#just writing this up before going to bed. i'll get to replying to some things tomorrow

[iristial]

The first three episodes of Gavv got leaked and deleted (Toei is prepared with their filming schedule :o)

From the thumbnails alone, the main Rider boy looks so Aruto-coded and it does good things to my heart. I almost want to see him do an Aruto ja naito (･ω･) Though I need to plead for this guy to not snap like a tree trunk every fourth business day. It's fun to watch in retrospect - and somehow a testament to acting skills - but it's heartburn and stress in real time lol

Junko Komura might be the lead writer? If that's true then this is going to be so fun! I've wanted to see her hand at a Rider series because I adore LuPato, I like a good chunk of Komura's humour, her dramatic beats get my brainworms and tears rolling like no tomorrow, and while I skipped Zenkaiger I did adore Stacey with every pathetic bone in my body. Stacey fancam mode was such a wonderful time <3 Maybe that means I'll get the toku ikemen I've been wanting for a while...? xD

Then again, the deal breaker could be the suit designs. I've noticed with Reiwa toku that I tend to skip series if I don't like a good portion of the suits (though I do want to see Revice and Donbrothers someday), and Gavv is - well, something so far lol We'll have to wait and see!

[dollfacefantasy]

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now. 

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time. 

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like -  you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout. 

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that. 

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

[prael]

Integrity

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

Happy Hanni Day!

Masterlist word count: 6,048 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's a really long way to travel, and doubly so when you get fuck all from it. It's not like you were after anything ground-breaking—it's just a fashion show, after all.

It's about as close as you get to 'phoning it in' as a journalist. A few copy-and-paste interviews to accompany some snapshots of the season's latest designs. A couple hundred words, cut and run. Who wore what dress and who wore it the tightest. You could probably type most of it out on the plane without ever leaving your seat, and the public will still eat it up.

Somewhere over Austria, you mulled over that very fact.

Four days later, somewhere over Hungary, you're scrambling to do exactly that.

The whole thing is going fine. Fine, right up until it isn't. Maybe it's the sound of your fingers on the keys or the pocket of air that rocked the plane in that familiar gut-wrenching way, but her eyes are opening slowly. She's mouthing something, her fingers reaching around behind her, under the thin layer of blankets she is enveloped in.

"Are we there yet?" she murmurs, fishing her phone out of her blanket, sleepiness and all.

"Not even close," you say as flatly as you can, returning to a few words you'd been rolling over in your head for the better part of thirty minutes.

"What are you writing about?" She asks from down on her fully reclined seat that's moonlighting as a bed.

"You," you say with a small laugh, not looking away from your laptop.

"What about me?" Hanni's phone lights up, cutting through the darkness and finally making her face visible. The cabin is in full black-out since it's the middle of the night, and the dividers in first-class keep the two of you isolated.

"Your clothes, mostly. Generic fashion show stuff. Doesn't really matter. I put the names Gucci and Hanni Pham in an article and it sells itself. Instant clicks. S'like... two baits for one fish."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably is," you reply, knowing full well that there's little to be proud of in here. It's all surface level after all, since adding the things you know now might raise a few eyebrows. All the investigative journalism you've done over the past few days isn't exactly something you can write about. Though you can't deny it, an article about the beauty mark right below her waistline would probably send the masses into a frenzy.

You can hear her tapping on her screen a few more times, and with the silence in the first-class cabin at night, you find yourself focusing on those sounds more than your writing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Sigh. Tap. Tap.

"What is it?"

"Can't sleep," comes her whispered reply as she pushes herself up with that strange grunt you often hear her make, propping her pillow against the bulkhead and stretching out.

"Drugs not working?"

She shakes her head. "Not doing much."

"If my typing is too loud I can stop—"

"No, you focus. I'll find something to keep myself distracted." She locks her phone again and disappears into the darkness again, her soft breathing almost inaudible. Minutes go by. You manage a full two paragraphs before hearing her moving in the darkness again.

"Hanni?"

"Shh."

The slow shifting goes on for another few seconds, and in the darkness, you can make out the movement of her blanket as she slides off the chair down to your feet. What hits you next is her fingers reaching into your waistband.

"Hann—"

"Quiet," she whispers back. You quickly pick up the laptop from resting on your lap before her attempts to undress you can send it crashing to the floor. You're quick to place it on her seat and close its cover, out of her reach just in time before she slides your pants down.

She doesn't say anything, just lets you lay there in silence as her fingers guide you into her mouth. It is almost unnerving how used to it you have become in such a short time—how easy it has become for you, a supposed professional, to mix business and pleasure to this degree.

Hanni goes on unperturbed, wetting you between plump lips that trail up and down your length.

There is nothing you can do at this point but give in and just throw your head back. You grow harder under her touch and her tongue and judging by the way she grows more aggressive with her movements, Hanni is starting to enjoy herself as well. You can't quite make out her face, but you already know the look she's wearing. Can practically see it in your mind's eye; the look of wide-eyed desire as she takes you further in, lips rounding out over teeth as she welcomes every inch you give her until her cheeks cave in from sucking.

It's fucking burned into your brain. You've seen it so much, among so many other filthy expressions, you aren't sure if you could ever forget it.

Your hand reaches down blindly in the darkness until it finds the back of her head. The mere fact that the both of you are sitting on this plane hundreds of miles above the ground is instantly forgotten, fading out from consciousness and sense as she holds on, massaging your balls with one hand.

You let yourself lay there like this, fingers tangled in her hair, cock buried in her mouth. The thought of pulling her up and reciprocating is never far from your mind, but her grip on your hips is certain. This is all her right now. She's in charge.

She does not lack the pace to prove it.

Her head bobs up and down in the dark, tongue guiding you further in with every motion, lips slipping further down along your shaft, saliva pooling at your base. Her humming is growing—you can't hear it, but you can feel it. It resonates all the way through you, down the aching hardness she keeps stroking with her tongue, and even further to fuel that tension building in your lower stomach.

"Holy fuck," you curse under your breath, voice catching in your throat, lost in the motion of the plane's droning vibrations and her eager motions.

She pops you from her mouth, stroking your cock with a twist of a wrist and something she is doing with her tongue at the tip. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can see that spit has mixed with precum, dribbling down and over the back of her knuckles. It's lewd and over the top and everything that Hanni Pham, an innocent idol, pretends not to be.

"What? You want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," you whisper back, heart pumping in your ears. The feeling of her strokes, suddenly more controlled and tense without the benefit of her mouth is as jarring as it is fleeting.

"Didn't think so." With that, she brings her head back down to take you in her mouth again, hot breaths hitting the spit-slick surface of your dick. It's dirty and clumsy, messy and wet, and each time she swallows you, your entire body shudders with pleasure, coiling every muscle and feeling it climb upward until your stomach goes tight and you find yourself pushing her down, further, faster, until she is sucking what little air she has.

You are wound tight. Agonising, torturous tension pulling ever outward from your centre with each motion she makes. Every twitch of her tongue—fuck, does she work her tongue—spurs some sort of response down to the very tips of your toes.

It's a complete relapse. Back to four days ago, in the back of the car, with nothing but a divider between you and the driver. Cumming inside Hanni's pretty mouth and feeling her swallow every bit, then going on like nothing happened.

-

There's usually not a lot of enthusiasm for an interview. You have spent the whole morning being shrugged off by star after star after star. To them, they're there to look pretty. To show face and represent their brands. Answers are pre-written garbage to be regurgitated over and over like everyone is sharing the same stupid fucking tongue.

Then there's little miss backless-top. Denim jeans and a shirt with frills that barely keeps her modesty. Big, brown eyes and a smile that fills her whole face. Add her vibrance and energy and she really gets your journalistic gears turning. There's something fresh about her. How when you approach her, she engages you in a conversation like you're an actual person and not just some cardboard cut-out of a journalist.

Hanni Pham knows her shit. It's part of the training. She handles media with all the grace of someone born to do it and the energy of someone who loves it. So not only does she give you answers there and then, but when you make the request to sit down with her later and get all you need to do a whole feature on her, she's quickly turning to the powers that be to make it happen.

She should have been a ten-minute addendum. An hourglass figure strutting and posing and laughing her pretty little ass off for cameras for the adoring public. Instead, Hanni fucking Pham, you've got her. For hours.

So you sit down in a quiet little room you managed to reserve with the company card, and she's right across from you, with two glasses of water and a notepad on a table in an otherwise empty room.

"Is this going to be recorded?" She asks first, though looks sceptical and unprepared.

"Normally, yes. But I would prefer us to be a little more comfortable. I'm going to take notes, that's all."

"I like that." She claps, like there's an imaginary audience watching, even if you're the only one there. "So, what are we covering?"

"Everything. To start," you shift a little closer to the table. "Think of this being more about you rather than what you're wearing."

She gives you a little bit of a quizzical look.

"I know. Fashion show. Just, work with me here. The Gucci brand gets the clicks, I want to introduce those clickers to the girl wearing the clothes."

Hanni nods, her eyes light up a little and you can't help but notice how she is really fucking adorable. Up close, she's even prettier. It throws you off for a second as you bring up the notepad. The blank pages stare up at you—mock you. Where do you even begin?

"We met briefly earlier, and you're standing alongside stars from many industries and the lead designer at Gucci."

"Yes," she smiles politely. "That was exciting. Kind of surreal, really."

"So what does it take to be who you are? A girl of Vietnamese blood, born in Melbourne, working in South Korea and travelling to Europe for fashion shows?"

"Uhm, like, honestly?" She shifts in her seat. "Really a lot of hard work. Endless and stressful and never-ending hard work. You know? From singing and dancing, to the language lessons and the dieting and working out. It needs hard work and, well, a lot of luck too."

"You make your own luck." You nod, before jotting down into your notepad.

She tilts her head in response. "I suppose so. That's very quotable if you want. I made my own luck by working hard."

"And yet you're still young, what, turning twenty?"

"Just." Hanni nods.

"Barely twenty and making waves. Do you still feel like you have so much more to give?"

"Oh fuck yeah," she quickly confirms. "Wait, don't write that down."

"Oh... fuck... yeah." You sound out the words as you pretend to write them in the notepad.

"Hey!" Hanni laughs, and it's beautiful. It fills the room and just makes her glow with warmth. "Cut me some slack."

"Alright. Alright. So is this what you envisioned? Being twenty and being here?"

"You mean in this room with you?"

You laugh too. The jokes come so naturally to her.

"I'm happy where I am, it really was always my dream."

"To be in this room with me?"

"Fuck you," she laughs. "But, in a way, yes. I wouldn't be here if I didn't achieve my dream, would I?"

"That's very true. Then what is next for you?"

"There's no end goal." Hanni tilts her head. You follow her hand as it passes through her hair. She's studying you just like you are studying her. "I don't think I'll ever sit back and say 'that's enough.' That's not who I am."

"Ambitious. The question now is what are you chasing?"

"Is that you asking or the article?"

"Both," you say with a wry smile.

"For the article: I want to tour the world, keep improving and working hard. Release more music."

You scribble down a few notes and then click the top of the pen. "And off the record?"

"To spend a little more time focusing on myself. Time is fleeting. I should try and enjoy it while it lasts."

"You're young, pretty and successful. You have plenty of opportunity to do just that."

"Is that flirting?" she jokes, cocking her brow with a seductive smile.

"I'm just stating facts. I'm married to the truth." You gesture to your notepad. "So let's get back on the record, shall we?"

-

One delayed layover later and you're back in the air, and after your brief break to let Hanni drain you into her throat, you managed to get back to finishing up the article, so for the final stretch, the two of you are lying together in one of the first-class beds, and the conversation kept going.

"How are you single?" she's asking, while you're spooning her.

"Mostly because of my job. Definitely the baggage and constant travelling. Takes a special woman to not hate this."

"Sounds like idol life. I know so many idols who try to date but you just never have the time to see each other. We tour constantly and are always on the road. A long day of practising and comeback planning and comeback filming and comeback rehearsing, and more hours of sleep and eating to prep for the next comeback, you're always too exhausted."

"Such a shame." You lower the blanket that's covering her bare chest. Her breasts fill your palm as you caress them, gently. "A pretty thing like you deserves so much better than empty hotel rooms."

"Flirt," she playfully chastises, pressing her ass to your crotch before sliding forward to give you some friction, grinning at you over her shoulder. "These past few days, all the sex, I'd be lying if I said I couldn't get used to this."

It's a sentiment so heavily shared, that even now you're thinking about how easy it would be to pin her onto her back and mount her. It isn't easy to shake the thought when her body is practically inviting you inside her.

You're asking instead, still exploring her naked form, "How do you overcome the needs?"

"Other ways..." Hanni replies through closed eyes, her cheeks blushing. "Toys. Helps and hurts. They're no real substitute."

You run your hand over her toned stomach, heading between her thighs and gently prying them open. And there she is. Right fucking there, wet and waiting for you. Your finger glides over her lips and runs the full length of her, and she strains to contain a gentle moan. The problem is, Hanni is really fucking loud, and the walls of this pod are paper thin.

"I want you again," she whispers, and it's a real fucking dilemma.

She guides your cock through the folds of her pussy and leans back her head as she takes it. Fuck, it feels so good being back inside her. Wet and tight and made to grip. A small whimper escapes her when you are in deep, which she tries to swallow.

"You gotta be quiet," you tell her, while all but refusing to move inside her.

"I can be quiet," she grinds against you, but you're not convinced, and with a firm grasp of her jaw, you pull her closer.

"Can you?" you speak under her ear. "Can the oh-so-talented Hanni Pham control herself?"

She lets out another trembling little sound of pleasure while pushing herself onto your shaft. "I think so. All I know is you need to—yeah, right there. Yes." She closes her eyes and tries to stifle that deep groan of enjoyment.

You hush her before it gets too loud with a hand over her mouth. Tentatively, you begin moving, an aching slow journey backward and forward. As tight as her cunt is around your dick, the movement becomes easy. Dragging more pleasure from both of you and as she rolls her hips again, grinding against the motion, the whimpering returns.

"Hanni," you scold gently, pushing further into her with each stroke. "Shhh."

She mouths an 'I can't' into your hand which elicits a laugh from you and turns a smirk into a smile. You're rutting against her ass, savouring the feeling of your hips hitting her soft flesh. Ample curves along with a narrow waist begging you to embrace her. A pretty little thing taking all your cock and urging you on. It's hard not to go harder. "Need you."

"Careful what you wish for," you whisper as she tries to lean back her head in bliss.

Her tongue brushes your knuckles, and the soft sweep feels like a warm, wet invitation to probe further. A few seconds of uncertainty follows, and then her mouth closes around the tips of your fingers and starts to suck. Sharing the same excitement that has gotten the better of you the past few days of endless debauchery.

You sink your fingers deeper. She sucks harder, her moans stifled behind her pursed lips. Anywhere but here and you would throw her face down on the mattress, fuck her into a state of bliss. Make her beg for you and claw the bedsheets. Such an innocent girl, a girl who should have stayed wrapped in silk and lace, but who demands you take her, just a moment longer, just a bit rougher, and how can you refuse a beauty like that?

Just as Hanni settles and relaxes, her body is dragged into tense peaks of delight. Tiny gasps leak from around your fingers as you thrust deeper. She chokes as she orgasms, digging her nails into the arm that is holding her close, her face going bright pink. Sweat on her temples, on her chest. An earthly aroma of wet skin and hot breaths. She swears and curses the pleasure as you pump your orgasm between her thighs.

You fill her. For a while, you are one, grinding together in mutual fulfilment, breathing heavily and lost in your actions. The mess you're making runs from her sweet cunt, down her thigh, onto the bed.

The rush leaves the both of you exhausted. Hanni does nothing to resist you pulling out and emptying the last few drops over her ass. It is all over as quick as it began. It comes with a strange realisation of how natural it all feels to cum inside Hanni Pham.

-

It's not often that someone you interview not only takes your card, but doesn't immediately throw it away, and actually uses the number on there. You're in the back of a cab when it rings. Today's show has just about finished and while you didn't quite manage to snag another interview like the one you did with Hanni, it has been a good day.

"Did you get enough to write about?" is the first question she asks when you answer.

"I got a few bits here and there. Some surface-level stuff from others, but you gave me the marquee piece. I'll fluff up what I have with the spec sheets released and I'm sure it'll be a nice little exclusive."

"That makes me sound important," she giggles.

"You're a fucking celebrity, of course you are important."

"No need to swear."

"Apologies." There's a momentary pause. You let it linger on the call and soon enough, Hanni's laugh fills the silence.

"I'm kidding. Keep up that energy,"

"So, why are you calling? Usually, when I get a call it's to recant some statement or explain a misquote. Did I make a mess of something?"

"Well, not yet. But I have some ideas."

"Ideas?" You repeat, brows raising.

"Where are you now?" she asks, and for a moment you wonder if you shouldn't be answering.

"Taxi. Headed back to the place I'm staying."

"Where are you staying?" It's a strange question for her to ask, you think. Or maybe, it's not strange at all, but timing and circumstance have you considering the way it sounds.

"A hotel."

"Look to your right," she says, making a confusing request, but you look. Of course, you do. Outside the window, in the next lane over, stuck in the very same traffic as you are, is a familiar face. She gives you the widest grin, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Are you following me?" you joke.

"Do you want me to?" There's something playful in her voice, an attempt at seduction that's not exactly subtle.

"Hanni, what are—"

"Just answer the question," she interrupts.

And that's it. There's no reason to evade the truth. Lying to yourself gets no one anywhere. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good," she murmurs, "you know, I'm still wearing the same outfit as I was at the event. These jeans are getting really uncomfortable." She pulls the phone away from her ear for a second and you hear her call out, "Driver? See that taxi on our left? Follow it, please. And can I get some privacy back here?"

There are some distant sounds from the other side of the phone. An affirmation of orders. Then her voice is right back with you.

"As I was saying, these jeans are really uncomfortable."

"Fashion can hurt," you say flatly.

"You're supposed to tell me to take them off or something. You're not very good at this are you?"

"I didn't realise 'this' is what we were doing." You've developed a stupid fucking smile, even if it's going unseen.

"Hmm, it can be." There is a moment of quiet as if she's thinking. "Hold on a second," Hanni says. There are some vague sounds you can't make out before she comes back to the phone. "Got bored of waiting. Now, keep talking will you? I like the sound of your voice."

"Hanni, what—"

"Just keep talking. Tell me what you think of me." She can't see it, but the look of confusion must be shining bright on your face. At a loss, and under duress, you speak your mind.

"Well, you seem nice." It's a weak first effort. "Very funny, a little confident. You must know you're pretty. Young, but driven." The words you mumble are stilted, but telling the truth.

"Really. You think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Not sexy?"

"Hanni, you're fucking sexy."

"Thanks," her laugh is like bells, ringing through the car. "That's better. What did you think of my outfit?"

"Daring. Not often do I see an idol go completely backless. Risky."

"Sometimes a risk is worth taking."

"Seems so."

"Tell me more. Tell me what was the part you liked the most?" Her voice drops from that relaxed confidence to a pitch that has your head buzzing with possibility.

"Nice waist. Really looked good with the way those jeans hugged your hips."

There's a long, heavy breath from the other end of the line. Something rustling and then a deep gasp from Hanni.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. Keep talking. Describe me to me." Her voice is fraught with need, a small tremble in each word.

"Okay." That was permission, or demand, whichever is. You swallow before continuing. "Backless was a good choice. Your bare skin looks great. I'm sure those pictures are going viral already. Betting they are all over the web, all over people's phones."

"Are we close to your hotel?" Hanni strains out the question as if it were hard to say, every syllable wrought in pain.

"Close."

"Good, are you excited?"

"To?"

"See more of my bare skin."

Fuck. The image floods your mind like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she's right there, unclothed and naked and spread open. Suddenly, she's right there, moaning in pleasure, your cock lodged deep inside her.

"Yes," you groan into the phone. It's a painful admission. "Really, Hanni. Really fucking excited."

"So tell me, what are you excited to see?"

"Your ass. Love the way you wore the jeans just a little too tight. Really framed it."

She whispers, "That's all? Anything else, anything special you wanted to see?"

"Your breasts. Like what the top does. Would like to pull it down and play with those breasts." This whole thing is obscene. You're shamelessly spilling your desire to a girl you just met and she's loving every second of it.

Another soft gasp is heard on the call. It's more than that, it's her panting, short snatches of breath as her little gasps become regular, heated and urgent. "And then what?"

"That's a surprise. We're here." The cab pulls up and her car pulls in behind you.

"Room number?"

"Oh-one-two-two," you say, handing over cash to pay the driver and stepping out. "See you there."

-

It's deep into the night now, and her back is pressed against the wall as you're kissing down her neck. For a young woman who looks ever so innocent, you're quickly learning the taste of her body could have the alcohol industry aflame. She's intoxicating and you're addicted. Lips sucking, teeth pressing lightly against tender flesh.

She told you to not wear a condom, not this time. She described your first load as a waste, a sinful injustice after all the things she had done to wring it from you. So now you're back inside her, thinking only of how you're going to decorate her this time, about the moment you can't hold back any longer and cum, uninhibited, spewing mess over her delicate, flawless little body.

So you're just fucking nailing Hanni against the wall, her leg pulled up and knee hooking around your elbow. Holding her there, pounding her cunt the best you possibly can. Her hands scratch deep lines into your back, and her fingernails leave dull aches along your spine. There's something primal in the way she's urging you to fuck her harder, stronger, faster. She wants all of you, just like you want all of her.

You lift her other leg and hold her there, folded against the drywall. The steady pounding begins to churn her insides, to break her fragile body to the rhythm. She's mewling a mixture of sounds in your ear. Begging. Incoherent sounds of need. Then you feel her cunt clenching and tightening, a sudden strength to the grip she has on your shaft.

Hanni screams your name, howling it at the ceiling and the walls while you drive her ever deeper through an orgasm that's torn apart her expression. Utter beauty, sheer excellence. Her quivering pleasure comes with warmth between the two of you. She cums so hard that she goes limp in your arms. Your legs really begin to strain as you pump her full of cock, and her lips find yours again.

Your kisses are savage, the gnashing of teeth and the crush of lips. She's asking for more. Demanding more.

So you throw her to the bed, turning her over and she instinctively drags herself to her knees. Her palms run to the edge of the bed, clawing the blankets as you climb behind her.

"Do you like my ass?" She breathes. Your grip finds the firm flesh with purpose.

"Love your ass," you mutter, taking a hold and angling her towards you.

"Then fuck me." Hanni arches deep, pushing her soft ass in the air and pressing her tits against the mattress. She backs right up to you, begging to be fucked, once more.

The penetration is perfect. Balls deep inside this horny little girl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it as leverage. It's hard, it's fast, it's a brutal rut. A sweaty, wet fuck driven by nothing but raw need. She's too wet, too accommodating, clapping herself against your pelvis, meeting your every thrust.

It's not the time to think. Simply let instinct take over. Leaning into it and fucking her.

More words spill from her mouth. More dirty, lewd praises that have your balls aching. It won't be long now. Every muscle, straining with effort, pulls taut. It's such a fucking trip. This once innocent-looking person sucking the life right from the core of your being, bending over for you to force a hand along her spine and bend her further.

"Cum on me," she whimpers again and again. Over and over. She's pleading with you. "Please, cum on me. On my back. Cover me."

There's no further thought, no plan, no point of focus. Everything narrows down to the slick friction around your shaft, and your stomach starting to become strained from the endless effort. To how her ass shakes as your fuck yourself to the edge and how she cranes her neck to watch you.

