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gloomskulls · 5 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after finding the courage and the balls to ask you out, Peter couldn't help but test the waters.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any. MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs

Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.

The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.

Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.

He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.

Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.

He wanted you.

Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.

The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.

Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.

"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?

Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good

As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?

But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?

I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.

Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?

That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.

But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.

He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.

He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.

What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?

He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.

But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.

He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.

What if you didn't reply?

What if you did?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"

He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.

For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.

What happens next?

"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"

He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.

Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.

"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.

Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.

"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.

"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.

"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"

Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"

The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.

"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"

He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."

May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"

"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."

By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"

"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone

"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”

May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."

Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"

"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.

Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.

Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."

"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.

"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."

Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.

May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."

Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."

So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"

Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"

He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.

What if this is a mistake?

But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.

And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

There you were.

"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."

Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."

You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.

Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.

“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”

Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"

"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.

Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.

You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.

When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.

Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.

The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.

But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.

This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.

As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.

He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.

"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.

The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.

The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.

Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!

"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"

"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."

You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."

He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.

Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.

Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.

"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"

"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"

"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"

Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."

You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"

"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."

"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."

Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."

That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.

“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”

Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”

“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.

Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.

There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"

You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"

"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."

"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.

'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.

Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"

You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."

Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.

But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.

Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.

“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.

You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”

The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.

By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.

“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”

The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"

Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"

"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."

Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.

After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.

It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.

However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.

"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"

He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.

"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''

You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.

"I think that's really admirable, Peter."

That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.

Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.

"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."

But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."

But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"

You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.

The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.

So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.

"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.

After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.

"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."

You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."

Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."

As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.

"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.

You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.

"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.

Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.

"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"

You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.

Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.

Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.

"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.

Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.

"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.

"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."

You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.

Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."

His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.

"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."

Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"

Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.

"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.

"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."

His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.

"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit

You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth

This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.

He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.

He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.

He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.

Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.

Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.

One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.

You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.

Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.

As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.

Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.

Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.

Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.

Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.

His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.

You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.

"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.

"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"

He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.

You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered

The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.

Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.

He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"

Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch

Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"

He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.

Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.

"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me

389 notes · View notes

lewisvinga · 1 year ago

Text

doctor! doctor! | lando norris x fem! reader x oscar piastri !

summary; the average life of a med student dating not one, but two f1 drivers

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; cursing, suggestive comment

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! as a nursing major, i <3 anything to do w the reader being in the medical field ! also didn’t realize for the messages lando is just ‘lando’ so pretend his contact is ‘lan<33’😭😭😭

masterlist !

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; my boys sending me selfies so i don’t lose my mind today 🧡🧡] [caption 2; reason why i’m losing my mind; my first med school exam🤓]

landonorris replied to your story !

landonorris u literally graduated top of ur class, u can do this 🧡🧡🧡

yourusername why’d i have to be so passionate abt this career 😔

landonorris bc ur super duper smart !

landonorris osc and i miss you!! ( he won’t admit it but he’s sad you’re not w us😒 )

yourusername i miss my boys too ☹️ ( he does this every time )

landonorris he wants to act so cool 🙄🙄

yourusername well tell him spring break is in 2 months and i’ll be able to attend at least one (1) race this semester 😕

landonorris as much as i wish you can see us more often, you gotta go help save lives !

yourusername and i gotta study so i can go save lives !😣

landonorris: good luck ! liked by yourusername !

oscarpiastri replied

oscarpiastri that latte looks sick😯

yourusername stfu i know ur sad that i’m missing so many races this season😒

oscarpiastri lando told you ?

yourusername yes u don’t have to act all cool or whatvr 🙄

yourusername my spring break is in 2 months, i’ll be able to go to a race then !😁

oscarpiastri 2 months TOO LONG💔

oscarpiastri and go study u have an exam in 3 days 🙄🙄

yourusername STOP I’M TRYING TO AVOID IT

yourusername nvm just remembered i dont know anything, i’ll facetime u and lan later? okay???

oscarpiastri already waiting !

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others !

yourusername: a week filled with clinicals, studying, cheering for my favorite boys, and more studying !

tagged; yourbestfriend, friendone, friendtwo, oscarpiastri, landonorris

landonorris: oscarpiastri look at our girl studying to be a future life saver 🥹🥹

oscarpiastri: soooo smart, future dr. l/n🧡

yourusername: i love & miss you both sm☹️

landonorris: doctor! doctor! i’m injured and i need help!

yourusername: not a doctor yet lan

landonorris: shhh play along

oscarpiastri: don’t he’s being mean to me

landonorris: LIAR!!

oscarpiastri: why’d u get black coffee u never do

yourusername: bold of u to assume i didn’t get a latte after trying yourbestfriend americano

yourbestfriend: you’re studying to be a DOCTOR, how do u not like black coffee

yourbestfriend: dawg who let us study to be doctors 😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣

yourusername: LMFAOOO

friendone: stay healthy guys , ur future doctors are currently making tiktoks instead of studying

friendtwo: like studying wasn’t making u lose ur mind too !!

username: y/n studying to be a doctor is so sick

username: ur the coolest wag

username: bro i’m a nursing student and i’m dyinggggg idk how u do med school

yourusername: me neither tbh

username: imagine studying to be a DOCTOR and BOTH of ur bfs are f1 drivers, that’s actually insane

username: i wanna be u

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; my loves 🧡always cheering for you both 🫂🧡] [caption 2; time for clinicals 😣 ( will watch race highlights after sigh )]

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; finally in my happy place after weeks and weeks of studying and clinicals 🤍🤍] [caption 2; my pretty boys 🫶 can’t wait to be a doctor and see them in the er from doing stupid shit🧡🧡🧡 ( stop jumping on the bed before one of you hurt your head PLEASE) ]

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #lando norris smau #lando norris scenarios #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri scenario #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader

1K notes · View notes

snowseasonmademe · 8 days ago

Text

Screaming like a bad dream

warning ‼️: smut

word count: 3,758

pairing: aurelien x black female reader

summary: a heated argument erupts into an intensely physical, emotionally charged encounter that leaves you completely wrecked, aching, and unwilling to even pick up your shoes afterward.

tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt

@btslover117 @kennaskorner

@leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

@jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas @amirawrah @simplementemeencantafutbol @kjlovesbigwilo

note: here’s a fic for my fellow sister wives! i tried to make this long because i like them 4,000+ words but my eyes were getting tired lol. it’s still good though😚! as always, enjoyed and tell me what you think. also if i forgot you in the tag list can you comment please, i think k i got everyone but idk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aurélien brought something out of you that most never got to see. He didn’t just bring out the freak in you—he unlocked her. That side of you, hidden beneath layers of polish, control, and perfectly curated social media posts, only ever came out for him. You never said it, but deep down you liked the twisted rhythm you two had. It was almost toxic… in the way cigarettes taste good to someone trying to quit.

You didn’t kiss unless you were fucking. That was the rule. Safety protocol. A barrier you both silently agreed to so you wouldn’t fall too deep. The only time he held your hand was when it was pinned to the bed. The only time he dropped the slick, teasing tone was when he was deep inside you, saying things that made your heart want things your mind couldn’t afford. Because if he ever talked to you like that in the daylight, you both knew… there’d be no turning back.

And now here you were, standing in your apartment already irritated, brushing gloss onto your lips while arguing with him over the phone.

“Just come get me. You asked me to come out and you don’t even fucking pick me up?!” you snapped, pacing slightly.

“I said come see me. I didn’t say I would come get you,” he replied, calm like he always was—too calm, and that made it worse.

You sucked your teeth. “You’re actually so fucking annoying, bro. You piss me off every day.”

There was a pause, and then a low chuckle through the speaker. “I must not piss you off that much. I was inside you two days ago.”

You stared at your screen like it insulted your whole bloodline before muttering, “Boy, get off my phone,” and hung up.

