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hoshifighting · 6 months ago

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bsf!seungcheol watching you ride a dildo

— where your bestfriend!seungcheol wants his shirt back, but he searches for it inside the wrong drawer.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, sex toys, ''cock'' riding, clit stimulation, lub, voyeurism?, fingering, penetrative sex, reader feels the ''real thing'' after, dildo sucking, dirty talk, choking, overwhelming.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“yo, y/n, where’s that shirt i left at yours the other day? the black one, with the holes,” seungcheol’s voice booms from your bedroom, and you can hear him already rummaging through your wardrobe like it’s his own. typical. you’re still in the bathroom, pulling a shirt over your head, eyes rolling at how this guy feels so at home in your space, no hesitation.

“it’s in the drawer, you dumbass,” you yell back, adjusting your shirt in the mirror, not giving it a second thought.

and then it hits you.

oh fuck. that drawer. the one you’ve recently swapped out for all your, uh, extra stuff. your eyes widen, and a bolt of panic shoots through your veins. not the t-shirts and gym clothes drawer anymore, no—your sex drawer now, fully stocked and thriving.

you bolt out of the bathroom, hair still a mess, nearly tripping over your own feet, “seungcheol, no! wait—”

too late. he’s standing there, drawer halfway open, a look of pure shock frozen on his face. it’s like time slows down and you can almost hear the dramatic, “dun-dun-dunnnn” playing in the background as his eyes lock on something you really didn’t want him to see.

the dildo. baby pink. glittery. silicone, with a ridiculously realistic head.

“what... the… fuck,” he mumbles, staring at it like it’s an alien. his hand’s on the drawer handle, and he’s so still, like he can’t quite process what’s in front of him. if it was just the lube, or even the handcuffs, maybe you could’ve salvaged this situation. maybe. but nope, he’s standing there like he’s seen the holy grail, except it’s your new glitter dildo, glistening under the light like a perverse disco ball.

you skid to a stop, face burning up. “cheol, no—don't—” but he’s already got it in his hand, holding it up like it’s some kind of trophy. a fucking trophy.

he gives it a little shake, slapping it against his palm with a dumb grin. “y/n… never pegged you for a glitter girl. this—” he waves it around, the thing jiggling like some obscene party favor. “—is this what you’re into now? pink, sparkly dicks?”

you slap your hand over your face, mortified, “it’s new! i—it’s not even—i haven’t—just give it back, jesus christ!”

but he’s inspecting it now, like he’s doing some kind of in-depth analysis. his eyebrows raise, and he looks from it to you, back to it. “it’s not that big, though, right? not thicker than me, at least.” he looks way too smug for your liking, like he’s just cracked some inside joke.

“cheol!” you squeal, lunging forward to grab it, but he pulls it out of reach, shaking his head like you’re a kid trying to snatch candy from a shelf.

“nah, nah,” he chuckles, “hold up, hold up. i just… i just didn’t expect this from you. like, c’mon, this? you could’ve called me. i would’ve come running, y’know. no need to settle for this sparkly piece of shit.”

you’re fully red now, your fingers gripping his forearm as you try and close the drawer with your hip, but he keeps it open, the dildo still in his grip. “cheol, i swear to god, give it back.”

he twirls it like it’s a damn baton, slapping it lightly against his hand again. “so, like... is it better than the real thing? huh?”

“no, oh my god, no! i haven’t even—just—shut up!” you try again to snatch it back, but he’s stronger than you and absolutely milking this moment.

“mmm,” he hums, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s deep in thought, “i bet you’ve been riding this thing at night, hm? fuckin’ bouncing on it, lights out, all alone in this big-ass bed…” his words trail off, teasing, and you want to crawl into a hole and die, right there.

“cheol, stop, i’m not—i haven’t even used it yet, okay?” you sputter, still trying to grab it, but your words only seem to encourage him.

“oh? you haven’t? huh… well,” he holds it up, wiggling it under the light, “why don’t you show me how you would? like, y’know, ride it for me.” the way he says it, dead serious, makes you stop. his voice drops lower, and suddenly the room feels hotter. “c’mon, y/n. don’t be shy. give me a little demo.”

“cheol, stop it. i’m already embarrassed enough,” you say, feeling your breath catch in your throat. your cheeks burn. he just grins, settling back into the chair at your vanity, his eyes practically glinting.

“don’t be shy now,” he says, but you can hear the tease dripping from every word. his back rests against the wall, arms lazily crossed, as if he’s got all the time in the world to watch you squirm. you can’t even deny the flutter of heat that’s been coiling inside you since this whole thing started.

you let out a shaky breath, reaching for the lube, the sound of the cap clicking open feeling way too loud in the stillness of the room. you get on your knees, your fingers tremble as you coat the bottom of the dildo with it, sticking it to the floor, the suction strong as it holds in place. every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of his eyes on you. watching. waiting.

you slowly tug down your shorts and panties, trying to shield yourself as much as possible, your oversized shirt covering your lower half. it’s stupid to feel shy now, considering what you’re about to do, but you still shake your head when he says, “take that shirt off too.”

“n-no,” you stutter, cheeks flushing. you glance at him through your lashes as you start to spread the lube on the dildo, your hand sliding up and down, coating it thoroughly. the way you grip it, the slow strokes—it’s almost automatic, the sight of it in your hand makes his jaw clench, and you can practically hear his breath catch.

he shifts in his seat, eyes glued to the movement of your hand. he swallows thickly, his gaze darkening, and you can see the tension building in his body. it’s not just teasing anymore—he’s feeling this, just as much as you are.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes not leaving the way your hand moves, the way the lube makes the dildo glisten. for a split second, it’s like he can’t even blink, like if he does, he might miss something.

you feel your body flush even more, and you bite your lip as you spread your legs slightly, reaching down with your lubed-up fingers to ease yourself open. “look away for a sec,” you mumble.

he scoffs, eyes narrowing, but he closes them. still, you know better than to think he’s not peeking—there’s no way he’s fully shutting you out. and sure enough, you catch him with one eye cracked open, watching, his arms crossed over his chest trying to look calm and shit, but his body clearly stiffen up. the slick sounds of your fingers working you open fill the air, and you can’t help the small whimpers that escape your lips. each one seems to hit him like a punch, his eyes flickering, the sound driving him crazy.

you can feel your own wetness mixing with the lube as you stretch yourself, prepping so you can sit on it. your breath hitches as you pull your hand away, finally sitting back up on your knees. “i’m gonna… i’m sliding on it now,” you whisper, like saying it aloud makes it even more real.

his—both—eyes snap open at that, and he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring hard. “yeah? let me see,” oh, he had his soothed voice, and you can feel the his gaze on you.

your body trembles as you line yourself up, one hand braced on the floor in front of you for support as the other lined the toy. the first contact makes you bite your bottom lip, your pussy lips parting as you sink down, the head of the dildo stretching you slowly. you let out a soft moan, your body reacting to the stretch, the feel of the silicone sliding inside.

“shit,” you breathe out, your head falling forward as you lower yourself further, taking more of it in—the cool, smooth silicone pushing into you, the lube making everything slick and easy. the way it presses against your inner walls has you clenching around it, your muscles pulsing as you adjust.

you can feel seungcheol’s eyes on you, locked onto the way your body reacts, the small tremors running through you. his fingers twitch, his hands squeezing each other so tightly you swear his knuckles are turning almost purple.

he’s almost breathless from just watching. you feel so full, the stretch making your hips shake as you rock slightly, sliding the dildo deeper inside. the pressure builds as your pussy hugs the toy, the texture of it rubbing against you in all the right places.

your shirt brushes against the floor as you lean forward, hips grinding down, taking the dildo all the way in. your hand clutches the floor for balance, the other gripping your thigh as you start to move, slowly at first, testing how much you can take. each slide has you gasping, your wetness mixing with the lube, creating obscene, slick sounds that echo through the room.

seungcheol’s eyes are practically burning holes into you, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants. you can feel his tension, his need to see everything, to watch every reaction, every twitch of your body as you ride the dildo.

“c’mon… let me see your face, baby,” he sulks in a greedy way.

but you shake your head again, hiding behind your hair, your chest heaving as the pleasure builds, too shy to meet his gaze. your pussy tightens around the toy as you rock your hips, the friction making your thighs shake, your moans escaping louder now, uncontrollable.

he leans in even closer, eyes dark and heavy, and it feels like he’s about to explode just from watching. his voice drops, “take that shirt off.”

“cheollie…” your voice cracks, finally looking at him for the first time since you started riding the toy. the moment your eyes meet his, the intensity nearly floors you. he’s been watching you with such focus, so goddamn turned on, and you can see it all over his face—his chest heaving, his lips slightly parted, the eyebrows knit together.

he’s so still for a second, but his eyes flick down to where the toy disappears inside you, watching how your pussy swallows the dildo, and it’s like he can’t hold it in anymore. “lift it up a little, just a little,” he says.

with a shaky breath, you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, pulling it up until it rests just under your belly button, feeling the cool air against your sopping cunt. the moment he sees you fully exposed, he lets out a low groan, like he’s moaning right along with you. his eyes are glued to the way your body moves, the way your slick drips down onto the floor as you rock your hips harder.

“fuck, you’re dripping all over,” he mutters, his eyes flicking between your face and the obscene sight below you. you’re too overwhelmed to even process the words fully, but when you feel his gaze lingering a bit too much, like he’s inspecting every little detail, you can’t help but try to hide again.

you quickly cover yourself with your hand, right over your clit, your other hand flying to the floor to support yourself as your head falls back, mouth open as a loud moan escapes. it’s getting too good now, the way the toy presses up against your walls.

you circle your clit with the hand covering you, the added stimulation making your moans uncontrollable, rolling your hips harder and faster on the dildo. “fuck, cheol… oh my god…” your voice is all breathy and desperate, and you can feel his eyes on you, burning, drinking in every reaction.

he leans forward again, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. “does it feel good, baby? look at you, fucking yourself like that. is it really better than the real thing?”

you shake your head, gasping for air, unable to form any real words as your hips move on their own, chasing the high that’s building. his voice is like gasoline on a fire, making everything burn hotter, the pleasure consuming you. you can't even look him in the eye, too mortified by how good this feels, by how badly you want more, maybe how badly you want... him?

“ride it like it’s me,” he rasps, and you almost choke on your own breath at the words. “pretend it’s my cock you’re bouncing on. ride it like you’d ride me.”

your whole body freezes for a second, the words sinking in, and your mind spins, caught between the fantasy and the reality of what’s happening. the thought of him, of riding him instead of the toy—it makes you instantly clench around the soft silicone.

you breathe in sharply, your chest heaving as you press your hand back on the floor, leaning forward. the angle change gives him the perfect view, your ass sticking out behind you, uncovered, as you start to bounce on the dildo, your knees moving in and out as you grind down harder. your moans grow louder, more desperate.

he groans softly, watching the way your body moves, the way you tremble and gasp. “shit, look at you… would you ride me like that?” his voice is so velvety. and its doing things to you. “would you moan even louder for me?”

the thought of it, of him underneath you, of riding him instead, has you spiraling. your mind can’t shake the image of his cock inside you, of bouncing on him just like this. the fantasy is too vivid, too real, and your body reacts before you can stop it. your hips slam down onto the toy harder, your moans growing higher in pitch, louder, uncontrollable.

he bites his lip, his eyes locked on the way you grind down on the dildo. his hand slides inside his sweatpants, gripping his cock, stroking himself in time with your movements, his breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants.

“fuck, you’d feel so good on me,” he groans, his hand moving faster as he strokes himself. “i bet you’d be so tight, so wet for me. you’re already dripping everywhere, baby… fuck, just thinking about it is making me lose it.”

you’re barely coherent at this point, your mind clouded by the sound of his voice, by the way the toy stretches you just right. the wet sounds of your pussy sliding up and down the dildo fill the room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“cheol… i’m… i’m so close,” you manage to gasp out, your body trembling as you push yourself closer to the edge.

his eyes darken even more, his jaw clenched tight. “yeah? gonna cum for me?” his voice is strained.

he moves before you can even catch your breath, standing up from the chair, your hips still working on the dildo, but now, sitting straight again, and you can barely focus as he steps closer, towering over you even as he kneels down, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly.

“cheol, i—” you don’t even get the chance to finish before his hands push you down, forcing your body to slide deeper onto the dildo. you gasp, eyes widening as the toy sinks so deep inside you that it steals the air from your lungs, making you feel it so deep inside you. your hands fly to his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as you tremble against him, the fullness making it impossible to move.

your head falls forward onto his chest, whimpering as your body starts to shake. the pressure is unbearable, the dildo pressing so deep inside you that it makes your whole body seize up. and then he presses you down even further, his hands now gripping your hips, pushing you until the toy is buried to the hilt, the balls of the toy pressed on your clit, you lose it.

“CHEOL! i’m—oh my go-o-d,” you cry out, your whole body convulsing as your orgasm hits, this one even harder than any other. your hands claw at his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as you cum, trembling uncontrollably. you can’t think, can’t breathe, and he holds you through it, keeping you pinned down, making sure you feel every second of it.

he doesn’t say a word, just watches you with that hungry look in his eyes, his hands never leaving your hips as your body shakes against him.

the pleasure finally start to ebb, and you’re left panting, your body slumping against him, completely spent.

he lifts your face gently, his fingers under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “look at me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your lips, and before you can react, he’s kissing you, desperate, all tongues and messy breaths. the taste of him fills your senses, his lips devouring yours, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face.

the kiss is all heat, your head spinning as you melt into him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue tangles with yours. he pulls away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. “you’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

you can barely respond, still lost in the fog, but then he’s pulling you up, guiding you to the edge of the bed. your knees hit the floor as he bends you over the corner, your chest pressed into the mattress, and you can feel him behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself.

“can i baby? can i?” he growls, and you nod weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you brace yourself. he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, and the second he starts to push inside, you gasp, your hands clutching at the sheets. he’s so much thicker than the toy, so much warmer, so much real.

“fuck, cheol… it’s so… so big,” you moan, your voice shaky, and he chuckles darkly, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushes deeper.

“you can take it, pretty,” he mutters, his voice strained. “look at how well you’re taking me already, fuck… you’re so wet. such a perfect pussy,”

you can feel every inch of him, the way he pushes you open, the heat of his cock filling you in a way that’s completely different from the toy. the fullness making your head spin, but it feels so fucking good at the same time.

he starts to move, slow at first, letting you adjust to the thickness of him, but soon he’s fucking you harder, each thrust making your body yank forward, your moans getting louder with every snap of his hips.

and then he reaches behind him, grabbing the dildo, and you feel his hand slide around to your face. “open your mouth,” he orders, and you obey, your lips parting as he presses the toy against them. “suck on it.”

you moan around the toy as he slides it into your mouth, the taste of the lube mixed with your own slick coating your tongue. the act of it is so filthy, so wrong, but it turns you on even more, the feeling of his cock fucking you from behind while you suck on the dildo making your whole body burn.

“that’s it, baby, just like that,” he groans, his voice thick with lust. “fuck, you’re so fucking hot… i can’t believe how good you look right now, sucking on that while i fuck you.”

your eyes roll back as he fucks you harder, the sound of your moans muffled by the toy in your mouth. the way he’s talking to you, the dirty words spilling from his lips, makes your whole body tingle with arousal.

“you like this, huh? you like being fucked like this?” he growls, his pace quickening, his cock slamming into you with each thrust. “i bet you’d love to have my cock in your mouth instead, wouldn’t you? bet you’d choke on it, make those pretty little sounds for me.”

you whimper around the dildo, nodding weakly, your body shaking with pleasure as he fucks you harder, deeper. the pressure is building again, that familiar heat pooling in your core, and you know you’re close, so fucking close.

“gonna cum again, huh?” he grunts, his voice tight. “fuck, i can feel it. you’re so close, baby. just let go. let go f'me...”

your body spasms violently, and you barely register the way your throat tightens around the dildo as he pushes it deeper. for a moment, everything goes hazy—your head spinning from the overstimulation, your knees shaking beneath you. the sensation of being so full, of having him inside you while the dildo stretches your throat, sends you into a dizzying spiral, leaving you shaking.

your face falls onto the mattress, your body too weak to hold you up anymore. you can feel him pulling out of you, the sudden emptiness making you shiver, and then he moans—and you hear the sound of his cum, warm and wet against the floor.

he pulls the dildo from your mouth, and you gasp for air, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. your throat feels raw, hoarse from the way you had been gagging around the toy, but you can’t even focus on that, still reeling from the power of your orgasm. your throat burning from how deep the dildo had gone.

he’s still kneeling behind you, his hands resting on your hips as he leans forward, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “you’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs. “you should’ve seen yourself, baby. you looked so fucking good riding that dildo like that... i cant wait to see you riding me, real, real.”

you shudder at his words, a faint whimper escaping your lips. your body is still trembling, you feel weak and shaky, but the way he’s talking to you—so dirty—it makes your head spin all over again. his hands sliding up your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, his hands sliding down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “i want you to be that horny for me all the time. i want you to think about this every time you touch yourself from now on.”

you groan, burying your face deeper into the mattress, your heart pounding in your chest. he pulls back slightly, his fingers gently tugging at your hair until you turn your head to look up at him. you close your eyes, your breath still coming in shallow gasps as you try to calm down.

“cheol…” you whisper, your voice hoarse, “i don’t… i don’t think i can move…”

he chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “you don’t have to move, baby,” he says, his voice gentle now, softer than before. “just relax. you did so good for me… just rest.”

you nod weakly, him putting you fully on the bed so you can lay fully, your body sinking into the mattress.

“you okay?” he asks quietly after a few minutes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you nod again, your voice barely above a whisper. “yeah… just… tired.”

he smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “good. you deserve to rest after that.” he stays close, his warmth comforting against your skin, and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your forehead. it feels so fucking good. and you know, deep down, that this won’t be the last time something like this happens.

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daryltwdixon · 2 days ago

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Do It For Dale

I do it for my daddy and I do it for Dale I'm doing what I want and, damn, I'm doing it well

Summary: As Sarah’s best friend, you’re determined to give her the perfect 21st birthday—even if it means going behind her grumpy old dad’s back. But when the night spirals and you end up stranded, you’re forced to call the last person you want to face. And once Sarah is asleep, he shows you exactly what happens to girls who misbehave. || smut MDNI 18+, cheerleader!reader, bratty!reader, overprotective!joel, grumpy!joel, sarah's best friend!reader, sbf!reader, bfd!joel, wtf are these acronyms my god, college au, brattamer!joel, no outbreak, pinv, reader is on birth control, blowjob, f!receiving oral, no use of y/n, riding, dirty talk, tiny bit of degradation but also praise kink, spanking, big girthy age gap reader is 21+|| Inspired by Ethel Cain's American Teenager. "Do it for Dale" is a saying in memory of the nascar driver dale earnhardt who was known for his risky driving. basically 'take risks, make dale proud" the southern version of ‘you only live once’ >> thank you to my angels @dixonsdarkelf & @dixons-sunshine for looking this over / beta reading when it was just mere scraps on a page and giving me the confidence to keep going!!

“I don’t care what your dad says,” you snap, wedging your phone between your shoulder and ear as you bend to tie your pristine white sneakers. The laces cinch in your fingers with the kind of practiced precision that only comes from years of repetition—pure muscle memory.

The locker room is chaos. There are voices shouting across aisles, lockers slamming, pom poms rustling like restless birds. The low thump of stadium bass rattles up through the concrete floor, humming in your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s electric.

On the other end of the line, the voice is borderline panicked. “I’m serious—he said no going out. Just the two of us, nice dinner, low-key—”

“Sarah.” You switch the phone to your other ear, and tug a stray piece of hair back into place as you catch your reflection in the mirror screwed to your locker. “You’re turning twenty-one. Twenty. One. That’s the last birthday that matters until you hit, like, fifty and buy a boat.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mutters. “You don’t have Joel Miller for a father.”

You grin. “No, but I know him. Man’s all bark and no fun. Somebody needs to shake the dust off him.”

“Oh god,” she groans, “he’s coming to the game, by the way. So whatever you’re planning? Don’t make it weird.”

“Please.” You dig through your duffel for your lipstick. “Give me two minutes, and he’ll be begging to let you out of the house.”

“That sounded disgusting. Never say my dad and ‘begging’ in the same sentence again.”

You laugh as you swipe the red across your lips, smooth and practiced. In the background, Coach Peña barrels through the locker room doors like a storm system, barking out the countdown to kickoff. The girls start filing out around you, all pep and nerves.

“I gotta go,” you say, “Coach is foaming at the mouth.”

“Fine. Just don’t get me grounded before the third quarter.”

“No promises. Love you, mean it, bye.”

You toss your phone into your bag, zip it shut like sealing a vault, and pause for one last look in the mirror. Bright smile, flushed cheeks, and candy-glossed red lips. The kind of lashes that get you out of tickets. The kind of uniform that falls somewhere between school pride and a pin-up calendar hanging in a mechanic’s break room.

You lean closer to fix a clump of mascara and rub a smudge of red off your tooth. That smile curls back again—not the sweet one from halftime routines, but the other one. The one that gets you into trouble.

Then you grab your pom poms, swing your locker shut, and strut out of the locker room with the confidence that gets you into bars for free and banned from Student Council meetings.

Game on.

The air is electric—crisp with that first snap of fall, leaves crunching under boots in the parking lot, the smell of cheap beer and burnt hot dogs drifting in from the tailgaters who’ve been posted up since noon. The stadium’s packed, a blur of school colors and screaming faces, everyone high on spirit and spite and way too much booze and energy drinks. There’s nothing quite like the high of a homecoming game.

If this wasn’t American football, you’d swear the crowd was here for blood.

You kick your leg up high, pom poms shaking like fireworks in your hands, your grin sharp enough to slice through the October air. Your thighs burn with the repetition, but you don’t stop. You feed off of this: the roar, the stomping feet, the chanting, the band playing at volume in the field behind you. It’s chaos, it’s magic, it’s everything.

You spin into another high kick as the running back punches into the end zone, and the crowd erupts. Your ponytail bounces, your lipstick still flawless despite the sweat, the screaming, the adrenaline thundering through your veins like rocket fuel.

This is what you live for.

You cartwheel, hands and pom poms catching the ground before your squad forms into a pyramid with practiced ease, launching into a cheer that gets the whole section yelling along.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Sarah posted up in the stands—her dark hair pulled up with school-colored ribbons woven in, ends tied off in bows like she just walked out of a Pinterest board. And next to her, arms crossed and jaw set in his signature I hate fun expression, is the man you plan to convince to let his perfect Honor Society daughter get blackout drunk tonight: Mr. Miller.

