quiet, without a concrete rebuttal, mind cloudy from thinking of what you’re touching. You hear him laugh from the depths of where your mind has totally disassociated, focused only on his cock, his voice, his teasing. You glare at him, watch his tongue poke into his cheek as he cocks his head to the side, like he’s asking—this is it? I win?

Rolling your eyes, your grip on his bulge grows antsy, and you buck your hips up into the air. He removes his hand, and it lands on you, tugging at the hem of your skirt. He takes time to stare at your legs in them, the short material providing a wonderful image to him. “You’re such a dick,” you muster, trying desperately to ignore how close his hand is to the apex of your thighs. 

He’s hard against your fingers, thick and heavy, and you can’t help but wish you could pull it out, press it against your lips, make him cum all by yourself.

Roughly, as always, he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your skirt and yanks it off. You absently hear fabric ripping when he drops the tiny bundle of cloth on the floor beside him, his own focus zeroing onto your panties. You roll your eyes, raising your foot to kick at his hip. “Stop staring.”

Having snapped, he doesn’t miss a beat before tearing your underwear off—and this time, you’re not mistaken. You lift your ass so he can yank it off better, and let your head raise to watch Max gather spit in his mouth, letting it drop onto your pussy.

You whine. “What the fuck, Max?” The insult is half-hearted because you stutter halfway throughout, your hand removing itself from his hard-on to find leverage on the bedsheets. “Stop being so gross.”

“I’m gross?” He poses, his lisp heavy. His fingers spread his spit over your clit until you’re shivering, head drooping back down, grip on the blanket tightening. “You’re the one who came to me after the race. To ‘congratulate’ me. Like I didn’t know that was bullshit.”

He rubs faster, watches your thighs tremble.

“You’re the one in my bed, in my room, with my fingers in you,” he continues, and you’re not sure what has more of an effect on you—his words or his hand. “The one who wore such a short skirt on the paddock today, and insisted on interviewing me before the race.”

He sees right through you; he does, every time, without fail, sees your tactics and techniques to gain just a lick of his attention. He pushes a finger into you, and then another, watching them fuck in and out of you. “I wonder what your boss’d say if he knew my most outspoken critic is here fucking herself on my fingers.”

He’s rough with it, impatient, but also calculated, like he knows exactly how you feel. His fingers tug and curl in you, his thumb plays insistently with your clit, unrelenting. Everything he does is overwhelming, wrenching a cry out of you. His words, his teasing—they’ve got you so wet you’re gushing slick all over his fingers, causing an embarrassingly loud noise to vibrate through the room. “Should I tell Kravitz his favorite reporter’s slutting herself out to his least favorite driver?”

Max is bluffing and you know it, but still the way he phrases it has you clenching around him, hips canting to chase your orgasm. He slows down, prolongs the edge, because as per Max Verstappen law, he’s a fucking asshole all the time. “F—fuck you,” you stammer, mind lost. You can feel his dick growing at your hip, and you long to have it in your grip again. 

“Don’t worry, schat,” he says, feigning concern. “I won’t tell a soul. You’re gonna let me fuck this pretty cunt, anyway.” His fingers speed up, thick and glistening, and you try to mentally stave off your own climax—but you’re done for. You lie flat and cover your face with both your hands, trying your best to take it, his fingers plunging in and out of you quickly.

For someone who hates you, he reads your signals too well. He sees it in the furrow of your brows, the way your moans are higher and higher in pitch, your shaky legs. He feels it, too, the clench and grip of your sopping cunt—you look so cute like this, he thinks, so pretty.

“I’m gonna cum,” goads itself out of you in a whimper. “Max—fuck—I’m gonna cum.”

You can feel it, the tension knotting. You clench around his fingers, and your hand slams and wraps over his wrist in attempt to slow him down, but to no avail. His thumb speeds up over your clit, and yes, you’re here, just on the very, very brink of it—then he pulls his soaked fingers out.

You groan out loud, and it tapers into a whine. “Asshole!” You cry, pouting. You’re flushed everywhere. “I was so close, Max.”

“I know,” he says simply. He tugs his dick out with one hand, strokes over it with the one he just fucked you with. You grow warm at the sight of it, lifting your head slightly, transfixed. “Flip over. Wanna see your cunt.”

He’s abrasive with his words, uncaring, with no filter whatsoever. You stay put, crossing your arms. You’re acutely aware you don’t have the upper hand, but stand your ground. “I was going to cum, like, right then.”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Max says, swatting your bare thigh. “Get on your knees, face down.”

You yelp at the slap, and then the one that comes next, pausing to decide your next actions. Begrudgingly, you refuse to make eye contact as you heave yourself off the bed, peeling your sweater off and flipping over fully, drawing your knees in. Having worn nothing underneath the thick top you wore, you’re totally exposed now, a realization that makes you shudder.