You exhaled slowly, trying not to throw your phone or your pride out the window. Rolling your eyes, you headed back to your closet. You grabbed the black sweatpants and the fitted black long-sleeve dress—the one that always made your ass sit right without screaming look at me. You never wore anything too extra around him. You hated being too dressed up when you knew you’d be too tired—or too fucked out—to undress yourself later. Thankfully, Aurélien had no problem handling that for you.

Your phone buzzed with a message:

Don’t get an uber. I will send someone for you.

You didn’t reply. You just narrowed your eyes at the screen like it owed you answers. How he gonna tell me to come to him, then send his driver? you thought. He’s so… difficult.

You checked your reflection. Your hair was tied into a low, messy bun—intentional, but not too perfect. You weren’t trying to make it last. You already knew it’d be ruined by the end of the night. A few tendrils framed your face, softening your look just enough. You sat on your couch, arms folded, feeling that familiar thrill start to build in your stomach.

You weren’t supposed to be doing this. That was half the point.

Your life had never been your own. Growing up as the daughter of an NBA Hall of Famer meant the spotlight had always followed you, uninvited. Then you built a name for yourself as a stylist to the stars—young, Black, powerful. You were your own brand. You’d mastered control, privacy, distance. But with Aurélien, it was the opposite. With him, you gave in. Not completely. Just enough to feel like you were still in charge. Just enough to taste freedom.

You liked him more than you admitted. But to be with him for real? That would require him to be… softer. Submissive, even. And that would never happen. He liked control just as much as you did. He liked your fire, your sharp tongue. He liked telling you to shut up and bend over. He liked seeing the challenge in your eyes before you let him win.

He’d been with girls before, sure. The kind that folded with a glance. You didn’t. You made him wait. You made him chase. And once he got you, he earned it. And he knew it. That’s what kept him coming back. That’s why this little “situation” worked. You both got what you needed: a friend who knew your body, a confidant who didn’t ask questions, and a secret you didn’t want to let go of.

Even if it was a bad dream. Even if you both knew there was no looking back once it went too far.

You got another text:

He’s outside. See you soon.

You scoffed at how dry he was being. No punctuation, no emoji, not even a goddamn “hey.” Just cold. You could practically hear the nonchalance in his tone, feel the shrug behind the words. He always got like this when you were mad at him—when you raised your voice, when you didn’t play it sweet. That little phone argument earlier must’ve really gotten under his skin.

You muttered a curse under your breath as you grabbed your spend-the-night bag—small, sleek, black leather with gold accents. You weren’t planning to actually spend the night, but you brought it every time just in case. Just in case you changed your mind. Just in case he asked you to stay. You blew out all the candles one by one, their soft light disappearing into the faint smoke trails curling toward the ceiling. The room smelled like the mix of sandalwood and vanilla you always lit when you were getting ready to see him. Familiar. Intimate. Almost too intimate.

Your sneakers echoed across the floor as you walked to the door, the cool metal of the handle biting into your palm as you swung it open. The black SUV sat idling in your driveway like a silent, brooding shadow. Its tinted windows made it impossible to see inside, but you felt the weight of being watched—always watched. The city night reflected off its polished surface like ink, broken only by the slow blink of turn signals.

You pulled the door open and slid in. The interior smelled like new leather and money—rich and sterile. The temperature was perfect: warm enough to relax you, cool enough to keep you from sinking too far into sleep. The darkness inside was comfortable, almost luxurious.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the driver said in a thick Spanish accent, glancing back at you through the rearview mirror. His voice was deep and polite.

“Would you like some music?”

“Yeah, actually, I would.”

He tapped something on the dash, and the speakers hummed to life with the low, gritty voice of a French rapper you didn’t recognize. It sounded like Bobby Shmurda if he’d been born in Paris—rough, melodic, moody. The bass rolled through the car like a lullaby. You melted into the seat, arms crossed, head tilted back. The engine purred beneath you, and before you could stop yourself, your eyes drifted shut.

You only stirred when you felt a familiar touch. Fingers, large and warm, skating down your forearm with an unhurried softness.

“Y/N,” Aurélien’s voice said close to your ear, accented and low, like he didn’t want to wake you too suddenly. “You’re here. Wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open. The first thing you saw was his torso—tight black shirt clinging to muscle and warmth. He looked down at you, no smirk, no playfulness. Just… him. Still. Waiting.

You stretched, just a little, and let your hand slide into his. Your fingers found his without thinking, and the way he held you was steady but casual. Like he wasn’t trying to be sweet but couldn’t help it. You leaned into his side as he guided you out of the SUV, one hand still holding yours, the other gripping your bag. You didn’t even try to stand up straight—you let him support you, let your cheek rest against his chest.

His scent hit you full force—clean skin, faint cologne, the trace of something spicy and masculine. It cleared the fog from your head instantly.

“You want to go back home?” he asked, genuine concern hiding under his usual detachment. “You seem tired.”

He wasn’t offering to let you stay. That wasn’t what you two did.

“No,” you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You straightened up and looked at him, suddenly annoyed again. Remembering the shit he pulled earlier. The way he made you call him, then argued about who should pick who up like it was your privilege to come to him.

You followed him inside, through the wide glass doors and into the living room. You kicked off your shoes at the edge of the carpet, out of respect. No shoes in the house—always. You hated that you still respected the little rules, even when you were mad.

The place looked different. Sleeker. Cleaner. No more tacky bachelor pad vibes. Thank God. The cold, empty luxury was replaced by softer lighting, darker wood tones, thicker rugs. You noticed the piano in the corner behind you. He ate you out on that once—your back arched on the keys, the sound of moaning and music colliding. The glass doors led to the pool outside. He fucked you against the edge months ago, the water barely muffling your cries. Right in front of you—the floor—he had your legs so far apart you walked like a newborn deer for three days.

The thunk of your bag hitting the floor snapped you out of your daze.

“If you’re gonna be a bitch all night, can you at least be gentle with my bag?” you said without turning around. “There’s expensive shit in there.”

“I can buy fifty more of whatever have in there,” he muttered as he circled the couch and dropped into the seat next to you.

He reached for your foot to pull it into his lap like he always did, but you snatched it away before he could. “Don’t touch me.”

He sucked his teeth, rolled his eyes, and stood up without a word. Walked straight to his room and didn’t look back.

You blinked. What the fuck?

You weren’t having it.

You got up, your steps quick and heavy, and followed him down the hall. He was on his bed already, laid out across it like a painting, phone in hand, ignoring your presence completely.

“What the hell did you bring me here for?” you snapped. “I could’ve stayed home.”

“You should’ve,” he said calmly, eyes glued to the screen. “If you were going to come just to act like that.”

You stared at him, stunned. He knew you hated when people didn’t look you in the eye. You reached over and grabbed his phone, tossing it toward the foot of the bed with a controlled aggression that said you were one second from losing it.

He looked at you. Unamused.

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t do that.”

“No. YOU don’t do that.” Your voice rose as you poked his chest. “I didn’t have to come here. You wanted to see me. You practically begged me. Now you’re acting like you don’t miss me? I know you do. You know what I came here for. So stop playing.”

“You said not to touch you. So I won’t. That’s what you want, right?”

The calmness in his voice was infuriating. You laughed bitterly.

“You know what? I’m not doing this with you tonight. I’m gonna shower and go.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned and stormed back to the living room, grabbed your bag, and headed for the guest bathroom. The hallway was too quiet, your feet the only sound echoing through the space. You shut the door behind you, tossed your bag on the counter, and turned the water on hot.

The steam rose fast. You peeled your clothes off slowly, muttering under your breath.

“I could be in bed with my cats right now… he pisses me off with that sexy ass accent. Always trying to argue, like that shit’s foreplay.”

You stepped into the shower, careful to keep your hair dry. It wasn’t wash day and you weren’t about to ruin a fresh silk press over him. You let the water roll over your body, easing the tension out of your shoulders, your back, your thighs.

You stood there, breathing. Finally calm. Finally quiet.

Then you felt it—strong arms circling your waist from behind.