Flannel. Scowl. Zero sense of humor.

As if he can feel your stare from the top of the pyramid formation, his eyes flick from the players taking a timeout on the field—to you.

Even from this far away, you can see the way his brow furrows just a little deeper, the lines on his face etching like fault lines, like he can read every debaucherous plan in your head about tonight.

And it only makes your grin widen.

After your halftime performance—which included you seeing your entire life flash before your eyes when Ryan, one of your catchers, stumbled as you came flying down from a basket toss—you found Sarah at the bottom of the bleachers, about to head back up with a charred hot dog in one hand and a Gatorade in the other.

One second, you were airborne under the stadium lights, all grace and clean lines, the crowd roaring like they’d never seen a cheer squad stick a toss before. The next, you were dropping way too fast, Ryan’s hands scrambling to catch your left leg as the whole formation wobbled.

You landed hard, your shoulder slamming into someone’s chest, your breath punching out in a sound that definitely wasn’t choreographed. Half the squad gasped. The other half kept smiling. Coach screamed something incoherent from the sideline.

But you popped right back up, beamed like you hadn’t just bruised half your spine, and finished the routine.

Showbiz, baby.

“Hey!” Sarah calls when she spots you weaving through the crowd. “I seriously thought you died when Ryan almost dropped you.”

Her face is twisted in a full-body cringe as she looks you over, like she’s checking for bruises.

You swipe some sweat off your brow with the back of your hand, catching your breath as you lean against the metal railing. “Tell me about it. If he thinks he’s copying my chem homework next week, he’s got another thing comin’.”

She snorts. “He hasn’t passed a test since freshman year.”

“Exactly. He’s one C-minus away from being kicked off the team,” you grimace, then lean in a little on the railing with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Though I heard he and a bunch of the guys are hitting up The Tipsy Bison later. I know it’s a dump, but the drinks are cheap and the bartenders don’t card if you tip them, like, a couple bucks and wink. We’d only need to wait it out til midnight anyway since–”

“Uh-huh,” Sarah says, but her eyes are already shifting—because someone else is approaching.

“Evenin’.” A low voice cuts in from your left, and the air instantly shifts.

You look in the direction of the voice, and there he is. Joel Miller, in all his glory. Holding a hot dog and Miller Lite (ironic that the man likes his own namesake beer, no?), wearing that same dark green plaid he probably wore to every barbecue and grocery run. His expression is set in granite. The man looked like he hadn’t smiled since the Bush administration and he was damn proud of it.

“Enjoyin’ the game, Mr. Miller?” you smile sweet as can be up at him. The breeze shifts, carrying the scent of his cologne—all woodsy and dark. There’s something you can’t place but hate how much you like.

He grunts, then looks at his daughter, “You ready?”

“So–” you cut in quickly as she nods, ready to turn around and head back to their seats, “word on the street is Sarah’s got a very important birthday tonight. Twenty-one’s a big deal. Life-changing, even. Seems like something worth, I don’t know… celebrating?”

“She’s not going out to your Tipsy Bison bullshit,” he said flatly.

So he had heard everything.

“Not even for one little drink?” you asked, eyebrows raised in mock innocence, “C’mon. She’s practically a senior citizen in college years. You gonna keep her locked in the tower forever, or what?”

“She’s got class Monday.”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to sound like a co-conspirator. “Good thing it’s Saturday.”

Still nothing. His silence is like a damn wall. An unreadable, infuriating, weirdly attractive wall.

You blinked up at him, mock-offended. “Wow. You really need to get laid, don’t you?”

That earned you a shift—a quick flick of his eyes in your direction, sharp and unreadable, his jaw tightening, but still not a word.

Joel Miller, the human embodiment of a steel door.

You smirked. “Ooh, that bad, huh?”

From a few steps above, moving out of the way like a storm was brewing between the two of you, Sarah groaned. “Dad, please don’t murder my friends!”

You took a step back, throwing both hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d ask. Y’know, on behalf of your adult daughter.”

Joel turned away, back up the bleachers, “Get back to your little song and dance, kid.”

And that was that. You watched his back for a second longer, half amused, half intrigued. Then you looked up at Sarah and surprised her with a grin as her dad began ascending the stairs.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

You didn’t bother texting first. Sarah would’ve found some way to talk you out of it, knowing her.

Still in your uniform, though the pom poms had long ditched, lipstick a little faded but your confidence entirely intact, you march right up the Miller porch and rap your knuckles against the tall wooden door.

It only takes a few seconds before it swings open.

Joel stands there, beer in one hand, jaw already clenched like you’d personally ruined his evening by breathing on his welcome mat. His eyes take their time sweeping over you—legs bare, cheeks flushed from the walk over, school jacket slung over your arm. By the time they land back on your face with that signature glare, there’s a smile on your lips.

“The hell you doin’ here, kid?”

Your grin widens, sweet as sugar, “Evenin’ to you too, Mr. Miller.”

He barely even blinks.

You shift your weight onto one hip, the skirt of your uniform shifting across your thighs. “Thought I’d come talk to you again. Woman to man.”

He exhales hard through his nose. “’Bout what, exactly?”

“You know what,” you say, rolling your eyes, “It’s your daughter’s birthday. I just want to take her out for one drink!”

“She ain’t goin’.”

“Ya know, Mr. Miller,” you say, eyes dancing as you lean in a little closer, voice syrupy, “if you’re gonna make me beg, the least you could do is pull my hair while you’re at it.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes, dark and dangerous as his lip curls up, his figure stepping close enough to cast a shadow over you. You hold your ground, grin tugging at the corners of your mouth, daring him to snap, to rise to it.

Just as he opens his mouth to retort, you hear footsteps on the stairs.

“Oh my god,” Sarah says, voice full of disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

Joel‘s eyes are still on you, but as if remembering himself, he scoffs, stepping aside just enough for her to poke her head out from over his shoulder. As you pull yourself on your tip toes to look over him, you see Sarah— hair still tied up in those bows, though they’ve fallen since you last saw her. Her brown eyes are wide as she takes in both of you standing together.

You lift your hand in a casual wave. “Told you I’d try. But your dad’s playing medieval warden again.”

Sarah groans, coming down a few steps. “Daaad…”

You raise a hand, cutting her off before she can jump in too. “Don’t worry, I had a feelin’ he’d be like this.” You reach into the bag slung over your shoulder and pull out a DVD, holding it up like a peace offering. She’s The Man. “If we can’t go out, we’re celebrating in. I at least want my best friend to enjoy her goddamn birthday.”

Joel��s eyes narrow. “You’re stayin’?”

You shrug. “Unless you’re plannin’ to physically remove me—yeah.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t stop you, either. He just stands there, glaring, as Sarah appears beside him and grabs your hand to pull you inside. The two of you are already halfway up the stairs by the time he can manage to take a breath.

You glance back at him just before turning the corner. He’s still standing in the doorway, muttering something under his breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck like you’ve given him a migraine in the span of two minutes.

“Don’t wait up, Mr. Miller,” you call with a grin.

He shuts the door with more force than necessary, and you swear you can hear him muttering as he takes a sip of his beer, something like, “Goddamn pain in my ass.”

You follow Sarah into her room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click as she drops onto her bed in a dramatic sprawl.

Your eyes scan the familiar space. The twin bed, with its purple-and-gray comforter, is pushed into the corner, the lineup of band posters curling at the corners on the walls. The old photo of her and her dad at a soccer match she won a trophy for with her team is still taped above the lamp.

“So,” you start, turning the lock.

Sarah immediately sits up, eyes narrowing. “No. Nope. What are you up to?”

“What?” you say, all wide-eyed innocence.

She points at you like she’s caught you red-handed. “That face. I know that face. You’re scheming.”

“Of course I’m scheming,” you say, manicured nails finding your hips once you drop your bag down. “Sarah, you’re twenty-one. You only turn twenty-one once, and you wanna spend it… what? Watching She’s the Man and ordering pizza?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say that.”

She groans. “I don’t know…”

“Look—we’ll watch the movie I brought, play it chill for now, and then once the old man crashes on the couch like he always does—boom. We’re out. You’re putting on your hottest jeans, I brought you Jason’s football jersey—”

“Why do I need a jersey?”

“Half-off beer for anyone wearing school colors,” you say, like it's obvious, “God, do you ever go out?”

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead, “you really planned this all out.”

“Correct,” you grin, “and that’s why you love me. Now—either those jeans that make your ass look phenomenal or that little skirt I gave you last year. We’ll do your makeup, fix those ribbons, and then you’re hauling your ass out that window whether you like it or not.”

As you ramble on, you catch the smile forming on her lips, her fingers rising to hide it, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’re insane,” she says, laughing.

“I’m a genius,” you correct.

“He’s gonna kill you.”

Your red lips stretch into another grin. “I’d love to see him try.”

God, you were good. You’re a humble girl—really. Scout’s honor. But the things you can do with a makeup brush…Honestly? It deserves scientific documentation. Because by the time Mr. Miller’s snoring echoes through the walls and drifts up the stairs, you were already at work.

And now, only half an hour later, the birthday girl is glowing.

Her eyeliner is sharp enough to cut glass, her lips gleaming with that pink gloss you found buried at the bottom of her vanity drawer, and her cheeks are flushed that perfect rosy tone that makes her caramel skin look like it belongs in a beauty campaign.

“Oh. My. God,” you breathe, stepping back to admire your masterpiece. “You are so getting us free drinks tonight.”

“Drink,” she corrects, holding up a finger. “Singular. I promised one.”

You roll your eyes, already heading for the window. “Uh-huh. One drink. One shot. One phone number. I’m flexible.”

“I mean it!”

You just grin over your shoulder. “I know. But I also know you. You’ll cave the second someone with a thick Texan accent says you have pretty eyes.”

She lets out a groan—half exasperated, half excited—as you push the window open. The Austin night air drifts in, dry and cool against your skin, the quiet hum of cicadas in the distance. The sky is dark and clear, moonlight pooling across the shingles like it’s inviting you out.

You duck through first, your legs swinging over the sill as you balance on the edge. “Come on, birthday girl.”

“You're gonna get us killed before my dad even has the chance.”

You glance back with a grin. “Relax, it’s just a little jump.”

“Uh-huh.” She squeaks, but still climbs out behind you, barefoot and holding her heels, a whispered shit shit shit under her breath as the two of you crouch low and begin the careful climb down the old lattice nailed into the side of the porch. It isn’t exactly stable, but it holds—like it always does when you’re the one sneaking in.

You land with a soft thud in the grass, then looking up, you reach a hand toward her. “Easy. I got you.”

She drops down next to you, a little breathless, a little wild-eyed, already grinning.

Your phone buzzes with the alert of your driver arriving.

You slip your phone into your purse and nudg her with your elbow as the two of you start toward the street.

“One drink,” she reminds you.

You just smirk. “Sure, babe. One drink. And if we end up dancing on tables by midnight?”

“That’ll be on you.”

“Yeah. I can live with that.”

And off you go, pulling on your sneakers, the stars bright overhead as you climb into your Uber.

The night had gone from rowdy to regretful real fast.

And now, sitting on the curb outside the bar, shoes dangling from your fingers, the soles of your feet throbbing, you’re realizing just how deep in shit you are. The air has cooled just enough for goosebumps to rise along your arms, the sweat and heat from the crowded dance floor long gone. Your other hand clutches your phone, the blue glow of the screen casting shadows across your face.

The Uber app spins. And spins. And spins.

“No. No, no, no,” you whimper, voice tight as the screen flashes: No drivers available in your area.

No Uber. No Lyft. And no way in hell are you spending fifty bucks on a yellow cab. Yeah, you waitress at the diner, but that’s damn near an entire shift’s pay. Just to get home in one piece? No thank you.

You glance sideways.

Sarah is slumped beside you, her head cradled in her hands, the ribbons that once sat perfectly in her hair now unraveling in limp curls. One of her earrings is missing. Glitter streaks across her cheek like a tear. She lets out a soft, pitiful sound—somewhere between a sigh and a groan—and you swallow hard.

“Hey,” you murmur, crouching down in front of her, trying to keep your voice calm, “drink some of this.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she mutters. She sips from your water bottle like it’s acid.

“Well,” you say, steadying her with one hand on her shoulder, “if not now, you definitely will be in a second.”

Your stomach churns. Not from the alcohol—from what you’re about to do.

You take a breath, swipe to your contacts, and tap the name you’ve been avoiding all night.

Joel Miller’s truck pulls up ten minutes later.

It rumbles into view like a warning—headlights sweeping across the sidewalk, engine growling low and loud in the silence of the early morning. You stand, heart in your throat, wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt.

He barely put it in park before he’s out the door and moving.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, soft as ever, sliding his arms under Sarah’s shoulders to lift her, “I got you. It’s alright.”

She whimpers something, an apology maybe, but he just hushes her gently and helps her into the back seat, tucking her in like a child and buckling her seatbelt.

And then he turns.

Gone is the soft-spoken dad. Gone is the cooing.

His face shifts in the dim streetlight—jaw locked, eyes hard, voice like gravel.

“Get in the truck.”

Your mouth opens. It closes again, then you say, “I can find my own—”

“I said.” He takes a step toward you, slow and sharp. “Get. In. The truck.”

He yanks the passenger door open.

You stare at him for a second too long, heart pounding, but you step up into the cab and slide into the seat without another word. Joel slams the door behind you, and the truck rattles as he gets back in, hands gripping the wheel hard enough to make the leather creak.

The house is quiet when you get back, the kind of silence that feels like it might shatter if you breathe too loud.

Joel doesn’t say a word as he parks the truck and gets out. He silently opens the back door and unbuckles Sarah, arms curling under her like second nature. She stirs with a small groan, burying her face in his chest, and he murmurs something you don’t catch—low and warm and so damn gentle it makes your throat tighten.

The whole drive, his jaw had been clenched, eyes fixed on the road, one fist pressed to his mouth like he was holding back something dangerous. But now all you see is the gentleness in him as he carries her inside.

He nudges open her bedroom door with his boot at the top of the stairs, and you linger in the doorway, half-hidden by the frame, watching him move.

He settles her onto the mattress like he’s done it a hundred times, pulls back the blankets, and slips her shoes off. You watch as he tucks her in with practiced hands, slow and steady, smoothing the covers up over her chest.

Then he kneels beside the bed and brushes the hair from her face. Just once. A soft tuck behind her ear. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. There’s so much love in that one motion, it feels like you shouldn’t be allowed to exist in it with them.

He stands, turning toward you only long enough to brush past you without a word. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge you. Just moves down the hall, shoulders stiff and set, and disappears into the bathroom.

You hear the cabinet open. The faucet runs, something rattles on the counter.

When he passes you again, it’s with a glass of water in one hand and two white pills in the other. Still no words. No glance. Like you aren’t even there.

Your jaw tightens as he ducks back into Sarah’s room.

A minute later, he’s back in the doorway, pulling it shut behind him until the soft click of it closing can be heard in the dim hallway. Then, he turns.

And finally looks at you.

His face is unreadable. Jaw set and eyes cold. His mouth is a hard line, and those eyes that were once holding warmth as he took care of Sarah are deep and dark as they look down at you.

“I shouldn’t have—” you start, your voice small.

“Don’t,” he says.

You blink.

“I mean it,” he adds, walking past you toward the stairs, “don’t start with some half-ass apology just ‘cause you feel guilty now.”

You follow him. “I do feel guilty.”

He stops short, turning back to face you before stepping down. His eyes catch yours, sharp and cutting.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t—”

“You snuck out,” he snaps, the words cracking like a whip. “You took my kid into some shitty bar in your stupid little uniform and cheap perfume and thought that made you clever. Thought it made you cute.”

You feel the heat rise in your face—not from shame, but from something else entirely.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some little girl.”

“Then stop actin’ like one.”

You take a step toward him. Then another.

Joel doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His arms stay locked at his sides, fists curled, shoulders tense. His jaw flexes once, twice, like he’s biting back something worse.

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” Your voice softens, but only just. “You think I don’t catch the way you hover near the kitchen when I’m there, like you just happen to need something the second I bend over to grab something from the fridge?”

His eyes flash, but he still doesn’t speak.

So you keep going.

“The way you are at the games, pretending not to look. Pretending that you don’t think about me in this ‘stupid little uniform’?”

His breath comes a little heavier now, and his fists still haven’t unclenched, “You’re treadin’ on some mighty thin ice here, girl.” he says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re gonna wanna back up.”

You step in anyway, closing the last of the space. You lift your hand and press a finger to his chest, right over the line of buttons. You feel the heat of him through the cotton, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Just admit it,” you whisper. You tilt your chin up, just enough to meet his eyes. “You don’t see me as some kid anymore, Joel.”

His gaze drops to your mouth, lingering like he wants to watch his name fall from your lips. Then you watch as his eyes climb their way back to yours, slower this time. Measured. He looks at you like he’s still trying to convince himself this isn’t happening, but all you can see is the heat in his eyes.

And then his hands are on you.

Large, rough palms grabbing you with more force than you were ready for—dragging you forward, only to spin you and shove you. Your body hits the wall with a muted thud, breath catching as your palms splay flat against the cool surface. His chest is pressed to your back in the next second, pinning you there, the heat of him burning through your shirt.

You gasp, your cheek catching against the wall, breath fogging the paint. “What’re you—”

“You are such a goddamn brat,” he cuts you off, growling in your ear.

Your legs nearly buckle. You’re breathing hard already, the adrenaline and arousal twisting into something dizzying, but still—still—you can’t help the smile that pulls at your mouth.

His hands drop to your ass, gripping a handful through your skirt, his fingers digging in possessively. You arch slightly, instinctively, and he groans low in his throat, pressing harder into you like he’s trying to pin every inch of you still.

His forearm slides across your chest, then wraps around your throat—not quite choking, but holding. His bicep rests against your jawline, elbow snug beneath your chin, tilting your head just enough to keep you in place as his free hand drags your skirt up.

“Damn shorts,” he mutters when he finds the line of spandex in his way, annoyed. And then he’s yanking them down in one rough pull, not gentle or remotely slow. You let out a curse under your breath as the fabric drags down your thighs, baring you to him.

“Mr. Mill—”

“Need to show you.”

Your voice shakes when you answer. “Sh-show me?”

He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice like gravel and heat.

“What happens when brats disobey me.”

You try not to picture what it would look like if Sarah suddenly walked in—if she rounded the corner and saw you like this. Bare from the waist down, palms pressed to the wall, thighs trembling. Her dad standing behind you, his hands still on your hips, the hard press of him straining against his jeans.

But then your thoughts are shaken loose when you feel it. His palm, warm and broad, resting on your ass.

“Count,” he says, low and firm.

You barely have time to ask what he means before the first smack lands.

The sound cracks through the hallway, and you jolt, a gasp ripping from your throat. Not just from the sting, but from the way it shoots straight down your spine, heat blooming through your core.

“One,” you whisper.

His hand is back on you, soothing for a second, then gone.

Smack.

You bite your lip, hips jerking forward instinctively.

“Two.”

He hums behind you, like he’s pleased with himself. Or with you. Maybe both.

Another smack. Harder this time.

Your knees wobble.

“Three.”

“Mm,” Joel mutters, his voice deep, lazy, “thought you’d get louder than that.”

You grit your teeth, fingers flexing against the wall, breath starting to come faster.

The fourth one stings, sharp and hot.

“Four,” you moan. You can’t help it. Joel chuckles darkly behind you at the sound.

And then his hand slides down lower, to the slick waiting for him between your thighs.

Fingers dragging through your folds, slow and unhurried, and when he finds you soaked, he hisses through his teeth.

“Well, would you look at that.”

You squirm, a breathy whine escaping before you can catch it. His fingers stroke through your arousal a little firmer, a little more deliberate. You whimper at the contact of his calloused fingers, so thick and warm against you.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear again, and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks.

“Bad girls don’t get to play,” he murmurs, “even if their pussy’s practically cryin’ for me.”

Joel tsks quietly. His hand cups your ass again, possessive. His fingers are still slippery with the feeling of you. “Spoiled little thing. Thinkin’ she gets a reward for sneakin’ outta my house.”

His hand falls from your ass, and you hear the low scrape of his boots on the hardwood as he steps back.

“Turn around.”

You obey instantly, cheeks hot, body still throbbing from the sting of his palm. You pivot slowly, heart hammering, eyes catching on the way he towers over you—jaw tight, eyes dark with something closer to hunger than anger.

“Down.” He says, nodding to the floor in front of him. “On your knees.”

You drop without hesitation, the wood floor hard beneath your skin, but you don’t care. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Not when the air between you is so thick it’s hard to breathe.

His eyes stay on yours as he lifts one hand, fingers twitching as they tilt your chin up.

“Show me your tongue.”

You blink up at him, heat rushing straight between your legs at the command.

“Now.”

You part your lips and slowly stick your tongue out, holding it there—wet, obedient, waiting. Joel’s gaze drops to your mouth, and his jaw ticks again.

“So…” he mutters, voice low, approving, “she does know how to listen.”

His hand under your chin turns your face from side to side, your spit beginning to gather at the sides of your mouth as you realize he’s…admiring the view.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl when you wanna be.”

You grin, just a little, tongue still out, but there’s mischief behind your eyes. You tilt your head the tiniest bit, eyes flicking down to the bulge in his jeans, then back up again—deliberate.

“I’m always good,” you say around your tongue, your voice smug, a little breathy. “You just can’t handle it.”

Joel’s jaw flexes. He lets out a slow breath through his nose, like he’s trying very, very hard not to lose it.

“Always gotta run that mouth,” he mutters.

Then his hands find his belt. You stay right where you are, tongue still out, eyes narrowed, but now there’s a smirk tugging at your lips, even as your breath hitches when the buckle comes undone. You watch him with that cocky little tilt to your chin, like you’re waiting to see what he’s working with. Like you know exactly what’s coming, and you’re not sure he deserves your awe just yet.

He unzips his jeans, pushing them down just far enough to pull himself free.

His cock springs out thick and flushed, already hard, already leaking for you. The head is a deep, angry red, and it twitches slightly in his hand as he wraps his fingers around the base.

Your smirk falters. He’s huge. Bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and your stomach flips at the idea of it going…anywhere.

“Think what you mean is can you handle it?” Joel asks, voice low, rough.

You blink slowly, playing it cool even as your thighs press together.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Joel chuckles as he strokes himself once, slow and firm, eyes on your mouth.

“Open wider,” he says.

You do—but not all the way. Just enough to be a little annoying. A little slow. You even raise your eyebrows like this what you wanted?

