#n get fucked silly nightly

[seventeenpins]

nightly

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader word count: 1k summary: Joel is a mistake you just keep making. content/warnings: no specified Joel era so take your pick, dirty talk, literally all just smut, big dick, daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon undertones, Joel is an asshole a/n: I have been struggling to focus on writing for a minute now, but the horny gods smiled upon me and let me get this together. Praise be to @ozarkthedog for always letting me run my godforsaken ideas past you. Love you lots 💕

You can feel the wet spot on the bed against your back. Joel has you folded like a pretzel, backs of your knees resting on his sun-freckled shoulders, wrists pinned above your head and ass suspended in the air as he drills into you. A single curl bounces at his temple, separate from the rest of his hair that's plastered with sweat to his forehead.

If you make the same mistake five days in a row, can you really still call it a mistake?

He's far too old for you, and a little too mean for you, but damned if he isn't the best lay you've ever had.

Eight inches, uncut, a dick so fucking fat you can barely wrap your hand around it. You can hardly believe he's buried balls deep in you right now. That your body can even take it.

"C'mon, honey, that's it-" Joel's voice is a growl, punctuated by heavy panting, "This pretty lil gash is fuckin' droolin' baby, my own personal slip 'n slide-"

"You're a crass old man," you whine.

"I sure am, honey," he agrees with a grin, "But don't think I can't feel the way you soak me whenever I talk crass, sweetheart."

"I hate you."

He laughs, and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple and along the curve of his nose, splashing onto your cheek. Unthinkingly, you dart your tongue out to catch some of the sweat. Joel's grin turns to a smirk.

"Hate me all you like. You're the one who's come over every night this fuckin' week. Monday through Friday, baby. Hate me so much you can't get enough of daddy's big dick, huh?"

"Fuck you, you're such an asshole-"

This jab is even less effective, punctuated with a moan and a whimper.

"Sure, sweetheart, I am. But don't pretend like we don't both know--you don't have to come here at all."

He grinds against you, coarse hair rubbing against your mound as if to further his point. Pressure hits your clit just right and it's bliss. You have to fully restrain yourself to stop from howling, and even then, you let out a ragged moan.

Joel clamps a hand over your mouth and looks you dead in the eyes.

"I love those pretty sounds, baby, but remember I got neighbors? Thought you said you'd die before anyone finds out about us."

You try to roll your eyes, but he thrusts again and you're caught in another moan. The glide of his body against your clit, especially when he's stretching you out so exquisitely? It's overwhelming. You try to stay quiet, you really do.

It's not your fault though, not when Joel's fucking you silly.

Now, though, he's frustrated.

"Quiet now, settle-"

"I'm not a fucking dog, Joel, I- ahhh-" you mumble and moan between his fingers, barely muffled at all.

"Oh really? Not a fucking dog? Wanna tell me then why you're tryna get bred like a bitch in heat?"

He smacks your cheek, drawing out another pathetic whine that only seems to cement his point.

He sneers. "Those pretty lil noises you're makin' for me? That don't sound like a good girl. That sounds to me like a nasty fuckin' slut who can't help but keep her legs spread so her daddy can fill her up good. Huh? C'mon baby. Tell me to cum inside."

"Fuck you Joel."

Suddenly, cruelly, he stops. Ceases any movement. Relaxes the grip on your wrists.

Panic overtakes you.

"What the fuck-?"

"Sorry sweetheart," he shakes his head, "You don't want this? You can see yourself out."

"No, I-"

You notice he's still sheathed inside you. You feel him do something, flexing his dick inside of you. Frankly, it's cheating.

"Please don't stop."

"What was that, honey?"

"Joooeeel-"

"Quit your whinin', use your words."

"Please fuck me."

"That ain't it, you know whatcha gotta say."

He starts rocking his hips gently, a slippery glide. It's not enough to stimulate. Just enough to make you want more. Need more.

The way you clench around him tells on yourself more starkly than your words ever could.

He's grinning again. "That's it, baby. You ready to admit what you need?"

"Come on, Joel."

"Cum where?"

You sigh. But you know you aren't gonna hold out any longer. He's pressing his thumb just above your clit and the glide of the motion is so fucking delicious it's hard not to buck against it.

Rut against it.

A bitch in heat.

"Fuck me, daddy-" you whine.

"You sound real pretty beggin'. Nearly got it honey. One more try?"

"Cum inside me."

"Mmmmm-" Joel groans, and the grip on your wrists tightens again. "Music to my ears, honey. Tell me where you want it?"

"Inside me, cum inside-"

"You want me to cum inside this lovely lil' pussy?"

"Please Joel-"

"That right?"

"Please cum in me, fill me up, fuck it deep-"

With that, his composure breaks and any restraint he had crumbles. Folds you deeper, fucks you deeper, pins you down and jackhammers into you.

You couldn't move, even if you wanted to, and that knowledge somehow heightens everything. It's blindingly bright, dizzyingly addictive. You barely notice the way Joel's lavishing you with praise, each deep thrust punctuated with good girl, good girl, good fucking girl-

When you cum, you feel the way his balls tighten as if in response, tipping over the edge mere moments after you. It could be romantic, finding yourselves cumming together, if there was any romance between you.

As you start to fade back down, you're able to pay attention again.

"That's it," he's praising you, and you realise his cock is still pulsing. You make to start moving, but he growls and holds you still. "That's right, sweetheart. Gotta let me fill you all the way up. Gonna make sure it takes."

Clarity starts to overtake you and you know that you've made a big fucking mistake. By the time you've come back to yourself, though, your pussy's flooded and pulsing oh so nicely, and Joel's pulling out of you. He moves into the other room and you hear him turn on the shower.

"You can let yourself out," he calls to you. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Your panties are sticky the whole way home.

[trevengersprincess]

𝒟𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒯𝒽ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈

c.w: f!reader, reader is takemichi's younger sister, thoughts/dreams are in italics and pink, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, princess), lemme know if i missed anything! xoxo

a/n: the song Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams had been stuck in my head for a while and why not write about it? Happy birthday Chifuyu also!

w.c: ~ 835

You shouldn't be thinking this way. This is your brother's best friend. But how can you not think of them? He's so cute and kind to you. He didn't see you as "Takemichi's little sister". He always saw you as Y/N. Maybe it was just because of that and maybe you didn't have feelings for him. You tried to convince yourself that but every time you see him, your cheeks flushed red from blushing. You stutter on your words. They jumble together. You can hardly form sentences. Your heart starts to race and your eyes can't stop flickering from his eyes to his lips back to his eyes. Those emerald colored eyes of his make you melt especially when he says your name.

"Y/N? You okay? You're spacing out on me." Chifuyu says as he waves a hand in front of your face. You blink a bit as your cheeks flush a dusty pink and chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Sorry just really focused and all. What else happened?" You asked before he smiled and continued on.

"Come on princess, I know you can hold out for me. Just one more please baby. I just can't get enough of you." Chifuyu whispers in your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe. You nod your head, agreeing to his words. The way he was holding you in your fantasy just felt so real. And you can only imagine what he looked like underneath those clothes. His pale smooth skin just asking to have your love bites all over them. You shake the thoughts from your head as you two arrive to your house. Takemichi had asked Chifuyu to walk you home since he was going to be busy and Takemichi doesn't like the idea of his little sister walking home by herself.

Pin me to the wall right now. I want to feel your body against mine please please! Who cares if I'm your best friend's sister! Just please just one time is all I need. His lips look so inviting, like he wants me to just kiss him until he's breathless.

"Well, thank you for walking me home, 'Fuyu, even though you did it because Takemichi asked you to. I still don't understand why if we are adults now." You said with a small laugh. He chuckled and ruffled your hair.

