#i had fun but the escalator part is not fun at all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boyfiechan · 1 month ago

Text

[21 Questions]

...or the one where your hot one-night stand gets trapped inside with you during a storm.

Notes: Romantic comedy brainrot meets “what if your one-night stand accidentally had boyfriend energy” vibes but dirty, I guess? Pretty much porn that pretends to have a plot. Bang Chan x Reader Content Warnings: AFAB reader, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, face riding, dry humping, dirty talk, question-based escalation, creampie. [8.1k words]

The rain is already loud when you wake up, but it’s the thunder that makes you sit up too fast—your body protesting with a dull ache and a rush of confusion and for a moment, you forget where you are, blinking against the soft light that filters through pale curtains stirred by wind. Then you remember the man lying next to you. The one with the tousled brown hair and the silver chain still clinging to his throat, half-buried beneath the white sheet he’d stolen most of in the night. Chris. His name floats up through the haze of sleep and lingering heat and half-faded memory, the syllables settling heavy in your chest and you’d meant for last night to be a clean break, something fleeting, something fun—but now it’s morning and the world outside is a mess of lightning and rising water and all exits, apparently, are blocked.

You shift carefully, pulling the sheet with you like it might shield you from the awkwardness of waking up next to someone you barely know, but Chris doesn’t look awkward at all. He looks like he belongs there, face still soft with sleep, lips parted just slightly like he’s caught in a dream he doesn’t want to leave, his hair is a disaster and his arm is slung over your pillow like he’d meant to hold you and missed. And maybe you’re still drunk on the way he’d touched you last night—like he already knew how you wanted to be handled, like he’d been reading your mind with every slow drag of his mouth over your skin, but now the tension is different, the air is heavy with the storm and something else you can’t quite name. Something not-so-temporary.

Chris groans softly when the thunder cracks again, brow creasing as he stretches, and you get a front row seat to the slow reveal of muscle and skin and that faint trail of ink on his ribs. He blinks up at you, eyes half-lidded and pretty brown in the gray light. What time is it? he asks, rough and warm and entirely too familiar for someone you just met. You shrug, reaching for your phone with fingers that are still trembling a little, not from fear, just the residual adrenaline of being alone in a house with a man who kissed you like he could rewrite your whole damn story if you let him. Does it matter? you murmur, holding up the screen. Storm’s not letting up. Roads are flooded. There’s a beat of silence, then Chris hums like it’s not the worst news he’s ever heard. Guess I’m staying for breakfast.

And it should be awkward, it should be that fumbling, clothes-on-backwards, this was fun kind of goodbye you’d practiced in your head but instead, Chris rolls out of bed like it’s his own room, scratching the back of his neck and scanning the floor for his shirt with a sleepy smirk. You got anything edible? Or are we on a strictly coffee-and-regret diet this morning? he asks, and you laugh, the sound surprising even you. There’s eggs. Maybe toast if the bread survived the humidity. You’re already pulling on one of your old t-shirts—something oversized and faded and absolutely not cute, but Chris gives you this once-over that makes you feel like you’re in silk as he follows you into the kitchen barefoot, steps quiet, and there’s still a weight to him that makes the room feel fuller somehow, like his presence bends the space around him just a little.

You move around each other clumsily at first, two strangers pretending you haven’t already seen each other naked, but it settles quickly into something easy, comfortable. You hand him a pan without thinking, and he flips it in one hand like he’s done this a hundred times. So what do you do, he asks, cracking eggs like a professional, when you’re not picking up mysterious men at bars and rescuing them from natural disasters? You shoot him a look over your shoulder, but your smile betrays you. I’m an illustrator, you admit. Freelance. Mostly book covers and concept stuff. He raises a brow, looking impressed. That explains the art on your walls. I thought you were just trying to seem deep. You bump your hip into his and he laughs—really laughs, head thrown back for a second, the sound warm enough to cut through the storm still howling outside.

Breakfast takes longer than it should, between the burnt toast and the failed attempt at pancakes and the way Chris keeps trying to juggle eggs when he thinks you’re not looking, the kitchen becomes a little world of its own—bright with laughter and low teasing and the kind of unspoken intimacy that feels like it’s been there longer than a single night. He sits at the table while you pour the coffee, fingers drumming on the wood like he can’t quite sit still. You know, he says, eyeing you over the rim of his mug, I was supposed to fly out today. Back to Seoul. Meetings, rehearsals. All that glamorous idol life crap. You glance out the window, as rain streaks down the glass in frantic patterns, wind battering the trees sideways. Storm says no, you offer, and he grins, like that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

You end up on the couch, legs tangled under a shared blanket, the empty plates abandoned somewhere behind you. The power flickers once, twice, and then holds and at some point, Chris had ducked into the other room to make a quiet call—checking on someone, just to make sure they were safe in the storm. It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it still made something in your chest ache a little and now, as he shifts beside you, arm grazing yours, it’s quieter—the kind of quiet that feels like waiting, like choosing. He doesn’t push, doesn’t lean in, but when he looks at you it’s soft and curious and a little cautious, like he’s wondering what this could be if it wasn’t just a one-night stand and a thunderstorm, and you don’t know either. But you like the way he watches the lightning like it’s a show, the way he turns toward you with that slow smile that’s more promise than performance. You don’t know if the roads will be clear tomorrow, yu don’t know if this will last past the rain but for now, there’s warmth, and coffee, and a very content Chris beside you like he’s meant to stay.

He eats like someone who hasn’t had a real meal in days, half-sleepy and quietly appreciative, the kind of silence that says more than any compliment could. Every so often he hums, low and pleased, like even the mediocre toast is some kind of hidden delicacy. I think... he mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, this might be the best breakfast I’ve had all year. You glance at him, one brow raised. That’s a low bar. He shrugs, grinning around his coffee mug. Yeah, well, my standards are shot. I live off protein bars and takeout most days. He says it casually, like it’s a joke, but something in his eyes dims around the edges and you file that away somewhere quiet in your chest.

Then he sniffs at the mug and makes a face, setting it down with a quiet sigh. Full disclosure? I don’t even like coffee. You blink at him, mid-bite. Then why drink it? He shrugs, sheepish and a little guilty, like a kid caught faking his homework. Felt like the kind of morning where I should be holding something warm. Thought maybe it’d make me look normal. He hesitates, then adds, Tea’s not any better, by the way. Tastes like regret. You laugh and offer, There’s juice in the fridge, but he just shoots you a slow smile and leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. Think I’ve had enough sweet stuff for one morning, and the line hangs there between you, light but deliberate, and when you arch a brow, he doesn’t take it back, just lifts his mug again like he didn’t say anything at all, even though you’re both still smiling into the silence.

The wind picks up again, another sharp gust rattling the windows, and the lights flicker like they’re considering betraying you. You look over your shoulder, half-expecting a blackout, but they steady as Chris catches your gaze, leaning forward on his elbows, bare forearms braced against the table. Scared? he teases, but it’s soft, more curious than mocking. Of the storm? you ask, tipping your head. Not really. I like it. Makes everything feel... slower. Like the world’s taking a breath. Chris watches you for a long moment, something thoughtful in the way his eyes trace over your face like he’s committing it to memory. That’s a nice way to put it, he murmurs. I think I forget how to slow down.

You end up back on the couch with two mugs of reheated coffee and a blanket that still smells faintly like clean laundry and the detergent your mom insists on mailing you in bulk as he lets you pick the movie, something old and a little ridiculous, more comfort than content, and by the time the opening credits roll, he’s already slid a little closer, his thigh pressed lightly against yours beneath the blanket. I haven’t watched a movie on an actual home couch in months, he admits, almost sheepish. Hotel beds don’t count. Too sterile, always feels like I’m trespassing. You look at him, really look, and for all the easy smiles and casual confidence, there’s something in the way he curls slightly inward, like he’s still waiting to be asked to leave.

So… what’s it like? you ask, tilting your head against the back cushion. Being you. Idol life. Cameras. Fans. Endless protein bars. He laughs, but it’s quieter now. It’s loud, he says after a pause. Even when it’s quiet. There’s always something. A performance, a deadline, someone waiting for you to screw up so they can clip it and post it out of context. His voice is calm, but you feel the weight of it, heavy and real between you. Don’t get me wrong. I love it. Music saved me, still does. But sometimes it feels like I forget who I am when the lights go off.

You nudge his knee with yours. And who are you right now? He glances at you, then away, like he’s not used to being seen like this—barefoot on someone else’s couch, coffee he doesn't even pretent to drink anymore in hand, weathered by rain and time and the strange intimacy of survival. Right now? he echoes, a little surprised. I’m… just Chris. I think. His mouth twitches, like he’s almost amused by the sound of his own name out loud in that context. Not Bang Chan, not leader, not hyung. Just… a guy who ate eggs in someone’s kitchen. You nod like that’s enough. Like it means more than it should. Well, you say, lifting your mug in a mock toast, cheers to Just Chris.

He bumps his mug against yours, eyes warm with something that looks a lot like gratitude as the movie plays on in the background, half-forgotten, and you both settle into the kind of silence that isn’t awkward—it’s tentative, sure, but there’s an unspoken agreement not to break the spell just yet. His arm ends up behind you on the backrest, not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the quiet hum of presence that anchors you in place and when your shoulders brush, neither of you pulls away.

You know, he says eventually, eyes still on the screen, I didn’t expect to like you this much. You blink, caught off guard by the blunt honesty. I mean, he adds quickly, the tips of his ears slighly pink, not that I thought I wouldn’t like you. But last night… it wasn’t supposed to turn into this. He gestures vaguely, encompassing the coffee, the couch, the storm still raging outside like a protective barrier between this moment and the rest of the world. It was just supposed to be one night. A good distraction. You swallow, unsure whether to laugh or let the weight of it settle. Yeah, you say. Me too.

But the way he’s looking at you now, like you’re not just a chapter break but maybe a plot twist—it makes something shift in your chest. Something dangerous and soft and utterly unplanned. So what happens, you ask quietly, if the storm doesn’t let up? He smirks, eyes flicking toward the window before turning back to you. Guess we'll keep distracting each other, he says, and his hand finally brushes yours beneath the blanket, fingers curling slightly like a question, and you don’t hesitate when you answer. You let him.

The movie drifts on in the background—some half-forgotten rom-com playing at half volume, all overly dramatic meet-cutes and orchestral swells that feel far too on-the-nose given the weight in the air, and the storm hasn’t eased. If anything, the wind howls louder now, rattling through the eaves of the house like it’s trying to crawl inside, but you’re warm, not just because of the blanket or the coffee or the body beside you—but because something is building. Slowly, unspoken, the kind of tension that hums under the skin like an electrical current, soft but insistent, curling into the spaces between breath and glance and word.

Chris shifts beside you, his arm still draped casually along the back of the couch, but you can feel the subtle change in his posture, how he’s turned slightly more toward you, how his knee now presses firmly into yours instead of just brushing. His fingers are close enough to yours that you can feel the heat from them, the faint tremble of restraint in the way he hasn’t closed that last inch of distance as you risk a glance, and he’s already watching you—not smiling, not teasing, just looking, slow and steady, like he’s memorizing again. Like he’s debating something he already knows the answer to.

You’re kind of hard to read, you know that? you murmur, letting your voice drop just a little, the edge of a smile curling at your lips. His brow lifts, intrigued. Yeah? Most people say I’m too easy to read. His voice is quieter now too, dipping into something husky, a little rough. Too open. You tilt your head, feigning thought. No… you give people just enough to make them think they’ve got you figured out. You feel bold now, watching his expression shift—curious, then interested, then something more primal flickering just under the surface. But there’s always something you’re holding back.

He leans in a fraction, close enough that you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek, and when he speaks again it’s low and deliberate. What do you think I’m holding back? And you want to be coy, want to toss back some flirty quip and pretend like your heart isn’t beating faster with every syllable that falls from his mouth—but the air between you is too heavy now, charged with something that feels inevitable as you shift to face him more fully, knees drawn up beneath the blanket, and he mirrors you, his hand finally brushing yours beneath the fabric—just a soft drag of knuckles, but it’s enough to send a little shock up your spine.

I think you want to touch me again, you whisper, the words slipping out before you can think better of them. But you’re trying to be good. Chris huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it—just tension, tightly wound and dangerously close to snapping. Yeah, he says, voice rougher now, throat working as he swallows. I’ve been trying real hard not to. And that admission, that little crack in his carefully controlled exterior, does something to you. You shift closer, just slightly, enough that your knees press between his, enough that the blanket slips a little off your shoulder and his eyes follow the movement like he’s been starving.

But you’re not that good, are you? you tease, soft and breathy, like you’re testing the line just to see if he’ll cross it. And then his hand is on your thigh beneath the blanket—slow and deliberate, fingers curling against bare skin where your oversized t-shirt rides up, he doesn’t rush, just drags his palm upward with agonizing patience, his eyes never leaving yours. Not even close, he says, and it’s more confession than warning. You shift into his touch, lips parting on a quiet breath, and the way he looks at you now it’s like the storm has moved inside the room, all pressure and heat and the dangerous thrill of surrender.

Still, he waits. That last sliver of distance remains, his lips close but not touching, his fingers warm but not daring yet, you can see it in his eyes—the way he’s giving you the choice, the way he’s already halfway gone if you want to meet him there and something about that restraint, that aching pause, makes your skin burn. Come here, you whisper, and that’s all it takes.

He kisses you like he’s been holding it back all morning, all night, maybe longer, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t do it now, he might never get to again, his hand slides up further, anchoring at your waist, pulling you into his lap with a fluid kind of urgency that still manages to feel careful. His lips are warm, a little chapped, but he moves like he knows exactly what you need, tongue teasing at the seam of your mouth until you let him in, until the taste of him floods your senses and you forget everything else. Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer, and he groans softly against your mouth, a sound that vibrates through your whole body.

The blanket falls away, and the storm outside rages louder but inside, the world narrows to the press of his body against yours, the slow grind of hips, the heat rising fast and thick between you like it’s trying to suffocate the space where words used to live. You don’t know where this is going, don’t know what happens after the rain. But you know how he kisses, you know the way his hand slides up the back of your shirt with reverence and hunger, how he breathes your name like a promise he hasn’t figured out how to keep yet. And right now, that’s enough.

His mouth breaks from yours with a reluctant drag, breath heavy against your cheek as his lips skim the edge of your jaw. The storm batters the world outside, wind clawing at the glass, but here, on this couch, wrapped in each other and the remnants of a morning that wasn't supposed to last, everything feels slow, thick with a new kind of tension. His hand has slipped beneath your shirt now, not urgent, but reverent, fingers tracing up your spine in slow, deliberate lines that make you shiver, thumb brushing the underside of your breast, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, but he stops there, teasing, waiting.

You know… he murmurs against your neck, punctuating the words with a lazy kiss just below your ear, ...we barely know anything about each other. You huff a breath that could almost be a laugh, tipping your head back to give him more access. Funny time to bring that up. His teeth graze your throat, the gentlest bite, and he smirks when you gasp. Just trying to be a gentleman, he says, all faux innocence while his other hand slides up the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles where your skin is most sensitive. Maybe we should get to know each other first. You know, before we really do this.

You glance down at him, raising a brow even as your hips shift against his lap, finding the heat of him through thin layers of cotton. What, you want to play 20 Questions while you’ve got your hand up my shirt? His eyes glitter with mischief. Twenty-one. Gotta keep it spicy. You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you settle more fully against him, legs straddling his hips now, thighs bracketing his as the blanket slips off entirely. Fine, you say, voice a little breathless as his hands find their way to your waist, thumbs dragging slow along your ribs. But I go first. He leans back slightly, arms resting along the couch, a picture of casual sin. Hit me.

What’s your biggest red flag? you ask, grinning as you slowly grind down just enough to watch his expression falter and Chris groans, head tipping back briefly before he looks at you from beneath heavy lashes. You’re evil. You just shrug, hips rocking against him, slow and tempting. Answer the question.

He exhales a laugh that curls low in his chest, fingers tightening at your waist. Okay… red flag? His tongue flicks across his bottom lip as he thinks, and your eyes follow the motion helplessly. I work too much. Like… too much. I disappear into it sometimes. Not great for relationships. There’s honesty in it, even as he slides one hand back under your shirt, thumb grazing the curve of your breast again, still not touching you fully, just circling around it like he’s trying to drive you crazy. Your turn. You shift, barely resisting the urge to lean into his hand. Hmm… what’s your question?

Chris hums, considering. Biggest turn-on.

You tilt your head, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him twitch before you answer, Confidence. Teasing. Someone who can make me laugh and lose my mind. You roll your hips again, slow and purposeful, and he curses under his breath. Your turn, he growls, hands sliding lower now, gripping your ass as he pulls you tighter against him. Better make it a good one.

What do you think I taste like? you whisper it near his ear, just to watch him shudder. His hands still on your body, eyes snapping to yours, suddenly darker as he swallows hard, fingers digging in just a bit. You want the honest answer? he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. Obviously.

Chris leans in, lips brushing yours without kissing, like he’s tasting the air between you. Like trouble. Like something I shouldn’t get addicted to but already am. His hand drags back up your thigh, higher now, brushing between your legs over your underwear, just enough pressure to make you gasp, but still maddeningly light. Like heaven with a little hell in it.

You clench your hands in the fabric of his shirt, breath catching as he rocks up against you, heat meeting heat through frustrating layers. Fuck, you whisper, hips stuttering. That’s not fair. He smirks again. I said I was bad at being good. You dip your head to his neck, biting lightly at the skin just below his jaw as you murmur, Then stop pretending and show me just how bad you can be. But Chris just chuckles, fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear before he stops again, teasing, waiting, torturing. Only if you answer the next one.

You groan. You’re the worst. He grins. Next question. What are you most afraid of right now?

And it’s unfair, how he can drop that kind of weight right when his fingers are slipping beneath your panties, how he can make you feel completely exposed even before he touches you properly as you blink, breathless, caught in the twist of sensation and honesty. Getting too close, you admit quietly. Wanting more than I should. He stills, his hand resting gently between your thighs now, no pressure, just presence as his gaze softens, searching your face like he’s looking for something hidden beneath all your teasing. Me too, he says. And then—finally, finally—his fingers move with purpose, and you stop thinking altogether.

His fingers move with an ease that makes you curse your own memory, like your body already remembers him, already trusts the rhythm, the pressure, the subtle curl of his touch. He’s slow with it, maddeningly so, dragging the pads of his fingers through your slick just to feel how wet you are before he even really does anything. Jesus, he murmurs, almost to himself, eyes dropping to where you’re straddled in his lap, shirt rumpled, underwear pushed aside, heat pressed tight to the bulge in his sweatpants. And you’re telling me we’re just getting to know each other? You roll your hips down against his hand and smirk. Exactly. I’m an open book, remember? But your voice catches at the end when one of his fingers slides inside you, slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as you clench around him with a broken little sound you wish you could play off as cooler than it is. Chris just grins, lazy and pleased, like he’s won something. Sure you are, sweetheart.

And then he fucking pauses again.