At the very last moment, you draw out of her and jerk yourself, quick and urgent motions of your wrist. Hanni's knees give way and she lies flat, looking back and watching you as you start to cover her.

The first spurts land high, just beneath her hair. They collect and pool before forming and dripping forward along her shoulder blades. The next spreads across her shoulders. A thin coating that has you shiver as it lands. It goes on and on until you're slathering her in thick lines and ropes.

Something about the sight is so fitting, so delectable, as she lays there and writhes with need, adoring the feeling of being bathed in your lust.

Her expression is an aphrodisiac as she cries out in ecstasy. Her tongue runs across her lips, and then she lets out a soft lass before crashing her face into the soft bedsheets with a moan. Your fist is still pumping rope after rope of cum across her until every muscle feels drained, and you manage to collapse beside her on the bed. You trace a finger across her smooth, plump ass as you catch your breath.

"This is the life," Hanni gasps. "If I could just have endless sex, the world would be a far happier place."

-

You could have been forgiven for thinking it would be a one-off. Just one night of wild sex together before going your separate ways and never speaking again. A nice memory of a beautiful girl to always sit fondly at the back of your mind.

But the very next night, you're in her hotel bathroom. Sharing a bath together, her back pressed flush to your front. You can't fucking resist running a hand between her thighs, working gently over her cunt to hear the wonderful noises she makes.

"Please," she whispers over and over, grinding against your touch.

Ordinarily, you might tease her, and have her beg a little more, but there's nothing more enthralling than the sounds and sights of Hanni's face when she cums. So instead, you're knuckle deep with two fingers and curling them into her cunt, hitting that magic spot just a little more, faster and faster.

On the brink of her second orgasm in ten minutes, Hanni draws a noisy, shuddering breath, the exhalation quickly becoming a sharp, high-pitched wail that fills the bathroom, her eyes glaze as she climaxes. "Fuck. I—that's—more." Her head falls backwards and rests on your shoulder, "yeah, more."

Hanni's petite frame writhes in orgasm. Back arched, panting breaths quickly turning to gasps for air. Eyes flutter and roll backwards before shutting entirely. Every muscle in her tight cunt grips your fingers as waves of pleasure pour from deep inside. She grinds on you, riding the sensation of your touch through the spasms until they finally slow.

"You're so fucking cute when you cum," you kiss her cheek.

It's the compliment that has her rising from the water, she stands in front of you, her wet ass and thighs dripping as she turns toward you. "Me? Cute?" She smirks, lowering herself onto your thighs, resting your cock against her pussy. "Am I really?"

"Cutest fucking thing."

She guides your cock to her wet pussy, sinking down and slowly filling herself, the both of you making a whimper at the sensation. She's in no rush, though. She prefers slow, she favours long, lingering motions where you're all the way inside her and stay there for just a few moments before climbing once more.

Her rhythm has you melting back against the bath. Long, even strokes have her ass lifting and sinking, and she rolls her hips so elegantly that it's natural to reach for her waist and run your hands along her curves.

"I hope you don't think I'm easy," Hanni whispers, her fingers grabbing the hair on the back of your head, locking her hot body against yours, keeping you close, wrapping around you. "But I'm twenty and sex-deprived, so deal with it."

"You're allowed to enjoy sex. Nothing wrong with that," you answer through closed eyes, focusing only on the heat, the skin, the feeling of your cock rubbing through her.

With a mischievous chuckle, she rests her weight on you. Chest to chest, nose against nose.

"Careful," she whispers, her voice fluttering in between soft sighs of excitement. "I could get used to having a man around. Someone willing to get me off, over and over again. You might be stuck with me. Wouldn't that be scandalous? A reporter who's secretly fucking a star like me?"

That alluring, seductive voice makes your body tense. Her kiss threatens to undo you right then and there. She's riding you harder now, bouncing her ass in your lap. Driving the pleasure, the friction, harder and deeper.

"I have a confession to make," you speak with heavy breaths, trying to restrain yourself. "I think I could get used to this. Every day. If I could."

"It's a deal then. How about we celebrate by letting you blow a load inside me? Would you like that?" She nibbles at your earlobe, giggling as she sucks it between her lips. "How good would it feel to feel your hot, thick cum slide all the way up inside me?"

"So fucking good."

"And maybe tomorrow I'll keep you inside me and let you fill me all over again, and maybe I'll do the same the day after." There's a devilish smile across her face as she continues, "I'll ride you again and again and again..."

She keeps repeating it, the word stamped into your head over and over and each time she says it, she drives her hips down into you. Hard. The water ripples. Her ass slaps the tops of your thighs. It's a relentless rhythm, an insistent grind, a desperate desire for more.

"You're filthy," you tell her as you take a firm grip on her ass, her flesh filling your grasp and the muscles rippling through her skin as she moves.

"Maybe. Maybe I am, and maybe you like it." She laughs. A sound as sweet as honey.

"You know I do."

"Then show me how much. Fill me. Let it go."

That's all you need, just her words and the way she fucks you. She's the one doing all the work, and it's all the reason you need to relax and let the bliss consume you.

Hanni is kissing you when it hits. She swallows your groans of release, sucking them into her lungs. Her hands press down into your shoulders, nails sinking deep into your skin.

She doesn't stop moving, not once. Keeps grinding. She maintains the pace until you can't take any more. Until there's nothing left. Only then does she ease her motion, settling onto your lap, keeping you deep in her.

"That was amazing," she sighs.

"Fucking was."

[bunny-jpeg]

I have a big order, I would like a peach cake, pancakes and add a lemon slice to that then I’d like a side of earl grey and chai served by Lando Norris xx

bakery menu

want to submit something to the bakery? then hit up the menu! there's tons of items to choose from! i hope you find something that you love and i'd love to hear from you! thank you! for this order, this was lovely to write after my little (two day) hiatus! i hope you love it, lovely anon!

peach cake ("if you spill a drop, we start all over.") + pancakes ("if you bite me. i'll bite you back.") + lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.") + early grey tea (big cock) + chai (biting/hickies) served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, big cock!lando, biting/hickies, unprotected sex, (slight) breeding kink, (sort of) brat!reader, size kink, oral sex (lando receiving)

lando liked when you pouted. when he watched the bottom lip stick out and those sweet lashes fluttered at him. it was painfully cute in his honest opinion. when you'd pout over something sad, or when you wanted something really badly and would do anything to get your hands on it.

but while lando liked a better look at your soft bottom lip, he hated when you were a brat.

currently lando had you between his legs, with your throat gagging on his cock. your eyes closed and your hands gripping onto his thighs for some kind of leverage as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go.

fuck lando norris and his big cock.

he loved the sight of you though, a total mess after you meticulously put yourself together for the grand prix. reduced down to a lowly little slut for lando to use to his liking while riding the high of his win. earlier you wanted to go out after the race with some of the other girlfriends, but lando wanted you back at the hotel with him.

letting him indulge in his favourite post-race activity, making a mess of that sweet little cunt of yours. he loved your cunt, he was addicted to it in some ways. he wanted to be buried deep inside of you and kissing at your back until you were whining on the sheets.

"how does that feel? finally got some sense into you?" he asked.

you looked up at him and tried to form words, but it all came out a jumbled mess. you leaned into his touch as he ran his fingers through your hair with a hint of affection.

but his words were venomous, "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." and it made you stomach flip. he pulled your mouth off his cock and you looked at him with a hazy gaze.

your throat felt raw, but in a split second decision. you leaned in and bit a hickey into the inner part of lando's thigh to feel that thrum of pleasure in your body. but you didn't get it too dark before lando ripped your head away and you looked up at him once more.

he chuckled lowly, "silly, silly girl. is this your revenge for me suggesting that we stay in tonight. i haven't felt you in a long time. is that a bad thing to way? to feel you?"

you replied, "lando."

"remember, baby girl. if you bite me. i'll bite you back." and you knew that it wasn't some kinky talk. he meant it. you still remembered your trip to paris in summer, and you in high collared jackets and turtlenecks. lando liked your pretty neck and breasts all covered in his bites.

you were his to mark. to claim.

you whimpered and kept your eyes on his. you felt a twist in your belly and a surge of heat in your body. everything felt very hot and you rubbed your thighs together.

"fuck, you're beautiful. see, no need to be a brat. just let me have you, i promise i'm just as good as any club or bar. why have a few drinks when you can have a few of my loads in your mouth."

you pouted and he helped you onto the bed. his spit-slick cock twitched with excitement over how you looked at him. his heart leapt as he got you onto your back, he knew you were soaked. you needed this too.

he pressed his chest against yours and tapped your nose, "remember our rule? if you spill a drop, we start all over." then pulled you into a tight kiss, the taste of his cock lingered on your lips as he sank it inside of your sickeningly sweet hole.

you whined and gripped onto the covers under you for a moment before you wrapped your arms around him and held him close. your lips remained together as he got your legs around his waist.

you two rutted against one another, the feeling left you feeling excited. being so close to lando made you stomach twist and your heart hammer against your ribs.

"you're so pretty under me. who allowed you to be this beautiful." he groaned as he held your thighs to get a better angle of his cock inside of you. he loved when you went dumb for him after a few thrusts. your poor little cunt. the sweet drooling little thing that always enticed him. day in and day out.

"please, lando." you squirmed a little bit as you felt his cock nudge against some of the softest parts of you. your stomach curled and you held onto his shoulders tighter. your poor little cunt was going to be bruised by the end of this.

"i know, baby girl. let me have this, let me have your sweet little cunt. you drive me crazy." his thrusts were fast and erratic, there was little rhythm to them. only that he gets his pleasure in your brain.

he started to kiss at your neck, soon his teeth were grazing against the soft plains of your neck. he could feel your pulse under his teeth. he fit against you perfectly, even if his larger cock seemed to make your insides all messy.

the first time you got together, he actually didn't fit inside of you. he had to work you until he could at least get the tip in. when he did though, it felt like total euphoria.

he loved the feeling of you around him. you were a perfect fit for him. he couldn't get enough of your sweetness. letting it stain the base of his cock in a sick desire for more. no wonder he was so hesitant to let you go out and party.

he was your big strong man, your protector and lover. his blood boiled for you in a sexual way. he wanted hid sweet girl, and he wanted to be balls deep inside of her. blame him for being aroused by you.

he eyed are you as he moved against you, "you take me so well."

"lando."

he chuckled and kissed you once more. he could feel the heat in his gut as he moved against you. you felt like a sweet dream to him. his core burned for you as he moved. it felt so good to be balls deep inside of you, it was like where he belonged. he needed to be inside of his sweet girl.

"please, shit, lando. you feel so good. fuck." you whimpered as you tried to arch your back to get him deeper inside of you. but he had you pinned under him as he littered your neck with hot bites. you felt so good, maybe he was right. why get drunk when you could get cock drunk!

"i'm glad you like it. see isn't be with me much better. you get your pretty, puffy pussy all fucked out by me."

he didn't know how much longer it was going to take for him. he could feel the thump in his chest and his hot face. he continued to ram into you, making sure every centimeter of your pussy was touched by him.

"pretty thing." he purred with a chuckle as he continued to fuck you rapidly. it all flooded his head with heat.

with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips. he finished inside of you, but his cock was still hard as he hammered into you. which in turn pulled an orgasm out of you, you held onto him tightly and kissed him as you came. you clenched onto him and melted into the kiss. you soon relaxed out on the bed.

spread out for him, full of cum and feeling good all over. you shifted a little as lando put your legs down onto the bed. cum stuck to the side of your pussy and a little got onto the bed. he admired your for a moment and pulled your face in for a hot kiss.

you stayed curled up inside of him. but as he held you, his soft words came into your ear, "hmm. seems you spilled a drop, baby girl." then put you back onto your back, "guess we have to try again." <3

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Wifey Shiesty (Slight NSFW)

See Me Through You Series

Synopsis: After giving her husband a much needed pep talk, we get Wifey's version of mic'd up during the Bengals vs. Broncos game

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: @mirrorballgirlie25 and an anon 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The level of excitement that you had when you woke up around eleven in the morning was unmatched as you sat up against the headboard for confirmation.

One of the few days that you didn't have any morning sickness.

It was evident that Joe was already awake seeing as he wasn't lying next to you and could faintly hear the shower running in the bathroom signaling that he was getting ready to head to Paycor to take on the Denver Broncos.

There was a lot riding on this game, but you had done your usual routine with making his favorite foods and giving him pep talks. Joe's bag that he would be carrying when he left was sitting on the bed and you quickly pulled out your stationary set and wrote a small note to stick in there.

You got this, Shiesty.

I love you,

Wifey

You did this before every game whether it was at home or away and Joe kept every single one and had it organized by season.

You would usually also get up early and go into the bathroom and also write notes for him on the mirror so that way he would also wake up and see them.

When you were finished, you closed his bag and was caught off guard by arms wrapping around you and a kiss being placed on your cheek.

“Good morning Mr. Shiesty.” You told him as you turned around to properly hug him.

“Good morning baby girl. No morning sickness? Did my baby actually get to sleep? I didn't hear you get up at all.”

“I actually slept for once so hopefully I'll have energy for the game.” You replied as he then leaned down to kiss you.

Joe let out a deep sigh and you immediately knew what to do.

“Okay, baby. We got this. I know how important this game is and that we want to make the playoffs, but just get through each quarter and take your time. Either way it goes today, I am so fucking proud of you. This has truly been your best season and you keep silencing the people who hate on you every single time. Like breaking records and breaking some of your own too? You were drafted number one for a reason. Now go out there today and show them why. I love you and as promised I will be in your suite cheering you on.”

The smile that broke out on Joe’s face was huge as he leaned down to kiss you once more in response.

“I just… it’s so much pressure on my shoulders. But at the same time it is what it is.”

“Baby, you’re the quarterback if you didn’t realize it until just now.” You joked with him and he let out a small laugh.

“I hadn’t noticed and I love you too. Thank you for the pep talks that you always give me. It may not seem like a big deal, but it is.”

“Of course, my love. Always going to be in your corner rooting for you.”

“And the same goes for you, it’s just in a different way now.” Joe replied as he glanced down at your leg and saw the surgical scars staring back at him as he lightly ran his fingers over them.

He couldn't think about it for too long since it would make him upset, but every day, he woke up grateful that you were still here able to do life with him. He couldn't have imagined what happened if you weren't. Becoming a widow a few months after you get married was something that was constantly running through his thoughts when you had gotten hurt.

The pain was still evident even if you didn't talk about it much, not wanting to make your husband worry. He did enough of that when he thought he would be planning your funeral.

Being pregnant, the only thing that you were able to take for pain was tylenol and some days that just wasn’t cutting it. But the last thing you were about to do was risk the health of your twins.

“Is it bothering you today?”

“So far, so good.”

“Just remember to bring some medicine with you. Don't want you sitting there in pain.”

“I'll put some in my bag, promise.”

“Good, pack some heat packs too just in case.”

“Oh, and I have a little surprise. Ja’Marr actually came up with it so you can thank him for it.”

“And what’s that?” Joe asked as he was starting to get dressed.

“I’m going to be mic’d up during the game for me and Taylor’s podcast so do your best to not give your wife a panic attack or send her into labor because it is way too early.”

Joe threw his head back in laughter because he knew how you would get during the games.

“I’ll try my best, but no promises. I can’t wait to watch it later.”

“But for now, I'll go make you some food while you get ready.”

“No need, baby. I got up early and ate.” Joe told you and in response you made a face at him.

“Baby doll, your morning sickness has been horrible lately. I wanted you to sleep. I have the ability to make myself something to eat and not burn down the kitchen in the process. Give me credit where credit is due.”

“But I ALWAYS make you food on game days when you play at home and sometimes you have dessert and eat me out before you leave. It's our thing!”

“I know, but you can make us something later when we win and I can eat you out later. That can definitely be arranged.”

“Fine, I'm holding you to that.”

“Good, now give me kisses.” Joe told you as he was now sitting down on the bed and pulled you onto his lap.

You gave him a few kisses before kissing the side of his mouth and laying your head on his shoulder.

“You're lucky you just took a shower and need to get ready because I want to bite you so bad right now.”

“AHT AHT! Baby do not start, as much as I want to, I can't rearrange your guts all day.”

“But you can do it all night.” You replied while smirking as you picked your head up to look at him.

“See? This is why you're pregnant now.”

“Don't blame it on me, you had something to do with it too.” You scolded him as he kissed the tip of your nose.

Suddenly Joe’s phone went off and he turned around to grab it and saw it was Ja'Marr calling and quickly answered.

“Stop swapping spit with my sister and let's go.”

“Damn, good morning to you too uno.” Joe replied as he rolled his eyes.

“And how do you even know what I was doing?” Joe asked and even though he couldn't see him, he knew that he was rolling his eyes.

“Joe, don't piss me off before we even get in the locker room on this nice Saturday. Yall can’t keep your hands to yourself for thirty seconds. I'll be at your front door in 15 minutes. Bye.”

After Joe hung up all he did was toss his phone to the side before kissing you once more.

“See you at 4:30?”

“See you at 4:30.”

—

Arriving at Paycor, security quickly escorted you as well as Erin to Joe's suite where you would meet up with Jim and Robin. Robin had already sent a text letting you know that they had just gotten there and the only thing on your mind was food and watching Joe and your baby brother play.

The entire episode of you being mic'd up would be recorded on your phone and you would upload it after the game was over whether the Bengals walked away with a win or not.

Once you had gotten settled and got everything set up how you wanted it, you set your phone to record.

“Hello my Woman Cave listeners. Wifey Shiesty here and you’re in for a little treat today. As you can see, I'm in my husband's suite at the game with my in-laws, and my best friend Erin and you guys are getting my version of mic'd up! I did tell Joe prior to him leaving the house this morning and I told him to do his best not to give me a panic attack, so let's see how this goes.”

First quarter

“Okay, yall have to do better than this if we want a playoff spot. Because what are we even doing right now?”

–

“Did you really just get sacked twice in a row?! O-line protect my husband, please! It is LITERALLY YOUR JOB.”

–

“Uh oh baby brother is making faces. He's getting annoyed. I am too Bam Bam, I am too.”

–

“WHAT!? The first quarter can't be over already. We have literally done nothing.”

–

Second quarter

“Baby! What are….? I gave you a pep talk this morning and this is NOT how this was supposed to go.”

–

“The babies are hungry again. Erin, can you get me more mozzarella sticks? Cheese has been my main food group since I got pregnant.”

–

“AHHH TOUCHDOWN! YEAH TEE! I guess he didn't want his mom cussing him out again. She really let him have it.”

–

“Okay, we got something going, feeling a little better. Oh, are those buffalo wings? I needed those like 6 hours ago. I don't care about the heartburn that I'm about to have after. The babies are getting some spice today. I have tums in my purse.”

–

Third quarter

“And, we're back. The babies were playing kickball with my bladder. I'm definitely going to drink this lemonade though.”

–

“Ehh, okay we're kicking. Fine, that'll get us ten.”

–

“NO! HE CAUGHT IT! NOW IT'S TIED.”

–

“Okay, we still have time. We got this. Can I have a milkshake delivered to the stadium? I want one. Never mind. Joe will get me one on the way home.”

–

“Erin, did you see Joe’s and Ja'marr's outfits today? Like WHO ARE THESE DIVAS? But I picked out Joey's last night. I wanted to bite him before he left, but he told me no.”

–

Fourth quarter

“Tee again with the touchdown!”

–

“Damn it! It's tied again. I literally told Joe NOT to give me a panic attack or make my water break and it's clear and evident that he in fact did not listen.”

–

“Oh! Is he in!? IS HE IN!? My husband is the shit yall. Get it baby! TOUCHDOWN!”

–

“Wait a minute… is he…? Is he doing the griddy? See that's the black wife effect for you. And of course Ja'Marr co-signed it. He got more rhythm when he married me.”

–

“Okay, clock is winding down. We can do this. Not that much longer to go.”

–

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!? Oops, babies don't repeat that. It's tied again!”

–

“Overtime it is. I need to pee again and I'm hungry. These children need to chill out with the food requests.”

–

Overtime

“Okay dad got me nachos. I'm okay now, we're back in business. Shoutout to Paycor. Yall have the good cheese.”

–

“I can't watch anymore and need to close my eyes.”

–

“Well that lasted for a total of thirty seconds.”

–

“OH! OKAY HE’S AT THE TWO! TEE'S AT THE TWO! Yall better not fuck this up.”

–

“HE GOT IT!”

–

“I'm happy we won, but I need to sit here for a minute before I go to the tunnel. Bottom line is put some respect on my husband's name. As of now he is literally the only person in the history of the NFL to have 250 pass yards but 3 pass touchdowns in 8 straight games. So unless you can do that, don't talk to me. And, I rest my case. Now it's time for my milkshake and to hug my husband and baby brother.”

When Joe spotted you in the tunnel, he was all smiles and quickly made his way over to you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Proud of you, babe.” You told him as you reached up to pinch his cheek.

“Your pep talk definitely helped this morning. Just took us a minute to find our rhythm.” Joe replied as he started to play with the ends of your hair, something that he did more often than not.

“Speaking of rhythm, that griddy was too clean. You should have heard me and Erin yelling.” You told him and he couldn't help but to laugh.

“It's the black wife effect. Can't be around you and your family all the time and walk away with nothing.” He casually said as he shrugged and you busted out laughing.

“And just wait until you hear my mic'd up episode.”

“Please tell me you're kept it somewhat appropriate. I never know with you.”

“Well, babe, I didn't say anything about me turning you every way but loose once we leave here if that's what you mean.” You sweetly said while batting your eyelashes at him.

“I… I guess I'll take it then.”

“BIG SIS!” You heard Ja'Marr yell and quickly yelled back at him as he was running towards you.

“LIL BRO!”

Ja'Marr promptly picked you up and hugged you before setting your back down on your feet.

“You see your husband's griddy?” He asked and Joe simply smirked at the both of you.

“He just told me that it's the black wife effect.”

“I have to agree, this man has a grill now, seasons his food, still holding onto the pumpkin pie, but I'll let it slide today. Maybe one day he'll accept that it honestly tastes like sweet potato pie with low self-esteem.” He replied and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Bye Ja'Marr!”

“What!? Did I lie!?”

“No, but I need a milkshake babe. Go do your presser so I can get one on the way home.”

“I need another kiss before I do.” He told you as Ja'Marr made a gagging noise.

“Yall make me sick.”

“Then look away.” Joe told him as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You would think that it's been forty days and forty nights since the two of you saw each other last.”

“And we're ignoring you.”

–

“Fuck! That's it, pretty girl.” Joe whispered in your ear as he had wrapped his arms around you as you continued to ride him.

The ride home honestly felt like torture with you both trying to keep your hands off one another and forget the bedroom. The two of you barely made it through the front door as clothes were thrown off and left in a pile as you were now on the couch riding him.

The two of you learned pretty quickly that ever since you had gotten pregnant and you were now obviously showing since there wasn't just one in there, but two, the most comfortable positions for you were either riding him or laying down on your side and Joe was not complaining in the slightest.

However Joe was then abruptly confused when you had suddenly stopped and proceeded to swing your legs off of him and his protests were quickly heard.

“Babe, I was close. What the hell?” He asked as you had now spread his legs to make room and got down on your knees in front of him.

“Then how about you shut up and stop complaining? I got down here so you could face fuck me, but I will gladly get back up.”

“You're going to regret getting smart with me before the night is over.”

