#i will continue to be extremely embarrassed about it! but still!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
cyarikaplease · 3 days ago
Text
oral fixation
summary: din eats pussy for the first time.
Din has a little problem, a hyper fixation you might say. He wants to eat you out so bad. It’s a deep, primal urge inside him. But being desperate to eat you out isn’t necessarily a problem, though. The problem is that he’s never done it before. He’s worried he’ll be bad at it. He’s worried you’ll hate it and never want him to do it again. That thought breaks his heart. He loves you more than anything else in the galaxy. All he wants to do is pleasure you. 
So what does every anxious, inexperienced man turn to at a time like this? He turns to porn. 
When you first got together, several many months ago, you brought a holo-pad onto the Crest. Din thought it was mainly for reading or mapping out a course for traveling. But what he didn’t realize is that you can watch videos on it, spicy videos even. You’ve brought up watching porn together as a method of foreplay, which he enjoyed, but he’s never watched them by himself.
Until now. 
You’re at the market on Nevarro. The Razor Crest is parked on the outskirts of town. Din is completely alone and he’s going to take advantage of that. He picks up the holo-pad and browses through the database of videos. He stops scrolling at a particular one titled, “Naboo Cutie Gets Her Flower Licked by a Mandalorian Daddy”. 
…Flower?
But the word “Mandalorian” in the title also caught his eye. He glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re not back yet before he clicks on the video. 
It looks like it was filmed somewhere on Naboo, in a random field. The woman is lying down on a blanket in the grass. It’s a sunny day out, her skin shiny and slick with some sort of body oil. The man kneels on the blanket, situating himself by her feet. He’s wearing Mandalorian armor that’s most likely fake. He takes off his helmet and hovers over her face. 
“Let daddy see your flower, princess,” he says.
That sentence sounds sort of awkward to Din but the woman seems to like it, whimpering in response. He makes a mental note of the dirty talk and continues watching. 
The man spreads her legs apart and crouches down so he’s face to face with the woman’s cunt. The camera zooms in on what’s going on and Din is thankful for that. He’s watching this to learn, not for his own pleasure. The man licks her entrance, running his tongue slowly up towards her clit. The woman lets out a long moan, most likely extremely exaggerated. But it doesn’t take long for the man to bury his face in her cunt, his nose grinding against her clit. The man slides two fingers inside her, driving the woman insane. She clearly likes it because soon enough, Din’s bunk is filled with the lewd noises of the woman’s moans and screams, and the absurd slurping noises the man makes. 
…It’s a little much for Din but eventually, he’s tuning out the noises and fantasizing about doing this to you. He’s so into his fantasy that he doesn’t notice you entering the Crest and standing behind him until you place a hand on his shoulder and ask, “What are you watching?”
He startles a bit, his body jolting a little before pausing the video. 
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” you chuckle.
“It’s okay…” he says, still feeling embarrassed.
“So, what are you watching?”
“Uhh…” He doesn’t finish, instead just handing you the holo-pad so you can see for yourself. 
You take it in your hands and unpause the video. Your eyes widen at what’s happening on the screen. 
“I see. What were you watching this for?”
“I want… I want to do that.”
“Really?” you ask, your lips curling into a suggestive smirk.
“Yes. I want. So badly,” he says, his strained horniness prominent in his voice. 
“Why?”
“I want to make you feel good.”
“You’re sweet,” you say, turning off the holo-pad and setting it on the shelf behind you, “Let’s do it.”
“Really?”
“Mhm,” you say, starting to undress. 
You toss your clothes into a small pile on the floor and kick off your shoes. Din moves so you can lie down on the bunk. He takes off his helmet to reveal his face, his eyes filled with lust and admiration. His face is still a sight you’re getting used to, always a treat. He wastes no time pressing his lips against your neck, licking and tugging at the soft skin with his teeth. He moves downward, trailing kisses along your collarbone before getting to your breasts. He takes one in his hand and runs his tongue along the other. He takes your nipple in his mouth, moaning as he sucks on it. He only recently took off his helmet in front of you. And ever since then whenever you’re intimate, he has the urge to christen your skin with his mouth in whatever way he can. He’s developed a sort of oral fixation, obsessed with kissing, licking, biting you, marking you up in places only he can see. 
He moves his mouth to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment before moving down your tummy and abdomen. He leaves goosebumps on your skin in the wake of his mouth, finally arriving at your groin. He takes a deep breath once he’s staring directly at your cunt. And that’s when he says, “Daddy’s gonna lick your flower, princess.”
You can’t help but laugh, just a little.
“What?”
“Flower?”
“Is that what I should call it?”
“Just call it what it is. Like pussy or cunt.”
“Okay,” he says shakily before licking a slow stripe up your cunt.
You shiver in response, prompting him to say, “Mmm, you like when daddy eats your pussy?”
“Much better. Ah!” you say, your words getting cut off by a moan he licks your cunt again. 
He licks up and down your entrance before moving to your clit, swirling his tongue around it. For it being his first time doing this, he’s not doing a bad job. The movement of his tongue circles faster and faster around your clit. 
But then he stops for a second much to your dismay. He picks up his head off the cot and tugs off his glove, tossing it on the floor. He brings two fingers to his mouth, moistening them and inserting one inside you slowly. He returns his mouth to your clit and curls his finger against your walls. It feels so good, but you need more. 
“More,” you moan softly. He hums against your cunt, sending a vibration up your core before he adds a second finger. He presses them against your g-spot and sucks on your clit simultaneously, a perfect combination of the two sensations. 
You feel yourself arrive at the edge and you moan out “Din, I’m gonna cum.”
He does falter the flow of his movements, instead picking up the pace. You cum against his face, your release soaking his hand and his chin. Your back arches up off the cot and your limbs are filled with waves of pleasure. 
But once you’re done coming you’re back down on the cot. Din laps up your release, savoring your test before pulling away and looking up at you, his facial hair soaked. 
“That was your first time doing that?” you breathe out, your voice still sort of high-pitched from your orgasm. 
“First time,” he affirms.
“Couldn’t tell,” you sigh. But then you quickly add, “Aside from the dirty talk.”
Can’t resist the opportunity to make fun of him, just a little bit. 
“I’ll get better at that, cyar’ika,” he promises.
“Your turn now?” you ask, moving to sit upright.
But instead, he places a hand on your tummy and gently pushes you back down. 
“Actually, I think I want to stay down here longer… That okay with you?” he says, followed by another lap at your cunt.
“Fine with me,” you sigh. 
66 notes · View notes
orpheusluvr · 2 days ago
Text
No Space (Norton x Female Reader)
NSFW WARNING
AHHHHH I’M SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN ALMOST A MONTH - writer’s block sure is awful, as I currently have 15 unfinished idv fics just sitting there untouched in my drafts and I have no idea if I’ll ever get to continue/finish them and publish them 😔 but luckily I managed to come up with something quick and fresh rn and finish it in one sitting so WOOOOOO
This is hella rushed btw, I just needed to post something ASAP 💔
Anyways this fic is basically you and your other teammates decoding the last cipher but only 3 can decode on this one and Norton basically attempts to decode too (I think you get the idea of what happens next 🙂‍↕️) also it’s summer skin norton btw cuz it’s my fav skin and I love writing about him with it yuhhhh
-
-
Another cipher had been decoded, which meant that there was just one more left. You found a nearby cipher and started decoding on it, while pinging your teammates to let them know your location so that they can come and help you.
The hunter was nowhere to be seen, strangely enough. Perhaps Alva was still chasing Norton, you assumed.
Naib began sprinting in your direction, while Eli also ran beside him. They both began helping you decode.
“Have any of you seen Norton?” You ask.
Naib shook his head.
“Must be busy playing with his magnets.” He scoffed.
“I’ll send Brooke to find him.” Eli said.
Just as he was about to send out his owl to search for Norton, he finally came running from the corner. His blonde hair swayed with his movements, while his open shirt flew behind him.
He stopped as he observed the cipher.
“Hm…no space for me, it seems.” He said.
“Yeah, no shit. Maybe make yourself useful and go to the exit gate while we finish this.” Naib said.
Norton gave a laugh and shook his head. He glanced at you.
“Nah, I’m gonna pass.” He said, walking towards you.
You were too busy decoding to even notice that he was right behind you. That was until you felt him. Your heart stopped for a moment as you felt his skin brush against yours as his arms moved towards the cipher.
Naib coughed.
“What the hell are you doing, Nort?” He said.
You gulped as you felt something poke against you. You knew exactly what it was, but you didn’t dare bring it up.
“I’m being useful.” He gave a crooked grin.
“Dumbass, you’re making Y/N uncomfortable. Just look at her.” Naib said, looking at you.
No, you weren’t feeling uncomfortable. In fact, you were enjoying this sensation. So much that the pool in your panties was enough evidence to back that up.
You always had a thing for Norton. Both of you would sometimes flirt here and there. But you had never imagined being in a situation like this, considering that he never decided to move things further.
Maybe the extremely short skirt you were wearing had awoken something inside him.
“Oh, my bad. Sorry Y/N, am I making you uncomfortable?” Norton whispered in your ear.
You continuously shook your head, your face reddening while struggling to speak.
“See? She’s fine.” Norton looked at Naib, who glared at him.
“Pfft, whatever. The poor girl’s probably too scared to even talk.” Naib said.
Norton moved upwards, and you immediately let out a whimper, covering your mouth in embarrassment. Naib eyed you suspiciously.
“Sorry…I failed a calibration…” you said, quietly.
Was this really happening, you ask? In front of Naib and Eli, too? Why did Norton decide to do something like this, something that you longed for so desperately, during the worst moment?
But what you didn’t know was that Norton loved taking risks.
After the cipher had finally been decoded, you let out a relieving sigh. Naib and Eli began running off to the exit gate, but Norton however had refused to move off from you.
But you were glad. Because now the both of you were finally alone. Unless Alva decided to find you.
“Norton…why are you doing this?” You ask him.
“You just look so tempting, with that skirt and everything.” He said, slowly grinding against you.
You bit your lip as you felt his clothed length graze against your clothed entrance.
“Just…be quick.” You pleaded.
Norton gave a smirk, not saying a word as he slid his hands up your thigh and pulled your panties down, then removed the belt to his shorts and freed his throbbing cock.
You arched your back, giving him easier access to his goal.
“Fuck…I never knew I’d ever be able to see you in this position.” He laughed to himself.
He pushed himself all the way in, his tip kissing your sweet spot in an instant. You threw your head back and let out a loud moan, feeling blissful at this sensation.
“The other 2 must be waiting for us so we gotta…finish…quick…” you panted.
“Don’t worry, I don’t go slow.” Norton whispered in your ear. And he was right. He immediately thrusted at such a quick pace that it was hard to keep up with his movements as your body was violently being rocked back and forth against the cipher machine. He slid a hand up your shirt, caressing one of your breasts and playing with the nipple while his other hand grabbed tightly against the side of your waist.
“Ngh…you feel so good…so damn good…” Norton groaned, feeling satisfied at the way your walls hugged his cock so tightly.
You felt like you were about to reach your climax, when all of a sudden your heartbeat increased. And it wasn’t because of Norton.
“N-Nort…” you whimpered.
“Hm? Gotta cum?” He said, completely unaware of what was going on.
“H-Hunter…nearby…” you managed to say.
Norton then realised that his heart was also beating fast.
“Shit…” he said, slowly pulling out.
You both lowered yourselves, trying your best to hide. Norton protectively held you close, your head resting against his bare chest while your legs quivered, still awaiting your climax which was slowly fading away due to the fear that had taken over your pleasure.
Alva was still nowhere to be seen, and eventually your heartbeats returned to normal.
Norton gently lifted you up in his arms.
“We should continue this at the manor where it’s safer.” He said.
You nodded, but then let out a sigh. You weren’t able to hit your climax, and the feeling was making you uneasy, but at least this time you wouldn’t have any interruptions. Hopefully.
20 notes · View notes
vulpinesaint · 1 year ago
Text
blindsided seeing a little youtube short and immediately recognizing that they were lipsyncing to a gender flipped call of duty audio. reeling with it actually. that was terrifying i'm in too deep
2 notes · View notes
sudokuplayer · 7 months ago
Text
i've watched only a few scenes of the movie WALL-E and i hate it so much 😮‍💨 and i also dislike all the Pixar movies released after that one. they really peaked with Ratatouille in my eyes
3 notes · View notes
whysamwhy123 · 7 months ago
Text
I'm writing AGAAAAAAIN
And it's TRRAAAAAAASH
But I don't CAAAAAAARE
Because it's FUUUUUUNN
2 notes · View notes
dutybcrne · 2 years ago
Text
Kaeya’s main love language to demonstrate his love/care for someone is Acts of Service, and every time someone refuses to let him do things for them, it makes him Sad
#hc; kaeya#//So#//An ask I was doing got nuked djbktg#//have this instead#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//he genuinely just wants to be useful to the people he cares about#//That;s it#//Even to the point of emotionally exhausting himself; but it doesn't matter bc he got to Do Something for them#//It's both a matter of making himself indispensable to them and just wanting to make them happy#//To be allowed to do things for them means they Trust him and Want him around; and that is extremely important to him#//He may act like a sass and relentlessly clown on someone; but he is so genuine about his intent in this regard#//To be unable to DO anything for his loved ones is a Curse#//getting refused may be met with casual dismissiveness but rest assured#//Once they're out of line of sight; he will be pouting like a puppy#//And it may reflect in his day-to-day after that; to his embarrassment#//Takes rejections in general a lot harder than most would think; but this especially guts him#//He'll still try to offer his aid; even if continually turned down#//He may even get a bit annoying in that regard#//But he's a stubborn one#//HAS to help his person with something; no matter how trivial#//Aside from that; he's also hella big on initiating AND being roped into spending Quality time with someone#//If helping someone out is a no go; a good way to keep him happy is just having him around or inviting him along in general#//Gives him a bit of hope his aid may be needed Later rather than now AND makes him feel wanted#//He's fine straight up just sitting off to the side while his person does their thing#//Mans is like a cat; so long as they are in his presence and him theirs; he'll be so happy#//So tldr; his To Others love language gesture is Acts of Service; and the way he best ACCEPTS love is Quality Time
2 notes · View notes
doux-amer · 2 years ago
Text
Sorry to the Swiss, but it’s a relief to see that Korea didn’t get knocked out with the biggest defeat in the Round of 16 lkdjflajfa. If only we went against each other and Portugal had Brazil, but oh well.