Just holds there, buried in you up to the knuckle like he’s content to keep you right on the edge of madness as you glare at him, lips parted, already shifting your hips for friction, but his free hand comes up to steady you at the waist. Nuh-uh, he warns, teasing. You’re the one who agreed to twenty-one questions. You’re not getting out of it just because your legs are shaking. You blink at him, somewhere between aroused and outraged. Are you seriously going to edge me over a quiz game?

Chris has the audacity to laugh, pressing another finger inside you with a slow, cruel twist that makes you forget what planet you’re on for a second. That’s question twenty-two, he says, voice all wicked sweetness. But I’ll allow it. You swear under your breath, grinding down again because two can play at this game. Fine, you bite out. Truth or dare. He raises a brow, interested. We’re switching formats?

Answer it. Chris smirks, lips dragging over your jaw as he pumps his fingers in a slow rhythm that’s almost enough, but not quite. Truth. You narrow your eyes at him. Who’s your embarrassing celebrity crush?

He laughs, really laughs, breathless and boyish and warm in a way that makes your chest ache through the haze of want. Jesus, okay, he says, eyes scrunched, still slowly fucking you with the kind of patience that feels like punishment. This is going to haunt me, but… it’s the girl from Scooby-Doo. The live-action one. Velma. You blink at him. You mean Linda Cardellini? He groans. Yes. The sweater, the glasses, the sass—don’t judge me. You’re laughing too hard to speak for a second, which becomes very inconvenient when his thumb brushes against your clit in a lazy circle that makes your laugh crack into a moan. Okay, you breathe. That’s fair. Honestly? Valid.

He leans in like he’s about to kiss you, but instead he whispers, Your turn, and curls his fingers just right, making your hips jolt forward against his palm. Would you rather, he says, clearly enjoying your ruined expression, have sex in a public place and get caught, or accidentally send your mom a sext? You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a wheeze. Oh my God, what kind of demon are you? He just grins, smug. Answer carefully. You’re half-laughing, half-dying as you try to think through the haze of building pressure between your legs, his thumb not letting up for a second. Okay, okay, public sex.

Getting caught. Bold, he says, watching your face tighten when his fingers thrust a little faster. That says something about you. You gasp, breath hitching hard in your throat as you press your hips forward again, unable to stop yourself. Shut up, you gasp, helpless. You knew I wouldn’t say mom sext. You set me up.

Guilty, he murmurs, kissing along your neck now, open-mouthed and warm. Next question. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever masturbated to? You freeze against him, eyes going wide. Oh my God.

C’mon, he coaxes, mouth curved into a devilish smile. I told you about Velma. Don’t leave me hanging. You hide your face in his shoulder, but he doesn’t let up with his fingers, still moving inside you, still making you gasp even through your mortification. Fine, you groan. There was this audio clip, some guy reading from a tax fraud legal deposition with a deep voice and—don’t look at me like that. It was weirdly hot, okay?

Chris actually chokes laughing, full-body shaking, but his hand never stops, and now it’s infuriatingly good, rhythmic and deep and filthy enough that you start to lose the ability to laugh along. Oh my God, he wheezes, still grinning. That’s incredible. That’s like, top-tier trivia material. He leans in again, brushing his nose against yours, watching you with heat and fondness in equal measure. You’re insane. I think I’m obsessed with you.

You open your mouth to answer, but your words melt into a strangled moan when he presses just right and your body clenches down around him, thighs trembling on either side of his hips as he watches you unravel with greedy eyes, his mouth hovering just over yours, breath mixing with yours as your orgasm shudders through you, sharp and wet and aching. Fuck, you whisper. You're the insane one.

You’re welcome, he whispers back, then kisses you like a man who plans on earning another twenty-one answers. Your breath is still shaky, ribs rising too fast under your shirt, your thighs quivering where they’re slung over his lap, and he hasn’t even pulled his hand away yet. His fingers are still inside you, slow and wet and fucking obscene, curling lazily like he’s not done teasing your body just yet, like he wants to feel every aftershock and memorize the way your walls flutter around him, greedy and overstimulated. And the worst part if you don’t want him to stop, not even a little.

Chris watches you with that smug curve to his mouth, but there’s something darker in his eyes now, hotter, hungrier, like the teasing has started to backfire on him too. You’re so easy to mess with, he murmurs, like it’s a compliment, like he’s impressed, his free hand comes up to brush the damp hair from your face, thumb stroking your cheek with a gentleness that doesn’t match the filth of his other hand. And you still owe me another question.

You laugh, breathless, hoarse, but defiant. You’re still playing the game?

Chris grins, slow and wicked. Don’t act like you’re not into it. Come on, next one. Or I stop. His fingers shift inside you, one last teasing thrust before he slides out completely, leaving you empty and aching. You glare at him, hips twitching forward on instinct. Okay, okay. You pause, breath catching as you readjust your weight in his lap, only now realizing how hard he is beneath you, thick and straining against his sweats, twitching under the press of your soaked panties.

Your brain short-circuits a little, but you recover fast. If you could only use your mouth or your hands during sex, never both again, which would you pick? Chris whistles low, eyes flicking down to your lips like he’s imagining either option in vivid, detailed color. Cruel one, he mutters, shifting beneath you just to feel more of your heat. But I’m gonna say mouth. There’s something about making a mess of someone with just my tongue. Something about control, seems like. His hands tighten at your hips as he leans up, lips grazing yours without committing to the kiss. And I think you like being teased too much for me to give that up.

You open your mouth to argue, or moan, but he silences you with a single, filthy swipe of his thumb over your clit, barely there, just enough to remind you who’s in charge of your pulse. You grip his shoulders to steady yourself, blinking down at him like you hate how much he knows you already. My turn, he says, voice low, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your ruined underwear and he doesn’t touch, just hovers there. What’s the dirtiest thought you’ve ever had about me? You stare at him, startled. We’ve only known each other, like, twelve hours. Chris raises an eyebrow. You’ve definitely had thoughts.

You look away, cheeks flushed, your body still warm from the orgasm and the press of his cock trapped beneath you. Fine, you mutter. It’s from this morning. When you were standing in the kitchen, still sleepy, shirtless… stretching like that. He smirks, already smug. And I thought about getting on my knees, you continue, forcing the words past your throat, and just pulling your sweats down while you were mid-yawn. Making you lean back against the counter and letting me suck you off before you even woke up properly. His jaw flexes, hands gripping your hips so tight it makes you whimper. Fuck, he breathes, almost like a warning. You trying to kill me?

You smile, dragging your hips slowly against his, grinding the slick heat of your core over the length of his cock through the fabric. I dunno. You said we’re getting to know each other. He groans, deep and broken, eyes fluttering closed for a second. Okay, he says. New rule. Every time you don’t answer a question honestly, I get to put my mouth somewhere new. You blink. That’s the punishment?

Chris slides his hands up your shirt in one slow motion, finally lifting it over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze drops to your chest, hungry and reverent as he leans forward, brushing his mouth against the swell of one breast before licking a slow stripe over your nipple. It’ll feel like a punishment soon, he says, dragging his teeth gently across the skin until you arch into him. Now ask me something hard. Your voice is trembling now. What’s your biggest kink?

Chris looks up at you, mouth still warm and wet against your skin, his eyes dark with intent. Praise, he says. Control. Watching you fall apart because you want to, not because I’m forcing you. He licks again, sucks a little now, and your fingers sink into his hair like you need to anchor yourself. And right now? he murmurs, pulling back with a soft pop. Hearing you beg. That might top the list. You swallow, completely undone, grinding harder now just to feel more of him, leaking through your panties onto the front of his sweats. Next question, he says, voice wrecked now. How many orgasms do you think I could pull out of you if we stopped playing and really got started? And suddenly, you don’t feel like teasing anymore.

You can’t even remember what number you’re on, somewhere past twenty-one and deep into uncharted territory, half the questions aren’t even questions anymore, just confessions and dares passed between kisses and breathless moans, your body curled around his like you’ve forgotten it wasn’t always yours to hold. Chris still got that look in his eyes, wild and focused, like he’s reading every flicker of reaction off your face, adjusting his touch with surgical precision and the game—if it can even be called that anymore—is just another way to keep you strung out on tension, anticipation, the high of not knowing what he’ll ask or do next. Okay, he says, voice low and almost tender as he kisses your thigh, lips trailing dangerously close to where you’re soaked through and twitching. Would you rather have me use my mouth and take my time, or let you sit on my face and lose control? You laugh, wrecked, hoarse, practically vibrating with need. Is that even a real question?

Answer it, he says, lips brushing the edge of your underwear like a threat. Or I’ll pick for you. You glance down at him, his face between your thighs, his eyes bright and dark at once and something about the way he looks like he wants to be overwhelmed by you makes the answer easy. Your face, you whisper. I wanna ride your face.

He hums, low, approving, and pulls your underwear down so slowly it’s practically cruel, dragging them down your legs like he wants to savor every inch of bare skin. You’re lucky I like the sound of that, he murmurs, kissing up your inner thigh, hands gripping your hips as you shift to straddle his face, heart pounding so loud it drowns out the storm still raging outside. He settles back against the couch cushions, eyes fixed on you, and his voice is husky when he says, Don’t hold back.

And then his mouth is on you, devouring you with a hunger so intense it makes you cry out, your fingers flying to his hair for balance as your thighs tremble on either side of his head. His tongue is everywhere, licking and sucking and circling your clit with a precision that has you shaking, gasping his name before the first full minute is up. He moans into you like he can’t get enough, like the taste of you is something he’s needed all fucking day, and when you grind down harder, chasing the heat, he just grips your hips tighter and lets you.

You lose yourself in it, completely. Your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as you rock against his mouth, every muscle in your body pulled tight with tension. Fuck, I—I can’t, you gasp, already close again, already ruined. You can, he growls against your cunt, the vibration of his voice shooting straight through your spine. You’re gonna come in my mouth, baby? I've got you. And when you do,it's shameless and desperate, thighs clamping around his head as your orgasm crashes over you, mouth open in a broken moan that echoes off the walls, raw and frantic as you ride it out against his tongue. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until you’re whimpering, until your body slumps forward with every nerve alight and his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

When you finally slide off his face, your legs barely work, and he’s panting beneath you, flushed, hair messy, lips glistening with you. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like he just won the fucking lottery. Still counting the questions? he teases, voice rough and hoarse and yu laugh weakly, collapsing into his lap with your chest still heaving. I think we passed twenty-one a long time ago. Chris leans in, kissing you deep, messy, filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before pulling back just enough to whisper, Then maybe it’s time we stop pretending it’s still a game.

It’s not a game anymore, but neither of you stops playing, even as he lifts you into his lap again, even as his hands drag across your waist and down your spine with a hunger that makes your skin burn, you’re still trading words, still throwing questions like gasoline on a fire that’s already too big to contain. What do you want me to do to you? he asks, voice low and rough as he kisses the edge of your jaw, lips dragging down your throat, chest, teeth grazing over the mark he left earlierl you breathe out something between a laugh and a whimper, fingers curling in the waistband of his sweatpants. Want you inside me. Deep. Slow. Until I can’t even remember what I was supposed to ask next.

Chris groans, like the words knock the wind out of him, and you barely get the chance to tug his pants down before he’s helping you, lifting his hips, cock springing free, thick and flushed and so hard it makes your breath catch in your throat. He wraps a hand around himself just to tease you, dragging his palm slowly along the length, the tip smearing precum across his skin, eyes locked on yours. You sure? he murmurs, voice tight with restraint. 'Cause I want you, but I’m not gonna last long if you keep looking at me like that.

You nod, almost dizzy with need, sinking your hips until the head of his cock catches at your entrance, slick and warm and perfect as you lower yourself onto him in one slow, devastating slide that punches a moan from both of you. Fuck, he hisses, head dropping back against the couch. You feel—holy shit—so tight. You clench around him on purpose, just to hear him swear again, and he thrusts up into you shallowly, hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear. Next question, you breathe, rocking your hips gently, letting him get used to the rhythm of you. If I told you to come inside me, would you?

Chris blinks at you like he can’t believe you said that, like the words physically affect him as his jaw flexes hard, and he thrusts up deeper, rougher, like you just snapped the last thread of his restraint. Don’t say that unless you mean it, he growls, voice raw. Because if you tell me to, I will. I’ll fill you up so deep you feel it for days. Your next breath stutters as he hits that spot again, as your walls flutter around him, your body already trying to pull him deeper. You’re insane, you gasp. And I might be worse.

Another question, he says, burying his face in your neck as he thrusts again, slower now but harder, making your whole body jolt with every movement. If I told you I wanted to fuck you on every surface in this house before the storm ends, what would you say?

You laugh—moan, really—your fingers digging into his shoulders for balance. I’d say you’d better start with the kitchen counter and work your way through the rooms alphabetically. He groans, the sound almost broken, and his hands slide down to your ass, guiding your hips as you bounce on his cock with slow, grinding rolls, the kind that drag every inch of him through you with a rhythm that borders on cruel. Fuck, he mutters again, kissing your shoulder, your collarbone, your mouth. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.

Maybe it’s the storm, maybe it’s the heat between your bodies or the way your souls feel too close already, but the words don’t scare you, they anchor you, drive you forward. Then show me, you whisper, lips brushing his. No more holding back.

And he doesn’t. He flips you onto your back on the couch with a roughness that makes you gasp, cock slipping free for only a second before he’s guiding himself back inside you in one hard, smooth thrust that makes your eyes roll back and he fucks you, slow, deep, rhythmic, his body pressed tight to yours as his hands roam everywhere at once. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do after this? he pants into your ear and you laugh, legs wrapped tight around his waist. Probably pass out.

Wrong answer. He pulls almost all the way out, waits for you to open your eyes again, then slams back in. Try again. Your head spins. Shower, you choke out. With you. Maybe round two against the wall if you're strong enough. Chris grins, breathless, sweat dripping from his brow as he picks up the pace. Better. He kisses you hard, messy, tongues tangling, and he swallows your next moan when he grinds in deeper, just to feel the way your body clenches around him. Your turn. Ask me something, he says. Hurry. Before I make you come so hard you forget how to speak. You’re already close again, body arching, nails dragging down his back, but you manage to gasp, What’s your favorite part of me?

He thrusts deep and stills, buried to the hilt, his cock twitching inside you, his voice shaking when he answers. Right now? This. His hand slides down between you, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing slow, tight circles. But if you mean really... he leans in, kisses the corner of your mouth, his voice going soft even as his thrusts turn sharp again. It’s the way you look at me, like I’m already yours.

And then he makes you come again, loud and trembling, your body clenching so hard around him that he groans and follows you seconds later, spilling into you with a long, broken sound that feels like surrender. You cling to each other through it, hips still twitching, mouths still searching, and somewhere between the kisses and the breathless laughter, you realize you stopped counting the questions a long time ago.

The world is soft when it settles, like the storm outside finally gave up, like the air around you folded into something warm and quiet and real. Your bodies are tangled on the couch, skin damp and flushed, still pressed together in the kind of closeness that feels more like a conversation than anything you’ve said out loud and he hasn’t moved much, still half on top of you, head buried in the crook of your neck, one arm slung heavy over your waist. His breathing is slow now, steady, like he’s trying to memorize the rhythm of your heart with his cheek against your chest as you trail your fingers lazily through his hair, feeling the way his curls cling to your skin with sweat and time, and somewhere in the mess of it, you smile.

Hey, you whisper, voice raw, your throat a little ruined from all the gasping and laughing and moaning. If you had to rank that on a scale from one to ten— Chris groans, shifting just enough to lift his head and glare at you, but the edge doesn’t stick, he’s too blissed-out for sarcasm. Don’t make me throw you over this couch and do it again just to prove a point.

You snort, brushing a kiss against his temple. So… eleven? He sighs dramatically, flopping back beside you, arm still wrapped tight around your middle as he turns his head to look at you. His eyes are soft now, still playful, still glowing with that dangerous charm, but slower, gentler. I stopped counting, he says. Somewhere around the time you said you wanted to ride my face. Everything after that was just… instinct.

You laugh, a real one, breathless and a little unhinged, your hand sliding across his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palm. So what happens now? you ask, and you don’t mean for it to sound so honest, but there it is, naked between you. Storm’s still going, you’re still technically trapped here. Chris glances toward the window as the rain still lashes against the glass, wind howling down the alley like it’s not done being dramatic. He hums softly. Guess we’re stuck with each other.

Tragic.

Devastating. He nudges your thigh with his knee, smirking. We could watch something. Recharge. Maybe eat something that doesn’t involve my head between your legs. You fake a groan, tossing an arm over your eyes. Boring.

Okay, fine. He laughs, twisting to kiss your bare shoulder. But only if you ask me another question. You peek at him from beneath your arm, grinning. Why are you still here? He goes still for a second, the quiet between you deepening, thick with something unspoken and his voice lowers, more serious than you expect. Because this didn’t feel like a one-night thing.

Your breath catches, soft and small but he hears it, because of course he does. You roll onto your side to face him, his arm adjusting to keep you close. Yeah, you say, quieter now, eyes searching his. It didn't. For a while, neither of you says anything as the storm rolls on outside, wind still battering the windows, but it feels far away now, like the noise can’t touch this, can’t reach whatever this bubble is you’ve both fallen into. Chris shifts, brushing hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek with the same tenderness he used hours ago, when everything was still new and charged and uncertain.

And then he smilesl soft, a little shy. New rule, he says. Every time we see each other… we have to play twenty-one questions.

You raise an eyebrow. We suck at keeping count.

Exactly, he murmurs, kissing your forehead like a promise. That’s how I’ll know it’s working.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan thoughts #bang chan hard hours #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan smut #chan hard thoughts #skz smut #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #bang chan headcanons #chan smut #stray kids smut

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talaok · 9 months ago

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Old Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel needs glasses but won't admit it, and there's only an amount of teasing a man can take before he decides to show you just how much of an old man he is.

warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, hair pulling, (joel gets a lil rough)

Ellie was the one to start it all,

I mean it's not like you hadn't noticed, but she was the one that started with the jokes.

Not very honorable of you to blame it all on the 14 year old, you knew... but still, just to get the record straight, you weren’t the one to tease him first.

“Gimmie Granpa” she had chuckled one time, grabbing the piece of paper where Maria had written down the recipe for her 'world-famous' casserole from his hands.

"Hey-" He'd protested,

"You can't see shit, man" she giggled, "Stop trying to fight it- you're getting old buddy"

And well from then on things had... escalated.

You'd yet to see a day where the poor man wasn't made fun of because of it, but truth be told, he really did need glasses.

You'd even suggested it to him more gently, in the comfort of your own room, away from Ellie's prying eyes.

"y'know baby, there's nothing wrong with getting glasses"

He'd looked at you as if you'd just told him to go fuck himself.

"Don't look at me like that" you'd smiled, rounding the bed to intertwine your hands behind his neck "It's for your own good"

"I don't need glasses"

"no?" you'd bit down a grin "you sure?"

"'m sure alright" he grumbled

"I bet Tommy would know where to get you a pair if you asked"

"darlin'"

"yes, baby?" you'd asked, hopeful

"I don't need 'em"

And you really did want to keep on trying to convince him, but then he'd kissed you and well- it must have slipped your mind.