"Silly girl. I was the first one to agree because I wanted to. But you're welcome. I'll see you around, y/n-chan." Chifuyu said before smiling and waving as he walked away. Y/N walked into her home, leaning against her wall as she sighed. Here she was, a grown adult still fantasizing about her brother's best friend. The worst was when he wasn't around, they grew stronger and were worse. Y/N did her normal evening/nightly routine before finally going to bed.

"H-Haa~! Chifuyu please! I've been so good. No more teasing." Y/N begged as she looked up at Chifuyu. He chuckled lowly as his thrusts stayed their slow pace.

"You say that baby but I saw the way you were looking at Baji-san. You think I didn't notice?" He said softly in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. You whine as you shake your head.

"W-Wasn't like that. Please 'Fuyu. I like you, I love you and only you." You babbled as you tear up looking at him. Gasping softly, his thrusts become faster, harder. He knew you were close and so was he. Your legs were pushed up against your chest and had a clear view of your pretty cunt swallowing all of him. He groans as he feelings you tighten around him, thrusts now sounding sloppier and with no rhythm to them.

"F-Fuck cum for me princess. Cum all over this cock." Chifuyu says through a string of moans. Your gummy walls clench around him, back arching off the bed as you cream around him. Thick ropes of his seed spurt into your welcoming heat, filling you to the brim. His thrusts slow down, a mix of both yours and his cum at the base of his cock. Slowly pulling out, you’re breathing heavily and your mixed cum pools out onto the bedsheets. He stares at you, sprawled out on the bed, hair fanning out behind you and some sticking to your forehead. Your cheeks flushed red and your chest rises up and down from the intensity of your orgasm. He hovers over you leaning down and capturing your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

"I love you too, princess."

Your body jolts up in the bed, sweat dripping down from your temple. You look around and notice you're in your own bedroom. The clock beside you reads 1:30 a.m. and it hits you. It was all a dream. Your dirty thoughts. It all felt so real. Maybe you should just confess to him. Who knows, maybe he's having the same thoughts as you but feels wrong as you are his best friend's little sister.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @nyxe9206 @yourefavsakura special tags :)) : @bakubunny @tetta-kissaki

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[xerotiny]

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our Precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day (Our Precious #6)

M.list | Previous | Next

Pairing(s): main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning: smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you’re uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags.

Gist: it’s the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your “boyfriends”.

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13 @solisyeah

Total Word Count: n/a

Part Three [6.3]: That's a Long Stretch

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader (ft. Choi San, Jung Wooyoung, Song Mingi)

Warning: dom!yunho, sub!reader, fingering, size training, spit play, degradation, dirty talk, frottage (non-penetrative sex), etc.

Song Rec: Cloud9 by Alex Lustig ft. Makk Mikkael, Night After Night by Black Atlass

Gist: Yunho's and Mingi's blow up ruins the peace of your evening, what's even more disturbing is that they're feuding over you. The aftermath of their altercation leads to Yunho fucking out his frustration on you.

Word Count: 12,347

           "Fuck, marry, kill," you drag your words to the point of slurring them with enthusiasm and tease.

"Alright, but what are my options?" San mumbles.

"Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho," you mutter the bits, clasping your teeth on your lower lip to prevent any further noises slipping off your tongue.

"What in the fuck—these options are skewed," San whines, narrowing his eyes on you. "But gun to my head, fuck Jongho, marry Yeosang, and kill Wooyoung."

You mimic a pesky gasp, "you'd kill your boyfriend?"

"We're not dating," San deadpans, fingers pressing along your calves. "In the current times, we would probably go by some silly term—oh, like fuck buddies."

"Does he know that?" you pace your words slow, taking in the slightly twitch on his face as you mention it.

San begins with a little shrug, "One might argue that I may—okay, you're so irrelevant right now. I thought we were playing twenty-one questions." as his voice raises at you, he rolls his eyes and lets a curl tug at his lips. "It's my turn now, isn't it?"

"I guess," you shrug your shoulders and lean back onto the armrest of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

You hear San musing in mere mumbles before he speaks up, "who in our loft, given the opportunity, would you be interested in dating or getting serious with?"

"We're not in middle school, San," you joke, slightly raising your head to meet his eyes, which were fixed on you. "You already know it, don't you?" you mutter monotonously, groaning, "geez, you just want me to say it out loud." 

"Accept it, Angel," he gushes, his dimples popping on his cheeks, "you like him. You turn into a sixteen-year-old when he's around you."

"I so do not."

You pout and look away; the alluring haze of sunset shines over every surface in the living room, including your phone kept on the coffee table. Spending your evening with San was never on your bingo card, but when every other person in the house had gone out to carry on with their nightly plans, you had no choice. San worked as a bartender at a local bar, he had no where to be until the dawn of the night. So, he was the only one keeping you company. Though, you weren't exactly alone with him; Wooyoung was cooped up in his room, his and San's room, but whatever, he had locked himself in and no one knew what he was doing.

To tally your thoughts, it was you, San and Wooyoung in the loft. Touché. You weren't familiar with San, and him suggesting a game of twenty one questions, wasn't a bad idea. It was actually helping you two to bond with each other. In much more sterner perspective, you couldn't really get Yeosang and your's session out of your mind; you weren't sure if it was his personality which was unforgettable or the fact that he never really got those orbs out of you. He'd be a jerk if he did it on purpose. Maybe he left them in because that was his way of punishing you. Oh, he really was a dick if that was his intention.

Every time you moved on the couch, you could feel the balls rub against each other and your walls, clenching your cunt around them to stimulate a plodding orgasm. You laid on the couch with your legs sprawled onto San's lap. Your phone buzzed with a melodic song — some random song which started playing from your liked songs playlist. The sinking sun, a much euphonic melody in the background, and San's causal touches which drifted along your calves and legs, you were living the best of your evening. Until San teased you with the question you had been dreading to answer.

"There's no harm in admitting it, Angel." San's chortle grows a notch louder, "you're not the first one to have a crush on him. Besides, he definitely likes you back."

You grow eager listening to him, almost as much as to sit up straight and wiggle your legs in his lap. "You think so?"

"He really does," he emphasises and rolls his eyes, "between us, he didn't agree to our proposition at first. You know, the whole sharing thing."

"He didn't?" you gawk, "I thought it was his own suggestion."

San's brows draw in together on his forehead and he mumbles, "just to be on the same page, we're talking about Jongho, right?"

"I mean," you look away, twirling a tendril of your hair around your finger, "Jongho is a great guy. I admire him. But..."

"I'm kidding, I know you were thinking Yunho in your head," he leans back on the couch, smirking at you. "I was talking about him anyway."

"It's just—it's something about him, you know. He drives me insane," you purr, "he'd be doing nothing, and I'd still drool over him. He will be drinking his morning coffee, and I'll be getting wet just watching him drink it."

"T-M-I Angel," San spells out, eyeing you with an amused gaze, "and on an honest note, you, my friend, are dickmatised." his lips flip into a frown, "you got dicked down by him once, and now you're obsessed. Like, his dick was so good it permanently altered your brain chemistry, forcing you to worship him."

"I hate you for being so right," you grumble, "you're absolutely right. It all makes sense, whatever you're stating. Have I really been turned into a ditz who likes to suck dicks?"

San nods, his lips casing into a soft pout, "yet I've never gotten mine sucked from you."

You roll your eyes, slumping back down on the couch, "don't ask me. After getting viciously throat fucked by Yeosang, I don't have the energy to."

"Did not asked for it, though," he mutters, sliding his fingertips along your exposed thighs; his soft touch sends shivers through your cunt, especially since you were still being tortured by the two metallic spheres snugged in there.

