#lean too far back worry flip over

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

front wheel drive scare me

[slut4thebroken]

Tease

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason’s bike gets destroyed and you have to pick him up, but you can’t resist teasing him.

Warnings | Smut, brief dry humping, riding?, public sex, creampie, teasing, motorcycle sex.

Words | 1.3 k

Notes | based on a pic I found lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You finally saw Jason and slowed to a stop right next to him. With a smirk, you flipped up the visor on your helmet and he rolled his eyes. 

“Not in the mood, princess.” He said plainly, stepping closer. “Move.” 

“And let you destroy my bike too? No thanks. You can be the backpack this time.” Your smirk widened at the power you had over him right now. When he didn’t move, you added, “Or you can walk home…?” He scoffed and rolled his eyes again, but reluctantly climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around you. “Good boy.” You said smugly. 

He suddenly reached up to grab the chin of your helmet and forcefully turned you around enough for him to see you. “Quit it.” He hissed, clearly losing his patience. Your smirk remained, but you relented for now. He let you turn back around, then you started driving. Jason didn’t actually explain what he was doing this far away from Gotham, but it was going to take at least 30 minutes for you to get home. 

You waited until you were on a highway, then leaned forward, arching your back and pushing your ass against his crotch. His hands moved to grip your hips, not worried about needing to hold on since you were going to be driving at an even speed for a while. When one hand squeezed your ass over your jeans, you bit your lip, trying not to get too distracted by his hands on your body and the vibration from the bike directly on your clit with the way you were bent over. 

His hands suddenly left you and you frowned, wanting to turn around to see why he let go, but needing to keep your eyes on the road. After a moment, he grabbed your jeans and pulled them away from your body, then sliced the seam with a knife. 

“Jason!” You yelled, even though he definitely couldn’t hear you. He grabbed the torn fabric and ripped it even more, exposing your panties that he also ripped. When you felt the blunt head of his cock on your entrance, you finally understood what was happening. 

He lined up and started pulling you back by your hips, impaling you on his thick cock inch by torturous inch until it was fully sheathed inside you. The stretch burned a little, but any pain was easily ignored by the feeling of him filling you up, and the coil of arousal starting to build in your stomach. 

You let out a shaky breath and he groped your ass roughly, giving you a firm spank before moving his hands up your arched back. Right before he reached your shoulder blades, he snaked them around to grope your breasts, making you whine. It was dark out now and there were barely any people on the road, but the thought of getting caught still made your pussy flutter around his cock. 

After a few seconds, his hands dragged back down, following the path they came up, until he was squeezing your ass again. He suddenly grabbed the waistband of your jeans and used it to pull you backwards and down, then push you away again, slowly guiding your hips. It was incredibly hard to focus on driving while he was fucking you, but he kept the pace slow— You were both grateful and annoyed by that though. 

You finally exited the highway and continued on residential roads. The first time you stopped at a red light, he pulled you upright, then gripped your hips and started moving you up and down. You blushed furiously and tried to bat his hands away, but he was undeterred— At least no one was stopped at the red light with you. When you continued driving, he paused, letting you focus. 

However, the second time, there was a group of people standing on the corner, talking and laughing loudly. Jason was completely unbothered as he lifted your body up and down in a way that would’ve been obvious to anyone. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, not able to handle the embarrassment if you got caught. When he suddenly loosened his grip and you dropped down onto his cock with a startled yelp, your eyes snapped open and you saw that the light had turned green.

Jason tortured you like that the rest of the ride to his place. Even after you arrived and turned off the bike though, he didn’t let you move away. He started bouncing you on his cock again, forcing a startled moan out of you. The way he was using your body like you were nothing more than a fleshlight turned you on more than you thought possible, but the risk of getting caught was still in the back of your mind. 

“Jay…” You whined. Even though you were parked in a somewhat secluded area, you could occasionally see a car drive by on the main road. 

“Take it, tease.” He gruffed, making you whine again. You couldn’t help it when you scrambled to unbutton your jeans and slip your hand inside, frantically rubbing your clit as you neared your orgasm. Based on Jason’s sounds, he wasn’t too far behind.

You had to flip the visor of your helmet up when your panting breaths were starting to make it a little humid and you wished he’d take off his own helmet so you could hear his grunts and moans better. He started moving you faster, pulling you down harder, and your fingers sped up on your clit, desperately chasing your release. 

When you finally fell over the edge, you mewled and reached behind yourself with your free hand to grip his thigh. He grunted softly at the feeling of your pussy clamping down on his cock, feeling his own orgasm approaching. 

After your orgasm faded, your body practically went limp and your fingers slowed to a stop, but Jason continued fucking you on his cock. He was only getting more frantic and rough until he finally slammed you down all the way with a groan, his cock twitching as it spurted out ropes of come, painting your walls white. His grip on your hips was bruising as he ground you back and forth, milking every last drop of pleasure out of himself. 

When he finally relaxed, you both just sat there for a moment, panting heavily. He gently pushed you down with a hand between your shoulder blades, then lifted you off his cock, having a perfect view of your gaping pussy with the way your ass was upturned in this position. His come dribbled out slowly and your walls fluttered weakly, still reeling from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. 

Jason cursed under his breath and dragged two thick fingers up your slit, pushing his come back inside you, making you whine quietly. Once he was satisfied, he got off your bike and helped lift you off, holding you up when your knees wobbled. 

“You ruined my pants.” You pouted. His fingers hooked onto your helmet and jerked your head up to look at him. 

“Then you shouldn’t have been a brat and a tease.” You rolled your eyes and tried to turn away, but he just pulled you closer and bent down into your space. “Keep up the attitude and I’ll give you a proper punishment when we get inside. Is that what you want?” He warned. It was hard to think when you could feel his come leaking down your thighs, but you were still on a little bit of a power trip. 

“Punish me how?” You asked, defiance flashing in your eyes as you looked up at him. 

“Not letting you come, for starters.” You immediately frowned and it didn’t take him long to pick up on your expression. “That’s what I thought.”

[emmyrosee]

You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

[prael]

Nerves

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

I had a bit of a moment just now.

Masterlist word count: 1,356 Kofi(donations/commissions)

Nerves can make or break a person; too little and you can become careless, while too many can cripple you.

"I've done shows before, but I can't help but worry if it'll go well," says Hanni.

"There's little more you can do to prepare now. You know what you need to say and you'll look beautiful while doing it," you reassure.

"I'm still so nervous," she replies.

"You still have twenty minutes until it starts," you tell her. "What could you do in twenty minutes?"

"Oh, I could think of a few things," she answers. She's right, there's time for something.

"You know I'd help with anything you need," you say.

Hanni leans against the wall and thinks for a moment, before looking back at you. "Usually we have a little more time than this."

"For you, I can work fast," you respond.

Hanni bites her lip. "I think I might have an idea, then." She walks towards you and wraps her arms around your neck. "You sure you can? We'll have to skip the foreplay."

You put your hands on her hips. "Whatever it is, I'm game."

She grins at your reply and moves in for a kiss. Her lips press against yours and the two of you quickly get into the familiar rhythm. You pull her body close and her hands find their way under your shirt.

Your hands drift down to her ass and you squeeze it, eliciting a moan from Hanni. She's wearing this wonderful two-piece dress. Dark blue fabrics, it's special, but it's so annoyingly inaccessible. Normally you'd pull up her skirt, flip up her dress and push her against the wall.

"The stylist couldn't be a little more considerate," you jest as you bury your hand through the layered fabric to find the zipper at her hip.

"She's more focused on the fashion, rather than how easily you can reach my cunt," Hanni laughs.

You get the zip open enough to let it fall and bunch at her knees. Underneath, she's wearing this tight black thong that's so thin you can see the lips of her pussy. The material's already damp with her excitement. It slips so far up between her round cheeks that you can't see it.

Hanni pulls you in closer, her hand sliding down the front of your pants. She moans against your mouth as her fingers wrap around your cock. Normally, there's some method to the madness. An exchange of kisses and handiwork, before you take turns falling to your knees. It's a slow and careful process of teasing. You don't have that luxury right now.

You turn her to the desk; her face close to her reflection as you push into her bare lower back and bend her over. She grips the edge and looks at you in the reflection, bearing down on her.

"I've always wanted to fuck you as a blonde," you tell her.

She grins, biting her bottom lip. With her legs pushed together and her dress bunched at her knees, the angle is awkward. She's tight, and the position is only going to make her tighter.

"You're already soaked," you murmur as you push aside her thong and stroke your finger against her folds. She moans as you push your finger into her, her grip on the table's edge tightening.

"Oh, just like that," she sighs.

You start a quick rhythm, her hips grinding against the intrusion. She's so warm and inviting, her juices beginning to coat your finger. She's already worked up, and her cunt is practically dripping.

"Fuck me," she moans.

You're slipping your cock out of your trousers, a quick diversion to put your hand by her mouth for her to spit into it, and then you're wetting your cockhead with it. As quickly as you withdraw your fingers, Hanni's whine-come-gasp is interrupted by you pressing your length into her. You grab her waist, pulling her onto you.

She lets out a cry, her eyes squeezed shut as you stretch her. Her lips part in a sigh of pleasure as she relaxes.

"Don't go easy on me," she pleads.

"Wouldn't dream of it," you assure her.

She gasps and moans, her fingers gripping the table's edge as you plunge deeper. Her juices are slick around you, and her legs press tighter together as you push. You grunt, thrusting your hips. It feels so good to fill her up like this. She's so tight, and her walls are clenching around you. She moans, her fingers digging into the table.

"That's it, baby," she purrs. "Just like that."

You groan, the warmth and the pressure of her cunt squeezing around you. You pull back, just enough, and then plunge deep again. Your hips smack against her ass.

"Yes," she moans, her voice thick with lust.

You repeat the motion, your pace building. You lean forward, putting a hand on the table for support as you thrust into her. She gasps, her head tilted back. You're fucking her harder and faster now, your balls slapping against her thighs. She cries out, her hands gripping the table's edge. Her head rolls forward, only for you to take a handful of her golden hair and pull it back. You have to see the look on her face as she cums.

You lean forward, pushing her into the desk. Her breasts are squashed under her dress against the table's top, but it doesn't seem to bother her. She's moaning, her hips meeting your thrusts as you're pounding her cunt, and the sound of skin slapping fills the room. She's crying out, as her eyes roll back. You know that look.

You can feel her muscles twitch and flutter, as she cums, her orgasm washing over her. She's sobbing in pleasure, her cunt squeezing tight around you. You hold yourself inside her, not wanting to give up the feeling yet and just letting her cum around your cock.

She's panting. She's trembling. You're standing up straight and looking down at that bare ass. Thick and firm, you could bounce a coin off of it. Instead, you bounce your palm. A quick slap. She yelps in surprise and looks at you through her reflection.

"Oh," she pants, her eyes glazed over with desire.

Another slap, the other cheek this time. The sound echoes in the room. Hanni squeals, her eyes fluttering. She bites her lip, and you see her shift her weight from one foot to the other.

You grin. "Oh, do you like that?"

She nods, her breath catching in her throat. You give her another slap, and then another. You watch the jiggle and bounce, the way her cheeks turn red under your palm. You're fucking her, slapping her ass, and she's moaning, whimpering, screaming your name. She's begging for it.

She's cumming again. Her whole body tenses, her back arching, her head rolling back. She's shaking, and she's sobbing.

"Fucking hell, Hanni," you grunt.

You're close—so close. You're holding off as best as you can. Her body is so perfect. The curve of her back, the swell of her hips. Her ass is a wonder. Your hands dig into her soft flesh, and you feel her clench around your cock.

"Do it," she gasps, her eyes locking with yours. "Cum inside me."

You moan, leaning forward and pressing her into the desk. You're fucking her harder and faster, chasing your release. Your cock is throbbing inside her, and you're going to explode. You can't hold it any longer.

You cry out, your body shuddering as you cum inside her. Her pussy is pulsing around you, her cunt squeezing tight. You're spilling inside her, filling her up with your seed. She's crying out, her body shaking, and you feel her clench tight.

Your legs are shaking, and you're holding yourself up on the table. You're breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. Hanni is panting, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed.

"Now how do you feel?" You ask.

"Like I could host a show," she answers, then laughs.

"Then let's get you out there," you say as you pull her thong back into place.

[ssahotchnerr]

how about hotch fluff with reader who's love language is acts of services?

a bit longer

oh to spoil and love on aaron 🥰 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

You'd do anything to make Aaron's life easier.

He worked tremendously hard, took on a lot - things, scenarios beyond your own comprehension, and still came home as the loving, extraordinary man he was, both as a partner and a father.

You wanted to help in any way you could. Even if that meant setting an alarm for far too early.

He's told you before, and it wasn't surprising either, he would wake up early while on a case, to iron his suit jacket as needed. And while it made perfect sense, you weren't afraid to admit it tugged at your heartstrings in a melancholy, endearing way.

Last night, Aaron had gotten home much later than he would have liked, missed seeing Jack altogether, as he was already asleep. He ate a quick dinner, and climbed into bed with you.

As a result, he hadn't been in the best mood going to sleep, especially considering he had to wake up early to iron the one suit he had at home - he defeatedly expressed as he got comfortable. The rest were at the cleaners, which was closed by the time he left the office. He even uttered the consideration of using the spare jacket he left at the office.