Unluckily for him, not for a very long time.

He was in the bathroom, trying, or more specifically struggling, to open a bandaid for your injured finger.

It wasn't anything serious, just a little cut, but as you'd disinfected it, he'd insisted on covering it up, only of course you hadn't expected it to take so long.

"Baby, what's wrong, you can't find them?"

But the answer to your question was right before you as you entered the bathroom.

As I said, he was struggling.

A laugh bubbled up your throat as you took in his focused expression, the frown on his forehead, the squint in his eyes...

"Let me do it"

"No I can do it I just-" he tried to get it open again, failing miserably.

"Joel-" you smiled, walking up to him "let me" you said softly

And with a sigh, he surrendered, handing you the poor, tortured bandaid

"I could have done that" he grumbled as he watched you do it in a split second.

"Sure you could, old man" You grinned to yourself, carefully applying the bandage to your finger.

"What did you just say?"

A soft, breathless gasp fled your mouth-

He'd moved right behind you, and his hands were now on your waist.

"Jesus babe" you laughed,

"What did you say?"

His voice was rough, and his eyes... something had shifted behind his eyes.

You watched his reflection in the mirror before you as you answered

"I said I'm sure you could"

"Mhh" he hummed, his head lowering until he could dive into your neck and inhale your scent "The other thing"

"what other thing?" you feigned innocence, enthralled by his demeanor, by the almost predatorial look in his eyes

"You know what"

"no I don'-"

But you didn't have time to finish, he'd already grabbed you by your hair, pulling your head back until his mouth was ghosting yours

"you called me an old man, darlin'?"

He was a different man from a minute ago.

This was the Joel Miller people feared, the one that killed without remorse, the one that fucked you rough- the once that a sick and twisted part of you revered.

"Baby I was jokin-"

"didn't look like it" he growled, his clothed hard-on pressing into your ass making you whimper, "you think I'm an old man, babydoll?" he murmured, his grip tightening around your hair "I'll show you how much of an old man I am"

Next thing you knew, your upper body was flushed against the sink's countertop, and your shorts were at your feet, together with your panties.

You watched from the mirror as he freed his cock with the hand that wasn't holding you down, and then you felt it-

"will you look at that" he chuckled darkly, the tip of his dick sliding between your folds with ease "you're makin' a mess for an old man, babydoll"

"J-Joel" you whimpered

"no no darlin'" he cooed "You've brought this on yourself- now you're gonna be good and take it, alright?"

When you didn't respond, he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him through the mirror

"alright?" he bent down, growling in your ear

"y-yes"

"try not to be too loud," he whispered "You wouldn't want people to know how much you like getting fucked by an old man"

You had no time to respond, to tell him how much you didn't care, because he'd already pushed himself fully inside of you, and the only thing you could do was scream.

"you can't help yourself can ya?" he muttered, watching your face contort in all sorts of bliss-induced expressions "The old man gives it to ya too good, 's that it?" he groaned, feeling your walls squeeze around him

"look at me" he ordered, pulling your hair again, making you open your eyes and watch him as he ruthlessly slammed inside of you "Look at the old man who's fuking you, darlin', don't be rude" he grinned

The sound of his skin against yours reverberated through the bathroom, and god it was nasty.

"f-fuck" you tried to speak, tears tarnishing your vision

"I know, I know" he pretended to care, getting up from where he was pressing his torso onto your back, using a hand to get you to remain flush against the sink "I'm going too slow, ain't I?"

Oh shit

Oh fucking shi-

If you thought he was going hard before... you hadn't seen anything.

You couldn't fully create one single thought in your mind as he picked up his pace, as he started literally slamming into you fast and hard enough to break you in half.

"I'm jus' an old man after all babydoll, ain't I?" he breathed, one hand still on your back while the other was still forcing your head up to look at him "You'll understand if I can't fuck you as hard as you'd like" it was like he wasn't hearing how loud you were moaning, how breathless your whines and gasps where each time his dick hit your cervix "what's that?" he mocked "you need it harder darlin'?"

"J-Joel-" you whined, begging, pleading for what you weren't even sure

"shh I got you baby" he cooed, bending down to whisper in your ear again, slowing down his pace just to thrust so fucking deep and hard into you you swore you saw stars "I know my old man's pace ain't enough for you doll"

But it was- Oh it was more than enough.

And yet he didn't care- he was going even harder, even faster, even deeper, and you... you didn't even remember your name anymore.

You could feel the thickness of his cock as it slammed into you over and over and over again, the way it would hit the most hidden spots inside of you, the ones only Joel had only ever been able to find, and then-

And then you could hear his grunts and strangled groans as he fucked you within an inch of your life, as his hair fell to his forehead and tears streamed down your face and your eyes struggled to remain open, struggled to keep on watching him as he fucked you from behind with enough force to break the fucking sink you were on.

Until it got to be too much, until you felt your stomach tighten and the fuse lighting, until he hit that secret spot once again, and all you could do was close your eyes as bliss took over your body, as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

"look at you" he groaned "coming all over an old man's cock" he breathed, your walls squeezing him too good to do anything else but follow suit "letting an old man come deep inside of ya"

It took a long moment for either of you to wake up from the sex-induced haze, but Joel was in much better shape than you, so it was him who came back earlier.

he begrudgingly pulled out, enjoying for a moment too long his own handy work before he helped you up, picking you up bridal style once he realized how useless your legs had become.

"baby" you murmured, before he could place you on the bed "You know I was joking right?" you said, leaning up to kiss him, your mouth catching his in a sweet, gentle kiss that contradicted completely the way he'd just ruined your ability to walk properly

"You're not an old man" you promised

"mh?" he hummed, kissing you again just because he could

"yeah" you smiled, melting into the kiss for what felt like an eternity

He was holding you gently, watching your eyes as they begged to close.

"good" he hummed against your mouth, watching it twist into a devious little smirk as a spark ignited in your eyes

"Although I still think you should at least consider getting glasses-"

"darlin'" he stopped you immediately "I suggest you stop talkin''"

"or what?" you bit down a grin, laughing softly

"Or Tommy's gonna be real mad when you tell him you can't make it to patrol tomorrow 'cause your legs don't work"

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bambisnc · 6 days ago

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𝖷𝖮 ♡ use me, i'll be your genie

❪ ➴ ❫───엔하이픈; asking them to teach you how to kiss

ft. bsf!OT7 % hcs + 1.5k (180+ per member) && w. kiss talk ˖ ✧

♡ [ 1-800-XO HOTLINE ] : new layout #bless ++ no one talk to me ab this for 3 business days. but i do personally LOVE how this turned out icl

🔗. 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝘍i𝖫𝖤 ᰈ̠ 𝖭𝘈𝖵𝗂𝖦𝘈𝖳𝖤 ✮

이희승 — ❪ LEE HEESEUNG ❫

౨ৎ as soon as he hears you casually bring up the question—a simple “so will you do it?”—heeseung responds with a flat out refusal. nope. no way. nuh-uh.

it’s not like he particularly hates the idea of kissing you, hell, he’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a few (or slightly more than that) times.

but … past experiences have made it plenty clear that the thin line between friendship and something more is delicate. one wrong move, one wrong act, and the entire dynamic could crumble.

when you huffily tell him to forget about it, wanting to keep some face, he immediately protests.

“no wait! just... don’t ask anyone else to do it. if—if it has to be someone, i’d rather it be me.”

before the sentence is even finished, he’s closing the gap between you; hands cautious, touch careful.

heeseung’s lips brush against your jaw first, dipping slightly to the plane of your neck before tracing their way back up. if he has to do this he’ll do it right.

your breath catches and he pulls back, just barely, before looking at you to ask if you really want this. you can only hope the way your hands rest on his shoulder are enough to convey your yes.

zero palpable hesitation, his kiss drips with confidence. like he has a point to prove. like he’s decided that if you are crossing this line, it might just have been waiting for you both all along.

⋅ ˚ ଳ ₊ ‧ others utc

박종성 — ❪ JAY PARK ❫

౨ৎ with one too many jabs about your "inability to pull bitches" and your "lack of rizz" from him, you will definitely be regretting your question within 10 minutes, tops.

because of course jay’s first reaction would be to make fun of the fact that you actually have to stoop to the level of asking him for help.

you try to huffily leave the rooftop at least thrice but he just laughs and tugs you right back to him by your sleeve.

before you know it, almost as if he hadn’t spent the last half an hour now teasing you unrelentingly, he casually leans in.

shifting closer so imperceptibly that you don’t even notice at first, eyes skimming over your features, unreadable smirk ever present as he angles your chin towards him—mumbling a quick “no time like the present, yeah?”—and then he kisses you.

no warning. no build up. just his mouth on yours, his touch patient but deliberate, with him simply choosing to allow his gentle actions to ease you into it.

somehow, the silence letting you get lost in the moment is worse.

심재윤 — ❪ JAKE SIM ❫

౨ৎ when what jake had originally imagined to be an ordinary study session at the library, ends up with you having him pressed up against one of the shelves, he really can’t be blamed for his flustered reaction.

okay, so sure, maybe blushing and bursting into laughter right in your face at you asking him to teach you how to kiss wasn’t the most appropriate response. so, sue him.

and fine, maybe you didn’t mean to let it escalate this much. he’s now visibly bothered, ears pink, and hands twitching awkwardly by his sides. “y-you’re serious about this? really? i just thought—”

you weren’t serious. you swear it. you really only meant to tease him. but then his wide eyes fluttered down to your lips once, twice, and... really how could you be expected to stop after that?

“d'you still find this funny?” you can’t help but murmur, voice barely more than a whisper.

he just stares at you, mouth slightly parted, like he has something to say. you see the exact moment he decides to lean in—tentative, a movement laced with anticipation.

and that’s exactly when you pull back.

“guess you’ll have to take this more seriously next time.”

and then you’re walking off, leaving him standing there—flushed, stunned, and definitely no longer laughing.

박성훈 — ❪ PARK SUNGHOON ❫

౨ৎ winner of the most nonchalant award !! you need help practicing how to kiss? sure. what else are best friends for?

he promises he’ll only be slightly cocky about it. “if you wanted to kiss me all you had to do was ask.”

“i don’t,” you’d shoot back, but the way he has to hide how the corner of his mouth quirks up, shows that he clearly doesn’t believe a word.

you ramble on a little about how this is just to familiarize yourself with the entire process, how it’s overrated and not even that deep—like why does a “first” kiss even matter? it’s literally just a kiss.

all sunghoon responds with is an easy “sure.” like you asked him the time. “c’mere.”

no teasing, no embarrassment. his hands are comforting at your waist and the kiss is slower than you expect. more cautious. when he pulls back, his voice is low, even. too even.

“there you go. you’re not half bad.”

he seems nonchalant, sure, yet... the faint red on his features tells a completely different story.

김선우 — ❪ KIM SUNWOO ❫

౨ৎ “you’re joking, right? Right?.”

sunoo stands up—he did always have a thing for dramatics—like he needs to have free range of motion to be able to process what you just said.

“you,” his fingers points accusingly like you’ve committed a grave sin, “want me,” finger pointing back at his own now pacing figure, “to teach you how to kiss?!”

his conviction is so strong that you almost believe in the sacrilege yourself.

you eventually interrupt him with an airy mention of just "dropping it" because you can always ask someone else.

“do you even know,” he gasps at that, “how easily people could literally take advantage of you if you walk up to them and say that??”

you snort, brushing him off. you’re confident, positive that you can handle yourself.

but when he moves next you hardly expect him to crowd into your space, pinning you against the bed you’d been lazily lounging against.

his lips ghost over yours, not touching but close enough that you can feel the words he says next before you hear them. “confident huh? i guess we’ll see how well you handle this, then.”

safe to say … lesson learnt. (maybe.)

양정원 — ❪ YANG JUNGWON ❫

౨ৎ finding yourself alone on classroom cleaning duty is usually plenty boring. it’s only natural you’d have … some interesting thoughts to distract you from the mundanity of the chore.

but thankfully, your best friend happens to be suffering on duty with you too! what better way to pass time than a quick chat with him?

so when you half jokingly bring up the idea you don’t really expect anything to come out of it.

and the surprisingly positive response you get is, if nothing else, a tad bit unexpected. jungwon almost seems to be a little too thrilled at the prospect. “so,” his face is carefully neutral, but years of knowing him have made you rather familiar to that knowing sparkle in his gaze, “this would purely be for educational purposes?”

you nod, still half thinking this is just hypothetical. he nods back in response.

he moves slowly, like he has all the time in the world, like this is something he doesn’t even have to think twice about.

you find your face cupped in both his hands and all your follow up questions silenced as he presses kiss after kiss to your lips, unorganized desks remaining forgotten.

"i'd hate to get in the way of proper learning, after all." is his only explanation as he lets you up for air (much) later.

西村力 — ❪ NISHIMURA RIKI ❫

౨ৎ it’s actually him who jokingly brings it up.

some offhand comment about first kisses tasting like lemons. when you admit you wouldn’t know, considering you haven’t had yours, he pauses. almost as if considering the logistics of what he’s about to say.

to fill the silence, you add a “you could teach me, you know.” not meaning anything by it at all.

but you can only blink when in a tone that is way too assured he says, “i could.”

“…huh?”

ni-ki has the gall to shrug at that, eyes glued to whatever 2000’s cheesy romcom you’d picked out earlier that evening. he insists you should get some ‘real experience’ and that it’d be a disservice to society (i.e., all the boys you could potentially date in the future) not to help you out.

one would think he's doing you a public service by how much he talks it up.

you roll your eyes, deciding to play along. if he wants to take the joke this far, you might as well get some fun out of it.

naturally, his only way to deal with your unserious attitude is to prove his point.

one short kiss melts into two, three, four—you end up losing count. and frankly, you couldn’t be bothered one bit about it.

his thumb brushes against your slightly swollen lips, stopping you when you chase after his own again, and you almost hate how he seems so composed.

“don’t overthink it.” he says, sealing the words with one last kiss to your forehead, a complete contrast to the earlier rushed ones, “i’ve got you.”

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit @douqhnxtss @soona-huh @amoressb @nicholasluvbot @manariee @rinrinninnin @ddeonuswife @douqhnxtss @lovenha7 @amatabelle @i-am-not-dal @liyahhhh620 @elleetlalune @eunwonji @s0shroe @wensurr ⋆

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sordidmusings · 3 months ago

Text

Between Two Points - Ace

Art from the doujinshi Torch by NINEKOKS

Summary: You and Ace have had a ✨thing✨for a good while now so sharing a bed wasn’t strange for you. It was, however, absolutely tormenting Ace, who couldn’t keep his mind from every time you’ve touched. You wake up to find him wanting. You thought you could keep things quick and fun but they just keep on escalating. Especially when he begs to be inside you for the first time.

A/N: oh how Ace has haunted me, especially while writing this lol he’s one of my top favs so brain said we extra need to do him justice 👏 pretty happy with the smut but I’m most happy with the ending scene - I wanted it to be sweet and silly and so very Ace. Part of the Between Two Points series (“just the tip” shots for separate charas)!

Warnings: nsfw, Implications of inexperience (Ace), first time together, sleepy sex (at first lol), subby Ace, he begs and thanks you like a lot, he calls you “pretty” as a pet name, praise kink both ways, emotionally fragile Ace, I didn’t mean for that to come out but he demands it, I just wanna shower him in love and validation until he Understands, until then he gets some pussy, multiple orgasms (for both yayyyyy), overstimulation on Ace, probably cumflation, definitely my obsession with men fighting not to cum, you make him suck the mess off your fingers, aftercare, silly banter to soothe the soul, fem!reader - kept it basically gn but then an old lady joke called to me at the end whoops

Word Count: 10.2k

Come get a serving of that soup ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

“If you see your daydreams in me, they'll not lack

What's been weighted in me, I'll make you quake with reason

I can feel your knees sinking into the bed

Searching in my dark eyes to break what’s been said

There’s a wake of grace, hunting your soreness down

There's a light in my skin that's been dimmed

I'mma dig you up and give you what I took

Pull you up and tuck you in and make you look

I'ma smooth your shoulders down and calm what's shook

It was all forlorn, if only for a season

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you”

“Can something like this be pulled

From under our feet?

Leaving our skin

And burning coals to meet

Tell me now

The shortest distance

Between two points

Is the line

From me to you”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Ace still can’t believe you’re in the same bed. Every step into intimacy he’s taken with you leaves him shocked and stumbling. He’ll keep tripping after you forever though because, gods, it’s you. You’ve done a hundred and one things to impress him in emergency and battle, to take his breath away with how you decorate yourself, to make him and others watch on in awe at your skills. Though, all of that pales in comparison to the simple act of you being you. You, who wormed your way into his mind with your quirks and open-minded talks. You, who could light up his body with a simple look, a tender touch, a loving smile. You, who took hold of his heart with your patient kindness and understanding.

You, who is currently keeping him up with the delicious turmoil of holding you so close.

This is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. Now, you’ve done plenty of other things together, so Ace hadn’t thought that it would be such a big deal. When it hit him that he was really going to be falling asleep cuddled up to you, something so affectionate and domestic, his heart pumped an extra hard beat to wash tingles under his skin. He had thought the flush of excitement would peter off into comfort and contentment. To be fair, a part of it did. The problem is that the other part began incessantly bombarding him with thoughts of everything you could be doing in the bed besides sleeping.

His past experience with you is only making it harder where he thought it would ease his nerves at being close. The sweet or heated kisses you’d grab him to steal only make his lips lonely at their memory. The spark in your eyes as your kisses move southward haunts him and keeps his dick twitching pathetically against your thigh. The echoes of times he got to be the one with his head between your legs, smothering himself in the heady taste and smell of you, has him biting back whimpers. Fuck, he’s aching and flushed and desperate and all you’re doing is sleeping in his arms. He feels guilt creep in.

This should be enough. He shouldn’t be laying here wishing for more of you while you’re already so sweetly snuggling into his chest, offering him trust and affection. Holding you while you’re at your most vulnerable should sate him. Feeling how soft and warm you are with your weight sinking the two of you together should ease him to rest. Yet his mind keeps reminding him of the last time your weight was pressing on him, leaving him equal parts wound up and embarrassed.

As usual, you had been tapped right into when he needed you to escalate things but felt he didn’t have the right to ask. All day he’d been hovering around you, a hand always on arm or shoulder and eyes always ready to jump to you. He was chasing at your heels when you waved for him to follow you so you could settle him with some attention. He was pawing at you the moment your lips touched, moaning at the first rub of tongues, grinding right when you pressed deeper into him.

Soon he was on the floor with you on his lap, your palms pressing your weight into his heaving chest and your hips working him over. He flushed an even deeper shade of pink when you told him how pretty he looks. The thought of it has his cock jumping even now, and he struggles to keep from grinding up into your lower stomach. He can feel a hint of your mound at the base of his cock, begging him to press harder to tease himself with your plush heat and the firmness of your pelvis underneath. Knowing your clit was hiding right there against him - in easy reach for him to make you squirm with pleasure, make such pretty pretty noises, think of nothing else but how good he’s making you feel - chips away at his resolve.