"How was your first time with Yeosang, by the way?" genuine curiosity crosses over his face, eyes twinkling into thin lines as his lips curve.

"Surprising, bewildering, insanely unexpected," you muse, rolling out your shoulders; you stare at the ceiling and ponder, "don't mind me, he seems very closed off, reticent even to be into those kinks. No one, not a single soul, in their wildest dreams, would imagine him as someone who dabbles in sadomasochism."

"The quiet ones are always freaky."

You retort, "Wooyoung is freaky. And he's not even quiet."

"My theory can be flawed." He shrugs and slides his hands further up on your inner thighs.

It was not a good idea to wear a skirt. After your "little" session with Yeosang, you got back to your room and changed into your clothes; Yeosang's sweatshirt was kept in your closet, with neat folds and the whiff of his scent mixed with yours. You grabbed whatever you could from your closet, and it turned out to be this outfit: a simple oversized graphic tee, and a plaid skirt. Laziness got the worst of you, so you didn't bother diving back in for better clothing options. Besides, you were beyond lethargic, feeling spent and tired after your affair with Yeosang, to plan your outfit.

When the lunchtime rolled around, Jongho invited you over to his room with the promise of Chinese takeout. So, you spent the lunchtime in his room, the one he shared with Mingi; you ate, watched a random chick-flick movie and halfway through it you started making out with him. Things did not escalate further as Seonghwa barged in and asked Jongho to accompany him to the gym. And so, your boredom drenched evening kicked off. Eventually, it was only you, San and Wooyoung in the apartment. Everyone else had gone out to do their usual routine of a weekend night; Hongjoong was busy at his boutique, Seonghwa went to meet his work colleagues at a restaurant, Jongho was forced outdoors to a frat party by his college friends, and Yeosang said he had to meet a prospect client for some design work. You had no idea where Mingi and Yunho were, though. And their absence was too loud in the loft. Besides, you were even bewildered to know Yeosang, the man who never really left the loft, had gone out to a buzzing cafe at night.

Pouting, you sulked on the couch, with a random book in your hand from your reading heap, and waited around to catch anyone's attention. And you caught San's attention. He found you listlessly lying on the couch, the book in your hand strewn across the coffee table and your phone blasting some songs he had never heard of before. Looking at him and taking a note of his outfit, which by the way, was a simple sweatshirt and joggers, you could tell he had no plans of leaving the apartment any sooner. So, as time ran past its end, you and San got together on the couch and played the very austere game of twenty questions to get to know each other better.

"Well, but I agree. Looks can be deceiving—what are you doing?" you whimper, noticing the warmth of his fingers ascend along your inner thigh and closer to your dripping cunt. 

San simply offers you a halfhearted shrug of his shoulders and continues with his ministrations; his fingers trace in straight lines, dipping into your flesh as they tickle your skin. Sitting up straight to your own desperate whims, you catch him with a mischievous smirk across his face. You want to squirm away from his touch but being pushed to your utmost limit on your satisfaction, you stay in place and let him do as he pleases. Some part of you was eager to know how it would unfold. Untamed by your avidity, you wrap one of your hands around his wrist and give him a nudge. A gentle push to have his fingertips graze your wet cunt; you whimper at the soft caress which soon delves into an aggressive stroke of all his fingers.

"You're really wet, sunshine," he mutters under his breath, his eyes fixed on your face. "Let me guess, Yeosang?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, nodding your head lightly, "he—he kept them in..."

San hauls a gentle titter before shifting himself in his place to turn himself around, facing you with an absolute haughty grin. "And you did not take them out because?"

Your body shudders, "because I know he'd punish me for it. And that he's a jerk—he's a jerk behind the whole innocent facade."

A wrinkle in time bubbles out your desperation and San pulls you close to him by your waist; his other hand stays in between your legs, drawling out delicate brushes of his fingers. Halfway propped up against his lap, your legs are folded from your knees while you angle your back in a way to give him better access. He has you trembling under his touch. Willing to the oncoming consequences, you spread your legs wider. The sight in front of him was a sheer delicacy to feast on; your wet panties, showing off the dark patch in the centre and how flimsy material was to wrap around your folds, defining them. Your skirt furls around your waist, fluttering down as San continues to palm your mound through your wet panties.

Tears well in your eyes, ready to pour out any given minute as it becomes too much for you to handle; it reels you back to Yeosang's room, how desperately you were getting aroused, courtesy to the balls he had stuffed in you. You peek at San, lower lip lolling on your chin, and wrap your hand around his neck to pull him in. He hesitates a little when your lips meet his, lapping up and teeth tugging at his lower lip. San continues to rub you through your panties, grumbling into the kiss as his other hand rests gentle on the side of your waist. Starved in lust, you devour his lips, pressing the kiss further into a hot and heavy make out. You pull back only a little to drag your tongue along his chin and up into his parted mouth; his warmth forces you into a frenzy of desperation, your tongue slithering with his and lapping up against every cranny in his mouth.

You start rolling your hips into his hand, wanting more of the heavenly friction his fingers offered. "Fuck, San. Your fingers feel so good."

"Hmmm," he moans softly, and paces the grinds of his fingertips in a placid manner, teasing out your arousal.

Too bothered by his warm tongue wrapping yours, you let him continue with the gentle fidgeting he drawls on to move your panties to the side. You straighten your back and withdraw your tongue from of his mouth; spit glimmers against his tanned skin, it covers up an inch till his chin, more of it dribbling down his lips. Tightening your fingers in the tuft of his hair which sits neatly on the nape of his neck, you push yourself back into the kiss. This time you roll out your tongue over his lips, prompting him to do the same. Both of your tongues tangle into each other, spit drooling down your chins and lips. San pushes the tips of his fingers along your slit, having finally gotten your panties to the side. Your gummy walls clench around the balls, while his forefinger brushes against the nifty chain dangling from your hole. Pulling back and disentangling your tongues, you peer at him with your teary eyes. You wanted to guilt trip him into taking the balls out of you; it was starting to get painful, teasingly painful. For once and for all, you wanted to achieve the high of your release without having been put through the torment.

"Take—take it out, San. Please." you plead with sheer despair, inching your hips forward for his finger to slide up and down your slit.

San grunts through his chest, "I can't—I can't help you, sunshine. Yeosang might discipline both of us, if I do, and he won't be gentle, not at all."

"But—"

"—I know, sunshine. I know," he smiles pitifully and leans in with his tongue sticking out; you pout and roll yours out as well, lapping it up with his until you wrap your lips around his tongue and give it a good suck.

Amidst the heated pleasure, San's forefinger and middle finger prod at your hole, slipping in with ease because you were beyond aroused; your wetness had coated every inch of your folds, making it convenient for him to slide his digits in. When his fingers curl inside you, alongside the snug little orbs, you hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself straight. Nails digging into his skin through his sweatshirt, make you realise how riled you were. Your lips are still wrapped around his tongue and eventually the kiss dwindles to soft suckles of each other's tongues. Squeezing San's shoulders in between your hands, you throw your head back and arch your neck. San takes it as an opportunity to dip his head in and trace light kisses up your throat and then gradually under your jaw. His fingers pushed and pulled, the tips grazing against the balls to stuff them deep in you.

"San, don't stop. Go deep—"

Thud!

"How many times have I asked you not to go there?" a loud voice booms through the vestibule after the door is slammed shut. The mere vibrations echo out to you, startling you and San with the sudden intrusion.

Flinching away from each other, you and San exchange wide eyed gaze before another voice yells back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I didn't take your permission before going to meet my girlfriend!"