“Mm hmm, sure Burrow.” You responded as you rolled your eyes. You had done that on purpose because the adrenaline from winning the game mixed with him getting annoyed by your smart mouth would lead to him not showing you any mercy and that was exactly what you wanted.

Doing as he was told, Joe moved closer to the end of the couch as you took him in your mouth. Your hair kept ending up getting in the way, and he decided to help you as he put it into a makeshift ponytail which also led to him being able to have a better hold on you as he sped up his pace of him moving in and out of your mouth.

“You're doing such a good job, princess.”

A mix of sweat, tears, and drool was running down your face as he kept hitting the back of your throat. Your jaw was definitely sore, but you weren't quitting any time soon and was determined to see it all the way through until Joe got his release.

Being able to finally come up for air, Joe moved your head all the way back making you lose contact with him when he leaned forward to kiss you before sliding back into your mouth.

“Come on, baby. You gonna make me cum?” Joe asked as he finally released his hold on you.

Once he did, between the use of your mouth along with your hand it was only a matter of time.

You felt the first drop hit the back of your throat and was soon followed by a string of curse words from his mouth as you were trying to swallow the full load.

“You better swallow it. The entire thing.” He told you as he lightly tapped your cheek. It took you a minute but once you did, you also ran your finger along your cheek and chin to get what had dribbled out and sucked on your fingers.

“Good girl.”

Joe then picked you back up to sit in his lap and kissed you before turning to the side and laying down while taking you by your hips to move you up so you would be right above his face.

“I promised to eat you out, didn't I?” Joe asked you as he kissed all along your thighs.

“Yes.”

“Now stay still.”

--

Liked by joeyb_9, thewomancave, taylorrooks, lahjay10_, cincinattibengals, and 867,254 others

wifeyshiesty: the black wife effect lol now put some respect on my baby's name! so proud of you pookie!

My mic'd up episode will be released at midnight!

lahjay10_: I taught him that at the cookout. they grow up so fast. taylorrooks: I can't wait to hear the episode and talk about it! erinthegymnast: when he hit that griddy, me and wifey screamed so loud we're surprised they didn't hear us out on the field joeybfanatic: OMG not wifey being mic'd up lmao I absolutely love her on the woman cave so I'm excited for the unhinged shit that I know she's about to say joeyb_9: she's been unhinged since I met her, but I wouldn't have it any other way lahjay10_: joeyb_9 bruh I warned your ass and you still married her wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ I know where you live (3 houses down) so get yourself together before I bust through your front door lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty if you can reach the handle to get in joeyb_9: pause, let me grab a snack to watch this go down joeburrowupdates: lmaooo not joe wanting his wife to beat her little brother's ass lahjay10_: she's all talk, she won't do anything joeyb_9: uh ja'marr she just put on her slides and grabbed her keys, I would make a run for it if I were you 👀

[ennkis]

hi, i love your writing can you do one where marc guiu is secretly dating lewandoski's daughter and he finds out?

MR LEWANDOWSKI (marc guiu x lewandowski!reader)

summary : in which the polish barcelona player finds out his daughter is dating his teammate

face claim : no-one exact

notes : ty for the request !! im gonna do some requests asap (theres like twenty so plsplspls be patient <3) also im gonna go on vacation soon so ill be less active.

pairings : marc guiu x fem!lewandowski!reader

BEING THE DAUGHTER of the Polish striker, Robert Lewandowski, came with its perks. Some of the benefits was the opportunity to meet your favorite players, attend exclusive events, and see important matches, such as the World Cup and UCL Finals. But managing the constant media attention and living up to the Lewandowski name were only two of the challenges that came with it. The hardest challenge of them all was keeping your relationship with the Barcelona striker, Marc Guiu, a secret.

You knew dating Marc was going to make you slightly insane. The constant hiding and sneaking around was annoying, tbh.. But if you managed to keep this a secret for over seven months, you sure weren't going to fuck it up now.

Hector quickly caught onto your little facade. All three of you were classmates, and it was clear by the looks you exchanged across the classroom, the way Marc spoke to Hector about you, and just the overall way he admired you. Hector was certain you were dating.

Him knowing would actually come in handy. It was a little easier to keep the secret when Hector was on your side. When needed, he helped cover for you by coming up with excuses in case your dad was on the edge of figuring things out.

One afternoon, while your father was out, Marc came over to your house. It was a unique chance for the two of you to have the house to yourselves, and you both wanted to make the most of it.

You were in your room, cuddling on your bed with Marc as a movie was playing on your laptop. It was relaxing, finally a moment of comfort without any worries or the anxiety of getting caught.

"This is nice," Marc murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I wish we could do this more often."

"Me too," you replied, pulling in closer to him. "But you're aware of my dad's history with my ex-boyfriends. If he found out, he would freak out."

Marc sighed as he played with the strings on your hoodie. "I know. Yet, sometimes I picture us going out on a typical date night. No concerns about your father catching us. You know maybe if he got used to our relationship, he could come along."

Playfully poking Marc with your shoulder, you mocked, "Are you using me to date my father?"

Marc gave you a gentle giggle and an amused look as his eyes met yours. "Maybe I am," he answered. "But in all honesty, I just want to go out with you—no sneaking around, just a regular 'I'll have her home by nine, sir' type date."

"Wow, real cute, Marc." Just as you were about to lean in for a kiss, you heard the front door open. Your heart stopped, as you and Marc exchanged panicked and confused looks.

"Oh fuck. He's not supposed to be back yet," you whispered urgently, scrambling off the bed. "You have to hide. Like now."

Marc quickly got up, looking around the room for a hiding spot. "WHAT?! Where should I go?!"

"Jesus Christ, Marc. I don't know just.. just get under the bed or something!" you whispered, trying to keep your voice down.

Just as your father yelled something from the living room, Marc dove under the bed. "Y/n? You home?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before opening your bedroom door. "Yeah, What's up?"

He walked down the hallway, a frown on his face. "I thought I left my other keys here. Have you seen them?"

You shook your head, trying to look casual. "Nah, I haven't seen them. Maybe you left them in the locker room after training?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. I'll call someone to check if someone found them. Are you okay? You seem... off."

"I'm good, Dad," you said quickly, hoping he couldn't hear the nervousness in your voice. "Just tired, I guess.."

He looked at you for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. Well, I'm going to head back out then. Let me know if you find the keys."

As he turned to leave, you heard a muffled cough from under the bed. Your eyes widened in horror as your father stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

"What was that?" he asked, turning back to you.

"What do you mean" you said quickly, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "I didn't hear anything. Is your hearing alright?"

"Hey, I'm still only 35 years young. Anyways, I'll just head out, I guess. See you later, honey." He said as he walked out the front door.

As you walked down the hallway to reach your room, you exclaimed, "Marc, what the fuck was that? The one time you NEED to be quiet, you actually cough. How on earth is that possible?"

"Hey, I didn't put all that dust under your bed," he playfully said while hugging you. "Calm down, babe. He didn't even see me."

"Yeah, but he heard your silly ass. Anyways you should just go. He might come back soon."

At least three hours had passed before your dad returned, which was kind of annoying because you had the chance to finish the movie and still had two hours left to hang out without interruptions.

"Hey honey, I'm back home," your dad said as he walked into the house. You were sitting on the couch, watching Suits (a goated show btw).

Your dad's voice startled you, making you jump slightly. You quickly paused the show and turned to face him. "Hey Dad," you replied.

He looked around the living room with a curious expression. His eyes fell upon the hoodie that Marc gave to you. The hoodie that exclusively Barcelona players got. His brow furrowed slightly as he picked it up, examining it with a puzzled look.

"Whose hoodie is this?" he asked.

You swallowed nervously, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. "Oh, uh, that's Marc's," you said, mentally cursing yourself for not changing beforehand. "He gave it to me last week."

Robert's gaze shifted from the hoodie to you, his expression unreadable. "Marc's?"

"Yeah," you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "We… we've been hanging out a lot. Last week i was cold so he gave it to me."

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge your sincerity. "Hanging out," he echoed, more a statement than a question.

You nodded again, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "Okay, yeah. So, Dad, we've been dating for.. a while now."

His eyes widened in surprise, shocked expression on his face. But he didn't look angry. Instead, he let out a slow breath and nodded.

As he stared at you for what felt like an eternity, processing the information, he finally spoke out, his voice calm yet tinged with disbelief, "You and Marc... have been dating?"

"I… I didn't know how you'd react," you admitted, feeling a pinch of guilt for keeping it from him. "And I didn't want you to worry."

Robert leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I see," he said. "And how long has this 'while' been?"

Marc cleared his throat, speaking up, "About seven months, Mr. Lewandowski."

Your dad looked at Marc with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Marc? What are you doing here?" he asked, seeing him in the living room unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Y/n messaged me to come over, so I did," Marc spoke out, trying to explain his sudden arrival.

"Sorry for not telling you sooner, Mr. Lewandowski," he said earnestly. "We didn't mean to keep it from you."

Robert eased his expression and laughed. "I understand," he softly said in response. "While I can't say I'm not surprised, I appreciate your honesty. Also, Marc, we've known each other for some time now. Just call me as usual." Your father joked with his teammate, your boyfriend.

You felt a wave of relief when you realized he wasn't upset. To be honest, he looked more interested than angry. "So, what do you think, Dad?" You questioned him.

Robert leaned forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, if Marc here has managed to win your heart for seven months without my knowledge, he must be doing something right," he said, his tone teasing yet approving.

Marc and you exchanged a relieved smile as you felt the tension ease. Despite his reputation for being serious, Your dad has surprised you today by showing you compassion and comprehension.

You said, "Thank you, Dad," appreciating his understanding.

He chuckled loudly and replied. "Please just promise me that you will keep me updated. I'm happy for you both."

It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming feeling of relief. The secret was finally out.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (27/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Cuddles and snuggles with friends are totally normal. But sleeping on top of each other?

Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

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A/N: if seems very rushed, I'm deeply sorry. I just didn't know how to write this chapter. feedback is appreciated (as always, please and thank you!)

As a cold gust of wind blows around your heads, you snuggle a little closer to Charles. 

"Are you cold?" he whispers into your hair and strokes your spine with his fingertips, giving you goose bumps. Something he uses as a reason to tighten his arms around you. 

The fire in front of you is almost out, with only a few logs crackling in the bowl in front of you, providing the last bit of warmth in the dark December night. The thin blanket wrapped around you doesn't do much to keep out the cold wind. As you start to shiver, Charles pushes you off his lap.

"I'll add some more wood. Hopefully you'll be a bit warmer then," he smiles gently and gets up from the couch. 

"It's okay," you reply and start to fold the blanket in your lap. "It's already late. We can just go home." 

But your roommate shakes his head. "We can still stay here." 

"But -"

"I still want to stay here." His tone sounds almost desperate. "Please."

When you look into his eyes, there's a warm sparkle in them. And when he smiles, the sweet dimples bore into his cheeks, and you can do nothing but return his smile. "Let's go then. It's freezing."

You watch him take some logs from the corner by the patio door and place them in the almost burnt-out fire bowl. While you stretch out on the sofa cushions and snuggle back into the blanket, he lights a new fire. The light from the flames illuminates his face and gives it a golden glow. 

You rest your head in your hand. "I didn't know you were so good at starting a fire." 

Charles, kneeling on the other side of the fire bowl, can't help but grin. His gaze flickers from the flames in front of him to you. "There are a few things I'm good at that you don't know about." He licks his lips once before straightening up and taking the few steps to the couch. His eyes move from your face to your covered body. "Is there room for me too?"

You raise your eyebrows before pulling your knees up a little so he can sit at the other end of the couch. "Here you go."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Nuh-uh." Before you know it, he slides his arms under your body and lifts you off the couch - without much effort. "We'll share the space. It's fair." He sets you on your feet and pushes the blanket into your hand, then stretches out on the sofa so quickly that you can't protest. He clasps his hands behind his head and grins at you. 

You, on the other hand, cross your arms in front of your chest. "I think we have different definitions of 'sharing'." As he slips an inch, you have to suppress a smile. "And apparently also of 'fair'."

"I think it's very fair," he defends himself, dropping one arm to his side so that it's between his body and the backrest. "I'm lying on the couch and you're lying on top of me." He shrugs, as if it's no big deal that he wants you to lie with your body on top of his. "Come on. I thought you were cold. And standing around isn't going to help you warm up."

You step from one foot to the other. "You sure?"

Charles rests his head on the armrest of the couch before spreading his arms out. "Come on. We sleep in a bed at home. There's not much difference here."

Not much difference. 

You feel your heart pounding. "There's a big difference between lying on top of each other and lying next to each other." 

Charles sighs loudly before sitting up and reaching for your hand. You can't resist as he pulls you towards him with all his strength, almost causing you to trip over your own feet. The blanket falls to the floor and thank God you can support yourself with your free hand, otherwise you would have landed on his face. 

"Charles!" 

Your friend wraps his arm around you so that you don't slip off him or land on the edge of the sofa. His cold fingers slide under your sweater and find their firm place at your side, while his free hand lifts the blanket from the floor and spreads it over the both of you. You have no choice but to lay your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. 

"It's not so bad, is it?" he murmurs into your hairline and kisses the top of your head, making your heart beat faster. You just hope he can't feel it. 

"For being so muscular, you're pretty comfortable," you confess, playing with his fingers as they continue to hold your hand. "Not as comfortable as the couch, but I'm not complaining."

You feel Charles' body shake beneath you. He laughs. "I can lie on top of you if you want." His fingertips slide further from your side and almost slide under your body. He presses you tightly against him. "Then I'd crush you. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. The closer, the warmer."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and press your face into his chest. 

You're a little surprised that Charles turned the last remnant of his two-year relationship into ashes a few hours ago and is now making these kinds of comments. He even cried. But maybe that's what he needs. A friendship that goes deeper than shallow conversations and coffee dates. 

Maybe he needs the closeness, emotionally and physically. Something he can hold on to when the roof falls on his head. Someone who pushes him to be better, but also brings him back down to earth when he takes off. 

You want to be that person for him. Even if it costs you your heart.

You watch as the individual logs begin to burn. Charles' chest rises and falls beneath you and you feel his warm breath on your forehead as the fire crackles in front of you. Charles' hands change positions; the one that was holding your own a moment ago slides under your sweater to gently stroke your spine, while the other finds its way to your head. With warm fingertips, he brushes some of the hair from your face before he starts scratching your head. 

"Do you want me to fall asleep?" you murmur against his shirt-clad chest. 

"Would that be so bad?" You feel his lips move against the top of your head. Before you know it, you feel them on your forehead as he breathes a soft kiss on your cool skin. 

"Uh-huh." 

"Why? I thought I was comfortable?" His voice is barely louder than a whisper. 

You curl your fingers into his sweater. "Pretty much. You're pretty comfortable," you repeat to yourself. "My bed at home is more comfortable, though."

"Then I'm sorry." 

You twist your neck a little to look at him. You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

He strokes your cheek once with his thumb. "That you have to make do with me." His warm breath caresses your face and although you are literally lying on top of him, you only now realize how close you are. 

You smile tiredly. "Don't worry," you push yourself up a little and press your forehead against his cheek; his beard scratches gently against your skin. "My bed may be comfortable, but you're still my favorite."

Charles' lips kiss the tip of your nose before he kisses your forehead once more. "You're my favorite too, mon amour." His long arms wrap around your body under the covers, holding you close as the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep. 

You dream of peonies, pasta, red cars and lightning and warm lips on yours. Of strong arms that wrap around you, a body that lies on top of yours. You dream of Charles, his smile and the warmth he radiates. And only when his body moves beneath you do you slowly wake up from your dreams. 

"Sleep well?" Charles' voice is raspy and deep in your ear as you squirm a little in his arms. 

You exhale deeply, but keep your eyes closed. "Uh-huh." 

Charles laughs softly and your head bobs on his chest. "So I was more comfortable than I expected." 

Slowly, you open your eyes. The fire bowl has burnt out, there are only ashes in it and the only things that light up the night are the moon and the stars in the sky above you and a small lamp that shines a soft cone of light on you from the living room. "How long have I been asleep?" You rub your eyes sleepily. 

"A few hours. But don't worry, as far as I know you weren't drooling," he jokes, but that doesn't stop you from jumping off the couch as if bitten by a tarantula. 

"I'm sorry," you apologize, running your fingers through your hair, "I didn't mean to use you as a personal pillow." 

"It's okay," he replies with a smile and scratches his beard. "I was going for it with the cuddling and the tickling, after all." He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm quite irresistible."

An image of him on top of you flickers in your mind's eye. How true. 

"I'm sorry though." You grab Charles's legs and lift them up so you can sit on the couch next to him. His calves rest on your lap. "Your back must be incredibly sore."

He waves his hand. "This couch is still better than the one in our old apartment. It really was a horror." He leans back a little, stretches his back over the armrest and you can both hear the crack of individual vertebrae in his back. When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he grins. "Oops."

"Come on." You push his legs off you and stand up. "Let's go home. There's a super comfy bed waiting for us. And there's enough room so we don't have to sleep on top of each other." You hold out your hand to him to pull him off the couch. 

He puts his hand in yours, but instead of you pulling him up, he pulls you back towards him so that you end up on his lap. "Then let's stay here. On this couch. It's not as comfortable as our bed, but at least I'll have you lying on top of me." His grin is so wide that it almost reaches his ears.

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. You try to suppress the fact that your hands start to sweat and a warm shiver runs down your spine. "You're impossible."

"I thought I was irresistible?" he asks, leaning forward. 

You hold your breath. "You said that, not me. And you're talking a lot of nonsense."

Charles lifts his hand and places it against your cheek, letting it wander until his fingers find your neck and his thumb lifts your chin. His mouth opens and his tongue glides over his full lips. "True. But when I say you're the most important person in my life, that's not nonsense." 

You place your hand on his. "Then what is it?"

"The truth." He smiles lovingly. "You are - the light in my darkness, the fire in my veins, the music in my heart. I never expected that you could grow so fond of someone in such a short time. And then you came along." He hesitantly removes his hand from your cheek and the warmth it had radiated disappears. "You're my best friend."

Never in your life have you wanted to scream as loudly as you do at this moment. And you want to scream at the man in front of you, tell him that you want to be more to him than his best friend, that you want to kiss him, that you want to be his. And that you can hardly stand it when he's not with you.

And you want to scream at yourself, smack yourself, because you're trying to convince yourself that a friendship is enough, even though your heart is telling you that it's the last thing you want from him. You want to grab yourself by the shoulders and shake you until you come to your senses. 

You are Charles' friend. His best friend. And even if actions speak louder than words, his words were unmistakable. 

You smile at him. "I wouldn't want to be anything else either."

While Charles pushes the sofa back into place, you clear away the rest. You fold up the blanket and put it on the back of the sofa in the living room and the empty Coke cans end up in the garbage can in the kitchen. There's no sign of Joris, but his bedroom door is closed and there's not a sound to be heard. The apartment is dead quiet until Charles joins you in the kitchen. 

"Last time we were here, we had a fight afterwards, remember?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

You turn to him and take a look at the kitchen island, where nothing is lying around except for a large wooden board. You chew the inside of your cheek. "I hate to remember that."

Your flatmate tilts his head. "The phone call or the argument?"

"The fight."

Charles pushes me away from the doorframe and stands opposite you at the kitchen island. "I'd like to apologize again. I went one step too far. And we haven't even known each other for twenty-four hours."

"Charles..."

"No, listen to me." He circles the counter until he stands in front of you and takes your hands in his. They're soft and warm. "I crossed a line that day and you were right to be angry with me. I just want to say again that I definitely don't want to do that again. The fighting I mean." He smiles. "I'd defend you to Raphael any time of day or night."

You purse your lips. "Then it's a good thing we can leave him behind. Just like Annika."

He lifts your hands and presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles. "And I couldn't have done it without you."

The drive home isn't far, thank God, and as Charles parks his brother's car in the underground garage, you're overcome with tiredness again. You would have preferred to stay in the car, recline your seat and close your eyes. But Charles's hand on your thigh pulls you back into the world of the living. 

"We're here, sleepyhead. Come on, there's a warm bed waiting for you upstairs that can hardly wait for you to snuggle up in."

"I can hardly wait either," you smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow your roommate to the elevator. The light inside is bright and far too harsh for your tired eyes, so you close them and lean your head against the elevator wall. "I'm so tired."

"But you slept." 

You open your eyes and look at your friend. "What's up with you? Aren't you tired too?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Do I look that exhausted?" He runs a hand through his hair. "I slept a bit too, don't worry. You lying on top of me wasn't just comfortable for you."

You try not to think too much about his comment as you get ready for bed and then lie down in your long-awaited bed. You plug your phone into the charging cable and see an Instagram notification pop up. 

You have to smile. 

liked by pierregasly and others tagged: yourusername francisca.cgomes: favorite cardigan, favorite person

"What's up?" asks Charles, who closes the door behind him. 

You try not to stare at his naked torso, which, thank heavens, you manage to do. "Here, Kika's following me on Instagram now." You hold your phone out to him briefly so he can see her post. "I'll just follow her back."

"Can I follow you now too?" he asks as he lies down in bed next to you, phone in hand. 

You look at him in confusion. "You're already following me."

Charles laughs as if you've told a joke. "That's right. But this is my private account. I'd like to follow you on my official account, if that's okay with you."

"It's okay with me," you reply, "but are you sure? After all, Kika has tagged me in her pictures. And if they go to my profile, they'll see that you're following me too, won't they?"

You don't really want to rub his caring in, but it was his idea to take Kika and Pierre furniture shopping. And to drive through Monaco in your old Renault. The fact that he wants to follow you - quite publicly and for everyone to see - on Instagram goes against everything he's done for your safety. 

"They will. But we're friends, after all, and I won't be able to keep you out of the spotlight forever."

"All right." A moment later, another notification pops up. You quickly accept his request and follow him back before looking at the last picture he posted. You grin at him. "Cool picture, who took that?"

Playfully clueless, he shrugs his shoulders before snuggling into the pillow. "My best friend." 

As you put your phone away, he switches off the bedside lamp and darkness and silence fill the room. You feel his warmth under the covers and you want to scoot the few inches over to him and press yourself against him until you're engulfed by his warmth. 

"Would it be weird if we cuddled?" His voice sounds hesitant, as if he was struggling to ask you that. When you don't answer, Charles quickly backpedals. "I'm sorry. I know we're just friends, but - I don't know - when you're there, I feel like I'm at home. And it calms me down when you're with me. I'm sorry, that all sounds totally selfish."

You reach under the blanket for his hand. He squeezes it twice. "Friends can cuddle too, I think. I mean, without ulterior motives."

"Good," he murmurs and his arm wraps around your middle to pull you closer. He drapes your leg over his hip and your hand rests on his chest. "Is that okay with you?" His fingertips dance on your bare skin under your sleep shirt. 

You press your face into his neck and breathe in deeply. As you exhale and your hot breath brushes over the soft skin of his neck, he pushes your leg down a little further, tangling your limbs together. "If that's what it is for you." 

"It is." Charles presses one last kiss to your forehead before resting his cheek against the top of your head again. "And now we need to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I don't think my mother can wait to get to know you better." 

"Do you think she'll like me?" you ask softly into the darkness. 

Charles' skin is warm and soft against yours as he presses you against him and your shirt slides up a little. "I think that anyone who gets to know you better will fall head over heels in love with you. Whether they want to or not."