The memory continues with the feeling of his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, caught between pulling you faster and shoving you off because he felt all too close to his end for a grown man who hasn’t even gotten his pants off yet. You were even still fully clothed but didn’t seem to pay that any mind as you circled and ground yourself on the hard cock trapped in his pants. Even with the layers, he felt how hot your cunt was getting, burning even more against him than your mouth when it took to painting a path through his freckles from cheeks to chest. When you took breaks to grind slowly over him, he felt the little moment where your hips slid before your clothes followed, delayed by you slipping through your own wetness first. His eyes rolled back at the fact that using him got you soaked and that out of everyone you chose him to sit your drooling pussy on.

With that thought and his grinds chasing you back, he felt his balls pull taught and his cock pound dangerously.

No, fuck, he hasn’t even made you cum - his clothes, fuck, he’s still in his clothes you, can’t see him cum in his pants like some pathetic boy, no nonono-

“Please,” Ace gasped out, using all his will power to still his hips and keep them pressed to the ground, “I’m- I’m too- please -hhah- you’re just so- fuck! Please, baby.” He was panting the words between moans, trying to find enough strength to hold your hips still. “Just s-slow down, I’m -nnnngh-” You just smiled devilishly down at him and kept picking up the pace. He grit his teeth and arched his head back, “I’m so fucking close- ah!”

He hides his face in the pillows and your hair even as the praises you had showered him in echo in his ears while he holds your sleeping body. His own painfully awake body shivers while he thinks of how hard he came, how each pump had felt like overwhelming bliss trapped against your heat and to the tune of your voice. It has him grinding against you before he can even think and sighing out in relief at a little bit of the touch he needs.

“Ace?”

Your sleepy mumble makes him freeze, every muscle taught like he grabbed a live wire.

“Why are you awake, honey?” The genuine concern in your sleep-thick voice only makes him feel worse. You try to lift your face from his chest, but a hand on the back of your head traps you there. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he swallows, hoping to trap the stutter back down. “Don’t worry - go back to sleep.”

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head and scratches your scalp to try and settle you. It works for a moment and he relishes in the feel of your body relaxing back against him. That is, until you shift to the side and snuggle deeper. Your thigh brushes his obvious hard on and you both tense. He panics when he feels your eyelashes tickle his chest, letting him know your eyes flew open wide.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks miserably. He’s confused when he feels you smile against his skin.

“Ace, honey, are you enjoying sleeping with me?” Even with the sleepy tone, you manage to get a lot of smug teasing in your voice.

“Yes?” That wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You sure?” you prod. “You seem awful tense.”

You emphasize the last word with a firm press and rub of your thigh against his aching erection. His whole body shivers and a high sigh escapes him. His hands grasp you at hip and shoulder and he’s struck with the déjà vu of not knowing whether to drag you closer or make you stop.

You’re having no such struggle, happy to find him a wanting mess. You’ll never get over seeing the confident and playful air he parades around with slipping off to reveal something fragile and seeking when you touch him. Sure, he won you initially with that part of him, charming you to his side like every other moth drawn to his inherent light, trapping you there with all the others under his protection and love. Knowing what pieces can lie under that blaze only makes the show more fun to watch. Knowing someone so powerful, so magnetic, feels the same way for you? Shows you places they’re scared to let others see? It’s your greatest rush and most cherished responsibility.

“You’re perfect, honey,” you praise. He just barely bites back a whimper. “Did you know I was dreaming about you?”

“You were?” Ace sounds much more disbelieving than you’d like.

“Mhmm, I do it often.” Your voice softens with honesty. “You’re always on my mind.”

There’s a slight tremble to Ace’s hold on you. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has closed too tight for words to pass.

“I can prove it to you,” the flirtatious heat to your voice eases the fragile vulnerability away. Ace is yet again thankful for your sixth sense when it comes to his needs. Your thigh creeping its way over his leg and hips helps distract him from the pressure behind his eyes. You settle your leg when it’s resting centered on his sensitive head. The weight of your soft thigh easing down on him forces a shaky “hh-ah!” from him and he feels his face flush in embarrassment and need. You reward the sound with a kiss to his pec.

“Well?” you whisper. “Are you gonna check?”

“Huh?” Ace’s blood is all in the wrong head for him to understand anything but praise and orders. You giggle at him and it makes his dick jump against your thigh.

Taking mercy on him, you grab the hand that’s planted on your hip. Slowly, you lead it to the swell of your ass and press his large hand to grip at you. He does so eagerly, playing with the pliant flesh filling his warm hold. Your sleep shorts are thin, letting him feel you easily despite the barrier. He can’t resist the instinct to pull and spread you open. You hum happily at the feeling, arching into it. Ace blows out a tense breath, bedding his cheek into the top of your head and canting his hips up ever so slightly.

“So good, sweetheart,” you sigh. He squeezes down and turns his face to find comfort in the smell of your hair. “Let me show you.”

You urge his hand a little lower, right to the hem of your shorts. You only stop when his fingertips slip under and tickle the skin right beside the swell of your lips. You want him to decide this on his own. He teases the elastic for a moment before trailing the pad of his finger over your underwear right where the seam of your pussy is, starting from your entrance up to your clit and back. Another content hum leaves you, encouraging him, and he swivels his hand to cup your heat. He shivers at the hot breath curling over his chest, and his head swirls happily when you arch your hips up to push your cunt deeper into his palm.

This time it’s your own hand gripping your ass to spread you open for him. You arch and nudge into his hold more, unintentionally grinding over his cock in your writhing. His fingers twitch, teasing your clit, sparking it to life and leaving you wanting. He’s having trouble keeping himself tempered instead of writhing when he can feel the dampness of your underwear and how they slide messily between his palm and your pussy. He wants it coating his fingers, smeared on his lips, maybe one day he can feel it soaking his cock-

“Touch me,” you whine impatiently.

Hasty fingers push under the band of your underwear and slip between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ace moans. His voice is low in his chest but softened by his breathlessness. He takes his time petting around your entrance and enjoying the feeling of your lips slipping to encase his fingers when he flattens them out to reach your clit.

“Told you I was dreaming about you,” you mumble happily. Even though your body is heated and tingling, you’ve still got the weight of sleep pulling at you, leaving you in a content mix of dreaminess and pleasure. You relax further into Ace, happy to let him touch you as he likes in that tentative, worshipping way of his. It’s that endearing contrast to the brash and confident way he presents himself and fights. He always starts touching you like it’s an honor he doesn’t deserve, something he needs to take slowly lest he scare you off or never get the chance again. Even though you love the treatment, it breaks your heart that he thinks he’s so below you as to not deserve to touch you, let alone receive your affection.

The tip of a finger presses at your entrance, just enough to have the pad sink in. You swivel your hips to urge him further and moan when he listens to your plea. Ace moans with you, always amazed at your tight heat. It welcomes him easily despite gripping down snugly on his skin. He pulls his digit out with a curl, shivering when your muscles clamp back against him. You sigh his name in that dreamy way that makes him feel special, and he can’t help but add another finger and sink them in deep. Even though he’s in to the last knuckle, you shove your face down into his chest and your ass into the air to try and suck him in deeper. He rewards you by petting at your walls, drawing more pleasurable twitches from your cunt.

“More,” you whine. It’s half demand and half complaint and all turning his brain to mush. How quickly you are winding into desperation is only making his own need grow. He needs to hear more from you, he needs you to fix the burning under his skin, he needs fuck himself into a place so deep in you that you can never be rid of him.

“Need to be inside you,” Ace groans before he can think about the words. “Please, pretty baby, you feel too good-” he swallows thickly when you hungrily grind back onto his massaging fingers, “fuck -hah- need to know-” he can’t finish his sentence because you’ve snuck your hand down to palm his erection and stroke him in time with your thrusting hips.

“Think you’re ready to fuck me?” you ask. You meant to check in and make sure he was emotionally ready, but your breaths rushing out of you made it sound harsh.

“Please,” he begs, voice broken, holding you tight with his free hand, “I’ll make you feel so good- promise, promise.”

“I’m just worried-”

“It’ll be okay,” he promises immediately, “just a quick feel, you don’t even have to let me fuck you- just gotta feel you on my cock at least once.” He tries to win your favor by using his free hand to tease your clit.

“Ace,” you gasp. It’s hard to slow him down when he’s winding your body up so well. With a quick jerk, he shifts you up his body, giving him better leverage to work you on his fingers. It lands your face in the pillow next to his and he takes the opportunity to suck open mouthed kisses across your neck. You mean to talk to him and get a hold on how frantic he’s getting, but all you can do is let out muffled moans into soft cotton.

“I’ll be good,” Ace whispers against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and humid and gets you one step closer to an orgasm lighting you on fire. “I’ll make you cum until you can’t worry anymore.” The fingers tweaking your clit and prodding your firming walls give weight to his promise. Your hips are already starting to stiffen and twitch with the oncoming climax. “I’ll keep begging, I’ll worship you, anything you want, just, fuck-” his voice breaks before he can stop it. “Please let me feel you.”

Ace feels like he can’t get enough air; he won’t be able to breathe if you pull away - he’s sure he’ll suffocate without you. His whole body is pulsing and alive with urgency, not just the cock straining against his pants. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is you. Your pretty moans slipping out, half-covered by the pillow. Your searching hands, grasping and working his body over in search of something to hold on to. Your chest blanketing his own, ebbing and flowing in waves with your heavy breathing pressing into him. Most of all, the slick, plush grip of your cunt around his fingers, singing to him in little wet slaps every time it welcomes his fingers back home.

“Ace, I’m-” you turn your head towards him so he can hear and find him already looking at you. His flush is deep enough to try and hide his freckles and his pupils are blown enough to turn his brown eyes black. His slack jaw lets your breaths mingle. The pressure of his fingers on your clit increases just the slightest bit, but it’s just right to get your body to clamp down and not let go. “I’m so close, gonna cum, please, love-” Ace sobs out a moan at the new pet name and presses the fingers inside you even more insistently “ahhn! Don’t stop, don’t stop, gonna-”

You suck in a greedy breath and it’s trapped in your lungs as your body starts to seize up. The hit of pleasure has you curling as close as you can into Ace, needing to clutch him when the first wave crests heavily. His fingers follow you when you squirm to center fully on top of him, soothing you through the ride with gentle pumps into your twitching walls. You breathe again after a moment, letting out a flurry of praise into Ace’s shoulder. The little shakes of your hips make you rub against his trapped cock and his eyes roll back against his wish to keep watching you.

The way your pussy clamps down on his fingers is absolute torture. Pressed so close with his eyes shut, he can almost imagine the rhythmic waves of your spasming cunt milking him while he fucks you full of cum. It has him panting along beside you like he was the one who just came.

You’re easing down from your high, swollen walls settled along his now unmoving fingers. The sound of your panting settles with you and the room starts to still into a cozy calmness. Your muscles feel liquid and uncooperative as you try to adjust into a comfier position. The movement yet again rubs you against Ace and he whimpers at the heavy gush of precum it pulls from him.

With a pained sound, Ace wiggles the hand that had been toying with your clit out from under your hips and past his sensitive cock to draw shapes on your back. The action brings the smell of sex closer up to his face and he can’t help but groan. Fuck, he doesn’t want to push you or bother you, but the high of seeing you cum has passed and left him even more wanting.

“Pretty?” Ace starts softly. He kisses at your temple and you hum in reply. “...please?”

You hum again, only half hearing him between the orgasm taking the wind out of your sails and that wind having only been a small gust in the first place given it was somewhere around the witching hour.

“I still need you,” he urges, pressing his hips up gently for some miniscule relief and to make you understand. He’s scalding hot below you and throbbing into your lower stomach and it starts to bring you some clarity.

“While I’d love to continue, I’m tired,” you sigh. Before he can apologize or take it the wrong way, you continue. “Normally that wouldn’t really be a problem, but I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed the first time I fuck you.” Even with the casual way you’re talking, Ace sighs happily and pulls you tighter at the idea. Before you can think about how you’re about to contradict your words, your mouth moves and you’re back to riling him. “I’ve thought of our first time together a lot, and I’m going to treat you to much more than some sleepy sex.” He shivers and moves back to mouthing at your neck at the promise. “I want you sitting pretty under me while I show you everything I can do to you.”

“But I’m under you now,” Ace argues.

“You are, and you’re doing so good at the looking pretty thing too,” you sigh in mock defeat. You feel him smile against your neck, both from the praise and from gaining some ground. Gotta get that idea back out of his head. “I don’t wanna leave you hanging, but I want to do more for you the first time you’re inside me.”

Ace doesn’t share that worry. He’s more worried about using his free hand to start guiding your hips in slow circles to feel the motion around the fingers still sitting inside you. It also teases his still leaking cock and makes it painfully easy to imagine the sensation blending so his cock feels the circles and the grip of your cunt. It flutters on his digits and he flexes his hand to feel the twitching muscles better, putting pressure towards your lower stomach. You keen at the burn it sets in your nerves, arching against his hand to feel more. Shoved so snuggly into your body, Ace’s fingers pick up the thump of your racing heart beating behind the walls of your pussy. He’s never needed anything more than he needs to feel it tapping against the racing pulse of his own heart pulsing through his cock.

“Please, pretty, please please ple-hease” he begs again, beyond reason. “What if- what if we don’t fuck? What if you just let me inside you to keep me warm?”

The idea is quite tempting. You kiss at the side of his face, giving yourself time to enjoy the fantasy of cockwarming him. It’s one you’ve come back to many times in your daydreams of him. Still, you want to fuck the sanity out of him the first time he’s inside you.

“Ace, no-”

“Just the tip.” The words are rushed and breathless and broken. “What if it’s just the tip?”

You realize there’s no reasoning with him and you’re losing the want to try. It’s not like you haven’t been wanting to fuck him since lust rode in on the coattails of “wow he’s pretty and so sweet”. He’s not the only one hiding insecurities though, and you frequently fear that if you don’t keep up the trend of blowing his mind with all the physical stuff then he’ll get bored of you. You can’t accept your first time together being anything less than perfect; the very idea fills you with dread, so much so that the potent temptation of Ace writhing and begging and even just his fingers making you feel so fucking good hasn’t shaken it off you.

“I can’t-” Ace swallows hard, “I can’t just keep dreaming about it, please, fuck, pretty, I need you.”

You believe him. You’ve never heard him so lost before in all your times fooling around. He’s prone to his tongue loosening the longer you touch and this is far from the first time he’s pleaded with you, but this felt different. There’s a frantic undertone to his voice and the words spilling from his lips. There’s truth to the emotion turning his grasp into a delicious mix of powerful and trembling. There’s no arguing with the twitching length grinding into your lower stomach - no way you can deny how hard he feels or the heat of it burning against you even through your clothes. It’s enough to make you lose yourself to the thought of getting to clamp down around his firm cock while the length finds places to toy with much deeper than you can reach. You can tell from the shape against you his width would press back at every nerve you’ve got, waking them up and making them sing.

You come back to reality when he sneaks in a deep thrust of his fingers. The wet sound makes him moan, and the responding clench turns it into a deep, throaty “fuck”. His head flies back as he arches and grinds. You look up from the pillow and see his pretty black waves piling next to the sharp cut of his jaw. The bob of his throat as he swallows matches the jump of his cock. You feel every detail of it and notice he’s leaked enough to soak through his shorts and your shirt, leaving a sticky spot against your skin.

“You make me feel so good,” Ace moans. “I can make you feel good too.”

The fact that he thinks he needs to convince you of that even with his fingers stuffed in you, held tight with how your cunt’s swelled from pleasure, proves he’s very far from rational thought.

“You did,” you promise with a sweet kiss to his neck. “Now it’s your turn.” His head shoots up to give you a hopeful look. “You’ve cum from less, isn’t this enough?” You swirl your hips down against him to illustrate your point.

“It’s not about cumming,” he grumbles, suddenly sounding a bit more coherent and honestly a bit offended. “I wanna be closer.”

That throws you so off guard you just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“We could take off our clothes?”

Ace doesn’t give you time to take it back, his hands flying from you and already shoving his shorts down his thighs. He sighs in relief when his cock springs free, and nudges his head into yours mindlessly in relieved affection. Too impatient to finish the task, he stops pushing his shorts while they’re halfway down to instead get his hands under your shirt. You go to finish what he started but get distracted taking handfuls of his waist and thighs. When you thumb at the descending line of his adonis belt, Ace can do nothing but press into your touch, even pausing his mission to get under your clothes.

You lay yourself back on Ace, now trapping his dick between his twitching abs and the soft skin of your stomach and the tease of trimmed hair on your mound. Somewhere in his brain he thinks he should be ashamed of how he’s an absolute mess from something so simple as feeling your skin on his cock. At the moment, the shame is overshadowed by sheer need and awe. This is you - he’s dreamed of this, agonized over it, sat drowning in a mind and body desperate to find a way to get you to look at him, let alone touch him. Even when you started pulling him with you for teasing tastes on top of your shared missions together, all the time between had them feeling fake. Getting to have you feels so foreign and unattainable that his brain writes it off as false memories when you aren’t in his hands.

And that’s why he holds you all the more tightly when you’re in reach. He needs you cemented in his grip and sunk into every sense so you’re all he knows. No questions, no doubts, no loneliness, no hollowness, just the comfort of you. He gets his lips back on yours before he breaks.

You hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear but it’s not quick enough for Ace. He grabs them in a tight fistful and yanks. Your spread thighs keep them from getting lower than the end of your ass and Ace whines into your mouth. Trying not to break the kiss, you lean onto your right leg and try to work the other out of your clothing. It’s a clumsy and messy affair, each of you using a hand to tug at the garments while the other is busy trying to feel and hold as much of each other as possible. You lean back to look and finally get the damn thing off and Ace chases you the whole way. Between the hot slide of tongue, the nipping on lips, and the dancing rolls of kiss and grind you manage to get your left leg completely free of clothing.

“Fuck, pretty, how -hhh-ah!- do you do that?” Ace moans breathlessly after you set your hips back on him.

“Do what?” You’re moving your clit up and down his shaft in torturously slow grinds, mind fuzzed with the feeling of your wetness making you glide so smoothly on him.

“Make me -mmnngh!- fuck-” You circle your clit around his sensitive head, turning his speech into a few heaving breaths and groans. “Make me forget everything.”

Your lips are back on his in a rush, too fast for you to get out all the loving words living in you. First it’s as insistent and firm as your hips are working him over. After a long minute though, he’s lost too much breath to do much more than pant and hump into you in a desperate chase to feel more and more. You begin laying quick kisses to his cheek and land one in the shape of a smile on the corner of his open mouth. You feel it curl up under the press of your lips.

“You m-make me happy,” Ace admits, a twinge of nerves managing to show through all the arousal in his voice. You bump your nose to his gently.

“You’re my happiness, Ace.”