You gasped, startled. “What the fuck—”

Before you could finish the sentence, his mouth was on your neck, warm and possessive. His lips found that one spot that made your knees buckle, the one he always kissed when he was trying to say sorry without words.

You moaned—loud, guttural, like the sound had been yanked out of you with no warning. Your fingers, still wet and shaky from rinsing conditioner out of your hair, scrambled behind you until they found skin. Muscle. Him. You grabbed at whatever you could—his wrist, his forearm, the wide stretch of his thigh pressed against your backside like a brand. Your nails scraped down the hard slope of his abs, then latched onto his waist like you were trying to anchor yourself in the middle of a storm.

Your legs parted like they were wired to his pulse instead of your brain. You didn’t even realize you were doing it—didn’t feel the cold tile or the slippery floor beneath your feet. All you felt was him: the steady heat of his chest flush against your back, the steam curling between you like sweat, and the way his dick—hard and thick and angry—pressed against the small of your spine, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t have something to say—you had plenty—but because the way he gripped your hips shut you up faster than any insult could. His palms were hot, fingers digging into your sides like they were molded to fit there, like they owned that part of you. You felt the first brush of his lips on your neck—light, taunting—before his teeth followed. He bit down just enough to make you gasp.

And it wasn’t just sex.

It was payback. For the way you rolled your eyes at him earlier. For that slick shit you said before storming into the bathroom. For daring to act like you weren’t about to let him fuck you stupid the second he touched you.

He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. His silence roared. It throbbed. It clung to your skin louder than the water hitting your shoulders. The tension was animal. Ferocious. And then his hand slid down your body with a brutal kind of grace, like he’d been waiting for the perfect second to make you fall apart.

His middle finger found your clit like it lived there—zero hesitation. Just heat and friction and control. He didn’t tease. He didn’t check. He already knew. He made tight, hard circles like he was tuning you up—getting you ready to sing. Your moan hit the wall so hard it bounced back into your ears.

“Aurélien—fuck—” you gasped, hips jerking.

“Don’t speak,” he hissed, his voice a growl against the shell of your ear. His tone was sharp—mean. But his breath was hot, ragged. Desperate.

That voice—low and brutal and breathless—tore through your spine like it was dragging claws down your nerves. And God, it made you wetter. It was embarrassing how fast you soaked his hand, how quick your knees buckled the second his fingers pushed past your folds. You were already dripping down your thighs—dripping—and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

He slid two fingers into you like he was angry at how easy it was. Like your body was the one betraying you. They went in all the way to the knuckle, stretching you open with that thick, perfect pressure that always made your eyes roll back. You moaned again—no words, just a sound dragged from the bottom of your gut.

Your hand shot out, slapped against the wall for balance. Your other hand reached back blindly to grab his wrist. You weren’t trying to stop him. You just needed something to hold onto before your legs gave out.

“F-fuck—wait—ugh—” you whimpered, voice cracking.

“I said don’t talk,” he snapped again, and this time, he grabbed your jaw with his free hand and shoved two wet fingers between your lips. You gagged slightly, but you took them anyway. You always did.

“Mmhmm, Elle est là” he said quietly (There she is)

You sucked, desperate and messy. Tasted yourself. Swallowed like it would keep you grounded. It didn’t. He had you teetering on the edge of consciousness—and all he was using were his fingers.

He moved them inside you like he was marking territory. Not slow and sweet—deep and deliberate. Curling. Stroking that spot that made your thighs shake and your eyes water. Your moans vibrated around his fingers, and he smirked behind you like he could hear every sound you tried to muffle.

Then—without warning—he pulled them out. Your pussy clenched at the sudden emptiness. You sobbed, not even realizing it.

He didn’t give you time to recover. He spun you around, eyes wild and unreadable, and shoved you up against the wall so fast your breath flew out of your chest. You barely managed to gasp before his mouth crashed into your nipple. Devoured it. Tongue flicking, teeth grazing, sucking like he was starved and you were the only thing left to eat.

Your legs lifted without him asking. Wrapped around his waist. Locked at the ankles like muscle memory. His hands slid under your ass, lifted you like you were nothing. Like you belonged there.

And then—then—he pushed in.

One long, thick, ruthless thrust. You screamed. Screamed. Not a cute little moan. Not a whimper. A scream that rattled out of your chest like it’d been clawing to escape. Your back arched hard. Your nails raked down his shoulders. Your whole body lit up like a live wire.

He groaned—deep and low and filthy—his breath hot on your neck. His dick felt like it was carved just for you. He filled you in a way that made no damn sense. Too much. Too perfect. Every time he bottomed out, it felt like he was fucking your soul loose.

He pulled back slow—teasingly slow—just to slam back in hard enough to make your vision flicker. Your head hit the wall. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out. You were speechless. Useless. Just a vessel for his frustration. His hunger. His claim.

He was talking now. Low. Rough. Each word dropped like a hammer.

“Thought you were done with me?”

Thrust.

“Thought you could walk away?”

Thrust.

“Say one more word, I swear to God—”

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

You cried out, clawed at his back, gripped his shoulders like they were lifelines.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he snarled against your neck.

He angled his hips just slightly—and there it was. That perfect spot. That maddening, bliss-drenched, nerve-shattering spot that made your legs shake and your walls clamp down like a vise.

You broke.

You fucking broke.

Your orgasm hit like a brick through glass. No build-up. No warning. Just boom—your body locking up, your muscles convulsing, your voice cracking into a shattered, stuttering scream. You clenched around him so hard he grunted, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he chased his own release.

He kept going. Kept fucking you through it, like he was addicted to the way you broke down around him. Like he needed it to finish. And when he finally did—when he let out that last, ragged groan and flooded you with heat—you swore your heart stopped.

You didn’t remember the next few minutes. Maybe not even the next hour.

Everything after your release blurred—your body weightless, vision flickering between dark and light like your mind was struggling to stay in your skin. You remembered how your legs stopped working, trembling so hard beneath you that they gave out completely. You didn’t fall, though. His arms were already there, sliding under your thighs and across your back like instinct. Like muscle memory. He lifted you like he always did after—like you were his. Cradled you against his chest like something precious and messy all at once.

Your lips pressed to the slope of his neck, too dazed to kiss, too gone to hold back. You just stayed there, breathing him in. The sharp tang of his cologne clung to the steam, mixing with the clean sweat still cooling on his skin. You could taste salt on your tongue. Hear nothing but the faint gurgle of the water draining behind you and the wet squelch of his feet against the tile.

Then softness. A towel—thick, warm, pulled around your body as he settled you gently onto the edge of the counter. He rubbed the terry cloth against your skin with care, patting between your thighs, behind your neck, across your shoulders. His fingertips brushed over the welts and tremors he’d left behind, as if trying to soothe the very chaos he’d created. He didn’t speak. Neither did you.

The silence was a blanket. Heavy. Intimate. Almost holy.

Your cheek found his chest again, drawn to the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your skin. His heart beat slow and low in your ear, anchoring you. It made you want to cry. Or maybe come again.

Time disappeared inside that stillness.

And then: the sharp, cold brightness of your phone screen breaking through the dark like a slap.

You didn’t remember picking it up. Didn’t even realize it was in your hand until the glow seared your sore, half-closed eyes. You blinked at the message, your vision slow to focus.

Left your shoes here. Come get them if you don’t bring that attitude.

Your throat was raw. Like you’d screamed through fire. Your body ached like it had been worshipped and wrecked. Every limb buzzed and throbbed, your muscles sore in places you forgot could hurt. But your pussy—God. Your pussy ached in the best, filthiest way. Tender and swollen and satisfied in a way that was almost obscene. You felt the faintest pulse between your legs and had to close your eyes to keep from moaning.

You groaned out loud and let the phone fall to your stomach with a dull thud. Your fingers were too limp to grip it anymore, anyway.

Your head lolled back onto the pillow as you exhaled slow, deep, and sore.

There was no fucking way you were going back for those shoes anytime soon. He could keep them. Bronze them. Build a shrine around them for all you cared.