Faintly, you hear rustling behind you, and you assume maybe he’s shoving his jeans down. You have barely any time to call his attention before a big hand lands on your ass, and you whine out loud at the pain and surprise of it. You can hear him stroking over his dick, messy and fast, the way he always is.

“Spread your ass,” he grunts. You know better than to let him ask you twice, and while you normally would, to push his buttons, you’re in the interest of gaining an orgasm before the night ends.

Burning with embarrassment, you reach over, smushing your face into the bed and spreading yourself apart, showing him everything: your puffy, glistening cunt, a rivulet of slick dripping onto his bed. Behind you, Max strokes over his cock faster, grunting a cacophony of Dutch profanity. He can almost feel your pussy wrapped around him, and reaches over with his free hand to run fingers over your cunt, to feel it flutterin from his touch alone. His.

It plays back as a fond memory—the times you would test him on camera, ask him about dubious moments during a race with a tone sharper than any other reporter’s. The times you held a sort of confidence over him. He’ll admit, you were right most times—but now, here you are, spread out for him like a slut.

It’s funny, almost. He finishes jerking himself off and guides the tip of his cock to your waiting pussy, dragging it through the slick. He’s waited this long, and God knows he deserves this, this godly feeling of having you around him.

“Fuck you, asshole,” you mutter, because of course you always need to get the last word in.

He hums, letting his dick slide in between your folds. He feels you shudder, and it pleases him. “That’s what I plan to do,” he says, jerking his hips forward and finally sinking into you for the first time. It’s even better than he predicted, warm and tight, and still fluttering around him like a vice.

He grinds into you, deep strokes, and your grip is sliding with how good he hits you. He can feel your slick collecting around his dick, but he can hear it even better, a squelch that turns him on as much as it totally humiliates you. He’s not sweet, he never is. He’s raw, desperate, rough when he fucks into you, bruising you in and out, knocking the temptation to fire a taunt at him out of you in a single thrust.

“I—I hate you,” you moan out, and you should anticipate the spank that comes, but still it jolts a yelp out of you. “I fucking hate you.”

He retaliates by fucking you harder, which you were almost certain was impossible at this point, but he’s drunk on the feeling, on watching your ass bounce every time his hips meet you. He’s thick, and big, and it feels like he’s splitting you open, making you take it, without mercy. 

He yanks a fistful of your hair and pulls you up, flush against his back. Your hands slip from where they’d been spreading you open and you can’t find purchase fast enough with how hard he fucks you. The angle sends his dick even deeper into you, your eyes rolling back, chest flushed, drool escaping the corner of your lip. “Still hate me?” He asks into your ear, a hand coming to pinch at your clit. Your body curls it on itself but he doesn’t let it, holds you in place, makes you stand his endless teasing. 

You’re silent save for the panting and whimpering that escapes you, and Max slows his pace to a drag, so you can feel it better. It’s still not enough, you find, and you tilt your hips back to try and encourage him to go faster again. “Answer me.”

“I can’t,” you try, and you hopelessly realize your mind’s so muddled you don’t even remember the question he’s referring to. “I can’t, just fuck me.”

He laughs, because he’s Max, and he pounds hard, once, before slowing down again. “Beg for it.”

It’s an embarrassing proposition, and you pause, letting his statement sizzle into the thick, tense air. “I’m not begging for shit,” you say defensively.

“Hmm?” He stops moving and lets go of your hair—the sudden loss of grip has you tumbling forward, flopping onto the bed unceremoniously. You try to grind backwards, to feel his cock sink into you further, but he holds your hips still and you whine.

“Max,” you say, on the edge of desperation.

“I said beg,” he repeats, nonchalant. You shake your head, petulant, and he tugs you back up. Every time you change positions—pressed against him, then bent over for him—you’re hit with a new dizzy whiplash of having his dick pressed against a different spot, and you seize, feeling a throb of pleasure ripple through you.

He thrusts once, then stops, and you shake your head again. “P—” you try, pausing, the humiliation welling up in you, warmth spreading all over your body. “Please, Max.”

“Please what?” He thrusts again, and again this time, building a drawn-out pace. You grind back against him, and thank God he lets you. 

“Please—” you whimper, “Max, please, I need you to fuck me.”

It’s his greenlight, fucking you hard all over again, yanking even harder at your hair so he can take a good look at your fucked out face, eyes rolled over, tongue lolling out. Your lids flutter every time he hits that spot inside you, legs spasming. “This is what you wanted, hmm?” Fuck, his dick’s literally tearing you in half. “My dick in this cunt?”

His vulgar words go straight to your core, slick coating his cock again and again. Stupidly, you nod, slipping a hand between your legs to play with your clit. Absently, you hear him ordering you to open your mouth. Already slack-jawed, you lean back, open it a bit more.