He whines and screws his eyes shut even more tightly. You feel his cock throb heavily against you. Taking advantage, you change to little circles against him and feel the pressure of it tease at your clit and entrance. A hand snakes into your hair and grips, holding you steady to press your foreheads together. His eyes crack open to search yours for lies. Even in the rush of your grinding bodies, the eye contact is still and sturdy as steel.

“You can’t just say that,” Ace breathes.

You feel how close he is, even harder than before and thrusts getting stilted in an attempt not to cum. You set on that singlemindedly, needing to hear his breathy broken moans, feel him squirm and jerk, shove him straight into a headspace empty of all but bliss. You get your own hand in his hair and tug, earning a moan and more pleads. Busying your mouth with his neck, you begin sliding along his whole length at a quick pace. The burn in your thighs is nothing compared to the pressure building between your hips, getting tighter and brighter with every swipe.

“No, holy shit, so close, s’close -hah hahngg-“ Ace starts babbling, “wanna cum in you, I’ll do anything, I’ll -mnnngh- anything please, fuck, too good, so fucking wet, so -fuck- can’t, please no, no ‘m gonna cum-“

You suck and teethe at the sensitive spot behind his ear and twist your grip in his hair, sure that would throw him over. Instead he lunges forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder and his hands clamp onto your hips to hold them perfectly still. You’re reminded of the power in the man who falls apart for you. It makes you clench and gush against him with a throaty moan. He holds on for dear life through it, tensing and throbbing and leaking and just barely managing to hold off his orgasm.

Once he’s sure he’s relatively safe, he lets go of your shoulder and begins kissing over the slight indents. The gentle touch feels electric on the tender skin. He continues to hold your hips prisoner, imobile against his own. After some deep breaths he pulls back to look at you.

“I don’t want it to ever stop,” his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble, but not as much as his words. “Please.” That commanding grip lightens. He slides his hands so he can massage his thumbs into the creases where your thighs meet your hips, sending sparks under your skin. “Just a little of you.”

Your resolve finally breaks and you agree. “Just the tip.”

“Thank you,” Ace rushes out. “Remind me to take you out and spoil you.”

You huff out a laugh even though you’re pretty sure he’s serious.

“As if you don’t try already.”

You shimmy forward and he rights you into his grip again; getting you on him with as much skin to skin as possible, just where you belong. It makes maneuvering a bit more difficult but neither of you care; you’re too busy enjoying each other’s heat and taste.

“No goofing, just romance.”

His arms encase you while yours frame him, taking time to touch skin and play with his fluffy hair. You’re firmly settled against him, laying with your cunt just in reach of his leaking head. Each breath presses you deeper into each other and lets pressure tease at your breasts. You take a moment to sneak fingers to your sides so you can tweak his nipple. The shocked hiss is one of your favorites.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You reach back to grab hold of him and give him a few firm strokes, just to hear his pretty gasps. “The gentleman act isn’t as fun without the goofy contrast.”

“It’s not an a-aahhhhhhnn-“ You use your grip on him to circle his head on your entrance and press back just enough for the weeping tip to catch. After drawing out the sensation for a few more breaths, you move to sit up for a better angle to give him a shallow ride, but he stops you.

“Stay.” Even though it’s an order it sounds like a plea. At your confused look he continues, “If you stay like this I won’t be able to start fucking you if I lose myself.”

He feels you clench against his cockhead and it twitches in response, desperate to sink just a little deeper and letting you know with a pressure that hovers just under enough to finally slip into you. He knows “if” was too weak a word; the moment he feels the plush heat of your cunt he’s a goner. He’s had ambition and determination and stubbornness woven through parts of his being since his first breath. Yet they all fail him when he aims them at restraint here. Staring down a warlord was easier than fighting his bone deep desire for you. You just have a way of making him feel so full of life that it circles back around to an endless emptiness unless he’s smothered in your presence. Like any addict, the starting hits were no longer enough and he’d chase bigger and bigger ones til he had the endless high of being always near and always yours. His body being newer to such waves makes it easier for his instincts to take over him when more becomes not enough.

You feel the slick skin of his tip licking at your entrance with each breath you both take, so focused on every little motion you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your cunt. You start pressing back more.

“Wait,” Ace gasps. He plants a hand at the back of your head and turns it to face him. You meet blown pupils in shiny eyes, brows fighting not to pinch, freckles dancing with every word and expression. His warm breath tickles your swollen lips and you can taste its sweetness on your tongue. You want to keep looking around his pretty face but his pleading eyes have you locked in their heat. “Look at me.”

You barely think to give him a shaky nod.

Ace reaches his other hand down to join yours on his shaft. It slips easily around your grip and holds gently, letting you keep control. Your hand feels so hot between his large one and the beating cock in your palm. Testing his grip, you slowly pump down his shaft, a slick sound from the dripping of your cunt and his precum sliding through your fingers, and make your way back up to the tip with a twisting wrist. His hand trembles around yours and he curses against your lips but he simply follows your movements.

Happy with the reaction, you continue on. He begins sinking in and his brows furrow further. The slow pace lets him feel every bit of texture, every flutter of the muscles of your entrance as they greet him. He’s in enough for you to encase his slit and you both feel the reward of a thick gush of precum spilling right into you. You breath out a syrupy “so good” and Ace fights again not to cum again - it gives him visions of fucking you fast and deep until you’re hiccuping those words and he’s pumping you full for real. He doesn’t want to be hasty though, he might miss a single second of this blissful torture.

His dick is pressed in to a catch, hovered right where his head flares widest. You hold him steady and give a little circle of your hips to feel him play with your stretching entrance.

“-hah- holy o-oh -nnnngh- thank you thank you,” he mumbles and moans between trying to breathe. His eyes roll back and screw shut for a moment before he fights them back open to watch your hazy eyes and slack jaw. He pulls you forward by the hand in your hair to press your foreheads together. Those fingers begin a haphazard massage as they switch between grasping for grounding and petting at you in adoration.

You take in a lungful of his breath and his musk and the ambient sex and shimmy just a little lower. At last, your cunt gives to let the rim of his head pop in, finally warming you from the inside. It immediately has you clench down and you can’t help but moan pathetically at finally having something to clench down on. The burning skin of his cockhead presses back at the twitching walls of your cunt, sending jolts up your spine.

“Y-you -ahh- you’re so-“ Ace is struggling against his scattered mind and an ocean of oxytocin to get you to understand how perfect you are and how his chest is so full it aches and how he’d fight through pirates, marines, the whole world government just to be this close to you again. All that comes out is a grumbling, fervent moan of “warm”.

You clench again at the word and he whimpers. You slip your hand off of his cock and out of his grip before using it to make him hold his cock for you. It gets the sticky mess all over him, which he quickly uses to twist his hand slowly up and down his shaft. You follow the movement for a few pumps then bring your hand up to your faces. You’d wanted a taste but you get a better idea.

The moment the pads of your fingers touch Ace’s lips, he opens them just a bit wider for you. He can smell the heady mix of you both and his mouth waters eagerly. Slowly and deliberately, you sneak two fingers past his lips and press them on his tongue, his eyes burning into you the whole time. He’s quick to seal his lips and suck, hot tongue roving over your digits to collect every drop. You can hear the wet sound of his working hand get faster. You shove your fingers in to the last knuckle and he swallows them down greedily, moaning the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep yourself still; the fucked out look on Ace’s flushed face and the attention feeding but not sating your cunt make you squirm. All the movement from his jerking, constantly getting faster and firmer, has his cockhead massaging every nerve of your entrance and reverberated through your lips and clit, sinfully delicious yet maddeningly subtle. Your body is begging for him to force his way deep, split you around his thick cock, feel that pounding drag against every inch of your swollen and pulsing pussy. Instead, you have to settle for a slow tilt and pull of your hips, guiding the head sitting heavy in you to press more one way then the next. One particularly hard pump of his hand sends a strong shock to your clit and you grip him with your hands as tightly as your core wrings down around him. A heavy throb of his cock gushes more precum into you.

Hearing how much he’s struggling to breathe fast enough through his nose, you pull your fingers from his mouth to instead pull at his hair. He’s mumbling out curses and praises between frantic kisses around your lips. The battle to stare into your eyes is becoming lost; Ace’s won’t stop rolling back and fluttering closed and losing focus. You can practically taste how close he is and it sets your whole body alight. You’re sure when he cums you’ll be able to feel the pleasure in your own body.

“Ace,” you call and his eyes crack open to see you again. His lashes are so dark and long and make his eyes look all the darker. “Need to feel you cum.” The words are rushed and urgent, trying to sneak around gasps and moans. “Love, I want you t-to -mnnn!- fuck me full.”

“Fuck!” The word “love” echoes violently around Ace’s head, and he’s so wound up and frayed he’s scared he may actually catch fire. His scramble is immediate - hands flying down to clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking deep into your skin, head thrown back giving you a full view of the flush hiding his freckles, the strong jaw working between going slack and gritting his teeth, but most importantly his hips thrust against his will. A mindless, ravenous instinct locked in place and told him to rut until neither of you could move, until each thrust wrung more cum from him only to have it gush out of you because how could you possibly hold more?

Unfortunately, Ace had planned ahead. Your precarious alignment lets the first few thrusts sink him just a centimeter deeper, the relief of more of you only matched by the insatiable need to have all of you. Just when he feels the knot of pleasure pull his balls taught and tense his cock hard as a rod, a thrust knocks him loose.

Ace lets out an actual wail as he loses your heat. The bliss of his orgasm gets lost with it, ebbing away quickly and leaving him frantic.

“No fuck I- please I was so close, shit-,” Ace sobs right by your ear where he’s nestled himself close for comfort.

Needing to calm him and missing the feeling of him too terribly, your hand goes back to his cock while you distract him with sloppy open mouthed kisses. You find him easily and try to settle him with a few firm pumps. Ace is relieved as the feeling comes back fast and he’s already tensing and squirming and curling his toes as his orgasm beats to life in his cock again.

“That’s it, love,” you encourage. “I’ve got you.”

“Can’t, cumming cummingcumming-“ Ace chants urgently, kicked straight over the edge by your care. You rush to get him back inside you first but his cock’s already kicking in your grip. The first spray of cum lands where your thigh meets your ass and the second splashes over your pussy. By the third you’re pressing him back in. The whole time Ace is moaning high and gasping and pulling you to him like he needs you to breathe. He’s squirming and handsy, back arching off the bed while he takes any handful of you he can get. You feel the heavy pump of his next spurt of cum and fall to instinct yourself. You push your body down his and plop the weight of your hips in his lap, taking him in one swift motion and a heavy slap.

“Yes! Y-ye-nnnghah!- yesss thank you thank you so good so good s’good-“

You grind yourself in a heavy drag, forward and back, relishing having him all the way inside you. He feels thick enough to press your hips wide and long enough to punch at your lungs. Each grind has him play with your insides, lighting every nerve to make you feel like he’s filled you from head to toe. Each grind also has a fresh throb press at your cunt and spurt more sticky cum where his head twitches against your deepest spots. It has an unfamiliar pit swallowing the orgasm that’s nearly formed in your core, filling your nerves with a new life. You pick up the pace, needing more of that deep seated burn you can feel with each rub of him in the pit of your gut.

Ace whines as his sensitive cock has less and less to give yet keeps up its pumping. He’s beside himself, feels completely out of control of his muscles and voice as he grinds and moans and pleads, yet somehow his hands help press your hips harder into his, adding strength to your ride with every push and pull. He’s left slack jawed at the feeling, mouth hung open to let out every humid pant and desperate sound. He can feel your thighs clamp up around his hips, your fingers claw frantically at his chest, your hips begin to shake and jump. Most of all he can feel the coming orgasm sink into the muscles of your cunt as they swell and twitch and begin to clamp down on him like a vice.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop-“ now you’re chanting to him and he feels a new rush flow through his body. The ending orgasm is replaced with new interest amid the burning haze of overstimulation. Every fiber in him knows that he just needs to make you cum and he’ll know what heaven is like.

Ace sits up quickly to meet you, detouring to mouth over your swaying chest and enjoy a taste of your perked nipples before he gets some space to watch your blissed out face and writhing body. He begins thumbing at your clit while his other hand urges your hips up a few inches. For a moment you keep your hips moving but they freeze when Ace plants the hand that was on them behind him and his feet on the mattress and he starts to fuck up into you. They’re shallow, staccato slaps of his hips into yours, sloppily pushing his cum out of you to make stickier sounds, sending vibrations rattling through the underside of your clit still pressed under his thumb, and it’s exactly everything you ever needed.

The deep pit his fat cockhead taps at again and again pulls taught until your whole cunt squeezes and then you feel like you burst. A breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a holler of his name and you curl forward to cling to him. You try and ride out the high as it seizes you, shaking through your hips and legs and tightening its fist around your whole core. You don’t remember an orgasm ever massaging through you like this before - pulling heavy waves of clamp and release from your cervix to your entrance, each one making Ace’s cock feel even bigger and the pressure of that cock forcing you to stay open makes you nerves sing and dance tingles through your clit and up your spine and under your skin.

You’re not the only one stuck at it’s mercy; Ace’s head is empty of all but the way the sensation ravages through his nervous system, taking his body from him and commanding it to hold you closer, harder, to fuck you faster, firmer. He knows his mouth is moving, but he’s not sure what it’s saying. His head is full of curses and wonder and “thank you”s and “love you”s but he has no clue what’s making it past. The only things he seems to hear are the roaring of his blood in his ears and the stream of praise tumbling from your lips. You gasp out, “Ace! Fuck, you’re so -hahn- perfect”, and he sears it in his brain forever. The way you pray your pleasure to him, bleed his name and “love” together as if they’re the same thing, it has his head spinning and his heart swelling and cock burning.

The pulses of your high get further apart so you force will into your legs and bounce with Ace to chase them. After a few though, his feet slip out straight and both hands are back on your hips to guide your thrusts and hold you tight. He’s kissing down the side of your face then hiding himself in the crook of your neck, where he can switch between kissing the taste of salt off your skin and huffing in lungfuls of the scent of your hair and skin and sweat and sex. He can taste his bliss on every moan he chokes out, can feel it throb closer with every clap of your hips he just clap needs a little more, needs the way clap your fingers tug his hair clap yes just like that and clap fuck, the way your pussy clap sucks him in clap so so close, just-

“Fuck, Ace, can’t breathe -hahnngh- too much, don’t let it stop -ah!- please, need you-“

He whimpers and crushes you in his hold, forcing you to sit still with him pressed as deep as he can go so he can feel every inch of you while he cums again. The first wave hits and he surges forward when his abs clamp tight, knees pulling up behind you to fully surround you.

“Again?” You manage to gasp against his cheek.

“Yes,” he whines, “you’re just- fuck, fuck!”

It’s near painful to cum so hard so quickly after the last. His head is murky and floating at the strange sensation of the orgasm tearing through his muscles to make him grind and pump into you without having anything to gush out. Your body still seems happy enough with the offering though, completely in sync to milk out everything he could possibly give.

It’s the perfect end to your high to be in your body enough to take in every bit of his high moans and mumbling and feel every bit of touch his instincts have him showering over you. He keeps nosing at your neck for comfort and tickling the sensitive skin there with kisses and words spoken right against your skin. His hands are deeply kneading the flesh of your hips, petting in trembling fingers and always pulling to keep your hips flush to his. His abs tense and jump, both with his stuttering breath and with the strong pulls of his dick every time it tries to force more out of him in a soul-deep need to fill you with him until he’s a permanent piece of you. His thighs are doing much the same, jostling you slightly against him from how he’s curled around you. Yes, this is exactly what you needed to cap your high and ease you back into reality. Especially with that deep voice of his showing off its range.

“Thank you, thank -nnngh- you, wanna be this close forever -ahhh- never -mm!- stop feeling you, love this, l-love y-y-hah!”

You guide him the whole time, petting his hair, kissing his temple, teasing his skin with your nails, and holding his back. The way he clings to you sets you ablaze but also lets you know how desperately he needs to feel held. His firm hold and your returning squeezes are the anchor that secures you both through the torrent and the drop from sharing bodies. Because of the affection, that drop is a landing in pure comfort and relaxation. Your muscles are all becoming liquid and you simply melt into each other and breathe.

Ace may have never finished that thought out loud, but he continued it in the affection of his lips pressing so tenderly to your heated skin. He made it clear in the reverence of his hold on you, full of trailing fingertips worshipping your shape and gentle squeezes closer with warm and supportive palms. You understood from the cozy sway he set while drawing his temple up the side of your face to then skim the tip of his nose over your cheek and rest your foreheads together then find stillness. All the words he didn’t say came through in your shared breaths, which grew from humid puffs to a slow and smooth rhythm.

Just in case you missed the rest, he brushed his lips across yours, light enough to tickle before easing forward to mold them together. Your lips part to taste him once more and he indulges you, happily slipping his tongue between your lips for another dance. It’s unhurried how you kiss, lips firm and sure in how they press and drag together, tongues brushing slowly not to arouse but to simply enjoy. The slick sounds of the deep kisses ring in your ears in the quiet room along with the hushes of breath slipping between you two. Ace pulls in one particularly deep breath through his nose before breaking the kiss to sigh his happiness out. The whole thing is punctuated by one last sweet peck.

“I feel it too, Ace,” you promise.

His voice is thick when he whispers out once more, “Thank you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and press a smile to his skin. Ace tilts his head just so to rest it on yours and closes his eyes to simply be. You’re not sure how long you stay sat in his lap holding him. Instead of the tick of a clock you have the swell of his breaths and the brush of his thumb. Now and again he’d start and leave a subtle sway or press kisses to your hair or squeeze you just a little tighter. You’d respond to it all in kind but his favorite was when he could feel a smile press your cheek into his collarbone or when you’d rest your hand over his pec just to better feel his heartbeat.

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arms cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”.

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to say no to that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out expectantly and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had.

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you.

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever.

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed 🥰 Please let me know if you did and criticisms are also welcome 🤍

Restarting tag list because Overthinking lol please lmk if you want to be on one! Even if you think it's obvious. I am: Stupid and Anxious 💀

Between Two Points Masterlist - separate character shots for the “just the tip” trope

Masterlist

#ace x reader #one piece x reader #ace smut #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #ace x you #portgas ace x reader #reader insert #reader insert smut #fem reader #x reader #one piece #thirst hours #my writing #Spotify

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otaku553 · 9 months ago

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Fire (Part 2)

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(Spade Pirate Sabo AU Masterpost)

And that is!! 18 of 18 pages!! It's this long because I didn't want to break up their fight. I hope you enjoy :)

I had to rewrite their fight like,,, 3 times lmao. I'm not very good at writing fights because I'm Incredibly Passive Aggressive and Very Non Confrontational. Thankfully my partner helped me out a bit with making the escalation feel natural, so hopefully their grievances and motivations read well. In the end, both of them are starving probably-emotionally-stunted teenage boys in a high-stress situation, and Tage is being faced constantly with one of the biggest sources of his trauma that he doesn't even remember-- of course he's going to lash out.