At this point, you both knew the row between the friends had gotten heated, both sounding too frustrated for any good. You always took Yunho for a soft-spoken guy, the kind who would never raise his voice at anyone; although, you couldn't say the same for Mingi, you always assumed he'd be loud enough in arguments. Unfortunately, you couldn't have been more wrong about your baseless judgements. Yunho's voice was the most prominent one, a little high pitch underlining his coarse and raspy baritone. On the other hand, Mingi muffled his words because of his sonorous voice.

"Are you being fucking serious right now, Mingi?!" Yunho yells, the sound too boisterous for you two.

San ceases the movement of his fingers and pulls his hand away from you; footsteps get heavy, ascending your way. You're shushed by San, his finger on pressing your lips before you could vocalise your concerns. The pair shuffles in, however lost in their own squabble to notice your presence in the living room. Eyes wide and mind in the state of bemusement, you watch Yunho bite down on his lower lip as he storms into the kitchen, Mingi following right behind.

San brings his hand around yours from your lips, tugging on it gently to get your attention, "you do not want to be in this crossfire."

Prompting you by your hand, San drags you from the couch and you willingly follow him upstairs; the two of you hadn't been under the light for Mingi or Yunho to realise you were there. Maybe, they were too fixated on their fiendish disputation to notice anything around them. Your feet are soft on the stairs, preventing any creaking or sounds to usher the two of your presence; San halts himself at the top of the stairs and so do you. There had been an undying urge in you to listen to their stentorian argument, so you acted on your curiosity and leaned against San, both peering into the living room to catch a glimpse of the two hotheads.

"And what, you don't get to derogate me while being a fucking hypocrite!" Mingi squalls.

Yunho retorts with a belittling laugh, "at least that's better than fucking around with a bitch who has no affection for me."

"Keep Lani out of this," Mingi lowers his voice, but it's almost threatening, "I haven't dragged Angel into this. Not yet."

"And dare if you do," Yunho replies, "unlike Lani, Angel has some standards."

"Yeah, I'm sure that whore does."

"What did you say?" Yunho retaliates, his voice booming loud against the four walls.

"Nothing," Mingi sternly replies.

Silence befalls, taking you off guard; you turn to San and whisper with a pout, "what is happening?"

You wanted to voice your concerns you still had the chance to.

"It's one of those times," he mumbles, "they both get too worked up over minor matters. And I don't need to tell you bout this one, do I?"

"Yeah, I got the gist of it from their colourful language, but why me?"

San shrugs, "you know, they both can be really stubborn when it comes to someone..." He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around your waist, "someone they, ummm, care for."

"Oh..." you trail off, latching yourself onto San's arm and leaning forward to get a good listen to what was happening downstairs, "but it's not like I'm purposely trying to wedge a fight between them."

San takes a deep breath, heaving it out with partial unease as you push your chest into his arms; your tits smush up against his bicep, the fleshy sensation flustering him to the point where you peek up at him unknowingly and find his cheeks in the prettiest shade of red. He's timid and shy, probably not the kind of guy to initiate anything; even if he does, he will weigh all the consequences in his mind and hesitate to act on his feelings. Though, you're disgruntled by Yunho's and Mingi's argument. It was clear you were the centre topic of their altercation. You had no such intentions however.

"Right—right, you are not. But—"

"—fucking watch your mouth, Mingi" Yunho grunts, disrupting San's sleek words. "Agreed, you and Angel don't get along, though that doesn't mean you'd talk about her in such a vile manner."

"Weren't you talking shit bout Lani before I brought her into this?" Mingi's words reverberate densely in the air, percolating within the dead space, "so it's okay for you to run your mouth but I can't? And the validity of your opinions and judgments is only biased towards me, isn't it? I can't talk about Angel to you because you like—"

"—It doesn't matter. And you're wrong, so wrong. If you're going with that theory, shouldn't I question your affection for Lani too? I'm sure I'm justifying myself well." you could hear Yunho scoff, the disbelief clearly evident. "I don't know what it is that makes my gut twist this way, but I do not trust Lani one bit. Every time I hear about her from you, or from anyone else for that matter, my stomach does a wretched flip, and I don't feel good in my bones. Not at all." There's a pause between his words, as if he was measuring the degree of anguish his speech could cause to Mingi...

In a complete distraught segment of your mind, you were focused on the way San's arm was slotted between your tits and his palm was profusely ghosting its touch along your cunt through the skirt. This might be an off putting notion to many, but the slightly raised voices of Yunho and Mingi were turning you on; had you always have had such kink? Or did it come alive after listening to Yunho defend you with his coarse and rugged vocals? Probably yeah.

You heave out a hot breath, fanning it against San's shoulder when you lean in, almost throwing yourself onto his side. San is taken back, surprised to find you riled over the insistent bickering between the two best friends. Still, as his cock strains in his sweatpants a little tighter, he goes along with it. The nifty touches his fingers cascade through the hem of your skirt and trace under. His fingertips prod against your drenched folds, the flimsy material of panties clinging too close to your skin; he rubs his finger pads along the slit, pressing them harder with each rub.

"San," you mewl, desperate for him to yank out the balls snug in your cunt. "Please, please, please. Take them out."

San breathes in sharp, succumbing to your whines and desperation; but he knows better than to act on his commiseration. "Angel..."

He spells out your name in a delicate haze, almost rupturing every syllable with a yearning of his own. You look up at him, tears swelling in the corners and lower lip jutting out. It could be possible that you were really close to crying. Only if Yeosang was there to see it, after all he finds it pleasurable and delightful when he sees a pretty woman cry. Regardless of your sentiments having affixed on Yeosang, you couldn't resist whining under your breath again, teary eyes glimmering at the man in front of you.

"Please—"

Crash!

The twinkling noise of glass shattering fills up the space between you and San. Perhaps you were on edge when you flinched away from San and grappled holding onto him. To your knowledge, the latter had been taken off guard as well, it was clearly etched on his face and raised eyebrows. Before the two of you could speak up, a door swings open and a high pitched voice comes booming out.

"What's happening...." Wooyoung's eyes go wide for a mere second as his attention rakes over you two and his words die in his throat, "downstairs? If you two are here...who's downstairs?" he whispers, stepping out from behind the door and into the hallway. 

You take a minute to notice him; wet hair (almost), and a silk robe around his body. He must've taken a shower. You thought. With gradual steps ahead, he comes to stand in front of you, arms folded over his chest. The robe slips from his shoulder, only enough to give you a glimpse of his chest and the left pec; besides, a swirl of black peeks from underneath. A tattoo? Perhaps.

"Mingi and Yunho," San spells out in his hushed voice, "they're—arguing. A feud. Or whatever. Lani and Angel are involved."

"Oh, I get it." Wooyoung nods in acknowledgment, focus shifting on you, "are you two eavesdropping on them? Cause if my memory serves me right, weren't you two in the living room as well?"

You clear your throat, scuttling away from San by a step, "your memory is sharp. We had to get out of there before the place blew up. That is all."

"That is all?" his lips curve into a smirk, gaze following a straight line to San's pants, "it seems to me, by me I mean by an outside perspective, that you two had your minds set on fucking each other in this very hallway."

"No—"

Your heart drops into your gut; not because Wooyoung had spoken your mind but because you could hear ascending footsteps speeding up the stairs. All of three of you split in a fraction of second, scurrying into your respective rooms. Wooyoung and San were in theirs and you were in yours, back pressed up against the door the moment you closed it behind you. The same heavy and lurking footsteps follow, paddling further down the hallway. You held your breath till you heard a door close thud. It was Mingi. Doesn't require a lot of thought to know who it was. And guessing from Mingi's deliberate storm off, you are sure Yunho would follow him to his room.

That's what you thought.