Aaron didn't get enough sleep to begin with. And unbeknownst to him, after he quickly drifted off, you sneakily shut off his alarm and turned yours on.

Six in the morning came fast. The second the tone rang, you shut it off, hoping it hadn't managed to awake Aaron. You laid there silently for a moment or two, just to ensure he hadn't stirred. He was either the world's heaviest sleeper, or the lightest, depending on the day.

When you were confident he hadn't, you slipped out of bed. Slowly. Lifting the arm slung over your waist and setting it gently aside, peeling back the blanket, or Aaron didn't subconsciously feel your weight leaving the comfort of bed. You exited the bedroom just as leisurely - heading towards the laundry room and hoping you didn't stub your toe in the dark hallway in the process.

His suit was already hung and waiting, right where he left it the night before. After blinking several times to adjust to the light, you clicked the iron on, yawning as you waited for it to warm up.

You turned his suit jacket inside out, preventing any potential damage to the material. In addition, you triple checked the heat setting, making sure it was the proper one. You started with the back: laying it flat on the board and gliding it along the surface in a steady motion.

The floor creaked behind you. Glancing behind your shoulder, you saw Aaron leaning against the doorframe, rubbing his eye.

"What're you doing up?" He asked, raspy.

You ignored his question, offering a gentle, lazy smile in return. "Go back to sleep."

His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as he observed you. He was thoroughly - and adorably - more confused due to his sleep induced haze. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. So go back to sleep." You insisted softly, resuming your task. But contrary to your words, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. It was all too easy to lean back into Aaron's embrace.

"Ironing my suit?" His voice was closer now, at level with your ear. The proximity enhanced his sexy, deep morning voice. "What time is it?"

"That's not important." You teased with a shrug, flipping his jacket to tackle the front next. Your following few words left you nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal. And it wasn't. "I changed yours, and set mine."

He blinked, still waking up and still trying to comprehend what was happening. "Why?"

"So you could get more sleep."

His hold on you loosened slightly, pleasantly surprised. "You didn't need to do that."

"I know." You simply put it, pressing down on the jacket's lapels. "I wanted to."

"I could've-"

"Honey, you don't get nearly enough sleep as it is. If me doing this," you shook the iron lightly for emphasis, "means you get an extra thirty minutes, I want you to get those thirty extra minutes. And besides, I wanna help. You come home stressed and your job is demanding and I want to make things easier on you. You do a lot for others, for me, and I want to repay the favor."

You hadn't meant to go off on a tangent, but it was true. You only wished you could give him the whole world (But if someone asked Aaron, you already had).

"Watch where you wave that thing." Aaron quipped, his tone a humorous deadpan. A smile tugged at the ends of his lips, his arms retightening around you, squeezing you lovingly. "You're sweet."

You blushed at the simple compliment, "And you work too hard."

"Then it's a good thing I have you to slow me down." He kissed your temple, and you could just feel the love radiating off him, he didn't need to verbally say it. "Thank you sweetheart. Seriously."

"You're welcome, now will you please go back to bed? Or do I need to threaten you with the iron again?"

Aaron laughed, a hand squeezing your hip affectionately. "Only if you join me. I could care less if my suit has one more, minor wrinkle if it means I get to lay with you a bit longer."

[fluffylino]

worried!minho

minho wants to take away all your pain~

-contains mature themes

when were the cramps going to go. it was your second day of having your period. you had leaked through your pad and stained your clothes. now, you sat on the bed, swaddled up in a bedsheet while a random anime was playing on tv.

you were far too distracted to even pay attention to the dialogues. another sharp pain to your lower stomach. you huffed, wrapping your arms around your stomach. you curled up into a ball, adjusting your pad which had moved out of place.

minho's footsteps could be heard. he was busily moving about. from the kitchen, to the living room and then to check on you.

"how are you feeling, baby?" you jumped at the sudden appearance. he was standing beside you, looking at your bundled up figure with soft eyes. you let out a whine, lightly kicking your legs. you could hear his quiet laugh.

"mm' hurts" you mumbled, reaching your hand out. he took it, sitting close to you. he brushed your hair out of your face and leaned over you to take the remote. switching off the tv.

"still?" he seemed worried.

the thing was, it was rare for you to get cramps. you hardly ever got cramps that made you stay in one spot. on any other period you'd only feel a slight discomfort in your stomach. but today was different. you weren't used to it. and minho wasn't used to seeing you in such pain.

you looked at him through the bedsheets, only your eyes and mouth visible. his smile grew and he couldn't help but pat your head like you were one of his cats. which to him you were.

"i gave you a heating pad..we did some muscle relieving exercises and drank lots of water..what else could possibly work?" minho furrowed his eyebrows, his lips jutting out as he blinked. and blinked. and blinked-

"you know there is something that definitely works for sure. i was reading that orgasms help"

your eyes widened and then you slowly sighed.

well, that was true. but sex on your period would just end up looking like a crime scene. it made you feel confused. because yes, all the raging hormones were constantly at battle with your mind.

"but its icky and you'd probably find it...not so nice"

minho looked at you. "what makes you say i wouldn't like it?"

you were taken aback. did he really not mind?

"i don't think i want to do the...whole thing" you mumbled, shyly.

"so then should i try eating yo-" you screamed, pushing the bedsheet over him. shivering at how cold the room actually was.

"no no no" you chanted. that was not something you'd ever want to put him through, for the sake of your pleasure. you were aware of him. he didn't care about blood at all. in fact he was so chill about it. like the time you accidently stained his pants when you fell asleep on him.

he even washed out the sheets.

he ruffled around, throwing it on the ground. he scooted closer.

"should i finger you then, hm? that shouldn't be so bad, would it?" you nodded slowly.

"but what if i make a mess..again"

"i'll put a towel underneath"

"what if you get blood all over your fingers..."

"baby if i did mind it, i wouldn't have been so eager to suggest it"

he smiled. minho was ever so patient. always answering you with a reassuring statement whenever you fell down a spiral of unecessary thoughts.

"can you use gloves...?" you asked so softly, you had to repeat it for him to hear.

"whatever you want, baby. i recently just bought a whole new pack of gloves for when im marinating meat"

you smiled nervously.

"guess ill be using them to touch some other kind of meat" you pushed him off the bed. he gave you a sarcastic smile. your stomach doing flips at his expression.

.

you stood up, freezing when you felt a blood clot come out. there was no way you could do this. you finally decided on washing your lower body. so you did, carefully stepping out of the bathroom.

"take your pants off.." minho had come back, this time pulling the gloves up and over his wrists.

oh, so they were like the surgical gloves. the ones that fitted well...a little two well. his hands looked nice. they looked very nice in fact-

"what? you don't want the gloves? i don't mind" your eyes met his and doubt filled him. if only he knew what you were actually thinking about.

"i want it"

he had laid the towel down and you sat on it. you pulled your oversized shirt down, trying the cover up.

minho walked towards you, opting to sit behind you. his back resting against the headboard and your back to his chest. you felt a little exposed. he was fully clothed while all you wore was a t shirt.

you could feel his breath on your ear. minho's left hand rubbed on your stomach while his right hand slid between your legs.

he let out a surprised laugh. you knew you were wet. he could feel it. after seeing his hands in those latex gloves, you couldn't fight it.

"be a good kitty and open up for me"

you mewled at the nickname. lifting your knees up while he kept your legs open for him. he pushed a finger inside before slowly adding a second digit.

at this point you weren't sure if it was blood or slick or maybe both that leaked out onto his fingers.

"sorry" you apologized, you didn't even know why you were saying sorry. the pain in your stomach was the last the thing you were worried about.

"talk t-to me" you whispered, leaning into him. he lazily grazed his thumb over your clit while his digits pumped inside of you. with just enough pressure to not be too much for you.

"its okay, baby...you're doing so great, let me see how well you take my fingers" you moaned, as he pressed his palm against your heat. the latex feeling unusually nice. on your skin. and especially inside you.

"n-nice hands"

"yeah? you think my hands are nice? what do you like about my hands hm?"

he asked. he wasn't teasing you. he wasn't even joking about it. in fact he seemed to be curious. he wanted to feed into you.

"v-veiny..pretty and big...feels amazing inside of me" you answered back, bucking your hips when he added a third digit.

"you sure you aren't talking about my dick, kitten?"

"that even" you blabbered. letting him hook his chin on your shoulder. his breath hitched when you traced the veins on his forearms. they were so prominent. you wanted to lick them.

"that good, hm? who knew you'd be so attracted to my arms"

another warm sensation between your legs. his gloved fingers gliding in much smoother. you wanted to cringe at the sqelch it made every time he pushed in.

"you know, you have such a pretty little pussy, kitten?"

you blushed, trying to hide away from his comments. he nuzzled against your neck.

"i can't resist when it comes to you. i want to give you everything that i can"

willingly you parted your mouth, taking his other fingers in. he pressed down on your tongue. you sucked on them.

"you'll take anything i give you, won't you because you're my obedient princess"

[lumiambrose]

✰ the winning hand

kinktober 24 - day twelve

featuring: aventurine x f!reader

summary: you were taken by surprise when the aventurine of the ten stonehearts requests a private match from you. although, a gamble with him requires high stakes, and even higher rewards.

tags: smut, gambling, praise, degredation (if you reaaally squint), p in v, cunnilingus, use of sex toys, public sex, petnames (sweet girl, pretty, doll), not proofread (i drank too much last night mb fam)

wc: 2.2k

“so the winner of this next round takes all?” you clarify, unsure if the man in front of you has gone insane.

“spot on, pretty. if you win, i’ll be your loyal servant for the rest of the night. although if i win… you’ll be mine.” yeah. he’s lost it.

you’re currently in a private sector for the eclipse’s executives. it’s slightly elevated from the rest of the floor, almost like a private balcony with a gorgeous view of the grand casino. how you ended up here? you don’t even know. you were sipping on a sweet cocktail when aventurine, one of the ten stonehearts, requested a game from you. his assistant didn’t give you time to react as he led you away from the central casino and toward a far more private, lavish, hall.

ever the gentleman he is, aventurine picked you up there and stole you away to the balcony you now find yourself at. seeing as it was too late to decline, you figured you should get the most out of this experience as he explained the rules to you.

a standard game of poker shouldn’t be too hard, right? is what you tell yourself, despite struggling immensely against the man in front of you. you’ve only won… twice? out of the many rounds you’ve played and you’re getting worried, you can’t keep losing like this. almost on cue, aventurine suggests one final round to decide the winner, which is how you’ve ended up in your current predicament.

you eye the cards in your hand, desperately trying to keep your expression neutral. aventurine lounges across from you, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, his other hand casually toying with his chips. he’s confident. too confident.

“ready, pretty?” he’s teasing you at this point. the dealer, not making a sound, reshuffles the cards before sliding them your way. you glance at your hand and immediately regret your decision, but you don’t lose hope just yet.

the dealer reveals the first three cards on the table: jack of diamonds, queen of clubs, seven of spades. your stomach drops. aventurine smirks. it’s over.

with a hand like this, you shouldn’t even bet, but you go all in anyway, hoping the bluff works. of course, it doesn’t. he meets your bet, then raises.

the final card flips. king of hearts.

aventurine reveals his hand—ace and ten.

a straight.

you blink, stunned. aventurine leans forward, that damn smirk widening, “looks like you’re mine now.”

this was it, your fate had been sealed. only god knows what this man has planned for you. you let out a long sigh, accepting your defeat before locking eyes with him, waiting for his orders.

with a quick snap of his fingers, the dealer leaves the room, disappearing through the door without a word. “stand up,” you oblige, adjusting your short dress and hair as you rise from your chair, facing him. he does a one-over on your body, taking in every inch and curve, staring like a starved man.

the room suddenly feels much smaller as you’re left in aventurine’s company. he’s still lounging on the sofa before you, but this time, a more terrifying aura radiates from him. 

his next command is simple. with a predatory smile and commanding tone, he orders, “your panties, take them off.”

for a second, you thought you didn’t hear him right. you hesitate for a moment, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. slowly, you reach through your skirt, your hands trembling slightly as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and push them down.

he holds out his hands, glancing at the panties before his gaze shifts back to you. you hand them to him as a blush creeps up your cheeks. his hand grazes yours as he takes them from you, stuffing them into his pocket with a victorious smile playing on his lips.

“oh, one more thing,” he reaches over to a small box resting on the table, opening it and taking out a small vibrator. “you’re a smart girl so i’m sure you understand what i’m getting at. if you manage a few games without cumming, i might even reward you,” he coos. “you like the sound of that, doll?”

even if you wanted to refuse, you know you couldn’t. begrudgingly, you put the vibrator in your, now naked, pussy, letting out a soft sigh as it enters you. as much as you should be disgusted right now, you’re filled with nothing but adrenaline facing the man in front of you. the fear that you once had now slowly turning into excitement.

he sets up the next round of poker, shuffling a new deck of cards and sliding some your way. “no need to bet with chips anymore, if you manage to win as much as one game, i’ll make sure you’re cumming on me tonight.” his voice suddenly shifts into a darker tone “although, if you fail… we’ll keep up this little game of ours until you're begging on your knees for me.”

the hums of the vibrator fill the room as he turns it on from the small remote in his hand. any fear you should’ve felt from his threat going straight to your core, letting out a small moan at the danger.

the next few hours we’re nothing but agonising pain. you played his cruel game, as he abused the power he had over you, making you crumble for him. you were close? too damn bad, he turned the vibrator off, leaving you whimpering in agony. you tried bluffing? he saw right through it and set the vibrator to pulse inside of you, only switching it back to normal once you confessed your lie. sometimes you’d even be so distracted by the sweet pleasure between your thighs that your hand would accidentally slip, giving aventurine a complete view of your cards. but lady luck was on your side today as somehow, somehow, you beat him. maybe he let you and you didn’t notice as you were too distracted by the vibrating pleasure or perhaps you just got lucky. either way, you celebrated your victory, excited for what came ahead.