Fun thing I learned this time around, if I struggle with planning a chapter, it can kind of help to write it out in prose like I would a fanfic, and then translate it to comic form. This is how I eventually ended up with 18 pages of comic,,, because I can't really estimate how much I'll need to draw when I'm writing in prose. In turn, this did help a lot with adding more natural behaviors between dialogue, like Tage tapping his finger to fidget while crossing his arm, or all of their pointing and gesturing while they're arguing.

#spade pirate sabo au #sabo #portgas d ace #one piece au #asl au #i am a bit sad to let go of the coloring I was doing on these comics #but working in grayscale is So Much Faster #hopefully will keep improving with that #the new brush also helped a lot with keeping my lines a bit looser #i think i probably won't be able to keep up with scheduled weekly updates like before but it will keep updating for sure!!

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antinousletmehit · 4 months ago

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Okay here me out please… can you pretty please write a Telemachus x reader where when ody returns and is being made fun of by the suitors while still in this begger disguise reader starts fighting off the suitors and yelling at them for being rude and maybe joins ody while he is hunting them down and Telemachus has a love sick look while watching reader just like ody did for Penelope when they were teenagers and after seeing how cool and awesome of a warrior reader is, ody turns to his son and says “I aprove of this one 😏” and poor Telemachus is just like 😳

୨୧┇Telemachus x reader

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The hall of Ithaca’s palace echoed with the crude laughter of the suitors, their voices grating as they lounged at tables meant for nobler men. Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, shuffled into the room, his weathered cloak draped over his shoulders. He kept his head low, scanning the faces of those who had sullied his home. The suitors noticed him almost immediately.

“Well, look at this!” Antinous sneered, rising from his seat. “Another beggar come to steal what little is left of the feast!” The others laughed, and Eurymachus leaned back, gesturing mockingly. “Shall we toss him a scrap or two, Antinous? Or maybe your leftover bones will do?” Odysseus gritted his teeth but said nothing, his hands tightening on his staff. Before he could respond, however, you stepped forward.

“Enough!” you snapped, your voice sharp and commanding. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to you. You were no servant or passive bystander, you were a fierce protector of the palace, one of the few who still stood loyal to Ithaca and its rightful king.

“This man has done nothing to you,” you continued, your eyes narrowing at Antinous. “If you have any shred of decency left, you’ll leave him be.” Antinous scoffed, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “And what will you do if I don’t? Throw me out yourself?” “If I have to,” you replied, your hand resting on the hilt of your blade.

“You always have to play the hero, don’t you?” Eurymachus muttered, rolling his eyes. “Better a hero than a parasite,” you shot back.

At that, the room erupted into murmurs, some of the younger suitors chuckling nervously. Telemachus, standing near the doorway, watched you with wide eyes, his heart racing. The way you stood your ground, fearlessly defying men who thought themselves untouchable, made his chest tighten. Odysseus, still playing the part of the beggar, smirked as he caught sight of his son’s lovestruck expression. Leaning toward Telemachus, he whispered, “I approve of this one.”

Telemachus’s face flushed a deep red. “Father, please,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“She’s got fire,” Odysseus continued, his voice low and amused. “That’s what you need, boy—a woman who won’t back down. Just look at her.” Telemachus did look. He couldn’t help it. The way you glared at Antinous, daring him to make a move, left him in awe.

Antinous, meanwhile, was fuming. “You’ve overstepped,” he growled, taking a step toward you. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you stepped forward as well, meeting him head on. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Before the tension could escalate further, Odysseus cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “Perhaps you should listen to the lady,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She seems to be the only one here with sense.” Antinous glared at him but reluctantly backed down, muttering curses under his breath.

As the suitors returned to their seats, Odysseus turned to you, his eyes gleaming with approval. “Thank you,” he said softly. You nodded, though your gaze remained sharp as you watched the suitors warily. “Someone has to stand up to them.”

Telemachus stepped closer, his heart still pounding. “You were incredible,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. You glanced at him, a small smile breaking through your serious demeanor. “Thank you, Telemachus.”

Odysseus smirked again, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She’s a keeper, lad. Don’t let this one slip away.” Telemachus’s face turned scarlet, and he stammered something unintelligible. You tilted your head, curious but amused by his sudden shyness.

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic telemachus #telemachus #telemachus x reader

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lover-of-mine · 2 months ago

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Okay, welcome to Anna writes a framing meta for the first time in who knows how long. This got long as hell, so strap in.

Okay, first up, first buddie scene of the episode, the locker room, at no point you can see both of their faces clearly at the same time, either one of the faces is out of focus or they have their backs to the camera (tiny images for me to stay within the image limit, but you should be able to zoom in).

And if we get a wide shot, they have something separating them in the frame.

The not allowing the camera to focus on both of them really works to highlight how they're not seeing eye to eye, and helps the scene feel awkward because they are obscuring their real feelings, Buck doesn't Eddie to move and Eddie doesn't want to move, but they are both trying to act excited about it. And the physical divider between them highlights the way the move is getting between them. Literally. The show did this the other 2 times they fought. If something really is getting between them, we end up getting a physical display of it.

And before you get all "oh but the show is not that deep" on me.

Okay, moving on, something very interesting that I've seem a bunch of people point out is this shot specifically, they are very close, some would say within kissing distance *wink*, but the glass is between them, but the lafd logo is only obscuring Buck's face.

Since the logo is backward when we look at if from inside the locker room, it almost makes it seem like the only thing stopping them is Eddie not being in LA with Buck.

At the house showing, there's always a few steps between them, at least, but the way Buck starts the sabotage by peaking over Eddie's shoulder, to fully stepping in front of him to the point that the camera stops focusing on Eddie is the fun part here for me.

Because that's when Buck fully takes over, the meth lab story is the most intentional part of the sabotage, at least in my opinion, and the way Buck takes over when he sees someone he thought would actually go for it, the little "man, I thought we had her" before Eddie calls him out gives that impression, it really shows the way Buck escalates inside his own feelings. It also highlights the way the scene is in Buck's pov. It's pretty obvious when we consider the way we see Buck talking to the potential renters alone, but we only hear Eddie talking to them alone.

Not really relevant here but love that Buck is the only person we ever saw in that back door. New angle of the Diaz kitchen too.

Love that painting of waves behind Buck, both for the symbolism of the way this is about to crash into him and his relationship with water and life-changing stuff, the tsunami, the well, the lightning, y'all know what I mean.

Okay, before I move on I need to take a detour to fully explain why these next two scenes had me going fucking insane.

Oliver is a pretty big guy, right? He's the tallest main, he is built like a fridge, he is a person who will usually be the biggest person in the room. That ends up giving Buck the power. So when Buck is emotionally distressed, they usually exaggerate that. Like when he is yelling at his parents and everyone is sitting down but him, or when he's standing up when telling everyone about Daniel, when he's sitting on the stairs talking to Maddie about being the one who's always left behind, or how they gave Buck the literal high ground when he's waiting for Taylor so they can breakup.

There's also the way that Buck likes to sit on top of stuff that will make him taller, the counter, the top the firetruck.

They play with that a lot, Maddie conversations when she's actually getting through to him tend to have both of them sitting down, since Jennifer is that much smaller, or talks with Bobby have them both standing up since Peter is the closest in height to Oliver.

But since Oliver is really tall, Buck doesn't look up at people a lot. It usually happens with love interests in emotionally heavy scenes that, like the breakup with Ali, when he tells Taylor he cheated, the breakup with Tommy. There are a few scenes with Bobby and Maddie.

And then there's Eddie.

The gym scene and the 204 scene, well, 201 Buck is about to get up and puff out his chest, try to look as big as possible, so it doesn't count in this, and 204 is being there for Eddie, but the rest he's looking for guidance. Something I used to talk about a lot is that Buck's admiration of Eddie clouds his judgment, it forces him to this space of following Eddie's lead, it put him in a position where he was literally looking up at Eddie when he needs reassurance or validation. Which is not really good for healthy relationship, it would make Buck bend to what Eddie thinks it's best and that's not good in the long run in a romantic relationship. The conversations they had about Buck's feelings, they were on different levels in the frame, and Eddie was always higher, and Buck is putting Eddie in a space where he needs reassure him. Funny enough, if they are talking about Eddie's feelings, they are usually both sitting down, so they are equalized there.

They broke that pattern with the coming out scene. In fact they broke it so hard they have Eddie looking up at Buck while wanting Buck to reassure him that hes not being unreasonable and he can hide in the loft.

But they are both sitting down for the part of the conversation that is about Buck, and Buck needs reassurance from Eddie there, but he is not looking at Eddie for guidance, he’s looking at Eddie for acceptance. And he would only get that if they were on the same level. So monumental moment. (read more about my freakout about the coming out scene here)

Now that we are all caught up, the station scenes, they're unleveled again.

In fact, Buck is so low he's on the fucking floor. But he's not looking up because he needs guidance or reassurance or because he thinks Eddie has the answers, he's on the floor because he's about to throw a low blow. He's being unfair and he knows it.

It is about Eddie having power over Buck, but it is also about how at that moment Buck doesn't want to accept that, he wants to land a punch that's gonna put Eddie on the floor with him.

He doesn't start the first scene on the floor, but he is on the floor once he tells everyone about the move.

And he is sitting on the floor when he says the "I don't need you either" so he is physically as low as he can be as he goes for the hit that's gonna hurt Eddie as much as he's hurting.

That had me SALIVATING. Buddie will never work if they keep assuming they can read each other's minds, it is why I was so adamant about the need of another divorce era, why that's the core of half the fics I write, they need to talk when they are hurting. And this was messy, they're being intentionally hurtfull but it all ends up equalizing in the biggest show of how they have the it's you and me vs the problem not you vs me down to an art if you just let them talk.

But moving on, at the end, when he realizes that he is succeeding in hurting Eddie but it's not gonna make feel any better, they're on the same level.

Side note, they tend to be on the same level when they are talking about them. (Yes, I'm counting the cemetery scene, this convoluted breakup that went nowhere is about their relationship, I don't care).

And that obviously leads up to the final buddie scene of the episode.

Just to get this out of the way, they are positioned the same way they were when Eddie tells Buck to leave the showing, but from the other side, because now we're on Eddie's pov.

The giveaways from that for me is the fact that the house is back to the usual warm lighting, and we are learning the information with Eddie, in contrast to the cold lighting and the way we learn the information with Buck in 808.

So our running joke to put a light on Buck if we ever got a scene from Eddie's pov? Yeah.

The 2 lamps almost give Buck a glowy aura.

Anyway, the thing with this scene is the way there's a lot of space between them at first, at some point Eddie is even holding onto the door and Buck even starts adding more space, the couch between them is a nice touch too.

And Eddie keeps his distance while they're fighting, up until when the crew arives and he steps back closer to Buck. It's not really necessary, they could walk around him the same way Buck did to get in the house.

Through the whole thing, Buck is in the same place he in the center of the room.

And then Eddie is the one to close the space, because even when Eddie is going in for the hug, Buck is not moving. Eddie has full control of the movement with them even though he was the only one who didn't have the full information.

And it's fun because there are 2 other scenes like that, where one of them is stationary and the other is doing all the movement, but while here Buck is letting Eddie make the choice to come to him, the other one Buck is forcing Eddie to let him in. Coincidentally (read absolutely intentionally), it's the other times they are clearing the air, 306 talk at the station and 309 kitchen talk. In both scenes Eddie is in a spot and Buck is doing all the moving closer.

And I think that indicates a lot of the way their relationship grew since s3, it's almost exemplifying the way Buck knows he doesn't need to force his way in anymore, that that door is already open and he can let Eddie come to him.

Well, I guess he already did in season 5 breaking the door down, but like Eddie says, Buck doesn't to break the door down, he wants to let Eddie open it. If he lets Eddie know he's there, Eddie will make the choice to let him in. And it is what happened. Eddie was upset because he thought he couldn't count on Buck and not being able to count on him always get Eddie off balance, it's why Buck fully disarms him telling him about renting the house, he was ready for anger but Buck just reminded him that he's got him. And I think that's beautiful.

This adds nothing to nothing but I need to say that "if you need to be pissed off at me to make it easier for you then be pissed off" most romantic thing I've ever seen. "Be mad at me if you have to, but stop faking it", you don't need to pretend with me on crack, had me screaming crying throwing up.

Some random things to point out, with the 2 fist bumps and the hug this is the episode they touched intentionally and without of them being mortal danger the most.

Also, the last scene has the same color pallete of the coming out scene.

In the still, the blue of Buck's jacket looked a bit too light, but when I put them side by side, that's Buck's blue. But the fit is a bit too big and the black shirt and the black color offset that. There's also the way that in 809 both of them are in the warm background. The yellow elements aren't that intense, but Buck mismatching is making me 👀 because while Buck is pulling the ultimate grand gesture as a clinger can do by doing that thing that will allow Eddie to leave him, I don't think living in that house alone is going to be easy for Buck. And Eddie stays in the warm background with a black shirt. So yeah, that's fun. Buck is in his color but in the wrong fit, Eddie is just no color at all yet but it keeps looming behind him.

This is long as fuck already and I just hit the image limit so I will shut up now, but I'll be back at some point about colors. As always, if you read this I love you.

#ooof #if you read this your a warrior okasaoksas #911 #911 spoilers #buddie #911 meta

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john-get-the-salt · 1 month ago

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Routine (w/ jack abbott)

Imagine: The nightly routine of working in the pitt with your husband

Contains: Jack being a simp for his girl, RN! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, insinuation of future sexy time but no action

AN: I would take Jack and Robby at the same damn time next question

The day may have been winding down for the city of Pittsburgh, but in your car things were just getting heated up.

Jack was driving, and the two of you were crushing red bulls and blasting 90’s music. Night shift in an ED wasn’t for everybody, but it definitely was for you two. This was your nightly routine to get pumped up for the long night ahead. Maybe there would come a day you two tired of night shift….but that day wasn’t today.

Jack parked and let the song finish so you could finish your karaoke before turning the car off.

“Ready for another hopefully fun night Mr. Abbott?”

“Every night with you is fun Mrs. Abbott.”

You winked and then once getting out of the car linked your hand with his.

You two strolled into the ED with a sync that only came from years of working together. After dropping off your bags and clocking in you did your signature hand shake, kissed each other briefly, and then parted ways.

You had the routine down to a T.

The night turned out to be pretty busy, so you and Jack only caught each other for few minutes at a time. Still, it was enough to be able to find him across the ER and wave or wink at each other.

Amidst the typical craziness, you got a young woman sent back from triage with a laceration to the forehead.

It was all very routine, you were in the room taking her updated vitals and charting some demographics before one of the docs would be in do the sutures. All normal stuff, other than the visitor who was at the woman’s side. He seemed anxious and aggravated, with his arms crossed. He was shifting all of his weight from foot to foot and kept staring at the woman. But the woman wasn’t looking at him, so he was just staring intensely at the side of her head.

Little alarm bells were going off in your head, but you recognized you needed to tread carefully.

“I apologize I’m sure you’ve gone over this already, but for documentation purposes do you mind telling me how you got the injury?”

The woman opened her mouth but before she could speak the man interrupted.

“Like we told the last person, I was at work and she tripped over some books and caught her head on the coffee table. How many times do we have to repeat ourselves to a nurse before an actual medical profession see’s her and let’s us leave?”

You pressed your lips together to keep any choice words from escaping. There weren’t many things you hated quite as much as being talking down to because of your your credentials.

“I apologize sir, it’s just protocol for me to ask again before the doctor comes in.”

The man grumbled but said nothing else. You typed on your computer for a moment before then asking, “Now ma’am did you have any loss of consciousness after your head hit the table?”

“I-”

“No she didn’t.” Again he interrupted.

“If you wouldn’t mind sir I really need her to answer the questions herself to the best of her ability.”

“No, I was there and I’m telling you she didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you said you were at work?”

The mans eyes narrowed and his face grew beet red. He lurched forward a few steps to get in your face so you took a step back closer to the door. You thanked your higher power that you’d left the door open and weren’t shut in.

“Listen here you bitch, I said she’s fine. We just need some stitches so we can get the fuck out of here.”

You risked glancing outside the door and made eye contact with another of the RN’s standing just outside in the hall. She made a notion with her hands to show she’d called for backup, which filled you with relief. She then made a move like she was going to come in and you shook your head just slightly. Having another nurse come in would likely just escalate things further.

Sir,” you raised your voice so it would carry out of the room, “you have 5 seconds to back the hell away from me before I call security and have you escorted out.”

But that was enough to set the man off again. He took another step and reached his arm out towards you when-

“Wooooah there.” Jack jogged into the room, putting himself directly in between you and the upset man. You released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“What’s going on in here?”

You looked to the man, eyebrow raised in challenge.

He grit his teeth but stopped fighting. “Nothing, I was just stepping out for a moment.”

“You do that sir.”

The man stomped past the both of you and out of the room, while the pt apologized profusely.

“It’s ok ma’am, someone will be in shortly to finish helping you okay?”

She nodded and you followed Jack back out into the hallway. You both watched as the man was walked back out into the waiting room by security.

“That was hot as fuck.”

You snorted, turning to your husband to find him staring at you with a wicked grin on his face. “What? Me ruining any chance of a good patient satisfaction score?”

“Fuck satisfaction scores. I love seeing you all stern and mean.”

“It was a close one.”

“He’s lucky, I could’ve taken him down like it was nothing.”

You huffed a laugh as your husband puffed his chest out. “Yeah, I know you could have. Thankfully it didn’t come to that….not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed the sight.”

His grin grew even more and instantly regretted your comment. His ego really did not need to be fed anymore.

“I’m gonna go grab the social worker to come talk to her, wanna eat soon?”

“Yeah, as long as you promise to start talking to me the way you talked to that guy.”

“That would be highly inappropriate on the workplace, sir.”

His eyes darkened a shade at that word, and you smirked.

“Huh. I’ll make a mental note of that for later.”

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

You shrugged.

“You knew that when you married me.”

“And I hope you never let me forget it.”

You laughed and he grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to him. He wasn’t big into PDA, but the hall was empty and no one was around. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought your lips to his. He gave you one long kiss, followed by another few quick ones.

You were left breathless, while that bastard just gave you a sly wink before you parted ways. What were you going to do with that man?

Jack really wasn’t going to let that incident go. For the rest of the shift, anytime he caught your eye, he would wiggle his eye brows and you just knew he was thinking about how hot he found angry-you to be.

Eventually the shift came to an end and the sun began to rise.

You were just grabbing your stuff from your locker when Jack found you.

“Ready?”

You nodded around a big yawn. He took your hand in his and walked you out to the nurses station where Robby was getting settled in.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” you greeted.

Robby grinned at the nickname. “Good morning. Aren’t you looking bright and perky this fine morning.”

You flipped him off and Jack just watched in amusement. You and Robby acted like siblings with the way you bickered.

Jack gave his fellow senior resident a quick report of the current house, running through anything important that day shift should know. While he yapped you leaned on him, head on his shoulder.

You were juuuuust nearly asleep when he wrapped an arm around your waist and gave you a kiss on the temple.

“Come on sleepy head, we just gotta make it home.”

You groaned but allowed yourself to be led out of the ER and to your car in the parking lot. Once you were both in and settled Jack drove off, leaving the hospital behind. You snuggled into your seat, eyelids heavy.