#Spotify #deonn writes ✍🏾#aurelien tchouameni smut #aurelien tchouameni fanfic #aurelien tchouameni fic #aurelien tchouameni imagines #aurelien tchouameni imagine #aurelien tchouameni x you #aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni #football x reader #footballer imagines #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer fanfic #football fanfic #football fic

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ghstzzn · 11 months ago

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saints. ━━ jung wooyoung

pairing(s): jung wooyoung x fem!reader (a dash of san x reader.)

genre: SMUT! MDNI! angst (if you squint)

synopsis: addicted to the sweet taste of hatred, you let wooyoung use you over and over again— even after fucking his best friend. 1.6k words.

warnings/general tags: smut (mdni.), angst like if u squint fr, unprotected sex, mean dom!wooyoung, cum eating (?) rough sex, kind of degradation?, name calling (he calls her a whore twice but one is not in a sexy way), ass smacking, overstim, none really for san except f!rec oral, honestly his scene wasn’t all that intense, it was for plot, they are toxic, not a lot of plot just needed dom wooyoung, he sends pics of u both to san ;) (lmk if that needs an actual tag???)

note: needed to put out a cute little nasty smut to distract everyone from my evil plans!! i wanted to do a threesome (we know how much i fw those) but i got way too into the solo wooyoung smut so 😭 sorry!!!!! // also i tried a new thing in my writing with the sudden scene changes idk if i fw it tho!!

You weren’t going to lie to anyone– you knew exactly how you got here.

With San, the best friend of your ex-boyfriend (some would even call them platonic soulmates), in between your legs, lapping up your juices and praising you as if you were a goddess.

Yet, you weren’t anything close to a god. Not a saint, an angel– you were nothing. Wooyoung’s top priority was making sure you got that through your pretty little head during every screaming match that ended with you fucking the souls out of each other. You would feel guilty for San, but you can’t.

Because he knows.

Sans bruising grip on your thighs tells you everything you need to know. He pushes your legs further apart as he sits up, your release smeared across his lips. You stare at him, breathing heavily as you recover from your orgasm.

“Ride me?”

And with that, you’re whimpering as you force your body upright to ride him. San grips your hips, assisting just enough to help your hips roll against him, his cock hitting that sweet spot so deliciously.

If there were a badge specifically for fucking your best friends ex girlfriend; San would wear it with honor.

Your phone dings repeatedly, enough to snap you out of your fucked out state. You lift your arm to reach for your phone but San is quick to grab your wrist, and within a second you’re placed on your back again as he sets a pace that has you seeing stars.

And it always ends the same.

San is wiping your cum stained thighs, massaging your hips as he does so. You both giggle and tease each other as you dress yourselves.

“See you soon?”

“Get home quickly! It’s cold.”

“Drive safe, baby.”

“Text me when you get home!”

Such domestic, comforting statements that could have anyone’s heart fluttering. Phrases that would surely allude to you being in a relationship with the man who leaves your dorm multiple times a week during the night.

You smile to yourself as you watch your ex-boyfriend's best friend walk towards the elevator, closing your door softly once he enters.

Sitting criss cross on your bed, you grab your phone, checking through your notifications. You pause when Wooyoung's contact pops up; multiple missed calls and over ten messages sent to you.

do not answer him, girl:

are you up? y/n answer the phone please. i just wanna see you. baby? are u studying? can i help? baby come on u read all my messages

you:

don't call me baby, wooyoung

wooyoung: where are u? let me pick u up?

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You know you shouldn’t. It never ends well for either of you, and your heart physically hurts when you see him or hear about him.

So you do exactly what you shouldn’t do.

━━━━━━━━━

Your eyes flutter open and you breathe in softly as you bury yourself deeper into Wooyoung's hold. You lift your head slightly to study your ex-boyfriend’s face.

It’s moments like this that delude you into thinking everything could change. That you and Wooyoung could work again— to be happy again. To be the couple you once were.

You held onto every ounce of hope you could, because you really did still love him. But at the same time, you held so much hatred for the man holding you in his arms as if he were yours. You didn’t sleep with him last night, he really did want to see you. And this only made it worse for you.

“You’re still here?” A groggy voice speaks up.

You scoff. “Of course I’m still here, Wooyoung.”

He yawns and removes his arms from you with haste, quickly sitting up and running his hands through his hair.

“Why?” You don’t reply to him. Why were you still there? Lingering around you ex-boyfriend pathetically— as if you hadn’t just fucked his best friend. What is wrong with you?

Wooyoung stands from the bed, rolling his shoulders back as he stretches and pops his neck, “You know, when I picked you up last night?”

“What about it?”

“Your room reeked of sex.” And with that he walks out of his room, mumbling something about you.

You roll your eyes and practically jump out of his bed, following him to the kitchen.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that?”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, Wooyoung.” You stomp in front of him. “Say it.”

“I just think it’s pathetic how you let another man fuck you yet ran straight to me after a few texts.” Wooyoung states, leaning against the counter.

A few texts?

You inhale deeply, “First of all, it’s none of your business who I’m fucking or not. Second, you practically begged me to come over— don’t act like a goddamn saint here”

“You look like a whore.”

“Good one.”

“Get out of my house, Y/N.”

Wooyoung pushes past you, ignoring your presence as he picks up any messes from the nights before.

“You can’t just-“ You run your hands over your face, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Wooyoung.”

He doesn’t respond, giving you a sign to keep going.

“What are we doing here? We are broken up for fucks sake. You sit here and start fights with me but a few days later you’re begging me to come over, Wooyoung, begging.”

He turns around, rolling his eyes directly at you. Your chest only boils with more anger at his childish antics.

“Is this a fucking joke to you? Do you think this is a game?”

“Yes! It’s hilarious, Y/N.” Wooyoung shouts in response, “it’s fucking hilarious that no matter what you’re doing in your life, you will always come back to me.”

“And I'm trying to tell you that you aren’t any better.”

Wooyoung chuckles, “Well aren’t we just perfect for each other then?”

You lean against the back of the couch as you watch him march around his house.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just work.. like try again.”

━━━━━━━━

“F-fuck, Wooyoung!”

You grip the back of his neck as he harshly thrusts into you. Your legs wrapped tightly around him as he fucked you into his mattress.

“Does he fuck you like this? Huh?” Wooyoung sits up, removing your hands from his neck and gripping your face with his own hand. “Answer me.”

“N-no, no, please!” You throw your head back at a particular thrust, clinging onto his forearms.

He groans as you clench around him, readjusting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“So pathetic— like I said.”

He pulls out, but before you could whine and whimper, he flips you over onto your hand and knees, smacking your ass before thrusting back into you.

Wooyoung groans and lets out breathy moans as he returns his brutal pace, muttering profanities and slight praises at you.

“Fuckk, taking me so good. Made for me to fuck you, right?” He smacks your ass again. “Should I record this? You look so- fuck.. You look so pretty. Gotta show him.”

You drop your face into the mattress, Wooyoungs words going in one ear out the other, too fucked out to pay attention.

“Whaddya think? Wanna let San see how good you’re taking my cock?”

Your eyes widen as you choke back a moan. Wooyoung chuckles from behind you, delivering another thrust that has you clenching and releasing around him.

“That make you cum?” He slows his thrusts down, but doesn’t stop once. “C’mon tell me— is he good? He fuck you like this, baby?”

Wooyoung starts to speed up again, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“Ah, pl- please, too much!”

“No, no, baby. Tell me everything.” He whines in your ear, mockingly. “Wanna hear how good my best friend fucks you.”

“N-not like you..” You whine.

Wooyoung lets out a low laugh, taking his fingers and wiping at the arousal and cum leaking down your thighs. He pulls you by your hair and taps his fingers at your mouth.

“He make you cum like this?” You submit once again and take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and lapping at your mixed juices on his fingers. He drops your hair and you catch yourself on the pillows.