He drops spit into your mouth, thrusts hard and tells you to swallow—you follow immediately, drunk on the feeling of his dick pounding you, splitting you in half. Any other time, you would call this gross, but you find yourself growing wetter. “Always calling me an asshole,” he sneers, “a dickhead, a cheeky motherfucker. Just anything. You’re so mean to me, schatz. But now…”

“It’s so good,” you moan, lost in the sensation. “Want it so bad.” Whatever shreds of dignity you have left are flying out the window. You’re barely coherent.

“Now you’re wrapped around me like a good slut.” He drops your hair and presses your cheek against the sheets, forcing a cry out of you. “Tell me—what’d you call me last week, after the race in Sao Paulo?”

You can’t forget. He pulled an asshole move there, and you weren’t afraid to air out your grievances. But here? Why would you need to clarify your muddled brain to tell him that? You shut your eyes. “I—I called you a,” you attempt, “a dirty driver.”

“Yeah, you did. You like taking cock in my bed then? After calling me dirty?” He tugs you up, and you follow, boneless almost, then he drops you down anyway. You’re dizzy with pleasure. “Answer me.”

“Y—yes,” you stutter. “So much.”

“I know you do,” he pants. “‘Cause you get dumb when you have a cock stuffed in you, huh?” His words are too much, all at once, building up inside you until you’re clenching around him, cumming totally untouched. He just laughs at how you look—absolutely wrecked, debauched, sweaty and still writhing around his dick. 

He thrusts, at a bruising pace that doesn’t let you recover from your orgasm. “There you go,” he digs mockingly, “cumming all over me.” He looks down at where your cunt, puffy and slick, is spread around his dick, and lets another glob of spit land on it. He rubs his thumb over it, then brings it higher, over your ass. “Maybe next time I’ll get to fuck this one, huh?”

“Max,” you beg, but he’s uncaring of how sensitive you are. 

He reaches over to rub your clit, his pace quickening until your moans are involuntary and being forced out of you at a staccato rhythm, thin ah ahs that has Max keeping himself from cumming. Jesus, you’re still wet, so perfect around him, the perfect little cocksleeve.

“You’ve been so good, schatz,” he heaves, “apologizing for being so mean, letting me use this cunt. ‘M gonna cum, and you’re gonna take that, too. Yeah?”

You nod, mindlessly, listening to him breathe hard, feeling him lean forward and press his forehead to your shoulder, shuddering, dick twitching—and then he’s unloading inside you. The sheer sensation of it is euphoric and jerks another climax out of you, both of you convulsing around each other.

Wordlessly, you unbend, to press your back against his chest like earlier, and you reach your arm behind you to hug his head close to yours. He thrusts again, and you can feel his cum dribbling out of you, warm and sticky. 

“Fuck you,” you pant, “this is so gross.”

But your grip doesn’t let up, and you let Max press a sloppy kiss to your neck, his facial hair ticklish against the thin skin. You both pause for a minute, breaths loud and brief. His lips linger against your skin, another kiss pressed into it, a way for him to channel the immense pleasure he feels.

“I always knew the mean Sky Sports reporter would be a good fuck,” he says into your neck. You elbow him, skin slippery, and let out a fuck you again. He’s silent, then.

“...Round two?”

[sarahs-secrets2]

Like You 18+ˋ♡ˊ

fem!reader x phillip graves (MINORS DNI 18+, nsfw & sexual themes under the cut)

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“How much longer?” your voice was low, grumbling as you laid back on the bed. Phillip chuckled into the phone, sending a vibration through your body as your hand ghosted over the lacy lingerie covering your body. The sheets were strung around the bed in an erratic matter

“Not too much longer darlin’, be patient for me,” his voice was stern, almost like he knew what you were doing. Could he blame you? He had left you all alone, the sun long gone before he texted you that he was heading home. What was a girl like you expected to do while she waited at home… all alone in the big empty king-sized bed. 

Just the sound of his voice had you eager. Absent-mindedly your hand traveled lower and lower as Phillip’s voice droned on into background noise. A small moan snuck past your lips as you attempted to stifle the sound. 

“Now,” Graves spoke clearly now, his voice echoing through the phone, “Whaddya think you’re doin’ doll.” His voice was like molasses, his southern accent dripping out as he asked the question he already knew the answer to. 

“Hurry please,” you whimpered out, your voice meek as you tried to have some self-restraint for when Phillip did get home. 

What you didn't know was Graves was in his truck losing his mind. One hand was gripping the steering wheel with his knuckles turning white from the pressure he was applying, the other hand was lower resting on his jean-clad thigh as he palmed himself through the denim. He didn't know whether to be thanking or cursing the Bluetooth in the truck that allowed your voice to flood the interior and seep into his mind. 

“Don’t,” was all he was able to spit out, he felt tight like a rubber band waiting to snap. Graves allowed his foot to push down on the accelerator a bit more trying to get home even just a minute faster. “Wait for me,” 

“I will, I will,” you spilled out, the tension building as you squeezed your legs together trying to get any pressure you could find. Lightheaded was putting it lightly, and the seconds felt like hours as you waited. Just as you began to give in to temptation, the distant sound of the front door made you sit up immediately. 