-

Charles Instagram post

liked by francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and others charles_leclerc: aux nouveaux départs posted three days ago

[daenysx]

hi lovely ! i have a request ! i'm a sucker for comforting others so could you do another fic like glossy eyes of a pretty boy but sfw and slightly different? i was thinking maybe james loses a quidditch match and maybe has a panic attack or is just really worked up so rem and siri have to come get us to go calm him down :((( he's my baby i love him so bad !!! and ofc if you don't want to you don't have to !!! ty my lovely ! <3

i hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting, angel <33333

james potter x fem!reader, sfw (they are just kissing through the end but nothing else)

you're trying to focus on what you're writing when sirius appears. his hair is messed up from running, you look at him through curious eyes. "what's wrong?" you ask.

"hey, gorgeous." he says first. he takes a seat next to you and tries to catch his breath. "sorry- i'll tell you in a second."

"do you want some water?" you ask, giggling. he shakes his head. "i'm fine, i'm fine."

"something happened?"

"what's that?" he asks you before answering your question. his finger points the books in front of you.

"i'm trying to finish the potions essay." you say. "it's not going really well."

"um- do you mind taking a break?" sirius asks, his breathing turns into normal each second. "prongs might need your company."

"what happened to him?" you worry. "is he okay?"

sirius tries to fix his hair with useless fingers. "yeah, but- he's a bit upset. the meeting we had for the next match didn't go well, the new ones in team kinda messed with his head, i guess."

"where is he?" you ask him as you start collecting your things. sirius takes your book bag to his shoulder as he leads the way to their room.

you knew james was nervous for the next match, it's against slytherin and most of the time a fight or an argument is inevitable. what's weird is that the argument happening inside the gryffindor team. james hates when something goes wrong in the game because of personal conflicts, he doesn't like mixing things together.

the walk is not long, sirius walks with you until the common room. you can spot remus sitting on the couch as you step in. his arms are crossed, his long legs placed on the small table in front.

"hi, remus." you say when he sees you.

"hi." he says with a remuslike smile. "thanks for coming so fast."

"is he okay?" you ask him. sirius puts your bag on the couch before settling down next to remus.

"he's okay, besides going insane over the match." remus answers. "i've never seen prongs panicking too much, i mean it's just a game right?"

"it's never just a game, beloved moony." sirius shakes his head. "the team is literally being sabotaged by itself, it's worse than losing against slytherin."

"i'm gonna check up on him." you tell them, accepting their brief nods as answer.

you knock on the door before entering. james doesn't reply. when you open the door and take a gentle step inside, he lifts his head. he doesn't say anything until you walk towards him.

"hi, jamie." you say, softly. "can i come in?"

it's normally a stupid question, you already came in. you just don't want to bother james if he wants to be alone. he nods. he's sitting on his messed up bed, his glasses thrown aside just like his tie. his shirt lost a few top buttons, and you can see the red in his pretty eyes when you're this close.

you stand in front of james, almost between his parted legs. he extends a shaky hand to pull you closer. the room reflects his mood, you think, you've never seen it so messy.

james looks at you briefly before putting his head on your belly. his weak arms are wrapped around your hips to keep you, your hands quickly go to his head to let him know it's okay. he can cry if he wants to, or scream, even though he seems like he's lacking the energy for it. he stays there until he breathes right. you rub the tense muscles of his shoulder with your one hand as your other hand strokes his hair.

"thank you for coming." he says with a rough voice. "i know you had work to do."

you cup his cheek to lift his head. your thumb rubs the angry tears on his face until it's dry. "my work isn't more important than you."

"thanks."

you give him a smile. it doesn't reach your eyes but james will understand. "do you wanna talk about it? the boys said a few things about the match but i don't really know what happened."

james shakes his head. "i can tell you later." he says. "i really don't wanna hear anything about the bloody match."

you give him a quick nod. he reaches for your hand.

"can you-" he sniffs. "can we lay down for a minute?"

"of course, baby." you say. "for as long as you want."

you help james put his head on your chest as you find a nice position to cuddle him. your arms around him feel safe, you can't see his face properly but you know he tries to calm down by taking in your familiar scent.

he's so precious, your boy. you like how passionate he is for the things he loves, he pushes himself hard until he is where he wants to be. you know it's stressful, being a solid part of a team and trying to make new people get along. james is the sunshine, he's easygoing and charming, but when he gets upset, it's hard to turn back to his normal self. he needs some time.

you play with his hair until he goes lax in your arms. his pent up energy slowly disappears. he drags his hand to your waist to rub the skin he can reach through your shirt.

you can almost count his eyelashes with this angle. he's gorgeous, even when he's mad. you think this is the real magic. he truly is a magical being, and it has nothing to do with the things he can do with his wand. you like how he's deep in his emotions, all of them, he lives bravely, never backs down from feeling anything. he'll be okay, he can stay here as long as he wants.

the kisses you press on his hair are soothing, you need to lift your head to reach him but it's fine. there are no words, just you and just him.

james sits on bed with slow motions when it becomes bearable. you watch him. "i'm okay." he says. "i'm sorry for worrying you."

"we were worried about you, but it's okay if you feel better." you say to him. he gets as comfortable as he can to settle down on top of your body to give you a good kiss, the kind of kiss that messes with his breathing and quickens his heartbeat. you cup his cheeks, thumbs drawing half moons on his skin. he's so soft now, no hurt feelings left. he closes his eyes to you, his lips conveying every thought he doesn't need to talk about anymore.

"everything will work out with the team." you say when he breaks the kiss. "you only need to be patient, my love. you'll do so well. you'll win the match."

james nods before putting his head on the crook of your neck. "remus is saying the same thing." he tells you. "i know we can beat them and- i only want everyone in team to feel that way."

"i think they already do." you believe what you say. "it must be stressful for everyone."

"yes. probably." james accepts. "we need more time."

"that's right." you agree. "can i bring you something to eat? i think we missed dinner."

"oh." he lifts his head. he was so deep in his sulking, he didn't realize how much time you spent next to him. "i'm sorry, angel. i totally forgot. i'll go get us something to eat."

"i'm not really hungry." you smile. "but food always makes you feel better, so..."

you're teasing and suddenly everything feels normal. james kisses your cheek and leaves his bed. "you always make me feel better." he says, such a romantic, he's down bad. "i'm so lucky to have you."

you blush under his gaze. your fingers try to fix the buttons of his shirt. "come on, potter, i decided i'm starving now. you also need to see sirius and remus, they were worried."

james holds your hand. "let's go then."

[starrieangel]

🎮Mouthwashing Crew plays a Horror Game With you👻

Inspired by @ilikedrinkingsoda ‘s suggestion of roblox horror game imagines ~ I just went with a generic horror game since I've never played roblox!

Features: Curly x Reader, Anya x Reader, Daisuke x Reader, Jimmy x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Normal!Jimmy

Curly

I feel like he wouldn't be very scared or jumpy ??!! You call him a psycho bc you're screaming at every jumpscare and he is just laughing at you ??! What the hell??

You ask him if he likes horror games or something and he says “Not at all, I even hate scary movies.. but I don't find them scary, just gross” Like he’s grossed out by gore more than he finds it scary

So when you play this horror game which just involves hiding from a monster, he's not scared at all, he's just laughing at you. >:(

Until... all of a sudden there's a cutscene, where the monster does something reeeeally creepy, say takes on a new, scarier form

Afterwards he goes quiet, but he keeps playing

Suddenly after playing for a little longer you just hear him really quietly gasp out of shock- he finally got killed by the monster

“Haha okay, L-let's play another game now..”

Curly hates horror games..

Anya

SHE DOES NOT WANT TO PLAY THIS GAME..!!

Already covering her eyes on the start menu

Like you almost can't even get her to play the game

Ironically she is a fan of horror, but show her a jumpscare and she'll die

She likes psychological horror or creepy horror, a big Stephen King fan (The Shining reference) but this game is just too stressful ..!!

“Y/N, I really want to play something else now-” *YELP*

You guys have to play dress to impress for two hours until she isn't scared anymore 😭 (or a different cutesy game)

Ends up going to bed reading HP Lovecraft or some other horrifying shit and then just rolls over and falls asleep like she read a bedtime story... LIKE WHAT

Daisuke

Definitely screams everytime he is killed

but he is addicted to this game

He is constantly cracking jokes that get interrupted by him getting killed or screaming out of terror LOL

Would definitely follow you around the map even tho you're begging him to stop bc HE KEEPS GETTING YOU KILLED

“Y/N HELP” “STOP YOU'RE BRINGING IT TOWARDS ME-” *cue screaming in unison*

He is definitely the most fun to play with though, like he's so funny naturally

I don't think Daisuke would like horror at all, he just enjoys having fun and playing games even if they're a little scary (because its fun!)

Well, it's fun until he cant sleep that night..

“Y/N, can I sleep in your bed tonight? You know, to protect you from monsters..!” You say yes and he dashes into bed like he's running from the monster still XD

Jimmy

So goddamn cocky

He loves scary movies, like Scream, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, so what is there to be scared of?

Sees creepy monster at the end of the hallway

“Yea no fuck this turn this shit off”

LMAO

You end up watching The Thing and Alien and having a horror movie marathon after that

You're terrified the rest of the night D: Like why did he make u watch all that scary stuff before bed..?!

You crawl into bed and instantly cling to him

“Don't worry, babe. I'll hold you so no monsters get you.” Then wraps his arms around you ♡

Wait a minute.. that fucker planned this all..! (He wasn't even scared of the game, he just wanted to watch his favorite movies with you >:[ )

This was really fun to write! Plz rb if you liked or leave a reply of what you thought! Thanks for reading! 🩷🎮

[ihavethedreamies]

Good Enough | Jisung [NSFW]

Park Jisung - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~6.1k [more than half is smut btw]

Pairing: Jisung x AFAB!Older!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Friends/Roommates-to-Lovers, Absolute Filth

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Summary: Jisung is tired of his noona treating him like her little sweet baby.

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Noona, Sweetheart), Swearing, Very Dirty Talk, Kissing, Lots of Tongue, One Spank, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Rimming (Just a tad), Size Difference, Size Kink, Soft-Dom! Jisung (oof), Sub! Reader, Breeding/Creampie Kink, Overstimulation, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! Reader is on the pill)

Author's Note: I had a mental breakdown while writing this lol. This might not acutally be the filthiest thing I have written, but it feels like it because of who it's for…for some reason. It's hard for me to believe that Jisung got so fucking hot, because I remember him sitting on Taeyong's lap, but he's a MAN now. i'll sit on his lap

P.S. FUCK

Revised (1/31/25) - I forgot to change the name to (Y/N), so I fixed it!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

“He’s my precious.”

“Your roommate…is your precious?” Jisung hears voices creeping in from the living room. Groggily, he glances at the clock on his nightstand, head peeking out of his blanket cocoon. He’s still jet lagged after getting back from Korea, so it’s about 3 pm.

“Yes. And he’s not just my roommate-“

“He’s your precious?”

“Yes. But! I was going to say he’s my best friend… and my precious baby boy.

“Seriously? Isn’t he only like two or three years younger?”

“My precious baby Jisung.” He huffs at your coo, dropping his head back on his pillow in annoyance. For some reason his summer trip back home to see his parents triggered something in him. He missed you horribly and you were pretty much the only thing he talked about. Once he was informed by his mother that he’s likely fallen in love with you, he’s…upset. More with himself at first for not realizing it, but then looking at how you two interact, he got cranky. He is not your precious baby Jisung, he’s a man dammit, has been for nearly four years. Do you see him that way though? Not even remotely. He’s a step above a puppy, at least you accept he’s human. But you constantly go on about how cute he is, and sweet, and ‘a bean’; whatever that means. You’d even called him your son on a few occasions, and ever though they’re mostly in jest and unserious, now they really piss him off. Jisung doesn’t want you to see him as your son (maybe give you one) but what really is bugging him barely makes sense. He’s only heard you say it once, but it sticks in his mind…

“You realize half of the people on campus want to fuck him, right?”

He’s in his final year of college, and the only reason you’re still in college is because you stuck around to work for the IT department. Your friend’s question is not news to him, but he’s much too shy to go for any of the advances he’s received. He’s also much too in love with you, but he hadn’t known that till literally last month, but it makes sense.

“Not allowed.”

“Why?”

“Precious baby.”

“He’s not a baby, (Y/N). Not even close.” You don’t reply for a bit, and he can vividly picture your distasteful expression.

“He might not actually be one, but he’s my baby. My baby Jisung.”

“(Y/N).”

Your friend’s annoyed tone is not nearly strong enough to match the level he’s feeling. Definitely not able to continue his nap, he sits up aggressively from his bed, kicking at his blankets before wrangling his comforter and throwing it to the floor. Resting his elbow on his knee, he then rests his forehead on his hand, trying to breathe out his ire so he can leave his room without being visibly grumpy.

“My sister wants to ask him out.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“No one is good enough.”

“No one?”

“Nope, not even me.”

That’s it. You said it. That simple thought is what really sets him over the edge. You’re the only one good enough, no one else can even be close to you in his eyes. Finally, the anger boils over and he climbs off his bed, putting a sweatshirt on so quickly that he has to wrestle it in his haste. You keep the apartment so freaking cold… You must hear him wrench his door open because your conversation immediately stops. He storms down the hall, even his socked feet are heavy on the laminate wood floor, so much so that when he comes to the mouth of the hallway, you’re looking at him with a shocked expression. You’re sitting at the coffee table with your friend Yuna, various papers spread on the surface while your friend studies for her graduate classes. Your green snake Squishmallow sits on your lap, and he wants to grab it and throw it across the room, suddenly jealous with how close it’s pressed to your chest.

“Ji?” It’s clear you don’t think he heard your conversation, but Yuna immediately realizes, starting to gather her homework.

“I’m gonna go.” She nearly shoves the papers into her folder and throws everything else in her bag.

“What? Why?” You turn back to her, and he then realizes what you’re wearing. Your slightly damp hair has moved out of the way, revealing the design on the back of your baggy t-shirt. It’s his.

“Wait, Yuna?!” You try to get up and go after her as she dashes from your apartment, shooting Jisung a look as she shuts the door. You have to shove the table to get up quicker, and even as you stand, you still clutch the plushie to you. Jisung exhales harshly, storming forward and grabbing your Squishmallow and yeeting her onto the floor.

“Woah?! What’d she do to you?” You motion to her with your hand, giving him a questioning look. You start to bend to pick her up, but his hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back up and toward him, making your balance falter. Your bewildered eyes scan over his face, but you still have no anger in them; not even annoyance. You can’t get mad at your baby boy.

“Ji?” His big hand easily holds your wrist, and you squeak when he drags you even closer to him, so much that you can feel his breath flutter your hair over your forehead. His brow is furrowed, lips pressed tight to each other, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” Your other hand comes up to brush some of your hair away from your face, only leaving it down so it can dry. Your fingers then move to his face, trying to brush his bangs out of his eyes. Having you so close and seeing how far you have to reach makes him realize just how small you are. He’s well over half a foot taller than you and he wonders how small you’d look under him… When your fingers brush his cheek, his other hand grabs yours, easily swallowing it in his grip. Jisung holds your hand, pulling closer, and lays your linked hands over his heart. With his other, he yanks you the last little bit closer, so you’re pressed to him, wide eyes rapidly scanning his face. Your head’s tilted back, almost painfully so, still not recognizing what’s happening. The hand around your wrist moves so his thumb can rub your skin till it presses against your palm. Your gaze goes to your hand then, shocked at how small it is compared to his, and you seem to be registering how small you are compared to him in general. Had he really grown so much since you’d met him four years before? Your gaze goes back to his face, finally seeming to notice that his face has changed as well. Yes, he’s still cute, but he’s become devastatingly handsome, maturing into a…man. No, he isn’t a baby anymore, but you’re in denial. Even now, pressed against him, even able to feel his toned muscles through his sweatshirt, you keep trying to convince yourself he's still your baby Jisung.

“Jisung?” You exhale his name, so quiet that if he wasn’t so close, he wouldn’t have heard. Your eyes follow his when they flick down to watch your lips move when you whisper his name.

“What makes you think you’re not good enough for me?” His voice rumbles through you, its deepness shocking you for some reason. When did that happen? You’re so thrown off by the pitch of his voice, you barely register his question.

“Huh?”

“No one else is good enough for me…because they’re not you.” His hand drops your wrist so his arm can wrap around you, and he presses his cheek to the side of your head. He nuzzles your soft hair, the familiar scent of your shampoo soothing his anger some.

“What?” You stand still, stiff even, trying to process what’s happening.

“I don’t want to be your baby Jisung anymore, noona. I just want to be yours.” He’s a bit surprised with his sudden eloquence, but he just chocks it up to all his upset burning away any shyness he as in the moment. The anger’s faded, and he’s just upset, tired again, praying in his head that you’ll get the fucking hint. Your hand, the one he lets go, has rested on his chest for balance, then he feels your fingers clutch the fabric of his sweatshirt. With his fingers wrapped around your right hand still, he can feel that your pulse has quickened, and you’re minutely shaking.

“Y-you…?” You swallow hard, tongue running over your lips, mouth feeling dry.

“I thought I just had a crush on you. I don’t. I love you.” His softened voice floats right into your ear with how his head rests on yours. The back of your nose and throat burn as you swallow hard, tears sparking in the corners of your eyes. When you hiccup, snigging, he flinches, pulling back from you. It’s only just enough that he can see your face, his arm still around you, hand still in his over his heart.

“Noona.” He sighs softly, dipping and kissing the corner of your eye where a tear has slipped down your cheek. Nope, that makes it worse. You burst into tears, chest heaving, and he pulls you back into him. You’re…dramatic sometimes, cry easily…too easily, even. Jisung loves to tease you for crying at a commercial where a little girl brings a quilt out to her sheep in the barn close to Christmas. You also tend to cry around puppies.

“I-I…I-!” Your breath is heaving too much for you to really talk. His nose nuzzles your hair, and he kisses the crown of your head. You sniff, taking a few deep breaths.

“I love you too…” You whisper, if you were to speak any loud, your sobs would take back over. He doesn’t know, but while he was gone you had been in a much similar situation. You went to visit your parents as well, but it’s just an hour or so drive, not practically across the world. You missed him so much, and wouldn’t shut up about him, but your mother knows you well enough to read between the lines. Because it startled you, having romantic feelings for Jisung, you became even more dramatic with the ‘baby Jisung’ talk. He is your best friend, and so of course you love him, but you can’t admit you’re in love with him. You’re so worried about ruining your friendship that you just ignore your logical thoughts and pretend you haven’t fallen for him. Nearly fighting him when he pulls back from the hug again, you stay pressed to him, not wanting him to see your face. Not only is it red from your blush, but it’s also blotchy from your crying and your nose is close to running.

“Noona.” He huffs a laugh, trying to get you off of him. You grip his sweatshirt tighter.

“(Y/N).” Jisung is fully laughing at that point, partially from your actions and partially from how ecstatic he is that you love him back.

“No.”

“Noona.”

“No.” Finally, with a bit more force, he pulls back so you can see each other’s faces. The warmest smile you’ve ever seen is on his face and you freeze when he leans in closer. His forehead bumps your and his nose crinkles, cringing a bit at his own actions, but it makes you giggle; which makes it all worth it.

“Since when?” you ask. He laughs bashfully, lips pursing.

“I didn’t realize how bad it is till a few weeks ago when I was still in Korea. But…I knew before that. Something made me realize…”

“What?” You’re shocked when his giddy but shy face falls into one of panic.

“W-what?” His face blooms red, all the way to the tips of his ears and he tries to bow his head to avoid your gaze, but you can just look up into his eyes.

“Uh, well…” He clears his throat, trying to pull back further but he doesn’t let your hand go.

“Jisung?” You press with a fake stern tone.

“I…had a dream.” He fakes a cough to try and hide his voice crack.

“Yeah?” You’re clearly not understanding that he’s so reluctant to say what it was, because it was filthy. It even had made Jaemin blush. The extreme embarrassment in his eyes when they finally meet yours clues you in better. You step closer, a coy look spreading over your own face, and he takes a step back. His hand is still holding yours though, so he isn’t that desperate to get away. He clenches his other hand into a fist, bringing it up and pressing his mouth to his forearm to hide his face.

“Was it something bad?”

“No! Uh…” With each step you try to get closer, he backs up, till his back hits the wall.

“Was it naughty?” You tease, and he sneers at the cringey word. Your eyes, still a bit puffy from crying, are creased with amusement.

“Uh, I mean…”

“Did we do something dirty?” Your head tilts up to look at his face as he tries to hide, fingers clenching yours jerkily, the digits desperate to wiggle.

“M-maybe.”

“What?” You smirk, trying not to giggle. You’re always more open about sex stuff, not quite like Jaemin or even Donghyuck, but still more than him.

“No.” He’s throwing your method of deflection back at you.

“You know,” you get up on your tip toes so you can whisper into his ear, “if you tell me, we can do it~?” Your suggestion makes his whole body freeze, blood turning to ice. He nearly gasps when his blood then rapidly heats, the sound of his pulse whooshing in his ears.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, needing to make sure because even just the slightest detail would reveal too much if you aren’t. You nod with a hum, then gasp when he switches your places, hand cupping the back of your head, so it doesn’t thud into the wall as he pins you to it, his other forearm holding him up over you’re your head. You can only blink in response, looking at the conflicted expression on his face.

"I don’t want to hurt you.” What the hell had he dreamt? You’re dying to know…

“You won’t.” Jisung’s eyes meet yours, brow furrowed in worry.

“I could.”

“You could, but you won’t. Plus…” Your hands come up to mess with the strings of his hoodie.

"Sometimes a little pain can feel good." Jisung searches your face and sees the determination in your eyes. The hand on the back of your head buries harshly into your hair, tugging at your scalp as you gasp when his mouth seals against yours. Your teeth clack against his with the force of the kiss and you whine, trying to match his fervor. You can’t. His leg nestles between yours, pressing close and against your core, and you have to rise up onto your tip toes. The fingers in your hair twist the strands around them and he tugs harder, tipping your head back more, compensating for him looming over you. His knee hits the wall, his leg literally hitching you up an inch and you moan at the pressure. Jisung sneaks his tongue into your mouth then and your breath is rough out of your nose, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth. Panting hard, he pulls back, eyes searching yours. His arm against the wall moves down to your side, still holding him up but also pressing into your waist. The hand in your hair leaves, the tips of his fingers soothing the slight sting he left on your scalp, then cups your jaw. Your face looks so small cupped in his palm and something carnal -feral- rises in him.

“You’re so little, noona.” Jisung’s tone is nothing like you’d even heard from him. His hooded gaze focuses on your mouth when his thumb easily reaches to press against your lips, his fingers still stroking the back of your head. You watch his brow quick up when you take his thumb between your lips, sucking on it. You expect a blush to erupt, for his voice to sputter, or for him to pull back. No. He smirks.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?” Your head has to tilt up once again when he presses even closer, chest to chest, leg still wedged between yours. You wonder if you’d soaked through your panties and thin shorts, and if he could feel it. Then again, he’s in sweatpants, but you can feel the fabric clinging to your folds and he’s only kissed you. Yes, his thigh is pressing against your covered cunt, be he isn’t moving you on it.

“Tell me?” you whisper when he removes his thumb, eyes focusing on the shine of drool left on it. If you didn’t know him better, you would take his intense expression for anger, but even with knowing him so well, you can’t read his face. Jisung slips his hand off your jaw, fingers pressing to the back of your neck, thumb resting under your chin. His face comes close once more, so close his lips brush slightly over yours as he speaks.