#as for spain–morocco...i unfortunately still care about spain so i was bummed#but i love seeing small and/or non-european countries make it and spain vs. morocco is even spicier because of their history#so i was thrilled for them! fully deserved! they played fabulously and that atmosphere was electric#everything was on their side. you could feel it in the air#really happy for them and hoping they continue to advance#kudos to them for their palestine flags (lol forever at fifa trying to make this a non-political event as possible#as if that's even possible...#and it turned out to be one of the most political with people unashamedly being demonstrative with their statements and gestures)#the narrative re: moroccan players who grew up in spain to immigrant families making it and representing morocco :') beautiful#as for spain's tactics...just reminded me of the times i got frustrated with lucho when he was at barca#why did he spend so much time putting nico and ansu on?! WHY stick so stubbornly to a strategy that isn't working?#as soon as he put nico on he ran in deep which broke up the great moroccan defense and it changed things up#instead of them continuing to pass horizontally or backwards 10000 times#they were breaking the wrong records with their passes and penalties god. embarrassing. though i suppose this is a return to form#2008–2012 were the golden years but spain always choked before then! this is on brand for them#they do have an extremely young squad though so with experience they'll become even more formidable#but even from the euros it was clear that they didn't gel well. not in the way that other NTs flop or crumble due to infighting#because they like each other a lot and there are fantastic players. it's just that there are some players that don't belong#or are missing altogether. great for spain to do a death by 1000 passes but who CARES#if you don't have anyone to pass to and my god spain's lack of an excellent forward is glaring#i wanted him to make thiago integral to the team but at the same time having a stacked midfield doesn't matter#if you can't FINISH
4 notes · View notes
wcters · 1 month ago
Text
𝟮𝟰 𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦 + 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗬 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗥𝗬 𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗘
Tumblr media
pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
word count: 2.9k+
summary: your view of the behind the scenes and video of “i ate and trained like lando norris for 24 hours”
warnings: swearing, some pda, sexual innuendos, flirting | here’s some redemption for lando, this may suck because i need to get better at writing transitions, please watch the video titled in the summary for context 😚
Tumblr media
You were awoken by the feeling of a finger grazing your hip. You mumbled something incoherent and went to go back to sleep when you felt a kiss on your cheek. “Time to get up.” You heard your boyfriend whisper from behind you. “Go away.” You mumbled, still not fully awake and angry that you had been woken up. “Unless you want to be caught walking around in just a shirt and underwear in front of a camera, you need to get up.”
You let out a groan and rubbed your eyes as you remembered what day it was. Lando was filming a Quadrant video with Ethan and the man who rivalled you in how much you love your boyfriend, Morgan ━━ otherwise known as “Angry Ginge”. You and him had a rivalry, though it was just fun and games, and Lando and Morgan make it known a lot. “Fine, fine.” You shooed him away with a movement of your hand and moved to lay on your back as you finally opened your eyes.
When you looked around, you were blessed with the sight of your boyfriends bare back as he changed into a basic hoodie and pants. You let out a wolf whistle and he turned around to face you with a look on his face. “What? Can’t appreciate my wonderful boyfriend?” He laughed and turned around to continue. “As long as I can do the same to my girlfriend.”
The two of you fell into a quiet conversation of how the day was going to go as you willed yourself to get up from your extremely comfy bed to get ready. “What time is it anyway?” You had a habit of keeping your phone plugged in in the living room because even though your boyfriend was a multimillionaire, the plug in on your side of the bed was shitty and both of you don’t bother to get it fixed. You didn’t mind it too much though. When Lando wasn’t away at races, he was here with you and he’d let you know the time. When he wasn’t, you’d use the plug in on his side because you sleep on his side when he’s away anyway.
“Around 7:15. Wanted to give you time to shower and put makeup on if you needed to.” He replied, heading out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. You hummed in acknowledgment even though he couldn’t hear you and you finished getting dressed before heading to the bathroom to do your skincare and put makeup on. By the time you were done doing that and made your way into the kitchen it was 7:45. As Lando got prepared for filming, you spent the rest of the time cleaning up things around the house. It wasn’t messy, per se, but you wanted the house to look good for the guests and the boys. You know both Morgan and Ethan wouldn’t care about some coffee mugs left on the table or some blanket strewn about, but you didn’t care.
As you unplugged your phone to check the time and see if you had any missed messages the doorbell rang. You put your phone down as to not be rude. You had met Ethan before, but you’d never met Ginge in person before. You heard the door open and greetings being said before there are footsteps and the four figures come into view. You hug Ethan while telling him you missed him and hoped he’s doing good before making your way over to Ginge. “Y/n.” He said as if a brawl is about to start. You play along, “Morgan.” There’s silence as the camera films the encounter before you hug and greet each other. “It’s nice to meet you in person.” You tell him as you pull away. “You two, I guess.” He joked. You roll your eyes.
“Well, welcome in.” Lando interrupted as he gestures to the apartment. You lead the boys through a tour of the house as you point out different rooms ━━ and you add on embarrassing stories about Lando that make him blush.
“He takes up more space with his trophy’s than with you,” Ginge teased as he looked at the trophies on the side table in the living room. Lando opened his mouth to respond but you do it first. “At least we have trophies to put out? What do you have? The award for most annoying person ever?” Morgan started to rant and you laugh as you lean into Lando’s body. “We hang photos elsewhere.” You answer seriously this time. “All the embarrassing ones stay in the camera roll though. I wear a bonnet to bed and Lando thinks it’s hilarious and takes pictures every time. I’ve tried to get him to wear one as it’s good at protecting your hair, but he claimed he couldn’t sleep with it.” “I couldn’t!” “I’d pay to see that.”
Morgan played with the box and ended up breaking it ━━ you know how to fix it, you’re prepared, and you all make conversations as they set up the “interview” spot in the living room and film them. After that, you all make your way to the kitchen. “That better not be what we’re eatin’.” Ginge exclaimed as Lando opened the door to the fridge. “This is your breakfast, my friend.” Lando smiled and pointed to the containers. Morgan turned to you, “are you eating that?” You shook your head and let out a ‘no’. “That’s for him and you guys, I get my own food.” You tell them. “I want whatever that is because it has to be better than this.”
“This might be one of the best breakfasts you’ll ever have.” Lando told them. “Mate, that looks like you ate reakfast and then threw it up.” Ethan joked. “It’s actually not bad,” you interrupted as you started to make your breakfast, “I’ve had it before. It’s quite good, although I’m not a fan of cinnamon.” “It has cinnamon in it?” Ginge asked. “Apple, cinnamon, and pecan.” Lando answered. They chat about the texture and make fun of it as you finish making your breakfast.
“You normally up at this time?” Morgan questioned Lando. “Yeah.” “What about you y/n?” “Depends on the day,” you reply, “I’m normally not up this early but with travelling and work it changes.” “What time do you go to bed?” Morgan continued. “Depends.” “On what?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “If they’re going at it, dirty bastards.” You laugh and Lando blushes at that. “It’s not always nighttime.” You winked at them before heading into the dining room and turning on your computer. You worked from home which made it easier to visit Lando at races. Most of them you went to, but sometimes you had to stay home as you had an important meeting or had to head into your works headquarters. You wanted to take the time you had right now to finish sending some emails and editing work before the day officially started.
There was some more conversation before Lando kissed your head and let you know that they were going to go do some training. A couple minutes passed before you were done replying to emails and things. “Y/n?” Lando called out to you from the workout room. “What?” You called back as you got up and closed your laptop. “Where are the workout bands?” “I think they’re in the bedroom.” You crossed your arms as you made your way into the hallway facing the room. “How have the workout bands made it to the bedroom?” Ethan asked out loud. “I do yoga in there because I like to watch my show while I do it,” you answered, “always so dirty minded Ethan.” You shake your head with a smile on your face.
Lando comes back with them and they continue with what they were doing before, obviously with some jokes ━━ especially about the mirror you have in there ━━ and Ginge “flirting” with your boyfriend. You joined in on some things like the planking and the stretches, but you opted out of most of it. Who could blame you? You preferred to ogle your boyfriend. You did the same when they moved on to the cryotherapy. “You not joinin’ us? Coward.” Morgan teased you as you stood behind the camera. “Mate, I do not need to be in -110 degrees. I didn’t do that full workout.” As they went in, you could hear the jokes and the laughing that was happening in there.
You turned to the camera to speak. “I’ve done that before, and let’s just say I never want to do it again. I felt like my tits were going to fall off. Their reactions are valid.” You told the camera as you knew their footage from inside was going in. When the three minutes were up, you let the boys know and they came rushing out as soon as the door was opened. “Mate, that was freezing.” Ethan said as he came out. “I felt the cold when the door was opened, I can’t imagine how you guys feel,” You laughed, “If you’re still cold when we get back to the house I’ll give you some blankets.”
The boys and you came home around one pm after the cryotherapy and they sat around the dining table as they get introduced to their lunch. You had leftovers from when you went out for dinner a couple days ago so you were eating that. Since this morning, you could tell that the boys were probably going to hate the menu today. You felt a little bad, but also thought it was funny. It was their video idea. You could hear Morgan’s complaining in the kitchen.
“What’s this though?” You hear Ginge ask as you enter the dining room. “Radish.” You answer as you take a peice of chicken from Lando’s bowl and put in your mouth. “Oh, that’s disgusting.” Ginge exclaimed once he puts the radish in his mouth. “I’ll just eat the mango, I’m not having anything else.” Ginge said with a furrow in his brow. “No, eat all of it.” “You can’t force it down my throat. “Here,” you started as you swallowed your bite, “eat what you can and you can have this. It’s still quite healthy but I assume it’s things you like.” You traded your meal with his. “I like those so I’ll eat them.” The camera panned to Lando and his face of disbelief. “I don’t know how you can like that.” Morgan glanced between you and the plate with disgust. You shrugged, “his nutritionist makes good food.” Ethan made a face that obviously says he disagrees and Lando laughs. “How often do you have this?” Morgan asked him as he takes a bit of your food. “About five times a week.” Lando answered, “though sometimes I’ll have leftovers like y/n was.”
“Do you ever get bored of this and think ‘fuck it, I’ll have a pizza’?” Lando laughs and then nods. “All the time.” You revealed to them, “though he’s usually good at sticking with that.” You point to the bowl in front of him. “Does y/n eating regular food make you jealous?” Ethan questioned and you laugh at the choice of words. “Sometimes, but she eats healthy as well so it’s the same level of nutrition and tastes quite similarly.” Lando explained. “Sometimes I’ll sneak him a pizza though.” You reveal as you smirk. “Hey, I do that to myself all the time.” Morgan joked.
There was some quiet conversation as the boys started their game of Jenga before Ginge spoke up. “How’d you two meet?” He asked as Ethan was trying carefully to get a brick out. “I was actually doing a media internship with McLaren in 2021. I have to be honest, I had no idea who Lando was. I had heard of Lewis a couple times but I wasn’t a big F1 fan. McLaren was just an opportunity that popped up and I took it.” You explained to everyone. “So, officially ending the rumours, you’re not a gold digger?” Morgan asked as a joke. You hummed, “I can’t say that.” You laugh. “I’m just kidding, no, I’m not. We made a deal that we half most things but he just gets to the bill before me most of the time. I need to work on being quicker.” The camera panned to Lando as he ate. “I like to spoil her.” “I’d let you spoil me Lando.” Ginge winked as the brunette. You jokingly glare at him. “I’m sorry, he just loves me too much.” He continued to say, “he’s just afraid to admit it.” “Oh yeah, I’m sure.” You nod slowly.
“How did you ask her out?” Ethan asked Lando. He put a finger to his lips, “it’s a secret.” Because he wouldn’t tell everyone looked at you. “He doesn’t want to tell because it’s embarrassing. I’m not allowed to tell.” You told them the truth. It was. If he just felt it was embarrassing you would’ve told but it really was embarrassing. He had a whole plan of what he was going to do but when I happened he got nervous and fucked it. The boys begged to hear the story. “The only thing I’ll say is I’m surprised I said yes.”