Joel’s smile fades as he guides himself to your mouth.

“God,” he mutters, sliding his cock along your outstretched tongue. He teases himself there, the thick, swollen head dragging slowly across the surface—coating your lips in precum, smearing it slow and slick.

You hate how intoxicating he smells. Hate how good he tastes. Hate how much you love this angle—kneeling between his thighs, watching him look down at you like this is where you belong.

“Gonna paint my cock with that pretty red lipstick, baby?” he asks, voice rough with amusement, a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You smile up at him—defiant, even now—before closing your lips around the tip. The moment you suckle, your tongue flicking at the salty bead of arousal, he lets out a sharp, broken breath like you knocked it out of him.

He growls and suddenly backs you into the wall. Your head bumps against the hard surface, and your hands shoot out, grabbing at his thighs—nails digging into the worn denim for something to hold onto.

You glare up at him even as he presses deeper into your throat, taking control. His fingers slide into your hair, tightening, holding you there against the wall. He watches with dark, hungry eyes as your lips stretch wide around him, spit glossing the corners of your mouth.

“I like you so much better when your mouth is full of me.”

And then he starts to move.

He fucks your mouth with steady, brutal thrusts—your throat flexing around him, gagging as he pushes deeper, harder. You choke, sputtering when he thrusts all the way in, tears springing to your eyes as mascara streaks down your cheeks.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Gooood girl.” He drawls it out low and thick before pulling himself from your mouth, bending to hover in front of your face, eyes drinking you in—wrecked, ruined, perfect.

Your lipstick’s smudged across your chin. Mascara tears drag down your cheeks. Your mouth is red and wet and trembling.

He leans in and kisses you.

It’s brutal and hungry. His tongue pushes past your lips with zero hesitation, and you open for him instantly, swallowing the kiss like you’re starving. He tastes like that stupid Miller Lite and something synthetic, waxy—and you realize it’s your lipstick on his mouth.

When he pulls back, it’s too soon, and you chase his mouth without thinking.

He grins down at you, wicked and wild, and pats your cheek. Not gentle, not quite a slap, but something in between. Like a good dog.

Then, standing tall again, he grabs the base of his cock, lines himself back up, and guides it back into your mouth. He’s slow at first, letting you feel the weight of it. The heat. The way it stretches your jaw until your lips ache, the base of him thick and veiny against your tongue.

“That's it,” he murmurs, his hand tightening in your hair, “all the way into your throat, baby.”

He starts to move again in controlled, steady thrusts that make your throat flutter and your eyes tear up all over again. You moan around him, and the vibration makes him grunt, hips stuttering forward like he wasn’t ready for how good it feels.

His other hand drops to your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he watches the slick shine building around your lips.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You moan again, louder this time, and your thighs squeeze together.

Tightly.

The pressure spikes, your breath shallow and high, and your hand flutters down between your legs before you even think about it. Your fingers find your soaked folds—so warm, so wet you could cry—and you can’t help it. You have to touch. Just a little. Just enough to take the edge off. You swirl two fingers over your clit, barely a brush, just enough to ease the pressure.

Your throat tightens around Joel’s cock as you jerk against your fingers, and his eyes widen as he looks down at you.

“You touching yourself right now?” he asks, voice low. Disbelieving. His eyes drop to where your thighs are clenched together, to the subtle movement of your hand, and then back to your mouth wrapped around his cock. “Jesus fuck, baby.”

You moan around him again, your free hand bracing against his leg, nails digging into the muscle of his thigh.

“Couldn’t help it, huh?” His voice softens, but not with mercy—with need. “S’that good? That what my cock does to you?”

You nod as best you can, eyes fluttering, lips sucking harder, chasing that praise like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the floor. Your hand moves faster between your thighs, the pressure building hot and tight, a slow coil of need that burns through you like fire.

Joel groans above you, his hips starting to move again—deep, steady thrusts, like he’s savoring every inch of your mouth. You can’t help but moan around him again and again, eyes glazed, desperate.

But then, to your dismay, he slows.

And then he stops.

You whine, brows knitting together as he pulls out of your mouth, his cock heavy and flushed, spit-slick and twitching just inches from your lips. You blink up at him, lips wet and trembling, throat aching and still wanting more.

He doesn’t let you whine or complain before his hand is pulling yours away from yourself, tugging you up from your knees. Your legs are unsteady, muscles cramped and shaky from the floor, but he doesn’t give you time to adjust. In one swift movement, you’re off the ground, hauled up and over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

“Hey!” you gasp, hands scrabbling at his back, your stomach squished against the hard plane of his shoulder.

He swats your ass—hard—the sound sharp in the hallway. You yelp again, and his voice drops to a low, lethal hiss.

“Quiet.”

He carries you past Sarah’s door, the floor creaking beneath his boots, his arm tight around the backs of your thighs to keep you in place. You bite your lip, breath catching in your throat as you pass the one room you’ve never dared to enter.

And then he opens it.

His door.

The space is dark and warm, and you only have a second to process it before you’re flung onto the bed.

You land with a soft grunt, arms propping you up as you sit up to look at the man before you. He takes off his shirt, shucking off his jeans with haste, and is on you in the next breath.

“Ain’t about to let you come all by yourself on those fingers,” he says, reaching for your thighs and yanking them toward the edge of the bed with one rough pull.

His hands are already on you again, calloused palms spreading your thighs apart, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh until you gasp.

Joel groans in his throat, his eyes still on your glistening center, thighs shaking and slick with yourself. Your red cheer top is still on, bunched up slightly, your stomach showing and quivering under his touch.

He grips your thighs harder and spreads them wider, dragging you to the edge of the bed until you can feel his breath against your skin. His eyes never leave your pussy—pupils blown wide, jaw slack and lips parted like in awe.

And then he dives in, no hesitation, no slow teasing or light licking. No, Joel Miller devours you. Like a man possessed.

His tongue flattens against your folds and drags up, slow and deep, tasting everything. Your head is thrown back at the feeling, a moan escaping you before you have the wherewithal to keep yourself quiet.

“Christ,” he mutters, mouth slick with you, “tastes better than I ever coulda’ dreamed, baby,”

Your hips buck up, and he throws an arm over your stomach, pinning you down.

“Nuh-uh, you stay still,” he growls, nose nudging your clit before his mouth wraps around it, sucking. His tongue sends your vision white.

“Oh my–oh my god,” you gasp, crying out, hands clawing for his hair, nails scraping his scalp as he eats you out like it’s the last fucking supper. He moans into you, beard soaked and eyes hooded, watching you squirm. But just as your thighs begin to shake, your moans getting high and choked and frantic–

He stops. Your hands fall from his thick hair, gripping the sheets instead as you whimper. You open your eyes to look down at him, nearly sobbing at the loss.

“What’d I say about bad girls?” he asks, voice gravel and sin.

“I’ll–I’ll be good,” you stammer, breathless, “I’ll be good, Mr. Miller, I swear–”

He nips the side of your thigh, and your thighs still shake with the aching tension lost from them. “Come on now, baby,” he purrs, “call me Joel. Think we’re past the formalities when your pussy’s soakin’ my face.”

Your face burns red hot, stomach tightening and flipping on itself at the deepness of his sex drunk voice.

“Please,” you whisper, “please, Joel, let me come.”

But he’s already pushing himself up, stroking his pulsing cock in one hand, eyes on the slick mess between your legs.

“No,” he says, voice rough, “not yet.”

You let out a soft whine, your legs still twitching, your body begging.

He climbs over you, slow and deliberate, crowding your space. He nudges you up the bed with the weight of his body, palms guiding you like you’re something delicate. His knees cage your thighs, and his hand finds your ribs, broad and warm and steadying. His thumb curls under the hem of your uniform top.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?” he says, and you’re surprised when it’s said so gently, even if his eyes hold a hunger so deep they’re nearly black. You nod, lifting your arms up, and he pulls it over you swiftly, throwing it to the side of the bed. His eyes fall to your chest, and his hand is back on you, splayed wide against your skin.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers, breath ghosting over your pebbled breasts. You shiver, hips lifting unconsciously, and you feel the pulse of his hard cock against your thigh.

He leans in, taking your peaked nipple into his mouth, so warm and wet. Your back arches at the feeling of his tongue lapping over you, teeth grazing until he releases your breast with a soft pop, kissing between the valley until he finds the other nipple, treating it to the same gentle worship.

His lips move up to your throat then, slow, hot, the kind of open-mouth kiss that's more tongue than anything else. You gasp as he finds the crook in your neck, goosebumps rising as your back arches into him.

You feel his wide, open palms slide beneath you, one pressing into the small of your back, the other across your shoulders. You feel the shift in his body before he moves. His muscles tighten as he gathers his strength, and then he’s rolling you over.

He turns smoothly, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of movement, his hands still wrapped around you. But as you find yourself on top of him, in his lap, you sit upright.

“You wanna come so badly, baby?” he murmurs. “Then take it.”

Your eyes go wide as you look down at him, palms splayed across his chest, feeling the heat and sweat slick over taut muscle. He’s burning beneath your hands, every breath you take ragged and shallow.

Whatever you had been expecting tonight, whatever you had thought would happen the more and more you goaded him, it wasn’t this.

Joel Miller was filthy and delicious and feral.

“Go on,” he says at your hesitation, “show me how much you like when your best friend’s daddy touches you.”

Your breath shudders out of you, his hands finding your hips and gently brushing his thumbs against your heated skin.

You reach down, moving your hips back to make space for your hand to wrap around the base of his cock. The moment your fingers make contact, his eyes flutter shut, his breath hissing out of him. You watch his face as you position yourself above him, teasing the head through your slick folds, dragging it up against your clit.

You take a deep breath as his cock catches the notch of your entrance, his eyes flashing open at the sudden feeling of you sinking onto him. You roll your hips, adjusting to him, his hands tight against your hips.

“Fuck,” he chokes.

The stretch of him as you glide down him slowly, gently, nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. It’s too much, way too much. But it’s so perfect, the sheer girth and stretch of him making your eyes roll back. Your mouth falls open as you inch your way down, down down, until you’re fully sheathed over him, your hips meeting his.

You sit there for a moment, rolling your hips a bit back and forth, around, letting yourself feel every vein, every nook and crevice of him, and when you look up at your face, a breathless little smile grows on your lips.

“This got you all worked up, Joel?” you purr, “All that grumpy ass attitude, you just needed this, didn’t you?”

You move again, adding a little bounce, and his jaw slackens, his grip tightening on you.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, nearly wrecked.

“You’re so easy, Mr. Miller,” you hum, rocking over him again, “all that control, that stoicism, just…gone.”

He narrows his eyes, something dangerous flickering there. He bares his teeth, voice tight and low.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, growls, “Keep runnin’ that slutty mouth of yours, see where it gets ya.”

You lean in close, hands moving to his hair, lacing your fingers through his thick locks as your lips press to his ear, “Where, Joel?” you whisper, “What’re you gonna do? Punish me?”

His grip on you shifts, he moves his hands up your body, mirroring your hands and pushing his through your hair, wrapping tight at the nape of your neck. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck. Your breath catches, somewhere between surprise and delight. Your pussy clenches around him at the feeling, and he groans beneath you.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” he hisses, “I give you a little control, let you ride my dick, and you already have shit to say, huh?”

His hips thrust up hard, and you choke on a moan. The new angle makes you jolt as he drives into you, deep and unrelenting, hitting places he hadn't before.

You cry out when he keeps moving, hips grinding in steady, punishing strokes, each one pushing deeper, like he’s chasing something inside you only he knows how to reach.

“Fuck, Joel!”

“There she is,” he says, lips kissing and teeth nipping at your jaw as he holds you in place by your hair, “there’s my filthy little girl. Pussy is so tight, practically drippin’ all over my cock. Still doesn’t stop that little mouth of yours, does it?”

You try to grind down on him, and he chuckles darkly, “You like the way my cock fill’s you, huh baby?” he mutters, voice thick, groaning at the feeling of you, “Like the way I stretch you, fill you up? S’like you were made for me, huh?”

You nod, your voice completely wrecked as you moan.

“Tell me..”

Your cheeks burn, “Y-yeah,”

He tuts, fingers clinging harder to your hair, “Try again.”

“Feels so fucking—so fucking good, Joel,” you whisper, “please, please–want more,”

He hums in satisfaction, loosening his grip on your hair. Your neck aches, sore and stretched, but the second your eyes drop to his, his mouth is on yours.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and rough. “Now ride me like you mean it.”

You sit back up, hips moving in slow, deliberate circles at first, testing what he likes, watching his eyes flicker with each shift and grind. Joel’s hands slide from your thighs to your waist, up your sides, palms rough as they settle there.

“Look at you,” he says, “Ridin’ me so sweet now. Just needed a little direction, huh?”

You gasp as his hands drag up, thumbs brushing under your breasts before his palms cup them, fingers curling around your nipples. He rolls them slowly, tugging just enough to make your hips jolt, your mouth falling open in a broken moan.

“That’s it,” he groans, “Feel good?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Show me,”

You lift one hand from his chest, one still bracing against him for balance while the other slips between your legs. Your fingers trace around your lower lips, feeling them stretch around his cock until they slide up and find your clit. The little bundle of nerves is still slick and swollen from the edge he’d pulled you off, and you start to circle it, starting to slowly build up the pace as he watches.

“Jesus,” he mutters, hips pushing up into you, “Touchin’ yourself on my cock like a good girl.”

You whimper, the pressure building up again so easily as you watch his face. His dark hair is all mussed and sticking to his forehead with a wet sheen of sweat, eyes on you, barely blinking as he watches your fingers.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he pants, voice rough and strained. “Gonna soak me like that pretty pussy’s meant to?”

“Kiss me,” you blurt out.

His eyes flicker up to yours.

You slow your fingers, breath catching, heart pounding in your throat.

“Want you to kiss me again, Joel,” you whisper, trembling. “Please.”

Something shifts in his expression, his hand moving from your breast to your cheek, cradling your face so gently it nearly aches. You lean into him, nuzzling his wide, warm palm as he begins to sit up.

As he leans forward, his cock still buried inside you, he uses one hand to prop himself up while the other holds you, and he presses his lips to yours.

It’s not filthy this time. At least, not at first. At first, it’s just a gentle press of his lips, soft and tender against yours. But as you moan and rock against his cock, his hand moves into your hair, pulling you closer to him, and his tongue breaches the opening of your mouth. You kiss him back hungrily, his mouth tasting like something sweet and heady, like you.

As your tongue slides against his, Joel groans softly. He shifts his hips, just slightly, enough for you to feel him inside you, a reminder, still hard and thick and pulsing.

You begin to move again, grinding yourself faster and faster, your walls beginning to tighten around him. You open your eyes when his lips fall from yours, his jaw slack and brows furrowed tight. You clench around him, and a guttural groan escapes from his throat.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he groans, then his eyes open, looking up at you, “come on now, baby. Can feel how badly she wants to come all over me. Let me feel it, please. Let me feel you come all over me.”

He meets every one of your thrusts now, cock reaching the deepest parts of your cervix, hands sliding down your back, guiding your movement, your hips, and you follow the rhythm instinctively. His cock hits an angle inside you that has you shrieking his name.

“There it is, baby, can feel it right there,” he chants, “come on now, give it to me.”

Your breath stutters, your hand holding onto his shoulder for dear life as your fingers work your clit faster and faster.

Suddenly, your vision pops with stars, head tilting back, mouth held open in the perfect ‘o’ as you gush around him. Your orgasm crashes over you, sharp and overwhelming, your body clenching and shivering around him.

He holds you through it, one arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other gripping your thigh as you twitch and shudder through the last pulses of your orgasm. His hips start to stutter—uncontrolled now, jerking deeper like his body’s no longer listening to him.

“F-Fuck—fuck, baby,” he pants, voice ragged and unraveling, “I’m—Jesus—I’m gonna—”

“Yes, Joel,” you breathe, voice wrecked and sweet in his ear, “come inside me.”

He falters, choking on a breath, still thrusting helplessly as your words wrap around him as he pulls back to look at you.

“Wh-What?”

“It’s okay,” you whisper again, voice low and urgent, “I have an IUD, come inside me, please,”

His eyes widen, glassy, and stunned, but you keep going.

“Wanna feel you when I fall asleep,” you murmur, hips rocking gently into his, “when I wake up tomorrow. Want the reminder. Want it dripping out of me. Please, Joel.”

That’s it.

He lets go with a broken sound, the muscles in his abdomen tightening as he drives into you one last time—deep and hard and final. His cock throbs inside you, and he comes with a low, brutal groan into your neck, his whole body shaking against yours.

He stays buried deep, breath hitching in your ear as he presses his chest to yours, both of you slick and panting. His back finally hits the mattress, and he pulls you with him, your bodies still tangled, his arms never leaving your waist.

You collapse against his chest, cheek pressed over his racing heart, both of you trembling and silent for a long moment.

His hand finds the small of your back, tracing lazy circles against your damp skin as your breathing starts to settle. The room is quiet now, the storm of what just happened still buzzing faintly in the air between you. You shift slightly against his chest, and he pulls you closer.

Then, after a long pause, you hear him say, “You’re…you’re not drunk, are you?”

You huff a laugh against his collarbone “No.”

He waits, though, still uncertain.

“I had one drink,” you say, lifting your head to look at him. He lifts a brow at you.

“Okay, two.” You roll your eyes. “But I swear, not drunk. Not even tipsy.”

He nods, slow. His jaw’s tight again, but not in anger this time—more like restraint. Like he’s keeping something bigger from getting loose.

“Just didn’t wanna…” He clears his throat. “Didn’t want you to wake up tomorrow and…”

You blink at him, “Regret this?” you ask, and your hand moves up to cup his scruffy jaw, “how could I regret somethin’ that I’ve been thinking about every time you so much as look at me?”

Joel stares at you.

Like really stares.

And you just smile a little harder, curling into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, covering his face with one hand, the other still cradling your hip. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grin into his chest. “Might be a good way to go.”

And Joel—tired, wrecked, full of you—just laughs.

Really laughs.

And that’s how the night ends. Not in panic. Not in guilt.

But with your legs tangled up, and Joel Miller already falling for you.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller x you smut #ethel cain inspired

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gojoscinnamonroll · 4 months ago

Text

wanna let him unwrap me & get on top of him by the fireplace..

cw: mdni + ageless blogs dni !! afab reader x choso kamo, reader and choso live together, mentions of marriage & children, lots of smooches, smut!!! , lingerie, everything is consented, p in v unprotected sexxxx, riding, missionary, switch! choso hehe, pet names, oral, breeding kink, swearing/profanity, creampies

a/n: HAPPY DECEMBER AND HOLIDAYS MY CUTIES!! ^_^ wc: 1.6k

“hm? a bow v-string panty? how cute.” you thought to yourself as you were in a lingerie boutique while out shopping with your friends, utahime and shoko, at the mall for presents for your lovers and family. you originally weren’t planning on stopping by for lingerie since you were out shopping for your loved ones' gifts but you remembered how you were needing some new underwear so you decided to stroll in for a moment since you were already out blowing money.

“oooh, are you gonna buy that to wear for your little cho cho?” shoko snickered.

your face flushed into a darker shade of pink than the blush you were already wearing from her remark. “sho, i love you but please shut up.” you mumbled, turning away from embarrassment.

“yeah shoko, shut it you weirdo.” utahime rolled her eyes in disgust. but you couldn’t help to anticipate that maybe this would be a cute little naughty surprise for your bashful boyfriend to add onto his christmas gifts. so you quickly grabbed the red pair and hid it under the rest of the undergarments you were already planning to purchase to head the register to check out. (and when the cashier had asked if you wanted to also purchase the matching bow bra that ties in the front, you definitely said yes.)

later that night when you got home from your shopping spree and started to put all your purchases away, you couldn't help but stare at the matching lingerie you had laying out on the dresser and imagine how your boyfriend choso will react. you heard choso walking in and hurriedly try to hide the underwear so that the surprise wouldn’t be ruined.

"hello baby, how was the mall? got any christmas shopping done?" pulling you in for a hug with a kiss to your forehead as he sets down some hot chocolate he made for you. "I did! I can't wait for you to see what I got you!" giving him a glittering smile.

"ooh! ooh ooh, is it that new gaming headset or the new game that just came out?" choso asked jumping up and down like a kid in a candy store. "noooo you silly!! I can't tell you, you have to wait until christmas! anyways, i'm going to go get dinner started." you held his cheek and kissed him walking away.

boy, was he in for a treat.

────

december 25th, 7am -

that morning, you had woken up earlier than usual to place the last few presents under the tree and get started on breakfast, being careful not to wake choso— the present you had for him waiting under the silk ivory robe you had on while getting the fireplace ready since it was a little chilly in your shared home. you heard the shuffling of footsteps coming from upstairs and your heart began to thump in excitement and nervousness.

as choso was heading downstairs, he stopped in his tracks absolutely starstruck at the sight before him— his gorgeous girlfriend under the tree, staring back at him like an angel.

“merry christmas, cho.” you purred while sitting on your heels.

“w- what is this baby?” he stammered with crimson tint to his cheeks. his heart jumping, (and so was something else) and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering as if he was falling in love with you all over again. you knew your boyfriend liked what he saw because it was obvious in those chestnut brown, doe eyes of his. “it’s your gifts!” playing dumb as you handed him the present with the game and new headphones he kept asking you for the last 3 months prior. “go ahead, open it!” clapping your hands in joy, but your smile faded as he set the gift to the side.

“that’s not what i’m talking about… i’m talking about..” he stopped to adore you, the way your pillowy breasts sat pretty in the bow-tied bra, and the way your panties hugged your hips, all while giving him an innocent look as if you don’t know what your doing to him. still sitting before him, he kneeled down to your level.

“this.” he lightly grazed his fingers over the big red bow on the front of your bra. “oh!-” still playing dumb. “it’s my new underwear! do you like it?” batting your eyelashes at him.

and with how he was eyeing you down, he might as well just have been drooling a puddle on the floor.

“y-yeah, i.. i do..” choso breathed out. you gently pulled him in to capture his lips with yours, him whining into the kiss. as the two of you pressed lips against each other and shared each other’s breath, you gently pushed him back just right in front of the fireplace to climb on top of him.

“fuck..” he moaned breathlessly in between kisses, “this is the best present i’ve gotten already.” you paused to admire his handsome face and leaned in, “well santa told me how much of a good boy you’ve been this year.” cooing in his ear as his gaze fall onto the pretty bow tied in between the valley of your breasts.

“can i untie this?” looking up at you through his long eyelashes.