“I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk for the next three days. I want to fuck you so stupid you can’t even speak, just whine, and beg for more. I want to make you cum so much that your cute little pussy stings. I want you to swallow my cock and I want to cum down your throat.” You’re going to pass out, you’re sure of it. With how quickly the blood rushes to your core, your head swims. Where’s your sweet little Jisung gone? How long has he been thinking like that? He can’t even meet anyone’s eyes if sex stuff gets brought up around friends. But his words are thick with lust, and they swim into your ears and fog your brain like a drug. Your thighs twitch, body shuddering when a devilish grin spreads over his gorgeous face. He isn’t cute right now; he’s destructively sexy, and it takes your breath away. You don’t think you can ever see him as your sweet little friend again…

“What do you want, noona?” The pet-name even comes out different, he says it with near reverence, the single word a one-eighty from the four words preceding it.

“I want… I need you to do anything you want to me.” His grin falls, he groans, and his tongue is back in your mouth. He can taste the candy you’d been eating while you spoke those fateful words, eagerly circling your tongue with his. You keen a whining moan when the hand at your neck tightens slightly, his thumb pressing into your windpipe. Your breath hitches, somehow where he grips it gives the same heady feeling without actually restricting your breathing. What steals your air is the pleasure you’re feeling just from his kiss. Your hips jump, desperate for some friction, grinding your covered pussy against his thigh. Helpfully he presses into you more, lifting you against the wall more, the weight of gravity pulling you onto him harder. The arm at your side that’s been holding him up moves -he's just using his knee now for balance- and his fingers tease along the waistband of your shorts. You whimper when his hand continues, sneaking its way into the back of your shorts and panties, the hot pads of his fingers meeting your slick folds. You shiver and take heaving breaths when he removes himself from the kiss. His other hand’s still at your throat, but he releases the light pressure, making your heavy breaths easier to control.

“You’re soaked, noona. For me?”

“Fuck, yes, Jisung.” Expecting a kiss when he moves closer once more, he grips your jaw, tilting your head back, thumb hooking your bottom lip. You let him move your jaw, holding your mouth open, waiting for his next move. His grin breaks when he lets a glob of spit fall from his lip and into your awaiting mouth. Without needing a prompt, when his thumb leaves your mouth, you swallow.

“Good girl, noona.” Slowly, he pulls away from you and the wall, stepping back only enough that he can take his hoodie off. He goes ahead and lets his shirt underneath go along with it and your heart leaps.

“Fucking hell.” You gasp, reaching forward to eagerly run your fingers over him. While he isn’t necessarily to the level of Jeno or even Jaemin, for having a dancer’s body he still has muscle. When had that gotten there? He barely wears anything tight, let alone without sleeves, so you had no idea. He feels a wave of bashfulness rising, so he takes control once again, pulling your small hands from his skin.

“Off.” He prompts and you grab the hem of his shirt you’re wearing, and he finishes the job, tossing it down the hall. Clicking his tongue at your bra, you start to reach around your back to undo it, but he beats you to it. With an easy flick, it snaps open, and you let it drop, wide eyes staring at him. Where the fucking hell had he learned to do that?

“Jaemin.” He must’ve read your mind and that makes plenty of sense. Not able to even process your next move, he scoops you up easily, pressing you back into the wall. You squeak, wrapping your mostly bare legs around his waist, fingers digging into his shoulders. He’s more or less eye-level with you now. He drops you a bit, preferring you under him more, and his nose nuzzles under your ear. He feels the goose bumps rising on your skin against his, his top just as bare as yours. His hands once again bury under the waist band of your shorts, fingers so long that the tips slip out of the leg holes of your panties, cupping your ass perfectly.

“God, Jisung~!” Your body twitches when his light nuzzles immediately turn into open mouth kisses, then he sucks hard, working the skin with his lips and teeth. Popping off of your neck, his tongue runs over the flesh, blood rising and pooling at the surface. The fingers on his shoulder tighten, the blunt edges of your nails digging into his skin, and his own hips jump then. You’ve been trying to ignore the tent in his pants, but he grinds his hardened cock against your cunt, only a few layers of fabric between. Jisung seems to be big in every way…

“You still on the pill?”

“Yes, why?” You shudder once more as he licks at the third hickey he’s left, this one on your collarbone.

“I need to fuck you raw.” He groans as your cunt throbs, easily feeling it against his cock even with the clothing barrier.

“Want to pump you so full, my cums dripping out of you for hours.” Your eyes roll back as you whine, throwing your head back. You squeak when he jostles you up higher, those beautiful and surprisingly sinful lips sucking in a nipple. Sighing at the feeling, he isn’t pleased with the gentle noise, and so he nibbles your peak instead. You yipe like a dog -ironic since he’s planning on fucking you like one- a little dazed by how high up the wall he has you. Despite the altitude, he seems to be easily holding you up, though he’s able to use the wall for help. When his mouth moves to your other breast, he smirks at the red and swollen nipple he leaves. Your body feels like it’s on fire and you both still have your pants on.

“Can I fuck you raw, noona? Feel your pussy cling to my cock?” His mouth is at your ear again, having dropped you back down to an easier level. His dick hasn’t even entered you and you feel too stupid to talk.

“Please~” You mewl, and your submissive tone makes him groan. Jisung’s hands leave your shorts, shoving them down off of you as he partially lets you go. Your feet dangle slightly as you toe off the last of your clothes, then you yelp as he slings you over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

“J-Jisung-?!” You yelp as his hand smacks your ass, most likely leaving a big red print on your skin. The sting of the spank sends tendrils of fire right to your cunt as he storms down the hall toward your room, your bed is bigger than his. You flinch at the slam of your door as he closes it, huffing as he practically drops you.

“Knees.” He prompts -orders- and your body easily obeys. Going down the rest of the way to the floor, you sit with your knees in an ‘M’, gazing up at him with big glossy eyes. You’re trying hard not to gape at the bulge in his sweatpants, or to run your gaze hungrily over his bare torso.

“Go ahead, noona.” He nearly laughs at your eagerness, quickly reaching for the waistband of his pants and pull them off, his hard cock bobbing in the air before you. Your wide, enraptured state on his dick gives him a rush of nerves and pride all at once. While you come to terms with your fate, he shoves his sweatpants to the side, and you shuffle forward. Whimpering, your hand wraps around the base of his cock, big and pretty like him. Swallowing, your eyes meet his.

“C-Can I get something?” Your request throws him off, but he nods, and you scramble up and to your nightstand. Trotting back over, you stand demurely before him, holding the item out with both palms up. He takes the little bottle from you, looking at it.

“Throat numbing spray?” His brow crooks and he looks at you, biting your lip with a giddy glaze over your eyes. It still has plastic wrap on the nozzle. Nodding once, you sink back to your knees, and he groans low when you open your mouth wide, tongue out.

“Why do you have this, noona?” His tone is slightly patronizing as he tears the plastic off, then spritzes the watermelon flavored spray into your mouth. Swallowing a few times, the dull sensation you could even register before fades, leaving a very minute feeling in your throat.

“Guess.” You giggle, hand wrapping back around his cock. Jisung buries his hand in your hair again, tugging hard to make you look back up at him.

“You’ve used it before?”

“I’m not a virgin, Ji.” Your normal, casual tone doesn’t sit right with him in the moment, and he twists your hair again, the stinging twinge makes you moan softly.

“One for me now?”

“Yes~” You nod to further emphasize your point, and his grip loosens. With a much softer hold on your head, he presses you closer, letting you take over. Swallowing a buildup of saliva, your tongue swirls around the head of his dick, eagerly lapping at the salty taste of his precum. He’s barely half-way in your mouth when the head hits your numbed throat, your jaw protesting some already. His eyes shut as he groans, only fluttering open to watch you take his cock even deeper down your throat. The spray helps you not to gag, and you swallow over and over, holding your breath, your nose pressing to his groin. Your hand falls, landing next to your other one as you press your hands to the floor. Pulling back enough that you can breathe, you twist your head like a curious dog, eyes searing into his.

“Ready?” You moan and his hands are back in your hair, hips jumping, burying his cock back inside your throat. Despite the numbing, tears spring to your eyes, a slight gag leaving you. Holding still like a good girl, Jisung pumps his fat cock into your mouth and down your throat, breathing harshly through your nose when you can.

“Fuck, you feel so good, noona~” He sighs, head thrown back, making sure not to use full force as he rolls his hips. Even with him holding back, you can feel the strength of his movements and you feel a puddle of wet forming on the laminate floor under you, cunt clenching around nothing.

“You better swallow it all, (Y/N).” He tries not to whimper, but he can’t help it, letting you inhale deeply before burying his cock all the way down your gullet, pumping thick strands of hot cum down your throat. Your core spasms, eyes fluttering as you eagerly swallow over and over, the heat of his release warming through you. When you woke up this morning, you never dreamed you’d be eagerly swallowing Jisung’s cock as he cums buckets down your throat. As the last little wave dies, he quickly removes his still half-hard cock, brow furrowing with worry as you gasp for air. Tears are flowing down your cheeks, face red and messy, but you open up, tongue out, to show him you obediently swallowed every drop.

“You’re so fucking good, sweetheart.” You gasp softly, the pet-name going straight to your needy cunt. Jisung uses his index finger to gather the saliva and pre that dripped down your chin, letting you lick it off.

“Get on the bed, it’s my turn.” As soon as his fingers retracts, you stand quickly, albeit shakily and go to stand by the bed.

“W-which way?” His hands on your shoulders turn you to face the bed, back to him. With a shove, you fall onto the mattress, chest pressing to the surface, hips bumping the end of the bed. You then hear a light thumb, and his hands are back on your ass-

“Fuck!” You gasp as his thumbs spread your soaking folds, blowing a stream of air against your fluttering core.

“Did you cum when I did, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl~” You can hear his smirk, then you cry out as you bury your hands into the sheets, his tongue burrowing into your hot cunt. Jisung easily holds your hips still, his arm wrapping around the front of your legs, his free hand splayed over the small of your back. When his tongue leaves your pussy, it swirls over your clit, and he sucks it in once before running through the slit of your folds and wiggling back inside. He does this a few more times, eagerly drinking your slick.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" You shudder, not even able to warn him as you next orgasm hits, much stronger than the small one you had not even five minutes prior. He holds you down as your body shakes, gummy walls fluttering and throbbing around his tongue.

“You taste so good, noona.” You barely hear him lick his lips, pulse still whooshing in your ears.

“A-ah?!” You squeal when his hands part your ass cheeks, his tongue moving up from your soaking cunt and swirling over your pucker.

“J-Jisung!?” You gasp harder, not sure hot to feel about the sensation. Grateful you took a shower not even two hours ago, you still aren’t really expecting his tongue to go from your pussy to your ass.

“Don’t worry, noona, I just wanna taste today.” He laps over your pucker once more, then pulls back, huffing in amusement at your still twitching thighs. You’re already tired, he can tell, but he’s painfully hard again. Jisung’s thoughts run rampant as he tries to decide how he wants you as he fucks you first. Your pose will do just fine…

“Hm, so wet, sweetheart.” He stands so he can lean over you on the bed, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other hand leading his cock to run through your folds. You know it was big in your mouth, but feeling him at your entrance makes you shiver. As the head of his cock starts to breach your walls, the burning sting makes you sigh in delight, the heat of his skin scorching through you. Breathing hard, trying to relax, your cunt flutters still as he buries deeper, slowly. His deep, low groan fades into a chuckle as he watches your pussy suck in his cock. At the last inch, he snaps his hips, filling you fully, head pressing against your cervix.

“Ah, fuck~!” You white-knuckle the sheets, toes curling, forcing you to tip-toe, his pelvis presses against your hips. You breath raggedly, getting used to not just the burn his fat cock forces from your walls, but the stinging pleasure the same burn forces through you. You haven’t been fucked in way too long, and you’re already sure no one will ever feel as good as Jisung does right now. You’d needed him, not just any guy, but him. That’s why you haven’t tried looking for a date, your subconscious knowing you need your sweet friend to rail you stupid. Jisung breathes hard as well, trying to let you get at least a little used to the stretch, but your sticky, wet heat feels too good.

“I need to move, (Y/N).”

“Please~” You whine, squealing with delight as he pulls back no more than halfway, then slowly back in. It’s like he’s sucked the air out of you, then forced it back in, but his next thrust makes you see stars. As he leans over you, hips battering your ass with hard, shallow thrusts, his hands lie over yours, weaving his fingers through yours. The sweet move is overshadowed by his animal pace, your whimpers and squeaks just as feral. He’s still trying to hold back some, but when he can’t hold back a hard snap, he feels the same flutter as before and grinds his cock into you as you cum, spurts of slick coating his groin and balls as you squirt around him. Your shudders and pulses last nearly twice as long and when you finally lie still, he starts back up himself. Your cunt stings slightly, not ready for the friction once more, but the pain just fuels the pleasure. Without the bed underneath you, you’d have melted onto the floor, not strength left. Wanting to protests when he unweaves your fingers, he falls forward, his chest to your back. Not too tightly, he wraps his arm under you, across your collar bone, then down to your chest, pulling you up just enough that the arm around you restricts you, forcing your elbows to stay at your hips. Your nails dig into the fabric under your lower stomach, Jisung easily holding you up just a bit from the bed. His other arm also snakes around you, his hand splaying over your lower stomach. You’re sensitive there, more than most people, and just the pressure alone makes you mewl. Jisung presses harder, able to feel the bulge of his cock below your skin and as he settles into position, you realize why he’s holding you so tight: he’s holding you in place. His next thrust starts with only the head of his cock inside, then he barrels his dick back into you, fucking you with abandon. You gasp, not able to even squeak or moan, mouth open in a silent scream, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“Ji-Jisung~! Please, fuck-!” You breathe out, your next orgasm washing over you, leaving the friction painful. The pain crests hard and fast as he continues to pound into you, fading back into pleasure. So much of your release and wet spill from your fluttering cunt that it drips onto the floor, down both of your thighs.

“I’m going to cum, noona. Full you up, yeah?” He whimpers deeply, almost groaning, hips faltering slightly.

“Yes, yes~! Jisung~!” He drops both of you to the bed then, pressing you down into the mattress, gouging his cock as deep as he can, and pumping your protected womb and cunt full of his hot cum. It spurts out in globs with your own cum, dripping a bigger puddle onto the floor, the hard pulse of his cock even stronger as he fills you. Your vision blurs, ears ringing as you cum once more, grateful that he stills, actually really hurting at that point. Reveling in his full weight on your back, he then registers he’s laying on you like that and pulls up just a bit.

“You okay?” He nuzzles the back of your ear.

“S-stings…” You get out hoarsely.

“Ah…” He winces with you as he pulls his still half-hard length from you, more globs of jizz and slick leaving your cunt.

“I don’t think I’ll walk for four days…” You mutter. It takes him a second to register what you mean before her bursts into laughter, pressing his sweaty forehead to your shaking shoulder.

“Good enough?” You ask and he hums.

“Fucking perfect.

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[viagracex]

okay here me out on this - you’re a youtuber and tiktoker who’s friends with the boys and always had a little crush on george, and he you, but you’re both cowards. it’s valentine’s day coming up and all the other boys have dates/are away and so are your girl friends so you say to george hey let’s do a friend v day like valentine’s day or smthn because he’s sad he doesn’t have a gf, he comes to your flat, you cook, watch rom coms, drink a lot of wine and you play games but you accidentally play a couples game 😉😉😉😉 and you end up doing the deed and in the end both agree to go on an ACTUAL valentines date the next day hehehehehe

A Valentine's Between Friends

george clarke x fem!reader

summary: a friendly valentine's evening leads to anything but…

warnings: sexual content, smut (MDNI)

3.4k words (may have got a bit carried away)

note: Anon, thank you so much for the request. It's my first time writing smut so I hope you like it, sorry if it's awkward and cringy. If it sucks let me know and would love to get more requests.

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

It was the sort of cold February evening that made you want to curl up with a blanket, a glass of wine, and pretend the world outside didn’t exist. The sort of evening that made you consider just not getting out of bed at all. Except for the fact that your phone was pinging with messages from the boys.

You groaned into your pillow, staring at the screen.

Chris had a date with someone he met on one of his spontaneous trips. Arthur was spending Valentine’s Day with a new girlfriend who he met through TikTok. Even your best friend was off on a family holiday. leaving you all alone.

You could already feel that aching hole in your chest. Valentine’s Day, of all days, was particularly terrible when you were single. The entire world seemed to be a constant reminder of the relationships you didn’t have. Of the fact that your phone was always empty, save for messages from your mates.

But then, there was George.

You had always had a soft spot for him. It started back when you all met, years ago, the banter, the cheeky comments, the laughs, the way he made you feel like you were always in on some secret joke. And now, well... now, it was just confusing. It had become a game of will-they-won’t-they. Neither of you ever crossed the line—too much fear of what might happen if you did. But god, how you both danced around it.

You hated the idea of spending Valentine’s Day alone, and so did he. So why not just make it a thing? A friend Valentine’s Day—no expectations, no awkwardness. You’d keep it chill.

You shot him a quick text.

“Wanna have an anti-Valentine's Day? I'll cook, we can drink wine, watch rom-coms and maybe play some games. Neither of us have plans, so why not? Let me know xx"

It didn’t take long before his reply came through.

"That sounds like exactly what I need. I’ll be over in an hour."

It was almost comically easy. But as the hour passed, you found yourself slightly nervous, unsure of what to expect. Was this just a chill night? Or was there something more lurking under the surface? You tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on getting everything ready.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, the sizzle of garlic in the pan mingling with the rich aroma of tomatoes—a simple, hearty meal to pair perfectly with the wine you’d bought. As you laid the table, each placement was a silent testament to the years of friendship that had intricately laced your lives together.

The sound of the doorbell jolted you from your thoughts. George stood there, hands buried deep in his pockets, his smile shy but genuine.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping into the warmth of your flat, the cold nipping at his heels. "This is a surprise. Smells like you've outdone yourself."

You chuckled, "Microwave meals are tragic on Valentine’s, even for friends."

He let out a laugh, sitting down at the table. "Fair enough. This looks pretty decent, actually. I’m impressed."

The evening unfolded with an ease that only true friendship could afford. Dinner was a merry affair, filled with laughter and nostalgic exchanges about past escapades with the boys. As the wine flowed, the barriers of mere friendship seemed to melt away, replaced by a tender connection that neither of you had dared to explore.

He grinned, taking off his jacket and hanging it up, glancing around your flat. "I’ve got to admit, this is a bit of a shocker. You’re actually being… domestic?"

"Well, thank you," you replied, smiling. "I even put some effort into it, just for you." You pulled the wine out of the fridge, uncorking it and pouring another glass for both of you.

The conversation flowed easily after that—easy banter, jokes about past video shoots, hilarious stories about the boys. But beneath the jokes, there was something soft lingering in the air. It was the unsaid, the little sparks you both danced around every time you spent time together.

As the evening wore on, the wine started to loosen your inhibitions. You moved to the couch, both of you nestled into the cushions, a blanket draped across your legs. The rom-com marathon began, and you both laughed at the ridiculous plot twists, snickered at the corny lines, but neither of you could ignore the growing tension between you.

"Should we play a game?" you asked, glancing at the coffee table where you had set out a box of games, most of them silly. "Something to pass the time? No pressure, I promise."

George gave you smile. "Yeah, I’m game. As long as it’s not too weird."

You grinned. "Oh, it’s not that weird. It’s just a couples game."

He raised an eyebrow. "Couples game? What, like Truth or Dare, but for couples?"

"Exactly," you replied with a laugh, though your heart was now beating in your throat. "But it’s mostly silly stuff. You know, harmless. Just a fun thing to do on Valentines."

You could see his hesitation, the subtle shift in his posture. "Alright. But I’m not kissing you, just so we’re clear."  He finished his sentence with a cheeky wink.

You snorted. "Who said anything about kissing?"

With a shake of his head, George grabbed the card deck, and you both started drawing cards one after another, each more ridiculous than the last. The questions were harmless, at first: "What's your partner's worst habit?" and "What's their favourite food?" The game seemed lighthearted enough. Until it wasn't.

George drew the next card, his fingers trembling slightly as he flipped it over. The room suddenly felt too warm, the air thick with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he read the card aloud: "Describe your most vivid fantasy involving the person sitting across from you."

Your eyes widened, and you felt a jolt of electricity course through your body. The playful atmosphere evaporated in an instant, replaced by a crackling intensity that made your skin tingle. George's gaze met yours, his pupils dilating ever so slightly.

"We don't have to-" you started to say, but George cut you off with a subtle shake of his head. His voice low and husky. "No, it's okay. I want to answer."

"It's always the same dream," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "We're alone on a deserted beach at sunset. The sky is painted in shades of orange and pink, and the waves are gently lapping at our feet."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

He continued, his voice growing more confident. "You're wearing that white sundress I love, the one that shows off your shoulders. Your hair is loose, blowing in the sea breeze. I reach out to brush a strand from your face, and suddenly we're so close I can feel your breath on my lips."

The room was dead silent now, and you’re hanging onto George's every word.

Your heart raced as George's words painted a vivid picture, one that mirrored your own secret fantasies. The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity.

"And then?" you whispered, barely trusting your voice.

George's eyes darkened. "Then I kiss you. Softly at first, but it quickly becomes more. My hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. You taste like salt and cherries."

You felt a flush creep up your neck, your skin tingling with each word.

"We fall back onto the sand," he continued, his voice low and intense. "The waves crash around us, but we don't care. All that matters is the feel of your skin against mine, the sound of your breath catching as I-"

George's voice trailed off, the unfinished sentence hanging in the air between you. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse with each rapid beat of your heart. You realized you were holding your breath, your body leaning towards George unconsciously.

"As you what?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your pulse in your ears.

George swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing. He looked almost pained, as if continuing would shatter some invisible barrier between fantasy and reality. But his eyes, dark and intense, never left yours.

"As I trace every curve of your body," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. "As I worship you with my hands, my lips, my entire being. In that moment, you're my entire world."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, your skin erupting in goose bumps.

The silence that followed was deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the heat radiating from your flushed skin. George's confession hung in the air between you, electric and charged with possibility.

"I..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly respond to such a raw, intimate revelation?

George's eyes searched yours, a mix of vulnerability and desire swirling in their depths. "Your turn," he said softly, pushing the deck of cards towards you with trembling fingers.

Your hand hovered over the stack, suddenly aware of how this next card could change everything. With a deep breath, you flipped it over.

"If you could do anything right now, without consequences, what would it be?"

The question seemed to mock you, daring you to voice the thoughts that had been building since George began speaking. You looked up, meeting his gaze once more. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

"I..." you started again, your voice barely above a whisper. "I would make your fantasy a reality."

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with implication. George's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly rose from your seat. Your heart pounded as you crossed the short distance between you, each step feeling like an eternity. George's gaze followed your movement, a mix of anticipation and disbelief etched across his features.

As you reached him, you gently took the card from his hands, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. Then, with a courage you didn't know you possessed, you lowered yourself onto his lap, your legs straddling his.

George's hands instinctively moved to your waist, steading you.

"We may not have a sunset, but..." Your voice trailed off as you brought your face closer to his, your lips mere inches apart. "We can make our own paradise right here."