“It was that bad?” Morgan asked in disbelief. “I mean, I knew you were bad at flirting but I didn’t think it was that bad.” Lando blushed and tried it come up with a response. “Even if I knew before he asked me out he was rich, that probably wouldn’t change my chances of saying no.” Both Ethan and Ginge grimaced. “Does Max know?” Ethan then asked. “Nope. No one knows except for me and Lando ━━ and maybe Daniel who might’ve witnessed it.” Lando then jokingly hit you on the back of the head and you knew it was time to stop. You laughed and stuck your tongue out at him.
The next thing that Lando had planned for them was sim racing. He explained how it works and what circuit it was set on before he got on it to set up a baseline for what time they needed to get. “Who do you thinks going to be the best?” Ethan asked you as Lando was in the chair. “I mean . . . Ethan doesn’t even have his license but in that one quadrant video where they tested everyone’s driving skills he did alright,” you answered, “it’s also happening on a screen. I’ve never seen you drive,” you pointed to Morgan, “but I don’t know if I’d trust you.” Ethan gave you a fist bump as the ginger put a hand over his heart. “That wounds me, y/n.” “Just being honest.” You shrugged. “Too honest in my opinion.”
After setting a time and letting Ethan have a practice go, he let the boys know they had to be within 4.5 seconds of his time - having changed it from 10 and then having a mini fight with Ginge. It was Ethan’s turn first at the simulator. He did pretty well in your eyes ━━ besides hitting a cone and sliding off the track. Compared to Ginge, he was excellent. You didn’t know what was happening with Morgan and what he was doing, but you did know it was incredibly funny . . . And you definitely took videos of him freaking out that totally weren’t for blackmail.
After he crashed for the millionth time and you laughing again, he turned his face to you. “Do you want to give it a go then?” He challenge you. “Sure.” You replied, sliding into the seat as he got up. You’d done the sim a few times. Mostly Lando trying to teach you and you not getting it, but other times you’d be bored at the house and try to give it a try. You think you did well with the two times you tried it. You only crashed once and went off a few times, and were only a little better than Ethan. Morgan kept yelling and saying it was clearly rigged and that the software was dogshit.
The day in Monaco ended with going out for dinner and Lando taking the boys out for a helicopter ride. You didn’t know this, but in the final video cut there’d be clips but together of you and Morgan bickering all throughout the video and whenever this would happen, the camera would show either Lando and Ethan with a look on their face. Even though you pretended to not like Morgan, he was a pretty good guy. You had a good time with him and Ethan ━━ especially singing karaoke in the car.
And for anyone’s information, you were definitely forced to get Lightning McQueen crocs against your will.
+ moment featured in morgan’s vlog
You stood at the passenger side of the car with your arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “What?” Morgan asked you. “Why you starin’ at me like that?” “That’s my seat.” You tell him as you make a movement with your head. He makes a face, “you don’t claim seats. And I got here first. In the back you go.” That’s when Lando made his war to the car and into the drivers seat. “That’s her seat, mate.” He told the ginger. He makes the same face as he did before. He shakes his head and gets up, pulling his phone out of his pocket and begins to film. “This is discrimination against the poor. I’m suing you.” You smile at him. “Too bad, I’m his girlfriend, I get the passenger seat.” “You just wait until he dumps you for me, babe. Then you’ll be sorry.” “When that day happens, you can get the story of how he asked me out.”
2K notes · View notes
hon3y-y · 3 months ago
Text
──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !! maybe satoru got a little ahead of himself when he told you to throw away all of your vibrators…
cw : smut (surprised?), sex toys(again, is anyone surprised?), sub-ish!reader, dom-ish!satoru he’s more cheeky than anything, overstim & edging, etc etc…
*not edited*
Tumblr media
when satoru was young and immature two weeks ago, he hated vibrators. maybe it was jealousy but when he found your little collection, he became a pouty mess. am i not good enough? do those make you feel better than i do? he even went as far as giving you the silent treatment, stating it was a ‘betrayal’.
you just rolled your eyes, taking his overreaction as immaturity and allowing him to throw his tantrum by himself. it didn’t last long, coming to its end one late saturday night where he climbed into the bed with a cheeky smile on his face.
“show me..” he mumbled, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your neck. his eyes were wide, pleading almost, lip tucked behind his teeth, his hands caressing your exposed skin and slowly unbuttoning the sleep shirt you wore.
“oh but i thought you wanted me to ‘throw all of them out’?” your words made him scoff.
“that wasn’t exactly what i said—“
“toru, i saw the tears in your eyes—“ before you could continue, his lips were on yours. it was rough, trying to shut you up which only made you smile. “you done being a big baby?”
satoru nods before moving to pull off your sleep shorts, “c’mon, i just wanna see”
so of course, that’s what got you into this predicament. you laying down with your head on the pillow while satoru lays on his stomach between your thighs, eyes glistening with mischief as he stares at your panty clad mound. Throughout the past couple of days, toru has made you use a couple toys to help get off, realizing extremely fast how it was becoming his new favorite hobby.
he took in how quick you were to cum, thighs clenching around the toy while you creamed, sticky substance leaving strings on your panties when he became impatient and pulled them off. it was almost addicting. you became so sensitive, eyes welling up when he began to fuck your swollen pussy, “s’too much!”
he just pounded into you harder, mockingly cooing at you. “oh, it’s too much? fine, i’ll stop.” satoru would pull out mid thrust, teasingly rubbing his fat tip against your clenching hole. he would do it until your legs wrapped around his waist to try and push him in, he smiled at the annoyance that came over you, still feisty even when being fucked dumb. “you’re so greedy—can’t ever make up your mind” shaking his head, toru would shove it back in while rubbing your clit making you squeal, an unusual reaction that he was growing accustomed to.
Those toys became his best friends and it was only a matter of time before he wanted to be in control of them. satoru personally loved your wand vibrator, pulling an orgasm out of you quick while also being used in so many different methods and positions. so it wasn’t a shocker that it was that one he picked.
you were comfortable, something he had been checking the whole time. He felt giddy, dick hard just from thinking about it. He made sure to start off slow and ease you into it, putting it on a low setting before teasingly dragging it up and down the crease of your panties, biting his lips after hearing your breath hitch whenever the tiny vibrations passed your aching clit.
“how does that feel, pretty girl?” he kissed your thigh softly, turning up the vibration to hear the gasp as you opened your mouth to speak.
“g-good!”
your words got choked up in your throat, hips bucking as he pushed it down on your bud. meanwhile, satoru watched in fascination as the damp spot on your panties grew bigger and bigger, mouth watering as he gently pressed his nose against it before his tongue lolled out to take a swipe. “satoru!” you gasped, hands moving to tug on his hair and pull it back, a heat climbing up your body in embarrassment.
he smiled sheepishly, turning up the vibrations another level which quickly made your hands loosen as your jaw fell open to let out a moan. “now's not the time to scold, dear~”
he pulls away, shutting off the vibrator while sitting on his knees. you felt a little light headed, eyebrows furrowing, “you're done?”
he shook his head, instead, pulling your panties down and flinging them across the room, fingers moving to play in your wetness before slowly dragging his soaked appendage to your clit to swirl around, “just lay back and relax your pretty little head. i know what i’m doing.”
he picked the vibrator back up, once again on its lowest setting and began using it to dip into your messy hole and spread the juices to the rest of your pussy. he felt like he was painting a pretty picture, eyes zeroing into his muse while his other hand wrapped around your thick thigh to pull it open.
he did this for a while, secretly watching and enjoying the way you were growing frustrated, pussy clamping around nothing as a frown overtook your lips. “toru—enough!”
he smiled, biting back a laugh at the whining. “fine..” you huffed, leaning back on the pillow.
you heard it before you felt it, the vibrations sounding stronger. you sat up, confused before the feeling of pure euphoria washed over you, causing your jaw to loosen and your eyes to cross and roll back. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, the stimulation almost too much, your hands moving to push it away, “too much! please—i can’t!”
but satoru just clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment, “first it’s not enough, now it’s too much… this stupid thing can’t satisfy you, huh?” he pushes your hands away, positioning himself between your legs in a way that made it hard to shut them. “what do you think baby?”
finishing his sentence he began to move it up and down, the feeling making your stomach lurch and shedding some of the tears that gathered in your eyes. it felt too good, borderline brutal against your sensitive pussy.
you couldn’t even acknowledge his question, whimpers and pants filled the room along with mindless babbles of his name. “i’m—s’close! oh fuck—satoru! d-dont sto—p”
your hands claw at the sheets as you begin to tremble, your vision going blurry and the pressure in your stomach is released in pleasurable waves. you didn’t realize you had passed out until you feel a light tapping on your cheek causing your eyes to open slowly. At first, you’re too disoriented to focus. your vision is splotchy and your ears have a small ringing in them.
it takes a couple of seconds for you to register where you are and what just happened, finally taking in your surroundings. the first thing you see once your eyes adjust is satoru staring at you with a shocked grin. “babe..” he leaned down to kiss you, “–that was so hot” his hand reached between you two to pet at your cunt, cooing at the sharp intake of breath you had.
“let’s try again… i’ll leave it on a low setting, i promise” liar
safe to say toys became a frequent tool after that, even going as far as him ordering new ones to “try” including a cock-ring that leaves you both overstimulated, whiny, messes...
the end
Tumblr media
a/n; two releases in one day??? who tf am i?? ik, it’s been soooo long but i didn’t have any inspiration</3 i honestly wanna right more sub!jjk characters so if anyone has any ideas they would like to present to the class PLEASEEE🙏 (especially nanami, cause i loveeee him)
2K notes · View notes
starryhyuck · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
pairing: ex!jaehyun x afab!reader
words: 9.2k+
summary: you left with jaehyun’s son three years ago. an opportunity arises that may push you together for better or for worse.
genre: angst, fluff, smut
warnings: penetrative sex, rough sex, public sex, daddy kink, pussy eating, cum eating, creampies, breeding kink, spanking, possessiveness, some yandere vibes
“Got yourself all dressed for dad?”
Your five-year-old son hums happily, thumbs looped through his backpack straps like he’s afraid it’s going to run away from him. You smile and comb your hands through his hair, slightly frightened by how fast he’s growing.
The knock on the door takes you out of your head before you can dwindle on how your son is slipping away from you. You smile at Jaehyun behind the door, who offers a tight-lipped one in return.
You kneel down once more and tap on your cheek. “Give me a kiss before you leave, sprout.”
Your son giggles before planting a messy kiss on your cheek, wrapping his tiny arms around your neck.
“Bye, mom! I love you!” He practically hops away from you in excitement, running into his dad’s arms with pure joy.
You nod politely at your ex, who wraps his arms around your son and holds him to his chest.
“Hey, little bear. Missed you,” Jaehyun laughs, kissing your son’s forehead.
“I missed you too, dad!”
You clear your throat. “Do you want me to come pick him up on Sunday?”
Jaehyun’s eyes return to you, cold and distant like they have been for the past three years. “I could drop him off, it’s no issue. I canceled all my meetings on Sunday.” You wonder if he’s trying to imply something, as if the time taken off means anything to you.
You brush it off. “Sounds good. Be good to your dad,” you give a final warning to your son, who does nothing but wave his hand in return.
You’re about to close the door until Jaehyun quietly speaks up. “I needed to ask you something.”
You ignore the loud sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You simply nod, urging him to continue. He clears his throat, feeling a bit awkward as your son impatiently waits for his dad to take him to his other house. It’s rare for Jaehyun to linger around like this.
“My parents — they’re having that annual anniversary party again in Seoul. They asked me to invite you.”
You’re surprised, to say the least. You haven’t been invited to an anniversary party since you and Jaehyun separated. His family was extremely heartbroken when you left and as a result, you haven’t communicated with them since. The anniversary party, however, was a huge celebration in the Jeong family. It was a mark of success since Jeong Corporation opened almost twenty years ago, and the company has now founded themselves as one of the largest in Seoul.
“Um,” you stutter, unsure of what to say. You understood what the anniversary party implied — one whole weekend with your former second family and more importantly, Jaehyun.
“Don’t- You don’t have to make a decision now. You can tell me on Sunday if you’re ready.”
You nod reluctantly, and he sends you another tight-lipped smile before departing. You watch as he and your son drive away, leaving a hole in your heart as they go.
“No way. He wants to fuck you again!”
“Johnny!” You scold, feeling extremely embarrassed already. “He is not! He’s just trying to be a good son, you know how he is.”
Johnny laughs sarcastically. “Yeah fucking right. Dude, it’s the Jeong anniversary party. That shit is photographed like crazy. He knows what he’s doing when he’s inviting you to go with him.”
“He’s not inviting me to go with him,” you clarify for him, even though Johnny is throwing you a side eye as you hand him a cup of warm tea. “He’s just inviting me to attend.”
He rolls his eyes. “Please. He’s been waiting for this moment with you for so long. Especially after you left him like that.”
You swing at Johnny’s arm, causing him to clutch it dramatically and hold the end of your kitchen counter as if you just shot him. You glare at him. Even though it was still a sore subject, he found a way to bring it into conversation from time to time since he thought it was the worst decision you had ever made.