“Did you wait for me doll?” Graves swung the bedroom door open as he gently leaned into the doorknob. His eyes raked over your body, immediately his demeanor changed once he saw you. His once light blue eyes turned into a dark stormy ocean as he sauntered over to the bed where you waited for him. 

Unable to answer him you just nodded, standing up and meeting him halfway to greet him after waiting so “patiently” for him. 

“How’d I get so lucky with someone like you,” he groaned out with his hands grasping at your body pulling you closer to him as he walked you back towards the bed. 

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

[swampstew]

Luffy, N-31 ~ Triple Penetration

Summary: You never believed in mermaids - until you saw one. Oh and he's unique af. What a smile he has, seems friendly. Surely nothing bad will happen.

Warnings: Spicy and delicious but marking Dead Dove because it is pure grade monsterfucking, tentacle porn which I've never dabbled in (im pretty sure) so be nice to me. Octupus Merman Luffy with female reader, consent very strongly implied and outright said but I'm high so if I forgot that's on me. Pretty sure. 99.99%. Title says it, triple penetration via lotsa tentacles, anal creampie, suctioning of erogenous zones, octopus anatomy heavily researched fight me. Word Count: 622

Cecaelia are rare creatures indeed, often only found in small parts of the world. Like mermaid, this species of humanoid creature has the lower body of an octopus, utilizing it much like a real world octopus would. Its been said that they are either sadistic monsters, or playful fishfolk, there does not seem to be any in between. Due to its nature, Cecaelia are able to breathe in water and air, as well as contort their body into many shapes, sizes, and colors. It is unconfirmed if male merman become senescent after courtship like a traditional octopus, or if they lose their appendage.

You were pushed against the wooden door of your ship, tentacles holding your wrists flush against the wood as the creature’s extra tentacles felt you up. Exploring your body eagerly with curiosity. His flexible arms squeezed your flesh, your thighs, your breasts as the human side of the creature leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “I finally caught you my siren,” he cradled your face with slender fingers. “I loved our game of chase, but I’m ready to have you now. Would you have me?”

With a needy gasp, you nodded. You came across him as he sunbathed on some rocks as you sailed by the island he was on, and when you saw his upper torso – you were sure then and there you wanted to fuck him, and confidently cat-called him. Seeing that he was half fish was like going through the five stages of grief, but he had been friendly and funny, and you were secretly pining. With the way his suctions pulled at your skin and the way he softly cupped your body, it was not hard for you to succumb to your needs.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Your clothes were ripped off as his tentacles released you in exchange for the fabric. His strong muscular arms caught you before you could fall and he pressed his lips to yours in frenzied need. His fingers following suit to your cunt when you moaned at his kisses. His fingers plunged over and over inside you while a thin tentacle curved around your thigh, the tip of the tentacle wrapped around your mound and a single tentacle sat above your clit. And it started pulling. When you screamed in pleasure, he added two more tenacles, wrapped around your breasts with suctions over your nipples. Carnal pleasure ripped from you as his arms made you fall apart, squirting over his body, he bit your throat lightly as you came on him, body convulsing wildly but held firmly to the door.

“Can I have you have you?”

“You can have me any way you want, Luffy. I never want you to take your arms off me.”

Luffy pulled back, his tentacle arms moving to position you while gently rubbing against your core and ass - two held your arms together, two held your legs apart. The suction cups doing the most to loosen and lubricate you with your arousal and his own secretions. Then three tentacles rushed to plug your mouth, your pussy, and your asshole as the merman stroked his hectocotyli (cock head). Your moans muffled by the tip of his tentacle as it played with your tongue, your pussy quivered against the squirming muscles that was sucking on your inner walls, your g spot, and your clit.

As you came around his tentacle, Luffy pulled his arm from your ass to replace it with the head of his cock. He ripped his tentacle arm from your mouth to latch his mouth on it as he roared and bucked his body against your shaking one. Semi-clear fluids leaked from your holes as his arms gently pulsed.

2 tiles to go, and since we've already made 60+ calls, the Halloween Scenario is going to be:

Halloween party/séance gone wrong scenario

[no1frogfan]

Haikyuu boys you meet while pet-sitting 3

Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kita, Aran x afab reader

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MDNI, p in v, mirror sex, (very) light degradation, not really breath play but 1 tiny neck squeeze, anal sex, threesome, oral (m & f receiving), creampie (pretty much always), the boys smell good (ALWAYS)