“congratulations, sweetheart,” he leaves the sofa for the first time tonight, slowly approaching you. “i’m a man of my word,” he kneels in front of you, pushing your legs apart. “i won’t stop until you’re cumming all over my tongue.”

without any further warning, he removes the vibrator, leaving you empty, only to replace it with his tongue.

he eats you out like it’s his last day alive. sucking, biting and slurping on your pussy. “so good,” he muffles, “you taste so fucking good.”

he continues to lap your folds, stuffing your cunt with his tongue and sometimes nibbling on your clit. he’s so shameless too, not attempting to hide any noises he makes while drinking you up. the longer he eats you out, the more dissolved his words get. filthy encouragements and teasing praises slowly turning into incoherent babbles, growling against your cunt. each vibration going straight toward your impending orgasm.

“you close, pretty? can feel you shaking around my tongue,” he says with one last lick on your folds before you come undone all over his face. your orgasm hits you like a wave, your juices crashing down on aventurine’s mouth.

he pulls back, slowly rising from his knees. “fuck– you taste divine,” he licks any excess juices from his face, “could eat this pretty pussy every day.” he grabs your hand, pulling you up from your chair and bringing you to the sofa he was once lounging on, “but that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?” he bends you over with your back to the casino table, giving you a perfect view of the central casino.

“try not to attract too much attention, sweet girl.” with that, he hikes up your tiny dress and enters you in one slow, painful thrust. you moan at the sensation, definitely attracting a few curious eyes from below, but you’re in to deep to care anymore. he lets out a sigh of relief as he bottoms out, feeling your tight cunt already squeezing him.

“hah– so tight f’me,” he started to rock into you at a slow pace, taking his sweet time destroying you. as much as he desperately wanted to give into his primal urges, rutting into like there’s no tomorrow, he wanted to keep his promise. he wanted you to completely come apart on his dick, turning you into his little fucked-out doll. his one hand rest on your hip, keeping him steady as he moves inside you while the other snakes its way down to your clit, teasing your overstimulated bud.

the pleasure is overwhelming, leading you closer to your orgasm by the second, moaning out praises for the blonde behind you. “aah~ so good– i’m so close!” you can barely get the words out, but once you do, he can’t hold back anymore. “gonna make a mess on my dick, pretty?” he speeds up, thrusting at a faster pace, fingers working harder too.

“you close, doll?” he vibrates against your ear, “that’s my good girl… go on, cum on my dick, make a mess for me.” 

that was all it took to push you over the edge, you clenched him tightly as your second orgasm hit you. moaning out his name as you gripped the balcony railing, letting yourself come undone for him. it didn’t take him long until he was also reaching his high, swiftly pulling out and releasing his cum all over your ass and back, staining your dress.

after he releases his grasp on you, you collapse on the sofa, breathless and still sensitive from the little game you both played. he takes his place next to you, moving your legs to rest on his lap. “looks like your dress is stained,” he traces a line down your leg. “give me your number. i’ll arrange a replacement.”

after exchanging numbers, you clean yourself up as much as possible before heading to the exit.

“oh, and sweetheart,” he calls out to you before you can leave. “call me when you want your rematch.”

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite (part two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny slid into the taxi and closed the door, not even a second later did the man merge into traffic. Sneaking a glance at the driver, who somehow looked even worse than Danny did when he hadn't slept in four days, Danny slowly peeled off the sticky note from the seat.

glancing down, he found Clockwork's familiar handwriting. (which he would like to add, shouldn't be as familiar as it is, but then again, he shouldn't be having tea time with him either.)

Do what you think is right, only then does your future look bright.

well, alright then. does that mean Danny should jump out the moving car? because he didn't think walking into some poor rich dude's house and forcing his company on the family was the right thing to do. He thought it was the most convenient at the moment, sure, but not the right one.

flipping the note over, Danny found more writing;

Do not jump out of the car, you've already come this far. Patience will be a virtue. This is worth the persue. Do not worry, there is no hurry.

"what the hell, Clockwork?" Danny quietly hissed, glaring off to the side and out the window. "You become friends with Ghostwriter or something? and what do you mean don't worry? I'm literally running from the government. if nothing else, that's probably the one thing I need to worry about."

Another sticky note poped up, this time stuck to the back of the driver's seat. Glancing up, Danny waited a second for the driver to be distracted before reaching out and snatching the note.

the only thing on it was a very shitty smily face.

what the fuck.

"this isn't funny, clocky!" Danny hissed again, glancing up to make sure the driver hadn't heard him. "mom and dad literally have my ecto signature, they only need a single hint of which direction to go before it becomes all too easy to find me again."

closing his eyes, Danny took a deep breath.

holding it for a second, then exhaling. Alright. Fine, if Clockwork isn't worried or against this, then there's no reason not to do this. (well besides the obvious one; it's rude to walk into someone's house uninvited and whatnot.)

"fine, but I'm only staying long enough to snag some food and then I'm gone, got it?" Danny grumbled, glaring at his reflection in the window. he didn't receive another note, so he leaned back and watched as the city passed. Slowly buildings spread out, and green lawns turned into green fields.

staring down at the smiley face, Danny shook his head, carefully he pulled out his phone and removed the case. shoving the sticky note inside, Danny put the case back on and put his phone in his pocket. it was dead, so he couldn't do anything else with it so might as well make it useful. who knows when Danny might need that little bit of ectoplasm.

A few minutes later, the taxi slowed to a stop next to a black gate and rolled down the window. "taxi 'ere, Mr. Wayne already paid me."

"I see," a strongly British voice echoed from the box, "come in." The gate beeped a second later and swung open, allowing the taxi to drive through. Danny glanced around the front 'yard' as they approached the looming building. Nicely trimmed green grass fields as far as the eyes could see, trees lining where Danny had to assume were the property lines.

somehow it was completely different from Vlad's front yard, yet still, Danny could only describe them as the same. Green, full of flowers and sculpted bushes and outlandishly garish paveways for their rich front doors. If Danny squinted he could swear there were butterflies happily fluttering around the sides of the building.

and Danny uses the word building here because that was not a house.

No, no. That building wasn't even a mansion like Sam's house. nor was it a castle, like Vlad's. It was an old building of amalgamated eras and themes. Danny was so annoyed his phone was dead right now, Sam would have lost her mind if she could see what he was. Are those eighteenth-century dormers right next to a twentieth-century skylight???

you know what? Mr. Wayne deserves to have all of his food eaten right in front of him. Who in their right mind would allow their home to look like that? And in the twenty-first century no less!

The taxi pulled to a stop; and Danny, lost in his Sam-induced horror, automatically pushed the car door open, stumbled his way out, closed the door, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs to stare up at the roof.

Taxi man sniffed and then drove off, his jaw cracking yawn echoing in the back of Danny's mind.

"Master Tim?" the British voice from earlier echoed out from the now-opened door. Danny's gaze dropped from the roof and down to the older man now walking toward him. the man hadn't looked up from his newspaper, still reading a paragraph as he stopped in front of Danny.

blinking, Danny glanced down at the paper. he might as well see what had the man's attention so thoroughly. Another article about Damian Wayne and the schoolyard incident.

Danny snorted, he remembered reading about that one. Someone had thrown away their copy and Danny had been bored. let's just say Danny was thoroughly entertained. he even had thoughts about how the kid had managed to sneak in a small dagger with how tight the school's security claimed to be.

"it had to be his belt, I just know it," Danny whispered, leaning a little more to try and see what the new article revealed.

"yes, yes. young master Damian snuck his dagger to school, no need for you to tell me how for the seventh time. Now, then." the butler, folded the paper and put it in his back pocket, and then, again without looking, gently grabbed Danny's arm and guided him toward the door.

"master bruce has been worried about your lack of sleep, you will go to your room and take a nap or you will not be allowed to share in your siblings' desert at diner tonight." the British man sternly continued, closing the front door behind them.

Danny blinked at him, then at the large foyer in front of them. he was so glad Vlad hadn't splurged on aesthetics like this family obviously had. Was that a crystal chandelier?

The British man, Danny was going to call him Gramps now, guided Danny to the stairs and then promptly let him go so he could rush off to find the source of a loud crash, but not without telling Danny (master Tim) to get some rest.

Glancing up at the grand stairs (covered in an obscene amount of glitter) and finding a large golden framed painting of the ocean with a for sale sign next to it, Danny made up his mind.

Mr. Wayne was a multi-billionaire, who allowed his ancient family home to be butchered. If he wasn't going to respect his home when Danny didn't even have one anymore?

Then Danny was going to honor Sam; The person who had dragged him into this hellish life of interior and exterior design (as well as the half'a life coincidently). And how was he going to do this, you ask? well what else, then do the very thing she's dedicated her time to?

Eating the rich.

Or in this case; their food.

and well, what was a ghost supposed to do when welcomed into an ancient home with ungrateful residences? Not haunt them?

[bettysupremacy]

Hi lovie!!! I love ur fics! I would love to see a Remus fic with an inexperienced gf! Not smut but like the convo before it like May be she's super anxious bc she's worried she won't make Remus feel good or like what if Remus hates the way she looks?? And Remus is reassuring her

thankkk youu for the request he’s so cute, 17+ just cause it’s a lil suggestive yanno

When Remus had asked you to stay the night through bleary eyes after the movie had ended, you hadn’t had the strength to say no. When he leaned in to kiss you, his knee nestled between your thighs, you knew you made the right decision.

His kisses were soft and breathless, growing more intense as you moved beneath him. He was warm and broad, hard to quit.

His hand grazes your thigh now, though you know better than to think of it as intention. He pulls up, trailing wet kisses down your cheek and neck. You gasp, tugging on his brown hair.

“I’ve never..”

He buries in your neck. He smells like warm vanilla and books. Maybe cedar. You dunno, you’re not a chemist.

“Been touched?” He asks innocently. His tone almost makes you smile.

His lips are pink and swollen from his attack on you. You swipe at the corner softly and he turns his head to kiss the pad of your thumb. He’s sweet, and his smile afterwards is stupid. He’s awful.

“Yeah.” You murmur, looking down at where his hand falls flat over your sock. Your knee had been hiked up in the frenzy. His hand roams up from your sock to hold your knee.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything till you’re ready.”

You nod, looking him in the eyes. His are soft and round. “But what if you don’t.. like it?”

“That’s very vague,” he smiles at you a little. “like what?”

“Me,” you’re almost silent. “Or like.. when we’re doing.. it..”

He wants to laugh but he doesn’t want to upset you. “I wouldn’t care about that either.”

“My body?”

He shakes his head adamantly. “Do you know what I look like?”

He eyes his scars. They run over his body, weaving through each other at times. You don’t care about them, don’t let your eyes wonder. You found yourself doing it at times when you first met him, almost immediately looking away guilty. You weren’t judgmental of the puffy lines that run through him, just curious.

“I’ve never cared about that.” Your eyebrows furrow.

“Exactly,” he pushes some hair away from your eyes. “Why would I?”

You nod, breathing out. He’s right and you know it. He wouldn’t shy away from the meat of your tummy or the happy trail under your belly button. Wouldn’t gawp at your thighs or the swell of your breasts.

Well, maybe he would, but for different reasons.

“I want to do that.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Right now?”

“Um,” you murmur, eyes falling away from him.

“That’s okay too.”

He’s very genuine, grasping your jaw in his hand. He just wants to look at you. That’s it. Your eyes and your nose, your cheeks and your lips. They’re as pink as his, also puffy, slightly swollen. He smiles at the sight, dipping to drop his forehead against yours. He exhales softly, nudging the bridge of his nose against yours. It’s a quiet moment before you speak.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

You nod, shying away from his eyes again, leaning up toward him.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs, mouth dangerously close to yours to be asking that question. Yet, you know if you said no he’d move away.

“Mhm.”

He dips back down, softer than before. You don’t know what to do with your hands, reaching up to hold his cheeks softly. You can feel the skin of his face move into a smile.

“Can I..” he starts slowly, dropping down for a slow kiss before continuing. “Do this?”

He reaches his broad hand to the hem of your shirt, nudging it up a little. Your tummy flips as he looks back up for confirmation. You nod, and he pushes his hand under, not roaming too far. He holds himself accountable, stopping right under the band of your bra. His hips lower too. You can feel him against you as he holds you closer, kissing deeper.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs, if not to himself, to you. “I’ll be gentle.”

[mywritersmind]

THREE DAYS. TWO CONFESSIONS. - KA12

summary : A pair of flirty teens with rich parents and talent running through their blood. In three days of running into eachother in black and red, the pair seem to come to the conclusion that maybe their jokes aren’t too far off from the truth.

listen up : suggestive jokes. dual pov!! mutual pining! banter! kimixbearman!reader. idk apparently i have a thing for wrong kimi x photographers

word count : 3740

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m staring at him.