George's breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your waist. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you hovered on the precipice of something monumental. Then, with a soft groan, George closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

It was everything you had imagined and more. His lips were soft yet insistent, moving against yours with a passion that made your head spin. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

George's hands roamed your back, tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. When you finally broke apart for air, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together.

"I've wanted this for so long," George murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His hands cupped your face gently, thumbs stroking your cheeks as if he couldn't quite believe you were real.

You leaned into his touch, your heart racing. "Me too," you whispered back, surprised by the intensity of your own feelings.

George's eyes searched yours, a mix of desire and vulnerability swirling in their depths. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in again, this time placing a soft, reverent kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Each touch of his lips sent sparks through your body.

When he finally reclaimed your lips, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You melted into him, your bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper, as if the question was as much for him as it was for you.

You leaned in slightly, your breath mingling with his. "I’m sure," you murmured, before closing the distance between you with a kiss.

It started soft—tentative. But as the seconds stretched, it deepened, becoming more urgent. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the warmth of his chest against yours, the rise and fall of his breath matching your own.

The world outside seemed to vanish. The only thing that mattered was the press of his lips against yours, the way his fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending sparks of electricity through your body. His touch was gentle at first, but as you shifted against him, something shifted in the air between you—a quiet hunger that neither of you could deny any longer.

"George," you whispered against his lips, a soft plea, and it was all it took. His hands moved to your face, cupping it as he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if he was losing himself to the moment.

You felt the intensity rise in him, in the way his hands wandered to the back of your neck, tugging gently, pulling you even closer. The taste of the wine mixed with the warmth of his mouth, and you could no longer tell where you ended and he began.

"Are you really sure?" he asked again, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes. I want this."

With that, the dam broke. His lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, leaving a fiery path behind. You shivered at the feeling, the electricity between you both undeniable. Each kiss, each touch, built the tension higher, and soon, it felt like the only thing you needed was him.

The wine seemed to fuel your courage as much as it fueled your desire, and soon you were both lost in the moment, not thinking about anything but the way your bodies responded to each other. His hands roamed freely, each touch sending your pulse racing, while you met him with equal eagerness, your fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him.

As things heated up, you both moved to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. George's eyes roamed over you appreciatively as you lay back on the bed. He joined you, his warm body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in another passionate kiss. His hands explored your curves, teasing and caressing. You arched into his touch, wanting more.

George trailed kisses down your neck and chest, taking his time to savor every inch of you. When his mouth found your breast, you gasped in pleasure. His tongue swirled around your nipple as his hand kneaded your other breast. The dual sensations sent waves of arousal through you.

You ran your fingers through his hair, urging him lower. He obliged, kissing down your stomach until he settled between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue against your sensitive flesh had you moaning. He explored you thoroughly

George's lips trailed lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your inner thighs. His warm breath against your sensitive skin made you shiver with anticipation. When his tongue finally made contact with your center, you gasped at the sensation. He started with slow, teasing licks before focusing his attention on your most sensitive spots.

As George's ministrations intensified, you felt waves of pleasure building inside you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on as your hips rocked against his mouth. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come hither motion that had you seeing stars. Thel stimulation quickly pushed you over the edge into a powerful climax that left you breathless.

Before you could fully recover, George was kissing his way back up your body. You pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. Your hands roamed over George's muscular back as he settled between your thighs. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, igniting a fresh wave of desire. George gazed into your eyes, seeking silent permission. You nodded, pulling him closer.

He entered you slowly, both of you gasping at the exquisite sensation of finally being joined. George stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then he began to move, setting a slow pace that had you arching beneath him.

Your bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity, finding a rhythm that built the pleasure higher and higher. George's lips found yours in a searing kiss as he quickened his thrusts. You wrapped your legs around his waist, changing the angle and causing you both to cry out.

The room filled with the sounds of your shared passion - soft moans, gasps of pleasure, skin sliding against skin. The walls seemed to disappear, as if they were the only two people in the world. George's hips moved faster, his thrusts deep and primal, as if he couldn't get enough of her. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping at her collarbone, urging her on.

You met his gaze, your breath ragged and your chest heaving. "George... I... I'm..."

He kissed you again, hard and desperate, silencing your words as he drove himself deeper inside you. "I've got you," he murmured against your lips. "Let go."

That was all the encouragement you needed. With a sharp cry, your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. The intensity of your climax sent shockwaves through your body, your inner muscles clenching around George rhythmically. He groaned at the sensation, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. With a few final deep thrusts, George let out a guttural moan as he found his peak, trembling above you.

You both lay there panting, bodies intertwined and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. George's weight on top of you felt comforting rather than stifling. Sliding out, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft with emotion. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead tenderly before capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

"That was..." he trailed off, seeming at a loss for words.

"Yeah," you agreed breathlessly. "It really was."

George rolled to the side, pulling you close against him. You nestled into the crook of his arm, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. A comfortable silence fell between you as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

George's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, sending pleasant tingles through your body. You tilted your head up to look at him, taking in his tousled hair and flushed cheeks. His eyes met yours, filled with warmth and contentment.

You both lay there for a moment, just breathing, both aware of the shift that had happened—of the line you had just crossed, and the new, thrilling tension that hung in the air. Neither of you spoke for a long time, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy.

"Well," he said, voice thick, "that… wasn’t how I expected the night to go."

You chuckled softly, catching your breath. "Yeah, me neither. But…"

"But?" he prompted, his eyes locking with yours, intense and filled with something new.

"But, maybe we should just go with it?"

He smiled at you, his lips curving mischievously. But when George finally broke the brief silence, it was with a soft chuckle.

"So… tomorrow," he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. "I guess we're going on that Valentine's date after all."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. "I guess we are," you replied with a smile, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were soft and full of a warmth that made your heart flutter. As his eyes met yours, you knew that everything had changed.

Outside, the night continued on, unaware of the transformation happening within the walls of your flat. But inside, on this unexpected Valentine's Day, you found yourself celebrating not just the day itself, but the beginning of something new and exciting. As you snuggled closer to him, your head finding its now familiar spot on his shoulder, you both agreed to take a leap into the unknown together. This was more than just a date on the calendar - it was a promise for the future.

Valentine's Day was no longer a dreaded reminder of what you lacked, but a joyous celebration of what could be.

[siriuslystyle1989]

Call It What You Want.

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a long mission away, the only thing Azriel wants is his mate.

Warnings: Fluff

masterlist

Door clicking open, Azriel found himself letting out a sigh of relief at the familiar scent of him and his mates shared home.

Meandering through their large apartment in the centre of Velaris, Azriel searched for where Y/n could possibly be.

The mission had been gruelling. Trying to stay hidden and get information on the continent is no easy task, but Azriel was the best person to do it. Everyone knew that.

Azriel's shadows balled around him as if they were as equally as tired as him.

"Az?" a familiar female voice fell to his ears "Is that you?"

Before he could reply, footsteps from the kitchen began to draw nearer. Until he was greeted with Y/n's face.

"Oh my love" She spoke softly with a pout on her face as his shadows suddenly awoke again, making their way towards her.

Azriel felt pathetically tired. Therefore when Y/n opened her arms towards the man he practically fell into them.

Stroking his hair, Y/n placed delicate kisses on his head as she guided him to their shared bedroom.

"I need to take a shower, I stink." Azriel groaned, not wanting to leave his mates embrace.

He might seem clingy, sure, but neither Azriel nor Y/n could care. They just enjoyed the feeling of being in each other's arms, especially after being apart for so long.

"Okay, you go shower and I'll make you some tea for when you come out." Y/n smiled at his dramatics as she made her way back to the kitchen.

After around 20 minutes, Azriel left the bathroom to find Y/n sat with a book open on their bed.

Looking up, Y/n smiled at him.

"Baby, let's get you to bed." the girl spoke, her voice just above a whisper.

She helped him snuggle into the blankets as he laid his head on her chest.

"I'm going to kill Rhys if he sends you on any more missions any time soon."

Azriel let out a small laugh, his shadows curling around Y/n in comfort.

"Let's not think about him right now please?" He grumbled as he buried his head further into the crook of her neck.

Y/n giggled slightly and ran a hand through his hair.

"I love you."

A/N: Thank you for all of the love recently!! my requests are open all the time for anyone who wants to send some in. This is my first acotar fic but I'm happy to write for any of the characters! Though my favourites are probably Lucien, Eris and Azriel lol.

[wandussyfantasy]

request (i hope its still open)

powerbottom!Wanda x Beefy G!P reader

(this is gonna be kinda long and dirty so be prepared)

Reader and Wanda are both college students who have been mutual pining each other, Wanda tells Nat that she likes reader and really wants to get down and dirty with them but doesn't know what to do Nat gives Wanda these chocolates (which is like those sex Viagra chocolate things) and tells Wanda to invite reader over for a movie night and share the chocolate, and that leads to hella sexual tension and they both can't hold it in anymore and fuck, Wanda rides readers abs and also handcuffs reader to the bed and she teases reader a lot and after a while reader just wants to touch Wanda so bad that they break the handcuffs which turns Wanda on even more and they fuck hard, lots of overstimulation and maybe some breeding (also maybe some fluff at the end as well as reader wants to live in this moment forever so reader uses Wanda's polaroid cam to take a pic of her naked and saves it in their wallet)

sorry this is long but if you do decide to write it just have fun with it and add your own stuff as well, love your fics <3

Study Date

Summary: Wanda and Reader have wanted each other for so long. Natasha, being the good friend that she is, helps the two speed things along and realize just how much they want each other.

Pairings: Wanda x NB!AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,767

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

smut, gn!reader shapeshifter, powerbottom!lwanda, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, fantasies, teasing, foreplay, and creampie.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

“Hey Wanda, I noticed you weren't in class today. I thought I'd lend you my notes,” you say as you hand the pretty girl from your expository writing class your notebook. She smiles as she accepts your offering. 

“Awe, you're so sweet! You didn't have to do that! Thank you, I'll type this up and get it back to you as soon as possible,” she says. You smile back and tell her to take her time. The conversation falls flat but you don't want to stop talking to her. You stand there awkwardly as you try to think of something to keep the conversation going. Wanda was doing the same, she didn't want you to leave. She wanted to keep talking to you. She always wants to talk to you. “Hey, I heard there is going to be a party this weekend. My brother is hosting it so I'm going to be there and so will other people. Because it's a party! And that's how… anyway are you going?” Wanda asks nervously as she fiddles with the notebook in her hands. Natasha tries her best to not be repulsed by Wanda’s bad attempt at asking you out. She had no idea that her friend was crushing so hard on someone, let alone you. 

“Nah, I have a lot of studying to do,” you reply without giving the invitation much thought. “Maybe another time? This semester has been kicking my ass and I might lose my scholarship if I don't get my grades up.” You admit as you shift on your feet awkwardly. 

Wanda frowns and looks hopeless. Natasha rolls her eyes and then cuts in. “Wanda is a fantastic tutor,” she says. “Maybe you should ask her to tutor you,” she spells it out for you when all you said was cool. 

“I mean. Um. Would you have time to? I would really appreciate it,” you say as you gesture at Wanda. 

“Uh,” she looks at her friend.

“She is available tonight,” Natasha offers up. “I have plans so she’ll be alone in the dorm.” Natasha scribbles down information on a piece of paper and hands it off to you. “Let’s go,” she grabs Wanda and pulls her away. 

“See you later!” You shout at them as they leave. 

Natasha shakes her head as they continue to walk away. “That was pathetic,” she says to her friend. “I know you’re new to flirting but,” she starts as she opens the door for their dorm building. “That was not flirting. That was just… sad.” 

Wanda shakes her head, “I know. I know. I’ve never liked anyone the way I like Y/n before. I want them in ways that I’ve never wanted anyone before.” She presses her palm to her forehead as she blushes.  

“Like, losinging your v-card type of want?” Natasha’s eyes widen as her voice lowers while they walk to the elevators. “You hardly wanted to lose it to your Vision! And you were with him for three years!” 

“I know!” Wanda says as they enter the elevator. “But gosh, there is something about Y/n that has me,” she stops as someone enters the elevator. She puts her hand on Natasha’s shoulder and sends her a mind message to continue the conversation privately. “I’ve had several wet dreams about Y/n since I saw them running around the track field shirtless.” 

Natasha looks at Wanda with wide eyes and thinks, “They had their titties out on the field?” 

Wanda shakes her head. “No, they have a shapshifting ability. It’s why they prefer they/them pronouns because they can shift their physical appearance to how they feel they that day. And that day it was a male chest and it was strong and sweaty and-”

“Ok! I don’t need to know anymore. But that is quite an ability, I’m sure a lot of gender nonconforming people would love to have an ability like that.” She said out loud as they stepped out of the elevator. Wanda agreed. 

“I think they can do more but I could hardly focus. I started to imagine the possibilities and I was just happy mind reading isn’t one of their abilities.” Wanda says as they enter the dorm. 

“I’m glad it’s not an ability of mine either,” Natasha says as she opens the mini fridge. She flips through the different types of chocolate bars that she owns and smiles when she finds the one she it looking for. “I’ve been saving this for a rainy day and honey, it’s getting pretty cloudy.” She hands the chocolate bar over to Wanda. 

“Oh, I’ve been craving chocolate all day!” Natasha stops her roommate from eating the candy.

“Woah, not so fast. Wait for your date tonight. Share it with Y/n,” she suggests. 

“Why?” Wanda makes a weird face as she tries to figure out what is special about the unlabeled candy. 

“Just trust me,” Natasha quickly puts on a special bracelet that prevents anyone with telepathic or empathic abilities from entering her mind and she smiles as she flashes it at Wanda. “The less you know, the better.” She starts to gather her belongings. “I will be out all night. I gave Y/n your phone number so you should be receiving a text or something soon.” She looks around the room to assure herself that she has everything she needs. “Good luck, Wanda. I hope it all goes well. Just please don’t use my bed.” 

Wanda rolled her eyes at the bracelet and smiled at her friends departing words. The hug each other, “Thank you.” Natasha leaves the room. Wanda flops onto her bed as she waits for you to text her. She thinks about the times she’s seen you half-naked and sweating. How she’s wished to have your body on top of hers. Wanda bites her bottom lip as she fights the urge to slip her fingers between her legs and imagine that they are yours. 

Her phone pings with a notification and she springs up to look at it. It’s you asking what time you should arrive. She licks her lips she tries to make a flirty response but she ends up cringing at everything she types. She settles on just telling you to meet her an hour from now and flops back onto her bed with a sigh. She needed to get it together because in anhour you would be in her room and you needed tutoring. And some how she needed to work in sharing the mysterious chocolate bar with you. 

Wanda changed into something a little more suggestive and flashed on a set of lingerie underneath, just in case she became brave enough to try something with you. She cleaned up the room a bit and lit a candle that was enchanted to keep sound in any room that it was lit in. She doesn’t know why but she has a feeling she’s going to get her way and she won’t be quiet about it when she does. 

“Smells nice in here,” You say as you enter Wanda’s room. She shuts the door behind you. 

“Thank you, it’s a new candle I made. I kind of got into the trend,” she says sheepishly as she stands behind you. There wasn’t room for a sofa in the dorm room so there isn’t one. There was only beds and desk chairs as seating options. “You can sit at my desk,” she points to the desk that is between the beds. 

“Thanks,” you say with a blush, “Um, if you’re selling your candles, I would love to buy some from you.” Wanda’s cheeks flush bright pink as well as she sits on her bed. 

“I think I have a couple that I can gift you,” she smiles as she gets comfortable. “Alright, so what subject are we starting with?” She asks as you are pulling assignments out of your bookbag and setting them on her desk. She looks at the chocolate bar that was left on her bed and tries to think of how she can offer it to you without it seeming weird. 

“Um chemistry has been brutal,” you say as you organize yourself. You try to keep your eyes on the work in front of you because her shirt was tighter than the one you saw her in a couple of hours ago. It was hard enough to be around her when she had loose fitting clothing on. Now that it was accentuating her chest, you thought you might pass out. 

“Chemistry happens to be my strongest subject!” Wanda says as she leans over to look at your papers. She quickly gets into helping learn the formulas that you struggled with as well as a lot of the vocabulary that you had mixed up. Deep into the study session, Wanda starts to mindlessly break off pieces of the chocolate bar and eat it. 

You accept the pieces that she offers and by the time you've moved onto math, the chocolate bar is gone. You start to feel even hornier than when first walked in but you try to focus on the subject.

“It's kind of hot in here,” Wanda says as she fans herself with her hand. She doesn't know why but her body is on fire. Her clothes feel horrible on her skin but she can't take it off. Not with you here. Oh but she wishes she could convince you to take your clothes off. 

“Yeah, it um it is,” you shift uncomfortably as your eyes land on her glistening chest. Wanda’s eyes are glued to your chest as well. The sweat on your body was causing the white fabric of your shirt to become see through. The shirt was clinging to your abs, exposing your six-pack. “Maybe I should um-” 

“Fuck me,” Wanda gasps out as she bites her lips. “I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from I-” You cut her off with your lips. Finally kissing her after spending the past few years pining for her. Wanda responds to the kiss just as eagerly. She pulls on your shirt to pull you closer to her until you land on top of her. Your body against hers on her bed. She couldn't think of anything but your lips and your body. She needs you. She needs you now. 

“Are you sure,” you try to slow down your kisses. “We can stop at any moment,” you say as you try to catch your breath. Her lips start sucking on your neck and you let out a soft loud groan. 

“Why would I want to do that?” She says as she rips your shirt in the middle. You are surprised by her urgency. You didn't know that Wanda even liked you. “Wow,” Wanda gasps as she admires your naked chest. She unhooks your bra and her eyes grow hungrier at the sight. You get rid of the rest of the fabric of your shirt and toss it to the floor. You roll off of Wanda and lay next to her to start to get rid of your pants. You had most of your abilities down but when it came to sexual urges, there was one thing you couldn't control completely. That was the cock that is currently growing and will soon be straining against your jeans. 

But before you can unbuckle your belt, Wanda climbs onto your chest and kisses you on the mouth again. “I have an idea,” she says against your lips as she holds your face in her delicate hands. 

“Mmm, please share,” you say as you kiss along her jaw. She maneuvers you so that you are laying properly on the bed. Then with magic, she chains you to the bed. Wanda removes her tight shirt and short shorts to reveal the red lace bra and the black thong. Your eyes widen at her lingerie. You never thought in your wildest dreams that you would be here. 

Wanda straddles your hips and you groan at the contact of her skin against yours. Her thighs rest against your sides. Her pussy juices drip through her thong and land on your stomach as she starts to gyrate her hips on your abs. You watch her breasts bounce as she moves on your abdomen and you lick your lips as you think about touching her. About sucking on her breasts. Licking her smooth stomach. Wanda puts her hand on your breasts as she continues to use your abs to create friction. You moan as she plays with your nipples. She makes eye contact with you as she leans in close to you. She makes you think she's good to kiss you but then her hips slide down and her pussy starts to ride your bulge as her lips kiss your neck. 

“Fuck” you his as her lips move to your collarbone. She sucks on your skin lightly as she makes shapes with her tongue. You imagine her sucking your cock and it causes you to thrust your hips into her middle. She yelps and looks at you. Her pupils have taken over her emerald eyes as she takes your breast into her mouth. “Wanda,” you beg as you thrust your hips up again. She takes her mouth off of your chest as she sits up again. Teasing you by slowly removing her bra. You groan again as you fight against your magical restraints. When her breasts are exposed, Wanda drops her hands to your belt. She unbuckles the accessory and unbuttons your jeans. She pulls your zipper down and stops there. 

Wanda drags her fingers at the top of the waistband of your boxers. She is driving you crazy. When she slips her fingers into your boxers you can't take it anymore. With your super strength, you break the magic handcuffs off and grab Wanda and flip the two of you so that you're on top. “That was hot,” Wanda says as she kisses you again. 

You get lost in her lips as your hands touch her everywhere. You have them on her hips then on her breasts then on her ass. Her skin is so soft and you want to touch every inch of her. You begin to suck on her neck as you move to explore her body with your lips. She sighs and moans when you reach especially sensitive spots on her body. Her hands continue to trace the ridges of your chest. You drop her breast from your mouth and grin. “You like what you feel?” 

Wanda blushes as she grows a bit shy. “I’ve been dreaming about them,” she says with pink cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just want to appreciate them while I have them.” She reaches up and kisses your neck. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to suck on your neck again. Her hands start to trail further down your body. She starts to push your pants and underwear further down until your cock bounces out. You moan from the relief. Her eyes widen at the sight. Her ex-boyfriend was a super computer that looked like a Ken-doll in the private area. She’s only seen dicks online and none of them come close to what is laying against her stomach. She couldn’t imagine how it was supposed to fit inside her virgin hole. She is surprised that fear isn’t controlling her nearly as much as it has in the past. But she can’t keep the thought as you roll your hips and the base of your cock grazes her clitoris just right. Her lips latch to yours again. You are typically someone that likes to take it slow but something has your body buzzing with energy and taking over your actions. 

Wanda’s hand wraps around your cock and you roll your hips into her soft hand. You have imagined her jerking you off before. It was in a car or in a closet or at a movie and it was always after or during a date. It wasn’t this fast, or this amazing. Your hand doesn’t compare to hers. You have to pull away as you feel yourself near your edge. 

“I’ve dreamt about you too,” you whisper against her lips. You fall lower on her body until your head is between her thighs. You kiss her left thigh first then her right. Wanda wimpers each time your lips press against her thighs. With your tongue you trace letters along her thighs claiming her as yours. “I’ve wanted to be in this position since I saw you at the freshman mixer,” you admit as you drag your tongue along the crevice between her thigh and vulva on her right side. “But you were taken for two  more years after that.”  You lick the left side and Wanda licks her lips as she watches you tease her. 

“Now I’m yours,” she says desperatley, “I’m all yours.” Her fingers lock into your short hair as she pulls you closer to her pussy. “Show me your deepest desires, Y/n.” You nod as you put your mouth on her entrance. You slip your tongue inside of her and use your abilities to have a deeper reach. Wanda’s eyes widen at the sensations as she feels your tongue wiggling inside of her. You feel a wall as you extend your tongue further and your eyes widen as you shrink your tongue to it’s normal size. 

You pull away and ask, “Are you a virgin?” Wanda grows shy again and tries to hide her face in her pillows. “It’s okay to be it’s just, are you sure you want to… with me… like this?” You say as you crawl up her body and remove the pillow from her face. “I just don’t want you to regret your decision later if there are reasons you waited this long,” you tell her softly. 

Wanda gazes into your eyes and takes your hand and brings it close to her. She kisses the palm of your hand as she holds eye contact and then places your hand over her heart. “I'm sure,” she answers softly. Then she pushes you back so that you lay on the bed. She pulls your pants and boxers all the way off and tosses them behind her. “I want you so bad right now, Y/n. I've wanted you for a long time.” She says as she moves her hands up your thighs until they meet in the middle to give attention to your cock again. She kisses the tip of your penis. Her soft plush lips send shivers down your spine just before she wraps them around the bulbous head. Your head falls back as she deep throats your cock. Taking as much as shee can down her throat without gagging. You’ve never seen that before. You can’t believe it. Wanda removes her mouth and you lift your head back up to watch her. “I don’t have a gag reflex,” Wanda smirks. You make a confused expression and Wanda giggles. She taps her temple, “Mind reader.” 