It was three years ago when you left Jaehyun, taking your son and finding a new place all to yourselves. Jaehyun was shocked to say the least, heartbroken that the love of his life took his child and ran. It obviously wasn’t your first choice, but you spent too long waiting for him to come home only to be disappointed continuously. Jaehyun was just starting to become a big name within the company, wanting to work up the ladder and prove himself to his father and to the public. As a result, he spent most nights sleeping in his office and growing farther apart from you and your son. You reached a point where you couldn’t handle being abandoned any longer, leaving him and giving him his first wake-up call.
Jaehyun, like everyone else, thought you were only playing a game with him at first. No one believed you would actually separate from each other, especially because you two were so in love. However, you decided you needed to do what was right for your son. You couldn’t handle the lonely nights when your son would ask when his dad was coming home.
The custody agreement was simple, and Jaehyun agreed to whatever terms you laid out for him. You allowed your son to see Jaehyun every other weekend, and Jaehyun made sure to take work off whenever he had him. He was really trying, which you could see, but it wasn’t enough.
You’re not sure if it’ll ever be enough again.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you mumble to Johnny, already mentally rejecting the idea of attending the Jeong anniversary party. “I mean, you know us. Our feelings get carried away all the time.”
Johnny frowns. “Are you saying you still have feelings for him?”
You sigh. Johnny has been your number one support system since you left Jaehyun, and despite his help towards adjusting you to a life as a single mother, he always rooted for the two of you to get back together.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” you say clearly, stirring around the small spoon in your cup. You refuse to look up, knowing he can read you like an open book. “I’m just saying that being together for that long can cause cloudy judgment, you know? Plus, I don’t want anything to become confusing for all parties included.”
He shrugs, knowing you’re mainly talking about your son’s inability to understand why his mom and dad are suddenly spending time together. “I think the little sprout would like to have a weekend with both of his parents. He hasn’t had that since two birthdays ago.”
You recall your son’s third birthday party, which was the first festivity after the split. You awkwardly invited Jaehyun to come since you felt obligated, but it only resulted in tension while cutting the cake and opening presents.
“I know,” you whisper, feeling down. Your son asks you from time to time why his dad doesn’t stay when Jaehyun drops him off after a weekend together, and it always breaks your heart when you have to gently explain that his dad has work to attend to. Seeing the dejected look on your son’s face reminds you why you decided to leave in the first place. “But don’t you think it’s weird? Why would his family even want to see me again? I thought they hated me for leaving Jaehyun.”
“Yeah right,” Johnny laughs. “You saw the headlines after you guys split. Jaehyun started fighting so often with his parents. You know they loved you to death.”
“That might have been true before. I’m still the bitch who stomped all over their son’s heart and took their grandson away.”
“Hey,” Johnny scolds, hating when you speak lowly of yourself. “Anyone with eyes could see he was treating you miserably. It was completely fair for you to have temporary space.”
You ignore the fact that he implies the separation is still temporary.
“I’m just not sure, John. I don’t think it’s a smart idea.”
“Well, I think it’s a great one,” he smiles, brushing off your heated glare. “Listen, you can’t keep ignoring him like he’s the plague. If you don’t want the little sprout to have daddy issues when he’s older, you need to start getting along with Jae better. Just act civil, that’s all anyone’s asking of you.”
You chew on your bottom lip. “Will you come get me if I text you?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Your shoulders eventually slump in defeat, and Johnny throws his arms up in victory.
You’re extremely anxious when Sunday afternoon arrives, which is usually when Jaehyun comes by to bring your son back. You try to shake the nerves out and remind yourself to do what Johnny told you.
Just be civil. You can do that.
You nearly jump out of your socks when Jaehyun finally knocks on the door. You shakily open it, offering him a small smile as your son comes barging through. He attaches himself to your leg, grinning widely as he waves a new coloring book in his hand.
“Look what dad got me!”
“Wow,” you speak incredulously, kneeling down to give him a kiss. “That was very nice of him. Did you say thank you?”
“Yes!” He exclaims with glee. “Can I go color, please?”
You laugh. “Give your father a kiss goodbye first, sprout.”
Your son hurriedly kisses his father’s cheek when Jaehyun leans down, rushing off to his room afterwards.
You chuckle again. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
Jaehyun hums. “Of course. He really wanted it, and I wanted to do something special for him.”
You nod and the conversation settles into unbearable silence. You start gathering the courage to accept Jaehyun’s invitation before you wimp out but he talks before you can get the chance.
“Listen, about what I said on Friday, you can forget about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t want you to feel obligated, I just knew if I didn’t pass along the message, I would get hit on sight.”
You smile, thinking about how dangerous his mother could be when her son disobeys. “No, it’s completely fine. I mean, if it’s still okay with you, I would like to go.”
His eyes light up in surprise, and it’s the first time Jaehyun’s let his guard down with you in a while.
“Really? I didn’t think you’d want to.”
You shrug. “I think it would be nice. I’m sure the little sprout would enjoy a weekend with both of his parents too.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling genuinely. You forgot how much you missed seeing him so happy, dimples peeking out. “I know he would. He was talking about how excited he was today, getting dressed in a little suit and everything.”
Your heart warms at the thought of your son dressed so handsomely. “He would be adorable. Center of the party, I’m sure.”
“Of course. You know my mother never misses a chance to show him off,” he chuckles.
“Well, I look forward to seeing what they’re going to try and pull off this year. I’m assuming your mother is making it as lavish as possible,” you joke, knowing how elated his mother was when the Jeong Corporation finally gained enough funding to throw a large-scale party.
“You know it,” he agrees, eyes sparkling in the way they used to. “I could, um, I could give you more details if you’d like.”
“Oh,” you say, feeling slightly flushed. “Sure, that sounds nice.” You open the door wider for him, stepping back so he can come inside.
It’s the first time you’ve really invited Jaehyun in. He came once for your son’s birthday party and a few other times because your son really wanted to show Jaehyun some toys from his room, but never once fully initiated by you.
“Can I heat up some coffee or tea for you?” You ask politely.
“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” he says, following you to the kitchen.
He takes a seat on one of the kitchen stools — the same spot where Johnny told you that Jaehyun clearly wanted to fuck you again. You clear your throat, tossing the memory aside.
“So, is there a dress code for the party? Do I need to go out and get anything?” You question, starting to brew Jaehyun’s favorite blend. The both of you choose to ignore the fact that you still remember how to make his coffee just the way he likes it.
“They were endorsing a blue and white theme this year, but you don’t have to follow those rules, of course,” he assures you.
You shake your head, turning back to him and smiling. “I will one hundred percent abide by that dress code. You know how picky those businesspeople are.”
He chuckles to himself, fiddling with his fingers nervously. You wonder if he’s just as anxious as you are.
“Right, forgot about that. So I’ll come pick up you and the little bear Friday night?”
You nod. “That would be nice. Thanks, Jaehyun.”
“Of course,” he replies, thanking you when you hand him his coffee. “The party shouldn’t last for more than two to three hours on Saturday, but you know how my father gets with the speeches.”
“He’s just proud, that’s all. It’s not everyday a company you built from the ground turns so successful.”
He nods. “Every company comes with its sacrifices though.”
You swallow at him alluding to your separation. Luckily, you’re saved by your son, who comes running into the kitchen.
“Dad!” He exclaims happily. “You’re still here!”
Jaehyun laughs. “Just having a conversation with your mom, little bear. Did you color something already?”
Your son nods, already eager to showcase his coloring skills. Jaehyun situates him on his lap, listening as your son details the process of what colors he chose and what the monkey is doing exactly in the picture.
You grow fond at the sight, not seeing Jaehyun with your son like this in so long. You never doubted that Jaehyun loved him with his entire heart, you just always wished he made more time for the both of you.
“And who did you color this for, little bear?” Jaehyun asks softly, kissing his son’s temple.
“Mom, of course!” Your son says with certainty, and Jaehyun helps him rip the picture out of the book so he can hand it to you.
“Thank you so much, sprout. I’ll cherish it forever,” you promise, clutching the paper to your chest.
Your son has an affinity for coloring and drawing, and as a result, most of your fridge and walls were covered in his artwork.
“I’ll make one for you too, dad,” your son swears, wiggling out of Jaehyun’s arms until he’s back on the floor. The both of you watch him zoom off, warning him not to run too fast.
Jaehyun smiles. “I should get him those coloring books for adults. I feel like he would love them.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah right. He only enjoys these because they have animals in them. Give him a crazy pattern and he’ll give up coloring forever.”
He laughs before agreeing with you. A part of you missed this — the happy laughter and talks of your son with someone who also wanted the best for him.
“My mother’s set up a private cabin for us for the weekend,” he shares, avoiding your stare. “But I can always have the driver take you and the little bear back here if that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” you say, briefly surprised by the fact that Jaehyun’s mother set all of you together. You would think she wants you as far away from her son as possible.
Jaehyun takes your response badly, face twisting into a grimace. “It’s no problem. I’ll tell Doyoung that you would prefer coming back here instead of staying the weekend.”
“No!” You exclaim, flushing by how loud your voice rose. “I mean, I was just shocked your mother did that for us. I thought she didn’t like me anymore.”
Jaehyun’s eyebrows shot up. “My mother? The same one that wanted to buy us an island when we told her about the pregnancy?”
You chuckle. “That was out of the kindness of her heart, Jaehyun.”
“Please,” he scoffs. He takes the coffee mug you hold out for him. “She loves you more than anything. Nothing between us would change that.”
You smile, ignoring the nerves slowly creeping up every inch of your body.
“Johnny, put that back!”
“Why? It’s sexy!”
You grab one of your throw pillows and chuck it at Johnny’s head. He dodges just in time, rolling his eyes and putting your lingerie back in your drawer.
“I’m just saying, you never know what’s going to happen. You’ll regret it later when you’re trying to fuck Jaehyun and you have nothing but granny panties.”
“I regret asking you to help me pack,” you sigh, trying your best to fit everything you need this weekend for you and your son in a small suitcase.
“I’m going to ignore that comment since I’m willingly giving up my Friday afternoon for you. When was the last time you went shopping?” He asks.
It actually takes you a minute to stop and think about your answer. Ever since your son was born, your wardrobe has mainly consisted of haphazard pajamas. The only time you really went out and purchased clothes is if you were attending one of Jaehyun’s fancy events.
“All of these clothes are way out of season! How have I not noticed this before?” Johnny complains, rifling through your drawers. “We need to go shopping.”
You groan. “It’s too late for that. Jaehyun is picking us up tonight!”
The doorbell rings and you sigh again, massaging your temples in an attempt to make the headache go away. Johnny takes pity on you and answers the front door himself. You hear hushed whispers before he comes back into your bedroom, a smile on his face as he carries a large box in his hands.
Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that?”
“A special delivery from one Mr. Jeong Jaehyun,” Johnny replies, a smirk evident on his lips.
You’re still trying to recover from the shock of Jaehyun sending you anything before you realize Johnny’s ripping open the box. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning and you can’t help but lean over to see it too.
In the box is a beautiful, satin white dress that looks like a red wine lover’s worst nightmare. However, you can barely focus on the color when you can recognize exactly where this dress is from.
“Dude,” Johnny says in a small voice, sounding breathless. “It’s your wedding dress.”
And if this wasn’t your wedding dress — it sure as hell looked a lot like it. You remember the day you picked it out, insisting on going for a modern style instead of a princess ball gown. It was a simple, off-shoulder, stark white dress that you envisioned yourself wearing while walking down the aisle to Jaehyun.
And three years ago, you cried when you donated it to a local thrift store, refusing to continue to store memories of what could’ve been in the back of your closet.
You thought you would never see it again.
“He said the theme was blue and white, right?”
Johnny brings you out of your train of thought. You cough, avoiding his questioning gaze.
“Yeah.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
You narrow your eyes at his suggestive tone. He shrugs.
“I think you’re going to have an interesting trip.”
“Hi, dad!”
“Hi, little bear!”
Your heart melts at the sight of Jaehyun and your son together. Jaehyun’s all smiles while he straps your son into his carseat, dimples peeking out. Once he’s settled, he turns to you as he shuts the car door. You awkwardly step around each other as he helps you with your bags and you slip into the front seat.
The drive to the cabin you’ll be staying at for the weekend is about an hour from your place, which means you have two choices — you could pretend to sleep and avoid speaking to Jaehyun altogether, or you could bite the bullet and make as much small talk as you possibly can.
Jaehyun makes the decision for you.
“So how’s work?”
You muster a smile. “It’s alright. I think I’m going to get promoted soon.”
He laughs. “It’s about time. I’ve never seen anyone else at that company work harder than you.”
You stutter at the compliment. You always forget how charming Jaehyun is, and how easy it is for him to make you feel like a teenager all over again.
You can’t hold back your next question. “Where did you find it? The dress?”
His fingers tighten on the wheel.
“It’s just a dupe I found online.”
But the response sounds too rehearsed. Too practiced. It’s almost like he had been preparing himself for when you would inquire about it.
“Jaehyun,” you whisper, and he knows you can tell that he’s lying.
He sighs, looking through the rearview mirror to check if your son has already drifted off before proceeding. “When you donated it, Doyoung found out and I asked him to buy it back. I know it’s your dream dress, and it’s my fault you never got to wear it. I just wanted you to have a night where you could finally show it off.”
You don’t know why, but you feel tears welling up in your eyes. The idea that Jaehyun kept your dress for you all these years tugged at your heartstrings. If the dress was a reminder to you of your failed relationship, you can’t imagine what he felt when he came across it in his own home every single day.