“I might not make it home, Jackie.” You said around another big yawn. “I might have to be carried in.”

That nickname only came out when you were really sleepy, so Jack would know you meant business and surely agree to carry you inside…..right?

“That’s fine sweetheart. But if you’re asleep I’m not getting you a mcgriddle.”

You shot up in your seat like you’d just been narcaned. You’d forgotten what day it was! After every Friday night shift, you two stopped at McDonald’s on your way home to grab something to eat before you passed out for the day. It was something little, but it gave you both something to look forward to as a reward. It was part of your routine.

“I’m actually more awake now than I’ve ever been!”

“Oh really? Isn’t that funny.”

“If you get me two McGriddles I’ll call you some mean names tonight before work.”

“Make it this morning after we eat.”

“Deal.”

#fanfic #imagine #drabble #fanfiction #x reader #writing #the pitt #jack abbott #jack abbott x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the Pitt imagine #jack Abbott imagine

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yourdarkcherry · 10 months ago

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Is it casual now?// Ellie Williams x fem!reader

summary: you and Ellie had a “casual” thing until she decided to ghost you and replace you. your friends decide that the best way to get over her is to get under another woman.

warnings: jealous ellie, abby is the revenge, reader is barely surviving her first wlw heartbreak, she/her for reader.

a/n: if u cant tell im obsessed with chappell roan.

It was your fault. Sleeping with Ellie Willaims was your fault.

Ellie was notoriously known as the toxic one, and you knew that. But you were like a moth drawn to a flame, you smiled at her when your eyes met hers too many times at the party. You allowed her to flirt with you, and encouraged her to make out with you at the backseat of the Uber.

She told you she liked you, and that you were the sexiest girl she was with, but it was all casual and no attachments, it was just having fun.

You knew that deep in your heart, and you liked it because you weren’t looking for anything serious and simply liked the sex and the flirting without any attachment. You liked being able to sleep with anyone you wanted, you liked being able to flirt with anyone, no one blowing up your phone and no one requiring your time and care.

You liked it all.

Until Ellie wormed her way to your heart. It was truly your fault, all of your friends told you that a ‘Casual’ thing with Ellie was a recipe for disaster.

You didn’t care, you were happy to be the one occupying most of her time, you were simply happy to be the one that got to meet her dad or Joel as she liked to call him, you were ecstatic being the only one to know how much of a big nerd she really is, to be the one to hear her sing, to be the only one that knows how to make her laugh when she’s sad.

That is all until she decided to replace you.

The sight of Ellie with another girl, the two of them were on the couch, the girl sat on Ellie’s lap and giggling into her neck as Ellie whispered things you never wanted to hear in her ear. Just seeing them like that made your eyes burn, and your breathing turned short and despite wanting to peel away your stare from them.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes were glued to them, your vision turning blurry by the second and your stomach turning sick, you didn’t drink anything at this party so you cannot blame it on the drinks no matter how much you wanted to.

In your trance at them, Ellie turned to stare at you—must’ve felt your burning look. You wanted her to push the girl away, to stand up and walk to you and lie to you that it’s not what you think it is. You wished for her to tell you any lie, to pretend like she wanted you just as you wanted her.

You would’ve believed it all, you would have succumbed to her and allowed her to take you to her bed and you would’ve allowed her back into your heart.

But none of your wishes came true. While maintaining eye contact with you, Ellie pulled the girl closer to her.You could feel the bile rising to your throat, and you ran outside the house party and threw up into one of the bushes.

Some part of you is grateful that your wishes didn’t come true, that the next day you didn’t wake up naked in Ellie’s bed. Because it makes hating her a lot easier.

“It’s a good thing you two ended that weird casual thing you had,” Leah told you on the way to the cafeteria after class. “I don’t know about you, but if the person I was fucking with no strings attached made me meet their parents, I’d run.” You sigh and roll your eyes at her words.

“It was never casual, maybe at the beginning but it quickly escalated to something very codependent. I’m glad it ended, though.” She added, taking the booth seat.

“Okay, can we stop airing out my dirty laundry for once? I was wrong and you were right, is that what you wanna hear?” you scoff at Leah. The woman grins and nods, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You sigh for the millionth time on this day.

“I’m glad you admitted that I’m right, because from now on you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do.” Leah said, then her eyes falling to something behind you and waving. Before you could look over your shoulder to what she’s looking at, or more rightfully, who she’s looking at, she holds your arm and stops you.

“You’re going to flirt hard with Abby Anderson, and you’re going to dress as a slutty cop when you go to the party this weekend with Abby.”

You open your mouth to ask who the hell is Abby Anderson and why does Leah think she can boss you around like that, but she cuts you as she speaks urgently. “You are a whore, act like it.” before you get a chance to feel offended at her words, you hear Jordan’s voice as he greets, “hi babe”

He rounds the table to sit at the booth, he presses a kiss to Leah’s forehead. She grins into it, and from the corner of your eyes you see a new figure, you turn to look at a tall blonde woman. She pulls out a seat and then turns to look at you when she notices your look.

“Hi, I’m Abby, Jordan’s friend.” You blink, taking in the sight of the tall, blonde woman who just introduced herself as Abby. Her gaze is steady and confident, her smile is charming and polite.

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N)” you reply, forcing a smile as you try to mask your confusion. Leah’s instructions echo in your mind, and you're not sure how to react. Who is this Abby Anderson, and why does Leah seem so intent on orchestrating some kind of encounter between you and her?

Leah’s so obvious as she says with a knowing look directed to you, “(Y/N), this is Abby Anderson,”

“Hi Abby, Leah tells me a lot about you.” you lie.

Abby chuckles, and nods, “she told me about you too. She has a knack for thinking all the lesbians on campus know each other.”

As you burst out in laughter at Abby’s comment, Leah feigns innocence as she asks, “y’all don’t? I know all the bisexuals on campus.”

Jordan leans back, his arm draped casually over the back of the booth, watching the interaction with a keen interest. "So, you guys ready for the party this weekend?" he asks.

Leah comments, throwing you another look as she said, “(Y/N)’s been looking forward to it,” she says, shooting a grin at Abby. “She never attended a frat halloween party.”

Abby nods, and looks at you, “It’s pretty fun, any thoughts for a costume?” Her voice is smooth, and it grounds you even when you glance at Leah that’s glaring at you.

“Uh…” you hesitate, glancing again at Leah that kicks your leg underneath the table. You finally answer, “uhm…I’m going as a cop.”

“No way! I’m going as a prisoner.” Abby said with pure surprise, and when your gaze falls at Leah and Jordan that are pretending to not have known. You also stammer as you try to lie, “wow, I had no idea!”

“What a coincidence, truly.” Leah says.

“You two should go together.” Jordan comments, and Leah claps as she affirms, “oh yes that’s such a good idea! That way you two won’t look like single losers, no offense.”

“None taken.” Abby says with an amused grin, then she tilts her head to you and asks, “so, what do you say?”

“Sure.” You nod.

As the night of the party approaches, your nerves begin to bubble up, and it's not just because of the skimpy costume Leah convinced you to wear. The real source of your anxiety is the possibility of running into Ellie Williams.

She attended all the parties, she never missed one. You on the other hand stopped attending them after the one you saw her at weeks before with that other girl in her lap. After that, you swore to never see her again. Which was easy, considering you had memorized her schedule like the back of your hand.

The idea of seeing her at the party, mingling with others and having fun, twists your stomach into knots.

“When’s Abby picking you up?” Leah asks, her voice coming out of the speaker of your phone.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the police costume's accessories for the umpteenth time, trying to focus on anything other than the potential encounter. “In five minutes, you on the way the party?”

“Yeah, Jordan is in the car with me.” She answers.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Cool, I’ll see you guys there,” you say, forcing a smile that Leah can’t see.

“Hey, you'll be fine," Leah reassures, her tone softening. "Remember, this party is about you having fun and maybe getting to know Abby better. Don't worry about Ellie. If she shows up, just ignore her. You've got this."

You nod, even though she can't see you, and glance at the clock. Time seems to drag and race simultaneously, your thoughts racing ahead to every possible scenario that could unfold at the party. The memory of seeing Ellie with another girl, looking so carefree and happy, still stings. It was that moment that made you realize it was time to let go.

A knock on your door startles you out of your reverie. You quickly grab your phone, ending the call with Leah. "Abby's here. I'll catch you later."

"Have fun, (Y/N)!" Leah calls out before you hang up. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your costume and taking a deep breath.

When you open the door, Abby stands there, a grin on her face. She's in her prisoner costume, complete with fake tattoos on her arms. She was wearing a short sleeved orange button down, the first five buttons left open and giving you a good look into her chest. “Hey, Officer,” she jokes lightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please don’t arrest me just yet, I have a party to attend.”

You laugh, though it’s tinged with nervousness. “I’ll let you off the hook just this time.” you reply, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

The drive to the party is filled with light chatter, Abby doing most of the talking. She seems at ease, excited for the night ahead, and her energy is contagious. You try to focus on her words, on the fun you're supposed to be having, but a part of you can't stop thinking about Ellie.

It’s truly the pinnacle of loser behavior as your friends always tell you, but you can’t help it. She plagues your mind, and everything about her haunts you.

As you arrive at the party, the music and laughter spilling out from the house only amplify your anxiety.You and Abby climb the steps leading up to the door, and enter through the wide door. Your eyes scan through the dim lit room with the red and green lights. The music pulses through the room, a steady beat that seems to synchronize with the thrumming in your chest. You scan the room, your eyes darting from group to group, hoping to spot familiar faces—or perhaps to avoid one in particular.

"Wow, it's packed," Abby comments, leaning in close to be heard over the music. Her presence is comforting, a steady anchor in the sea of partygoers.

You nod, your eyes still searching the room. Suddenly, you spot Nora and Mel in one of the corners, engaged in an animated conversation. They're dressed up too, Nora as a pirate with a makeshift sword at her side and Mel as a witch, complete with a pointed hat and a fake broomstick.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of your friends. You nudge Abby and point in their direction. "There are Nora and Mel," you say, a genuine smile breaking through your earlier anxiety.

Abby smiles back, nodding. "Let's go say hi."

As you and Abby approach Nora and Mel, their faces light up with recognition. Nora waves excitedly. "Hey, Abby! (Y/N)! Over here!"

Mel, grins widely, “there you two are! We were wondering when you'd show up." She gives you both a quick hug. "And look at you, Abby! Going all out with the prisoner theme, huh?" Nora hands you a drink that you down, hoping it will calm down your nerves.

Abby laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks” she says as she’s glancing at you, "and (Y/N) makes a pretty convincing cop, don't you think?"

Nora nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely! You two look great. Perfect match for the night." She takes the empty cup from you and places it somewhere else. Eager to find another drink, you take the red cup from Mel’s hands and down it too.

A new song starts playing, and as you recognize the song from the beginning of it. Nora’s eyes widen and she pushes you and Abby to the direction of the dance floor, “this is (Y/N)’s favorite song! You two should dance together!”

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Leah most likely roped Nora into it too. The mission of getting you to get laid by someone new to get over your weird feelings for Ellie.

It seems like your friends are determined to push you out of your comfort zone tonight. Abby, ever the good sport, grins and shrugs. "Well, if it's your favorite song, we have to dance," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Caught in a case of mild embarrassment, you let yourself be led to the dance floor. When you reach there, you kick out all the embarrassment out of your head, and then turn around as you bring Abby’s hands to rest on your waist from the back.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but if your friends are so eager for you to sleep with Abby, you might as well do that. It’s probably the tell-tale signs of you being tipsy but the idea of making out with Abby seems like a good idea right now. You like her just enough, and she seems to like you too.

With that, you start grinding your ass on her. Abby leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "You're a pretty good dancer," she says and you can hear her teasing grin.

You smile back, feeling a flush of warmth to your cheeks and neck as one of her hands on your waist roams underneath your tits.

“Do you like my costume?” you ask, your hand resting on her own and you tilt your head to the side to allow her to press her face to your neck. She breathes in your perfume and whispers back, “I love it.”

You’re about to whisper the same line you used on Ellie when she saw you wearing that tiny scarlet dress she likes in that first party you met her. I wore it just so you’d sleep with me. But your eyes fall on the very same Ellie Williams.

Standing right to the side, and glaring at you like you were the one that cursed her with seven years of bad luck. Her piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and any playful mood you had vanishes instantly. The weight of her stare is too much, and instinctively, you pull back from Abby, the space between you widening in an instant.

Abby, sensing the shift, looks at you with concern, “something wrong?”

“I—I need to go to the bathroom.” you lie, and then take unbalanced steps towards the stairs to use the upstairs bathroom. Your mind races, unsure of what to do next. The party, the music, and the laughter all fade into the background as you enter the toilet.

You allow the cold water to sting your hands as you can’t really wash your face.

But before you can fully collect your thoughts, the door swings open, and Ellie steps in, closing it behind her with a quiet click. The small space suddenly feels even smaller, the air charged with the unresolved tension between you.

Ellie’s eyes are a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place. She takes a step closer, her jaw set. “What the hell was that?” she asks, her voice low but intense.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You rest your hands on the sink as you scoff, “why do you care?” then you push your weight back while turning around to face her, “you moved on, and I’m trying to move on.”

“Is that what it was? Moving on?”

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You want to say yes, to tell her that you’re over her, but the truth is, you’re not sure. Seeing her now, the intensity of your feelings crashes over you like a wave, and you realize that moving on is much harder than you thought it would be.

“Actually, it’s not moving on. We were never something, it was never that deep between us.” You say.

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you stare at her, before you stepped closer to the door and invade her personal space, “baby, no attachment.” you use the same words she told you that last night you slept with her.

Without waiting for her reaction, you turn and push open the bathroom door. You walk out, the noise of the party flooding back in, a stark contrast to the tense silence of the small room. As you step into the hallway, your heart races, the adrenaline from the confrontation making your pulse quicken.

Forcing yourself to keep moving, and trying to put as much distance between yourself and Ellie as possible. You promise yourself that night that you won’t allow her to take up one thought of your mind.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader

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bitchinbarzal · 3 months ago

Text

Team Mom | C Keller

summary: you’ve become somewhat of a mom to the team.

Clayton isn’t an outwardly emotional guy. He keeps things pretty level, takes things as they come, and never makes too big a deal out of anything. But when he’s named the first captain in Utah’s history, he almost loses it.

Almost.

He holds it together in front of the cameras, in the locker room, even when his teammates shower him with congratulations. He keeps it together when he shakes the GM’s hand, when he hears his name in the announcement, when he pulls on the jersey with the “C” stitched on the front. But the second he gets home and sees you standing there with a cake that says Congratulations, Captain! in slightly smudged icing, he feels the emotions creep in.

“Did you bake that?” he asks, stepping closer, a small grin tugging at his lips.

You scoff “Absolutely not. You think I had time to make a cake between running errands for your team?”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. You smell like vanilla, probably from the frosting you insisted on fixing yourself “Thank you” he mumbles into your hair.

“For the cake? It was the least I could do—”

“No” he cuts in, pulling back just enough to look at you. “For everything. For dealing with the guys. For being here”

You roll your eyes, but there’s warmth in them “I don’t deal with them. I like them”

That’s debatable.

The thing is, you’ve been around Clayton’s team long enough that you’ve become part of the fabric of it. And somehow, without realizing it, you’ve ended up being something of a—

“You know you’re like our team mom, right?” Logan says casually one night at dinner.

You nearly choke on your drink “Excuse me?”

“Oh, for sure” Dylan agrees “You’re always checking in on us, making sure we have food, giving us rides when needed—”

“I once drove you to practice because your car was in the shop.”

“Yeah, and you packed snacks,” Logan reminds you.

“I was already going to the grocery store!”

Clayton, for his part, is having way too much fun with this. He leans back in his chair, watching as his teammates list off all the things you do for them.

The way you remind them to bring extra layers when they travel somewhere cold, the way you make sure they eat something green at least once a week, the way you’ve somehow memorized their coffee orders and deliver them without asking.

“I also pack your lunches” you argue, looking pointedly at Clay “Am I your mom, too?”

He smirks “Nah, i think that makes you my wife”

Your face burns, and the guys lose it, laughing at your expression.

The nickname sticks.

You don’t particularly like it, but you don’t hate it either. At least, not enough to stop the guys from calling you “Mom” every time they need something.

It starts off small.

“Mom, can you sew this button back on?”

“Mom, can you look at this text and tell me what it means?”

“Mom, I forgot my headphones — do you have an extra pair?”

And then it escalates.

“Mom, I may or may not have spilled coffee on my white dress shirt, and I need it for a team event tonight”

“Mom, can you send me that soup recipe?”

“Mom, I think I have scurvy”

“Mom, I—”

“I am not your mother!” you remind them.

“You’re the team mom” they reply, like it’s a fact of life.

And the thing is? You kind of are.

Clayton never says it out loud, but he loves it. He loves the way you’ve made his team feel like a family, how you take care of them in ways he never even considered. It’s not just about the meals or the reminders—it’s the way you care. The way you sit through their rants about bad calls, the way you text them good luck before games, the way you make their wins feel bigger and their losses feel smaller.

He knows he’s the captain, but he also knows that this team wouldn’t feel the same without you.

And maybe, one day, he’ll put a ring on your finger to make it official.

For now, though, he’ll settle for knowing that when he puts on that jersey with the “C” on it, he’s not leading this team alone.

He’s got you.