He’s talking to an engineer from Mercedes, leaning against a table with his arms braced against it. Fuck his arms. Tan and veiny, gripping the table.

His curls bounce as he nods, his jaw moving as his words meet the open air. I bring my camera up to my face, peering through and snapping one shot. One for myself.

One of him.

Kimi turns his head when I take the photo, the confused look on his face changing, the corner of his lip quirking upwards.

He excuses himself, walking over to me while slipping his hands into his pockets, “Antonelli.” I nod.

“Bella.” He says it as if it’s any other word, yet the weight of it hangs above me like a knife.

He’s called me ‘Bella’ ever since I caught him talking to his friend in italian two years ago. He was explaining who was in the group photo we took at Prema and he said, “The pretty one to the left is Y/n.”

In the moment, my heart did a funny flip, but I played it off and am now stuck with him calling me ‘Pretty’ in his favorite romantic language.

“Saw your face when Lewis radioed.” I fake a frown, “Don't want the car anymore?”

He stays calm and collected, his accent hitting me once again, “It’s like you don’t want to see me every weekend next year.” He frowns, “I know you better than that.”

I cross my arms, looking up at him, “Do you?”

“If I wasn’t there, who would you bully?”

A small smile breaks my cool exterior, “True. My brother isn’t as easy as you.”

He bites his lip, shaking his head, “Ollie is a project for both of us to bug.”

⋆༺

I’m in the Ferrari garage for the majority of the day, practice going smoothly and my day getting increasingly boring.

I end up walking over to Ollie as he gets out of his car, “My speedy brother!” I smile as he pulls his helmet off, the same grin he has everytime he gets out of a car.

“My snappy sister.” He greets me as I raise a brow. “Oh! Later today I'm going over to Kimi’s room so I can’t get dinner with you…” I frown, “Sorry! Guys night. Jack too.”

I cross my arms, “How are the three of you already pissing me off and your season hasn’t started yet?” Ollie just laughs and shrugs, leaving me in the pitlane.

I continue my walk, taking some more photos even though I'm technically supposed to focus on Ferrari pics. I see Kimi in the Mercedes garage, talking animatedly with Lewis.

I pull myself away because too many times I’ve gotten caught looking at him.

I continue my walk to see Jack Doohan standing alone, “Jack!” I smile as I approach him.

He grins a toothy smile, “Y/n! Long time no see!”

“Shit, yeah! How’ve you been?”

“Great! This weather is worrying me though.” I look up to the blue skies, frowning, “I have a feeling.” Jack and his ‘feelings’ are well known in the paddock.

“Well, if it does rain i’m calling for a singing in the rain moment!”

“I’m thinking more of Tom Holland and an umbrella.” I let out a loud laugh, reaching out to touch his arm.

“I’m so in! I can definitely find a black wig and leather.” He shakes his head, his gaze flicking past me.

I turn instinctively. Kimi is looking at us, his face blank but soon turns into a soft smile and a wave. Jack waves back but Kimi doesn’t look at me, just walks back into the garage.

I make a face, turning back to Jack, “Weird.” He laughs out loud, staring down at me, “What?”

Jack just shakes his head, “I’ll see you later, Y/n.”

⋆༺

KIMI

The guys somehow found three old gaming controllers and hooked them up to the TV. Ollie and Jack are screaming at each other as I grab the ice bucket, “Hey! Grab me a candy bar?”

“Oh! And some crisps!” Jack cuts in. Rolling my eyes, I grab some cash and slip out the door.

As I walk down the hallway, I’m humming a stupid one direction song that Ollie got stuck in my head. The hotel is nice and I pause when I walk past the window.

Brazil stares back at me, the darkness isolating the few lights that are still on. I pull myself away from the view and continue humming and walking to the ice machine.

I stop my noise as soon as I turn the corner, seeing a girl standing with her back facing me, and her foot repeatedly hitting the vending machine.

She’s in pink low waisted flared sweats, and what looks like a formerly oversized shirt, cut into a crop and off the shoulder top.

“Fuck!” She yells again, this time placing her hands on the machine.

“Y/n?” I don’t mean to scare her, but she jumps. “Sorry. You need help?”

She looks hopelessly between me and the machine, crossing her arms over her bare skin, “Yes. This stupid thing ate my money!”

I can’t help but smile at her anger, her face is red and her hair looks like she’s shoved her hands through it a million times.

I quietly nod, peering into the box and seeing the stuck candy. I put my money in, buying a packet of strawberry cookies that do exactly what I hoped.

When the pack falls, it knocks her candy right out. “My savior.” She jokes before bending down and reaching into it. My gaze flicks down to her ass, the curve of her waist and her skin on display.

When she stands, I finally see her candy. It’s a chocolate bar with some sort of nuts and she looks ecstatic to finally have it in her grasp.

“Thank you!” She hands over my cookies that I hope Ollie will eat, “How’s the boys night going? They put you on errand duties?” She laughs a bit, a sound I wish I could bottle.

I scratch the back of my neck, “Yeah… What are you up to tonight?”

She shrugs, “Movies, going through pictures, snacks, crying. The usual?”

I let out a breathy laugh, “Why are you crying?”

“I miss my cat.”

“Mmm, peppermint.” I swear she almost starts crying right there. But she takes a breath, “You alone?”

It’s like a switch flips and she’s suddenly looking up at me like I'm more than some kid from karting. She bats her eyelashes, “I don’t have to be. Ditch the guys, I'm watching the princess bride.” I frown, I do love that movie.

“As appealing as that sounds… I think your brother would have an issue with that.” Her lips quirk into a slow smirk. God I love her lips.

“Tell them you got lost. Or kidnapped!” she steps a bit closer, “You really gonna turn down my invite?”

Fuck. Actually fuck. Fuck Ollie for having such a hot sister and fuck her for being so damn convincing. “You’re making it really hard for me.”

She doesn’t miss a fucking beat, raising a brow innocently, “Making more than one thing hard?”

I bite my lip, shaking my head, “You’re funny.”

She doesn’t break eye contact, “I aim to please.”

“You’re gonna get me in trouble, Bella.” I see her flirty facade break when I call her that. She likes it and I like that I can make her blush like that.

She flips her hair over her shoulder, “There’s this thing called self control.

I run my tongue over my teeth, “Trust me. I know a thing or two about it.” She looks satisfied at my answer, “Is this gonna come back to haunt me?”

She blinks innocently, backing up, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

I groan, watching her sinister smirk as she leaves, “Bearman…”

She mocks me, laughing, “Antonelli.” I want her to say my name a million times in a million different ways.

I nod slowly, “Have fun crying!”

“Have fun thinking about me!” She blows a kiss before disappearing around the corner. I want to chase after her and keep our conversation going forever.

Instead, I buy a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar. Walking back to my room, all I can wonder is why the universe continues to test me with my best friend's bloody sister.

⋆༺

YOU

I bounce around the paddock, RAYE in my headphones and my camera in hand. The sprint is over and after some dramatics, the rain started.

I texted Jack as soon as I saw the dark cloud, letting him know he’d be good as a prophet.

I run into Franco, he looks tired but happy to see me, “Fran!” He hasn’t been here for long, but his first day was when we met and hit it off instantly. He’s like another brother to me.

“I’m hiding from the media.” He whispers, “Anything interesting happen to you recently?” My mind immediately goes to Kimi and last night. Something about him just makes me need to mess with him.

But maybe it’s not all for fun, maybe it’s a bit of truth mixed with flirting.

“Uh oh…” Franco points at me, “You've got that look in your eye.”

I scoff, playing it off, “What look?”

“That look like something interesting did happen to you. Spill!” I’m about to say something but a figure appears next to us, clapping his hand with Franco and smiling at me.

“Norris!” I thank god for the distraction.

“What’s up?” He’s in all papaya orange, a water bottle in hand.

Franco smirks, “Y/n here was just about to tell me about her interesting life!” He crosses his arms, “Go ahead.”

“Oh?” Lando turns to me as well, standing next to Franco. I suddenly feel very ganged up on.

“I’m not telling you two anything! You’re both too nosy.”

“Can’t help but be curious. Especially about you.” Franco’s relaxed manner makes my lips crack, smiling a bit. “So tell us, who’s the boy?”

“You’re not my brother- you don’t get to ask that.”

“You tell Ollie about your boy troubles?” Lando asks.

“He’s my twin, it’s in the rule book. At least everything he won’t gag at.”

Lando laughs at this, his eyes tracking past me and I know instantly as him and Franco smile, “Kid!” Lando waves him over just as Franco catches the look on my face.

His mouth drops but I just run my tongue over my teeth, holding back my smile with my hands on my hips.

Kimi is next to me in seconds, coolly looking at me as if he wasn’t an inch away from me yesterday. “Hey.”

“So what are your intentions?” Franco comes in hot and embarrassing, my eyes widening at him.

Kimi looks confused and a little intimidated, “With…?”

I stare Franco down, my eyes wide and panicked, Lando finally understanding and breaking out into laughter.

“Next year. You gonna be okay with your friend on the grid? I mean we all saw what happened with Lewis.”

Kimi looks at me as if i’m going to be any help, “I think i’ll be okay… Y/n will probably give me more issues than Ol.”

I scoff, “Right. You’re so cocky with Merc. Do you need a reminded how Lewis is driving that car this weekend?” I tick and wave my finger, “Ollie was totally geeking out when he overtook him.”

He laughs as Lando smiles, “I say we get Y/n a car and see how she likes it.”

Kimi shakes his head, “Don't say that! She’ll go bowling and still win.”

I smile widely, “I was a menace in karting. Kimi has never had the pleasure of racing against me.”

“You’re the one getting cocky, Bella. You really think you can beat me?” I nod, knowing full well I would not beat him.

Lando and Franco both look at us quizzically, “Bella?” Franco speaks italian. Something Kimi clearly did not know.

Lando frowns, “Bella? Is that your middle name or something.” Kimi looks like a deer in headlights.

“More like a nickname.” I mumble.

Franco eyes me, “And you know what it means?”

Lando is still confused, “What does it mean!?”

We all ignore him, “Mhm.” I say as Kimi fiddles with his ring, “Anyways- I gotta go!”

⋆༺

I ignore Kimi for the rest of the day. In my mind, i’m blaming it on work as if the rain hasn’t stopped my job.

Well, I still sit in the garage and snap pictures of the same things over and over again. Charles and Carlos are pretty but become boring to look at after two hours of them sitting and staring into space.

“Y/n!” The head media manager comes up to me, “Could you go print out what I just sent you? It’s for a tiktok.” I nod, grateful for a distraction and a reason to get out of the cold.

Walking through the halls, I stare at blank walls and try to find the printer which we share with two other teams.

It’s hidden in a dark corner, the door shut. I walk in, still humming to my music when I face Kimi. I’m reminded of last night and how his humming ceased when he saw me.

He turns around when the door squeaks, “Oh, Hey.”

“They got you running errands again?” I smile, the door shutting behind me.

“You’re one to talk.” He eyes my phone in my hand, the picture pulled up already.

“Fair enough…” I walk closer to him, he’s leaning over the printer, “How long is your stuff going to take?”

“I’m assuming a while because I can’t get it to work.” My eyebrows pull together as I look at the tiny screen, my arm brushing his as I reach over and press some buttons.

I eye his arms, something that keeps acting a magnet for my eyes. Stupid driver workouts.

Kimi checks his watch, groaning, “I gotta be back soon.” I keep messing with it as he crosses his arms.

“I’m not very experienced in printers.” I shrug, turning to him, “Maybe we can borrow Haas’?” He makes a face, “It’s a printer, not a car part.”

When he reaches for the doorknob a sense of sadness washes over me, knowing we’ll be separated again.

But i’m supposed to be avoiding him! I can't make up my mind and it’s making me angry. I don’t want to be with him but I do at the same time and I'm busy and stressed and he’s so damn cute.

He turns it, except it doesn’t turn. His hand slides over it as it stays in place. He looks back at me, already panicked.

Suddenly, i’ve completely forgot about why I want to stay with him. Because all I can focus on is that I’m stuck in a tiny room with Kimi Antonelli and no fucking air.

⋆༺

KIMI

We’ve texted everyone we know, called and banged on the door, yet still… nothing.

I think she’s freaking out because her hand hasn’t left her bracelet. I sit next to her on the floor as she shivers, “I’m going to petition for a bigger warning budget.” I laugh a bit, shrugging off my jacket.

I see her gaze drop to the black bomber, “I don’t know how you’re cold because I'm getting hot.” I push the jacket closer to her and she offers a small smile and pulls it on.

I think she’s going to stay quiet, but she looks up and sighs, “Must be because I'm so hot.”

I laugh, grateful for her humor back, “Glad to know you’re feeling well enough to talk yourself up.” a small smile graces her lips again.

“The day I don’t, call the police.” She crosses her arms, pulling my jacket close to her, “Thanks.”

“No problem, I told you, you look good in mercedes merch.” She’s facing the wall across from us still, her head tilted back as she bites back a smile.

“Do I look good in Mercedes, or is it just because it’s yours?” She tilts her head towards me as a slow smile meets my lips.

“Bit of both?” I look at her. Her eyes locked on mine as they squint a bit, assessing my answer. “Mostly cause it’s mine.”

She shakes her head, looking forward again, her cheeks pink.

“Your flirting game has improved.” she teases again, “Must be all the time around me.” cocky. arrogant. and correct.