“of course you can cho, i’m a present just like you said.” with those words, he began to unwrap the bow on your bra and gently caress your breasts once untied. his lips made their way to clasp around your nipples and drew circles with his tongue while his other hand began running up and down your soft body as you started grinding against the hard on in his pajamas— your poor boyfriend becoming overstimulated from the feeling because he started whimpering into your breasts.

“how bad do you want it?” you whispered sultrily into his ear, “i want it bad, now please. please baby i need it.” he begged with dilated pupils and a raspy voice.

you lifted your hips up a little to assist him in removing his bottoms and moved your floss of an underwear to the side to slowly sink down on his pulsating and achy cock. he let out the nastiest, pornographic and needy moan once you got all of him into you.

“mmp, you feel so f- fuck! so fucking good” he whined out. the sight below you so heavenly as you watch choso slowly become a wreck– his long dark hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his eyes rolling back as you continue to bounce on him.

“gonna cum for me already, handsome?” tantalizing your poor lover. “b-baby, please slow down i don’t wanna cum yet, oh s-shit” but it was too late. he’s just too in love with you and the way you feel around him to control himself, tears falling from his eyes from how good you were pleasuring him but also because of how embarrassed he was that he came undone too quickly.

“it’s okay cho, i-” cradling him, but your breath hitched from surprise because he flipped you over to switch positions with you, him now being the one on top.

“i’m not done yet, you’re gonna take this cock for me princess.” he babbled, as if a light in his head had switched. he slipped the rest of your lingerie off, lining his swollen tip against your leaking slit before slowly burying himself inside as you let out a moan that was like music to his ears. once he bottomed out into you, he started thrusting in and out like a dog in heat.

“this is what you wanted right? to tease me? hah- cmon pretty, you can take it.” he was splitting you open so deliciously that you started seeing stars and began clenching around him like a vice.

“ch- cho please, s- slow down, you're too big” you choked out as you gripped onto his biceps and wrapped your thighs around his waist.

“look at me or i’ll stop.” he gently grabbed your chin, and you looked back up at him with glazed eyes. “you’re so pretty baby… i’m gonna marry you mmh- then i’m gonna give you babies that are pretty just like you.” gasping and looking into your eyes as he kept hitting that spot in you that was pushing you over the edge.

he felt too good. way too fucking good. you felt like you were getting sent into another world even. you and your cunt becoming a sloppy mess before him, lewd noises coming from the both of you, drool spilling from the side of your lips, your juices squirting all over his chiseled abs and maybe even onto the rug. but at this point, you were too cockdrunk too care. you could feel every vein of his gliding against your velvet walls as his swollen tip kept hitting your sweet spot.

"f-fuck, oh my g-" your voice trembling and eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. " 'm gonna c-cum!" writhing under him as your climax washes over you and sucks him in.

"y-your so tight wifey.. please let me cum in you please, I need to ngh!" his release painting your insides as he slams his hips into you one last final time, and it's almost taking everything in him not to propose to you while still being balls deep inside of you still.

as he slides his glistening dick out from you, some of his seed spill out, reminding him how much he has filled you up. and don't worry... he’s not letting one drop go to waste. he holds your thighs open to push the mess back in with his fingers.

once he gets you all cleaned up, he picks you up in bridal style. “that was the best christmas gift ever!" as he brushes the hair out of your face and gives you a loving and warm kiss on your flustered cheek.

"choooo!" you giggled, "don’t forget you still have to open the other gift i got you!!"

reblogs & likes are very much appreciated! pls don't copy or steal my works <3

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jeongin-lvr · 4 months ago

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i have a clinical problem when it comes to dad!chan...

some call it breeding knk i call it awesomeness :>

(this is me terribly requesting some sort of fluffy of smutty dad!chan (or all members) fic ><)

spent an hour looking at Chan pics on Pinterest look what you’ve done to me cw. reader & Chan has 2 kids, breeding lol, & super fluffy.

The thing about dad! Chan is that when he fucks you he always does it with the intention of knocking you up all over again. I mean, you’ve already given him 2 perfect angels what’s the harm in one more… or two maybe? Chan’s currently aiming for 6 (audible gasp). But he’s having you bent in all kinds of positions, trying with all his might to reach the deepest parts of you, he is practically in your stomach from how far he’s reaching. Slowly pushing in and out of you, doing his best to keep control when all he wants to do is spill into you and give you another lil baby.

“Channie… f-fuck, can’t do it anymore…” You’re all dizzy as he holds your hips down, big hands pressing hard into your soft, supple flesh. You’re clawing at his chest eagerly, begging for some kind of relief.

“Yes, ya can,” Chan encourages, dropping his head on your shoulder to stare down at where two bodies connected, again and again. Entranced by the way all of him fit so snugly inside of you, so effortlessly. You whimpered softly, all sensitive from yet another oncoming orgasm, “Look at how good my baby is taking me… all pretty and eager for Channie, hm?” His Australian accent is seeping with sex, dripping from his lips like melted candy and onto your heated skin, only making you more uncontrollably horny. You’re clenching hard; the feeling of his cock dragging over your walls was dizzying, and the urge to cum was approaching fast. You needed this.

With the way Chan was grunting, though, he needed this more, “M’ gonna knock you up all over again, yeah? Make you all pretty with my baby,” Chan pants, his plump lips fast to kiss all over your face and jaw, down your neck like a canvas for him to paint. His movements are quickening now, your eyes fluttering shut with every deep push into you. You’re making the most disgusting sounds at his promises, pussy convulsing around him so hard he curses in a litany. Chan picks up the pace, the wet squelch of your bodies meeting lewd and music to his ears. You swallow hard, dry throat and wet eyes as a fat tear slid down your face. You clutched his shoulder, “Mm, Ch-Chan, you’re so—“

“Feel that? Feel how deep I am?” Chan is groaning as your pussy flutters around him, “You close, mama? Gonna take all my cum, yeah?” He’s smirking, pretty eyes falling shut as your orgasm sends him into his; his fingers dancing over to yours, lacing into them softly as your little mewls became slow breaths. His hips still, you can feel every drop of him empty into your womb, so filling and so good.

“That’s my girl,” Chan kisses your wrist, squeezing the hand he was holding in reassurance, “Pretty mama..” He’s kissing you again, down your arm, across your chest, cupping your face with his free hand and leaning in to give you the sloppiest, slow kiss of your life. Tender pace and soft lips making you whine against his lips.

“Chan… it’s too soon to be having another baby,” You spoke softly, eyes practically closed shut as you tried not to moan with the way he was stilled deep inside of you. Chan almost smiles, pressing his hands at the fat of your thighs and lifting them up, up, up until they laid beside your head, stretching you. You actually moan this time, placing your palm flat against his chest, “F…fuck, Chan.” You warned.

“Hm? M’ just making sure this takes…” He’s grinning, slithering a hand between your bodies and finding your oh-so sensitive clit. “You just look so pretty swollen with my kid,” His big arms hold your legs up as he leans forward, ghosting your lips with his, “Let me fuck a baby into you, mama. C’mon…”

You kiss back, open mouthed and messy as your hands glide up his back. It’s so slow and tedious, signaling for him to draw his hips back further, stuffing his length back into you in a tender rhythm. Your eyes began rolling back at the sound of his merciless pleas.

“Sh-shit, yes,” You pleaded, clawing into his skin roughly as your orgasm prolonged, “Channie… need it, please, please, please—“ He shut you up with another firm kiss on the mouth, his tongue exploring yours, spit leaking down the slit of your mouth lewdly as you mewled into his jaw. Chan held you down on his cock, a sudden bursting moan escaped from his throat, giving you something to swallow as his thick ropes of cum filled your aching hole. You felt full, swollen to the brim and sensitive all over. Your eyes watery, slipping down tears that stung your heated skin. Your heaving chest synced with Chan’s as he collapsed onto you, his face nuzzled into the side of your head.

You were about to speak, saying something about how he was cutting off your oxygen by the way he was laid over you, but he got up, reaching over for a small throw pillow and stuffing it under your hips, giggling to himself.

“Baby number 3, here we go…” Chan said with the dorkiest grin, you couldn’t help but grin back, rolling your eyes.

#feat. chan .ᐟ #lowkey blacked out writing this #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz bang chan #bang chan oneshot #bang chan smut #skz imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids bang chan #bang chan scenarios

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prael · 1 month ago

Text

Drive You Crazy

Aespa Winter x Male Reader // Quickfire Challenge 2

words: 4,988 Masterlist

"That's it. You're so not getting any tonight. I already told you, it's the lighting." There's an inflexion at the end of the sentence. A little indicator, a warning light, Winter's about to raise her voice - lose her cool - and it'll be the second time in as many minutes.

"Did you shave them off?" you ask, leaning in far too close to her brow.

"What?!" she snaps. "I did not shave off my fucking eyebrows."

"Is it some sort of trend? Are people into that? If it is then I don’t think I like it."

"Not only are you not getting any, you're sleeping on the floor." She's trying not to get angry, trying to make this all into a joke, but the way her lips are pursed - and those are still perfect, as ever - means you've pushed her a little too far.

"I don't want to sleep with someone with no eyebrows anyway."

No words this time, only a punch in your left arm. You yelp in mock pain, rubbing your shoulder as though she's actually done any real damage. You start stumbling ahead of her, acting out a limp, and you know she's staring at you with that 'fuck-off-now-or-I'm-actually-gonna-hit-you' expression on her face. "That did not hurt, stop it."

"I'm pretty sure I've got a bruise, look." You turn around, rolling up the sleeve of your t-shirt to expose the skin below. It's not there, obviously, but you wait until Winter's standing beside you before you start laughing. She doesn't find it quite so funny.

"You're so fragile. So easily damaged," she says, walking past you, bumping your shoulder again. Her dress ripples in the gentle breeze that whips up behind the trees to your right, before flowing through, carrying the scent of pine, earth, and fresh grass. A fitting compliment to the lake on your left, and the setting sun above. The sky is painted a vivid red, with a gradient of pink, orange and purple, and the clouds are thin, like wisps of cotton candy.

You follow a few steps behind, plotting your next move, your next opportunity to annoy her. It's a game you love to play because you know that no matter how much she might pretend otherwise, Winter does enjoy it. And it's easy to wind her up, so easy. "Hey, can we go for a swim? It looks like it's really warm."

"No," she says, not even bothering to look back at you.

"God, you're so boring." You catch up to her, walk side by side, and wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, kissing her on the temple, just below her hairline. "But you are the prettiest girl here, I'll give you that."

"Shut up, I'm the only girl here," she says, though the hint of a smile appears. "I'm boring for not wanting to throw myself in a lake filled with who knows what."

"Fish," you say.

"Exactly."

"And plants, and water..."

"Thank you for clearing that up."

"Don't mention it."

"You're an ass, do you know that?"

"So you keep telling me."

"Yeah, well, maybe one day you'll start believing me."

"Maybe."

The two of you continue walking along the dirt path, through the trees, and out towards the clearing. Winter's arm has made its way around your waist, and now the two of you are walking in time, matching strides, the sound of your steps on the gravel echoing in a pattern that becomes almost rhythmic. You're close to your cabin now, just a few more minutes and you'll be able to throw off your shoes and fall onto the bed, pull her down with you, and-

"I'm gonna take a bath," Winter says.

"Funny, I was just thinking something similar."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, I was thinking you could take a bath right now." You bend and scoop Winter up into your arms, lifting her from her feet and holding her tight against your chest. She lets out a loud, high-pitched scream, but it's followed by a laugh.

"What are you doing? Put me down."

"Nope." You're already moving, already half-running, and as her hands come to rest on the side of your neck, you feel her fingers pressing hard into your skin, trying to keep her balance.

"Are you serious?"

"Always," you reply.

"You're such a dumbass. If you drop me-"

"Gonna drop you alright." You veer left before you reach the cabin, stepping onto the pier and out towards the middle of the lake, ignoring the screams of protest from Winter.

"You are not dropping me in there, I swear to God, if you do, I'm leaving you. I will never-"

You cut her off, letting her drop into the water with a splash, and you stand there, watching as her head pops out from beneath the surface, hair flat against her forehead, sticking to her cheeks. "It's freezing cold, you shit!" She yells.

"What? You were looking a little hot, figured a dip in the lake would cool you down."

"I hate you." She splashes water in your direction.

"Oh, you don't mean that," you reply, bending at the knees, peering over the edge of the dock. She's wiping her hair from her face, and there's a glare, a dark shadow cast across her features that makes you think you've gone a step too far.

"Get in," she says, grabbing your ankles and pulling.

"Winter! Don't-" You're falling before you have time to finish the sentence, and the world seems to move in slow motion, the water approaching as if it's coming to a stop for you, rather than the other way around. You break the surface, spluttering, coughing. "It's fucking freezing."

"That's what I just said."

"Yeah, well," you try to catch your breath, "I guess I was too busy admiring how hot you were to pay any attention."

"Don't start saying nice things after you've already dunked me in here. I'll never believe you again."

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Just, come here." You reach out, grabbing her hand, and pulling her towards you.

"We're gonna get hypothermia," she snaps.

"I'll warm you up."

Your hands meet her hips, and she wraps her legs around your waist, her arms around your neck. It's an embrace that's been repeated a thousand times, but one you know will never become repetitive. The way her lips move against yours is always exciting, always fresh, as if it's the first time all over again. And when you feel her tongue slip inside your mouth, and her fingers tangle themselves in your hair, there's nothing in the world you want more.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Winter says.

"I know."

"But you're my asshole."

"I know."

You kiss her again, and as her teeth gently bite your bottom lip, your grip on her tightens.

"Let's get back to the cabin," she whispers.

"Why?"

"Because," she says, "I want to fuck you."

"I thought I wasn't getting any tonight."

"Shut up already, will you?"

You leave a trail of water in your wake. Through the doorway, over the hardwood floor, making a trail to the bathroom. There are puddles on the carpet, droplets of water clinging to your skin, and goosebumps covering both your bodies. You feel them on her as you peel the dress from her body. Light fabric, sodden and made heavy, clinging to her every curve, and every crease, until it's a puddle on the floor.

"You're a mess," she says, and there's a playful grin on her face.

"Me?" You look down, running your eyes over her naked form. "Yeah, right. Look at you. Think we washed off whatever was left of your eyebrows, though."

She hits you with the palm of her hand, and then her arms are wrapped around your neck, her lips pressed against yours. You step forward, pushing her into the shower and then you reach out, palming against the wall and searching for the knob. Water cascades from the ceiling, and your eyes are open, staring straight into Winter's as her hand grips your wrist, pulling it downwards, pressing your fingers against her. You're smiling, and she is too.

"Is this the part where I'm not getting any?" You ask, and her response is a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.

"It's the part where you stop talking." She kisses you again, and you're more than happy to comply. Her tongue slips into your mouth, your finger into her cunt, and it's hot, wet, and desperate - the kiss and the cunt. It's the latter that has you weak at the knees.

You press her against the tiled wall, her back arching away from the cold surface. The shower's a tight squeeze, and the steam and spray are starting to fill the small space, but the water's warm, and Winter's warmer. And as you slip another finger inside her, her eyes flutter closed and her nails dig into the back of your neck, dragging along the skin.

You're at her neck now, an assault on her senses. Tongue and teeth and lips and hands, all working together to coax out moans, gasps, and whispers. "Don't stop." You hear her say, and it's not as if you could, or would.

It's the little things that make you want to worship her. The way her breath catches when you suck on her pulse point, the way her nails dig harder, her hands grab tighter, the way she starts rolling her hips and grinding against the heel of your palm. You curl your fingers, push in deeper, and feel her clench, tightening around them.

You've got her fucking planted against the wall. Water runs down her naked form. Rolling down those shoulders; a cascade over her breasts; flowing over her toned stomach that tightens ever more by the second; dripping off her thighs, which are spread wide, and shaking with each thrust of your fingers. And, finally, the rivulets of water that stream down her back, her ass, her legs.

You pull her into another kiss, and the noises she's making are driving you crazy. Her moans, her pants, her curses. And the way her lips tremble and her jaw quivers. "Fuck, keep going, just like that," she whispers, and your heart skips a beat, and the throbbing between your legs becomes almost painful.

You know she's getting close. She always gets the same look on her face. That expression of pleasure mixed with pain like the feeling's almost too much, but it's just enough. And when she cums, she throws her head back, and her hands ball into fists. And the only sound she makes is a gasp, and her body goes rigid, her walls tighten, and you feel her cumming against your fingers, and then her knees buckle and you have to catch her, hold her steady.

"You're always so easy," you tease, and her eyes open. She's looking at you like she wants to punch you, or fuck you, or both. Maybe.

"No, I'm not." There's that signature furrow of her brow, that telltale crease.

"So easy," you repeat.

"I'll show you easy," she says, and the next thing you know, your back's against the tiles and her mouth is on yours.

And, oh, does she show you.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You're lying beside each other, the sheets pulled up, barely covering the two of you. Your bodies are entwined, your limbs tangled, and Winter's head rests on your chest, her ear against your chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of your heartbeat.

"Talk about what?" Winter asks.

"Well, we've never done that before."

"We have sex all the time," she says quizzically.

"That wasn't just sex," you reply.

"My ass?" She looks up at you.

"Your ass." You nod, smiling. "That was.... new. How was it? Did it hurt?"

"You know, the fact that you're asking questions and not making jokes is kinda weirding me out. Don't think it's going to be a regular thing, okay?" Winter rolls off your chest and onto her back, her head resting on her own pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "How was it for you?"

"Unexpected. Hot."

"You can stop trying to play it cool. I saw you back there, losing your mind while you fucked my ass."

"You're the one who came so hard that she nearly passed out."

"Shut up," she laughs. "Go to sleep. And don't even think about touching me in the morning. My ass hurts."

"I could kiss it better."

"Fuck off," she says, slapping your arm, but there's a smile on her lips, and then she shuffles closer to you, draping an arm over your stomach.

"Last day," Winter sighs as she looks out onto the lake from the balcony, her arms folded across the railing as she leans forward against it. The metal is cool on her exposed stomach. She's wearing one of your shirts and nothing else, and the way the morning breeze ripples against it sends a chill running up her spine. The sun is already warming her skin though, and the coolness is more than welcome.

"Not ready to leave?" you ask from inside the cabin, still packing the clothes you brought with you.

"I'm not sure," she replies, turning her head, and watching you fold a t-shirt and place it into the suitcase that sits open on the bed. "I do miss my own bed, but I'm not sure I want to go back to reality yet."

"Reality can wait another few hours, don't you think?" you ask as you approach her on the balcony, wrapping your arms around her from behind, your hands resting on her stomach, pulling her closer.

"I guess," she says. "We'll leave and then be replaced by some other young couple that will fuck all day, every day."

"Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?"

"No, not at all," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm not the jealous type."

"I think you might be," you say, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck, just below her hairline. "Remember when we were in that bar, and the bartender kept winking at me?"

"How could I forget? I wanted to smash my bottle over her head."

"Point proven." Another kiss and your fingers begin to play with the edge of the shirt. "So, we have a few hours left. Want to go for a walk somewhere? Maybe we can see where the trails go today?"

"Maybe you can get down on your knees?"

"You want to waste the last day of vacation in bed?"

"Sex with a view? Yes please." Winter pulls your hand onto her ass, and you can feel her smile when you press your lips against the back of her neck again. "You can't say you don't like the idea."

"That doesn't mean it's not a waste." You reply, trailing kisses on her neck, and along her shoulders.

"So you don't want to fuck me against that balcony?"

"Don't get it twisted. I'm going to fuck you against that balcony." You run a hand up from her hip, over her toned stomach, underneath the shirt, until it meets her breast. It fits perfectly like it was made just for you, and you feel her hardening nipple press against your palm.

"Then stop talking and put that mouth of yours to work."

"I'm gonna eat you until your legs give out," you whisper into her ear. She lets out a soft gasp just before you slide down to your knees, your hands on her ass. "Hands on the railing."

"Why?"

"Just, trust me," you reply. You hear a faint giggle and then feel her shift slightly, the skin of her palms pressing against the metal bars of the railing.

You push up the shirt, bunching it at the small of her back, baring her cute ass to the world. You plant kisses on her right cheek, biting gently, dragging your teeth across her smooth flesh. Your hands run down the backs of her thighs, fingers trailing up the inside until they reach their destination, her wet cunt. You feel the heat first, the warmth emanating from her, the dampness between her thighs. Your thumb runs along her slit and her legs buckle ever so slightly, her grip tightening on the railing.

You start slow, your thumb parting her, the tip running along her folds, stopping just short of her clit before repeating the pattern. She lets out a breathy moan, her body already responding to your touch. You continue to adorn her ass in kisses, your tongue leaving wet patches on her soft skin.

Winter rolls her hips, pushing herself against you. "Not quite the knee-buckling orgasm I was promised."

"You're so needy." You smile and take firm hold of her ass with both hands. "And annoying." You spread her open and run the flat of your tongue from the front to the back. She moans again, her back arching, pushing her ass further out, and you do the same thing once more, and again, and again. Until she's whining, and the muscles in her stomach tighten.

You eat Winter's ass as if you were starved of her like you hadn't already spent days doing exactly that, as if her taste were a drug you'd gone too long without. You lose yourself in her. You forget the world around the two of you. You're barely aware of your surroundings anymore; all that matters is having your face buried between her cheeks, your tongue in her hole, and the sounds coming out of her mouth. You're drunk on her.

"Fuck!" she moans. Her knuckles are turning white, and you know that she's trying to stop herself from reaching behind her, pulling you into her, grabbing fistfuls of your hair, and forcing you deeper.

You take a moment of respite, planting kisses over her soft cheeks. "You're gonna wake up the entire forest if you keep making noise," you say.

"Don't stop," she replies.

"Wasn't planning on it."

You dip back down, running your tongue over her hole, pressing harder this time. Her body shakes and shudders as she fights to stay upright. Her thighs are shaking and she's clenching, and you feel the pressure of her ring tightening as if she were trying to pull your tongue in.

The sun is beating down on both of you now, and the sweat rolls down your back. You can taste it on her too. A sheen on her skin, kissed by the morning sunlight, and there are droplets of sweat collecting in the dimples above her ass, which you make sure to kiss, too.

"Oh fuck, keep going." Winter's head drops and her hair cascades around her face. You reach around her, finding her pussy soaking, dripping. You dip your fingers in, pushing them past her folds. She's tight and wet, and so hot that it almost feels like your fingers might melt. Almost. Her hips buck and her breathing quickens. "Don't you fucking stop."

"Not planning to," you reply, muffled, your face pressed against her.