When you take a minute to compose yourself and step away from the door, you hear the doorknob rattle ever so gently before the door flings open inside and in marches Yunho. Your head spins in its place, wondering how you were pushed up against the door while being entangled in his arms. Time doesn't know its bounds; trapped by his body, you're pushed back into the hard door, and his arms are around your waist, his lips on yours.

How did it happen? Everything's a blur.

The kiss isn't gentle or passionate as it should be, it is rather aggressive and impatient; this isn't how you know Yunho kisses, he's typically slow and likes it sloppy. His kisses give you enough time to adjust to his roughness and warmth. You couldn't say it for this one. Not when he had already shoved his tongue down your throat. Easing yourself against the door, you slant your body along his and grab onto his shoulders to support yourself. He already has his tight grasp on your waist to keep you steady to his ministrations; how sternly he prodded his tongue beyond yours and suffocated you with it.

You want to shove him off. But at the same time, you want to pull him closer to you. You want to feel every inch of his body against yours. Yunho grunts, the mellowed out vibrations strumming through your mouth and heading straight to your pussy; as if the metal orbs weren't enough to stimulate your release. Your arousal drips through your panties, drenching them fully. Hearing little crinkles of his beaded bracelets and necklace, you're left to take a breath of fresh air when he pulls back, his tongue slithers out of your mouth, spit coating every bit of his lips and yours too. Translucent strings of saliva connect your lips to his, falling out in perfect curves till he's leaning back in to abuse your mouth. It took one snap in the dense air between you, for his eyes to lose their light before he began sucking your lips. His tongue is back in your mouth and you don't hesitate, you let him in instead, letting him use his tongue to rile you up.

The warmth of his hands cups your face, chilling up every bone in your body when he bucks his hips into yours; there it was, the warning ache in your lower belly. You were close. So close. The stimulation was overbearing at this point. First, Yeosang's sadistic little sex toy bothered you, then it was San who couldn't ease out his temptation to rub you out, and now it's Yunho, eventually grinding his hips into yours. You have your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hoping he'd let go of you. He doesn't. His tongue drags across every corner in your mouth, over and under your teeth, before plunging deep in your throat; your moans and whimpers are muffled, purposely by him. You were voicing out your protests, but there was no use, was there?

Shushed by his lips on yours, a meagre second breaks apart the littlest serenity in your body; weak and feeble, the astonishment of being weightless catches up with you. Your back slams against the wall where the futon is situated and he is all over you, pushing you into it, trapping you under him. His hands sear their touch on your waist, keeping you confined in one place as he continues to do what he had been doing. The ache dissipates almost immediately due to Yunho's warmth enclosing your face and body, rapturing your senses beyond your perception of pain. Your hands slide up his shoulders, fingertips tickling the sides of his neck, as soft as they could, before tangling them in his seemingly frail faded blue locks. Earning a grunt, reviving from the back of his throat, you moan and he pulls you into his body. The push and pull was inexplicably agonising; you were all into the roughness Yunho had to offer, but wasn't this too much?

And perhaps, your desperation to feel every ounce of pleasure slashed out your rationality, but you were definitely aware of Yunho's aggressiveness slipping up every limit your body could endure. Even if it was only kissing, and toying with your body as if you were a mere puppet on strings for him, you had your spine bracing with perturbation.

You're out of breath, yet choose to make no effort to push him off you. His lips are devouring yours, as if he were made to starve for the entire day; though, all the noises of your mind are silenced by his tongue, rubbing in the farthest corner of your mouth, almost touching your hanging uvula. It triggers your gag reflex, and when he find you twitching because of it, he pulls his tongue back to yours, toying with it to satisfy himself. You were struggling beneath him, preventing yourself from crying because your desires were getting pent up in your chest. It'd be one thing to get teased, but it's another when you're overly stimulated by him and the sex toy Yeosang chose to keep in you. His breath tangles with yours when he breaks off the hungry kiss and wrings his tongue of your mouth; he seemed absolutely ethereal, a little maniacal with the red in his eyes, but besides that, he appeared too fuckable to you. Red and plump lips, a sheer coat of spit covering them and chin, and the drool which dribbled down. You were tempted to act on your inhibitions, wanting to touch him in ways you had only imagined before.

"Oh fuck," he grumbles under his breath, watching your pant and have your chest collide into his. "Fuck, princess..." the probable incoherence is due to him having his chest convulse the way you do, yet he scours his sound and smirks lightly, "I am—I am sorry in advance. But I'm not going—I'm not going easy on you."

With that, he's reeling back in to taste your lips on his. The kiss wild, manic-frantic, almost too devious for you to keep up with him. He drops his hands from your waist and slides one them under your skirt, skipping across your thighs to your drenched panties. You didn't think he'd be gentle with you, and he really wasn't; you gasp into his mouth when his fingertips nudge against your dripping cunt. The pads of his long and sleek fingers rub you off, going up and down your drenched panties. He heaves a guttural moan, rumbling deep within his chest when he finds how wet you were. He knows there had to be a catch.

"Princess, why the fuck are you so wet?" he mumbles against your lips, "my little whore of a princess likes it when I get rough, doesn't she? Prefers to be manhandled." He chuckles softly, "and a little body like hers can't tolerate my strength, can it? Hmm, such a good little slut, taking everything without protesting."

You had no sense for self; responding to him felt like a task, and nodding wasn't possible since his lips had trapped yours again, constricting any movement of your head. He wasn't partly wrong however. Ever since he barged into your room and began afflicting himself on you, your body had reacted differently—you liked being tossed around like a mere toy, you liked how rough his lips were getting every passing second, you fucking loved it when he pushed you on the futon and trapped you there. Nonetheless, you were losing your mind when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and slithered right in.

"Ah, is this why..." his words are caught in his throat you clasp down on his lower lip, teeth sinking deep into the flesh.

He had just touched the dainty chain dangling out of your cunt, the one which adhered the orbs together. Yunho's fingers curl around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it out, alongside the orbs. Your walls clench around nothing, leaving you empty. Odd. You felt discomfort creeping up your spine without having anything in your cunt to keep you bulged out, or even to stimulate your release anymore. Yunho lets a dark titter pass his lips, pulling back from the kiss and resting his forehead on yours; he brings his hand out of your skirt, holding the balls in a pinch, swaying them in front of your face.

"Fucking hell, my princess is such a naughty little whore," he states, lips structuring into a mischievous curve, "wanted to cum without having a cock inside that tight little thing of hers, did she?"

You shake your head lightly, nibbling on your lower lip; you were unable to make a sound, or utter what had been clouding your mind.

"Too speechless are we?" he breathes out.

Without thinking much, he tosses the chain of balls to the side and the sound of them rolling down breaks him out of his head. He dives back into the kiss, ferociously devouring your lips, sating his inner thirst; you go along with it, giving yourself to him completely. Yunho's aggression was only pleasant till you were stimulated by the kegel balls Yeosang had left in you. By the time his lips were back on yours, an unknown discomfort started settling deep within your gut. So far, you were bearing Yunho's bellicose attention. It was all fun and games until he shoves one finger into your puckering cunt; your hole eagerly invites his forefinger in, all the slick helping it to delve deeper inside.

You mewl, breathing hard and screwing your eyes shut. "Fuck—fuck too much, Yun..."

The feeling wasn't unpleasant, but your gut kept twisting and knotting in itself to indicate you something was off-putting. He increases his pace, exerting pressure on your clenching walls, causing a sharp ache to run down your spine. You throw your head back, hitting the wall in the process as his body pushes into you; with his head buried in the crook of your neck, he starts sucking and biting on your flesh, creating purple bruises across your skin. Tremors spread throughout your body, making you spasm as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to stable yourself. He didn't pace the thrust of his fingers steadily, regardless, he even added another one; his middle finger and forefinger plunged in and out of you, curling and brushing against your sensitive spot.