“Nah, I think it’s because I actually mean it.” I see her breathing change, her smile fading.

“Too far, Antonelli. Don’t do that.” She whispers.

“Do what?”

She sits up, turning towards me completely, “Giving me false hope.”

I blink, realizing that this is real and happening right now as we’re stuck in a tiny room, “There’s nothing false about it.” when she starts to look away from me, rolling her eyes, I scoff, “You can’t be the one upset about this. You started this!”

“I started this?” she looks shocked but her voice is still calm, “You called me ‘Bella’. You called me Bella and I didn’t even know your last name.”

“Some girls would like that I described her as I see her. And you 100% love it.” She licks her lips as I continue, “Ollie tells both of us to stop constantly. I thought you at least do it to bug him.”

“Kimi. I don’t care what my brother says that much and… If I was doing it because of Ollie- I wouldn’t flirt with you when we’re alone.”

“So you like it. So why did you tell me to stop?” I can’t quite place the look on her face, confusion mixed with… anger?

“I told you… false hope.”

“And I told you. There’s nothing false about it.” She swallows. I can hear myself breathing as she stares at me.

She stares at me as if it's the first time we met. She stares at me like she knows everything about me. She’s confusing and it’s making me so angry because we’re stuck in this fucking room and neither of us will-

I’m so caught up in my own mind that I don’t realize she’s leaning in. I don’t realize until her hand touches my jaw and her lips are on mine.

She pulls back, her eyes wide and her breath quickened. “I- Sorry.” I’m shaking my head and pulling her in before she can talk again.

She tastes like mint and smells like chocolate. My hand slips under the jacket, gripping her waist. I think I'm dreaming and if I am I don’t want to ever be woken up.

“Bella.” I whisper, my breath ragged and her smile pressing against my lips.

And then the door opens.

We pull apart so quickly that when Ollie blinks down at us, he doesn't see us. But he knows.

Y/n’s lips are red and my cheeks match it. We’re both panting and Ollie just blinks.

“Ollie.” Y/n says, her voice breaking the silence.

“No.” Is all he says before turning around and leaving.

⋆༺

YOU

Ollie isn’t pissed.

Ollie is… embarrassed? Uncomfortable? Horrified that he caught his sister and best friend making out?

We had texted him to get us out of that room and obviously I completely forgot because I was FUCKING KISSING KIMI.

I’m still warm and absolutely buzzing, but with the rain delay, I'm on extra photo duty. I edit all through the afternoon and fall asleep before I even think of texting him.

On quali and race day, I wake up way too early to my phone dead, and when I finally make it to the track, I'm working again.

With my phone a tiny bit charged, I text Kimi.

I’m tapping my foot the whole race, cringing at every crash and mentally screaming at every red flag.

I keep checking my phone to see if Kimi has texted me but still nothing. He pops up on the TV when Lewis gets overtaken.

I don’t mean to smile, but I do.

It’s ridiculous. I’m acting like a total school girl! One day, i’m flirting and sizing him up because I thought our game was… well… just a game. Even though I didn’t want it to be. And the next, I'm kissing him and checking my phone like an obsessed freak in love.

I really do like him. And that scares me a whole lot more than I expected.

⋆༺

KIMI

I frown with the team at todays result for Lewis, but I fucking run out of the garage the second the podium starts.

I find her in the midst of chaos, her hair is wet and I can’t help but laugh. She doesn’t see me yet, but she’s making a disgusted face and peeling her hair off her face, “Bella.”

She turns just then, her face morphing into a smile, “Hi.”

“You wanted to talk?” She nods, pulling me into an empty glass room.

“I like you.”

A slow smile pulls at my lips as I lean against the table, “I like you too…”

She sighs, like all she needed was to hear that. “But i’m fucking scared because how does that even work and I always thought you flirted back as a joke and Ollie is so weird about it and I really really like you.”

I take her hand in mine, her eyes settling on me, “The first time I saw you, I told Ollie you were pretty. He then informed me that you were his twin and I wanted to die.” She laughs out loud, “But it’s more than your face, because as pretty as you are, and as much as we flirt… I like you because you’re the smartest eighteen year old I know and the only one who can make me laugh and blush simultaneously.”

Her breath slows, stepping closer so she’s standing in between my legs, “I’m sorry for being a pussy about you.”

I laugh, “I wouldn’t give up your cheesy lines for anything.” my favorite smile stares back at me. The one that I create. I poke her in the side, “You fancy me!” I mock her accent as she rolls her eyes and kisses me.

She’s sweet and perfect and my girl.

[celestialprincesse]

Home - NSFW🎀

You hum softly to the music which plays quietly from the kitchen radio, flipping the pancake currently occupying the pan, perfect and golden brown. The sound of Simon's footsteps doesn't even register until you squeak softly at the feeling of his long fingers grabbing into the meat of your ass, nosing at the back of your neck, breathing in the smell of your hair.

"Hi." You hum happily, leaning back into him with the spatula still in hand.

"Come back to bed." His voice is gruff against your ear as his lips descend on the spot where your neck meets your collarbone, making you giggle, swatting him away with your kitchen utensil weapon of choice. "M' makin' you breakfast." You grumble in response, leaning into him as his circle your waist, dipping into the hem of your shorts, making a beeline for your clit.

"Pancakes gonna burn." Your voice comes out as a pitchy whine which makes him hum in satisfaction.

"Don't care - want my girl." The sound of his voice makes your thighs clench, panties already uncomfortably wet.

Your head tips back against his shoulders when his fingers dip into your cunt with no warning, eyes rolling shut with a hiss of satisfaction.

"Already wet f'me." He growls appreciatively, fingers curling to hit the spot which makes your knees buckle, making you huff when he pulls away from you, and before you can turn to give him an indignant look, he's got you halfway sat on the counter, pulling your panties down and getting down on his knees.

"Up." He instructs, giving your thighs a little tap as you loop them over his shoulders, his stubble scratching against the plushy skin there as his fingers dig in, holding on like you might run off, his slightly grown out fingernails leaving little crescents in the meat of them.

You hiccup softly when he noses at your clit, the vibration of his hum making your thighs clench around him. You worry that you might suffocate him before he's licking a long stripe along your pussy, making your head tip back against the backsplash, eyes squeezing shut when his tongue probes into you with no warning.

"Fuck, Si." You pant, thighs pressing against his ears whilst your fingers weave into his hair, practically melting when he brushes the bump of his nose over your clit. It's been far too long with him being away, so much so that you're almost embarrassingly close to cumming as you rock your hips desperately against his face.

"S a'right." He rumbles against you, grip tightening on your thighs as you try to wriggle away from him, his eyes meeting your own with a look that could only be described as pure lust. "S' a'right, baby, you can cum, want to taste you, yeah?" His voice is a low growl as you whimper when his tongue delves back into your pussy, dead set on making you finish on his face.

You keen out desperately, hands tightening in his hair when the coil in your stomach snaps, head dropping back, not catching the reverence in his eyes when he watches you finish, lapping up your spend like a parched man to water.

"My fucking pancakes." You pant indignantly when he's pulled away with a smug look, already going off to wash his face and turn off the stove.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this is like my first time actually writing smut wtf😛 sorry bout that ya'll I was feelin a lil slutty😗

[eddiesxangel]

Your requests are open aaah 💕 OKAY this scenario for Eddie has been on my mind for a while - imagine hooking up with him (could either be a fuckboy or not) and you're worried you might turn him off when you're riding him because you easily get tired (and in past relationships you'd get criticized for it too because those jerks expected you to do all the work).

in the middle of it eddie can sense something wrong and at first you're hesitant to tell him then you eventually give in, scared he'll stop but Eddie just smiles and sweet and just says "well why didn't you say so sweetheart? hold on" and then suddenly he's wrapping his arms around your waist and thrust up into you like an animal and you get overwhelmed with pleasure and Eddie loves the little whimpers / sounds you're making as you bury your face into his neck 😏✨

-@/daisymunson (because sadly it's not my main huhu)

Sorry this took so long

Your chest was heaving as your poor legs have been working tirelessly to bounce on Eddie’s cock.

“Fuck baby, you like that don’t you, fucking so good” Eddie moaned “I’m going to call you my little bunny. Love hoping on my cock.”

He loved that you took charge that so far every time you’ve fucked, which was only three, you were on top. He could watch your tits bounce for him as your rode him, how your fingers dug into his shoulders for balance. How you would lean down into him to kiss which only made him slip in deeper.

You wanted to enjoy yourself, you loved the feeling of his cock brushing up against your inner walls but, god you were so tired.

The pain in your thighs was more intense than the feeling of Eddie inside of you. The only thing you could focus on was the burning in your thighs, you were worried you would cramp up if you kept going so you slowed down.

“What’s wrong? Are you not into this?” Eddie could see you were off in another world. You hadn’t been making as much eye contact, your face was scrunching up like you were in pain.

“No ,I am… it’s just” you trailed off with heavy breaths as you paused.

“Tell me” he squeezed the sides of your hips, only making your pussy clench down on him.

“My legs are tired…” you let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Baby why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought you’d be turned off if I made you do all that work…”

“Why the hell would I be turned off by that?” He guides your chin with a single finger to look at him.

Your eyes looked down as your face turned hot. The other men you’d been with expected you to be in top, so what would make Eddie any different?

“Because everyone else has…”

“Everyone else— who? what?" Eddie stumbled over his words. He was dumbfounded. "so you never had someone on top of you?!" he needed to clarify.

you shamefully shake your head no and eddie moves into action at lightning speed, flipping you on your back unexpectedly.

"now baby, you just lay there and look pretty. Let me do all of the work."

His hard cock re-enters you and at this angle he is so deep inside you let out a cry of pleasure.

Eddie's hips rut into you at a speed at which you could never gain while you were on top. The sensation was so overwhelming you lost yourself in the moment.

Your soft mewls quickly turned into long outwards moans of pleasure.

Eddie’s never see you so fucked out there was no way you were getting on top in a while if this is how he could make you feel.

His big hands were pressed to the backs of your plush thighs, pushing them as wide as you’re let them.

“Fuck you’re taking my cock so good baby, sucking me in so good it’s hard to pull out.” His eyes focused on the place where you connected. He loved seeing the creamy ring forming at the base of his cock with each thrust into you.

You were lost in the feeling, overpowered by what Eddie was able to give you. Was this the kind of sex you’re been missing out on? Being taken care of your partner. Yes it was.

Your body started to tighten as the impending orgasm was to wash over you. You felt light headed and the only thing you could focus on was how Eddie’s cock pounding inside your pussy. Your hands grabbed his back and your legs wrapped around him like a koala bear, pulling him closer and closer. You never wanted to disconnect your bodies after this.

“Eddie!” You screamed as your pussy clamped down on his cock and a rush of pleasure flowed through your body.

“Yea that’s it, fucking cum on my cock” his hips never slowed, the room was filled with the wet snaking sound of skin on skin. The room smelled of sex and sweat. Your haze never lifted until Eddie’s hips sputtered as he came.

You broke the minutes of silence of catching your breath.

“I didn’t know it could be like that”

“There are so many more positions I want you in baby we are just getting started.

[evielmostdefinitely]

i love soft!coriolanus. big bad mean man being so sweet?

something where maybe you're sick? nothing major but something where he gets to dote on you?

watch over me |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, you're sick and coriolanus takes care of you.

contains: slightly dark!coriolanus. possessive and manipulative-ish coriolanus and slight paranoia. past mentions of lucy gray. mainly just fluff.

“Is there a reason you decided not to show up to the luncheon today? Left me sitting there like an idiot without you.” Coriolanus was annoyed, beyond annoyed- tone clipped with irritation, stomping through the suite that was just for the two of you. 

He didn’t see you in the living room, not lounging on the couch or even in the sun room. His bristling exasperation grew to raging fear. Sickening, haunting what if’s slammed to the front of his mind, painstaking memories of Lucy Gray’s disappearance. History had repeated itself again, he was sure of it as Coriolanus barked out your name, turning the corner furiously. 

Your tiny squeak of a response came from the ensuite bathroom, muffled by the closed door and high ceilings of your bedroom. Coriolanus bounded towards the bathroom, yanking the door open with a fury, softening once he saw you, crumbled on the bathroom tile. Your head pressed against the clawfoot tub, stuffy nose sniffles that had him cringing. 

“Darling,” Coriolanus watched you carefully. “Are you alright?” 

You lifted your head, eyes red rimmed with irritation. You looked pitiful- Coryo cursed the way it made his heart swell and boast with pure adoration. “I think I might have the plague.” You sounded like your nose was clogged, voice scratchy and soft, looking at him helplessly. 

Coryo grinned, a small huff of a laugh, walking over to you. “The plague?” He repeated, pressing a hand to your forehead- the skin clammy and hot. “You feel feverish.” 

“I am.” You croaked, leaning into his touch. “I had the doctor check on me. I have the flu. I-I meant to call you, but I got really cold and then hot, and-” 

“-That’s alright.” Coriolanus shook his head gently, thumbs massaging your temples in a soft way that had you mewling, head lolling into his touch. “I hate that you’re not feeling well, my love. Did the doctor give you anything?” 

“A shot.” You rasped, eyes closed, body pressing further and further into him. “I think my fever broke. I got really hot so I decided to lay in here. The tile is cool.” 