So here you are, middle of a forest, on the balcony of a rented cabin that feels as if it's a million miles away from society. Your girlfriend is standing with both hands gripping the metal bars of the balcony railing, naked, her head down, hair everywhere, back arched and pushing her ass back against your face. You're on your knees, hands on her hips, fingers inside her. Your mouth, lips, and tongue are worshipping her in a way that feels almost religious. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

She's going to cum. It's some sort of cosmic truth that you can feel, in the same way you know the sun is going to set tonight, and the moon will appear. She's going to cum on your fingers and on your tongue. She's going to shake and scream, and she'll have to sit down when you're done with her.

"Oh, I'm so close," she moans.

You don't respond. You simply redouble your efforts. You curl your fingers and you drag the tip of your tongue over her sensitive hole. Her breathing is ragged, and she's losing her mind. The muscles in her ass and thighs are tightening and her back is arched so hard that it looks painful. You feel her clench, and then her entire body is spasming as if electricity is coursing through her veins.

Winter lets out a string of curses as she cums on your fingers, your hand, your arm, the floor - she's making a mess of everything. And when it finally passes, and she's standing, shaking, you stand too, wrap her in your arms and pull her into an embrace. "I think my legs actually went weak." She's breathing hard and there are tears in her eyes, and she's looking at you with that same expression she always has after she's cum.

"Told you," you say.

"Yeah, well," she breathes hard, looking out over nature's beauty. "I'm still standing." You kiss the back of her neck again and you can't help but smile. It's the smile that only Winter can put on your face, and as the sun climbs higher in the sky, you're happy to be spending your days in this little piece of heaven.

"Good. It would have been a real shame if you gave up already. We have a whole morning, after all." You pull her shirt (Your shirt? The details are meaningless.) up roughly and expose her lithe body to the world. You pull it at her neck, using the bunched-up fabric to hold her in place. You press into the small of her back, bend her over the railing, and your hand wanders down to her hip.

"I'm surprised you have anything left to give after this week." Winter chuckles and pushes her ass against you. "Drained you dry and then some."

"Just keep your eyes on the road, will you?" Winter snaps.

"Kinda difficult with you doing that," you say.

"I mean it. Don't you dare crash. I don't want to be in the news as the idol who crashed with her boyfriend's cock in her mouth."

"It's not even in your mouth."

"Not yet." She flashes a mischievous smile as she strokes you.

"We've been on the road for less than twenty minutes and you're already on me," you laugh. "You can barely go an hour without me inside you."

"You weren't complaining earlier when I was riding you."

"I wasn't driving a high-speed hunk of metal down the highway then. , take it easy."

"I don't think I can. I've got my hands on your big cock, how am I meant to control myself?" Winter's hand runs down the entire length, from base to tip. "I just want it in me all the time."

"I'll pull over, okay?"

"Don't pull over." Winter's hand is replaced by her head in your lap. "Eyes on the road."

"Fuck," you say, as her tongue swirls around the tip. You can feel her hand gripping your cock tight. Her lips slide down to meet it. She's wet, warm, and so inviting that you find your eyes drifting down to watch, only to have to look back to the road.

Winter doesn't take your entire length in one go, no, she takes her time, teasing the tip of your cock before licking the entire length, base to top. It's a game for her, a game you love, but a game nonetheless. She wants you to cum, but she wants to drag it out for as long as she can.

Your hands are gripped tightly around the wheel, knuckles white. The urge to grab her head and push her down on your cock, to gag her with it, to have her choke on it, to use her pretty little face for nothing more than her own pleasure, it's overwhelming. "Just let me pull over," you say.

"No time. Eyes on the road."

The next ten minutes seem to last an hour. Winter's mouth is doing its magic, taking you deeper with every movement, taking more and more until the entire thing is down her throat. You hear her gag on it, feel the vibrations against the head, and your cock throbs in her mouth.

She pulls up with a pop and a gasp for air, and then she's at it again, bobbing up and down on it, her spit running down the sides of the shaft.

"Shit, keep doing that," you whisper. Winter's tongue runs over the head of your cock, and you're struggling to concentrate, but then it stops - the contact gone. "Fuck, Winter. Come on, I'm so close."

"I know." She says. "That's why I stopped." There's a glint in her eye, something you recognise.

"Oh come on, are you seriously-"

"Yep," she cuts you off, sitting back in the passenger seat. "My turn." She unbuttons her jeans and shimmies them down off her hips. Just enough so she can slip a hand under them.

"That's it. I'm pulling over."

"No! We'll be late. You have to keep driving," Winter moans as she begins to touch herself. Her legs spread wider and you watch her out of the corner of your eye.

"Winter..."

"I said eyes on the fucking road," she growls, her fingers picking up pace.

It's the most awkward fifteen minutes of your life, and it feels like you spend more of the time staring at her than at the road. Winter is panting, gasping, moaning. She's grinding her hips into the seat and she's thrown her head back, eyes shut, mouth agape. And her fingers are working her pussy like she's possessed.

She puts her leg up on the dash and sinks deeper into the seat. You can see how wet her cunt is from here. It glistens with the juices dripping out of her. Her nipples are poking through her shirt, and you want to pull over and fuck her brains out, but she keeps telling you no, so instead, you watch her finger herself in the passenger seat.

Winter's close, you can tell. Her breathing is shallow and ragged, and she's mumbling something under her breath, too quiet for you to hear. Her body starts to tremble and shake, and you're half-watching, half-driving when she finally cums. Hard. And she screams, and you swerve, and someone behind you blares their horn, and you can barely breathe. She looks like a mad woman. She's still writhing, grinding, and panting, her fingers rubbing circles on her clit, her back arching.

"This is torture," you whisper, eyes glued back to the road, heart thumping, palms sweating.

"I think I'm going to pass out," Winter breathes, slumping down in her seat. "Fuck that felt good."

"Great, now how about a fucking hand here?" you laugh, gesturing at your dick. It's throbbing, and aching, and it needs to be touched.

"Oh, right." She's out of breath, but she manages to pull her pants back on, button them up, and crawl back into your lap, her fingers wrapping around your shaft. "Guess I forgot."

"How convenient."

Winter wraps her lips around your cock again, and this time, she's more eager. Her tongue swirls around the tip while she moves her head up and down. You feel the pressure building in your abdomen, and the world is starting to blur. It's just her and her pretty pink lips wrapped around you. Her tongue is hot and wet and so fucking soft. And she's sucking you. She's moaning with your cock in her mouth, and it's sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

"You're hungry," you grunt.

"Mm-hmm," Winter responds. She shifts onto her knees on the passenger seat, her cute ass in the air and her mouth wrapped around your dick. Everyone you overtake could just glance over and see her. Tight jeans and a tighter ass; they'd be hard-pressed to look away. But you're not going to be pressing anything except her face into your cock. Your hand finds its way to the back of her head and you push down gently until the entire length is in her mouth.

"Winter..." you grunt with one hand on the wheel and one in her hair. She bobs her head, and you feel her gag and choke. Spit dribbles down the corners of her mouth and onto your lap, and her eyes water, but she doesn't stop, she just keeps going, and you feel yourself building up, getting closer.

Winter moans around you and the vibration sends shockwaves through you. It's so hard not to thrust up into her. She gags, and you feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat.

"Fuck, just like that. Keep doing that." Your knuckles are white, and Winter's eyes are watering. Your fingers grip her hair tighter, pushing down on her, and her eyes roll back, her body trembling.

You cum in her mouth. Your entire body tenses up, and the road disappears. Your eyes are shut, and your back arches off the chair, and your hand grips her head. You fill that pretty mouth with your hot cum. She sucks it down, greedily swallowing it all.

Your eyes snap open. You're lucky. You didn't crash. You're still on the road, and you're alive, and you've just cum harder than ever.

"Better?" Winter asks, popping off of you.

"Much better." You say, trying to regain your composure.

"Good." She smiles at you, wiping at her chin. "How'd you like to get home late?"

"Oh, so now we're pulling over?" You laugh. You find a turn and take it, then another, until you're parked, overlooking a field. Winter's hands are already exploring under your shirt, and she's kissing your neck.

"Gonna ride you so hard that you can't think straight for the rest of the day."

#winter smut #aespa smut #minjeong smut #aespa winter smut #aespa winter #kim minjeong #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

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emmyrosee · 8 months ago

Note

The “would you kiss me for $10 or the prettiest girl on the world for $1000?” trend with modern au bf sukuna 👀👀

dummy 🙄 sukuna???

SENT If you send me some fuck shit, hand to god

dummy 🙄 would you kiss me for $10

or kiss the prettiest girl ever for $1000???

SENT Depends on who the competition is

There's three dots that indicate you're typing, then they disappear. They reappear, and he chuckles as he imagines you, fighting for the words to come to your mind as he effortlessly, works your buttons. The dots disappear again, and this time, they stay gone. He quirks a brow at the lack of angry texts from you, only to then groan at the idea that this time, he's taken it too far, his jokes have gotten him nowhere, and he takes a deep breath in to keep himself cool in the dairy aisle at the convenience store.

SENT It was a joke, brat

I'd never want to kiss anyone else

Not when I get to kiss you for free, any time I want, you know that, right?

You merely put your phone on Do Not Disturb. He takes another deep breath in as he digs himself deeper into the hole of your wrath, and he quickly makes his way to the snack aisle, grabbing your favorite chips and heading straight for the candy aisle for an extra boost. By the time he's done, it looks like he's throwing a damn birthday party, but he can't bring himself to care. Not when you're at home, pouting over him.

By the time he gets home, you still haven't answered him. He braces himself for your silence as he unlocks the door and nudges it open with his knee. To his surprise, you're in the kitchen making tea, but there's a blanket covering your body with only your face peeking out.

"You look comfy," he hums, and you sneak a hand out of your cocoon to grab your mug of tea.

"Well since I'm so hideous and disgusting that even my own boyfriend doesn't want to kiss me, I've decided to become a recluse," you hiss, making your way back down the hall. "Don't follow me."

"You know I'm going to follow you," he scoffs, instantly following you down the hall into your shared bedroom. There's a blue light cascading over the walls from the tv, and the curtains are drawn shut. You put the tea on your side table and scuttle back into bed. He rolls his eyes and walks his way on your side of the bed. "Let me kiss you."

"Let me give you $10."

"I'm not taking $10-"

"Well someone has to," you snap. "At least, until you find someone just soooo much prettier than me, then you get even more money to kiss me with. Doesn't that sound like a good plan?"

"Babe, it was a joke-"

"And I'm not laughing."

He snarls his lip slightly before scooping his arms under you, hauling you up and onto his lap and ignoring your shoves and batting of hands. He wastes no time is pressing wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, relishing in how your body shakes trying to hold in your laughter.

“Don’t you ever-“ he kisses your temple firmly. “Deprive me-“ kissing your jawline. “Of your kisses.” His lips press to the corner of your mouth, and the hand not cradling your body comes up to grip your chin to hold you steady. “Brat.”

“Don’t tell me I’m not pretty then!” You whine.

“Of course you’re pretty,” he scoffs, pressing another kiss to your face. “I never said that. I would never say that. You’re the fucking prettiest. You’re mine. Of course you’re the prettiest.”

You go quiet, and he thinks you’re about to get mad at him again; however, you turn to rest your head on his shoulder, pressing a tiny kiss to his neck.

“Say more stuff like that,” you murmur.

He smirks, “there is no girl prettier than you. Trust me.” He turns his head to kiss your other cheek, squishing you slightly in the process. “Ive seen it all, baby. You’re the one. And even if someone tries to give me money to kiss you, I don’t fucking want it-“ he kisses you again. “Because I get to do it for free. And that shit’s priceless.”

“Softie,” you snort. He groans and turns his head to bite your cheek firmly, but his heart speeds up at the way you kick your feet out and flail them in protest. “Oww! I’m sorry, don’t bite!”

“I’m not a child nor a dog, woman,” he grumbles, but he does release your cheek and press a kiss to your brow bone in compensation. “No matter how you see me, anyways.”

“My feral little doggy,” you prod.

He yaks, but can’t help the smirk that curls on his cheeks from your laughter.

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spicyspiders · 8 months ago

Text

old man logan part 2

3.1k words

logan isn't as mean in this, but there are still moments when he is, like when he forces the reader to drink a glass of whisky he poured for him because he doesn't want him to waste it.

part 1

You wanted to give the guy a chance, but fuck, you just weren’t interested. You thought it’d be a good idea, after all, your mother told you she didn’t want you spending your whole summer at home. You assumed what she meant was a summer job, but you thought going on a date would be more entertaining.

It wasn’t really the guy’s fault though, your mind was much too occupied by the thought of Logan. It has been two weeks since then and your mind hasn’t stopped thinking about it since that day. The only interaction you’ve had with him since then was nods and glances when you saw him outside.

A week after that day, you learned of his change of heart. It became much louder outside after Logan returned all of the lost toys in his backyard, much happier. You even made a comment about it to your date.

“That was sweet of him,” the man said from across the table at the bar.

“Yeah. It sure was,” you responded, trying not to smile too hard.

“Why do you think he had a change of heart?” Your date asked.

You quickly changed the subject after he asked, not wanting to give anymore details away. “Sorry,” you pointed to one of your ears, “it’s pretty loud in here.”

”Do you wanna,” he pointed at the door, his eyes bright under the light of the bar.

You nodded and gathered your things to pay your tab, the sweet taste of the drink you had earlier was still at the back of your throat. Only having one drink at the bar meant it was easy to come up with another excuse to get in your car and drive home.

The man looked disappointed, but he quickly perked up after you pressed a kiss to his cheek with the promise of next time whispered into his ear.

“How was your date?” Logan asked when you got out of your car, “not so good I guess since you’re home before sundown,” he let out a cruel laugh.

“It was just one drink,” you responded as you shut your car door.

“What,” he tossed the rag he had just cleaned his motorcycle with over his shoulder, “he not want to invite you inside for a nightcap?”

”A nightcap?” You grimaced, “how old are you?”

Logan chuckled, “don’t get mad at me,” he said, stepping closer and into your driveway, “I’m sure he would’ve invited you in if he knew how easy you were,” he said quietly, not close enough for you to smell the cleaner on the rag.

“Next time he’ll know,” you said, crossing your arms.

The laugh Logan lets out is loud and booming, much too loud for the time of evening it was, “you’re telling me,” Logan says once he’s gotten his laughing under control, “you don’t put out on the first day?”

“I do when I want to. My mind’s been just a little,” you pause, looking away from Logan’s eyes and definitely not down to his lips, “occupied.”

“Why don’t we go inside and talk about it,” Logan whispers.

Logan wastes no time getting his hands on you once you’re behind his door. His hands are warm on your hips as he presses you into the door. The kiss is not at all like the one you pressed to your date’s cheek earlier, it’s rough and messy and just what you expected.

“What’d you drink earlier?” Logan panted after pullings away from the kiss, “it tastes like you swallowed a pound of candy,” he says, looking disgusted.

“That’s how I like my drinks. Besides, I only had one,” you watched as Logan stepped back and walked to his kitchen, “it shouldn’t be that bad!” You yelled at his back.

You could hear the sound of cabinets slamming and glass hitting the counter before Logan’s voice followed he sound, “get in here.” He spoke again after you were beside him leaning against the countertop, “I’m putting you on the good stuff. None of that sugary bullshit,” he said as he poured a glass of whisky.

“I think you just wanted an excuse to drink,” you said as he moved to the second glass.

“I don’t need an excuse to drink. I’m a grown man, and so are you. You’re too old for that-”

”Sugary bullshit,” you say, cutting him off, rolling your eyes, “I know.”

“A toast,” Logan says after picking up his glass, “to trying new things.”

You weren’t going to tell Logan you’ve had whisky before, but you play up your reaction just to save his ego. You cough even though you’re used to the burn and make a face of disgust even though you’re used to the taste.

With a laugh, Logan claps a hand on your back, “it’s not a shot, you’re supposed to savor it,” which was ironic for him to say given how quickly he drank his. With his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle, he looked at you expectantly.

”What,” you snapped.

“Drink it,” Logan commanded, “you don’t waste my whiskey.”

“You drink it,” you said back.

Slowly, Logan takes the glass as he steps in front of you and crowds you up against the counter. His eyes stay locked to yours as he takes the rest of what was in your glass into his mouth. You wait for him to swallow, but instead he wraps his other hand around the back of your neck and gets in real close.

“Open,” he says around the liquid in his mouth.

You have no choice but to comply, especially when his hand tightens on the back of his neck. The whisky trickles into your mouth, along your tongue, and then down your throat in a warm path. You lick your lips, the tip touching Logan’s as you try to gather the bit that fell from the side of your mouth.

Logan’s thumb gathers it before he pushes it into your mouth, “good boy,” he murmurs when you suck the taste from his skin.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth and then back down your chin where the liquid had dripped, leaving another wet trail. He kisses you again, this time much slower. His tongue runs along yours and all you can taste is a mix of whisky and something that is all Logan.

“You really are easy,” Logan says when he pulls away from the kiss, one of his hands moving to your hard cock tenting your pants, “look at how hard you are,” he says like he’s in awe of a brilliant discovery. “Bedroom?” He asks with a smirk.

“Wouldn’t standing for too long hurt your back?” You respond, biting back your smile as you watch his smirk fall.

“Little fuckin’ smartass,” Logan grumbles as he hoists you over his shoulder, “I gotcha,” he says at your noise of surprise, making sure to pat your ass for good measure.

“I can walk,” you say to him after you’re thrown onto his bed.

”Not after this,” Logan responds, swooping down to mash your lips together. With his knee, he made space between your legs for his body and used his hands to lift your legs and get them around his waist.

You moaned into the next kiss Logan initiated as he rolled his hips to grind your cocks together. For what felt like hours, Logan thrust your cocks together through your clothes. It made you feel like a teenager again, especially with how close you felt when Logan finally pulled away to pull his shirt off.

You wanted to look over to see if you could see into Logan’s closet to see if tank tops were all he wore. You’d give him props though if they were at least different colors. It’s too bad Logan’s chest was too distracting.

You ran your fingers up Logan’s chest, gliding through his dark chest hair until you reached his broad shoulders. You used them as a sturdy purchase to pull yourself up to get your mouth against his again. You ran your nails down Logan’s back and he pulled back and let out a noise of pain which had your cock throbbing.

Free from the kiss, you leaned down to the expanse of Logan's neck to bite at the skin. Above you, Logan moaned when you ran your tongue along the mark you just bit into his skin, the flesh tasting like sweat.

Logan pulled you back face to face with a hand on the back of your neck. His breaths hit your face as he panted from the pleasure, his eyes dark and full of lust. He pressed a chaste kiss to your kiss before pulling away again to get your clothes off.

“No underwear?” He asked, a smile stretching out across his face.

“You didn’t have any on either,” you responded. Logan’s hard cock bobbed in the air between your bodies, but he didn’t let you touch it as he pushed you back down onto the bed once your shirt was off.

“I’m in my own home,” Logan said as he wrestled your pants off and threw them into the pile of your clothes.

“You were outside when I got home,” you said, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss.

“I was waiting for you,” Logan said against your mouth after he pulled away, “you’ve been ignoring me,” he said, nipping at your bottom lip.

”I’ve been busy,” you said before grabbing two handfuls of Logan’s ass to get your cock against his. Your head fell back into one of the pillows on Logan’s bed as your cocks rubbed together, making a mess of precum.

”Whoring yourself out,” Logan said into the column of your neck before he bit harshly into the skin. He held himself up on his forearm, his other being used to go between your legs, past your cock and to your hole.

He groaned around the skin between his teeth as he circled the pad of his finger around the tight furl of your hole, “you’re fuckin’ killing me,” Logan said, his forehead falling to your neck. “This all for me?” He asked, almost mockingly.

“Sometimes I like doing the shower if I’m home alone,” you say with a groan when Logan rubs your cocks together again.

“Yeah? You gotta go fast before mommy and daddy get home?” Logan asks as he presses the edge of his finger to the opening. “Who were you thinkin’ about hmm?” He asks, looking at you with his dark eyes.

“You thinkin’ about that guy you were gonna go on a date with as you took your shower this morning?” Logan asked, his finger touching your hole, but not yet pressing inside. “Or me? Cause you already knew he wasn’t going to satisfy you,” Logan says, finally pressing his finger inside.

Logan’s finger met the remnants of the lube you weren’t able to wash from your hole, slicking the way so that his finger could go all the way to the hilt. He moved his finger slowly, not pulling it out, but instead moving it around enough for you to become accustomed to it.

He leaned down to kiss you just as slowly as he worked his finger, his tongue moving to the rhythm of his finger as he mapped out your mouth. He pulled his tongue from your mouth as his finger left and swallowed the soft noise you let out.

Quickly Logan left and came back with a bottle of lube after rifling through his nightstand. Back on the bed, he got behind you and got you onto your side and lifted one of your legs up and rested it against his muscular bicep.

His finger, now wet with lube, touched the edge of your hole, spreading lube along the skin. It glided inside as Logan pressed his lips to yours. He kissed and kissed and kissed you as he got you ready for his cock that laid on his thigh.

The only interruption to your lips was when Logan found your prostate with his two fingers. “There we are,” Logan whispered after he pulled away. For a moment, he fucked his two fingers into your prostate, milking the bundle of nerves until your cock gushed precum.

You felt full by the third finger, not thinking you could take more, but when you looked down at Logan’s cock, everything in you wanted to try. Logan’s fingers went to your chin to turn your face away and back to kiss him, and all you could focus on was pleasure as his fingers on your prostate turned your brain to mush.

After Logan pulled his fingers free from your hole, he rolled you onto your stomach. He pressed kisses to the side of your neck, right on your hammering pulse as he slicked up his cock. Logan pressed his sweaty forehead to the back of your head as he lined his cock up to your hole.

You bit into the pillow as the head of Logan’s cock entered your hole. If it felt intense, the rest of the length of cock was damn near overwhelming. You sobbed into the pillow when Logan bottomed out, clenching on his cock as you tried to adjust.

“Fuckin’ hell, bub,” Logan groaned as he let his weight fall on top of you.

“Don’t,” you started, but your words fell into a moan when Logan circled his hips, “call me bub while your dick is inside me.”

“What should I call you then? Boy?” He asked, his breaths hitting your ear, “you gonna be a good boy and take my cock?” He questioned, pulling his cock from your hole. “Or should I call you my bitch,” he said as he bottomed out again, “you already take me so well and we’ve just gotten started.”

Every time Logan pulled out and thrust back in, you could swear you could feel his cock in your stomach, like he was carving out a spot inside you just for him. His hips slapped against your ass as he held you down with his hands on your hips, selfishly taking his pleasure through the use of your body.