Yunho's far gone. He's too distrait to perceive your pained groans, or even your feeble attempts to push him off. The pique of arguing with his best friend was clearly evident in the way his fingers moved inside of you. You let out a gasp when his teeth sink in that one particular spot on your neck and your hands reach into his hair to nudge his head away from you.

"Yunho!" you scream, "stop."

And maybe it was for your amplified voice that he pulled himself back into his senses, snapping cruelly against the reality. Realisation settles deep within his gut, straying him off the spiteful ire and aggression he was caught in. His movements are dawdling thereafter.

"I'm so sorry..." he tries to reason with himself, his conscience breaking down his pugnacity.

Guilt plucks at his heart strings and he pushes himself off of you, eventually dragging himself away from to the edge of the futon. He sits slouched, head hanging low and his breathing ragged. You take a moment to compose yourself, conflicted on your thoughts. Do you comfort him? Do you ask him what's wrong? Do you nullify his behaviour and pretend everything was normal between you two?

Silence consumes every wrinkle of time, dragging both of you down with it, down into your unnecessary inhibitions and sentiments. Still stuck in a dilemma, you kept glancing at him, unsure and hesitant to approach him. It must've been more than an hour since you two had dwindled past the incident. Yunho sat still, rethinking, overthinking, letting everything overwhelm him. There must be a reason why he hadn't uttered anything for the past hour. Maybe his guilt wasn't letting him speak. Maybe he's self aware to realise his mistakes. You couldn't put your finger on it. Leaning back against the wall, your arms wrapped around your chest, and your eyes stuck to him like glue, you really pondered whether you should be the first one to make a sound or not. Maybe you should.

"Hey—"

"—don't," you squeak only to be interrupted by him with a growl. "Don't try to make me feel better about what I did."

You press your lips together, "I don't know what to say, to be honest."

"You don't have to say anything," his head falls further down, his shoulders rolling up, "don't worry, I'll leave."

"Stay," you mumble, crawling towards him by the edge, "please stay."

"Angel, don't let me guilt trip you into doing something you don't want to," he states, as firmly as he could, his voice deep with certain degree of crack at the end.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his chest from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder; you peek over, wanting to catch a glimpse of the sullen man. "You're not guilt tripping me into comforting you."

Yunho sighs, tracing his hands onto yours and given them a light squeeze. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

You nod, "I did."

His eyes lurk onto yours, lower lip puckering out. "We're not—I can't justify myself. Or even that argument."

"You really don't have to." You reply, "I'm not asking for a reason." Biting your tongue, you sigh, "you should confide in me, Yunho. Get it out of your head. I'm here to listen."

A quiet minute drags on, forcing you to take the matters in your hand. You slip away from behind him, carefully pulling yourself into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. Softly tugging his chin up with your dainty fingers, you make him face you, your other hand on his shoulder. There's meagre light in his eyes, shrouded by dense dark of his brown specks. You're not sure what he hides beneath it, what he was thinking, what he had been thinking. His lips push out to a pout, hands instinctively wrapping on either side of your waist.

"Angel, you don't have to do this." His voice is delicate and bleak as he groans.

"I feel like I have to," you bring both of your hands to cup his cheeks, staring deep into his eyes to decipher the lost meaning in them. "It's not an obligation, I don't feel obligated to. Though, I believe we should talk about it rather than sweeping it under the rug."

Yunho heaves out a heavy breath, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin and lips trembling to speak. "Fine," he mutters, clearing his throat to speak much firmer than before, "I lost control. Couldn't tame the frustration in my head and it all had to come out on you instead."

You hear the guilt in his tone, watch it flash across his face when he looks away from you. He continues, "we have an arrangement, I'm aware. Should it compel you to do something you're not comfortable with? No. You don't have to. You could've shoved me off the moment I pinned you against that door. You should've hit me, punched me, slapped me even..." he trails off, catching up on the murmurs of your sniffle, "...hey, I'm not trying to blame it on you. I'm trying to tell you what you could've done instead of going along with me."

You let his words sink in; the farthest corner of your mind replayed the moment where you could've pushed him off of you, but you didn't. Why didn't you? Did a sick part of you enjoy it a little too much to act on it? Had you pushed him off, would he have not felt as guilty as he is now? Were you blaming yourself? You sure were. Was there any point in it? Nope. Not at all.

"Talk to me," he coaxes you with a soft voice, hands tugging on your waist, "it scares me how quiet you are. Please, say something."

You hadn't realised how long were you quiet for, but the desperation in his eyes told you were biting your tongue for quite a while. You shake your head, and let your hands drop to his shoulders, clinging onto him.

"Yunho," you speak up, yet your voice barely reaches him, "I don't..."

"What is it, hmm?" he hums, resting his forehead on yours.

"I think I know why you were so angry," you mumble, sliding your hands on his chest, "but hearing you and Mingi argue over me, kind of turned me on."

You blurted out the one thing you never wanted to. Now, you were terrified to know how he'd react to the piece of information you just passed on. Maybe he'd be disgusted? He'd think you are a freak who...or maybe he'll just want to stop seeing you. Okay, we should put an end to your overthinking state of mind at the moment.

"What?" he chuckles, "oh princess. You did not just say that."

"It's the truth," you retort, "when you were growling at Mingi, trying to defend me, that was hot."

"Really?" he teases you, his hands falling down to your ass, caressing it in his big palms. "And here I was silly to think you wouldn't like that part of me. Tell me princess, do you like it when I get angry?"

Your cheeks turn red at the malicious tone he was using, stressing his words with a seductive voice.

"Yeah, I do." Senses clouded by lust, you give into your inhibitions, wanting nothing more than to be railed by him in the exact moment. Though, this time, a tinge of rationality clutches your dubious desires and makes you squeak, "but, why were you so mad for? What did Mingi do?"

Yunho snickers, sighing out adamantly, "don't act coy, princess. You heard him, didn't you? He called you a whore."

"So?" he cocks his brow at you, "would I let his judgement ruin my mood? Not really. Perhaps, not at all."

Yunho sighs yet again, "are you implying I overreacted to his comment?"

"I'm sure he only wanted to get a reaction out of you," you shrug, tightening your arms around his shoulders and pushing yourself into his chest, "honestly, you two were being hotheads for nothing."

"You don't know that!" Yunho retaliates with a half-hearted whine, his eyes meet yours and he sighs, "look, Mingi's girlfriend and I don't get along. Never have, in fact. And I don't see any brighter lights for the future too."

You ponder on his words and hum, "well, your resentment has to start somewhere, right? You can't just up and hate someone without a reason."

"I think I have a pretty damn good reason to not like her," he murmurs, squeezing your asscheeks, "well, it started when Mingi pitched the idea of going on a double date. We had just started dating these girls from our school and I thought why not?" he licks his lower lip, "I met Lani for the first time then, she was bearable at the least, for the time being. Then as days passed, certain qualities about her began to strike me as insufferable."

"Insufferable?" you repeat, emphasising on your astonishment.

"In a way, yes." He breathes out, seemingly frustrated at the thought, "she only acts affectionate towards Mingi when she needs his help or money. Other times she's surly and distant from him. Wouldn't that annoy anyone?" sighing, he channels his ire out through a breath and peeks up at you, his eyes darker than before, "it annoys me. A relationship is a two way street. You can't expect—well never mind."

You press your lips together and suppress your voice, not understanding what to speak of in this situation. You obviously did not want to add fuel to the already burning and scorching flames; it really does seem that Yunho despises his friend's girlfriend more than anyone else.