You turn your head to look out the window so he wouldn’t see your crushed expression.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I did. You deserve at least that, and so much more. For now, unfortunately, this is all I can give you.”
The two of you remain silent for the rest of the trip and you’re relieved when he pulls into the cabin’s driveway. You both fall into a familiar pattern as you get out to grab your son and he heads to the trunk to take out your luggage. You’re careful to unbuckle your son from his carseat in fear of waking him, and you relax when he’s in your arms, still sound asleep.
Jaehyun opens the front door and you marvel at the beauty of the cabin once you’re inside. You’re not surprised in the slightest that Jaehyun’s mother hooked you up with an extremely lavish place for the weekend.
“Upstairs, first door to the right,” Jaehyun whispers, and you realize he’s telling you where your son will be sleeping.
After you’ve tucked him in and made sure he’s out for the night, you tiptoe back downstairs.
Jaehyun looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, fumbling around with the television remote, pacing in front of the entertainment dock.
“So, um, what room will I be in?”
“Oh yeah,” he says uncomfortably, quickly grabbing your luggage. “Let me show you.”
He leads you down a hallway off from the living room, opening one of the many doors and setting your stuff inside.
“Here’s your room. I, um, I’m just across the hall. There’s also another room upstairs if you want to sleep closer to the little bear but it’s a lot smaller and doesn’t have a connecting bathroom so I figured-“
“This is great, Jaehyun. Thank you.”
He clears his throat and nods, quickly shuffling out of the room. He pauses in the entryway as he’s closing the door, something clearly lingering on his mind.
“You don’t have to wear the dress tomorrow, it was inconsiderate of me to assume you would want to. I’ll have Doyoung pick up something different in the morning for you to wear.”
Before you could protest, the door shuts. You sigh and run your hands down your face.
This was going to be a long weekend.
You and Jaehyun barely exchange any words the next day.
As promised, a new, navy blue dress hangs outside your door when you wake up. You fail to confront Jaehyun about it since he spends most of the morning playing with your son at a nearby creek. In all honesty, you want to wear your wedding dress. On the outside, it wasn’t too flashy since you refused to add a train or any embellishments, and it was perfect for a formal event like the anniversary party. On the inside, everything Jaehyun said yesterday was correct — this was your dream dress, and you wanted to just have this one occasion to finally show it off.
You call Johnny before Jaehyun and your son return, and he happily picks up on the second ring.
“Got fucked yet?”
“You’re despicable.”
Johnny’s joyous laughter is grating to your ears.
“It’s so awkward, Johnny. We had this weird conversation about the dress so he had Doyoung get me a new one, but I actually really want to wear my wedding dress. Is that crazy?”
“Nope,” he replies, popping the last syllable for emphasis. “I think you’re just afraid of what wearing the dress means for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
He clicks his tongue, and you can picture him shaking his head at your alleged stupidity. “Think about it. The last time you wore this dress, you were engaged and about to marry the love of your life. Don’t you think wearing it again is going to spark up any old feelings?”
You ponder over the idea for a moment before shaking your head. Johnny was wrong — you just wanted to wear this dress because you liked it. You convince yourself there are no lingering feelings you should be worrying about.
“You’re full of shit.”
“Uh huh. We’ll see about that.”
However, later that night when you slip into the dress, you understand exactly what Johnny was talking about. You used to have vision boards of this dress plastered on your living room walls, picking what flowers and color scheme you wanted to compliment it. You remember Johnny even photoshopping you in this dress next to Jaehyun in his suit, the both of you standing in front of what was supposed to be your dream venue.
The memories come back to you like a tidal wave. Jaehyun planning the perfect dinner for the two of you when you were six months pregnant. Jaehyun proposing to you that night, tears in his eyes as he confessed how much he loved you. Welcoming your son into the world three months later. Trying on the dress again after his birth, worrying your body would look too different. Jaehyun getting the dress re-tailored for you when your insecurities started to affect your daily life. Your son crying night after night while his father stayed late working in his office. Postponing the wedding every year because Jaehyun was too busy. Shoving the dress in the back of your closet because you couldn’t stand to see it any longer. Finally getting the courage to pack up your things and leave, taking the dress with you. Giving it away when you felt like you needed to close this chapter of your life. The chapter where Jaehyun was supposed to be your eternal love.
You don’t even realize you’re crying until the door creaks open.
“Mom, why are you sad?”
You immediately straighten yourself and wipe away your tears, turning to see your son at the door with his head tilted in concern. You laugh when you see his suit is half buttoned.
“I’m not sad, little sprout,” you smile, walking over to him and scooping him in your arms. “I’m so excited for tonight! Look at my handsome boy!”
He giggles when you press kisses to his cheek.
“Mom,” he whines. “Help me!”
You keep your smile on as you help him fix his suit, and you hear the door creak open again when you’re on the last button.
If Jaehyun notices the redness in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it.
“Little bear, why don’t you finish your dinner before we head out? Don’t want you getting hungry.”
Your son obediently follows Jaehyun’s orders once you’re finished buttoning his suit, running to the kitchen to eat his meal.
You walk back to the full length mirror in the corner of the room in an attempt to make yourself look as presentable as possible. You can feel his eyes on you, burning a hole in your back.
“You look beautiful.”
You falter, fingers shakily trying to put your earring on. “Thank you.”
“I thought you wanted to wear a different dress.”
“No, I actually want to wear this one.”
“Oh, okay.” A pause. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Jaehyun. Can you make sure Doyoung has coloring books and crayons in the car? In case the little sprout gets bored.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” he nods, and you lock eyes with him in the mirror.
He doesn’t say anything else but you know he’s worried about you. He purses his lips before closing the door, and you sigh in relief when you hear his footsteps fade away.
“Nice to see you again.”
You grin as you envelope Doyoung in a hug. The last time you saw Jaehyun’s assistant was almost three years ago at the last anniversary party you attended. Doyoung had always been a very loyal right-hand man to Jaehyun, and he used to be one of the constants in your life.
“You look gorgeous,” he compliments, his bunny teeth peeking out.
You thank him and he helps you and your son climb into the car, Jaehyun following after. Doyoung takes the driver’s seat and rolls up the partition so you can have some privacy. You wish he would do the opposite and make small talk with you, especially since you could cut the tension between you and Jaehyun with a knife.
Your son is seated between the two of you and he plays a helpful role in the awkward atmosphere. He starts asking Jaehyun questions about the party and who will be there, which Jaehyun answers patiently as your son bombards him with question after question.
You start fiddling with the fabric of your dress, the satin slipping between your fingers. When you look up, you see Jaehyun’s eyes locked on you, and it makes you wonder how differently this picture would have looked years ago.
This car would’ve been driving to your wedding venue with your son as the ring bearer. You would be leaning over to capture every moment of Jaehyun’s lips before you would have to kiss in front of hundreds of guests, a thought that always rattled you. You would have a bouquet of daisies bunched up in your hand, similar to the ones Jaehyun gave you on your first date. You would be scared of your veil tearing, trying your best to make sure your son didn’t accidentally rip it. All while Jaehyun stares at you like you hold the world in your hands, his fingers interlacing with yours to assure you everything would be okay.
You imagine he’s thinking the same as you if the longing in his eyes is anything to go by. But then the car hits a speed bump, forcing you to break eye contact. He returns to answering your son’s questions and you start playing with your dress again.
When you finally arrive at the Jeong Corporation building, you’re immediately greeted by your former mother-in-law.
She wraps you in her arms as soon as you step out of the car, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say she’s trying to strangle you by the sheer force of her strength.
“My favorite daughter!”
You flush at the greeting, remembering it was her favorite nickname for you. You catch Jaehyun carrying your son from the corner of your eye, his ears blooming red from embarrassment.
“Hi, Mrs. Jeong,” you reply, reciprocating her embrace.
She releases you to step back and take a look at your form. She looks exactly the same as she did three years ago, and you feel her manicured hand stroke your cheek.
“Look at you. Still so beautiful.”
You smile, slowly feeling your nerves dissipate. Maybe Johnny was right — maybe Jaehyun’s family didn’t actually hate you, they just missed you.
Her gaze flickers to her grandson, and she coos at him as she takes him from Jaehyun.
“And here’s my strong tiger! So handsome tonight!”
“Grandma!” Your son exclaims happily, chubby hands wrapping around her neck.
She gestures for you and Jaehyun to follow her inside the building as she begins walking. You share a glance with him before coming to a silent agreement, looping your arm through his in an attempt to show solidarity. You ignore the ache in your feet and the thumping of your heart, keeping your eyes trained on Jaehyun’s mom animatedly speaking to your son. She guides you to the conference room on the main floor, where the party is being held.
She turns to you once you’re at the entrance. “I’m going to take him to meet Yoojin, she’s been begging to meet my grandson. And don’t you two worry, I’ll take him back with us when the party’s over. He needs to spend some quality time with his grandparents! Have a fun night together!”
And before you can protest, she’s disappeared into the crowd, taking your son along for the ride.
Jaehyun curses. “I’m sorry. Let me catch her and let her know we want him to come back to the cabin with us.”
You stop him with a firm tug on his arm. He stares at you in confusion.
“It’s okay, let her take him. She’s right — he hasn’t had quality time with his grandparents for a while.”
He slowly nods and slips his arm back through yours. You both don’t know where to begin for the night now that your conversation helper is gone. The first stop you choose is the open bar while Jaehyun starts his formal thank you parade around the floor. You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
You turn to see Seulgi, who is practically beaming at you.
“I was wondering if it was you!” She giggles and hugs you tightly.
Seulgi worked as head of marketing for Jeong Corporation, and you used to chat with her quite a lot whenever you visited Jaehyun in the office.
“I can’t believe you’re here, I haven’t seen you in forever,” she hums, sitting on the barstool next to you. She tells the bartender her order before focusing back on you. “How have you been?”
“I’m good,” you chuckle, a little floored by her presence. You forgot that attending this party meant you would also be running into all of Jaehyun’s colleagues that you used to be friendly with. “How have you been?”
She huffs. “Swamped with work, but this party is always a nice change of pace. Did you come with Jaehyun?”
You also remember how Seulgi doesn’t beat around the bush.
“Yes, I came with him and our son.”
“Oh, I have to see him before I leave. I bet he’s all grown up now,” she murmurs. “So you’re all back together then?”
“No, no,” you deny, thanking the bartender when your drink arrives. “Jaehyun just invited me as a plus one this year. Or plus two, I guess.”
She hums noncommittally, throwing a mischievous side eye. Actually, in this moment, you realize how much she resembles Johnny.
You feel a hand graze your back. You look up to see Jaehyun, who’s throwing a timid smile in Seulgi’s direction.
“Sorry, can I steal her for a bit?”
Seulgi smirks knowingly. “You can have her for as long as you need, Mr. Jeong.”
His eyes narrow at her before he’s leading you away from the bar, his hand still sitting firmly on your lower back.
“Sorry to interrupt your conversation,” he apologizes in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the proximity. “I need you to be my shield for these terribly boring conversations or I’ll melt into a puddle on the floor.”
You giggle. “So you’re throwing me into the dumpster fire?”
“More like I’m having you join me in the flames.”
The rest of the night eases your nerves more and more, and it gets to the point where you’re falling back into your old harmony with Jaehyun. You’re exchanging raised eyebrows when people aren’t looking, sharing your portion of small talk with the guests who approach you, and whispering in each other’s ears when a funny joke pops up. Jaehyun’s mom even swings by with your son a couple of times, giving you and Jaehyun the opportunity to spend some time with him together. You even manage to skirt around the straining questions if you two are back together, telling people you’re just here as friendly co-parents.
Despite that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like a family again.
By the end of the night, you’re climbing back into the car with Jaehyun while his parents wave you off, holding your son in their arms and assuring they’ll take good care of him.
Once they disappear out of view, you sink back and relax. Jaehyun laughs at you.
“Long night, huh?”
“My feet are killing me,” you complain, undoing the straps of your heels and tossing them aside.
His hand instantly comes to your neck, slowly massaging the tense muscles. You remember how he used to do that after every socially draining event you attended, and you lean into his touch.
“Thank you.”
The car runs into another speed bump and the movement causes you to grip onto Jaehyun’s arm, pushing your body into his. You gasp and he grabs your waist to steady you.
His hand feels like someone took a searing hot iron to your skin, and you grip his palm out of instinct. Your eyes glance over at him and you find he’s already looking at you, his other hand still resting steady against your pulse.
You don’t know who moves first.
The next sequence of events passes in a flurry, lips smashing together sloppily, hands flying around. You moan into his mouth and he unbuckles both of your seatbelts so you can climb onto his lap.
“Jae,” you groan, feeling his hands lift up your dress, sneaking up your thighs.
“I fucking missed you,” he says, sucking at your neck.
“Please, Jae,” you whimper, hands curled on the collar of his suit.
His hand firmly cups your clothed cunt and you whine loudly. You missed this — missed how rough he would get with you, how he would take you in front of anyone and everyone just to prove you were his. It’s why you got pregnant way before you planned to, and how you uncovered his desire to fill you raw.
“So fucking wet. This pussy’s all wet for me, isn’t that right?” He hisses in your ear, his deep voice causing you to soak your panties even more.
“Just for you, only for you,” you promise.