Word count: ~1.5k

Note: Not huge on Oikawa normally, but had a lot of fun writing him here. Happy early birthday to Aran <3. If you enjoyed this, you may thank ix for sending me Miyuki bulge art that turned me into a mess of horny goo

the orig boys | more boys

You hear a loud thump followed by muffled cursing from the other side of the wall. A few minutes later, there’s a knock on your door. Standing there is a very pretty brown-haired man with a pout on his face. When you tell him your friend’s not home and you’re just cat-sitting, he introduces himself as Oikawa Tooru and asks you for help instead. “I’d normally ask Iwa-chan (you have no idea who that might be), but he has the audacity to be out of the country right when I need to hang up these curtains,” he whines. First, you’re stunned by how handsome he is, then, you’re floored by the glamor of his apartment, but nothing prepares you for his bedroom — sure, there’s a huge bed, elegant furniture, and a literal chandelier, but none of these catch your eye as much as the two walls covered floor-to-ceiling in mirrors. You’ve never understood mirrors in the bedroom, but to each their own, you suppose, as Oikawa rambles on about the curtains — color or fabric or weight or whatever.

He insists that you stay for a drink, or two, or three as he regales you with tales of his professional volleyball career in Argentina and how he’s back in Japan for good now, sitting way too close to you on his fancy leather couch, thighs almost touching, one arm slung casually behind you. He’s much sweeter and funnier than his bratty demeanor first led you to believe, and you let yourself be charmed by him, let your senses be filled by his warm brown eyes, easy laughter, spiced cologne. Because there’s only one thing on your mind since you helped him hang those curtains up: what would it be like to be filled with him? And your breathing shallows, thighs clenching at the thought.

Ever observant, Tooru doesn’t miss the signs, which is how he knows you’d respond eagerly when he leans in to bite at your neck, guiding you to the bedroom. And now as he splays you open in his lap, you understand the appeal of the mirrors. You don’t just hear and feel the squelch of your sopping cunt every time he plunges up into you, you see every tremor of your body on full display, you see his hands palming your breasts, you appreciate the sheer size of them as he wraps his fingers around your neck and gives you a light squeeze. You see your pussy lips trembling, your cum and his running down his balls and pooling into a dark wet stain on the sheets. You see his chin resting on your shoulder, forehead sweaty, lips moving as he purrs into your neck about how good you’re taking him, how you’re being such a perfect little fucktoy just for him. You’re exhausted after so many rounds, but when you try to lean your head back to rest on him, he tsks, wrapping one calloused hand around your jaw to yank your chin back down. “Ah ah, eyes on me,” he orders as he reaches down to slap your throbbing clit, “watch me make this slutty pussy cum one more time.”

“Come here, c’mon boy!” You bend over and slap your thighs invitingly, trying to act like everything’s fine. Everything’s normal! You’re just playing around in the park! But Bacon sees through your lies. He knows you’re just trying to leash him, and he’s decided that being chased is way more fun than being caught. He runs off again with a muddy splash and you straighten up with a groan. This is your fault, really. You should’ve been more careful clipping his harness on this morning, but he really needed to go outside and you were basically still asleep as you pulled on some sweatpants and shuffled out. You’re just starting to accept that today will be miserable when you hear a husky “Need some help with Bacon?” You stiffen as a tall man with spiky black hair approaches you, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. He introduces himself as Iwaizumi Hajime, your friend’s neighbor. Ah, so that’s why he knows Bacon.

By the time you two catch him, he’s rolled in 3 more mystery puddles and has basically become a foul swamp creature. Iwaizumi very kindly carries him back to your friend’s apartment and helps you bathe him too. After you both clean yourselves up, you cook him lunch as a small thanks and the two of you get to chatting. He tells you he’s an Olympic trainer. So that’s why all you want him to do is pin you down and fuck you senseless. You wet your lips as your mind wanders, your eyes raking over his broad shoulders and burly thighs. He clears his throat, that smirk tugging at his lips again when he asks you if you “Like what you see?”

Oh, you definitely do. If you could have a single coherent thought right now, you’d thank your lucky stars as your knees are pinned against your ears and your shoulders are pressed awkwardly against the back of the couch, a continuous whine of “oh fuck— fuck— oh my g— fuck Hajim—mm so good—” spilling out from your mouth as a wall of Iwaizumi looms over you. He angles himself with each thrust to hit that spot inside your clenching pussy that has your eyes rolling back. He teases one finger against your asshole, gingerly slipping it in when he hears you moan, pushing you over the edge for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s obviously not just the athletes themselves that have Olympic-level stamina because Iwaizumi is immediately ready to go again, pressing the tip of his cock against the entrance of your ass. You shudder and wiggle against him, letting out a pleased sigh as he presses inside, his eyes locked on yours for any sign of discomfort. There’s none as you encourage him, the slick of your combined cum dripping down and easing him in. He thumbs your clit, helping you adjust to the size of him before he starts to move slowly, struggling to maintain a slow pace as you spasm around his cock. His thrusts get faster and sloppier despite himself, “Fuck not so tight—,” he chokes out as your legs begin to shake and you writhe beneath him on the brink of another orgasm.