“Fuckin, wanted you since I first saw you,” Logan said after he thrust all the way inside and ground his hips on your ass, getting his cock as deep as it could go, “knew you would take my cock so well,” he said, biting into your shoulder.

He roughly flipped you over and placed one of your legs on his shoulder. His cock was back inside with a swift thrust, Logan’s hand on the ankle on his shoulder. Once all the way in, he pressed his lips to your ankle and then nearly bent you in half to get his lips on yours again.

Again and again Logan pulled his cock from your body to thrust it back inside, and again and again Logan’s cock would nail your prostate. Since the brush of his fingers, there was a burn in your stomach, one that Logan made grow brighter and hotter.

“This everything you wanted?” Logan asked, not even giving you the chance to answer before he had his lips on yours. You moaned into each other’s mouths when Logan’s hand wrapped around your hard cock and stroked to the thrusts of his hips.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave of the coldest water, washing over the burn Logan started. The force of it had your back arching off the bed into Logan’s body as stripes of white spurted messily over his fist and between your bodies.

Logan answered the moans you let out with ones of his own as you clenched down on his cock over and over again, and it wasn’t long until his thrusts came to a halt. Logan came with a shout, his arms wrapping around your body as he let his weight fall on top of you once more. His body gave involuntary twitches as the aftershocks hit and whimpers of pleasure fell from his mouth and into the crook of your neck where his head was buried.

You raised a hand and ran your fingers through Logan’s sweaty hair, the man raising his head at the contact. He kissed you softly, taking in the soft noise you let out as he shifted and his cock slipped free. After one last kiss, he lifted himself up and walked from the room.

You stretched out like a cat on Logan’s bed, your cock twitching when you felt Logan’s cum leak from your hole.

“Comfortable?” Logan asked after he returned, your face smushed into a pillow.

Like earlier, you could hear the clink of glasses being set down, but new was the sensation of a warm cloth on your skin. You just hoped it wasn’t the one he used to clean his motorcycle earlier.

“Should I clean you with this?” Logan asked, his lips dragging along your neck. Warm drops hit your back, making you gasp, “or my mouth?”

”What type of lube did you use? Strawberry lube doesn’t taste too bad,” you said tiredly into the pillow.

“Slut,” Logan responded, sounding almost fond as he wiped you down. “I should take a picture before I clean you up,” he said to himself but loud enough for you to hear after spreading your asscheeks to look at your fucked out hole.

You rolled over when Logan turned you over with a hand on your hip to get your front. You hissed as the wet warmth came into contact with your soft cock. “Ah,” you moaned at the overstimulation.

“Hush,” Logan commanded, “you can take it,” he whispered, his body inching closer when your hips came off the bed. “That’s my boy,” Logan praised once you relaxed back onto the bed.

He left once more to toss the rag away before he joined you back on the bed. He reached onto the bedside table for the bottle of whisky and glasses he brought up. It was quiet for a few moments as he poured you each a glass, save for the hum of the air conditioner.

“You gonna see him again?” Logan asked after he took a sip.

You glanced over at Logan, watching how his eyes were trained on the sloshing liquid in the glass, “something came up,” you responded, smiling down into your glass before you raised it and took a sip.

Logan shifted closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He raised his glass and you clinked yours with his before you both took another sip.

#x male reader #x male reader smut #logan howlett x male reader #logan howlett x male reader smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x male reader smut #wolverine x male reader #wolverine x reader

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whytheylosttheirminds · 1 month ago

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Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 9 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x reader series, 5.5k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter content warning: description of a panic attack, descriptions of reckless drinking and driving a golf cart while drunk (don't do this!)

“Rafe? Rafe are you okay? Rafe!!”

It grows like a tidal wave, slowly at first, seemingly harmless, just another wave swallowing the horizon before it inevitably bows to the shore. He couldn’t see its power, the enormity of it, its impending destruction, until it was too late. He ran, like he could beat it if his feet moved fast enough. At least he could get out of the house before it hit him, away from any bystanders who could get caught in the riptide. Away from the embarrassment and awkward stares.

But he’d forgotten about Cassie and Sabrina, still out on the beach, close enough to see his powerful body fold and crumple into the hot sand, close enough to hear his unsuccessful gasps for air as the panic attack took over.

It wasn’t until he heard her voice that he realized he was crying. The tears were hot on his cheeks, falling quickly and swirling together with the salty sweat that no longer had anything to do with exercise. His breaths were still coming, but in painful, heaving gulps, getting lost somewhere in his scratchy throat before they could get to his chest. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might break a rib.

As waves crashed on the shore ahead of him, strobing, painful thoughts slammed into him at the same unrelenting pace. His hand clutched helplessly at the hot sand, trying to fight his way through the flashes of memory that broke over him with each swell of the tide.

A rusty school bus, pigtails. Small, shy. Hi. Charts and tubes, fluttering eyelids, heavy hand on his shoulder. Rafe, it’s time now, son. No, don’t go, please don’t go. A county fair, clowns and cotton candy. Bright eyes in the ferris wheel lights. A falling ball he can’t get to, a thunk in the grass. Dark dorm room, only the light of a laptop for sight. We’ve decided to pass, maybe next year. Books on the basement floor, fuzzy socks grazing his left thigh. Sunrise, soft skin, sighing into his mouth. Hands together, then not. Pizza box, pulling away. I hate you.

Even the broken breaths stopped coming, it was all too much, too too much. Someone was next to him in the sand, saying his name, but he couldn't, he didn’t, there wasn’t…nothing was working. A hand grazed the back of his neck, guiding his head between his knees. Voice again, one, two, three, count with me Rafe. And like it belonged to someone else, he heard his own voice - four, five, six…

Seagulls squawked above him like there was absolutely nothing of interest happening on the beach besides a recently spilled bag of trail mix. He could taste the sea on his tongue as he inhaled, oxygen fighting its way in between his parted lips, finding a way, despite it all, finding a way.

The splotches and stars behind his slammed shut eyes started to dissipate, his hands releasing the hot sand slowly but surely. She was still counting, he was trying, it was finally passing. It always passes eventually, a familiar, comforting voice in the back of his mind reminds him.

“What do you need? Can I do anything?” Cassie asks when he finally lifted his head, eyes still closed, but breath returned to something near a normal pace.

“Yeah, actually… Can you call my sister?”

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The ride to the country club was painfully quiet. Jack’s family business sent a 15-passenger van to shuttle you all. The awkward silence could probably be attributed to the fact that you’d either brutally insulted or made out with all of your fellow travelers in the past twenty-four hours. Every time someone said anything to you, they hesitated as though you were holding your sharpened tongue to their neck while they spoke. You’d managed to go from being Carter’s awkward little sister to someone they all feared in just one morning.

Everyone except Rafe, that is. He wasn’t casting sidelong glances in your direction when you so much as coughed like everyone else, in fact, his eyes weren’t even open most of the drive there. He rode with his head tipped back on the seat, chest rising and falling in slow, even movements under his t-shirt, his apparent calm after the chaotic interaction you’d had earlier put you on edge.

After a long, eventful week, your crew walked into the marble floored foyer of the fancy club looking a bit ragged. Almost immediately after the doorman closed the massive oak doors behind you, the crisp uniform-ed attendant hurried over from his spot behind the large front desk, clearly flustered by your noisy arrival.

“Welcome to the Robinson Country Club of Miami,” he began his spiel nervously. “I’m so sorry, but we do have a dress code for our club and golf course. We don’t allow non-collared shirts, denim or sandals. We do have many suitable options available for purchase in our pro-shop, however.”

You looked down at your outfit - a t-shirt, jean shorts, and flip flops. Three strikes.

The rest of the group was split between the appropriately dressed girls (the other girls had raided Maddie's many suitcases for tennis skirts and polos), and the boys who were just as underdressed as you - basketball shorts where you were sure the young man lecturing you was hoping for khakis.

“It’s okay man, I’m uh, Jack,” Jack leaned forward for the next part, “Jack Robinson. My family owns this club.”

Fighting back a cringe at the disgustingly pompous tone he’d used, you scanned the lobby for evidence of the aforementioned pro-shop.

“Mr. Robinson, hello,” the young man replied, straightening his posture a bit. “We are so thrilled to have you and your guests. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I must insist on proper attire, it’s club policy.”

Jack opened his mouth to rebut, but you held up a hand to cut him off, not sure you could handle another arrogant remark aimed at this guy who was just trying to do his job.

“It’s cool,” you waved him off, turning toward the desk attendant. “Where’s the pro-shop?”

“The women’s is just to my right down the hall, and the men’s is toward the back leading out to the patio.”

“Great, thanks,” you nodded, noting his sheer relief not to have to scold his boss’ son any further. Turning to Carter and the girls you added, “I’ll just grab something and meet y’all out there.”

Grateful for a reason to separate yourself from the group you weren’t sure you wanted to be a part of anymore, you browsed the neatly sorted shelves of the women’s pro-shop. Mostly shoes and golf accessories, your options for a total outfit makeover were severely limited. The attendant, a girl who couldn’t have been much older than you, smiled politely as you browsed, clearly eager for some human interaction in the empty storefront.

“Anything I can help you with? We just got in the new line of skorts from Lulu if you’d like me to pull something in your size,” she offered, her smile wide and blindingly white.

As much as you wanted to be left alone, you actually did need her help, for reasons you weren’t psyched to divulge to a total stranger.

“Actually…this is weird but uh, do you have anything that’ll cover my neck?” You motioned to the area just barely covered by your t-shirt collar. “I have, uh…a rash.”

You’d always been a terrible liar, and you could tell by the way her lips twisted into a conspiratorial smile that she saw right through your request.

“Girl, I’ve been there,” she whispered, her voice suddenly dropping a few octaves and losing its honey glazed customer service squeak. “I’ll find something that’ll cover your, uh, rash.”

With a cheeky wink you didn’t care for at all, she left your side and walked around the small shop, returning quickly to hold up a short white dress with a high mock-neck. Not something you’d wear in the real world in a million years, you could only imagine the looks your friends at school would give you over the frilly little skirt and pleated lines.

“Looks like this is the only high-necked item we have,” She handed you the dress, which you took with a polite smile. “Scoop necks are really in this season, you know?”

“I didn’t, but this’ll work, thanks.”

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The rain from earlier in the week left a humid haze hanging in the air, the country club’s golf course blindingly green under the blistering Florida sun. You were cranky the second you stepped outside the cool women’s locker room, the sneakers you were forced to buy from the pro-shop too-tight and the overall chip on your shoulder freshly sharpened.

Then there was the dress. It was shorter and tighter than it had looked on the hanger, the tips of your fingers alternating between pulling the hem down fruitlessly and tugging at the tight material on your stomach, unsuccessfully trying to create some give.

Maddie and Sabrina didn’t even try to hide their wide eyes, while Cassie gave you the most condescending looks of sympathy you’d ever received. You weren’t sure which you hated more.

“Bitch, you look hot as fuck,” Carter playfully swatted your butt, which was practically hanging out of the mini skirt. She tugged at the high collar of the dress, “you should show off a little cleavage though, let those girls breathe.”

Panicked she’d see the secret the tight fabric was concealing, you swatted her hand away a little harder than you’d intended.

“Sorry, but just like, stop,” you said under your breath, hoping the other girls wouldn’t hear you snap at your sister, something you almost never did.

“Geez, okay,” she threw her hands up. “I’m just teasing. You’re a little tense today.”

“And your a little annoying today,” you’d meant it to be playful, you really had, but there was an edge of truth to it that took Carter aback, stepping away from you with hurt in her eyes that you instantly felt guilty for.

Across the patio, the boys stepped out of the men’s locker room, rented club bags slung over their shoulders and ridiculously bright pastel polos glowing against the vivid green backdrop of the crisp, manicured grass on the course.

You eyed Rafe in his bright blue polo and skinny khaki pants, he and pink-polo-clad Topper standing next to each other looking like the tacky decorations at a gender reveal party. Kelce, Tom, and Jack stood close by, adorned in similar outfits, theirs in the ugliest shades of purple, orange, and yellow you’d ever seen.

“Not bad, right?” Topper asked once the whole group had gathered outside the locker room doors, holding his arms out to display his pink Tidal polo and matching hat. “We basically bought out the whole pro shop. How do we look?”

“Like the power puff girls,” you snorted, hand raised to block your squinting eyes from the punishing sun.

You meant it to insult all of them, but you kept your eyes fixed on Rafe as you said it, hoping it stung him most of all. But he just smirked, the jerk. The perfect, impossibly handsome jerk.

“Believe it or not, you’re not the first person who’s called us that,” he chuckled, swinging the heavy bag of rented golf clubs up over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

The interaction, your first words to each other since the fight in your bedroom, left you feeling oddly dissatisfied. It wasn’t fair to tell him it was over and then secretly hope he’d at least look a little flustered by the way this dress was hugging your body, but your typical rationality and clear-headedness had apparently flown out the window somewhere on the drive to Miami.

The group dispersed, pairing off as they headed toward the first tee. Rafe followed after Jack, passing you as you scanned the busy course for the golf cart rental area.

“Have a good game,” he offered politely, as though you were just casual acquaintances who didn’t know what each other’s lips felt like.

“Yeah, you too, Bubbles,” you threw over your shoulder, leaving him delightfully confused as you sauntered toward the golf carts with a petty smirk.

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“Hey, wanna share?”

Carter appeared at your side, her voice an octave higher than usual as she intercepted your beeline for the golf cart stand. If you were gonna be forced to play a game you weren’t really good at in an outfit you hated on the hottest Memorial Day weekend in recent history, you damn sure weren’t about to walk all eighteen holes.

She was trying hard to get on your good side after your prickly interaction a few minutes ago, her anxious hovering and forced cheeriness driving you even crazier than you felt before.

“I’m fine with walking.”

You kicked yourself mentally, the thought of walking all eighteen holes in this unforgiving heat made you die a little inside, but you were already growing tired of dropping passive aggressive hints that you wanted her to leave you alone, and the afternoon had barely begun.

Part of you wished you and Carter were the kind of sisters that just got into knock-down drag-out fights and then got over it, instead of this uneasy, passive aggressive tug-of-war you were currently in. You’d both run from confrontation since your parents had made your childhood so fraught with their own fighting, but as she continued to push at the wall you were putting up with her, you wondered if maybe they had it right - maybe you should just yell at each other and get it over with.

Before she could try any more tactics to get you to talk to her, Sabrina appeared with Cassie, and two barely-eighteen-year-old boys with moony eyes and country club uniforms a size too big.

“We got caddies,” Sabrina said, slipping the taller of the two a ten dollar bill. “This is Ryder and Chad, they just graduated high school and they’re both going to Princeton in the Fall.”

You rolled your eyes, every word out of her mouth making you cringe, even when she wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. Both sets of the boy’s eyes drifted from her, to your great surprise and immense discomfort, to you. As they eyed you up and down shamelessly, clearly standing straighter and flexing a bit, the tall one leaned down to murmur something in the ear of his buddy, both failing miserably to hide their smirks.

“I’ll carry my own clubs,” you rolled your eyes, turning from the group and grabbing a rented bag, dragging it up the hill toward the first tee.

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Carter watched you struggle your way up the hill with her arms crossed over her chest, lips twisted and brow crumpled like she could will you back down with her mind.

“Careful, or your face is gonna get stuck like that.”

Topper approached slowly, stepping in her eyeline to pull her thoughts from you. With a sweet grin he added, “which would be bad for me, because I like your face a lot.”

“Do you?” Carter played along, though her voice was a bit faded, thoughts still far from him.

He craned his neck to follow her gaze, seeing you for just a second before you slipped out of view over the hill with your clubs.

“Everything okay?” He questioned, nodding his head toward the place you’d just disappeared from.

“I don’t know,” she frowned again, “She’s sworn to me three times today that nothing, y’know happened between her and Rafe, but I just feel like she’s hiding something from me.”

“Well,” he proceeded with caution, handing the caddy at the cart stand his credit card, “is it the worst thing in the world if they did hook up? I mean they’re both adults, and,” his voice lowered as he trailed his fingers down her arm, landing low to lightly pinch at the hem of her skirt, “it’s not like they’re the only ones who’ve gotten together on this trip.”

Carter gave into his flirting for just a second, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as they both silently thought about the intimate afternoon they’d shared after the jet ski fiasco. But before she could reach out and touch him back, the caddy returned with a cart, and Carter stepped back fast, brushing Topper’s hand away, more forceful than she’d intended, leaving a sting behind where she’d smacked it.

Hurt flashed across his eyes, momentarily taking his hat off to run his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Seriously?” He scoffed.

Carter was immediately sorry.

“Topper, I’m sorry, you just-“

“Me? What’d I do this time, Carter? Loved you a little too much? Been too nice to you? Made you smile in public?” He took the keys from the caddy with an appreciative nod. “What do I ever do but wait for you, cook for you, compliment you, and go along with whatever you want? And all you do is jerk me around and pretend it annoys you. You know what? I hope Rafe did finally make a move, at least one couple should end this trip together.”

He got in the cart and turned it on, driving away from her before she was able to get in the passenger seat.

“Topper, wait, I’m sorry!” she called after him, but he was already gone.

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Your very first swing landed you in the sand traps.

It was a welcome excuse to separate yourself from the group and were you ever hooked up to a lie detector, saying you didn’t do it on purpose might not pass. You gave up on wheeling your worn down rented golf bag through the course, pretty much just dragging it behind you at this point. The other golfers were probably laughing at you, a sad sight as you trudged past them, already sweating and oh-so-over this whole excursion.

Approaching the sand trap, you heard a comically weak horn honk from behind you, turning to see Topper approaching in his golf cart, Carter noticeably missing from the seat next to him.

“Hey li-“

You cut off his carrying voice before it could even reach you.

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘little Carter’ I will run you over with your own golf cart.”

He pivoted, the syllables he almost said still hanging on the tip of his tongue.

“Lil…shawty. Is what I was going to say,” the doubting look you gave him only made him double down. “Hey lil’ shawty, what’s good?”

You didn’t think it was possible for someone to make you laugh on this god awful day, but you cracked a smile at that, making Topper beam with pride.

“Ride with me,” he offered, not leaving room for you to turn down as he climbed from the cart and threw your clubs in the back.

“On one condition,” you said.

“What’s that?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You don’t make me dig my ball out of that sand trap.”

Without missing a beat, he pulled something from his pocket, leaning down as though he’d just discovered it on the ground.

“Wow, so crazy that I found your ball right here!” He tossed it to you with a wink and you gave him a grateful grin.

You slipped into the seat, your too-short skirt making your sweaty legs slide on the vinyl seat. Those caddies could eyefuck you all they wanted, nothing about this outfit made you feel sexy.

“Worn out already?” He nodded toward your hand which was rubbing soothing circles into your calf muscle, sore from the walking already. “Bad news ‘cause we’ve got seventeen holes to go.”

“Good thing I have a strapping young chauffeur to cart me around then,” you patted his arm and he started up the cart.

“I got you sis.”

It was a nickname he’d called you in high school, always joking that he and Carter would get married, which she’d of course pretend to be annoyed by, smiling to herself in secret when she thought you couldn’t see. Now when he said it, a sadness singed the edges of the word. You gave him a frown, but he looked away, clearly wanting to avoid addressing the sadness you saw in his eyes.

You rode in silence for a few minutes as he caught up with the rest of your group at the second tee. When he pulled up, neither of you got out, sitting silently by each other, watching the rest of the group crowd around the tee.

Carter and Maddie were taking a selfie, holding up their clubs for the camera as Sabrina and Cassie compared outfits next to them. Behind them, Rafe lined up his shot, the other guys standing off to the side in polite reverence, taking the game entirely too seriously.

Topper watched Carter while you watched Rafe. The silence between you was palpable. Rafe finally took his swing, strong arms coming down hard as his broad torso twisted, leaving you no choice to think about how it had felt below you in the car, and how it looked towering over you in your bedroom earlier today.

Somewhere in Topper’s mind, you were sure he was having similar unwelcome flashbacks as Carter stretched her arms over her head, twisting her hips as she prepared for her turn at the tee. Truthfully, the two of you could not have picked more beautiful people to break your hearts.

As though your thoughts were connected, Topper finally broke the silence, noting sarcastically “well we’re just a two man party over here aren’t we?”

You huffed a laugh, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap as an excuse to pull your eyes away from Rafe.

“Did you, um,” he struggled with the words, your narrowed eyes shooting up to him as you waited for the end of his question curiously. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

Topper cleared his throat, “what you said earlier in your bedroom? Do you really think I’m so used to being rejected that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if she finally admitted she loved me?”

You winced at the sound of your own cruel words being replayed back to you. You’d pulled no punches when Topper was just attempting to cheer you up, justifying your pettiness by blaming Rafe for your shitty mood. To his credit, Topper didn’t just lay down and take it, he put up his best fight.

“I don’t know. Did you really mean it when you said I can’t let him love me because I don’t actually love myself?” There was no malice in your tone, but a gentle reminder that he’d dished it out just as good as he got served.

His fallen face and avoidance of your eyes told you he regretted it just as much as you did, and your lean across the seat to bump his shoulder playfully told him all was forgiven. Siblings fight, after all.

As your gazes scanned back over Rafe and Carter, another cart came rolling past, stopping a few yards from where the two of you sat. A refreshment cart.

“Wanna get like, stupid, sloppy drunk with me?” You suggested bluntly.

He was already turning the wheel in the direction of the drink cart, “you read my mind, lil’ shawty, you read my mind.”

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In the least surprising turn of events in human history, Topper Thornton didn’t handle his liquor well. Just a couple of Mai Tai’s and he was a menace on the green, heckling swings and laughing so loudly at his own jokes, groups of golfers all around the course were turning to look at you with disapproving glares.

You, however, were in the golden glow of the first few drinks, when your body starts to buzz with ease and you wonder why everyone isn’t always a little drunk all the time. Your swings came easy, they weren’t great, but you could at least still see straight enough to keep the ball on the fareway, unlike Topper, who made so many divots you wondered if he’d get a bill in the mail from Jack’s family.

Topper drove from tee to tee, his driving becoming increasingly sloppier with each drink he threw back. You smiled in amusement from the passenger side as a tipsy Topper attempted to wax poetic about his love for Carter and steer the cart straight at the same time. You were at least pacing yourself, something he wasn’t even attempting, still sipping on his straw even as he drove. He’d gone straight to rum, while you started slow with a hard seltzer.

“She’s just so different when we’re alone, y’know?” Topper shouted to you, about fifty decibels louder than was necessary for you to hear him. “It’s just like.. Okay it’s like… you know what it’s like?”