“I'm sorry! I- "I'm sorry, ah, please!” You plead and beg with him as he thrusts into you at a brutal pace, tears lining your eyes.

“Awwe, you’re sorry? Wanna tell Sannie that you’re sorry too?” You almost miss the camera shutter click coming from his phone. “Should I send these to him? You look so pretty, my little whore.”

He tosses his phone to the side and grips your hips, tugging you back against him with every thrust. Wooyoung continued his pace as he chased his own high. You’re a trembling, crying mess as he finally cums inside of you, pulling out as he catches his breath.

Wooyoung rolls over to the side of you, running his hand through his sweaty hair and grabbing his phone with his other. He quickly taps away and throws it to the side again.

You slowly sit up, reaching over the bed to grab a shirt before Wooyoung stops you and tells you to wait. He comes back quickly and cleans you up just enough for you to rest without feeling like a puddle of body fluids, he leaves the room just as his phone lights up.

Suddenly you remember his remarks that he made as he pounded into you.

He knows about San.

You quickly grab your phone, seeing Sans's name pop up in Wooyoung notifications. You click the message without even thinking twice, gasping softly as you see a few photos of Wooyoung taking you from behind, covered in sweat and arousal.

You would get frustrated or embarrassed with the entire situation— considering your ex found out you were sleeping with his best friend. Especially right before seeing him. But San’s response only sent shivers down your body as your face started to heat up and your thighs clenched together.

taglist: @yourlocaljonghoe @304files (i know i dont have anything stating, but feel free to comment or send an ask for any taglists!)

(leaving his message up to ur sexy imaginations bc im gen thinking abt a woosan x reader next)

#ateez smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #wooyoung hard hours #wooyoung hard thoughts #wooyoung imagines #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #wooyoung fanfic

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joaosnovia · 3 months ago

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I'm craving some angsty kenan fics. So can you make a fic in which the reader is dating kenan but he always hangs out with his girl best friend. He had promised reader he'd be picking up for a premier night of her movie but he didn't show up. So later reader sees the stories of his girl bestfriend and him with some other friends having fun. Reader packs her bags and leaves for a while saying that she needs a break. Kenan rushes back home but reader is already gone. With happy ending please!

❦ - promises && rain.

summary:: it’s the night of your first movie premiere yet your supposed no1 biggest fan doesn’t attend. you attend his big matches so why doesn’t he attend your successes? he’s not an idiot so he takes it upon himself to make it up to you.

warnings:: angst ofc 😔.

writers note:: so uhm idk why this lowkey took me ages but it’s quite plain so hope you enjoy nonetheless! ALSO IVE FINISHED MY REQUESTS SO PLEASE SEND SOME IF U HAVE IDEAS BC MY CREATIVITY IS OUT.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

you glanced at the clock, heart sinking with every passing minute. kenan had promised he’d be there. ‘i won’t miss your premiere for the world,' he’d said, smile so convincing it had been impossible not to believe him. but the empty seat beside you at the theater said otherwise.

your phone buzzed. a flicker of hope, gone as soon as you saw the notification.

notification: instagram - leah added to their story

you shouldn’t look. you knew you shouldn’t. but your fingers moved on their own, tapping the screen. laughter spilled out, kenan, leah, and some friends at a rooftop bar. kenan grinning, arm slung over leah’s shoulder as they posed for a picture, drinks in hand. your stomach twisted. tonight had been your night. the one he promised to show up for. and instead, he was there. with her. again.

you closed the app, jaw tightening as you shoved your phone into your bag. disappointment weighed heavy on your chest, wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. it wasn’t just tonight. it was the calls he missed, the plans he forgot, the way leah always seemed to come first lately. you trusted him, but even trust had limits.

the apartment was quiet when you got home. your heels clicked against the floor as you tossed your keys on the counter. you stared at the framed photo of you and kenan on the shelf, smiling and happy, felt like a lifetime ago.

your suitcase came down from the closet with a thump. clothes were thrown in, not caring what you packed. you scribbled a note, heart pounding.

‘i need space. don’t call. don’t follow me.’

you left it on the counter, fingers hesitating just a second too long. then you turned, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

rain hit the windshield in steady patterns as you drove. no destination, just away. away from the hurt. away from the image of kenan laughing with someone who wasn’t you. you didn’t know how far you drove, didn’t care. eventually, you found a small motel, checked in, and curled up on the unfamiliar bed, letting exhaustion drag you under.

three days passed. your phone lit up with missed calls, texts piling up.

'please talk to me.'

'i’m sorry. i messed up.'

'where are you? just tell me you’re safe.'

you stared at the messages but never replied. your chest ached, torn between anger and sadness. between missing him and wanting to forget.

until the knock came.

you didn’t move at first, thinking it was housekeeping. but then

'please... just open the door.'

kenan’s voice. muffled, desperate. your heart lurched. no. no, you needed space.

but your feet betrayed you, carrying you to the door. you opened it and there he was. soaked from the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes rimmed red. he looked like he hadn’t slept. like the weight you felt had been crushing him too.

he breathed, taking a shaky step forward. 'i know you said not to come, but... i couldn’t just let you go like that.'

'kenan—'

'please. just listen.' his voice cracked, hand tugging through his wet hair. 'i was an idiot. i thought i could make it up to you later, that you’d understand... but god, i was so wrong. i should’ve been there. i should’ve chosen you, every time. i just... didn’t think, and that’s on me.'

you swallowed hard, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 'do you even realize how it felt? waiting for you... looking at those stories... seeing you with her?' your voice broke. 'i needed you. you promised.'

'i know,' he whispered, chest heaving. 'and i broke that promise. i’ll regret it every day if you let me. but please... give me another chance to fix this. i love you. i’m in love with you. and i can’t, i can’t lose you over my stupidity.'

the rain fell heavier around you both, soaking into your clothes, chilling your skin. for a moment, there was only silence, just your hearts beating, broken and hopeful.

and then, you stepped forward. let yourself fall into his arms. his warmth wrapped around you, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

'one more chance,' you whispered, voice barely audible against his chest. 'but kenan... no more broken promises.'

'never again,' he swore, pressing his lips to your temple. 'not ever.'

and somehow, standing there in the rain with him, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d both find your way back.

#kenan yildiz x y/n #kenan yildiz x you #kenan yildiz x reader #football x reader #football one shot #football fluff #football x y/n #football x you

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lovely-maryj · 2 months ago

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so here i was just scrolling down the adrien agreste tag on wattpad trying to find smth to read. and find one i did! it was updated recently and only has a few chapters so i decided to give it a chance.

the fic wasn't bad?? it's not my type cuz the mc/oc was OP and read like a mary sue. i usually dislike those character types but i needed to read an adrien fic so i kept going.

chapters 1 and 2 had a few red flags for me cuz in a chapter itself were like subchapters? like this: [title]

[text]

and so on. i thought that was just a thing of the author's so i made it to chapter 3 and lemme tell you idk how to feel lmao

i think the fic is ai-generated. ch 3 has those subchapter thingies and an outline?? like what? it was like this:

[title]

[text] → [explanation/elaboration]

...

like wtf?

AND GET THIS: the last paragraph was the nail in the coffin for me. it started with "This chapter showcases..." then proceeds to describe said chaper.

like this is definitely ai right? there is no fucking way this wasn't ai.

there was nothing in the synopsis/book desc that said this fic was ai-generated and there was nothing regarding this in the bio of the "author".

i feel cheated.

look, i'm all for ai making jobs easier but that's just it. they're supposed to be making our jobs easier. not doing the entire thing. if the "author" stated that this fic was ai-generated in the 1st place i would have no problems rn but they didn't. the fact that they didn't do that implies that they're saying that this fic was written with their words. but it wasn't. this fic was written with an ai's words. probably chatgpt's.

i legitimately feel cheated rn.

if you took the time of day to read this rant i rlly want to know ur thoughts so please message me or send me an ask. ty

ps. i stopped reading at chapter 3 cuz it rlly was the nail in the coffin for me i was being srs about that so idk what ch 4-6 look like

#lmj.rambles #adrien agreste #chat noir #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #fanfiction #wattpad #fanfic

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headcanonenthusiast · 1 year ago

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Kyle Garrick NSFW headcanons

This was so difficult to write for some reason and idk why 😭😭 I think I just had a lot of trouble writing for Gaz, because as much as I like him as a character, I'm not much of a Gaz girl. (Or, I wasn't before writing this. I think I changed my own mind with these headcanons 🤭)

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His biggest mission during sex is to make you scream.