You don’t think you can get any luckier when you find out your temporary neighbor is Ojiro Aran. He heard you were housesitting and came around on your first day to offer his help should you need it. (You’re normally not into goatees, but Aran might have singlehandedly changed your mind.) Between his soft smiles and his habit of drinking coffee shirtless on the balcony every morning, you’re already feeling blessed every day. But it turns out, you can get luckier, and you do, when suddenly a second shirtless man joins him. “Kita Shinsuke, I’m visiting for a few days.” Between the two of them, the number of wet dreams you have suddenly skyrockets.

You learn they both used to play on the same volleyball team, and that Aran now plays professionally while Shinsuke is a rice farmer. Someone else they used to play with is now on the Olympic team, and Kita is in town to attend a practice game. They invite you along despite your protests that you know nothing about volleyball, patiently explaining the basics during the match. All of you end up having a ton of fun. The three of you grab drinks and takeout from a famous onigiri restaurant you’ve been dying to try (somehow they know the owner there too) and unwind together after a long day. Aran and Shinsuke are both so easy to talk to that you start to feel too comfortable, too honest, and apologetically confess to having way too many sex dreams about them.

It certainly seems like your apology is accepted as they press their hands and lips all over you, pinching your thighs and gently mouthing at your chest. Aran’s stare almost burns you as he watches Shinsuke grip your thighs, holding you down on his face while his tongue skillfully coaxes another orgasm from you. Your vision clouds as you ride it out, babbling about how much you want them both inside you. They would never deny you. Aran gently presses you forward so you’re bent over Shinsuke, eagerly lapping at the salty precum dripping from his tip. Aran positions himself behind you. He eases into your dripping pussy, you moan through a mouthful of Kita, and Kita whines into your cunt. The sensations are overwhelming now as Aran drives into you, fingers bruising your hips as his balls slap against you, driving Kita’s cock further down your throat. Kita’s mouth and tongue busy themselves with sucking and lapping at your clit. You feel Shinsuke buck up into your throat, load after load of hot cum gush into your mouth while Aran rails you, a shuddering groan vibrates against your folds building the tension in your core again. “Just like that baby,” one of them groans out between clenched teeth as you tip over the edge one more time.

[jessmaybank]

Jailbirds; Part 3 - an exception

Series masterlist

Outer banks masterlist

Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x fem! Reader.

Word count: 800

Summary: JJ isn’t done with you yet.

Warnings: SMUT, choking, hand job, unprotected sex, praise kink.

AN: Yeah this is pretty much all smut lol. Enjoy!

“Im not done with you yet” he says, pulling you up to straddle him. Your hands find comfort wrapped around his neck, and you can barely register what he’s saying. All you could concentrate on was the fact you were about to fuck JJ in a prison cell.

Not the most romantic setting you’ve ever dreamed of, but you can’t deny the way your heart thumps as he roams his hands around your body.

“You sure you wanna do this Maybank? Once you fuck a kook there’s no going back” you tease, a small smile tugging on your plump lips.

“I think….” He starts, grabbing your hips and grinding them against him, causing you to whimper. You could feel he was rock hard, and your need for another release was creeping in by the second.

“I’ll make an exception for you” he says, and you smiled at him like a damn cheshire cat.

Your lips lock like they were meant for each other, lust and passion taking over as you practically eat each others faces. It was strange how right this felt.

You grab the blanket and wrap it around you both, shielding you incase the gaurds walked in. You prayed they didn’t.

You claw your nails down JJ’s chest before they land on his bottom half, and you palm him through his shorts.

He let’s out a quiet moan, and it was music to your ears. He helps you pull down his shorts and underwear, and his cock springs out, slapping against his stomach.

Your jaw almost drops at the size, but you give nothing away, before taking his cock in your hand.

You start pumping him slowly, and he throws his head back in relief, his eyes fluttering shut before you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a sight quite like it, all you wanted to do was please him.

Your touch felt like heaven to him, moans spilling out of his mouth like he couldn’t control it. And truth be told, he couldn’t.

You spit on his cock, smothering your saliva all over him, before you begin to pump him faster.

“Fuck” he moans. If your hand felt this good, he couldn’t imagine how good your warm mouth would feel wrapped around him.

Desperate for more, he pulls you forward so your aligned with his cock. You push your panties to the side, before he enters you with one quick slam.

You both moan out as he fills you up, stretching you out more than any one ever had, and you loved it.

You begin bouncing on his cock like your life depended on it, a string of curse words leaving your mouth as the sensations wash over you both.

The sight before him was enough to make JJ cum, but he refused to. He never wanted to stop.

Your lips reconnect in a sloppy kiss, his hands trailing down to your ass and giving it a squeeze, before he helps you bounce on him even harder.

“You take my cock so well princess, look at you”he says, bringing his hand up to your neck to choke you.

You whimper at his words, clawing onto his shoulder as you fuck him. The guards could probably hear you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I think I’m close” you whisper, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach start to grow.

Hearing this, JJ brings his hand down from your neck and begins to trace circles on your clit, and you reach a state of pure bliss.