You sit up on your elbows, “Hold on,” you stop her from sucking your cock again. “You’re telling me that you’re more than a witch?” You shake your head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry for what you saw today. I promise, I like you for more than-”

“No, I don’t… I didn’t read your mind earlier. I,” she crawls up your body and sits on your chest again. She holds your face as she tries to explain her abilities. “I don’t like to know what other people are thinking so I take something that decreases my ability to read peoples minds. I can only read your mind when I’m touching you. I wasn’t doing that earlier,” she explains. 

A slow smile graces your lips. You move your fingers a long the length of her arms. “Does that mean you’re seeing what I’m thinking about now.” You take the palm of her hand and press your lips against her soft skin. The hitch in her breath is enough to let you know that she can see exactly what you intend to do with her tonight. “And what do you think?” 

Wanda leans in close to your lips and whispers, “I already told you to show me your deepest desires. So stop stalling.” She meets your lips in a slow, deep, kiss. Every time she kissed you she felt the effects of something grow stronger. She couldn’t place where it was coming from but she has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with that chocolate that Nathasha was being so weird about. It didn’t matter anymore. She was so close to having exactly what she wants. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you say with a raspy voice as you kiss her back. You move your hands down her body and rip her thong off of her. You aim the tip of your penis at her entrance and slip just the tip in to tease her as the two of you continue to kiss. You pump in her softly, slowly stretching her out with your girthy cock. Wanda’s mouth falls open as you slip inside her previously untouched walls further. You move your kisses from her lips to her cheeks then to her neck. Her hands move from your face to your shoulders as she helps you lower her further onto your throbbing rod. Her nails start to dig into your skin and it causes you to lose control of your thrust as you break her hymn in one strong thrust. 

“Holy shit,” she gasps. “I can feel you,” she says as you lick the sweat off from her collarbone. “You’re stretching me,” she moans as you thrust further into her. “I’m so full with your cock,” she continues and you groan as you bring her breast into your mouth. You get the full length of your dick inside of Wanda’s tight walls and you nearly bust a nut from how amazing she feels around you. “It feels so good,” she says while she moves her hips. You smile with your mouth full of her boobs. Then you drop it with a plop as you grab her hips.

You begin to pump inside of Wanda and fuck her as hard as you can. She is shocked by the pleasure she is feeling from such force but she is far from complaining about it. “Yes!” She screeches out as you pound her pussy with your thick meat. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She pulls you closer to her by wrapping her both arms around you. “Fuck you’re in so deep! Oh fuck! It’s so good! Fuck me Y/n! Fuck me!” She shouts as she continues to ride your cock while your hips slam into her. 

Your thrusts get so erratic that your cock slips out of her hole and you have to stop your hips from moving. You flip the two of you so that you are laying on top of her before you enter her again. “Ah fuck your pussy is so good, Wanda,” you moan as you enter her tight wet walls that is gripping your dick and pulling you further inside of her. “I’ve never done it raw before. Oh my gosh this feels amazing!” You say as rock your hips into Wanda. The sensitive skin on your penis is feeling every inch of her and you can’t believe any of this is real. 

“I’m so close,” Wanda gasps as her nails start to dig into your back. You didn’t know that you’d enjoy that feeling as much as you do. It drives you to speed up your thrusts again as you rub her clitoris with your thumb. 

“Cum for me,” you tell her and watch as her eyes roll back and her chest arches up into yours and feel as her walls squeeze the life out of your cock as if her body was trying to milk you. She screams out as she rides the waves of her orgasm. You don’t stop playing with her clitoris even after her body falls limp. 

“Don’t stop,” she says as she enjoys the over stimulation. You continue to rub her bundle of nerves while you pump your cock into her. 

“I’m, fuck, I’m close,” you warn her. “Don’t, mphm, worry. I’ll pull out,” you grunt out as you start to slow down your thrusts. That’s when Wanda’s legs wrap around your waist and lock you in. “Wanda what are you-” 

Wanda pulls you into a deep kiss. She dances her fingers along your jaw as you try to pull away. “Cum inside me,” she whispers. You head starts to shake but the request is too delicious that your eyes roll back as your cum starts to flow out of you and flood her pussy. “Mmm I can feel you pulsing inside of me,” she says as your cock empties inside of her. When you stop erupting, you try to pull out but Wanda shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says, “I don’t want to feel empty just yet.” You nod as you keep the two of you connected and sigh as you lay your head on her naked chest. Your limp body laying on top of hers. She is combing her fingers through your sweaty hair. “That was amazing,” she kisses your forehead. 

You give her a lazy smile with your eyes still closed, “It was. I wish we could live in this moment forever.” 

“I’ll allow it,” she responds softley. “But you’ll have to promise that you won’t want to be with anyone else.”

You make a face, “That’s an easy promise.” You lean up and kiss her cheek. “There is no one I’d rather be with.” You grab her hand and lay it on your chest over your heart. “You can even scan my mind. Sure, I’ve slept with people in the past. But I’ve always wanted to be with you. No one has ever invaded my mind the way you have.” 

Wanda bites her lip and sighs. “I don’t have to search your mind. I trust you.” She kisses your lips. 

After an hour of laying in her bed, connected to each other, you eventually pull out of her. Some of your cum flows out when you do and Wanda catches some on her fingers. She sucks them clean and you almost get hard again. But you manage to control yourself since you’re no longer under the influence of whatever you were under. You grab her polaroid camera from the top of her dresser and you point it at her. She gets shy and pulls some of her sheets over her body. She covers her face with her long light brown hair and you snap a picture. You wave it to help develop the image even though you know it doesn’t really do much. 

You smile as you look down at the image a year later when you’re getting ready for your wedding. You put the image in your wallet again and it’s still there when you’re racing Wanda to the hospital to deliever the babies. You glance at it when you’re sitting with her in the nursery as you remember the first time you got to have the most wild sex with Wanda and think about how the chocolate her best friend gave her led to all of this. Natasha confessed to what she did in her maid of honor toast. You have it with you on your tenth wedding anniversary and show it to Wanda during the special dinner. She blushes as she remembers how things used to be before the two of you became parents. Although she still made enchanted candles, the Tommy and Billy were quite disruptive with nightmares and bedwetting. It made moments that the two of you wer alone long enough to have sex that much more special. 

“You still have this?” Wanda asks as she was looking for cash to pay the pizza guy for the twins fifteenth birthday party. 

“Babe, I will carry this in my wallet until the day I die,” you tell her and give her a sweet kiss before running the pizza boxes over to the insatiable teenagers. Wanda paid the man and smiled to herself as she admired her younger form. She kept herself quite fit and so did you, but she couldn’t help but think that some areas were tighter in the picture than they’ll ever be again. She puts it back into your wallet so that you can keep your promise and you do. 

The End.

[pineconepie]

Can you write more with Vincent? Maybe about the reader adjusting to their new life with him?

TW: Parental yandere, infantilization, forced age regression

...

When you wake up, you're in the same bed.

You're not sure whether yesterday was a dream or reality.

But looking around the room, it sure seems real enough.

It takes a few moments to process everything that happened before, however.

Yesterday, you got caught spying for Vincent's rival group. Instead of killing you, he decided to adopt you as his child, bringing you back to his home where he treated you like his own kid. He made you dinner and put you to sleep.

You still think its a little bizarre, if not completely insane.

Who the hell does that!? Surely this must be a joke!

Its early morning when Vincent comes in to check on you, opening your curtains to let light shine through.

He's smiling widely. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Ready for breakfast?" He doesn't wait for your reply, just picks you up and carries you downstairs, placing you back down in one of the kitchen stools. "We are gonna go shopping today."

"What for?" you ask hesitantly.

"You don't have any clothes besides those, and there's no way you're keeping that outfit you were wearing yesterday. It needs to go," Vincent explains, rummaging through the cabinets. "Also need to buy you things for your room." He pours juice in a cup and sits it down in front of you. "Also need sippy cups, bottles, coloring books... maybe even pacifiers, if you want them. There's tons of adorable designs out there nowadays! Oh, and stuffies too!"

You blink at him owlishly. "That seems a lot to shop for in just one day."

He chuckles. "A lot of your stuff I'll just order online, but I'd like to take you clothes-shopping because its more fun that way. And if you're good during our trip today, we can go to the toy store."

For a second, you almost forget this is a grown man that murders people for a living. Because right now he seems like a normal father, going out with his child.

Its strange how well he switches between this and acting like a mafia boss.

"What does being good exactly mean?" you decide to ask.

"Hmm... No running off alone, staying close to me, using your manners, stuff like that. Basically just following orders," he elaborates. "Not difficult stuff."

"Will I have a choice in what clothes I get?" you inquire.

He smiles at you. "You'll get a say, but I still make the last decision."

That makes sense, since you assume you're probably expected to act young. So most likely your choices will be restricted. But that's okay, at least he isn't forcing you to dress only the way he wants.

After breakfast is finished, Vincent dresses you in an overly-puffy jacket that makes you resemble a marshmallow, along with mittens, boots, and a beanie. And a scarf wrapped tightly around your neck.

Once he deems you properly bundled, he holds your hand and heads downstairs.

In the limousine, he helps you sit next to him, giving you some fruit snacks. You're thankful for that because it keeps you from needing to speak, since you have no idea what to even say in this situation.

"Where to?" the driver asks.

"The mall," Vincent answers simply. Then he smiles down at you. "You excited, pumpkin? Getting you new clothes is going to be lots of fun."

You don't respond immediately, still lost in thought about everything that's happened within the past twenty-four hours. You manage to snap yourself out of your daze enough to nod weakly. "Yeah..." you say softly. "Lots of fun..."

The driver nods, and drives you and Vincent there without another word. You lean against him tiredly. You still don't understand what happened yesterday.

Everything just happened so fast, and the next thing you knew you ended up living with a literal mob boss. This is all so insane.

When you arrive, he walks you through the massive building, holding onto your hand firmly to keep you close. There's tons of different stores to choose from, all kinds of brands and sizes and styles.

You've never been inside a mall like this before — you were always too busy, and couldn't afford to come here anyway.

This would usually excite you, if your circumstances were different.

"Mr. Brewer," a woman greets upon seeing you both enter the shop connected to the mall. "What can I help you with today? It's been a while since we've had the pleasure of your company."

"Oh yes, it certainly has," he responds pleasantly. "I'm here to pick up some clothes for my kiddo here." He pinches your cheek.

She grins. "Ah, okay. I think I have some selections you both might like."

The woman begins showing Vincent various articles of clothing — all of which are way more expensive than you can ever imagine affording yourself.

You don't care for many of them, but Vincent seems happy whenever she shows him another item.

Vincent holds at least one of every major designer brand's latest creations in his arms. Valentino, Givenchy, Burberry, Gucci, Prada, Versace, Louis Vuitton... It goes on.

In the end, he chooses several outfits from each label, ranging from formal wear to casual everyday attire, even swimsuits, footwear, sleepwear...

He grabs things left and right as they walk around the store. Soon, he hands off his haul to his personal shopper so she can tally up the total price.

"You don't need to buy all this, you know?" you whisper to him nervously. "I mean... a shirt is a shirt."

"Nonsense," Vincent replies. "Only the best for my baby, hmm?" He boops your nose. "Now lets get out of here and find you some stuffies at the toy store." And before you can protest anymore, he escorts you out the door, hauling the bags with him effortlessly. He carries the shopping bags with ease, despite you knowing it has to weigh several pounds.

The drive to the toy shop isn't far, luckily. Inside, everything is colorful and bright, with aisles upon aisles of stuffed animals, board games, dolls, action figures... everything one could possibly think of.

Its honestly overwhelming for someone who has rarely stepped foot inside one such establishment.

You follow Vincent to the plushie aisle. "Choose anything you like," he tells you.

With a bit of hesitance, you pick up a random plush toy and show it to Vincent, who inspects it. After deciding it passes his standards, he adds it to the basket hanging off of his wrist.

He repeats this process for several more minutes, letting you choose different ones, while rejecting others based on appearance or quality.

By the end, he must have bought well over three hundred dollars worth of soft toys. You wonder how much money he plans on spending on you...

Finally, once Vincent finishes picking out items, you head towards the checkout line, where he pays for your purchases without batting an eye. Once everything is paid for, he thanks the cashier politely, handing her his credit card.

After putting away his wallet, he offers you his free hand. Hesitantly, you accept it.

He walks you outside. "Let's go home, sugar cube." And he opens your car door, gesturing you to sit down and buckle up your seatbelt.

As you fumble with the buckles, Vincent puts your newly acquired plushies inside their individual shopping bag, loading it into the trunk. Once done, he enters the car himself, and the driver takes off.

"How much was all that?" you finally muster up the courage to ask after a few minutes of driving in silence.

Vincent shrugs. "I wasn't counting." He pulls up his phone and into his bank account. "About fifteen thousand dollars. Thought it would've been more."

Fifteen thousand. For just a shopping trip.

How rich is this man?

Before you can voice your question aloud, you arrive home.

The limousine parks itself on the side of the street near his penthouse complex.

A valet opens your door and helps Vincent out first, before helping you as well. He grabs your hand after grabbing the bags, leading you towards the main entrance.

"Welcome back, sir," August greets again from the front desk. "Anything you need assistance with?" His gaze lands on the bags in Vincent's grasp.

Vincent shakes his head. "Nah, don't worry about these. We're headed straight upstairs." He pushes the button to the elevator, ushering you inside once it arrives.

After all that today, you're exhausted. You rub your eyes and yawn widely. Shopping wore you out more than it should've. You just want to crawl into bed now and nap forever.

"Is my baby sleepy?" he coos.

You open your mouth to answer him, but it gets cut off by another loud yawn.

"Thought so. You're falling asleep on your feet." He scoops you up, cradling you close to his chest. The smell of his cologne is oddly soothing, causing you to relax further against his chest. "We can have a little naptime after lunch, I suppose. Dad could definitely use a nap, too." He gives your forehead a kiss, as the elevator stops, and he carries you to the apartment.

It amazes you how strong he is. To carry you around like it's nothing is incredible, like you're actually a baby.

And yet, you feel safe enough in his hold not to struggle, even if you don't want to admit it.

He sits on the couch with you in his lap, turning on an kid's movie.

"Can we watch something other than kid stuff?" you mutter.

He scoffs. "But you're a kid, silly."

"But—"

"Shh."

As soon as it starts playing, you don't know if its due to exhaustion, but your eyelids begin feeling heavy.

You rest your chin against Vincent's shoulder, nuzzling his neck. Along with his cologne, he also smells like spices, coffee grounds, and a bit like gunpowder. Its a surprisingly pleasant mix, not overpowering or unpleasantly fragrant.

"Did you have fun today?" Vincent asks, petting your hair.

"I guess," you murmur. "I don't wanna do anymore shopping, though."

Vincent hums. "It is exhausting, isn't it? We can stop for now and pick up the rest online." He tickles your side, chuckling at your immediate reaction, and peppers kisses all over your face, eliciting a squeal from you. "My sweet baby, all tuckered out..." He grabs one of the teddy bears out of the bag. "What will you name this one?"

"T...Teddy?" you stammer. Its the first name you can think of, and it sounds reasonable.

Vincent presses the bear close to your chest, which you happily cling to. "Hello, Teddy," he murmurs, "nice to meet you."

You sniffle, hiding your face in the crook of his neck again.

"Aww," Vincent giggles, rubbing your back. "My little cuddle bug. Get some sleep now, kiddo. Don't worry 'bout a thing."

[alsofoundinpeas]

Beyond the Window

Summary: With her package plan a success, the only thing standing between Y/N and Spencer now was his job. But as soon as he returned home, nothing would hold them back from finally acting on their feelings—this time, with no windows in the way. (Part One)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Some might consider this dubcon (talk of Spencer watching reader through her window but reader had wanted him to) so please be aware of that! Fingering (f!receiving), oral (both m and f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (birth control mentioned), overstimulation/multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), dry humping (if you squint), creampie (fuck I hate typing that), minor corruption kink, heavy praise, Virgin!Spencer, Sub!Spencer (he is pathetic and LOUD in this FYI), Soft Dom!reader, Perv!Spencer and Perv!Reader (they're back at it again LMFAO). Both fluffy and smutty. They match each other’s freak your honor!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Anddd done! This was, to date, the filthiest thing I've written so I'm nervous but I also loved writing it LMAO. I hope you guys enjoy part two as much as I enjoyed writing it :') I'll be putting out more sub!Spence in the future, but for now I hope you guys like this!! As always, please let me know what you guys think and if you do enjoy it then please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Spencer was certain the universe was playing a cruel, twisted prank on him.

It was the only explanation for being called into work early on a Sunday morning when he was supposed to be off. The night before, he’d gone to bed without replying to Y/N, hoping to come up with the perfect witty, flirty response the next day—when his brain wasn't a pile of mush. As he hurried to pack a go-bag and get dressed, Spencer cursed under his breath for waiting. Now, he’d have to send a hasty, jumbled apology and hope that Y/N would still want him to come over when he got back.

While Spencer drove—a task he loathed but had no choice in, given the lack of time for the metro—Penelope briefed him on the case details. The team was being sent to Wyoming to assist with a rapidly escalating unsub, which explained the need to get there quickly. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as Penelope spoke. Even with the case's urgency, his mind kept returning to Y/N.

“Reid?” Penelope sighed, then tried again. “Hello? Earth to Reid?!”

Spencer snapped back to reality, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got distracted. What was the last part again?”

Penelope's laughter echoed through the phone. “What’s keeping your mind so busy? Besides all your usual genius stuff, that is."

Spencer groaned, knowing that the blonde wouldn’t stop pressing until she got an answer. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly began to explain.

"There’s this girl who lives across from me, and I’ve had a crush on her for a while… We’d run into each other a few times at the library and the coffee shop near my place, but recently, a package of hers ended up at my door. I took it to her yesterday morning, and we ended up hanging out—" He paused, swallowing hard as his mind drifted to what had happened that night, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. "Anyway, she texted me to come over again, but then I got called in for the case. So, yeah, she’s just been on my mind."

Spencer winced as a loud squeal erupted from the phone, quickly followed by the sound of enthusiastic clapping.

“Spencer! That’s adorable! What’s her name?”

“Nope. Not a chance. I know you’ll look her up and start stalking her!” Spencer protested as he pulled into the parking garage. “Look, I just got here, so I’ll see you when we get back. Please keep this between us for now, alright? I don’t need everyone hounding me about it while we have a case to focus on.”

Penelope groaned dramatically but gave in, sighing in playful annoyance. “Ugh, fine, lover boy. You just ruined all my fun,” she grumbled. “Be safe, my sweet angel, and tell Derek to call me when you guys land!”

Spencer finished the call and hung up, swiftly typing out a message to send to Y/N before he had to go in. His thumbs clumsily pressed the buttons as he hurried, letting out an annoyed sigh as he fumbled with his flip-phone. He’d never been a fan of modern technology, but if getting a new phone meant it would be easier to talk to her, he’d consider it.

Good morning! I hope you slept well. Apologies for the late response. I’d love to come over, but unfortunately, I’ve been called in for a case. Would you still like me to come by once I get back?

Spencer gave a nod to himself, hit send, then gathered his things and stepped out of the car.

Y/N paused when she heard her phone ding, toothbrush still in her mouth. She quickly finished brushing, swishing mouthwash as she walked to her room to grab her phone. Returning to the bathroom, she spat out the mouthwash before finally glancing at the waiting text.

A small giggle fell from her lips as she read Spencer’s message, leaning back against the sink as she responded.

Of course, Spencer. Only if you want to :) xoxo

He texted like an old man (which wasn't surprising, considering his wardrobe). She thought it was charming. She placed her phone on the bathroom counter and stepped toward the shower to start the water, a smile still playing on her lips from his message.

A content sigh fell from her lips once she stepped into the hot stream of water, letting the water relax her tight muscles.

As her soapy hands began to wander her body, her mind wandered back to Spencer and just how deliciously pathetic he’d looked stroking himself to the sight of her. Honestly, Y/N had worried she’d scared the poor guy with her message after he’d watched her the night before, so seeing his text was a relief. Now, she just had to wait for him to return from his case—and then he’d finally be all hers.

The week crawled by, each day stretching on painfully, leaving both of them restless and longing for each other's company.

Each night when Y/N came home, she’d glance out of her curtains, hoping to see that Spencer had returned, only to let out a quiet sigh when she found he hadn’t. She couldn’t remember ever being this excited to see someone before. Something about Spencer had her completely hooked—not just his looks, but the man behind them. After spending time with him, she was eager to uncover more about the sweet, brilliant person who lived across from her.

Another four days went by before the text she’d been waiting for finally came through.

Hey pretty girl, we just landed so I’ll be home in about an hour. Are you up for some company?

Y/N arched a brow as she read the message, re-reading it a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. That didn’t sound like Spencer at all… but she was too eager for him to come over to worry about it now. She’d figure out who actually sent it when he arrived.

With a small grin, Y/N typed her reply, then set her phone down to get ready and tidy up her apartment.

“Morgan! Come on! Are you serious?” Spencer griped, swatting at the man in an attempt to grab his phone back. “What did you say to her?”

Penelope had (accidentally) let it slip to Morgan that Spencer was, in her words, "dating but not dating this super cute girl who lives across from him." Naturally, she’d ignored his requests for privacy, tracked down the tenant list for Y/N’s building, and found her online after figuring out she was the one. So, when Morgan glanced over Spencer's shoulder and saw the carefully composed message he’d written, he snatched the phone and sent something entirely different.

“Relax, kid! I’m just helping you out. You’re going to scare her off if you keep talking to her like a geezer,” Morgan chuckled, tossing him back his phone before standing from his seat and stretching. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head in frustration before unlocking his phone to check the message. He cringed at what Morgan had sent, but then his heart skipped a beat as he read Y/N’s reply.

Come over whenever you’re ready, pretty boy. I can’t wait to see you. :)

Spencer’s face flushed as he brushed off the curious looks from the team, eager to get off the jet and head home to drop his stuff off—then straight to Y/N’s. A mix of nervousness and excitement churned inside him, his hands trembling as he started the drive home. It felt surreal to him, knowing not only that she was excited to see him, but that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

A firm knock at the door pulled Y/N’s attention from the couch, a bright smile spreading across her face as she jumped up to answer it. "Coming!" she called, quickly unlocking the door. When she opened it, Spencer stood there, looking a bit nervous and holding a bag of takeout from her favorite diner.

"Oh, Spencer," she murmured, her gaze softening as she noticed the bag. "You’re so sweet! You didn’t have to get dinner—I was planning to order something when you got here." She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him and taking the bag from his hand so he could slip off his coat.

Spencer waved it off with a sheepish grin as he followed her into the kitchen. "I wanted to," he said. "I noticed you ordered from them a lot and thought it would be a nice surprise." His eyes widened in panic. "Not that I’ve been, like, stalking you or anything! And, um, I'm sorry if I didn’t pick the right thing. I can run back and grab something else—"

“Spencer.”

Y/N sat down the plates she'd gotten out for them and silenced his nervous rambling by gently cupping his cheeks. Spencer froze mid-sentence, his mouth slightly open as he looked down at her. She smiled up at him, softly stroking her thumb along his cheekbone.

“You did perfect, sweetheart,” she reassured him, her gaze flicking to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “It was so thoughtful of you to pick up dinner. I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you ordered. Thank you.”

Spencer swallowed, his heart pounding at the feel of her hands on his face. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself before he whispered, “Of course.”

Y/N smiled, brushing her hand over his cheek one last time before turning back to plate the food, which looked and smelled delicious. Once she finished, she headed to the fridge, glancing back at Spencer. "Wine, water, or soda?"