He captures your lips again as he pushes your underwear to the side, thumb circling your clit. You cry, hips starting to move on their own accord.
You admit, it’s been a long time since you were intimate with anyone, and it’s made you quite sensitive as a result.
“Want to feel it, baby,” his tongue traces your lower lip. You can start to feel drool pooling out of the corners of your mouth, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t care. If anything, he loves it when you’re sloppy like this. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers. Can you do that for me?”
It’s almost as if his words trigger something deep inside of you, because as soon as two fingers slip in, you’re already reaching your climax. He lets you ride out your high, hips moving back and forth on his fingers as if he was just a toy for your pleasure.
“God, you’re so fucking hot. Want to breed you so badly, baby.”
You gasp at the thought, pulling him into another searing kiss.
And that’s how Doyoung finds you, straddling Jaehyun’s lap with remnants of your orgasm leaking onto his trousers, lips desperately connected for more.
“Um, we’re back.”
You almost scream and Jaehyun pulls you closer to protect you. In your lustful haze, you failed to realize the car had come to a complete stop and Doyoung had opened the door to help you get out.
You’re incredibly embarrassed but Doyoung used to catch you in way more compromising positions before — one time, he had to uncomfortably barge in on Jaehyun fucking you over his desk because one of his shareholders was about to come in for an important meeting. So the fact that you’re still clothed lessens your shame.
You and Jaehyun waste no time, scrambling out of the car and quickly thanking Doyoung before sprinting into the cabin.
As soon as the door’s closed, Jaehyun’s on his knees, pushing up your dress and dragging your hips until you’re perfectly seated on his face. You hear the rip of your underwear but you don’t even care, fingers flying to grip his hair.
“Pretty girl,” he mumbles, tongue darting out to lick at your folds. His hands grasp your thighs, hard enough to leave bruises. “Ride my face, baby. Like you used to in those stuffy restaurant bathrooms, remember?”
Of course you remember. Every time Jaehyun brought you along to a boring business dinner, you always ended up riding his face in the bathroom just to make the night more interesting.
You channel that feeling you used to get, pushing your cunt on his tongue until you start to feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. You can hear the squelch of your pussy riding Jaehyun’s tongue, and it makes your hips move even faster to chase your release.
“S-So fucking g-good, Daddy,” you whine, your climax building in your stomach. “Gonna cum for you.”
You feel him push away in favor of sucking on your clit, three fingers prodding at your entrance. You cry at the intrusion.
“Too much, Daddy!”
“Gotta get you prepped, baby. You remember how hard it is for you to take my cock?”
You couldn’t forget. Jaehyun had to have the perfect body, almost like he was sculpted by the gods. This meant that he was extremely well endowed and most nights, it usually took a lot of prep for him to even fit halfway into your pussy.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss when his fingers curl. “Gonna cum, gonna cum.”
You have never felt more grateful to Jaehyun’s mom until that moment, because the sound of your loud moans would normally be leading towards a noise complaint from the neighbors, but since the cabin was the only house for miles, you could be as loud as you want.
Jaehyun coaxes you through your high, abusing your clit until you beg him to stop, pushing him away from the overstimulation.
When he rises up on his feet, it’s like you two are teenagers again. He’s scrambling to take off your dress without damaging it and you’re clumsily pulling at his belt buckle until it gives. Once your dress has fallen to the ground, he throws his suit jacket somewhere and steps out of his slacks.
“No bra?” He groans, mouth immediately latching onto your nipple.
“Doesn’t- fuck, I can’t wear it with the dress. The straps will show.”
He picks you up like a ragdoll, and you find yourself being thrown over the coffee table, breaking at least three mugs along the way.
“Jae, be careful,” you try to scold him.
He doesn’t give a single fuck, taking his cock out and giving himself a few strokes.
“Raw, baby?”
You whimper, spreading your thighs apart in anticipation. “Yes, please, Daddy!”
The stretch of taking him is not unfamiliar, but it definitely fucking hurts.
“Fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders.
“Have you fucked anyone else? Let anyone else inside what belongs to me?” He asks you, his gaze growing more intense.
There’s that possessiveness you remember. You recall every time anyone would try to flirt with you, Jaehyun would drag you home and fuck you until you cried just to show no one else could make you feel like he does. There was even one instance where he fingered you in front of some poor guy at a club, forcing him to watch as you screamed Jaehyun’s name.
“Just one guy,” you hastily confess. “Johnny set us up but he wasn’t good. He wasn’t anything like you, Daddy.”
He nearly growls at the mention of another man being intimate with you, hands pushing your thighs closer to your chest so he can sink deeper into you.
“I’ll kill him,” he whispers harshly down at you. You open your mouth and he’s fast to spit into it, watching you swallow. “I’ll fucking kill anyone who touches what’s mine.”
You groan, pulling him down so you can kiss him. He starts to thrust into you and it’s like you can feel yourself being split in half.
“Don’t act so innocent,” you breathe into his lips. “I’m sure you did the same.”
“Haven’t fucked anyone since you left,” he admits, bottoming out. You mewl and bring him closer. “I watch those movies we used to make and cum into my hand, wishing it was yours. Isn’t that pathetic?”
Early in your relationship, you and Jaehyun used to make a collection of home movies for your eyes only. It ranged from fucking in your old childhood bed to getting railed on a balcony in Paris. It used to be something for you two to look at when you missed each other, but you haven’t seen one in years. Knowing that he still gets off to them makes you even more wet.
“Fuck, you just got so tight, baby,” he groans. “You like knowing that I can only cum to the thought of you? That I picture filling you up every night, imagining you begging for my cock? Does that turn you on, baby?”
You curse loudly, body feeling like it’s on fire. His fingers trail down to pinch your clit and that sends you over the edge, crying and whimpering as you reach your third orgasm of the night.
Your limbs feel like jelly, but you know Jaehyun’s not even halfway done. He made you orgasm six times in one night before, and ever since then, he’s been trying to beat his record.
You feel him lift you up, still attached to his cock.
“I-I can’t, Jae,” you plead, but you know it’s no use anyways.
He places you down in front of the hallway mirror, where a long table stands beneath it, filled with small trinkets and ornaments. He’s quick to push them off, and you wince when you hear glass breaking.
“Jae-“
“Don’t give a fuck, baby. I’ll replace it later. Hands on the table, eyes on the mirror.”
He turns you around so your ass is facing him, and you whine when he gives it a hard slap. You obey his instructions, placing your palms on the wood and focusing on his predatory look in the mirror.
As he pushes back into you, his hand snakes around your middle, pulling you back onto his cock.
“Tell me,” he taunts in your ear. “Tell me how much you missed me.”
“S-So much,” you sniffle. “I fuck myself with that toy you bought me and I pretend it’s you.”
“Yeah?” He snickers, offering another slap to your ass. “What else?”
“I miss you all the time. Miss how I could go to your office and ride you before your next meeting. Miss sucking your cock dry before you left for work. Miss you filling me up until it was dripping out of my pussy.”
He groans, pressing his face into your shoulder and biting down.
“Tell me,” you whisper, starting to feel vulnerable. “Tell me how much you missed me.”
“You know how much I missed you, baby,” he replies, eyes locked on yours through the mirror. “You know and you never need to ask.”
And there’s no other words that need to be said, because you understand exactly what he means. You almost begin to cry at the thought of him coming home to an empty house, searching through every room for you and your son and finding nothing but empty drawers and naked bed sheets.
“Don’t be sad, baby,” he murmurs, gently thrusting into you. “You know I deserved it.”
“I missed you,” you choke out. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.”
He tilts the side of your face and pulls you into a kiss, railing you deeper and deeper until your toes scrape the floor.
“Please cum in me, Jae. Please, I need it,” you beg.
“Are you back on birth control, baby?”
You shake your head. “No, but it’s okay. Cum in me raw, it’s okay.”
“Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I do, and I want it,” you whisper to him, interlacing your fingers. “It’s okay, Jae. Fill up my pussy, baby.”
He curses loudly before releasing inside of you, filling you until his cum starts to drip down your thighs.
He’s quick to drop back down to his knees, pulling you to his mouth again so he can send you to another orgasm. You tell him you don’t need another one but he doesn’t listen, fervently eating his cum out of your pussy like it’s his last meal.
You reach your high just like that, with his tongue deep inside you and your hands still gripping the hallway table.
When you come down, he lifts you bridal style and carries you to your bathroom.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”
You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and a large heater pressed against your back. Except the large heater is actually your ex-fiancé, who’s snoring loudly in your ear.
You smile fondly, thinking about the previous night. You reach to check your phone on the nightstand, and roll your eyes at your unread text messages.
[johnnyjsuh]: so what happened? did he fuck you?
[johnnyjsuh]: oh he FOR SURE fucked you, you’re not even reading my texts rn
[johnnyjsuh]: just confirmed with doyoung
[johnnyjsuh]: have fun whore
You feel Jaehyun stir behind you and you place your phone down. He kisses your temple.
“Mm, good morning, baby. Breakfast in bed?”
You smile at the thought and nod, watching him get up and pull on his boxers. However, there’s a lingering voice in the back of your head and you wish you could stop it before it grows, but it’s impossible.
“Jae?” You question before he’s out the door, and he pauses to look at you. “Why did you never get mad?”
He blinks a few times, processing your question. He walks over and sits at the edge of the bed, and you sit up to look at him properly.
“Why would I get mad? You were doing what was best for you and the little bear.”
“But I never told you. I just-“ you place your head in your hands, guilt washing over you. “I just left you.”
You feel him taking your hands away from your face and he tilts your chin up so he can look at you.
“It was a bad situation, and I caused it. You were right — I never came home, I was overworking myself to prove something to the public, and I lost everything because of it. I needed that wake-up call from you. And I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve begged you to come back, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I convinced myself that you were better off without me, and that the little bear deserved a father who was always present. It’s all my fault and I never want to see you blame yourself for my wrongs.”
You frown, taking your hands in his and staring into his eyes.
“Do you really believe that? That all of the blame should’ve fallen on you?”
He nods meekly, suddenly too embarrassed to meet your stare, looking down at the sheets.
“Jae,” you sigh. “You know our relationship held equal weight on both sides. Did I wish you were more present for us? Of course. But it’s also my fault for never communicating to you how frustrated I was. I just didn’t know how, and it resulted in me running away from the problem instead of working through it. I think about that day all the time — what would’ve happened if I just waited for you to come home? What would’ve happened if I told you how I was feeling? It was too difficult for me to process and as much as I was confident in my decision, a part of me wishes I would’ve stayed and talked through it.”
“But you should’ve never been in that position in the first place,” he replies, looking more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him. “I knew I was working way too hard for something that might not even be achievable. I was so desperate to be accepted that I forgot about my family. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
Your eyes well with tears and you wonder how long he’s carried this guilt with him. You lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you,” you whisper, hands still desperately clutching his. “If you promise me that this time will be different, I want us to be together again. To try and be a family again.”
His eyes sparkle with hope and he kisses you again.
“I promise. I promise I’m here for our family. I’m going to be a better partner and a better father. Thank you.”
“And?” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs, nuzzling his head into your neck playfully.
“And I love you. More than anything in this world.”
His lips chase you until your head hits the pillow. You whine when his hand roughly clutches your waist.
“We-“ he starts to say, kissing down your neck. “We have to go pick up the little bear.”
“In a minute,” you respond, wanting to savor this moment with him. “Let me suck you off first.”
He groans. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that, baby. If we’re on limited time, you know I’m making sure I get you pregnant before you walk out that door.”
You moan. “I’m pretty sure you already did that last night.”
“You never know until a couple of tries later, right?”
He moves to drop his boxers but then he suddenly remembers something, looking bashful as he glances down at you.
“What? What is it?”
“I was a little too rough last night and well, I think your dress got the receiving end of most of it.”
“Jaehyun!”
“I’m sorry, I tried my best not to damage it!”
You roll your eyes and turn over, pushing yourself on your hands and knees.
“Put a baby in me and I’ll forgive you.”
“I fucking love you.”
5K notes · View notes
sceletaflores · 6 months ago
Note
Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.
Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔
Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!
Tumblr media
Baby, show me where it hurts...
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader
summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up
— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.
word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)
author's note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.
Tumblr media
You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.
That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.
It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.
"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"
"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."
The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.
Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.
That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.
Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.
"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.
"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"
"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.
"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.
"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."
You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.
"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.
You do.
"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."
"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.
You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.
"What the fuck."
SIX DAYS LATER...
The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.
You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.
You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.
You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?
Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.
The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.
You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.
Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.
Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.
Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.
"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”
The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.
You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you. 
“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.
She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.
“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”
You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone. 
“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.
You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.
“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.
You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you. 
The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.
The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.
You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you. 
Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.
“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.” 
Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.
The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. 
“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”
“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey. 
You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.
Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.
“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.
Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.
You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.
“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.
Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."
You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.
Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands. 
You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.
Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."
Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.
As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.
“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure,  "Just try to relax.” 
With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.
"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter. 
You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”
Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”
You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.
“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.
“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”
Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything. 
You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.
“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.
“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.
Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.
You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."
You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.
"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.
"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings." 
As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.
The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done. 
“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.
Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”
You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.
“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up. 
“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.
"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.
He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.
Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.
You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.
Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.
He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you. 
Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.
“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.
It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back. 
“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house. 
Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things. 
The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.
As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. 
“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”
You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”
Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.” 