“I could have brought you ice.” Coryo muttered. “I can have the Avoxes bring you an ice pack for your head.” 

“No, I-I’ll be alright. I feel better now.” You were lying, Coryo knew that, but he didn’t correct you. Not now. Not while you felt so ill. 

“I’m sorry I missed the luncheon.” Your eyes rounded when they met his gaze. 

“None of that. I won’t hear it.” Coriolanus shook his head firmly, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead. Were you too hot? What did too hot feel like? Should he call the doctor back? His own worries mixed with his sinking guilt made him feel uneasy. 

“You need to rest.” Coryo said firmly. 

“I-I’m alright. Just let me bathe, and I can make it to the dinner-” 

“-Don’t be ridiculous.” Coryo scoffed, a hand on your sweat soaked back, pulling you up, holding you firmly to his side as he walked you towards the bed. 

You clung to him, walking stiff from the tightness in your joints, a little dizzy from the medicine and the sudden movements. He loved it, pulling you closer to him. How pliant you were, how easily you obeyed and relied on him. 

“You are to stay in bed until you feel better, do you understand me?” Coriolanus commanded, flipping the covers back, helping you into your side of the bed. 

You fell into your pillows far too easily, no fight left in you, body flooded with fatigue. It was so easy to let Coryo take control of you like this. Let him take care of you, tell you what you should and shouldn’t do- do it for you without asking. You supposed you shuld feel trapped, and maybe at times you did, but at moments like these, your heart filled with nothing but fondness. 

“You tell me if you feel anything, anything even the slightest bit off.” Coryo’s hand pressed to your warm cheek, your eyes glazed with fever. “Are you listening to me?” 

“Yes.” You hummed, eyelids drooping. “I will let you know.” 

“What do you need now?” The bed dipped, Coriolanus taking a seat next to you. “What can I get for you?” 

“I’m just going to rest, Coryo.” You muttered, settling into the soft pillows. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” 

“Coryo, I’m fine.” You grinned sleepily, heart bursting with warmth and adoration for him. “I just need to rest.”

Coriolanus allowed it, commanding his protempore to bring him his work, rescheduling the meetings for the day so he could work at the small desk in the corner of the room. Carefully looking over schedules and statements and militia plans, while also watching you. Every snore, hum, sigh, toss and turn, sound coming from you had his attention peeked, ready at any moment to scream for the doctor. His mind raced still, even with you in front of him, possibilites of horrendous outcomes and terrifying scenarios. 

Until you woke up, greeted by a small bowl of soup- one his Grandma’am used to make him and Tigris when they were ill. “I can eat on my own, Coryo.” You shook your head lightly at him, accepting another spoonful of the warm liquid, sighing at how it soothed your aching throat. 

Coriolanus didn’t respond, bringing the spoon to your lips instead. And you let him, of course you let him. When he was so gentle like this, fussed over you this way, gave you his undivided attention. 

Contentment settled over both of you behind the closed doors of your home. This type of softness never to be seen outside of here. Tomorrow, Coriolanus would order three executions in the Capitol, striking even more fear over the Districts and weeding out the rebels. He’d be merciless and cold and cruel out there, but for you- for now, he’d be gentle.

[biteyoubiteme]

strawberry float

soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: who cares if anyone hears you two? you haven't had space all week until now

warnings: 🔞!!! slight voyeurism, thigh fucking, slight fingering, no protection, creampie, mentions of breeding, soobin calls reader bunny once, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.28k

an: feedback appreciated! this is apart of my float event! check out the other members fics [float m.list]

[m.list]

for months you and all your friends have been talking about renting a beach house to celebrate classes ending. Every day closer to finals was closer to you being able to relax on the beach with no other worries besides what you would have for dinner. the first few nights had been fine, everyone in their respective rooms only the walls were thin enough for you to hear people doom scrolling before bed, the soft hum of everyone talking, and the alarms that had been left on without anyone realizing until we were all waking up at six am.

the whole week you have been happy to spend time with your friends and your boyfriend's friends only you had little time alone. every night all of you would try to squish on the one couch in your rental, the rest who didn’t make the cut spilling onto the floor spread out as you all played Mario kart.

you’re sitting on the couch between your boyfriend's legs, his arms wrapped around you, chin on your shoulder. you’re half asleep after spending all day outside, leaning into soobin trying to fight your sleep. not even paying attention to the chatter you don’t hear that this is the last game, your eyes shut when you feel the brush of soobins lips against your cheek you give a sleepy hum. “come on let's go to bed,” he whispers but you shake your head, “no the games not over,’

he gives a soft chuckle, “It's okay everyone is tired too we are all going to bed,”

Everyone is standing and getting their things together to head back to their rooms, calling one of the two bathrooms to shower before bed, and heading to the kitchen to stay up longer. but soobin guides you to the room you’re staying in together, shutting the door behind you as you collapse on the bed. “I don’t even want to change,” you groan rolling over to your back. soobins standing by your bags pulling off his hoodie his shirt under riding up to reveal the smooth planes of his stomach, hair a mess up top his head like he's just run his fingers through the strands. you watch him get ready for bed, unbuttoning his jeans, and tugging down the zipper without pulling them down his legs. “Are you going to watch me all night or do something?” his brow hiked as he gazed at you.

you roll over again pressing your face into the duvet without answering. if you two were anywhere else you would have immediately acted on his teasing, gotten down on your knees before him or stripped down for him. and you knew yourself, once you started you wouldnt stop, the ache between your legs persistent enough to drive you insane. but soobins not having you brush him off tonight, not when your skirt is flipped up showing off your black panties, all your exposed leg, and the outline of your cunt enough to make him not care about everyone else in the house.

you feel his hand slide up your thighs and you turn your head enough to see him leaning over you. “we could be quiet,” he suggests, one finger pulling on the edge of your panties letting the fabric snap back.

“soobin,” you warn but it's lost to him when he's already this far into the idea.

“I'll be quiet, no one will know,” he slides his fingers over your covered folds, smirking, sweet dimple now sinful, “You can be quiet, can’t you? you’re already getting wet,”

you roll your hips back into his hand, “I don’t know…” you don’t trust yourself enough to know the answer to his question. the two of you lived alone and neither of you cared if your neighbors heard you.

“I won't even put it in,” but he knew even that wouldn't keep you from whimpering. he swirled his fingers over your clit giving you enough pressure to arch your back. “please?”

“Okay,” you breathed and soobin couldn't push his pants down fast enough. He was fumbling with your panties sliding them down your legs and didn’t even turn you around.

he pressed his fingers back to your clit sliding them down to your entrance to gather your wetness, he rubbed back and forth trying to get his fingers extra wet. Already you were struggling to stay quiet, teeth digging into your lip with every pass over your swollen nub.

soobin rubbed his fingers along your inner thighs, leaving you a mess before pressing you further into the mattress. he slipped his cock between your thighs, his tip knocking your clit with every movement, veiny shaft pressed against your folds, “ oh fuck,” he whispered at the end of a soft moan, “even your legs squeeze me so well,” he pressed his chest to your back, face right at the nape of your neck.

soobin gave slow thrusts to test the waters, finding a rhythm that both of you could handle without being too vocal. but with every drag of his hips, he was finding it harder and harder to keep his steady pace. He wanted to pound against you without worrying about the sound of his skin against yours, he wanted to hear just how wet you got for him, to let you know just how good you made him feel. but his pants were pressed right into your hair, hands on either side of you to keep his weight off of you. he could feel you getting so slick that he could have slipped right into you, pressed into your cervix, and breed you into the mattress like he wanted to but he couldn't, not here. it was taking everything in him to control himself before he pressed his hips closer to yours, the strangled moan you let out breaking his resolve.

soobin pushed himself up giving one long stroke almost falling out from between your thighs but instead he notched his tip in your entrance, your breathy mewl so sweet to his ears as he pushed into your gummy walls, pussy sucking him up just like it did. his groan rumbled his chest, face twisted in restraint to try to keep himself in check. only it wasn't working at all because you were cumming around him from the feel of him pressing into your gspot.

you buried your face into the duvet, fist balled in the fabric but it didn’t keep soobin from hearing your moans. everything felt too good and it didn’t take him long to follow your climax. your name lost on his lips as he came, slowing thrusts making lewd slapping noises from how sticky your thighs had become from the mix of your slick and his precum. he didn’t want to stop, every drag of his hips showing peeks of his cream covered cock. he didn’t even notice his soft words of affirmation, the breathy words leaving his mouth without his knowledge. “you did so good bunny,” hot air on the back of your neck.

the two of you tried to catch your breath and when soobin pulled out you let out a soft gasp at the emptiness. “I don’t think you were quiet,” you say looking over your shoulder, soobin running his hand through his hair.

It's only then that you realize you hear some of the other boys yelling across the house, “could you be any louder?” “some of us are trying to sleep!” your hands slap over your eyes feeling your embarrassment wash over you.

“oh my god,” you bury your face back into the duvet and you feel soobin kiss the top of your head.

“ignore them, let’s go clean up in the shower,”

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 1

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: the father of one of your students is acting rather strangely - but when he smiles at you, you can’t help but forget your own name.

wc: 6k

warnings/tags: mentions of blood and violence, swearing, pining, stripping, strip club, sex workers, sexual fantasy, smut, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f! receiving), pet names, dom!miguel, single father!miguel, teacher!stripper!reader

author’s note: set in the universe where miguel replaces his father!variant with himself. ps - planning on turning this into a series/full fic.

New York

Earth - 9193

Since you could remember, the sky above the city, flecked with struggling stars and choking on itself over clouds of smog like cigarette smoke, had been deep purple. Some called it violet. Others named it plum. They were trying to make a prettier picture of an ugly reality, desperately ignoring the real world that held them captive. The purple held every soul in this city on a taut leash; each time someone was given a little slack, they wandered too far and discovered that, really, they hadn’t ever wanted to stray in the first place. Car bombings every week. Shootings. Back alley guttings. Innocence all but a foreign language to the citizens of New York.

You wished with every bit of you that one day you’d be able to escape and see the real color of the sky. Because deep down you knew, wanted to believe, wished and prayed… that it was not this shade of dark.

Your classroom was one of the only lit rooms here in Washington Elementary School, a beacon through dimly-lit hallways and the even dimmer streets outside your windows. A long, silent exhale managed to escape your lips as you continued to grade your third graders’ spelling tests, using a pink pen to correct their mistakes instead of a red one. You figured it was less harsh, more inviting to be open to learning from where they first failed. Your back was beginning to cramp from sitting in these damn little-kid chairs, your knees practically hugged to your chest due to how low to the floor you were. You would have been at your desk - hell, you would have been home getting ready for your second job right about now - had it not been for the young girl sitting across the table from you.

Gabriella O’Hara was, in your opinion, one of the most intelligent children you’d had the pleasure of teaching. She was quick and clever and friendly, not to mention, captain of her little soccer team funded by the taxes of PTA parents and the grumbling millionaires of the city. She was a frequent flier on your good-behavior list, and her name had made a home for itself on the principal’s honor roll long before she’d landed in your class.

She was a sweetheart, to say the least. She had been raised well by her father - who, uncharacteristically, had been a no show when it came time for pick up two hours ago.

Glancing up from your papers, you smiled gently at Gabriella as she scribbled along her homework page. “Briella, honey,” you said and leaned your chin in your hand. “Why don’t you check to see if your dad texted at all.”

Obediently, Gabriella dug her phone - a little flip-type, despite there being hundreds of smartphones out these days - and clicked the button to scroll through her recent texts. You watched as her face fell, thick brows and full lips pulling downward. “Nothing,” she said and placed her phone back. She looked to you, and it was obvious from the way she squirmed in her seat that her nervous stomach was starting to get the better of her. “I’m kind of scared, Miss Y/N. My daddy’s never late.”

Setting down your pink pen, you reached across the table and placed a hand on her small forearm. You’d stayed late before when parents were late for pick up, or they forgot, or they were too stoned out of their minds to bother, but you had to admit, you were rather worried, as well. Her father had never been late once, not even by five minutes. So two hours was, really, something to bat an eye at. “I’m sure everything’s fine,” you assured her and offered a gentle smile. “He probably just got held up at work. Maybe his phone died.” Your gaze flickered briefly to the windows behind her, strung across with colorful drawings and decorations, as a number of wailing police cars zipped past. When she started to follow your eyes, you added quickly, “I bet he’s on his way right now. Why don’t you finish up your homework so you can have the rest of the evening free when you get home.”

As she went back to her work, you found yourself tapping your fingernail against the table, your gaze stuck to an empty corner across the room. Miguel O’Hara was nothing but punctual, not just to everyday events like after-school pick up, but to every single thing he did. Soccer practice and games. Parent-teacher conferences. Hell, you wouldn’t put it past him to be an hour early to that fancy job of his at Alchemax every Monday through Friday. He was a perfectionist, signing every grade card check and permission slip with the neatest signature you’d ever seen. And it was a feat to marvel at, considering he was a single father.

Once, at a soccer practice, you’d heard from a few of the mothers who had nothing better to do than gossip that he’d moved himself and Gabriella over from Queens years ago when he was hired as a geneticist. Her mother had apparently left them when she was born, and he’d done everything from that moment on for the good of his little girl.