"Yes, relationship is a two way street," you agree, gently cupping his face with your hands. The soft touch, he leans in to, causes for your heart to skip a beat. "I'm not saying it just for the sake, but come to think about it. Mingi is a grown up, he surely knows what's going on with him and his girlfriend. Maybe he chooses to not believe it because it's better that way. We all tend to blur out the truth when the lie seems sweet enough to be true."

"But do you not think..." Yunho trails off, his gaze lowering to your thighs wrapped around his waist. "You know, I'm not so fond of this position; I may be fixated on thinking about Mingi's situation but you're not helping with all this. You're really not a good distraction."

You click your tongue, "actually, I'm a very reliable distraction."

"Oh please," he subtly rolls his eyes, a smile stretching his lips. "Prove it."

"Right now?" you ask him wide eyed. "I thought we were setting out for a heart-to-heart talk about your problems with your boyfriend."

Yunho scoffs, "he's one of the major reasons why I need a distraction." He peers up at you, lips lolling out to a pout and his eyes glossing over show an innocent ruse. Though, after a long second, he shrugs and dismisses it off. "But it's fine if you don't want to. Your consent matters."

Not uttering a single word, you lean in and press your lips against his, your arms tightening themselves around his neck. You push yourself further into him, getting the much needed friction of your chest with his; an insatiable desire erupts from the pit of your stomach, gradually rising up until your chest. In the past, the whole of three moments you've had with Yunho, can't be compared to this one. The more your lips stayed on his, the more ravenous your desires were turning out to be. If there was any doubt in your mind, you'd have acted on it. You hadn't yet. Given the few prior instances where you were actually terrified of his demeanour.

Rolling your hips into his, you could feel his cock starting to stiffen up against your stomach as you continue to grind on him. If there's anything you know better, it's riling Yunho up; you don't even have to do much, just turn off your rationality and let your lecherous desires consume you. It doesn't come to you as a surprise, but when you do, it's like staring into a mirror. You're both very alike when it comes to expressing your sexual preferences; maybe a little too similar.

The kiss continues to dwell on both of you, rapturing your senses to the havoc it was creating in your chest and stomach. You could almost feel your guts knotting themselves through, and your stomach grumbling with an unquenchable want. Regardless of how addicted you are to his lips, and likewise, you pull back when your thoughts are rumpled away into forcing you to breathe. Though, he doesn't see it as a stop sign; Yunho buries his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your sweet spot, just right below your ear. He knows it too well now, you can't help yourself when he toys with that spot—he's too accustomed to your needs and body.

"Fuck," you whimper, pushing out the air from your lungs. "Please—please, I need you. Really—really bad."

Closing your eyes shut, and letting your lips tremble, it was one of the best things Yunho had ever experienced; your face scrunched in an uncontrolled desperation while he carried on with teasing you. His teeth sink deep into your flesh, his tongue swiping and sucking, creating those noises which sound awfully loud and blissful.

"Patience princess," he mumbles against your neck, a smirk twisting on his lips. "I don't want to hurt you like the last time."

The recollection of "that" particular moment makes your stomach flip inside out. Your first time with Yunho, as much as it was pleasant and 'fucking amazing' it was also painful. Meagrely painful. Even though there was involvement of proper aftercare, you were still bleeding for a few days after. Ever since, Yunho had been careful with you, not initiating anything with you until you said otherwise; when you had recovered though, Jongho had taken out and that was a whole thing you didn't want to reminisce about now.

"You won't, I can take you..." you whisper, tracing your fingers on his back while suddenly clutching on his leather jacket when his teeth sink further into your neck. "Hmmm, fuck..." you let out a soft moan, screwing your eyes close even tighter than before.

"There's no way you can take me without bleeding again," Yunho says, "that night, I was way over in my head and I couldn't think straight—and blame it on Seonghwa for making me jealous." He pulls back, slightly smirking with pride as he catches a faint glimpse of your skin dented with his teeth. "This time, or maybe from now on, I won't do anything unless I'm sure you can. I don't want to hurt you again."

You peer down at him through your half lidded eyes and nod your head, speaking of nothing because you know he's stubborn and won't agree to whatever you suggest.

"Fine," you breathe out, "whatever you want."

"Don't be disappointed, princess," he pouts, pinching your nose. "This will be equally...fun."

"Huh, what do you mean?" you gawp, as he starts looking around till his eyes narrow down on the full body mirror next to your futon.

"It's the same mirror, isn't it?" he asks, lips twisting to a devious smirk and it continues growing in his cheek. "I should thank this mirror, honestly. Everything started with it, after all."

You're beyond flustered as the memories come back rushing in; it was never on your list to send a very risqué photo to the stranger you had just made that day, but something made you and now here you were. Did you ever find yourself thinking you'd be living with eight men, with seven of them being so interested in you—sexually? You'd rather be caught dead than caught wondering about these things; this is what your past attitude would've made you feel.

Though in current times, it's all you can think about. Think about these men ruining you to their desires, to their own needs—this can't be healthy, but it sure has taken up every fraction of your mind. And while you're at it, there's no harm in indulging.

"Come here." Yunho shifts about on the futon in a way to face the mirror with you on his lap, your back to his chest. "I've had to do this with some of the women I had entertained. It's a standard practice. And as much as I like a tight little cunt, it is really uneasy to fuck without proper preparation first."

Listening to him, your stomach does that little flip again; you're brought to your senses when his hands slide down your waist, his fingertips grazing along your exposed skin under your skirt till your ankles. He wraps his hands around them and rubs his thumbs against the bone to keep you composed before pulling them up on his lap. The position wasn't awkward, you were resting on his chest with your legs propped on his thighs.

"Look at you," he grumbles, diving his head back into the crook of your neck and leaving gentle flutters of his lips. "So beautiful..."

You're about to close your eyes when you glance at the mirror and find yourself staring at your reflection; you were indeed beautiful—propped steady on his lap, with legs spread as he continues to abuse your neck. Soft caresses send shivers down your spine, making your body shudder when his hands slide on your knees and push your legs further apart, exposing your wet panties.

"Yes, just like that..." he grumbles again, keeping his head buried in your neck. His warm breath tickles you, causing you to fall deep within the darkness of your body and mind. "What, cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head lightly, "no, I'm trying to figure out what all this is about."

"Oh princess," he lets out a silly chuckle, "you'll see."

"Hmmm, okay," you suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes when you feel his teeth biting and nipping your skin again.

He doesn't make a sound and rather brings one of his hands up to your mouth; his fingers nudge against your lower lip and you let them part, opening your eyes to his ministrations. His forefinger and middle finger rest heavy on your lip till you slack your jaw and open your mouth wide for him; without any hesitation, he thrusts his fingers inside your mouth. Those long and sleek fingers reach to the back of your throat, even without much effort or having to slide them down. You start gaging on them the moment his fingertips hit your uvula, but holding your ground, you let him do as he pleases—coating his fingers in your spit. Thrusting his fingers inside your mouth, he gets a good amount before pulling them out and glancing over at them. They glisten under the dim lights of the room, your spit dribbles down from the top to the knuckles; making you wonder how deep he was in your mouth and how deep his fingers had managed to thrust into your throat. You let out a whimper and throw your head back, eyes still on the mirror as you catch him smirking at you. Your chest heaves erratically to what he had done, trying to calm yourself down.

"Come on, you're over dramatic." He whispers as he uses his other hand to pulls your panties out of the way. In a swift motion, he slides them off your legs and keeps them next to him on the futon. "Fuck princess, look at you, dripping already."

The same hand starts tracing up your thigh and eventually rests on your mound; two of his fingers rest perfectly against your folds and he spreads them apart, peering down at your exposed self and your pretty little clit. You breathe heavily, keeping your hands to the side and clutching the sheets tightly in them.

A moan breaks out of your chest, making you cry, "too sensitive—hmmm, fuck Yun—hmmm." You bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up, because nothing coherent would make out after this point.