You just laughed, trying not to let your drink slosh onto your new tennis dress as he swerved around a sand trap, Topper slurring through some kind of declaration next to you that you couldn’t understand if you wanted to.

“It’s like, we’re mates,” he finally landed on.

“Ew! I’m gonna need to drink like ten more of these before I can stand hearing about you and my sister mating,” you grimaced.

“No! No, you’re not, ugh,” he grabbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers after throwing the cart in a jerky park. “You don’t get it.”

You climbed out of the cart, finally catching up to the rest of the group at the fourth tee after taking a long detour to collect your balls from the edge of the lake.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m trying,” you tried to assure him. “But dude, you're wasted already.”

Topper took a deep breath, as if that would sober him up, climbing from the cart with some difficulty.

“I’m not wasted, I’m just having fun,” he shook your shoulders, his strength making your whole body stumble around, “we both deserve to have some fun! Are you having fun yet?”

You laughed loudly, thoroughly enjoying the fun you were indeed having with him, but your smile dropped fast when Carter broke from the group and approached the two of you.

“What’s going on over here?” She said in forced friendliness, trying to jump in on the revelry.

“Oh nothing,” you sipped your drink to avoid her eye contact.

“Sounds like something’s funny,” she pushed. God, why was she pushing? And why was her presence, usually the most welcome thing to you, suddenly so bothersome?

“Topper was just telling me how you two are mates,” you informed her with a teasing grin.

“Dude!” Topper turned to you with a look of pure betrayal in his glassy eyes. “I told you that in confidence!”

“It’s okay,” Carter laughed, genuinely trying to reassure him with a hand on his arm. “I don’t take anything you say when you’re drunk seriously.”

Her attempt to make him feel better backfired, he pulled his arm from her, shocking her with the aggressive movement.

“That’s the problem! You don’t take me seriously!” He slurred at her.

“Okay, calm down Top, I’m just kidding, it’s not that deep,” she shushed him.

As they broke into a classic Topper/Carter argument, you rolled your eyes, sipping your drink and accepting ruefully that your fun hang with Topper had come to an end - once they started fighting like this, the rest of the world might as well be dead to them.

While the sweet grapefruit flavor of your drink slipped between your lips, your eyes found Rafe. He was standing back from the tee, watching Jack’s swing analytically, leaning on his own club with one leg crossed over the other, toe in the grass and his free hand casually tucked in his pocket.

With Carter and Topper distracted by the sound of their own voices, and your brain humming with the delightful effects of alcohol, you indulged yourself in the sight of him. Letting your eyes rake over his frame shamelessly, you bit your lip as you noted the vein running along his tan forearm, leading up to the dip of a toned bicep, just a little too defined for the tight sleeve of his polo. When he reached up to adjust his cap, the sleeve rode up, revealing more of his toned arm to you. The muscle was just firm enough that he had to tug at the sleeve to get it to slide back over it, and you nearly fell over with lust.

“I’m gonna need something stronger,” you mumbled to no one in particular, leaving your can of White Claw in the cart as you searched the course for the cart girl.

Switching to a double vodka cran, light on the cran, you sipped your drink as you followed the rest of the group down the green. In their argument, Carter had confiscated Topper’s cart keys, declaring him officially too drunk to drive, a comment that only sparked another round of arguments you were ignoring.

But your eyes stayed on Rafe. It wasn’t just his body you were watching (though when he squatted low to line up his putt, you may have muttered something obscene under your breath) but his whole affect, his easy confidence, the way he carried himself, the little mannerisms you’d memorized and could never forget no many how many drinks you had.

He’d cross his arms as he chatted with Kelce and Jack about the challenges of the course, the lines in his forehead deep as it appeared for a moment he might be taking the game just a tad too seriously, before breaking into a cheeky grin, mumbling something you couldn’t hear that still somehow made you smile and the group break into charmed laughter. He’d pat one of them on the shoulder with a big, firm hand before taking his place by the ball, lining up a shot and using the power of his athletic body with ease, landing the ball exactly where he wanted it.

It was all enchanting, every little thing that he did, and you were mesmerized by him. You sipped your drink, which had become mostly melted ice at this point, and kept your eyes trained on him. Your increasingly blurry vision swirled and twirled around him as all the anger and sadness you’d arrived at the club with slowly sank to the bottom of the glass.

The world narrowed down to him, and with the help of a second vodka cranberry, a pleasant numbness settled over you and quieted down all distractions that could tear your thoughts away from him.

Even when Sabrina’s new besties Chad and Ryder had appeared at your side, offering to carry your clubs since you’d lost the convenience of Topper’s golf cart. Topper and Carter walked a little bit ahead of you, oscillating between cold silence and fighting, while Chad and Ryder chatted with you, though your mind was so far from the conversation you could barely register the small talk they were making. You politely answered questions about school and living in the Outer Banks, thankful they were carrying your clubs so you could focus on the cold glass in your hand and your constant surveillance of Rafe in the distance.

Somewhere between the sixth and seventh hole, the course’s walking path brought you to a beautiful, crisp blue lake. You stood at the threshold of the wooden bridge, letting the rest of the group get a little ahead of you as they crossed it. You’d sent Chad and Ryder off to refill your drink, an opportunity they’d jumped at eagerly.

Halfway across the bridge sat an open container of seeds and kernels, and a cutesy, hand painted sign that read “please, feed the ducks!”

Passing by, Rafe scooped up a handful, lazily scattering it in the rippling blue water as he crossed the rest of the bridge toward the next tee. You walked slowly to where he’d dropped the handful of seeds, looking down in the water to find a gaggle of ducklings had gathered, chirping happily as they snacked on his gift. You looked down at them with a smile, a cool breeze brushing across your face. But as you were enjoying watching their gleeful lunch, the world around you started to sway just a little, blurring at the peripheral of your vision.

Hands finding tight purchase on the railing of the bridge, two sudden realizations hit you with complete clarity, a stark contrast to the fuzziness of the rest of your thoughts.

The first thought - that you were officially drunk. A fact you were mostly ambivalent about, knowing full well you were still gonna go back to that cart girl, who you’d begun to think of as your new best friend, one way or another.

The second, more disorienting and stomach churning than any amount of liquor you could possibly consume - that you were undeniably, entirely, and irrevocably in love with Rafe Cameron.

(Chapter 9 part three)

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a/n: oh, hi there! miss me? part three of this chap following close behind! xoxo

please note the new tallest for this series is now closed. to get updates when I post please follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3

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eroticnekoisa · 3 months ago

Text

Beginner Yoga Class

M!Reader x Aespa Karina

Around 2,750 words

tags: sex, blowjob, titfuck, cumshot, reader has big dick, little bit of fluff, my first smut so don't judge me too harshly please

Recently, you decided to commit to a healthier lifestyle and to try new things. So you thought "Why not do both at once?" and began pondering what kind of activities you could do.

After pondering and searching for a few days, you ultimately decided to sign up for a yoga class. You haven't tried yoga before, plus, it would bring both the healthier lifestyle and new experience you desired. So why not?

When looking at the class options, you found a 1:1 class. Considering you have never done yoga before, you find it more appealing to be alone with the teacher. More focus on you and fewer people around to notice your mistakes, also leading to much less embarrassment from your cluelessness on the subject.

Just you and the teacher. No one else around.

You happily sign up and wait for the days to pass.

Entering the building, you instantly notice the atmosphere change. You proceed as you normally would, the receptionist greeting you before guiding you to your destination, it seems her nametag displays the name "Minjeong". As you enter the room, the receptionist let's you know that you can take one of the candies on her counter when you leave, as she returns to her place. How nice of her!

The kind receptionist shuts the door for you. You notice a dark haired woman standing next to a chair on the opposite side of the room, she appears to be fixing her hair in one of the mirrors on the wall. She doesn't seem to notice you. You approach her and greet her.

"Hello?"

startled by your voice, she quickly turns. "Oh! You're here for the class? You're early." Until now, you didn't notice that you are actually about 10 minutes early. I guess you didn't check the time.

"Sorry, I guess I didn't check the time."

"No, no. It's fine!" she says, "We can start early, just give me a minute. You can sit if you'd like" she offers with a kind smile on her face as she does something in the corner. You can't quite see what she's doing since her back is turned towards you.

You sat on the chair just as she suggested you do. You let her do what she's doing in peace, so you don't talk to her until she's ready. Your eyes wander around the room, eventually focusing on your yoga teacher. You admire her healthy looking hair, her pale skin…You begin to look at her clothing, wearing a fitted tank top, mildly baggy sweatpants, though not baggy enough to hide the curves of her hips and shape of her round ass.

You aren't looking at her with lust, just learning her features. Right? Your eyes seemed to have stopped caring about the room once you saw her ass. She turns around and smiles at you, raising one finger to tell you that she will only be one more minute! You quickly look at her face, hoping she didn't notice you staring at her ass.

She didn't notice anything when looking back at you. However, you did notice something. You noticed her large breasts held by her tank top. You couldn't help it, your thoughts were beginning to go exactly where they shouldn't. You began to think about what her body looks like underneath her clothes, how soft her skin would be, you even wondered what her pussy looks like for a few brief seconds. How dirty of you.

Your thoughts turned you on so much you could practically feel the blood rushing downward, you feel your cock getting harder, bigger, thicker. It's such a bad time to be turned on. You remain sitting in the chair (almost) successfully hiding the bulge in your pants.

"Okay. Can you move the chair now?" Karina says, with her back still turned toward you.

"Fuck." you thought. Just as you stand up, Karina turns around and drops a pen and her phone.

She gasps from seeing her phone separate from its case, she instantly bends over to pick up the items she dropped.

You can now see directly down her top, getting an almost complete view of her large, soft, breasts. Moving slightly as she moves her arms to gather the items she dropped.

Now standing up, you feel your cock firmly pressing against your pants. You can't possibly hide it now, especially considering your size. You hear Karina talking, but you don't seem to be listening. You just continue staring at her big tits, with endless sexual thoughts racing through your mind.

Smiling, Karina quickly stands up to finally get started with the class. She was excited to teach someone new.

"I'm sorry, I'm clumsy!" she says with a laugh, while looking at your face.

Just as you try to gain composure and act natural, she looks down at the chair beside you, but something else caught her attention.

"I really think I-I-" her jaw drops for a few seconds as she stares at the large bulge in your pants before realizing what she was doing, looking up to speak to you. "U-um-heh. Um. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

You turn your back to her, apologizing out of embarrassment. Though her directly looking at it turned you on even more.

"No, I'm sorry. Give me a minute, it's just-"

She interrupts you, saying "It's fine! It's totally fine!" trying to silence her awkward giggle. Now her thoughts were racing.

Awkward silence fills the room for what feels like forever. Karina looking at the floor, trying not to make you feel embarrassed. You don't notice, but she occasionally glances at you in the mirror, trying to get another look at your big cock print.

You hear her walking towards you, you feel a hand on your back and another hand on the side of your arm. She breaks the silence with her pretty voice and says,

"Can…….Can I see it..again?"

You feel so shocked to hear these words come from her mouth, you instantly turn around to look at her. Accidentally giving her exactly what she asked for. "What?!" you exclaim.

The second you face her, she looks directly at the bulge in your pants and covers her mouth in awe. Her eyes focusing on your cock made it twitch, bringing a very sexy looking smile to her face as she bites her lip.

She gets very close, putting one hand on your chest and the fingers of her other hand on the band of your sweatpants. Her face inches away from your own, her tits touching your chest as she leans in. She whispers,

"I want to see more. I….want..I want to touch it…"

You are completely lost and overwhelmed by the situation, you didn't believe it was actually happening. Karina was shy, but she was also very, very horny in this moment. She looked into your eyes, biting her lip even harder as she started gently tugging your pants downward.

You nod to give her permission. She smiles and puts both of her hands on your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear.

Your cock finally released, springing upwards. You feel your heart beating hard, just like your cock that Karina is staring at. She stares with a look of yearning on her face.

She slowly and gently grips the center of your cock with her small, soft, hand. The sight and feel of your cock turned her on so much, she couldn't stop there. She needed to stroke it, suck it, feel it deep inside her.

"Oh my god…it's so….big.." she said slowly, feeling how hard you are, she playfully asks "What got you so excited? Huh?" still holding your cock.

You smile and chuckle, not knowing what to say. She seems to have an idea, but she still wanted to tease you.

She begins stroking your cock, slowly pulling your foreskin back and forward, back and forward. The expression displayed on her gorgeous face clearly shows how aroused she is. It feels so good, you start to breath heavier. She likes the sound of that.

She lets go of your cock and with a devious look on her face, asks "Do you want to sit in the chair now?" hoping you understood what she was hinting at. You understood, but were in disbelief. You sat down in the chair, bringing her much joy.

She gets on her knees in front of you, putting her hands on each of your thighs. You don't believe what's happening, but that's okay. She doesn't mind.

You see Karina staring at your big, hard cock sticking straight up towards the ceiling. Now only inches away from her small, delicate face.

She grabs your cock, pressing it against her face and feeling how hard she made you. You both love the fact that your cock looks huge on her face, making both of you even hornier.

You feel her breath on your cock as she exhales with a soft moan, "Ahhh~"

She holds your cock still as she gives the tip a deep kiss, wetting her lips with your precum before she begins to open her mouth wide to take your sensitive tip in her mouth. You feel her wet, glossy lips sliding down your cock as it glides across her tongue.

You moan as she sucks and licks your cock, feeling her fingers start caressing and massaging your balls. She takes your cock deeper and deeper into her warm, wet mouth, sucking harder and harder. Feeling her saliva mixing with your precum, running down your cock from her lips. She tries to take it deep into her throat, but she can only handle the head entering her throat before she needs to stop.

She lifts her head up, looking at you while breathing heavily. Her lips and chin wet with your fluids. You feel frustrated, since you were right at the edge before she stopped all stimulation. But that's only because you didn't know what else she was planning in that pretty little head of hers.

Still on her knees, she smiles and slides her hands up your shirt, feeling your chest and stomach, brushing your nipples with her soft fingers. "How did my mouth feel?"

"Amazing…I can't believe this. We shouldn't-" you respond as she denies your logic.

"Shhh~ Babyy~" she says, "We have plenty of time, relax~" as she briefly stands up to give you a kiss before returning to her knees.

"I know what you want…" she teases as she removes her top, exposing her black bra. "Right?"

You respond with a "Yes…." and hear a cute yet sexy chuckle. She removes her bra, fully displaying her big, gorgeous tits you were peeping at earlier. Her nipples hard with excitement, as she caresses and softly squeezes her tits for you. Biting her lip at the pleasure and the sight of you.

She moans softly as she pinches her nipples, "And what about this?~"

She moves closer to you again, this time positioning your cock between her tits, pushing them together. She loves the feeling of her large tits surrounding your big cock, sliding up and down, making her swear.

"Fuck….is this what you wanted?" she asks, as if she wasn't the one to take your pants off.

"God…you're so pretty. It feels so good" you couldn't get any harder, the contrast of your hard cock and her soft tits turned you on even more.

Again, as you begin to feel like you'll cum any second, she stops touching you and stands up. Your cock begging for more as she ignores it, moving her body closer to your face. She puts her arms around your head, putting her beautiful tits in your face.

You begin to feel her breasts with your hands, squeezing, kneading, rubbing. She breathes in and out softly, yet heavily. She feels you begin to lick and suck on her sensitive nipples, bringing an involuntary moan out of her.

She continues to make lovely sounds as you play with her perfect tits, before putting her hand on your head and saying the following words

"St-stop….okay.."

You stop, thinking she has had enough and your luck ran out. She takes a moment before speaking again, as if her shyness returned.

"I need….I need more.."

She removes her pants completely, revealing her black panties.

"Please…….stand up.."

She couldn't take it anymore, she needed you to fuck her. She needed to feel your cock inside her pussy. She's been thinking about it since she first saw you.

You stand up as she removes her panties, you can't help but stare when you finally see her shaved pussy. It was a beautiful sight, even more beautiful than you imagined. You take a look at her panties that now lie on the floor, noticing the inside completely soaked with her fluids.

"Come on…" shyly encouraging you as she gets on the chair, her knees on the seat and her arms resting on the back. Bending over, giving you a complete view of her ass and pussy. She was so turned on, even her inner thighs were wet. It was a heavenly sight. The chair was positioned in a way that you can both see each other's faces in the mirrors on the wall.

You rest your cock on her ass and lower back, caressing her upper back with your hands, moving down to her waist as she watches in the mirror. Moving her hips back, pressing her ass onto you, she says "Please.."

Now that she was the desperately horny one, you decide to tease her. "Please what? What do you want?"

"I want it…"

"You want what? I want you to say it"

She looks at you from behind her shoulder, saying exactly what was on her mind "I want you to fuck me with your big, sexy cock. I need to feel your cock deep in my pussy. Please, please, fuck.."

You feel a wave of extreme desire flow through your body, hearing her speak those words. You have no choice but to give her exactly what she wants, after all, it's exactly what you want too.

As you prepare to penetrate her, you see her fingers already rubbing her clit, making her breath shaky. She couldn't resist, and now you can't resist either.

You slowly penetrate her warm, tight, wet pussy, it feels heavenly. Karina moans loudly as your cock travels deeper inside her, stretching her pussy. Her tits moving as you speed up, hitting her hips with your own, her ass jiggling subtly.

"It feels…fuck…so good.." she says between her moans and whimpers, rubbing her clit faster, causing her to arch her back.

"Harder….please!"

You give in and fuck her tight pussy even harder. You feel it squeezing your cock, she's in complete ecstasy. She physically cannot stop making noises.

"I'm so close…fuck. I'm-I'm gonna-ah!" she says loudly, before her legs begin to shake. Hearing those words brought you close once again. However, you were in control this time. You start fucking her faster, preparing to cum, just as you hear Karina loudly exclaim..

"I'M CUMMING"

She breathes heavily, moaning and shaking. You her pussy tightening and contracting around your cock, with her juices flowing out of her. You feel your orgasm approaching, it feels unbelievable.

As Karina watches in the mirror, you almost fail pull out of her perfect pussy as you cum, shooting large, thick ropes of cum on her ass and lower back. She softly moans, as she feels your hot cum covering her.

You both take a moment of silence to catch your breath, before you speak.

"That was…..insane."

Her shyness returns, she answers in a nod, hiding her face "Mmhmm.."

You grab towels to clean her up, and gather your clothes. Wondering about the actual yoga class, you ask her "Can I….still come again for yoga?"

Getting dressed, she answers with a giggle "Yes, next week."

"This was the weirdest class I've ever done, but…."

"…Yeah?" you ask, curious about what she was going to say.

"Um…nothing. It's time for you to leave, class is over!"

She awkwardly chases you back into the lobby, shutting the door. The receptionist glances at you as you walk by, her face very red. She asks,

"Is…uh….everything okay?", with a weird expression on her face.

A little embarrassed, you respond "Yeah, it went great!"

You don't stop walking to save yourself from the awkward and confusing situation that remained in the building. You proceed to travel home, realizing that you did not take the free candy offered by the kind, blonde receptionist.

Thank you for reading if you made it this far~

#aespa #karina #gg smut #karina smut #aespa smut

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millers-angel · 1 month ago

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lollipop dad(dy)!joel x virgin!female reader

summary: joel knows how much you enjoy having something in your mouth... so he gives you something to work on. warnings: ddlg, joel is your dad, daddy kink, smut, thumb sucking, reader has an oral fixation.

you're laying on his bed, legs stretched out, head resting on his pillow. joel is next to you, one arm under his head, watching you out of the corner of his eye. he's been watching you since the moment you wrapped it off and took it to your mouth.

the lollipop in your mouth clicks against your teeth when you shift, rolling onto your side to face him.

"why'd you give me this?" you mumble around it, lips sticky and red.

joel shrugs. "thought you'd like it."

you squint at him, like you're trying to figure something out. then, slowly, you pull the candy from your mouth with a soft pop, tongue flicking over the sugar.

his eyes drop, just for a second, before he looks away.

"you like seein’ me with it," you say, and it's not a question.

joel huffs, shaking his head, but you catch the way his fingers twitch against his stomach.

"you're imaginin’ things, sweetheart."

but you're not. you know you're not.

smiling a little, you push the lollipop back between your lips, letting your tongue swirl over it, slow, lazy. watching him.

joel shifts, clearing his throat. "shouldn't be in my bed," he mutters, but he doesn't tell you to leave. doesn't move away.

you hum, sweet and soft.

"but it's warm here," you say innocently. "you're warm." you shifted closer to him, snuggling on his ribcage.

joel exhales through his nose, tilting his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. like he’s trying not to look.

you bite down on the candy, a sharp little crunch in the quiet room.

joel’s jaw clenches. "change that look on your face, daddy," you said almost giggling by how serious he's trying to be. "here,"

you shift closer, propping yourself up on one elbow. the lollipop is still sticky between your fingers, coated in the warmth of your mouth. before he can react, you press it past his lips, slow, teasing.

joel freezes for a second, eyes flicking to yours, surprised. then he huffs a soft laugh, lips closing around the candy.

his tongue flicks over it, and before he can say anything, you move. slow and sweet, you climb onto his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. settling against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

joel stiffens, hands hovering near your waist like he doesn’t know what to do with them. the lollipop clicks against his teeth as he pulls it from his mouth and slowly pushed it into yours again.

"looks better when you have it," he said, voice raspy.

"yeah?" you teased moving yourself forward for him to feel how the thing slides on your mouth.

his hands shifted to your hips. "yeah, you love having something in that little mouth of yours."

you gasped, acting offended. "not only in my mouth!"

he chuckled, squeezing your hips. "where else?"

you took the lollipop from your mouth and played mapped a trail to your chest. "mm... well," you drawled until you got to your lower belly, toying the hem of the shorts you're wearing. "maybe—"

you sent shivers to the tip of his dick. he held your wrist before you got the lollipop inside the shorts. "hey,"

"what?" you leaned to him, brushing your lips on his ear. "i bet you'd like to see how i play with the lollipop in my private parts,"

you started leaving kisses from his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. "you'd like it, don't you?"

he took a deep breath. "you know i can't, angel,"

you furrowed your brows, "but you don't have to touch me, you just have to see me," your lips ghosted on his.

his eyes betrayed him, staying on those puffy lips that drive him crazy. joel always noticed them, always.

it was the way you had a pen or pencil in your mouth when you were lost in thought, like you couldn’t help it. he saw it when you were in your room writing, the way the pen would rest between your lips, just barely there, sucking the tips just a little.

even at the dinner table, you’d hold your fork or spoon too long between your lips, and joel couldn’t stop himself from staring, wondering what it’d feel like to replace that utensil with his own lips... or maybe his dick.

and even when you slept, your lips still had something between them. the corner of your blanket or even your own thumb, it was the sweetest thing to see.

joel would’ve given anything to feel those lips on his, to know what it was like to taste the softness of them for real. what it's like to feel them sucking him.

you closed the distance between you, moving slowly, as if every inch mattered. joel didn’t pull away, he let himself fall into the feeling of you so close, so warm.

he kissed you back, slow and tender, as if you were the most delicate thing he’d ever held in his arms—you are, like he was memorizing the taste of you... how sweet you tasted, like that lollipop you've been toying in your mouth minutes before this.

you felt his scruffy beard tickle your skin, making you smile into the kiss.

he pulled back slightly. "this is wrong,"

you shook your head, "but we want to," you held his face. "you didn't like it? because i can get better—"

" i liked it, but," he tucked a string of hair back to your ear. "you know what i mean, baby girl,"

you hopped a little on his lap, he flinched cause he was already worked up from seeing you sucking the lollipop.