-If you haven't screamed his name so loudly that it gets you a volume warning on a smart watch, he isn't done.

-Will beg you to be even louder if he isn't satisfied with your volume.

-"C'mon, louder. Louder, baby, you can be louder than that."

-Lowkey doesn't mind fucking you near an open window. Def leans down to whisper in your ear to encourage you to be louder.

-"Don't go covering your mouth now, love. Let the neighbors hear how good I'm making you feel."

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard.

-Calls you pretty girl/boy all the time.

-Especially if you're wearing something of his, whether it be a shirt or necklace or his dog tags.

-Honestly, whenever he sees you in his clothing, especially his dog tags, he goes crazy.

-"Look at you, pretty boy/girl. Keeping my shirt nice and warm for me."

-OBSESSED with taking you while you're on your stomach.

-He'll lean down to kiss your shoulders and back, fingers switching between your hip to your side.

-Isn't opposed to you being on top, as long as you're both enjoying yourselves.

-Like I said, he loves taking you from behind. As such, he sees any sort of marks or dots that you normally don't even see. And he'll run his fingers along any birthmarks/scars with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

-Feel like he'd like recording/taking pictures of it, too. (With consent ofc)

-And he definitely won't share those photos with anyone. They are only for his eyes and your own.

-"God, baby. I ruined you last night. Look at how messy your hair got."

-I feel like he sends the most gorgeous nudes.

-He basically poses for you like a model in front of the mirror. Mf knows he's hot.

-I feel like the main way he asks for sex is sending you a nude or spicy message. Normally doesn't ask for it outright, kinda let's it go over text or come into the night randomly.

-He sees eating you out/sucking you off as a great way to calm you down.

-If somethings got you upset, he'll get a small frown on his face and look more concerned. You don't have to tell him anything if you don't want to, though. Just let him gently eat your pussy/suck your dick and I can guarantee that you'll forget about whatever was upsetting you.

-If you feel more overstimulated or just have the tendency to cry from the sensations of sex, he's stopping and pulling out with a hand on your shoulder.

-"Oh shit, did I hurt you? I'm sorry, babe."

-And even if he didn't hurt you at all, it just felt super good, he never pressures you into continuing. If you want to keep going, he'll return to a similar pace but with more awareness of your facial expressions and noises.

-I feel like he'd want to try cockwarming you, but he's honestly so bad at keeping still. It's not his fault you feel too good to not move inside of.

-"Come on, baby. You feel so good, you're so fucking tight. It'd be sinful of me not to move."

-Please put your hands on his shoulders if you're on your back. Nothing will get him harder than you touching his shoulders.

-And if you cry out his name? His confidence shoots through the roof and he nearly cums right then and there.

-Prefers cumming on your stomach, back or thighs so he can take pictures afterwards.

-Aftercare includes him handing you some water before grabbing two game controllers, asking if you'd like to play a game before bed. And if you agree, y'all's moans won't be the only thing the neighbors complain about. Your laughter will probably be as loud as the moans, too.

-And maybe whoever loses the game has to bottom for the next round, idk 🤭

My hands hurt from typing so much 😭 but thanks to everyone who voted! It was challenging to write for Gaz, bc like I said, until an hour ago when I started writing this I wasn't super attracted to him, but I need to learn to write for characters I don't often think about more. Hope y'all enjoyed! Alejandro is up next 😏

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yuta-nakamots · 2 months ago

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have yourself a merry little christmas - q.kun (teaser)

Pairing - Kun x Reader

Genre - Fluff, Single Dad!Kun

Warnings - None? Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary - What started as a simple favor, turned into an unexpected friendship with Kun, a devoted single father new to town. Between playful bickering kids, chance encounters, and quiet moments filled with warmth, you begin to wonder if this holiday season holds more than just Christmas magic.

Teaser Word Count - 498

Estimated Release - Sometime next week idk

Taglist - (leave a comment or send me an ask/message if you'd like to be tagged when the full fic comes out!)

A/N - This was inspired by the song Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Michael Bublé. It is also a rewrite of a previous piece that I did about two years ago

When you had told your best friend, Lina, that you’d pick up her son from preschool, you thought that you’d just pop in and get the kid, that’s it. You didn’t know that you had signed yourself up to be the referee at a mini MMA fight.

“Sakuya, put the toy down,” you commanded the four-year-old you were supposed to be signing out. He was currently fighting over a little dragon figurine with a young girl who appeared to be near his age.

“No! I had it first!” He cried out. “Get your own dragon!”

“Sakuya, give her the dragon, we’re going home,” you stated firmly.

He refused to give up the toy and started whining even louder, prompting you to pull the toy out of his grasp. “You need to learn how to share,” you scolded before turning to the little girl he was fighting with, “I’m sorry about that sweetie, what’s your name?”

“Mei,” you were surprised when you heard two voices, one from the girl in front of you and another from behind you. Turning around, you saw a handsome young man, who you assumed was Mei’s father from the resemblance she bore to him. “Her name is Mei. Sorry about her, she can be a bit possessive about toys.”

“Oh, it’s alright, Sakuya here needs to learn how to share things properly,” you motioned over to the said boy who still had his eyes on the little dragon in your hands, “I can’t believe he’s nearly five years old and doesn’t know what sharing is.”

“Mei’s the same way. It must be an age thing,” the man said with a chuckle, “Is he yours?”

Your eyes widened as you hurried to explain your relation to Sakuya. “He’s not mine, I’m just here picking him up for my friend. She has her hands full being a student and all.”

“Ah, I see,” he remarked as he picked up Mei, “this little rascal is mine. I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.”

You felt a tug on your shirt and looked down to see Sakuya still eyeing the toy. “No, Sakuya. Mommy is waiting for you at home. I can buy you a little dinosaur if you want one so badly, how about that?” The boy broke into a smile at your offer.

“Oh, can you recommend some good kid’s stores in the area? I just moved here so I’m not too familiar with everything just yet,” the man informed you.

“At least you had the sense to come at the beginning of the school year, I pity the kids who are just thrown in during the middle of the school year,” you commented, “but the toy store I normally take this little guy to is the one near the end of this street, it’s in the little shopping center.”

“I’ll try taking Mei there once we get a little more settled in, thank you. My name is Kun, by the way. You are?”

#kvanity #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #kun fanfic #nct #wayv #kun #qian kun #nct x reader #wayv x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #nct fluff #wayv fluff

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 7 months ago

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Kinktober Day 25: Face sitting with Changbin

Trigger warnings: n/a

Content warnings: names (babe, sweetheart, baby), face sitting (it’s in the name), a couple ass slaps, idk changbin just got me boutta bark he’s hot as fuck

Summary: Your childhood best friend always gives you the most mind-blowing orgasms.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: hi all 🥰 after much consideration, i’ve decided to repost my kinktober 2022 stories. i had a great time writing these a couple years ago and want to share them again now that it’s been a while and i’ve had time to fall in love with them again. i hope you all enjoy! and by all means, feel free to send a message or comment here if you’d like to be part of the new tag list!

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

You never intended to fuck him but it quickly became a routine thing after a drunken night out. There were no romantic feelings between the two of you, nothing more than platonic love and the mutual desire to get off. He was just your best friend and the single best fuck you’d ever had and neither of you could get enough.

“Please?” He asked again, his bottom lip jutting out as he begged. “You said it yourself that you’d let me do anything I wanted.”