You weren’t afraid to admit to yourself he was, by far, the best-looking man you’d ever laid eyes on. Cheekbones placed high on his face, wide, broad shoulders, a sinewy frame that nearly challenged the doorframes he walked through. He was friendly, sure. But that was all you knew. You’d never been able to get close enough to know much else. An enigma to your curious mind, Miguel was nothing short of a puzzle that you desperately wanted to put together and see the bigger picture for yourself.

Shaking your head slightly, you forced yourself to wind back into the present. God, you needed to get a fucking grip. Crushing on the father of one of your students? Fucking pathetic. You had a boyfriend, for God’s sake.

You had just begun to grade your papers again, nearing the end of your stack, when there came the sounds of footsteps pounding against the tile floor of the hallway outside. They were jogging, approaching your room at an alarming rate. You stood, thinking it was the janitor having locked himself out of his closet again, and prepared to fetch your keys when a much different - yet no less welcome - figure filled the doorway.

“Hi, daddy,” said Gabriella as Miguel O’Hara entered your classroom.

You looked up, lips parted as you took him in. God, he was stunning. Somewhere around six feet with dark, somewhat-tamed hair that matched his tan skin and the thick brows sitting above his sloped eyes, he stood with a chest that rose and caved rapidly, like he’d run through the entire school searching for your room. Which he shouldn’t have - he knew the classroom his own daughter was in. Didn’t he?

“Oh, baby,” Miguel said and rounded the table so quickly you could have blinked and missed it. He hauled her up into his arms like she was nothing but a sack of flour and hugged her tight to his chest, almost like he was trying to mold the feeling of her to himself. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I lost track of time. I’m so sorry.” As if just realizing you were in the room, watching the pair with a small smile, he set his daughter back down and pulled her backpack from the back of her chair. “Pack up your things, okay? We’ll go home in just a minute.”

He approached you where you stood beside your desk loading your purse, and you swore your heart skipped a beat as he towered over you. Thick, corded muscles and a frame that made your stomach churn excitedly, he was the perfect picture of a fucking masterpiece. “Hi,” he said in a low tone, meant for you to hear and not Gabriella. “I’m so sorry for keeping you here. Time got away from me, and when I got here, the front doors were locked.” He took a breath. “Thank you. For watching her, I mean.”

Forcing your heart to calm its thundering in the confines of your chest, you grinned up at him brightly. “It’s not a problem, Mister O’Hara. I was happy to.” You decided to say nothing about the fact that it was unlike him to lose track of time. He wore a watch that you recognized as one of the latest, expensive versions that were magnetic, not electric, so it was incapable of stopping. How exactly did time get away from a man who revolved around it? “I’m sure she’s going to crash when you get home, anyway. She had a big day.”

Miguel blinked a few times and placed a hand on his hip, jutting it out slightly. Fuck, you wished he wouldn’t do that. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. We had a soccer scrimmage against one of the other classes today and she pulled the winning goal. Then there was the assembly over fire safety, but I’m sure you saw that in the handout last week.”

His lips remained parted for a long moment as his dark, umber gaze traveled across the stack of next week’s announcement handouts. “Right,” he said after a moment or two. “Right. Do, uh… do you think I could have another one of those? For this week. And maybe next week’s, too. Has that been sent home already?”

Giving him a rather crooked smile, you opened a drawer in your desk and produced the light green paper with last week’s announcements. Then you stacked it beneath next week’s and extended it toward his hulking frame. “Sorry if this seems a little… personal, Mister O’Hara,” you said as he took the papers, “but are you feeling alright? I really don’t mean any offense, but you seem a little… off.”

Tilting his head slightly, Miguel seemed to hesitate, fumbling with his answer in his head. He was frozen for a brief moment before your attentions were drawn across the classroom, where Gabriella zipped up her backpack and began to trudge toward the door. “I’m alright,” he said as he turned back to you. “I just, uh… I hit my head this morning. Been a little out of sorts, but I’ll be alright.”

“Daddy,” whined Gabriella under her breath. “I’m tired.”

“Okay, princesa,” he said and met her at your door. After slinging her backpack over his own shoulder and taking her hand, he glanced back at you. “Thank you again…” You watched as his eyes flickered to your name written across the whiteboard. “...Miss Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Mister O’Hara.” A few more words sat on your tongue, desperately trying to fight against your lips and jump out before the moment escaped. You tried to fight them down, but eventually they won the battle and spilled forth. “And - and you can just call me Y/N.”

Miguel stared at you for a moment, and you thought briefly that you had crossed a line you had been unable to see. Then he smiled gently, his full lips spreading into a gentle grin. He opened his mouth to say something in return before Gabriella pulled him out the door and into the hallway. You listened as their voices and the sounds of their footsteps grew quieter before silencing, then turned away and finished gathering your things.

On your way out of the building, while slipping through the front doors, you noticed the steel bolt lock keeping them shut after dark had been snapped entirely in two - as if someone had pulled on the door hard enough to break the lock on their own.

You figured it to have been a couple students who got their hands on their parents’ bolt cutters and made a mental note to ask the janitor for a replacement.

Once you got to your car and flipped the engine, you took a breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. In that breath, you willed yourself to switch into the alternate persona you took on after the school days, after the sun had set and the night really came alive from its demented, hungover state during the lightest hours. You pushed your students into the back of your mind, your plans for tomorrow and upcoming projects and due dates into the recesses of your brain. You shoved back thoughts of Miguel O’Hara and everything about how much you wanted to fucking reverse time so that he could smile at you like he had tonight all over again.

It was time to really work, now.

The Menagerie was a club on the northeast side of the Financial District, where the warehouse fires and muggings weren’t quite as common. Police forces cruised through here more often than, say, Harlem or Queens; the people who ran the city had to keep their most well-paid workers protected and thriving, right? Who else would steal from the hands of the poor and throw it all away the first chance they got?

Thrumming, thundering music like a pulse, like the club itself was alive with the blood of money and alcohol pumping through it, pounded from speakers and shook the walls in their very foundations. Neon lights like jilted, water-colored sunlight shone from corners along the ceilings, creating shadows like both nightmares and dreams along the walls and the faces of the patrons. The bar was overflowing. Security was chasing their own tails. The place was packed. Everyone who was anyone wanted to get into The Menagerie, because between its four walls and roof, you could be anyone you wanted to be.

It was law in this gilded cage that everyone was to wear a mask, its paint and diamonds and ribbons designed to depict animals. Security wore the full-bodied faces of lions. Bartenders and servers played dress-up with rimmed eye gaps as raccoons. Guests were allowed to pick a mask ranging from creatures that roamed the sky to those that crawled the earth. And the girls - the girls were exotic, majestic things that no one would mistake for anything else. They were tigresses and peacocks, they were arctic foxes and lynxes, any animal that had long since gone missing or extinct in this world of yours. Why go searching for the real thing, when they could come here and find the women?

The Menagerie was not a club. It was a cage, for animals so desperate to get out they had bent the bars in an attempt to escape.

Staring at yourself in the mirror of the dressing room, you gingerly affixed the golden mask to your face so that it would stay spread across your features while you danced and entertained. The hard, fake porcelain covered your forehead and nose, leaving your mouth free for the lips and tongues that would attempt to claim yours as their own. Orange and gold butterfly wings blossomed from the center of the mask, disguising you as the endangered insect everyone else seemed to have forgotten about; the Monarch. Fluttering and beautiful upon the wind, never easy to catch.

That was, unless they flew right into a spider’s web.

To your left, a few of the other girls were perfecting their makeup and adjusting their outfits - what little outfits you all had. Zara, known throughout the club as the Panther, caught your eye in the mirror and flashed you a sharp smile.

“You seem quiet tonight,” she said and ran a stick of gloss over her lips. She examined herself close in her handheld. “Something on your mind?”

A few of the other girls tried to inconspicuously listen in, able to sniff out gossip from miles away. Perhaps in here, you all were a little bit more animal than human, after all.

Forcing yourself to smile gently, you waved a ring-garnished hand in Zara’s direction and turned back to your reflection. You hardly recognized yourself like this, despite seeing this version of you all week long. You hoped you never did recognize it. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you brushed off.

Across the dressing room, Shawna, the Owl, tisked her tongue and hummed from deep in her throat. “You know you’re an awful liar, girl,” she said from where she sat scrolling through her phone. “We all noticed when you came in an hour later than you do. Something happen tonight?”

Well, fuck. Now everyone was waiting for your answer, waiting to see if it was worth listening into or not.

Pursing your lips in an attempt to show that it was no big deal, despite how much your stomach and your heart and your brain screamed that it wasn’t, you shrugged a shoulder and tried to avoid their gazes. “Nothing too big,” you replied and began to absentmindedly twist the ribbon keeping your mask in place. “Just… had a student stay a little later. Her dad lost track of time.”

“It couldn’t be that Alchemax hunk you’ve been telling us about.”

Fuck - you really learned to keep your cards closer to your chest.

Your silence must have been enough for them to connect the pieces, because a few of them tittered and giggled. A newer girl, who was still earning her way up to being on stage, piped up. “Have you ever talked to him?” she asked. “I mean, besides school-related stuff. Find out if he’s attached?”

“Absolutely not,” you forced out and stood to straighten out your costume. Your breasts were barely covered by the flimsy top and your ass hung out of the bottoms, both orange and black and white, like a monarch butterfly’s designs. Gold fishnet stockings lined your legs, leading down to a set of heels that had taken weeks to not tip over in. You were supposed to wear a cape, a gown-like train, but it was stepped on too much for you to bother with it. “He’s not there to cruise teachers, he’s just trying to help his kid through the third grade.”

“More than you could’ve asked from my dad,” Zara puffed.

God, you thought, yours, too. And your mother, while you were at it. They’d never come to meetings and games and plays like Miguel did. Hell, they hardly ever even remembered to pick you up from school on their good days.

Gabriella really had hit the father lottery.

Shawna shrugged her shoulders as she rose from her seat and picked up her own mask. “Even if that’s all he’s there for,” she said, then pulled the owl-designed porcelain over her face and fixed you with a stare through the eye holes, “doesn’t have to hold you back from at least trying.”

Her words rang in your ears as you carried on with your work that evening. They stuck with you as you danced for drooling men and women who oggled at you from behind their masks, as you ran your fingers down arms to chase bigger tips, as you followed a man who paid top dollar for a private dance.

Her words rattled like bells in your head as you mindlessly ground yourself against your customer, allowing yourself to get lost in your own imagination while you willed yourself to work. You shut your eyes behind your mask and let yourself fall into a dangerous little scenario you cooked up just for yourself.

You imagined not your boyfriend, who was out there in the city somewhere playing with his stupid fucking band to a crowd of three, not of any celebrity crush or model, but of Miguel O’Hara. You imagined him beneath you instead of some man whose breath smelled like expensive alcohol. You thought of him, and his hulking frame, and his powerful thighs you had found yourself staring at anytime he entered your line of sight.

Mind running away with this little fantasy of yours, you ground yourself a little harder against the lap beneath you, pushed your chest further against the chest parallel to yours. In your head, Miguel let out a huffy breath and rested those large hands of his on your hips, slowly but surely guiding your movements until you were riding his thigh. You tried to imagine, so intensely and desperately, how such an event would go.

He would gently, but firmly, help move your hips so that your exposed clit rubbed perfectly against the rough fabric of his jeans. You would keen and arch your back into him, hands running over his sinewy shoulders, as he hitched his leg and sent a powerful jolt of pleasure running through you and right to your core.

“You like that, pretty girl?” he would murmur in your ear, lips brushing along the shell before his tongue, warm and soft and pink and wet, licked against your lobe. “Ride, querida. ‘Til I say you’re done, and then I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”

You would grind your hips against his leg, moaning aloud and unabashedly when he tensed his corded muscle so that you’d have something to hump into. His hands, wide and spread, would wander along your bare back, memorizing the skin there like it was his and his alone, and he would dip his head to attach his lips to your nipple. He’d suck the nub into a hardened bud, then kiss and lick and nibble the skin around it until it was marred with love marks that would darken the following morning, and then he’d switch and give the other one the same kind of attention.

“Miguel,” you’d whimper in a certain kind of tone, and suddenly you’d be on the bed, pulled to the edge so that the globes of your ass hung off and when he kneeled he had access to your cunt bared for him.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he would say as he pressed open-mouthed kisses up and up your inner thighs, getting closer to where you needed him most. “All for me and me alone. Isn’t that right, bebe?”

You wouldn’t be able to give him a clear answer at first, not when he would lick a long, wet stripe up the center of your folds and up to your clit. He would expertly find that little bundle of nerves, wrapping his lips around it and fondling with his tongue until you couldn’t do anything but sigh and moan and card your fingers through his dark hair to pull him closer. He would suck on your sweet spot for a while, alternating between licking stripes and adorning it with kisses, before he would slowly drag his long, thick fingers toward your sopping folds.

But he would stop just short.

“Say it,” he would tell you, dark, impenetrable gaze fixated on you from where he kneeled between your legs like a devout believer praying to his one and only love - his goddess. When you would whine and cry from the pausing of his ministrations, he would take his mouth, his wonderful, hot breath, away from your aching cunt. He would cock his head, allowing a bit of hair to fall across his face. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to, chica.”

“Miguel,” you would say again, because, really, that was all you could think of to say. “Miguel, please… need you, please…”

He would pull his fingers from your heat, gaze stony and immovable as a mountain standing tall in the midst of a storm. God, not even that could sway him. “Tell me,” he would demand again, this time in a low baritone that made your cunt clench around nothing because goddammit, even his fucking voice could send you into heat like a damn dog. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to. Now.”