"little one, wait—"

"what?" you acted dumb, still hopping. "can we play horsey ride, daddy?" you pouted. "please."

he loved when his girl rubbed herself on his lap, feeling her soft spot between her legs, making little sounds he always pretend to ignore because he wanted to feel less guilty about enjoying playing with his girl like this.

"alright," he cleared his throat. "but you have to keep sucking on the lollipop."

now he can't even hide how much he likes it... and who are you to deny such request?

you started to grinding your hips on him. his body got stiffened but you couldn't help yourself—you never did. playing horsey with joel wasn't just arousing but you've had the best orgasms by doing it too. whenever you're watching a movie and you start hopping on his lap, or when he's braiding your hair, even when he's comforting you, you always do it and you know he knows cause you always end up panting, squirming, flushed cheeks, sweating even. you know he knows because you always feel how hard he gets—like now.

the difference is that this time, you're muffling your moans by sucking on the lollipop, but still making lazy sweet noises. your eyes are closed, your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, your lips all wet by drool.

you could feel his cock twitching, it was impossible not to with the view you're giving him. your breasts raise and fall perfectly in the top you're wearing, he can see them because of how thin the fabric is. the way you move your hips on him like you're just made to ride him, the way your lips tight around the lollipop.

"don't you enjoy playing horsey, baby?"

you whimpered. "yes, daddy." you said lazily.

he started jerking his hips too, matching your pace, he usually controls himself, but not today. he wanted to feel you, to make his girl come.

“such a sweet girl,” he cooed.

your core was throbbing, he could feel how warm it was, maybe leaking some of your fluids on his sweatpants… which he loved, the way his girl always left something hers on him.

a bit of drool was leaking from your mouth and the space it was between the candy. he held the stick firmly.

“suck.” he commanded.

this time you opened your eyes as you did, to meet his but joel's eyes fixated on your mouth as you continued to suck on the lollipop, his grip on your hips tightening slightly as he felt his cock twitching. he let out a low groan, his head tilting back slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

"goddamn it," he muttered under his breath, his mind racing with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. "you're driving me crazy."

you humped, moaning softly, almost reaching the orgasm. he held your hips close to his bulge and thrusted.

your movements grew slower and he knew you were there, not only by how your movements went slow, but by how your lips were sucking on the lollipop, by how your humming was sloppy and delicate, and also, by how you were curling your toes.

he loved to see his girl having an orgasm. those little moans you make, the way your cheeks get all flushed and you become shy after you realize you’ve had an orgasm on joel’s cock.

he cupped you to his chest, trying to make you feel less shy.

his hands smoothed over your back, warm and steady, guiding you down until you were curled against him, small and safe. he shifted, turning with you until you were tucked into his side, his arm heavy around your waist.

“there you go, angel,” he murmured, voice deep, soothing. “you did a great job.”

you hid your face against his chest, still feeling the heat on your skin, the softness in your limbs. joel just held you closer, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

he chuckled. "you not talking to me?" you shook your head and looked at him through your lashes, his cock twitched, you look so damn innocent.

“already gettin’ sleepy, huh?” he mused, his lips brushing against your hair. “bet you’re all ready for bed now.”

his voice was teasing, but low, gentle. lulling. you didn’t answer, just let out a little hum, pressing closer.

“that’s what i thought. let's get you to bed.”

"what? no, no, please, i—i want to sleep here, with you."

he chuckled softly. "now you're talking,"

you weren’t even sleepy, you were just a little ashamed because of how you’ve finished, because he has seen you doing it—it’s not even new, but still.

you shifted, being his little spoon. he slipped his hand on your stomach, pulling you closer to him.

time passed and he was just pressing his lips sloppily on your shoulder, just hearing the way your mouth still works on that damn lollipop.

it’s driving him crazy because he can’t stop thinking about what you just did, about how damp you left his sweatpants, about how slick your skin must be down there.

it didn’t help that you didn’t stop moving your hips on him while lying there, feeling his bulge.

“daddy, why do i feel sticky in my private parts?” you played dumb.

he blinked. “did you pee?” he teased back, holding his laugh.

you rolled your eyes. “no, it’s not pee… can you check it out for me, please?”

you asked while your hands slipped the shorts down—this time, he didn’t stop you. you were bare naked for him, ready to be used.

you’re begging for it.

he rolled down his sweatpants, freeing his aching and swollen dick finally being free. you looked at him over your shoulder and he immediately turned you back, if you see him he’s gonna lose it.

the next thing you felt was flesh, warm and hard flesh against your thighs. you bit the candy and he got his cock between your inner thighs.

you were all sticky, you were a mess and he’s not planning on cleaning you or checking on you—as you asked. he’s gonna make more of a mess.

he thrusted, you squeezed your thighs and his cock at the same time, he let out a whimper, he was too big. your skin is way too soft down there, he can feel everything, how swelled your pussy is, how warm and wet it is.

he heard the click of the lollipop in your mouth and immediately shifted one of his hands to your face, sticking out the candy and throwing it somewhere in the room. he couldn’t care less.

he replaced it with his thumb.

you received him gracefully, pressing your tongue on him, swirling it and sucking him as much as you could, moving your head even, so he’d feel what you’d do to his cock.

“that it, sweet girl,” he grunted on your ear. "daddy's thumb is better, isnt it?"

you hummed in approval, you look adorable, closed eyes, tight lips around him, your body limp but your thighs, the little sounds you’re muffling on his thumb. his girl was made to please him.

he wasn’t thrusting gentle, it was desperate and needy, like he’s been waiting to do this for a long time—he has.

you were slightly digging your teeth on his skin when he was getting close to the orgasm, you could feel it—the way his cock throbbed, the way he was fastening his pace, the way he was whimpering, grunting, mumbling unintelligible stuff. it didn't help when you pushed yourself back, sticking your bodies together.

his cock was sliding on your slit, feeling how small and soft your pussy is. his thumb tensed on your mouth, just as his whole body and the next thing you felt was a warm, sticky fluid between your thighs, over your pussy.

he was lightly spasming, panting. but he didn't regret what he just did, he knows you wanted this as much as him.

his took his pruney thumb out your mouth. "you made a mess on me, daddy,"

he chuckled, gasping. "i'm gonna clean you up, baby, don't worry," he pressed his lips on your shoulder.

oh, and he did, he wiped you clean. it was the very first time joel saw your bare pussy, it was the most perfect one he's ever seen. it was all covered in his cum, flushed and swollen, he wouldn't share it with anyone else. he may have stayed wiping more time that he should've... but you didn't complain, his fingers were thick and knew what they were doing.

he opened your folds just a little to see the tiny hole. "you still virgin?"

"why don't you found out?" you teased, he rolled his eyes. "yes, i'm virgin..." you bit your lip. "i'm saving myself for you, daddy."

he breathed, you're gonna get him hard again, specially when he's looking at your pussy like this, so exposed and ready for him... but no. not tonight at least. he pressed his lips on your inner thigh and quickly put your shorts back on.

you sighed. "i thought—"

"you know we can't—"

"but, daddy—"

"no buts," he said firmly, lying behind you, his chest warm against your back as he softly pushed you closer to him. his hand rested on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

you stayed like that for a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, the weight of his arm keeping you close. then, in a small, hesitant voice, you asked, "can i at least sleep with your thumb in my mouth?"

his breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he brought his hand up, brushing his knuckles over your cheek before pressing his thumb against your lips. "that helps you sleep, huh?" his voice was softer now.

you nodded, lips parting just enough to take him in, feeling the rough pad of his thumb rest against your tongue. a content sigh escaped you as your eyes fluttered shut.

"spoiled,"

♡

#millersangel writes ♡#joel miller #joel the last of us #the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller pedro pascal #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel smut #smut #joel miller fanfiction #tlou joel #tlou fanfic #daddy k!nk #daddy's good girl

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michuga · 2 months ago

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dream encounter

you meet the man of your dreams. literally.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

warnings: swearing, 18+ content, usage of violent terms, reader is hoooornyyy

wc: ~3k

a/n: inspired by personal experience. i'm still grieving.

you stumble into a dark alleyway, lips locked with another's. coming up for air, you inspect the man practically attached to you.

tall, buff, tattooed, smooookin'. lips plumper than ripe berries and eyes brighter than stars in a pitch black night sky.

god damn.

no time to think.

you grab him by the collar and devour him anew.

you tangle your hands in his soft locks, and he impatiently gropes the flesh of your ass. sighing into the kiss, you rub against his hard bulge.

you have never been so content. truthfully, you can keep going just like this for a few hours, minimum.

"need you," you mumble.

swiftly turning you around, he pins you against the wall. you're sandwiched between the wall and his firm body, pressing against your core just right.

hot breath against your ear, he whispers behind you, "make pretty noises for me, beautiful."

with you distracted, he sneaks an arm across your waist and dips it into your panties.

right as his fingers brush your lower belly and reach where you need him most desperately,

you wake up.

and you scream.

loud.

"jesus did someone die?" your roommate busts into your room, frantic and concerned as ever. "what the hell is the matter with you?"

in silent defeat, you grab your pillow and smash it against your face.

sighing and no longer concerned for your wellbeing, she leaves your room confused but somewhat used to your antics.

rubbing your legs together, you almost cry under your covers. guess your fingers will have to do, yet again.

"you do not understand. that was my fucking soulmate."

"a guy your brain made up touches you once and he's your soulmate?"

"shut up. you literally don't get it. i am so utterly devastated i could kill someone."

"you know what really is devastating? being in a dry spell so severe your brain has to resort to making up hallucinations."

"you have 3 seconds to run before i kill you."

"the only way you'll be killing me is with your delusion. i think i'm good."

"it's not funny! i saw his face, i physically felt his hands! this was like, cosmic. otherworldly. life-changing."

"you mean panty-changing."

"you dare mock my feelings? i woke up and felt like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it. like my other half was ripped from my hands. like we were connected in a past life. like-"

she snorts, "yeah, connected by divine pussy."

"i'm mourning. i'm mourning and you're laughing."

"mourning!!" she laughs in disbelief, "you sound like you just got dumped by casper the horny ghost."

"i swear to god-" you chase her around the apartment for a solid 15 minutes after that.

two weeks have passed since your.. very realistic dream.

you've forgotten about it, but you could feel it in your body that your brain chemistry was altered. people may think you're exaggerating, but you really mean it when you say you haven't been the same ever since.

food doesn’t taste right. music doesn’t hit the same. the sun? dimmer. the first sip of hot coffee on a chilly morning? slightly colder.

maybe your roommate was right. maybe you're simply too touch deprived.

god, this is sad.

as you finish adding the last few things on your grocery list to your cart, you turn around to head to checkout. until you accidentally bump into someone.

"sorry! sorry!" you blurt, immediately bending down to help the stranger pick up what he dropped.

"shit, no worries," he says, crouching down to help you.

and that's when you see it; his tattooed hand.

what is it with you and tattooed men? the universe must really be torturing you. this was like dangling candy in front of a child then snatching it away, knowing you were never gonna give it to them in the first place. cruel.

"you really don't have to, it's fine," he adds.

wait.. that voice? sounds familiar?

you slowly, slowly stand up, heart pounding in your chest, finally meeting the stranger's eyes.

your soul leaves your body. your eyes damn near pop out of their sockets.

you stand there silent, like a damn fool. smiling awkwardly, he takes his stuff and walks away.

you don’t move. you don’t breathe. was this… was this another hallucination? are you so horny that your brain has started projecting men into real life like some kind of thirst-induced hologram?

you slap yourself once. no, surely not.

you slap yourself again. nope. pain is real. surely you’re not that mentally unwell. right? right? you had your mental issues but you were certain none came with hallucinations.

peeking over at checkout, you see him there, bagging his items like it’s just another tuesday. then he leaves, disappearing out the automatic doors. just like that.

you’re frozen, gripping your bag of frozen blueberries like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

he's real. this has to be some cosmic joke.

"babe, life isn't a k-drama," your roommate says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she flops onto the couch, completely dismissing your very real emotional crisis. "listen. i know how you feel. dry spells are no joke."

you facepalm.

"no, really!" she continues, undeterred. "one time i went 3 months without dick thought i started having revelations from the heavens above."

you glare at her. "cut your shit, i'm serious! he was real and he looked exactly the same as the dream. maybe slightly taller and definitely hotter, but it was him."

she raises an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her amusement. "so, let me get this straight." she leans in, finally entertaining your story for a minute.

"you mean to tell me that you experienced textbook soulmate-ism; seeing a complete stranger in a dream and then accidentally bumping into him a few weeks later? that you’ve met in a past life, or that your souls are like, intertwined in some deeply meaningful, cosmic way? a destined interaction?" she mocks as she wiggles her fingers, mimicking magic.

she wiggles her fingers dramatically, mimicking magic, and you groan so loud it echoes.

turning on your heel, you storm back toward your room. you don't know why you even bothered to begin with.

"wait, wait!" she calls after you, cackling. "you know, taehyung's not dating anyone right now. want me to send you his number?"

you ignore her, marching faster.

"ooo, since you're psychic now, can you tell me my grade on tomorrow's test? or what my mom's cooking for lunch today?" she adds, trailing behind you like an annoying toddler.

you slam the door in her face so hard the hinges rattle.

serves her right.

you are going to kill your roommate.

one, for not believing you.

and two, for dragging you to a club where taehyung conveniently happened to be, and her only informing you as you were literally walking in.

he's not bad by any means, not at all. in fact, he's got the whole package. good looks, charismatic, talented and has men and women tripping over themselves for his attention.

your point is proven when you immediately spot him speaking to three women. you're no body language expert, but five more minutes of him entertaining them and they're gonna pounce on him.

you're just.. not interested.

you had met before at one of your roommate's work outings. you chatted for a bit, shared a drink. it took you, what? an hour? maybe less, to realize that friends were all you could ever be. the chemistry just wasn't there.

you don't actually hate your roommate for it, you know she just wants you to be happy. you're just irritated because you're so horny. and the only relief you've gotten in the past two years was your recent sex dream. that one touch was enough to send you spiraling into madness. she was right, dry spells really are no joke.

after 20 minutes of forced small talk, fake smiling, and one or maybe two shots later, you excuse yourself to the bathroom; thankful for any relief from this endless and agonizing night. horny and bored out of your mind do not go well together.

in front of the mirror, you stare at your reflection. get it together.

you fix your hair, touch up your makeup, and give yourself a little pep talk.

tonight this ends. you’re not walking out of here empty-handed.

be it taehyung or literally anyone else, someone is coming home with you. no more of this pathetic nonsense. your fingers deserve a break. so do your batteries.

as you dry your hands and exit the bathroom, you almost trip. before you faceplant into the floor, firm hands grab your waist, steading you.

you sigh in relief. a broken ankle definitely meant no dick tonight. you were that desperate.

"easy there," a voice says, rich and smooth like velvet and honey. sugar, spice and everything nice.

oh, no. no. no. no.

cosmic joke? this is a full on prank.

your guy, yet again.

at this point, you're convinced you're either in a simulation or someone is filming this for a prank show. whoever was controlling your character needed to grant you some reprieve. some grace, please!

he’s smiling down at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "are you ever gonna say anything?" he teases. "so far you've just ogled me and stayed completely silent. have we met before?"

your brain short-circuits. the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a dreamy and borderline pathetic sigh, "yes, we have."

"we have?" he asks, brows knit together in confusion, head tilting slightly.

"i think i'd remember you," he adds as he grins. that smug, boyish kind of grin.

your heart is doing somersaults, but your brain kicks in just in time. shaking your head quickly, you wave it off like you didn’t just sound like a lovesick creep.

"sorry, no we haven't." you force out a chuckle. "must have misheard."

idiot, idiot, idiot.

he laughs softly, extending his hand, "jeongguk. nice to meet you."

you take his hand, trying not to combust from the electricity that shoots up your arm. instant sparks. "sorry for being a freak. you just... reminded me of someone."

his eyes twinkle. "all good memories, i hope?"

you laugh, nerves making it come out a little breathy.

"thank you for saving me."

you internally cringe at your choice of words. throwing yourself off the nearest bridge would be less painful than this.

'thank you for saving me?' what is this, a disney movie? It’s not like he pulled you from a burning building.

he chuckles, unfazed, and waves it off like it’s no big deal. "see you around, then."

walking away, yet again, he leaves you burning up and in awe.

many drinks later, you end up on the dancefloor, your roommate, god knows where, doing god knows what with god knows who. you've learned not to ask.

you dance (the testosterone) your heart out. you close your eyes and you let go for the first time that night.

swaying your hips, you feel a hand slide around your waist from behind, firm and confident. a spark shoots through you, electrifying every nerve. you're caught off guard, but you don’t stop.

leaning into the touch, your body instinctively recognizes the connection. the hand tightens slightly, fingers splaying against your hipbone, guiding you in perfect sync with the music. the warmth of a chest presses against your back, and your skin prickles with electricity.

you turn your head slightly, stealing a glance at the stranger behind you. but when your eyes catch his—your breath hitches in your throat. all words die right then and there. futile devices.

turning around to face him, you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your body dangerously close to his. instinctively, he makes a home for his hands on your hips, and like an intruder, makes way for a muscular thigh right in between yours.

"i think you're gonna kill me." he murmurs, his voice low and laced with lazy lust.

looking up at him, you're unable to hide the need that kisses every delicate feature on your face. eyes twinkling, lips slightly agape, eyebrows knit.

you can’t take much more of this.

without thinking, your hand finds his, and you tug him toward the edge of the dance floor. he follows without hesitation, his grip firm, a clear indicator of impatience rivaling yours.

stumbling out of the club, the night air hits your skin like a slap. pure whiplash to your practically scorching hot skin. a giggling mess, your hands tangle with your hot dream man's.

as he calls for a cab, you stand behind him. emboldened by the alcohol and adrenaline, you rise on your tiptoes and press your lips to his neck; inhaling the scent of sweat and cologne. oh how you've missed that smell.

his breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop you.

minutes pass. no cabs. no patience.

without a word, he grabs your wrist, his touch sending another jolt through you, and pulls you into a dark alley.

holy.

shit.

holy shit?

before you can process it, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. you moan into his mouth, equal parts pleasure and relief. your dark days are behind you. the curse has been broken, your dry spell is finally over.

his hands find your waist as you press into him, mouths moving like you’ve done this a hundred times before. then, with a swift motion, he spins you around, your front hitting the cool, rough wall. his body is a furnace against yours, hands exploring like a man starved.

you can take a wild guess what happened next. only this time, there was nothing to wake you up.

maybe you'll become a psychic medium for a living.

a few months later, you and jeongguk start officially dating.

it was nice to finally put a name to the face.

one lazy sunday afternoon, you're both sprawled on the couch, his head resting in your lap as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. the soft hum of a movie plays in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention.

"you know i had a dream about you before i met you?" you blurt out, your voice casual but your heart racing the moment the words leave your mouth. sometimes you really are the very cause of your own demise.

jeongguk's eyes snap open, and he tilts his head to look up at you, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "come again?"

instantly regretting your admission, you try to brush it off, waving your hand dismissively as you shift, attempting to slide out from under him. "oh, it's nothing. forget i said anything."

"no, no. get back here," he chuckles, sitting up quickly and grabbing you by the waist before you can make your escape. with surprising ease, he spins you around, pulling you onto his lap.

"finish that thought," he says, his voice low and teasing, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"nothankyou!" you squeal, trying to wriggle free from his grasp and attempt to escape once more, but he’s stronger, and it's far too late now.

laughing, he hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he gets up; trapping you in bicep jail.

"jeongguk! put me down!" you whine, your fists playfully pounding against his back as you kick your legs in protest. "let me oooouuutt!"

"i will," he says, taking slow, exaggerated steps toward the kitchen, "once you spill."

"fine, fine!" you huff dramatically. "put me down before my head explodes!"

he finally sets you down gently, but not without keeping his hands on your hips, his gaze locked onto yours with an expectant grin.

"well," you start, biting your bottom lip, "before i bumped into you that one time at the grocery store, i had a dream about you. and, uh… you looked exactly the same."

his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, he’s silent. then, a wide grin spreads across his face. "that is the craziest thing you've ever said. and you say some pretty crazy shit, might i add." he leans in closer, fully invested. "what kind of dream?"

you feel your cheeks heat up, turning beet red as you avert your gaze.

"baby...?" he draws out the word, his tone laced with playful curiosity. his fingers start poking your sides, making you squirm and giggle. "what kind of dream?"

"well, what do you think?" you yelp, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you cover your face with your hands. you find yourself wishing once more the earth would swallow you whole.

still confused, he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally dawns on him.

and then, laughter erupts. hearty and unrestrained, gradually making his whole body shake. "so that's why you were so weird back then?"

"gee, thanks!" you shoot back, rolling your eyes, though you can’t help but laugh along with him.

"am i wrong?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you had your mouth open like a fish. i was half expecting a fly to stumble right into your mouth."

"you've made your pointtt," you groan, dragging out the last word dramatically. "it's not every day you meet the man from your wet dreams, so yes, forgive me if i was a little tongue-tied."

crossing your arms, you try to look annoyed, but your smile gives you away.

"oh, i'll knock that attitude out of you," he grins mischievously.

before you can react, he scoops you up again and walks you over to the couch, dramatically plopping you down with exaggerated care. you squeal, laughing uncontrollably as he pins you beneath him, his face hovering inches from yours. you immediately regret your life decisions.

you never believed dreams came true.

but you are so, so thankful this one did.

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @dollyunjinz

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