“Good girl, cum on my cock” he says, and that’s all it takes for you to come undone.

Your back arches as you find your release, your juices smothering his cock. Pornographic moans leave your lips as you grab onto his hair whilst he fucks you through your orgasm.

As soon as your done, JJ can’t handle it anymore, and he cums deep inside you. You bury your head in his neck as you regain your breath, and he does the same.

The next morning, the guards open the door to release you. A feeling of unease fills you as you come to realise your not sure what this means for you and JJ.

Despite the fact you spent a night in a cell, you didn’t actually feel that bad. You actually managed to sleep at one point, with your head resting on JJ’s shoulder. He would never tell you this, but he thought you looked so cute when you were asleep.

Stepping out into the morning light, you wince at the sudden exposure to sunlight.

“See ya around Maybank” you say, exchanging a glance with him before your dragged into separate cars.

Sitting in the back of the police car, with JJ’s dried cum still on your thighs, you recognise that you do know one thing.

This isn’t going to end well.

————————————————————————

Ahhhh I love this series so much. In the next part we will see how both of them interact on the outside!

Tags: @pagesfalling @dreamingwithrafe

[wri0thesley]

i just. sending welt nudes while hes on a trailblazing mission. videos of you touching yourself telling him how much you miss him on the train. welt having to excuse himself to relieve some of that tension. he replies with an audio clip of him moaning your name as he comes to your messages.

cw: masturbation, erotic images, somewhat non-consensual voyeurism, reader is afab and chubby-coded. welt uses names 'sweetheart, darling, vixen'.

"Of course, General, if we can be of help we're more than happy to--"

Welt is interrupted by the chirping of his cell-phone; he glances at the screen as he tails off, to see that he's received a new message from you. Your trademark style of typing flashes across his screen; he barely represses the smile that always wants to flit across his features when he thinks of you.

I miss you! ;m;! [you have received 1 image]

This time, the smile does break his face, as March 7th takes over talking for him, clearly seeing that he's distracted. He wonders what you've sent as the attachment; just recently, March has shown you how to access a great number of GIFs and reaction images online; he wonders if it's one of your favoured cat gifs, or perhaps a sad rabbit with a river of tears running from its eyes, or even just your same sentiment expressed in glittering text--

Not even thinking, he swipes his thumb across to view it.

And almost drops his phone.

It takes all of his quick thinking to ensure that Caelus beside him doesn't see the image that flashes up on his screen. Ordinarily, he'd have been thrilled to receive such a thing - ordinarily, though, he isn't in a meeting with one of the most important men in the political landscape of his current world.

Jing Yuan regards him over the table, head tilted to one side like a large reclining lion.

"Are you alright, Mr Yang?" He asks, in that deep, low voice that somehow always manages to sound a little tired. "Do you need a minute?"

If Welt wasn't sure that nobody had seen the screen, he would almost say that Jing Yuan knew what kind of image he had just received.

His phone lets off another chirp. Welt glances down and - oh, Aeons, this one is even more brazen than the first. His throat suddenly goes dry; the stricture in his trousers becomes more and more uncomfortable. What are you thinking?

He coughs, readjusting his glasses, standing and trying to angle himself so that the predicament your little messages have caused isn't broadcast to everyone present.

"Yes," he says. "Actually, I think I'll excuse myself for a moment--"

He barely thinks as he stumbles towards the door that Jing Yuan motions to, a small smile on the man's leonine features. All he can think about is getting out of the suddenly stuffy meeting room, finding somewhere private to study the images he's just been sent--

The bathroom door locks behind him and he sags in relief, back against the door, palms sweating as he fumbles for his phone and another chirp goes off.

First things first.

He takes a moment to look at that first image again.

Compared to the later ones, this one seems almost tame - but out of nowhere in the middle of an important strategy meeting, Welt had almost entirely lost his cool. He studies it.

You sit on his bed, the cushions and the sheets rumpled. You wear one of his over-sized button-up shirts (bought in the largest size possible precisely because Welt has always had a secret fantasy about this exact kind of image, and he had wanted to ensure it would fit no matter what size his eventual sweetheart had been) - the button placket undone, pressed either side of your body so that the curve of your chest is visible but nothing so louche as your nipples. The curve of your soft tummy visible; the hem of the shirt barely brushing the lushness of your thighs. Your arms squeeze your chest together, one finger innocently resting on your lower lip--

It's an image designed to seduce him through and through, and Welt is utterly entranced. A huff of hot breath escapes him as he gazes at you.

It won't matter, will it? His hand floats down to the front of his trousers without him really thinking things through. Of course, it's embarrassing that he needs to, but far more embarrassing would be going back out there with his cock tenting the front of his pants--

His trousers and underwear are pushed down to around his thighs. He gasps as he takes a firm grip of his cock, eyes not focusing on anything but your body - the memory of your soft curves pressed against him, the sight of your skin teasing him . . .