“Well, yeah, it’s your birthday. But I meant like…I dunno, something kinky we’ve never done before. Or something solely for your pleasure, not mine.” You gave a huff of laughter as your cheeks went a soft pink and he stood up, joining you at the kitchen sink to place his dishes there.

“Y/N, we’ve been over this a thousand times.” He rolled his eyes as he turned to you, his large hands moving to your shoulders and giving a gentle shake. “Getting you off gets me off. I wouldn’t ask for something that wouldn’t serve me in any way.” You were about to protest when he pulled you against him, chest to chest as his arms slipped around your waist, so he could whisper in your ear. “Besides, you made me a birthday dinner. I think it’s only fair that I get dessert and you know how much I love that sweet pussy.”

You shuddered at his tone and words, nodding enthusiastically as your heart raced excitedly. How could you deny him? He was the birthday boy, after all. “Let me finish the dishes and I’ll-”

“Later.” He gathered you back up in his arms as you tried to back away, trapping you against his hard body. “We can clean up dinner later. I want you now.”

You nodded dumbly and gently pushed against his chest. “Bedroom.” You whispered and he instantly released you, taking your hand instead. You stole a glance as you turned away and noticed the swell in his jeans. You’d have to fix that for him.

He wasted no time in pulling you back against him once in your room. He buried his face in your neck and took a deep breath, your scent going to his head and making him dizzy. “You’re wearing that perfume I like…”

“I am.” You hummed, tipping your head further back for him as your fingertips slipped under his black tee and ghosted over the bare skin just above his pants. You felt his muscles tense under your touch and smiled a little. There was something so gratifying and undeniably sexy about knowing the effect you had on him.

“You’re gonna drive me insane one of these days.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning against your skin before he pressed his lips to your neck.

“You should know by now that that’s my goal.” You giggled breathlessly, a thrill rushing through your body when his hands moved to rest on your ass. You shivered as his teeth gently scraped against your skin and you let out a soft sigh as you pushed him towards the bed. “Let’s not play around…”

“What if that’s what I want?” He grinned teasingly even as he let you lift his shirt up, raising his arms so you could take it the rest of the way off. “This is ‘solely for my pleasure’, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I get to have my fun?” He chuckled softly as you pushed him onto the bed, straddling his lap once he was seated.

“Mm maybe, but you know I’m impatient.” You teased back, trying to ignore the rush of arousal you felt as his hands rested on the backs of your thighs, right below your ass. He gave a squeeze before letting one finger tease you through your shorts and you let out a soft gasp.

“That’s why I’ve been training you.” He challenged and you couldn’t fight back as his fingertips teased your pussy. “What do you say, babe? Do I get to have my fun?”

“Bin, please don’t tease me…” You whined, grinding down on his fingers as you elected to ignore his question.

“You’re so cute when you’re all worked up.” He cooed, moving his hands to your hips. He let them travel under your shirt, lifting it up and over your head and biting his lip when he saw you’d decided to forego a bra. “Stand up.”

Ever the obedient girl, you quickly stood up. You almost lost your balance as he hooked his fingers in the belt loops of your denim shorts and yanked you towards him. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, and he immediately began to press kisses to your tummy, making your face flush red. You bit your lip as he let his hands move to your hips for a brief moment before allowing them to travel along your thighs, calluses rough against your smooth skin.

He grinned against your skin when your breath hitched as he suddenly slipped a hand between your legs, cupping you through your shorts. “How cute.” He whispered almost mockingly as he pulled back. “Take them off.”

You needn’t be told twice. You immediately shed your remaining clothes and stood bare before him, trying to avoid eye contact as your face heated up. “Stunning.” He pressed a kiss just below your belly button as he gently nudged your feet apart. You whimpered softly when he ran a finger through your folds, gathering up some of your arousal. You wanted to touch him, wanted to run your fingers, or maybe your tongue, over every inch of exposed skin. You wanted to feel his muscles tense and flex under your touch. But at the moment, he was taking his time with you.

You frowned and whined in protest when he pulled away and he chuckled softly at your dismay, licking his finger clean. “Needy girl.” He laid back, his feet just barely leaving the ground, and your mouth watered at the sight of him. He was fucking beefy. There was no other word to describe him. He was strong and warm and he had the cutest belly, though he always pouted when you mentioned it. His abs were soft, not as sculpted as other men as stocky as himself, and you regularly had to fend off the urge to pat his stomach or just rest your hands there. He had a light happy trail leading into his jeans, which were pulled taught across his stiff cock.

He was laid out on full display and you wanted to worship him. He was stunning. But before you could act, he spoke again. “Come have a seat, sweetheart. I wanna taste more of you.”

You wasted no time in joining him on the bed but hesitated to sit on his face and he rolled his eyes. “You do this every time.” He faked annoyance as he pulled you over him and situated you how he liked.

“I like when you manhandle me…” You shrugged, giggling softly when he paused. He scoffed before wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down. You didn’t fight, allowing yourself to relax into his touch. His tongue flattened against your pussy and you bit your lip, stifling a small sound as you looked down at him.

He was focused on your already-dripping cunt, giving teasing licks as his fingers spread you open for him. You jolted away from him when his tongue flicked over your clit but he pulled you back into him rather forcefully, eliciting a helpless whimper. He finally looked up at you and gave an amused grunt as he sealed his lips around your clit, watching your face contort in pleasure as he sucked.

The man was a god with his tongue and he knew it. He took pride in his skills and the fact that he could make you cum harder than any other man ever had. He was determined to give you that again as he sucked harshly on your clit, flicking his tongue at the same time. The sounds coming from between your legs were obscene and you couldn’t stifle each moan that bubbled up from your chest as your head tipped back. He wouldn’t want you to anyways.

Your hands tangled in his hair in an attempt to ground yourself and he groaned against your cunt, sending delicious vibrations through your core. Your jaw went slack and you let out a pathetic whine as you looked back down at him. His eyes had slipped shut when you looked away but he quickly found your gaze again when you moaned his name. Something about his expression made you clench around nothing and he chuckled against you, making you shudder as his hands slid to your ass.

He gave a slap and your hips jolted, making his nose bump against your clit as he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue inside you. “Oh fuck-” You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. His hands began to guide you back and forth so his nose repeatedly bumped your clit as he licked into you and you felt a light sheen of sweat begin to cover your body.

When you adopted his preferred rhythm as your own, his hands traveled up your sides and reached around to knead at your breasts. He fucking loved your tits. He would definitely have them in his mouth before the night was over. You whimpered when he lightly pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

The eye contact he maintained even as you fucked yourself on his tongue was going straight to your pussy and he grunted against you when you clenched. Even though you wanted him to keep playing with your chest, he quickly reached back to your hips and gave a firm squeeze as he guided you back down his face just enough for him to once more latch onto your clit. He could tell you were getting close and he was determined to finish you off.

He gave one final harsh suck and your body began to shake as molten lava filled your veins. “Bin- oh fuck-” You cried out, doubling over slightly with the force of your orgasm. Your grip on his hair grew tighter and he moaned into your cunt at the delicious pain as he continued to suck and lick, helping you ride it out while you had his head trapped against the bed - which he loved.

When you finally stopped trembling, he helped you lift yourself off his face and you immediately collapsed on the sheets with a lazy smile. “I’m never gonna get tired of that.” You teased as you fought to catch your breath, watching him stand from the bed.

“You better not because I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m gonna ask for every year now.” He grinned at you as he unbuttoned his unreasonably tight jeans. You internally lamented the loss of the visual of his cock straining against the light denim but your mouth watered as he stripped them off along with his briefs. “That was fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” You hummed as you got up and sank to your knees in front of him. “As hot as when I choke on your cock?” You looked up at him innocently and batted your lashes before leaning forwards to press a kiss just below his belly button as you wrapped your hand around his dick. “Let me return the favor, baby.” You mumbled against his skin, feeling him twitch in your hand.