No question marks. Motherfucker.
You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”
Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”
You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”
Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.
You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.
"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."
Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.
“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”
"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."
Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."
With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.
A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…
Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience. 
Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to. 
That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.
His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing. 
The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold. 
Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment.
The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want you.
“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.
You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.
Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”
It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”
Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.
The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.
You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.
“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”
You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.
You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk out that door right now and never step foot in their house again. 
Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything. 
His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.
It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.
Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now. 
Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him. 
Who are you to deny him?
Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over. 
Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.
You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.
“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly. 
You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue. 
“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.
You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.
It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.
The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.
Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.
Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.
“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?
You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.
Without breaking eye contact, you speak.
“You’re so good, Art.” 
It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest. 
"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still  squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.
A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…
Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.
Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist. 
You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.
Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.
Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from. 
You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.
Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.
As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.
Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”
You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.
As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,”  he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”
You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.
 "I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room. 
You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.
You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.
Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.
“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying. 
“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”
You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.
You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.
Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.
“I need you.”
His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.
Fuck.
A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…
The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it. 
The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.
When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you. 
Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you. 
You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.
The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself. 
Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.
UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you.  Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.
Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.
Art okay.
You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets. 
As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.
Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.
"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"
He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.
You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 
Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.
Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer. 
“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”
You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”
The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.
Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.
“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”
The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him. 
His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”
With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.
You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.
“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.
You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.
“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.
Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit. 
“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter. 
Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.
A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.
“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.
Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining. 
“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”
Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”
“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.
Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.
“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.
“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.
It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.
Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.
Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.
“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”
You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.
“I love you, Art” You whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.
Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.
“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.
Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips. 
Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.
Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”
“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.
When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.
You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.
You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.
The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.
Art loves you.
Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.
“He smiles more.”
The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan. 
Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.
You don't need to ask her who "he" is.
You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.
"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.
Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.
You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.
You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.
She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.
When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.
Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.
You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.
If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.
Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.
“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”
You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.
“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”
Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks. 
This was never about the goddamn massages.
For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.
"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."
Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.
There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…
These people are so fucking weird.
1K notes · View notes
narcjsistx · 2 months ago
Text
𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 | reo, isagi, kaiser (part one)
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!
Tumblr media
— reo mikage
✶ don't even remotely expect to lift a finger in his presence. the princess treatment in his relationships is MANDATORY, he simply loves to do the things that the people he loves want. it would be something like "I know you can do it, but I'm your boyfriend, so let me do it for you"
✶ I think one of the things he loves most about his partners is when they are dressed in shades of purple or maaaybe white, in clothes given by him. do you want to bring him to his knees? do as I tell you, trust me!
✶ kind of guy who would post you everywhere, like: his ig profile feed is made up of 80% of posts with you or dedicated to you, the remaining 20% ​​are photos relating to soccer. he loves to show you off, and above all he does all those trends (even the cringe ones) like posting your girlfriend with a certain song on a certain day
what would he post on socials ↓
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
✶ his concept of family is quite normal, sooner or later he would like to have a family, actually, the idea of ​​getting married has never displeased him. as a child, being the only heir of the Mikage, he had to bear all the expectations alone... therefore, his idea would be to at least have two children, not that he wants to share the expectations between them! simply as a child he suffered a lot from being the only child
✶ jealosy level: 4/10 (he's not the jealous type! he might only be more so in cases where he sees someone trying with you EXTREMELY too hard)
✶ flirtiness level: 6/10
✶ pet names: "babe" / "precious"
—————————————
— isagi yoichi
✶ even though on the field he seems to have bipolar disorder, isagi is literally one of the most possibily boyfriend in the entire verse in my opinion. he's just a chill guy who takes soccer a little too seriously, but hey, you love him for that reason right? yeah, absolutely yes
✶ he's someone who would be embarrassed by a kiss even after years and years of being in a relationship. at the beginning of your story, he had to take a lot of his courage just to ask you if he could hold your hand, but over time he got used to it. with kisses, well... he still gets embarrassed, even though he's often the one who initiates them. he's just a sweet coward in this things
✶ he is someone who, in my mind, cares a lot about gifts related to the phases of the relationship, such as those for the first month together, the six months and so on. not huge gifts, he keeps those more for more important dates, but gifts like letters, stuffed animals or bracelets found at random moments of the day and which immediately reminded him of you for some reason that only he knows
what would he post on socials ↓
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
✶ his concept of family is actually based a lot on what he had. he doesn't exactly have a preference on the number of children, one or five would be fine, he just knows that he will love them no matter what. getting married has never been a thought he's actually spent 5 minutes thinking about every now and then, but now with you he's pretty sure that asking you to spend your life with him is a great excuse to see you in the white dress
✶ jealosy level: 2/10
✶ flirtiness level: 3/10 (more in private, but absolutely not in public, he just can't do it)
✶ pet names: "cutie" / "y/n chan"
—————————————
— micheal kaiser
✶ your relationship is certainly interesting, maybe not one of the healthiest, but you can't say you don't care for each other. Kaiser definitely has some problems related to trusting or in any case "letting himself be discovered" by other people, but surely you are the closest person to him at the moment, hell, you are literally the emperor's girlfriend!. micheal knows very well that he is not a simple person and just the fact that you continue to not let him go, and he wouldn't blame you, means a lot. will he ever admit it? no, obviously not, because he also has a problem, or perhaps more than one, with expressing himself
✶ Ness, one way or another, will have to worship you too. Ness probably just wants to strangle you because you stole the little attention Kaiser gave him, but if Kaiser says he has to worship you like he would him, Ness will do it without a word. Kaiser doesn't even minimally accept someone saying anything remotely comparable to an insult to you, let's say his love language is to protect your respect. he wouldn't mind throwing a punch at someone who even called you "stupid", it's something he can't stand
✶ even if you are not cheering for him at the stadium when he plays, which is quite strange because you are there all the time, you already know beforehand that if he scores a goal, it will obviously be dedicated to you. it's something he always found beautiful when he was little, when he saw videos on public screens in Berlin: seeing then-famous footballers dedicate goals to their girlfriends seemed so exciting. he's the emperor now, right? he must repay his empress somehow for always being so good to him
what would he post on socials ↓
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
✶ well, we all know that Micheal didn't grow up with any concept of family, or rather, he never actually had one. having children actually scares him, and the same thing happens even if he just thinks about getting married. he is simply afraid, and indeed he is sure, that sooner or later everything would turn into what he experienced in Germany with his father. it would take a LOT of reassurance, and maybe therapy, to eventually have children and get married. he actually wouldn't be a bad father, because he knows what it's like to live in a toxic house with someone who doesn't really love you, and he doesn't want his heir to go through the same thing he went through when was a kid. Kaiser is not like his father, and never will be, and just the thought of being like this with his kids makes him vomit
✶ jealosy level: 8/10
✶ flirtiness level: 9/10
✶ pet names: "schatz" / "mein liebling" / "doll"
568 notes · View notes
emocheol · 7 months ago
Text
first kiss with seventeen
Tumblr media
seungcheol
gets all nervous
has been planning this for weeks
wants it to be so good so bad that he ends up colliding his forehead with yours when he’s going in
gets all red from embarrassment and makes you swear to never tell anyone about it (so of course you tell everyone)
“please tell me that wasn’t the worst first kiss you’ve had”
“well if that’s what you want to hear…”
jeonghan
makes you make the first move
can tell that you’ve been wanting to kiss him since you’re always looking at his lips, just wants to make you work for it
will spend the entire day teasing you by getting close and then pulling away
you have to grab his face and hold him there to finally kiss him
he won’t ever let you live down the fact that technically you made the first move
“you’re obsessed with me, huh?”
“you’ve been teasing me all day!”
“doesn’t change the fact”
joshua
extremely confident
just makes out with you when he feels the timing is right
can’t get enough and will not stop kissing you
becomes a norm in your relationship for him to kiss you every second he gets
“why are you always kissing me?”
“why? can’t i show my partner how much i love them?”
jun
shy shy shy
makes a whole romantic date and at the end he asks if it’s okay to kiss you
is soooo nervous that you’re going to say no, but of course you say yes
swears that fireworks explode when your lips touch
he is so whipped for you
“i think im in love with you”
“what was that?”
“uhhh i think we need more glue!”
soonyoung
gives it no thought
just spontaneously kisses you when he gets extra happy one day
“babe! look our song is number 1!” and presses a bunch of kisses on your lips
all he remembers is how nice it feels to kiss you
continues to kiss you whenever he feels like it and loves it twice as much whenever you initiate it
“soonyoung! you just kissed me!”
“yeah! did you not like it? :(”
“no it’s okay, do it again”
wonwoo
quite simple about it
will pucker his lips at you and wait for you to kiss him
won’t get embarrassed over it either
he’s in love with you! he’s not scared to show his affection
“wonwoo what are you doing?”
“waiting for you to kiss me, angel”
jihoon
heat of the moment kiss
everything feels so right
feels like he’d be doing you a disservice if he didn’t kiss you
is the most gentle man on the planet and holds your face in his hands
will let you take control of the kiss, just this one time
you’ll be grinning like an idiot
“what was that for?”
“just felt right”
minghao
encourages you to kiss him first
you just got promoted at your job and you’re over the moon about it, so you’re celebrating with minghao
“you can kiss me if you want” he’ll say as if it’s the most casual sentence ever
you get all shy and press a sweet kiss to his lips
he’ll take the lead
“don’t be shy, sweetheart”
“you’re just too handsome :(”
mingyu
he’ll be sick and sulking because he wants to go on your planned date but he can’t get out of bed
profusely apologizes but you won’t accept them because it’s not his fault!
when he won’t stop rambling you’ll lean down and kiss him to shut up him
when you pull away he has a dopey smile on his face
“do that again!”
“i can’t risk getting sick…”
“i’ll nurse you back to health”
pulls you down to him, and pecks your lips a bunch of times
seokmin
#1 gentleman
wine and dine
“i totally understand if you’re not ready but, can i kiss you?” SWOON
makes you feel like the most special person on the planet
will still ask you if he can kiss you multiple times after that
“can i kiss you?”
“seokmin we’ve been together for a year”
“doesn’t hurt to ask!”
seungkwan
smooth so so smooth
you’ll be playing a game and the prize is the winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want
seungkwan wins (of course)
pretends to think about what he wants even though he knows
“kiss me”
“what?!”
“i won so i want you to kiss me”
cue you being a blushing mess and giving seungkwan a light kiss
vernon
gets home from work one day and kisses you when he walks through the door
you’re shocked and he’s acting like it’s an every day occurrence
doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it
(he’s secretly been wanting to kiss you for weeks)
“what was that for?”
“just missed you, baby”
this becomes a regular occurrence when he gets home from work now
chan
nervous as hell
wants to be smooth and he is!
until he’s not
accidentally bites your tongue (a/n: i have had a man bite my tongue before and it hurt for a week)
profusely apologies but he’s such a cutie, how can you be mad?
“i’m so sorry, do you want me to get ice?”
“no, chan, just kiss me again”
does it right this time
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
alastor-simp · 1 month ago
Text
Never Been Kissed💋 - Alastor x Female Reader
Tumblr media
❥Summary: It gets revealed to everyone that you have never been kissed before ever, in your previous life and afterlife, and a certain deer demon takes interest in that
❥Tags: Alastor x Female Reader, Alastor x Reader, Never Been Kissed, First Kiss, Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction, Angel Is Your Bestie, Hint of Spice, Kissing, Al Becomes A Kissing Maniac
❥Notes: I love First Kiss stories so I wanted to do one with Alastor. Enjoy:) (Fanart credit to unakura on Twitter)
"That guy is smoking hot!! Denise is def gonna choose him." Angel said, as he was leaning against the pillow, face a bit flushed from the guys hotness. "Nah, he's too much of a tool. Besides Ray is a much better choice and he's much hotter." You argued back against Angel's comment. The both of you were watching a hell's version of a dating show, set in the Lust Ring of Hell. It was similar to the shows on Earth, just with demons and more sluttier plot. Everyone else was doing their own thing, Charlie and Vaggie were deciding what the next redemption lesson was, Sir Pentious and Niffty were baking in the kitchen, Husk was cleaning the bar glasses, and Alastor was sitting across from the both of you, reading his daily newspaper, chair facing a bit away from the TV due to his dislike of it.
The show continued on, the two pairs becoming a couple, which eventually lead to a hot make out session. Flustered, you turned your head away, raising your hand above your eyes to cover the scene in front of you. Angel took quick notice of your reaction, bolting out in laughter. "HAHA what's the matter with ya? Can't handle a little kissy kiss scene?" You shook your head no at his question, causing him to laugh more. "Seriously toots, you act like you never kissed before." Angel continued to laugh, his feet kicking up in the air. Lowering your hand, your face flushed red, super embarrassed. "I haven't." Unbeknownst to you, Alastors ears flicked a bit at what you said, eyes leaving the paper to gaze at you. Angel couldn't fully make out what you said because of his laughter, but he soon stopped, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What you say toots? I didn't catch that." Angel asked, inching closer towards you. Fingers twirling your hair, you slowly responded back to Angel, "I have never been kissed."
"WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?" Angels loud response, alerted the residents around him, half of them running into the lobby to see what was going on. Angel hands had grabbed your shoulders, shaking you like a maniac. "YOU'RE TELLING ME IN THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN ALIVE AND IN HELL, NO HANDSOME SCHMUCK HAS EVER KISSED YOU BEFORE?!" Angel had fully stopped shaking you, which you were thankful for since you started to feel a bit sick. "No." The others had walked closer to where you were on the couch, except Al as he was still sitting on the chair, but his newspaper was closed, watching the scene in front of him with curious eyes. "OH MY SATAN!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Angel's body began to lean against the couch, hands covering his eyes in disbelief.
Vaggie had slowly made her away over, a bit annoyed at Angel's reaction. "Hey, there's no need to get so work about a stupid kiss. Plenty of people have never been kissed before." Angel removed his hands from his face, glaring a bit at Vaggie. "That's not why I'm shocked. I'm shocked that someone hasn't taken one look at my best friend and thought "I wanna smooch them." Feels like a crime." Niffty, being her quick self, had run up on the couch, hands placed on your cheeks, crazed eye starring at you. "How come you never gotten kissed before? Saving yourself for the ultimate bad boy? It felt like a million eyes were watching you right now, making you extremely shy - your body wanting to escape from this awkward situation. "Look I- I don't um...."
Sensing your discomfort, Charlie had walked over, grabbing Niffty softly, setting her down on the floor. "Okayyyyyy lets change the subject alright. I have a brand new idea for all of us to try, now if you will all follow me." You were grateful to Charlie that she was trying to stir the whole topic to something else. Angel appeared apologetic, patting your head, mouthing an apology, before he got up, walking over to join Charlie and the others. You, however, weren't in the mood to join them, deciding it be better to just go to your room. As you got up and walked away, you didn't notice the crimson glowing eyes watching you, as you began to head up to your room.
***Your Bedroom***
Heaving a sigh, you carried yourself over to the bed, flopping on to it, face hitting the soft pillow. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself, wanting to hide from the world. The whole lobby situation was still playing in your mind, making you groan. Hand reaching for your other pillow, you placed it against you, hugging it tightly. You decided it be better to just sleep off what just happened, placing your face further into the pillow you were hugging, closing your eyes. A soft tapping sensation was hitting your head, but you chose to ignore it. The sensation continued, which caused you to open your eyes. Moving the cover, your eyes peaked out to see Alastor, sitting on your bed, smiling down at you. "Ahh, she finally reveals herself! Hello, my dear!" He said with astounding enthusiasm, making you groan more. "Leave me alone Alastor please." The cover returned to your head, blocking your face from Alastor again. "Now now, don't hide yourself away from me. I merely wanted to spark up a conversation with you." His clawed hand gripped at your cover, pulling it away from you, revealing yourself to him again.
Debating whether to grab the sheet again, you chose not to, unless you wanted to anger him. Slowly getting up, you looked at Al, wearing an annoyed expression. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Widening his smile, Alastor leaned on his side on the bed, hand placed against his cheek, "From what the effeminate spider yelled out in the lobby, you have never been kissed before, correct?" Your eyes widen at him. Seriously? He was bringing this up again?! Heaving a sigh, you nodded your head, cheeks becoming aflamed. The embarrassment radiating off of you, brought massive satisfaction to him, his smile stretching to the point it could break his face. "I don't indulge in topics of conversation like this, but this one had peaked my curiosity. So enlighten me, my dear, why haven't you kissed anyone?"
"He's messing with me", was your first thought when he asked you this, but reading his expression more closely, you realized he was being serious with his question. Turning away, hands fiddling together, you tried to answer him, "I don't have a clear answer for that. I guess what Niffty said is kinda true. Waiting for the right person...I guess." Silence filled the air after you gave your answer, only thing you could hear was the soft sounds of static from Al. "You were expecting the classic fairytale, finding your one true love kiss, I presume? His tone mocked you, making you a bit angry that he was finding amusement in this. "Yeah that's exactly it, now that I have answered your question, can you please leave me alone?" Grabbing the cover that Alastor had pulled away from you, covering your body and face, you fell on your side to the bed, facing away from him.
Static chuckling came from next to you, as you stayed under the covers, refusing to come out. "If it's something you desire, I will be willing to grant it." He spoke so calmly like he didn't just say the most shocking thing ever. Popping your head out of the cover, you craned your neck towards him, giving him an "Are you serious" look. "Yeah right. You're just joking with me." Laughing at what he said, you turned away, resuming to stay inside your blanket. A rush of wind could be heard next to you, and before you knew it, Alastor was inside the cover with you, body hovering above you, hands placed on the sides of the bed "Who's joking?" He spoke, no hint of static in his voice, as his crimson eyes gazed down at you, lips in a smirk. Jumping at his position being on top of you, your mouth became unable to form words. Was he serious? He wanted to kiss you? "Is it okay if I ask why?" You spoke softly at him, waiting to hear what he had to say.
Alastor appeared a bit put off by your question, for he himself, was a bit befuddled as to why he wanted to kiss you. His eyes gazed up, thinking hard about it. "I've roamed hell for many years, having no interest in acts of affection or romance. Many suitors often came my way, but I broke their hearts, or ate them HAHAHAHA!" His eyes flashed into dials for a second as his head went back from his uproar of laughter. Eyes continued to stare at him as he slowly calmed down from his laughing fit, face taking on a more serious tone, despite the smile still remaining on his face, “However! There were times I wondered what it would be like to take part in acts like this." The radio filter left his voice, as gloved fingers gripped your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip, softly.
Your face was probably was red as his hair right now, as your brain was still trying to process what he was saying. Your eyes continued to stare up at Al, who continued to smile, eyes filled with softness, for once. "Is...are you comfortable doing this?" You quietly asked, palms feeling sweaty from how nervous you were. His head tilted with a crack, once again, confused by your question. "I'm worried that doing this is overstepping your boundaries. What if I am a bad kisser or have bad breath, what if I-" A boisterous laugh erupted from Al, shaking the bed, as the both of you were still covered in the tent-like blanket. "My sweet darling, there is no need to worry about trivial things like that. As for my boundaries, I am the one that is initiating this, so once again, no need to worry."
His wide smile had dropped into a gentle one, fingers still caressing your lip, before moving to your cheek. You bit your lips a bit, before opening them slowly, "Okay." Ears twitched at your answer, crimson eyes filled with a hint of desire plus hesitance, as he bent down a bit, face coming closer to yours. The beating of your heart was so loud, you could hear it in your ears, and you were certain Al could hear it too. The scent of his cologne was making you dizzy- mixed with hints of blood and graveyard dirt. Reflections were seen in both of your eyes, him seeing himself and you seeing yourself. His lips continued to move closer, inch by inch, until they were placed onto yours, soft almost like a butterfly had landed on it.
The glow from his eyes had vanished, closing them as he pushed a bit further into the kiss, making you gasp a bit. A few minutes has passed, as Alastor slowly pulled away, glowing eyes returning to admire you. You felt breathless, despite how tender the kiss was, it had you weak. “Did you enjoy it?” He asked, his lips distracting you, making you forget his question. “Huh? Um..yes…it…was…nice. How about you?” You ask as if out of breath, heart fluttering still. “Surprisingly pleasing.” He said matter-of-factly, but judging from his appearance, he looked more disheveled than you.
No one uttered a word after that, the both of you continuing to stare at each other. “May I do it again?” He whispered, causing goosebumps to form all over you. You nodded, answering his question. His lips returned again, this time with more passion. The gasp you let out allowed his tongue to enter, intensifying the kiss. The weight of his body was on you now, his chest against yours, feeling his racing heart. His teeth bit your lip slightly, drawing some blood, making him hum at the taste as his tongue continued to intertwine with yours. Moaning into the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his back, pulling him closer. The both of you broke the kiss, string of saliva appearing from both of your mouths. Heavy breaths could be heard, as glazed eyes stared down at you, ashen cheeks flushed. "Again." was said from him, lips returning back to you again, and again and again.
-END-
Sinners:
@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic
@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,
@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,
@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,
@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,
@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao
, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,
@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,
@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,
@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,
@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,
@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,
@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,
@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,
@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,
@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,
@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,
@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,
@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco
@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,
, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie
@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,
@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina
@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,
@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,
@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand
, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee
510 notes · View notes
neo127 · 2 months ago
Text
spidey senses ! | sim jaeyun x gn!reader
Tumblr media
synopsis. jake is a bit overwhelmed with his new spider powers…luckily he has an amazing s/o to help him though it genre. spider-man jake!! + established relationship cw. none!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
jake wasn’t sure if he could keep going like this. his head had been pounding all morning and all of his five senses were out of control. he had already come to terms with the fact that he gained spider like powers from getting bitten by a lab made spider, but getting used to them was completely different.
jake could hear his rapid heartbeat in his ears, the person loudly smacking on gum behind him, a dog barking outside, a fly that couldn’t seem to leave the kid two seats behind him alone. jake was extremely overwhelmed, and he had no idea how to calm down.
you noticed how tense your boyfriend looked all throughout class and followed him when he darted out of the room as soon as the bell rang. you called out after him, following jake when he didn’t stop.
he quickly went out the nearest exit, hoping that getting some fresh air would help. it only made things worse and jake began to cry out of frustration. he could hear ambulances blocks away and about five conversations at the same time. every time a car honked he flinched— he simply couldn’t take it anymore.
“jake, what’s happening?” you asked once you finally caught up to him. the boy was on his knees in the empty school courtyard. covering his ears with his arms as he breathed heavily.
“make it stop, i need it to stop.” he whined out. you dropped to your knees beside him, incredibly concerned. jake had never told you about his new found powers, wanting to figure everything out first. he hated keeping you in the dark, but he felt as if it was for the better.
“make what stop? jake, your scaring me.” you asked, trying to keep your voice level as to not freak him out even more. jake couldn’t respond, tears leaking from his eyes as small whimpers fell from his mouth.
you had no idea what was going on with your boyfriend and you wish you knew. but you decided to treat it as a panic attack and hoped that you would be able to help him breathe again.
“focus on my touch.” you spoke up, placing your hands in jake’s. he immediately grips your hands tightly, his breathing still erratic.
“focus on my voice.” you said, causing jake to shake his head but you forced him to look at you.
“yes you can, focus on my voice. focus on what i am saying to you.” you continued to speak, hoping to ground jake. he constantly squeezed your hands and you couldn’t help but notice his strength. you ignored the pain and kept speaking to jake until you could see that his breathing returned to normal.
“sorry.” jake mumbled once he had finally calmed down, bowing his head in embarrassment. you immediately pulled the boy into a hug and placed a kiss on top of his head to reassure him.
“i don’t know what the hell is going on with you— but that doesn’t matter right now. don’t be sorry because i’ll always be there for you.” you mumbled. jake hugged you back, a small smile on his face. he wasn’t sure when he was ready to reveal his secret, but he was glad that you didn’t pressure him and would be by his side regardless.
610 notes · View notes
illness-cupid · 4 months ago
Text
just thinking about virgin!anton being the cutest boy asking for you pussy, he's not the type to vocalize his desires, but his vulnerable look says it all.
"p-please?" he begs softly as he squeezes his own bulge in his pants, his eyes clouded with pleasure as his dick leaks pre-cum. anton was so shy that he masturbated over his underwear, he never touched his own dick freely, he was definitely the shyest boy you knew.
"oh, what's wrong, baby? you don't want to show me your cock? is my baby that shy?" you teased, caressing his thick thigh, the boy just begged for your touch through his eyes, he was desperate. anton finally unbuttons his own pants, still extremely embarrassed, the boy's heart was beating so fast that he could faint.
"good boy! you're doing well." you praised him as you moved your panties to the side, you were ready to receive him. upon noticing the boy's difficulty in removing his own pants, you offered to help him by pulling the piece of clothing down without any objection.
"i'm not gonna hurt you, hm? trust me." you said finally exposing anton's stiff cock, it was big and thick with some bulging veins. it was hard to believe that the cutest, shyest boy you knew had such a thick dick.
"i-i don't think this is a good idea, i'm too big, it will hurt..." anton was desperate, he was certainly insecure about his own size and worried about the possibility of hurting you. however, for you the idea of ​​feeling anton's dick poking your womb was tempting, after all, you were far from innocent and untouched.
"don't worry, i love big boys." you gave a teasing smile and inserted the top of anton's cock into your little pussy, the boy gave a choked moan and looked at you with that famous "puppy look". without much ado, you slowly descend on Anton's cock, swallowing the entire length with your pussy.
"o-oh, you're so tight, you're so perfect...i love you." anton was so vulnerable you felt sorry, you had barely started to move and he was already going crazy. despite being very provocative, you were still getting used to his size, moving slowly on his lap in an attempt to get used to it faster. finally you get momentum and start riding on anton's lap, your whole body trembled as you felt the top of his dick poking your sensitive spot.
anton, still a little embarrassed, grabbed your waist with both strong and large hands pushing your hips against his, he thrust upwards unintentionally in an attempt to get more contact with your pussy, you didn't take your eyes off his, it was almost a connection of souls. he moved his finger to your clit clumsily massaging the area and watching you squirt on his dick.
"i-im cumming..." he warned, hoping you were going to pull his dick out of you, but you just continued until he came in your pussy, he remained silent just watching you lift off his dick completely full of cum.
"oh, you creampied me..." you teased, noticing anton's lost and satisfied look.
"good boy."
966 notes · View notes