“You,” would come the small, high-pitched answer, tumbling from your lips without another thought that did not involve him. “You, Miguel. Belongs to you. All for you, no one else.” You would babble, desperate to reach your climax before he let you fall back down that incline so, so cruelly, yet so, so deliciously. “Please, Miguel, need you. Need your fingers, anything. Just fuck me, please, handsome, fuck me ‘til I can’t remember my own name.”

He would tilt his head even further, like a predator toying with the prey he’d been chasing after for miles upon miles, before placing a gentle, feather-light kiss upon the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl,” he would say, then attack your clit with his full, thick lips, plunge two of his fingers into your heat, and begin to fuck you into oblivion.

The sound of his fingers constantly edging in and out of your dripping pussy, so wet you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and your ass, would pull the most wonderful and pornographic-sounding moans and whimpers and whines of his name from your throat. Your own slick would coat his digits like honey, so sweet that for a moment he would stop his assault on your divine bundle of nerves and crane his neck to lick up a bit of it from where it dripped down your ass. The flat of his muscle would raise goosebumps along your skin as you cried out for him, one hand gripping his hair and the other buried into the sheets of the bed.

“Miguel,” you would cry and begin to rock your hips to meet the thrusts of his fingers, practically humping his face. He would take it like it was his last meal, returning to his sucking and licking and circling of your clit to send bolt after bolt of pleasure and heaven and everything else in between. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel…!”

“That’s it,” he would murmur between licks through your soaked folds, feeling as your slick dripped down his wrist. “Say my name, bebe, tell them who’s making you feel this fucking good.”

He would angle his fingers then at just the right angle, his fingertips hitting that perfect, fucking perfect spot deep inside you. Stars would dance in your vision as your mouth would open in a silent scream, unable to get anything out but a tiny wail of heavenly pleasure. You would swear you’d never felt this goddamn good in your life, like you would gladly trade everything in the whole world just to stay here forever. His pace would pick up, aiming for that spot inside of you, and he’d lap at your cunt in a feverish craze, like it was the only thing that would save him from losing his mind.

All too soon, your thighs would begin to tremble and you would feel that beautiful, familiar coil tightening and winding deep within your soul. “Miguel,” you would cry out for the whole world to hear. “Miguel, m’close, I’m so close!”

“Come on, pretty bebe,” he would say between your thighs that would try to wrap around his head in a feeble attempt to pull him closer. “Cum f’me. I want it. All of it.”

His words would send a shockwave of pleasure through you, one that would white out your vision so intensely you would have thought he’d killed you and sent you on your way to the pearly white gates, and you’d have been okay with that. He continued to work you through your orgasm, his pace slowing but never stopping, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses along your thighs, your hips, your naval.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Taking it so well, all for me. Look so pretty all laid out like this, like I could just eat you up. Would you like that, hmm? You want me to just devour you ‘til you’re left shaking and crying my name?”

“Miguel. Miguel, Miguel, Miguel…!”

“...My name’s not Miguel.”

Your eyes flashed open, suddenly brought back to the real world, pulled away from your fantasy. Through the holes in your monarch mask, you looked down to find your customer staring up at you with wide eyes and popping a boner put there by your mindless rocking against his hips. Feeling your cheeks flush, you slipped off of him and consciously tugged your outfit lower over your ass.

You pursed your lips, attempting to hide how mortified you were. “...That’s going to be another twenty bucks.”

It wasn’t until around one in the morning when you got home to your little apartment squished in a dilapidated little building wedged between two office towers because the landlord had refused to sell the place when they steamrolled the others ten years ago. The lights were off when you slipped inside, and a little piece of yourself inside wilted.

At once, you threw up a wall and dismissed that sinking feeling. Of course he wasn’t going to wait up for you. He’d had a show tonight, and he had another one tomorrow. He was tired.

Not nearly as fucking tired as you, though.

After wiping off your makeup and pulling off the fake little diamonds stuck on your temples, after changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth, and after pinning a new drawing from one of your students on the fridge despite the fact you knew they’d never see it, you tiptoed back to the cramped little bedroom. You poked your head inside. Ferris, your boyfriend of six months, was spread out across the entire mattress, snoring gently into the fabric of the crumpled sheets.

You swallowed thick. You didn’t want to disturb him. He needed his rest.

You grabbed your phone charger from the wall and your pillow from beneath his arm, then slid on your socks back into the tiny living room. Plopping yourself down on the couch and plugging in your phone, you rolled yourself onto your side and stared at the dark screen. Willing something to happen. Something to come up, someone to reach out.

Because in reality, though you would rather throw yourself off the Brooklyn Bridge than admit it… you had never felt so alone.

[the-californicationist]

he gets his revenge

Part 2 to "he comes closer and closer" -- at @numberonetastemakerwhispers request. <3

TW: explicit consent, sadism, masochism, spanking, degradation

“I know all of your hiding spots, pretty girl,” Price teased you in his low, rumbling voice, “....and I know that this one is your favorite.”

He was right, of course. But, you’d chosen this one on purpose. There was a part of you that wanted to be caught this time. You saw his bare feet pad slowly, skillful and silent, across the concrete floor of the office. You had fled to the base's reference room, and you were hiding under the microfiche machine. It wasn’t big enough to allow him in, but you could just barely squeeze through. 

“You like it because I can’t come in there after you, but...” he leaned his head down to the ground in a half-plank, snarling at you in the orange glow of the machine’s lamplight, “I have a long reach.”

You tried to dodge his hand, but he caught you by the ankle and dragged you out of your burrow like a cat does to a mouse. He flipped you over onto your stomach and shoved your body underneath his. He was still only wearing his gym shorts from before, and his dick remained soft and spent from your earlier edging. He’d asked you to play with him, to edge him, and you had. But, you may have taken it a little too far. Now, he wanted revenge and it was very much at hand. 

“John! Please. I was just doing as you asked!” He loved it when you turned helpless. You raised the register of your voice to a higher pitch, exciting his drive even further, feminizing your movements by over-exaggerating your cowering stance. Doe eyes. Just for him.

“Yeah?” He chuckled darkly, fully unrestrained in this dark office, “Call me by the name I like, love, or else…”

You pressed the first of many buttons,

“John…”

The slap that hit your ass was so hard that it made your body run cold. You couldn’t even scream. It was as if you had been a camera, and your mind had just taken a photo with the flash on. You were dazed by the stinging pain. He was upset, that much was certain. As the burn melted into a masochistic sort of pleasure, tingling out and radiating from the point of impact like a fresh sunburn, you cried out the words he wanted to hear,

“Sorry, Captain! Please…”

He purred like a lion, humming his approval as he pinned you to the dirty floor,

“That’s a good girl. Why can’t you be so good all the time? Such a fuckin’ brat. Needs her Captain to show her how to behave.”

Two more slaps stung sharply through your skin. One was to your ass cheek again, the same aching spot, but the other was to your hamstring on the back of your thigh. That one made you cry out in earnest.

“Mmm, yes. That’s what I like to hear. Sing for me, pretty girl.” 

He took both of his huge hands and smacked them down at the same time on both of your thighs. Your body tried to make sense of the feeling, and you could literally feel the wetness begin to slip out from between your folds, making your pussy lips slide together as you writhed from the pain, trying to escape his trap. 

“Ah! Please, please, Captain. I’m sorry,” you begged, knowing how much he liked it. Second button pressed, you waited for his response. 

“You will be.”

You had truly underestimated his wrath this time, and you were worried that he might actually take it too far. 

He grabbed your pants and raked them down, exposing your ass and thighs. He hummed, running his fingers lightly over the damage,

“Mm, that’s gonna be a bruise, love.”

Price slapped you hard again, just like the first one, but this time on bare skin. You felt it rattle your bones in your body, and you seized up from the pain, involuntarily trying to escape it. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You had known you’d be a crying mess after his threat to chase you down, but you hadn’t expected to cry so soon. 

He grabbed your hair and yanked your body back into a cruel arch to meet his face as he hunched over you, menacingly. Price had a glare in his eyes that made you imagine him as some sort of animal. Beastial and primal in his ruthlessness. He kissed you, awkwardly and upside-down, licking you more than truly kissing your mouth. He whispered softly into your face, a heavy contrast to the pain he was causing to your body,

“Are you wet for me, love?”

You tried to whisper out a yes, but he was pulling your neck at such an angle that only the air escaped through your gritted teeth. He understood you anyway, letting your body fall back to the floor unceremoniously.

“You are, huh? Let’s see, shall we?” He pulled your ass cheeks apart like he was breaking open a pomegranate, witnessing your plump flesh turn red from his slaps and spill its juices from your swollen lobes.

He seemed pleased, letting out a low whistle and chuckling to himself, delicately fingering your drooling hole, soft and supple, pulsing with anticipation,

“Wow… look at you. My naughty girl craves her punishment, don’t she?”

“No! No, Captain, I - ah!”

The captain used his other hand to smack you hard and fast, three times in the same spot. 

“Oh, fuck. You do like it, love. I can tell. Every time I hit this fat arse...” he slapped you again for effect. You let out a sob. He continued, “...your pretty little cunt grabs my finger and doesn’t want to let me go.” 

He was moaning now, humping his hard length on your thigh, fully erect again and extremely aroused,

“I wanna feel that with my cock, love. Green?”

Price was good about checking in, especially in the middle of a scene. He was patient, and he gave you plenty of processing time, leisurely fingering you while he waited for your consent. You sniffled, nodding,

“Yes, Captain. Green.”

He slapped you twice and left his hand on your ass to fondle it roughly, shaking it like a dog with a rabbit in its mouth. 

“Good. Now, give me what I want.” 

You were openly crying now, tears rolling down your cheeks. You peeked over your shoulder to show him your tears and to watch him push himself into you. He had his shorts rucked down to his knees and his cock in his hand, pointing it towards its target, and as he found it, you watched Price’s face twist into that familiar agony you knew so well.

Teasing him had been enlightening, and you knew that he only made that face when he was on the brink of his pleasure. You decided to press button number three, and you slammed your hips back into him, forcing his cock inside of you all at once as opposed to the controlled entry that he had planned. His eyes went wide with shock, and he looked up at you, just in time to see you hide your grin. The captain’s gaze turned sinister. 

As much as you had tried to spear yourself onto him, you’d left a few inches on the table. His first order of business was to remedy that, ramming you down to his base, stretching you far beyond what you had bargained for. Then, he began to slap you in steady, harsh, evenly-spaced beats. He chose a cheek at random, so you never knew what to expect except for more burning pain.

Each time he slapped you, you cried out, and eventually, the pain warped itself into rhythmic bliss. You could feel yourself clench around him. He wasn’t even thrusting into you, but it felt like he was since your body was squeezing him so damn hard. 

“You naughty girl,” he berated you, slurring his words, “Thinking you could rush me, trying to fuck yourself on me like a…” every word forward was punctuated by a slap of its own, each harder and more merciless than the last, “...filthy. fuckin’. slag!”

He gathered you up by your shoulders, somehow reaching into you deeper than before at your new, arched angle, and you moaned from his effort, feeling your pussy melt around him like hot wax. Price groaned too, low and slow, and you could feel his rod throb inside of you, aching to come. With your chest high, he raked up your shirt and played with your nipples messily and without aim, growling into your ear,

“Such a good little slut for me. Always so goddamn starved for my bloody fuckin’ rod, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied obediently, making sure to put a high-pitched whine on it for his benefit, and for yours.

Price began to thrust into you now, no less cruelly than his hand had treated you, hard and deep, bullying your womb with his fleshy, swollen head. 

“Mmm. Every time you pulse around me, it makes me want to come in you. Makes me mad with it. I imagine how it feels while I watch you on base, sittin’ in your fuckin’ uniform, listenin’ to my bloody briefings, starin’ at me all hungry like. Arghh!” He slapped you again and sighed contentedly, “I get so. bloody. hard.”

“Ah! Captain, please…” He was too deep. It was as if you could feel him in your throat. If you swallowed, you thought the spit would soak his cockhead. 

“It’s my favorite fuckin’ thing,” he smacked you over and over, fucking you into the concrete floor, thrusting your body forward with his massive weight. Your nipples were raw, scraping the ground, and you tried to use your hands to catch yourself, but he was too strong. 

He shuddered, shouting with a gravelly resonance, still slamming himself into you, pushing through his orgasm, and you felt him spilling into you, warmer than usual. It felt like he had poured hot caramel into your walls and was stirring it up in you, frothing his cream to a bubbling, sticky mess. 

Then, he stilled. Laying on top of you, he panted harshly, trying to catch his breath. He began to kiss your neck and shoulders. Then, he gently removed himself and pulled your body into his lap, leaning against the photocopier behind him. You were draped across him, clutching his chest and neck with your hands, crying softly into his skin from your twisted joy. He used his fingers to play inside of you gently, feeling his messy come and spreading it all over your folds, massaging it into your ass cheeks, smearing it across both of your holes. 

“You okay, love?”

“Yes, sir,” you kissed his chest as it was the closest thing your mouth could reach.

“Gonna come back to my quarters tonight? We need to ice that arse. Not gonna be able to run your drills tomorrow.”

“Drills?” Your voice couldn’t hide your panic. 

He chuckled, kissing your forehead,

“I warned you, love. Don't test me.”

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