#clayton keller x reader #clayton keller imagine #nhl imagine

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narcjsistx · 7 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃 ❘ reo, bachira, kaiser, rin, sae and shidou

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— reo mikage

"are you sure you want to do it? I mean, it seems a bit stupid actually" says your boyfriend in front of you, from the side not visible from the phone camera "obviously! and no, it's not stupid" you say clapping your hands excitedly, placing yourself perfectly in the center of the lens, looking towards the direction of the boy, who still seems perplexed "okay, but what should I do? I mean, come there and get you? run away with you in my arms? run and-" says the purple haired boy , but only now you notice that the '3-2-1' timer is starting on the screen "DO AS YOU THINK! IT'S STARTING" you say gesturing in his direction

it all started less than 5 minutes ago. you had gone out together and it was getting dark, so to avoid being in the dark, you had taken refuge in a corner of a well-lit park without too many people inside. sitting on the bench you started scrolling on tiktok to pass the time, and you had come across this trend, which you immediately showed to Reo, all excited. The boy hadn't exactly shared the same happiness as you, but if it meant making you happy, he wouldn't mind do it

the trend song starts, and without stopping smiling, you look in the direction of Reo, who still seems unsure of what he's actually supposed to do. at the moment in which he should appear according to the trend he takes a few steps forward, making himself partially visible to the camera "come on, don't worry!" you whisper to him, placing a hand forward

you see him nervous but in this situation he seems damn cute. he takes a few more steps forward, takes your hand and pulls you to the other side of the lens, making you partially visible and him impossible to see from the camera. he chuckles nervously and you think you see him slightly calmer in the moment he brings his face closer to yours, placing both of his hands on your hips. you giggle seeing him calmer, not rejecting his kiss when he delicately closes the distance between your lips and his. from the camera now only you could be seen kissed by someone not visible, but maybe you would have published that video on instagram stories anyway

— bachira meguru

"you have to take it slow, not like you've tried before!" you say, trying to hold back a laugh, putting yourself in the center of the camera lens again. the situation had escalated the moment you mentioned that trend to Bachira, but hey, you were really thinking of doing something calm with your boyfriend? we're talking about him, after all

"I'll be serious. and definitely calm, I promise" Meguru says, walking back behind the camera, where it isn't visible. you know very well that he is probably telling you this just to make you press "start" but how could you even remotely not laugh with his explosive character?. you sigh in amusement, pressing the button before jogging back to your seat. you settle yourself during the usual '3-2-1' and you can swear by the way he's smiling that between you and Bachira he's the one having the most fun. The song starts

even before the part where the second person would normally appear arrives, Bachira starts running towards you, and you can't help but takes a few steps back as you shake your hands in his direction, no longer able to hold back your laughter. hurricane Bachira comes at you, grabbing you by the waist as you latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Meguru runs to the other side of the camera with you practically clutched to his chest, both of you laughing like it's the funniest thing in the world. even after arriving at the desired place, Bachira continues to run, not letting you go "the trend is over!" you say, no longer hearing the music as he runs again “my stamina no!” he says laughing

— micheal kaiser

"ich denke, es ist der erste trend, den sie vorschlagen, der mir wirklich gefällt" the boy says crossing his arms, and you glare at him for a few seconds "I know you're cursing me, but it's too late. besides, you know very well that I don't understand you when you speak in German!" you say tapping your fingers against his chest, a gesture that makes him smile "trust me, I wasn't cursing you. but the sentence seemed more beautiful said in German" he says proudly

"oh, definitely. as if it didn't seem like a language made up only of insults..." you say, shrugging your shoulders. since you were with Kaiser you had more or less learned a few phrases in german, but every time you said it, or he or Ness said it, it just seemed like mean insults. Kaiser is now amused by how you label his native language 'bad', but the first few times he was really shocked by how you labeled it "come on, start the trend" he says taking a few steps back, leaving the camera in front of you. you nod, preparing yourself

Kaiser hits the "start" button, and the usual trend song starts. everything flows normally until he enters the scene, at the precise moment. he approaches you, and as you had agreed, he simply has to take your hand, leave a kiss on it and run out of the camera with you next to him. you are surprised when you see him bend over slightly, just enough to pick you up, placing his arms around your butt to get up "Mihya!" you say in surprise, instinctively placing your hands on his shoulders as you are picked up. Kaiser doesn't say anything, he just spins you around while you're still holding onto him, your laughter the only thing audible between you. at the precise moment the song ends he raises his head slightly, just enough to place a small kiss on your lower lip only

"wir sollten so etwas öfter machen, wenn das dazu führt, mein liebling"

— rin itoshi

"you know I hate this stuff" Rin says while still sitting on his bed, you standing in front of him between his two legs "but you also hate it when I'm sad, right?" you ask, caressing his face, and without thinking twice he looks down. you know you have him practically tied around your finger, and above all, you love seeing him all so sulky for gestures, like caressing him or kissing him, which are now normal for you after years of relationship

"you don't even look at me anymore?" you say teasing him affectionately "okay. quick and painless" he says standing up, placing you to the side as he heads to the corner of his room, hidden by the camera on your phone that you've already set up on top of his desk. you smile happily, running to hit “start” before moving back a little further, just enough to be seen

the song starts, you pretend nothing happened as the trending girls you've seen and seen hundreds of times on tiktok usually do. at the right moment, Rin takes a few steps forward, taking your hand while, not running as the trend would say to do, he takes you a little further to the right

he stops with your hand still intertwined with his in a position still visible from the camera. you tilt your head not understanding why he stopped, but the words die in your mouth, replaced by a little squeal, when he brings your hand to his mouth to leave a kiss on the back, knight style with his princess "Riiin!" you say observing the scene, the song now over. he looks up for only a few seconds, and a light pink tinge is visible on his cheeks "I said painless, right?"

— sae itoshi

Sae hated being late, he hated the ReAl ceremonies he had to attend every month, he hated having to be with all those averagely mediocre soccers who for one evening pretended to be all great friends when in reality they insulted each other in the locker room

Sae loved seeing you dressed in red, he loved seeing you all happy for things that were actually stupid, he loved seeing you in your best dress all made up and ready for the ceremony which you also regularly attended

At the moment he was in both situations, both ready and well dressed, but late because you had suddenly found a trend on tiktok that you had saved months and months ago promising yourself that, sooner or later, you would do it with your boyfriend “Y/n, really, we have to go” the boy says, standing in the doorframe. you were at least 20 minutes late, the limousine outside the house occasionally honked, letting you know that you had to leave as soon as possible

"come on, if you keep going like this it won't take long!" you say, reapplying the lipstick on your lips, burgundy red. Sae would hardly ruin that lipstick placed on your lips so perfectly, but now he's not even in the mood to snort at you "we have to go" he says tapping his fingers on his watch, noticing that the 20 minute delay has now become 30 "I'm almost done!" you say, putting down the lipstick and putting the camera in front of you, positioning the sound of the trending song on the fly. Sae looks at you, a hint of nervousness running through him: hell, why can't you two just stay home?

"Y/n" calls you, but you signal him to stay still because you just need to play the song, and then move away just enough to let the camera see you. Sae, probably for the first time since you know him, raises his voice a little, but not screaming, just slightly louder than normal “damn, can you put that phone down and move?” he says looking at you, and just as you look up in his direction, the song starts. "sorry" you mumble embarrassed, taking a few steps back to grab your bag placed on your bed, and the boy only now seems to understand how out of character this was for him. he didn't even raise his voice when lil Rin made trouble, why he raised it at you now?

you turn again to walk towards the door, bag clutched in your hands, but two hands gently cup your face, resting on the sides of your cheeks. Sae kisses you, caressing your skin, murmuring against your lips something that remotely sounds like an apology. only then do you hear the song coming from the phone, which obviously hasn't stopped: you are perfectly in time with the timing of the trend, the kiss perfectly in time with what should happen in the millions of videos you have seen with this sound. maybe you should have bothered him more if these were the results: perfect trends and breathtaking kisses

— shidou ryusei

"come back, back... here!" your boyfriend says, while you scroll down with your finger, seeing again videos that you already saw a few seconds ago. you were sitting on Shidou's lap, you on the phone while he played his usual FIFA game on the console. by chance he had glanced at your phone, and suddenly, his attention had been caught by a video that you had saved, promising that you would show it to him once he finished the game

"turn on the sound. we'll do it now" the boy says putting the joystick to his side, and you turn around looking at him perplexed "we should get up to do it" you say tilting your head, but he grins "trust me. play the sound " he says, and you decide to do as he says, albeit a little confused by his intentions. access the camera, where your faces are shown through the reflection. you set the audio and press "start", curious to understand what he has in mind... after all we are talking about Shidou, in his head he has an order that only he understands, and that not even you dare to change or interfere with... but you loved him for this too, although it was definitely surprising

the trend song starts, you turn slightly to look at him and see him strangely prepared "what do you want to do-", you ask just before the part of the sound starts where he should come out and take you, pulling you away, but you feel one of his arms behind your back and the other ome on the bottom of your knees, just at the right time

you are picked up bridal style by your boyfriend, who starts running around the large living room of his house, holding you tightly so you don't fall. you hold the phone with difficulty with your hand, feeling shaky from running. you both burst out laughing as you hold onto his chest to stay as stable as possible. you hadn't exactly respected the rules of the trend, but you had probably created your own 100 times more beautiful and above all sweeter. typical of your boyfriend

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greengoblinswifey · 3 months ago

Text

The Deal

pairing— nerd!luigi x popular!bitchy!reader

summary— Luigi was the nerd who always had his eyes on you, the popular girl who was way out of his league. You made a habit of teasing him for it and he never knew he could have a chance with him until you made a deal. If he got you an A on your assignment, you'd let him take you on a date. Based on this request.

warnings— praise kink, oral(m,f), fingering, praise kink, slight sub!luigi, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— Luigi’s website for updates!

Luigi had always stared, it was impossible not to notice those piercing eyes lingering on you in lectures, even in the library. He was subtle about it, but you knew. He wasn’t like the frat guys or the football players you used to date, and he knew that too. No matter how deep his crush ran, he never thought he’d stand a chance.

So, you gave him one, for fun. It started small, teasing him whenever you caught him looking. A slow smirk, a roll of your eyes. Then it escalated, leaning in close just to watch him stammer, calling on him just to hear him scramble for an answer. Your little entourage found it hilarious. But the best part? Making him do your assignments.

“I could help you study instead,” he had suggested once, trying so hard to sound confident.

“Why the fuck would I study when I have you?”

And like everyone else in this school, he fell to his knees for you. No questions asked.

The last assignment had been brutal, and you’d made him an offer just to amuse yourself. “If I get above a 90, I’ll let you take me on a date,” you had smirked, watching his face light up like you’d just handed him the moon. Cute.

And, well, he was. Not just in the typical nerdy way, but genuinely. Dark curls, sharp jaw, broad shoulders that you knew hid something impressive under those hoodies.

All week, you kept up the act, teasing him relentlessly. Your friends joined in, laughing, asking if he really thought he stood a chance. He never had an answer. Maybe he didn’t believe it himself.

Then the grade came back. 98%.

You were shocked—actually shocked. You turned to him, eyes wide, before practically throwing yourself into his lap, squealing. “Oh my God, Lulu! You’re a genius!” Your lips pressed to his cheek in an impulsive kiss, even using the nickname you had given him and when you pulled back, his face was bright red, completely frozen.

You got up, laughing in his face.

“S-so, does this mean I get to take you on that date?” he stuttered.

You paused, tilting your head, really looking at him. You’d been so busy playing with him that you hadn’t noticed just how attractive he really was.

“Yeah,” you said, surprising yourself. “You can.”

And the way his breath hitched? Worth every second.

A couple days later, he was at your door to pick you up, but honestly? He still couldn’t believe this was happening.

You, the popular girl everyone wanted , the one who always had something snarky to say—had actually agreed to go out with him. And now, you stood in front of him, looking so effortlessly gorgeous that it made his chest feel tight.

“Still staring, Lulu?” you teased, stepping outside, the smirk on your lips and the way the nickname rolled off your tongue making his head spin.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he opened the car door for you. “Guess I can’t help myself.”

You slid in, watching him as he walked around to the driver’s side. Even when you weren’t messing with him, there was something about you that made him feel unsteady in a way he liked more than he wanted to admit.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you joked.

He shot you a glance, shifting into drive. “What, you thought I’d back out?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy chickened out around me,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, well. I’m not like them,” he scoffed.

You grinned. “No, you’re not.”

And for the first time all night, you were the one staring.

Luigi was a proper gentleman all night. From the moment he picked you up, he was attentive, opening doors, pulling out your chair, complimenting you like you were the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen. “You look beautiful,” he said softly, as his gaze lingered on you from across the table.

And for the first time, you actually talked. Really talked. It took effort on his part, his usual nervousness was there, but he pushed through, and you realized just how intelligent he was. Thoughtful, passionate, with so much more to offer than just the schoolwork you made him do.

Meanwhile, the wine had left a pleasant buzz in your veins, making everything a little hazier, a little bolder. And Luigi, he looked good, really good. That sharp jaw, the way his tie hung slightly loose now, how his dark curls made him so much more attractive, when he leaned forward, elbows on the table, talking about something that made his eyes light up.

By the time he drove you home, you could feel the buzz of the alcohol mixing with something else entirely. He had given you his jacket, paid the bill without hesitation, and now, on the drive back, he was rambling.

“I had such a great time tonight,” he said, gripping the wheel a little too tightly. “Thank you f-for actually going out with me. I mean, I know you could’ve bailed, and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but you didn’t, and—God, you are just—stunning. Like, I still can’t believe—”

You cut him off mid sentence, leaning over and pressing your lips to his. He gasped into it, shocked, but you could feel how quickly he melted, his hands twitching as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

By the time you pulled back, he was breathless.

“Are you d-drunk?” he stammered, eyes darting across your face.

“Why? Was that a sloppy, drunk kiss?” you smirked.

“No—God, no, it was amazing, but—” His face was burning. “Why would you ever kiss me?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his tie and tugging him toward the door. “Because I want you.”

You barely heard his shaky inhale before you pulled him inside, locking the door behind you.

Then, his lips were on yours again, this time, with more desperation, more hunger. His hands hovered, uncertain, but you could feel the way he shivered when you tangled your fingers in his curls.

And when he let out the softest, most helpless whimper? It made your pussy clench around nothing.

Luigi’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, shedding your dress only leaving you in lingerie, his wide eyes raking over your figure. He had always thought you were stunning, but this left him speechless.

“You— you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, almost in awe, his hands hesitating before resting on your waist.

You smirked, amused by his reaction. “Cat got your tongue, handsome?”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, I just, I never thought I’d ever—” He cut himself off, choosing instead to trail his fingers over your skin.

His admiration sent a rush straight to your pussy and when he finally gathered himself enough to kneel, shift your underwear, kiss your clit and murmur soft praises against you, you felt something shift. It wasn’t just the usual teasing, the push and pull you were so used to, it was something more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered as he ravished your pussy. “So beautiful, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, pulling him into your pussy, his nose nudging your pelvis.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathless, fingers circling your leaking hole.

You nodded frantically, bucking your hips, needing more.

His tongue lapped at your juices and he slipped a finger inside you, curling, like he was trying to memorize your walls. No one had ever been so focused on your pleasure.

“Fuck, Lu, you’re so good at this,” you moaned, hands gripping his hair.

Your praises willed him on and he hooked a hand under you, tilting your body upwards as his lips engulfed your clit and his finger thrusted inside you.

“Just like that, I’m about to—” Your words were cut off by your own scream and an intense orgasm washing over you. Luigi carried you through it, slurping up your juices as your entire body convulsed.

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he panted, finally sitting up, lips glistening.

You smirked, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him on top of you. His cock was practically bulging out of his pants and you flipped him over, undoing his belt and pulling down his bottoms.

As his cock sprang free, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left your lips. Luigi was huge.

Now, it was your time to stutter. “Y-you’re so big.”

He was thick, long, veiny and hard. It almost looked painful. Hesitantly, you took ahold of him, your hand barely able to go around it.

“Really?” he asked, shooting you a curious glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s the least of my worries. Fuck, I want it to hurt,” you said, practically drooling as you stared down at his cock.

His breathing grew heavier, body practically shaking as you held his cock in your hand. But then, you let go of him, a smirk playing on your lips as you trailed your fingers down his chest after you ripped his shirt off, the buttons flying everywhere, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He was already breathless, watching you with wide, eager eyes, his hands gripping the sheets like he was bracing himself.

“You’re so easy to tease,” you murmured, tilting your head as you let your fingers ghost over his abs. He was built like a Greek God. “So worked up already, huh?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You, you’re just—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale when you licked his shaft, the warmth of your breath making him shiver.

His reaction only made you want to push him further. You placed a lingering kiss to his tip, feeling the way his cock twitched beneath you. “I haven’t even started, and you’re already falling apart,” you teased.

A whimper slipped past his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fisting the sheets even tighter as your lips wrapped around his tip. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

That sent a thrill through you. The way he was unraveling so easily, the way his breath hitched with every tiny movement, it boosted your ego.

When you finally took him down your throat, all the tension built up in him melted into a broken moan. His fingers trembled as they reached for you, barely managing to grip your shoulder as if he needed to ground himself.

“Feels so good,” he breathed, his voice laced with disbelief, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re—God, you’re amazing.”

His praise came in soft, desperate gasps, each one more raw than the last, and it only spurred you on. Every shaky breath, every whispered compliment, every helpless sound he made, it was enough to keep you bobbing your head steadily.

The way your tongue swirled as you took him into your throat, the way his pre cum and your salvia dripped down your chin, the way your eyes watered and the way your mouth stretched wide to accommodate his size had him whimpering so loudly.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he managed to croak out, cock throbbing in your mouth.

You hummed around his cock, bobbing your head and massaging his balls as he bucked his hips, his entire body trembling. Your lips wrapped around the tip, suckling as you stroked his shaft and his hot load shot down your throat.

“Fuck. Thank you, thank you so much,” he moaned, toes curling as ropes of his cum coated your tongue.

You seductively shed yourself of your lingerie, your body bare as you climbed on top of him. He stared at you like you were a masterpiece, breathing heavy and his cock still hard. You took ahold of him, dragging the tip along your folds.

“You’re always such a tease,” he whined.

A primal sound left his lips as you sank down onto his cock, your nails digging into his chest. The air was knocked out of your lungs as took every inch.

“You feel so good. Oh my God,” he whimpered, hands resting on your hips.

After you finally adjusted to his size though it still felt like you were being ripped apart, you lifted yourself up and began bouncing on his cock. Your hands were flat on his pecs, your ass slamming down on him as you rode him like your life depended on it.

His whimpers went straight to your pussy, the sound like music to your ears as you circled your hips and moved back and forth. Every movement felt like he was brushing against your cervix.

His eyes averted between your tits and your wet pussy gripping his cock. “You look so beautiful riding me like that.”

A smirk was on your lips and you lifted yourself even higher, slamming yourself back down and making the entire bed shake as you bounced.

“Rub my clit,” you cried out, feeling your orgasm approach.

Without missing a beat, he began rubbing your clit in harsh circles as you moved back and forth. He felt like he would black out, the sheer pleasure and how good you felt almost too much. You wrapped your hand around his throat, the action making his cock twitch and you knew he was close.

“Cum with me Lu. Cum inside me, you deserve it,” you panted, bouncing wildly.

He wrapped his arms around you and you fell on top of him, your entire body shaking, your pussy clamping tightly around him as you squirted on his raw cock. The rush of liquid sent him over the edge and as you came, you felt him cum deep inside you, his warm, sticky load filling you up.

You lay on top of him, still catching your breath. Luigi was staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as he tried to gather himself. Then, he looked at you as you looked up, eyes soft, admiration written all over his face.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking,” he murmured.

You smirked, but there was something tender behind it. “Yeah? You weren’t so bad yourself.”

His face flushed, and he looked away for a second, running a hand through his curls. “Seriously, that was amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow as you traced your finger on his arm. “You don’t have to say anything.” Then, quieter, “Just hold me.”

Luigi blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that. He’d seen you confident, untouchable—but never like this.

Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You exhaled, melting into him, letting yourself get lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For the rest of the weekend, he took you out on more dates—dinners, late night drives and movies. And each night ended the same way, his cock inside you, bodies and hearts growing more in sync.

But eventually, the weekend came to an end, and it was time to go back to school.

As you and Luigi walked through campus, hand in hand, the stares were unavoidable. People whispered, eyes wide with shock, questioning how he managed to end up with you. But Luigi didn’t care. Not when he had you beside him.

And you didn’t care either.

He was yours. And everyone else would just have to fall in line. You were the it couple now.

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