"Water, please. Thank you."

Nodding, Y/N poured herself a glass of wine and then filled one with water for him. They walked into the living room, both of them buzzing with anticipation for what was to come later. They sat side by side, enjoying the warmth that came from being pressed together as they began to eat.

"So," Y/N started, laughing softly before continuing. "Who texted me from your phone earlier today? Unless the grandfather ghost inhabiting your body decided to take a rain check."

Spencer groaned in embarrassment, chuckling awkwardly as he glanced at her. "Sorry about that… that was my co-worker, Derek. And best friend too. He accused me of 'talking to you like a geezer' and decided to try and do better himself."

Y/N laughed even harder, putting her fork down to take a sip of her wine before replying. "I knew it wasn’t you!" she said with a triumphant grin, then paused, a new realization dawning on her. "You talk about me to your team?"

Spencer hesitated, finishing his bite slowly before taking a drink and nodding. "Sort of… I told Penelope about you, and then she mentioned it to Derek. I’m sorry—i-is that okay?" His fingers pushed his glasses up, a nervous habit of his.

It was more than okay. A giddy feeling rushed through her at the idea of him talking about her to his co-workers, recalling how he'd mentioned during their first hangout how much he valued them. She nodded, nudging him with her shoulder gently.

“You apologize too much, Spence. It’s totally fine. If anything, I’m flattered,” she admitted with a grin.

It didn’t take long for them to finish eating. Once the plates were cleared and placed in the sink, Y/N turned to Spencer, a small smirk playing on her lips. Spencer swallowed, leaning back against the counter, his eyes locked on her with a mix of curiosity as she began to speak.

"Do you watch every girl you're interested in through their window? Or am I just special?"

Her tone was playful, not angry or accusatory, but Spencer still tensed, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself.

"I swear I didn’t mean to come off as creepy or anything," Spencer stammered. "It’s just… from the moment I met you in the library, you were so captivating. And when I found out you lived across from me, I couldn’t help myself—"

Y/N's gaze softened as she realized just how nervous he actually was, and she took a step forward, shushing him with a finger to his lips.

"Spence, hey. Look at me, sweetheart,” she murmured, her arms loosely wrapping around his neck. She waited until their eyes met, then continued, her fingers gently twisting the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was just teasing. I wanted you to watch. That’s why I left my curtains open.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at her admission, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he recalled every time she’d left her curtains open. All this time, she had wanted him to watch. The realization sent a strange warmth through him, and he carefully placed his hands on her waist.

“So, was the package at my door part of your plan too?” he breathed, his expression a blend of lust and adoration as he looked down at her.

Y/N's answer came in the form of a nod and a smug grin. Spencer chuckled, his nerves easing the longer he held her in his arms.

"I didn’t think you’d ever make a move, so I decided to take matters into my own hands," she said softly, still grinning as she met his gaze, mirroring the admiration in his eyes.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad you did?” he murmured, his hands gently caressing her lower back through her shirt. “You’re just… perfect. I was afraid you wouldn’t even give me the time of day if I’d tried to.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open in surprise, her brows furrowing as she tilted her head. “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously, letting her hands slide to rest on his shoulders as she leaned back in his embrace. “Spencer, I adore you. You could’ve asked me out in the library, right then, after just thirty seconds of knowing each other, and I would’ve said yes without a second thought. You really don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She tilted her head up, brushing her nose against his, continuing before he could speak. "Let me show you just how incredible I think you are. Please?"

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, his heart racing at her words. It was exactly what he wanted, more than anything. But he hesitated, his mouth working as he fought to find the right words.

"I'm a virgin!" he not-so-eloquently blurted out instead.

Y/N's head jerked back, blinking hard as she processed his words. Had she heard him right?

"Wait... what did you just say?"

Spencer blushed hard, averting his gaze to the ground as he repeated himself.

"I'm a virgin."

It was Y/N’s turn to suck in a sharp breath, the admission arousing her more than she’d care to admit. She rubbed his shoulders gently before using one of her hands to guide his face back to hers, her gaze earnest as she looked at him.

“Honey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything at all—“

Spencer shook his head vigorously at that, a low whine emitting from his throat as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to do everything with you. I want to more than anything, I swear! I-I just… I don’t want it to be bad for you,” he whispered, unnecessary shame lacing his words.

“Spencer… sweetheart, it would never be bad for me as long as I’m with you,” Y/N whispered, her voice warm and steady. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, babe. Honestly, we could just curl up on the couch, watch a movie, or talk. I love talking with you, about anything.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at her words. No one had ever told him they truly enjoyed his company before, nor had anyone ever shown such genuine affection or concern for his emotions. It was a feeling he hadn’t known he was missing.

“I’m more than sure, Y/N. Please?” he mumbled, his grip on her hips tightening slightly. “I-I want to make you feel good.”

She paused, her eyes closing as she carefully considered her next move. After a long breath, Y/N gave a small nod, then pulled away from him completely.

“Follow me, then.”

Spencer hurried after her, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his eagerness to keep up. Once they reached her bedroom, Y/N shut the door and turned to face him, leaving him standing in the middle of her dimly lit room. He glanced around, almost in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was really here—standing in her room and not caught in some dream.

“Bet it feels different being in here rather than just looking in,” Y/N teased, stepping closer to him.

“Very. I’m still waiting for the cameraman to jump out and tell me it’s all a prank.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she shook her head with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not happening. No prank, sweetheart,” she hummed, her eyes catching the way his gaze swept over her, full of unspoken desire.

Y/N smirked as she took another step forward, urging Spencer backward until the backs of his knees hit her mattress. She reached up, pushing down gently on his shoulders until he gingerly sat on the bed, looking up at her with wide eyes as she moved to straddle his lap. Her fingers carded through his hair, tugging gently and eliciting a whimper from him as she cocked her head.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she murmured, scratching her nails gently against his scalp.

A shiver ran down Spencer’s spine, his brows furrowing at her words. He shifted underneath her, resting his shaking hands on her hips. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the sight.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

Y/N’s words lingered in the air, their breaths the only sound breaking the stillness. The tension between them was electric, each waiting for the other to break first. Finally, Spencer did, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

The slight tremble in his voice and the doe-eyed look he sported were all it took for Y/N’s resolve to crumble completely.

With a low groan, her lips crashed onto his. Their mouths melded together, the small whine bubbling in Spencer’s throat encouraging her to kiss him even harder. His hands reached up to cradle her face, matching her intensity as their lips moved together.

It wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

Spencer didn’t kiss her like the shy, hesitant man from earlier. Instead, his kiss was fiery, almost desperate, as though he wanted to drown in her and never resurface. And she found herself wanting exactly the same.

Y/N’s hands wandered from his hair down his chest, letting her fingertips dip beneath the hem of his shirt as their tongues brushed together. Her nails gently dragged along the soft skin there, and she felt his erection twitch from where it was firmly pressed to her core. Spencer whimpered, breaking their kiss with a soft gasp as he looked up at her pleadingly.

“Please,” he panted, his hands reaching for her hips to pull her down into him. Y/N rolled her hips against his, moaning lowly at the friction. She repeated the action once before stopping her movements, climbing off of him despite his protests with one simple command.

"Take off your clothes, Spence."

He complied immediately, scrambling to stand and strip out of his clothes. His fingers fumbled as he worked at his tie, his focus stuck on her as she undressed before him. A frustrated groan left his lips as he finally yanked the tie off, his hands moving too slowly for his own liking.

Y/N arched a brow, chuckling at his irritated noise as she stepped out of her pants. She reached up to stop his hands, beginning to unbutton his shirt herself. "What's got you so worked up, hm? It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before," she purred, sliding her hands under the fabric and slipping it off of him.

The shirt hit the ground with a muted thump, and her eyes roamed over his newly exposed skin hungrily. Spencer whined at her teasing, letting his hands roam up and down her sides as she worked on getting his pants off.

"I could see you like this an infinite amount of times, and it would still take my breath away every time," he murmured, his hands gently squeezing her hips.

A faint pink spread across her cheeks at his words, and she lifted her face to place a soft kiss on his lips, a silent thank you. No one had ever made her feel as treasured as Spencer did. He gazed at her with a devotion that felt almost reverent, as though she were someone to be worshipped—and he longed to be the one to worship her.

Which was highly ironic, considering she was the one sinking to her knees the second his pants pooled around his ankles.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Spencer's voice raised pitch as she steadied herself with her hands on his thighs, looking down at her with wide eyes, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they threatened to slip down from the angle.

"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart?" Y/N murmured, leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to his hip. "I want your pretty cock down my throat. You okay with that?"

The sound Spencer made was almost pained, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. His mouth parted, a stutter escaping him before he finally gave in, nodding instead. His cock twitched in his boxers, aching to feel her touch.

"Words, baby. Use your words."

Y/N's lips skimmed across his navel, peppering kisses along the smattering of hair there as she waited for his response.

"God—yes! I'm okay with that," Spencer whined, his hips bucking forward instinctively from her touch. "Please... please touch me—"

Y/N couldn't deny such sweet begging. It would be downright cruel if she did.

Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly. She kept her eyes locked on his, carefully assessing his every reaction to ensure there was no trace of doubt before proceeding. When she saw none, she swiftly yanked them down the rest of the way, letting them pool around his ankles with his pants.

Spencer gasped as the chill of her bedroom air met his warm skin, goosebumps spreading across his arms as he fought the urge to shy away from her gaze. He never thought that highly of himself in the physical aspect— all lean muscles, lanky limbs, and pale skin spattered with freckles and a few random scars. But his insecurities faded the moment he heard her breath catch, her eyes filled with admiration as they lingered on him.

"You're so beautiful, Spencer," Y/N breathed, bringing a hand up to grip him gently. "So, so beautiful."

Her mouth was on him before he could respond.

A keening sound filled the room as he watched in pure awe as she dragged her tongue up and down the length of him slowly before her lips wrapped around the flushed head of his cock, a spark of pleasure shooting up his spine as his hands flexed by his side. She sucked gently, swirling her tongue around the tip before pulling off of him to speak.

"Don't be afraid to hold onto me, sweetheart. Go ahead."

Spencer's hands immediately came up to cradle the back of her head, finding purchase as she returned to what she was doing. The sight of her on her knees and taking the length of him into her mouth had his knees almost buckling. It was something he'd dreamed about for nights on end, but now that it was actually happening, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"F-fuck—" He whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut to prevent himself from cumming right then and there.

All he'd ever experienced before was his own hand (and occasionally some desperate humping against his mattress), so the feeling of her mouth around him was otherworldly. Just when he thought it was safe to open his eyes again, Y/N smirked around her mouthful and pushed her head down to take him in completely.

"Oh—!" Spencer cried out as he hit the back of her throat, jolting and stumbling backward and falling out of her mouth with a slick 'pop'. His chest heaved as he reached down to grip himself tightly, staving off his orgasm. He didn't want to cum yet. Not this quickly.

"I-I'm sorry, it just felt too... too good—"

Y/N gently stroked his trembling thighs, pressing a kiss beneath his belly button before rising to her feet. She shushed his stammered apologies with a kiss on his forehead, caressing his face as he caught his breath. His face was flushed, both from embarrassment and arousal, and the sight was more endearing than it should have been.

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing," she whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to crawl onto her bed. “Get up here, baby,” she crooned as she laid back against her pillows, patting the spot beside her.

Spencer almost tripped over his pants in his haste to follow after her, kicking the fabric away before he kneeled onto the mattress, smiling meekly at Y/N as she watched in amusement. "I w-want—" Spencer paused as he watched her lean forward so she could unclasp her bra, completely enraptured. "I want to taste you. Please?"

Desire coursed through her at his words, searing through her veins as she met his gaze. She loved how pretty the word please sounded falling from his kiss-swollen lips. She slipped free from her bra, tossing it to the ground before answering his pleading.

"Go ahead, baby. Take whatever you want—I want you to have it all."

Spencer swallowed hard at that, a small grin playing on his lips as he moved forward to settle between her spread legs. He kneeled between them, taking off his glasses and setting them on her nightstand before lowering himself to hover over her. He bumped his nose against hers, his grin widening as he moved to tentatively kiss along the side of her neck.

Y/N moaned at the feeling, tangling her fingers into his tousled strands. He continued, trailing his kisses down the slope of her shoulder before pausing to suck a small mark into her skin, relishing in the soft noises falling from her lips. Once he was satisfied with his mark, he brought his lips down to mouth along her breast, laving his tongue over the taut bud of her nipple.

"Spence—" she whimpered as he closed his lips around the hardened peak, suckling with a low groan that rumbled against her skin. She tugged at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. "Feels so good, sweetheart."

Spencer hummed, pulling off her breast after a moment and switching to the other to give it the same treatment. Y/N whined, arching into his touch as he began to move down her body. What he may have lacked in physical experience, he more than compensated for with knowledge.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a prude. He'd read plenty of erotic novels, as well as countless books all centered around the female anatomy and how to inflict the most pleasure so that he could at least pretend to feel prepared for his first time. It seemed to be paying off, though, if the noises she made were any indication of how he was doing.

Spencer's hands came up to rest on her hips as he settled on his stomach between her thighs, hissing softly when his erection pressed into the mattress. His eyes met hers, and the clouded look in her eyes was all the encouragement he needed.

"God, you're soaked," he whispered in astonishment as his finger traced the damp spot in the front of her panties, causing a breathy chuckle to slip from her lips.

"How could I not be?"

Spencer blushed, leaning down to kiss her inner thigh before pulling the fabric down her legs. His breath hitched at the sight of her glistening pussy, fully on display for him without the barrier of their windows in his way. Any coherent thought that was swirling around in his head vanished, replaced with an urgent need to taste her. He moved without thinking as he latched his mouth onto her eagerly, groaning against her slick skin as he began to lap at her hungrily.

"Fuck! Spencer—" Y/N cried out, her grip on his hair tightening at the unexpected pleasure. Her head tipped back against her pillows as her hips writhed under his ministrations, rolling against his mouth as he devoured her.

There was little to no technique— just pure, unbridled enthusiasm. But it felt so good that she didn't care. He alternated between sucking at her clit and thrusting his tongue into her, needy moans slipping from his lips the entire time he did.

"Fingers, baby—" she gasped, biting her lower lip harshly to stifle a loud moan. "Use your fingers, too."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He pulled away from her, licking the taste of her from his lips as he brought two fingers up to her entrance. He focused his gaze on her face as he pushed them inside of her, his mouth hanging open and soft breaths panting against her skin as he began to thrust them.

"Like this?"

His tone wasn't cocky or arrogant. It was curious, like he was genuinely invested in finding out what felt the best for her. She nodded, a choked moan slipping from her lips as he grazed against that rough patch of nerves inside of her that had her hips thrashing.

Spencer watched in fascination for a moment before bringing his head back down, his eyes fluttering shut as he began to trace her clit with his tongue. His hips rocked instinctively against the bed, grinding against it in a desperate attempt to find some relief for his aching cock as he brought her closer and closer to her climax.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, her hands falling from his hair to grip the sheets as she clenched around his fingers. "I-I'm cumming—"

Spencer groaned against her, doubling his efforts so he could watch her fall apart on his fingers. With a soft cry, Y/N came hard, her eyes squeezing shut as she trembled underneath him. He continued his movements, pumping his fingers into her gently until she was whining and wriggling away from his touch.

Spencer watched her in awe, kneading her thighs and hips to help her come down from her high.

"C'mere," she panted after a few minutes, finally opening her eyes to look up at him as he moved to hover above her.

A proud grin made its way to Spencer's face as he obeyed, resting on his forearms as he looked down at her. The hazy look in her eyes made his heart race, knowing that he was the cause of it doing more for his ego than he cared to admit. She returned his grin, leaning up to kiss him softly and tasting herself on his tongue.

"You did so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy for me," she mumbled against his lips.

She broke the kiss to press on his shoulders, rolling them over so she straddled him once more. A lazy smirk adorned her lips as he looked up at her, his pupils so dilated that the soft brown of his eyes was indiscernible. She began to rock her hips against his aching cock, a sigh slipping from her lips as her folds dragged over him.

Spencer moaned lowly at the friction, bringing his hands up to palm at her ass as she continued her movements. His fingers dug into her flesh as she spoke, but he didn't hear a single word she said as he kept his gaze locked on where her pussy was gliding along his length.

"Hey," Y/N cooed, patting his cheek gently to guide his eyes back to hers. "Eyes on me, sweetheart."

Spencer whined, his hips bucking underneath hers in an attempt to bring back the delicious friction that had been taken away when she lifted her hips. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't listening," Spencer mumbled sheepishly, his face flushed as he held her gaze.

Y/N chuckled, tutting in mock disappointment as she gripped his chin. "I know you weren't," she muttered with an arched brow before continuing. "I was asking if you wanted to use a condom or not. I'm clean and—"

"No condom!"

Y/N jumped, startled. The urgency in his voice sent a wave of warmth through her as she eyed him in amusement, enjoying the bashful look that immediately appeared on his face after his exclamation. Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to regain some of his dignity.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to borderline shout that," Spencer said softly, his voice cracking slightly. "I just— I want to feel you, please. Without a condom in the way, preferably."

The grin that spread across her face could only be described as salacious as she nodded, cradling his face before leaning in for a tender kiss.

"No condom it is, then."

Y/N shifted up onto her knees, reaching between them to align him with her entrance before pausing when he spoke up.

"I— um... C-can I be on top of you instead?" he whispered, looking up at her with nervous eyes.

Her gaze softened at the sight, and she nodded immediately. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want, remember?" She murmured with a fond smile, rolling off of him to lay back against the pillows.

Spencer thanked her quietly, moving to hover above her once more. His body trembled as he propped up on one arm, reaching down to line himself up with her once more. She cradled his face, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone reassuringly. He took a deep breath to steady himself before pushing forward, sinking into her.

The feeling of her tight walls wrapping around him had him keening while she moaned just as loudly in return, dropping his head into the crook of her neck as he sucked in desperate, shaky breaths. He'd never experienced pleasure so overwhelming before. He was honestly convinced he'd died right there in her arms, pressing sloppy kisses to her skin just to prove to himself that he was, in fact, still alive.

"God— feels so good," he began to babble, moaning softly as he pulled his hips back slightly before thrusting forward again. "So tight... so wet— fuck!"

Y/N dug her nails into his shoulders, whimpering as he thrusted into her again, this time a little harder. "That's it, Spence," she panted, encouraging him to begin really moving. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking deep."

Spencer's hips jerked at that, his head dropping back into the crook of her neck as he began to drive into her in short, jagged thrusts. Moans slipped freely from his lips, mingling with hers as their bodies moved in tandem.

It didn't take long before the familiar tightening in his stomach came back, but he was too lost in the pleasure to stop. The feeling of Y/N around him was addictive. He seeked solace in her walls, rutting into her like a man possessed now as he sang her his praises against her skin. His hips stuttered as he lifted his head up, crashing his lips onto hers in a messy kiss as his hips pounded against hers even harder.

"Gonna— cum, fuck, I'm cumming—"

Spencer cried out against her lips, burying himself as deep inside of her as he could before filling her with rope after rope of his release. A pitiful noise fell from his lips as he broke the kiss, his eyes wide as he gawked down at her. His hips stopped moving, but before he could speak, Y/N was looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down.

“Did I say you could stop fucking me, Spencer?” Y/N’s voice was taunting in his ear, her nails digging into his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him in place.

Spencer’s brows pinched together as confusion washed over him, and his arms trembled as he struggled to remain hovering above her. His cock twitched inside of her as she canted her hips up, causing him to hiss softly from the overstimulation. His lower lip wobbled as he stared at her with a half-dazed, half-pleading look.

"W-what?"

“You greedy boy,” Y/N purred as she rolled her hips again. She smirked at the whimper he let out before tilting her head to skim her lips across his. “Don’t you want to feel me cum on your cock? Hm?”

Spencer shuddered at her words, chasing helplessly after her lips. He whined petulantly when she tilted her head, keeping him from succeeding in getting his kiss.

“I do,” Spencer whimpered, nodding fervently. “I wanna feel it so bad,” he groaned, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure coursing through him from head to toe.

“Then keep fucking me, sweetheart.”

A determined look crossed over his face, his brows knitting together as he shifted up onto his knees and pulled her hips up before thrusting forward. The change in angles had her crying out as he brushed against her sweet spot, and he grunted as he began to rock into her slowly, pushing past the sweet sting of overstimulation. He tightened his grip on her hip with one hand while his other moved to where they were connected, rubbing small, sloppy circles against her clit as he began moving with a purpose.

“Mm—“ Y/N groaned out, her eyes threatening to close as she struggled to keep them focused on his face. “Just like that, Spence. Ah—!“

The sound of his hips snapping against hers paired with the slick, crude sound of him fucking his cum back into her had his head lolling back, a guttural moan rumbling in his throat.

His hips were relentless, chasing her pleasure more so than his own now. It was messy and borderline feral—their mixed arousal coated his pelvis and her thighs and one of the corners of the sheets had come up from Y/N yanking at them. But neither of them could find it in themselves to care.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Spencer begged, shifting her legs up onto his shoulders and clinging to her thighs as he drove into her. “Please—wanna feel you cum on my cock… I need it—“

The sound of his pleading hurled her over the edge. Y/N’s nails nearly tore through the sheets as her eyes squeezed shut, cry after cry of his name falling from her open mouth as she came around him. Her body trembled from the force of her orgasm, her walls clenching so tightly around him that it triggered his second climax unexpectedly.

“Oh my God— oh— fuck!” Spencer wailed, devolving into a series of whimpers as he spilled everything he had into her.

After a moment of ragged breathing, he turned to press a kiss to her ankle before easing her limp legs off of his shoulders and to the bed. Y/N stroked his hair with shaky hands as he crumpled over on top of her, their bodies warm and damp with sweat. Their chests were heaving as they struggled to catch their breath, with Y/N whispering into his hair how good he did and how perfect he’d made her feel.

They stayed curled up for a while, but eventually, the stickiness became too much to ignore. They both stumbled into her bathroom—both for a quick shower and for Y/N to pee to avoid a UTI. After changing the sheets, they returned to her bed, and Y/N turned away to switch off the lamp, leaving them wrapped in the peaceful darkness.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Spencer asked, a shy grin on his face as she turned back to him, snuggling into his embrace as he pulled her closer.

Y/N huffed out a soft, sleepy laugh, nodding against him. “If you want me to be, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Of course I want you to,” Spencer replied, his words followed by a small yawn as sleep started to take hold of him too.

“Looks like it’s official then. I’m your girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend. Now, get some rest, my sweet boy.”

It wasn’t until the following evening, after a full day spent with Y/N on their first official date—a trip to the museum and lunch at his favorite restaurant—that he noticed something tucked into his pocket. A giddy grin spread across Spencer’s face as he unfolded the lacy pink panties, a small note tucked inside that read: For you to take on your next case. ;) xoxo - Y/N.

Spencer glanced down at the fabric in his hands, a soft chuckle escaping him as he silently thanked whatever force had made her the one to fill the vacant apartment across from his.

Continued A/N’s and tag list!! <3: Big big thank you to everyone that enjoyed part one and came back to read part two :’) And thank you to everyone that wanted to be tagged!! If you guys would like for me to start doing an official tag list, please let me know :’) <3 @halfbloodwriter , @opheliahotchner , @mothgrrrl666 , @silver138, @elliet1ou

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