He flicks over to the next image with the thumb of the hand holding his phone.

This one is far more obvious in intent.

The shirt has fallen entirely from your body, revealing the peak of your nipples beneath; the curve of you that Welt knows fits so perfectly in his calloused hands. Too, your thighs have moved - to spread apart; the camera perfectly capturing the space between your thighs. That would perhaps have been enough to drive a man mad on its own, but your hand has also changed position - no longer toying seductively with your pretty mouth, but two fingers spreading the petals of your sex apart so Welt can see the way the wetness glimmers on your poor unplundered folds in perfect clarity.

He slides his fist over his cock, teasing his head with his thumb, wishing upon fervent wish that it was your cunt he was buried in and not his own hand.

This one has an accompanying text message, too.

I wish you were here to do this for me ;_;.

A few moments later - that must have been the chirp he heard when he locked the bathroom door--

My fingers don't feel as good as your cock does, Mr Yang </3.

Welt is shaking with want. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he continues to work his hand over his cock, as he strokes himself and thinks of you and all of your sweetnesses and virtues.

Another chirp.

[You have received [1] video clip]

Well.

If he's going to hell anyway--

He swipes along to view it.

Oh. The video starts automatically, and Welt is glad that he keeps his volume on low at all times. He hears your soft little moans like they are a jolt directly to his nervous system; every cadene and whine as familiar as his own hand. It's clearly been a little harder to film a whole video than to take a few images, but . . . Welt appreciates the view even so, as he sees your fingers delve in and out of your cunt. The way your wetness drools out around the digits, the slick plunging noises - the way your other finger toys with your nipples, pinching them--

(You'd told him one, cheeks hot, you could hardly come without them being touched, now - not when Welt so often tugs at them with his teeth, pinches them between his big fingers until you whine for him and come on his cock in tandem with his ministrations).

You cry out his name, back arching, and Welt recognises the trembling line of your body, the way you seem to pull in towards yourself and then let it go again. You come for him, on his tiny phone-screen, and it makes him ache and rage and long that he can't be there for you to kiss you through your orgasm and kiss your sweat-slicked forehead and tease your over-sensitive folds--

(You're always so, so sensitive. The brush of his fingers after you've come makes you mumble and whine, burying your head into his shoulder, softly whimpering that 't-too much, M-Mr Yang-- Welt-- I c-can't--'. Of course, he knows that you both can and will . . . but the sight of you so utterly wrecked makes him flush with pleasure and pride even so).

Fuck.

Without thinking, he flips his thumb over the button for sending a voice memo. Watching the little audio track come up on screen, pulsing in time with his ragged breaths, he begins to talk to it as if he is speaking directly to you.

"Ah, sweetheart . . . what am I going to do with you?"

His voice comes out gritty and dark with barely repressed lust, his vowels and consonants dry. The constant slick of his hand working over his cock must surely be audible in the recording, but Welt could not care less.

"I miss you too - but darling, please, I was busy . . . did you know I had to excuse myself to the bathroom just so I could touch myself to those pictures? That video?" He groans, remembering the sight of you. He's breathless.

"Little vixen. You knew that you'd distract me, didn't you, hmm? You know I wish it were my cock inside of you and not your pretty little fingers . . . Fuck." He takes a moment to swear as the sound of your fingers plunging in and out of you fill his brain. His cock twitches in his grip. "You can't reach far enough, can you? Poor thing . . . Ah. When I get back, I'm going to pin you underneath me and work you open until you break--"

He imagines the way you'd swallow at that, the bob of your throat, the arousal that would cloud your lovely gaze. He grunts, groans, moans into the microphone of the little device.

"You're incorrigible, you know . . . I shouldn't leave you on your own. A few days without my cock and you become utterly shameless. Ah. I hope you'll make this up to me when I'm baa-aaack--"

At the thought of all the ways that you could 'make it up to him', Welt feels himself break. His cock twitches in his hand, a tightening low in his stomach, and then as sparks dance in his eyes he comes all over his fingers, spattering them with pearly drops of his release.

He stands there for a moment, breath heaving, glasses askew, cock out, as he presses 'send' on the audio recording.

Gathers his bearings.

After a few deep breaths, he's able to reach for something to wipe himself down with and clean up. He's able to control the rabbiting of his heart.

Rearrange his clothing. Wait for his cheeks to unredden.

He turns to the mirror to check there's nothing wrong with the rest of him, reaching to tug his glasses back into their proper place - and he realises something with a lurch of his stomach.

His glasses. The angle of his phone, when he had checked it. Your little picture - the reflection. The man sat directly opposite him - the Arbiter-General--

His phone chirps once more.

This time, the accompanying text is not from you.

Jing Yuan: You're very lucky your two companions seem rather innocent. You're not as deft as you think you are, Mr Yang. Jing Yuan: Pretty little finch you have there, though. Jing Yuan: What's their name?