“You still have three hours left in your birthday. Let’s spend the whole time celebrating.” You grinned up at him before opening your mouth for him to use you however he pleased. It was his special day after all.

#kpop smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids changbin #changbin #changbin smut #stray kids seo changbin #seo changbin #seo changbin smut #kinktober #alura’s works

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pleasantspark · 6 months ago

Text

HH/HB Server gets mad at me for making Pentious Tan

I wanted to share Non-Pale. Tan Pentious edit and got dogpiled almost immediately.

Color Coded so people can't complain FAKE FAKE FAKE. The server is not going to be named as it's a pretty big server filled with minors and if you know which server it is, DON'T say it.

People in there are children and I do NOT want anyone getting harassed, this is just another example of people assigning intent. The only party that's uncensored is me.

Color Codes !!

Blue - Discord Friend Yellow - Someone with common sense. Black - Don't like these people Magneta - Someone not involved. Purple - Actual On Duty Mod. Light Green - Unsure if they are on my side or what Red - Person who said something uncomfortable to me.

I sent the render after completing it and using a BG Removal AI Tool to make it a render for my new wallpaper as I am taking Pentious and using him as my own.

People began to point out the "issue"

ID: Sir Pentious PFP with a trans masc flag on the outer ring named "Saint Pentious's Wife" with a small emoji of Vox and a leaf on discord next to it posted Today at 5:57 AM with the caption of "Is this render okay?" attached is a Sir Pentious image but of human and he's completely tanned.

Black #1 replied "He's a lot paler than that" and blue replies to black #1 with "mhh"

Saint Pentious's Wife forwards a earlier message from Purple stating "It's their headcanon" Black #1 said "Well if it's your head cannon that it's a good render then there you go"

Black #2 responds with an image definition of Headcanon which is:

Headcanon is a word used in film/television/comics/etc. fandom that refers to something a fan imagines about the characters (such as a scenario or relationship) but that doesn't appear on screen/on the page.

End ID

After I posted the image more people started being "jokey" which is impossible to tell and most of these people see others using tone tags. They were trying to make me feel bad about what I did. Labeling as racism and the such. I highlighted a few points that stand out.

ID: Saint Repentious's Wife was responding to Black #2 asking about what they should color Adam. "Yes"

Black #2 proceeded to send "?" as a response.

Another person, Black #3 responded to the intial post with a caption reading "Bro blackwashed him" and attached is the original concept of Sir Pentious.

I respond with something logical: "Why are Y'all being weird about it, I just made him tan. He's tan."

Black #3 responded. "But he's pale" and responded in regards to Alastor. "I also noticed that Alastor is still black in his demon form."

I responded. "You think all Londions are pale?"

Black #3 responds to Black #2 "With Adam's colors."

I proceeded to send:

"Thats kinda oddly weird. Like, why do you care what I do, it's not like he's being erased fully. He's still white but tan. Accusing me of racism is wildly crazy and makes me uncomfortable. Please stop it."

END ID.

I sent an image of the color wheel to showcase how pale he is. People still doesn't care.

ID: I sent a image of a hex code website with the hex code being displayed as #EFDFD8 and a caption reading: "This is where he is on the Color Wheel"

Black #??? responded: "He was white though"

I responded: "Why is everyone questioning people on redesigns?"

Red chimes in: "idk whats wrong with being pale"

I responded: "He's from London, not all Londonians are PALE."

Black #??? responded to Red: "Racism." With a blue shocked emoji.

I responded once again: "Nearly all of Viv's Characters are Pale. Imagine saying someone's racist just for making a character slightly tan thats crazy"

END ID

A little info on Red, they have numerous times made me uncomfortable, even after I told them to stop, they did not make the effort to apologize or even backtrack, even with Black #4 not taking it seriously. One of the rules in the server is not to make anyone uncomfortable specifically in regards to questions but also had a rule to be nice to everyone.

Red responds to a Vox PFP (Offscreen) with the caption "OVER FIVE YEARS?"

I responded to the conversation: "I fw Pilot Husk's design. I was a fan since the Pilot ages (Al's design more specifically.)" Beforehand Red also tried to make me feel weird for selfshipping with Husk by saying "He's a cat bro." yeah, and? People simp for Loona the same.

Black #4 responded to my uncomfortableness to Red with a skull emoji.

I responded: ":/ What? Personal trigger of mine, is that wrong of me to wish for people to not say that?"

Red once again doesn't take it seriously and tries to paint it as a light ribbing by saying: "it was sarcasm lil bro do u think im a perv or sum."

I responded: "Please don't call me Lil Bro, also, I dont understand tones. You're talking to someone who has Autism."

Red says: "sorry ma am" which isn't sincere in my eyes.

I correct them "*sir."

Red responds: "what.."

END ID

I clarified to Red on my correction and they were confused because of my name, when my pfp states my pronouns which were Ze/Zir/It/Its which should atleast give them the idea that I wasn't a ma'am.

ID: I responded to Red saying "I'm saying I'm a male? Not ma'am."

Red responded: "but but you ur display name nvm"

I responded: "Malwife doesn't fit" with a sobbing emoji after this.

END ID

I responded to Red on them calling me Lil Bro, as I am a full 20 years old, I don't care if its slang but I don't know you and if you call me Lil Bro, Sis, Hun then fuck off. I told them MULTIPLE times now, and they refused to, once again this server mentions you to NOT make people uncomfortable. This is where they made a "Joke" to my hard drive which has files of my Artwork and DBZ stuff. I'm a CSA survivor. You SHOULDN'T make those kinds of jokes to ANYONE especially IF they just joined the server.

ID: I responded to an offscreen ask by Red: "Sadly gtg trying to recover my corrupted hard drive with my DBZ stuff"

Red went out of left field with this "joke" which they could have NOT said: "ok dont drop the soap"

I responded: "Dont say that please."

Red didn't apologize but said: "ok."

END ID

This is the last image, basically, this STILL became an issue. Mod didn't try and scroll up. And I don't even care. Here's the final fuckfest that made me consider actually killing myself from the stress.

ID: Black #??? replies to me in regards to my offense on the term racism being thrown around as: "I was kidding bru don't take it personally"

Mod responds to my londons not being pale comment with: "in the 1800s before immigration was a thing (THIS ISN'T BEING RACIST) they would have all been really white"

I responded: "Yeah, I really wanted to make him tan"

Green chimed in: "There's a difference between Brown and grey"

Yellow responded: "It's just a headcanon stop being weird"

Mod responded to my tan comment: "Yeah that's fine like ur headcanon do what u want i was just saying information about 1800s uk."

Yellow comments on the double standards: "People in the 1800s also didn't know how to build laver death machines but y'all draw the line at a bit of Melanin."

Magneta replies to my earlier question about how they separates vocals: "weights al has a feature where it splits the vocals and music"

I responded: "I dunno man, people keep on jumping on people who does this, and it makes me anxious I am just doing something fun. I'm sorry for making a character slightly darker But a lot of people here have oddly said some really weird things to me like the whole "hope you don't drop the soap" I shouldn't have to say why that makes me uncomfortable due to personal reasons."

Mod replies to Yellow in regards to their excellent point: "Tesia was close enough"

Then Mod responded to me: "Ur drawings fine ignore people saying that"

END ID

I am aware that these people might be minors, but like WHAT THE FUCK? No ONE is this level of pale, I mean it's POSSIBLE but like NOT to the level of Sir Pentious. Also, if someone tells you to stop you do it, you don't continue with a joke.

This is literally making me want to kill myself. I like to thank Blue and Yellow for trying atleast. Sir Pentious was more Tan, he wasn't black or anything he was just more tan. It makes more sense then pale sheet white as snow template base that the fandom designs have.

I just am going thru alot so if I don't respond I did it.

I'm sorry.

(If I am still here, that means I apssed out, I am too depressed, peroiod ridden and sleep deprived.)

#hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique

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