Without giving you a prior warning, he had already stuffed two of his spit-covered fingers into your cunt; plumbing them deep, he curls them inside, making them brush against your fleshy walls. The squelching sounds grow loud as he thrusts them in and out at a manageable pace. You watch with your lip caught between your teeth, the reflection in the mirror showing how your cunt swallowed his fingers; it was a sight for your eyes, and also for Yunho's.

"Keep watching, princess. Dare if you let your eyes stray..." he warns you with a low grunt, his fingers increasing their pace.

That was it. The moment you fixated your eyes on the mirror, you found him staring back at you, the sleazy smile on his face helping you perceive his intentions more closely and clearly. In the following second, he starts spreading his fingers inside you, scissoring them against your walls and spreading you further apart; the stretch was blissful, so very pleasing for your body to react in this way. He was getting there; he sure was getting there.

Heat rising from your stomach, you start heaving, your chest starts heaving while your mouth parts open and stays like that; there's a scream trapped in the back of your throat, waiting to erupt from your chest with all its might as his fingers now move inside you at an alarming pace. You're so close, so close to having that knot in your stomach come undone. And as you were, his fingers slow down.

"Hmmm, you're not going to cum until I say so," he mumbles in a coarse voice, taking his fingers out of your soaking wet cunt; instead, he grabs your hands and gently rubs the back. "Keep your hands here, hmm? Give me a squeeze when it hurts."

And he's back to thrusting his two fingers inside you; but now your hands were wrapped around his wrists, tightly to give him the signal when it gets too much for you. He starts slow, only fucking the tips of his fingers in and out. This is way worse than before, the slow and mellowed out thrusts were pushing you to your edge, making your knees go weak as the knot reties itself in your stomach. The warmth starts rising again, making you sweat profusely while you have your head resting on his shoulder.

Yunho isn't staring at you anymore, his attention is focused down, on his fingers and your stretched out folds. Your mind is too lost in the conspicuous sight that you almost don't notice him spit out a wad of his saliva on his other hand. Again, he coats his two fingers in his spit, making sure they are nicely covered before tracing them lightly down to your cunt. A few little strokes of the tips against your folds, while his other fingers slow down thrusting in you, and you're losing it all over again. You had no idea what to anticipate anymore; two fingers were already in while other two toyed and pushed against a side of your folds.

"Ahhh, holy fuck..." you curse out loudly when he starts prodding his other two fingers against your cunt, pushing the tips in very gently as to not hurt you. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck....Yunho..." you mewl out with such pure passion, tightening your hands around his wrist while your nails dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent marks. "You're—ugh—too much..."

Again, without warning, he plunges his other fingers inside as well, not even giving you any time to adjust or even comprehend it properly. His fingers stretch you out so nicely, pulling apart at your walls and squelching inside with your flesh.

You're crying, well, on the verge of crying; you already have a few tears streaming down your cheeks. The way you were being stretched and held down by his weight, was too much to contain in your little head—and the knot becomes too intense in the pit of your stomach. You were indeed close, every muscle in your body twitches to let go of the tightness and you were about to when you're, out of nowhere, made feel empty and loose again. Sensing you clench around his fingers; Yunho had stopped doing whatever he was and had his fervent eyes on you through the reflection in the mirror.

"What did I tell you, princess?" his voice comes out mocking, almost; his breath hitches lightly as he continues, "you're not cumming unless I say so."

If it weren't for you holding onto his hands while his kept you occupied, you would've slipped right off his lap and landed ass first on the floor; you were no longer in the sane state of mind, it was a mush from the crippling pleasure and pain his fingers offered. You've been denied the leisure of your release twice now, and you knew it wasn't going to be the only time you would. This affliction only builds up to your restlessness, the slow paced ticking seconds only mocking you to your pique. To say, Yunho worked his fingers in you, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had nothing better to do.

Would you blame him though? He's trying his hardest not to bust his load at the given moment; he knows he's been driven past the line of his tameable threshold, and what beholds for him beyond it is something he'd rather keep it to himself. Though, unlike the times before, this one seems like a torture to him. Gone were the remnants of his altercation with Mingi, disintegrated almost. Rather, you had replaced them quite adeptly with your murmuring moans and cries. Yunho has a part of his mind fixed on his fingers, while the other domesticated the wild inside of him. The softness he holds for you, is another thing compelling him to be so gentle and lenient with you. In his own way, he too was proven weak against his dilemmas.

Noticing the pace of his fingers slack, you lean back on his shoulder and stare up at him, your eyes tearful and your cheeks tear stained. You read the strained creases between his eyebrows, his shallow breathes brushing with your cheek so lightly, and his lips trembling; his flushed cheeks, reddened ears, and his heaving chest were a sign—he was restraining himself as well. In the heat of the moment, your eyes meet and his heart skips. There's something serene and indistinct in those brown flakes, something so indecipherable. Time wrinkles to a beat of your hearts, both of you leaning in to press your lips against each other. The kiss starts slow, peaceful, almost with a feathery brush of your lips. It's when you both know you could never get enough of each other, it's when you push yourself further into him and taste him fully, from your heart.

The decadent taste of his lips is a magical touch in itself; you're left wanting more, wanting to get everything of him. He's on the same page, pushing his tongue in, thrusting it deep in while he suckles on your mouth. A soft kiss turning to a passionate session of make-out, this wasn't anything new to the either of you. Maybe, the jitteriness of what came before it, was. What exactly was it that made the both of you lean in at the same time? A miscommunication between your eyes, or a direct connection of your hearts? Those questions would remain unanswered for a while.

"Yunho, please..." you whimper against his lips, tipping your head back, pleading with your eyes. "I'm close..."

"Me too, princess." He mutters, letting his fingers slip out of you. His long sleek fingers are coated in a weird concoction of your wetness and his spit. "Fuck..."

"Let's help each other out," you enunciate between your breaths, shifting in his lap to face him while straddling him and pushing him down on the futon by his chest.

"You'll hurt yourself, princess," he mutters again, with concern this time.

You shake your head and press your index finger against his lips. "I'll be fine."

Without giving a second thought, you take your top off, leaving your upper half bare. Yunho's hands rest on the sides of your waist, stabling you while you carried on with your plan; fumbling with the button on his pants, you manage to undo them and then unzip them. From the past hour, you had his cock hard against your ass. You tug his pants down, enough to have his cock out; he was straining in his briefs, twitching lightly when you started stroking him through them.

"My my, what does my princess have in her mind?" he grins up at you, resounding his words with a chuckle.

"Shut up," you heave out in irritation, too riled up by him and too sensitive.

Using your free hand, you lift your skirt up, and keep it pinned against your waist; slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, letting it grind into your slit. You place both of your hands on his chest, giving yourself the leverage to continue the movements of your hips.

"Fuck, princess," Yunho screws his eyes shut, his hands tightening on your waist. His breathing, once again, becomes shallow and heavy, with your hips rolling onto his, with your cunt sliding profusely and with was on his cock.

The harshness of your sensitivity makes you start out slow, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, you decide to pick it up by a notch. Creases on his forehead, his squinted eyes closed shut, and his lips parting with every moan he lets out; it was all a sight full of his sensuality. That was alone enough to push you to your release, the knot coming back in the pit of your stomach immediately. It was when he mumbles out an incoherent curse, followed by a loud moan, that you lose it all and increase the pace of your movements.

Yunho cracks one of his eye open, watching you intently; you were in the same boat as him, eyes closed shut, breathing hard, and your body shuddering to every touch. He lets his lips sculpt into a small smirk, his eyes fully open and never leaving your figure. He starts to guide you along his cock by pushing and pulling on your waist, helping you; eventually, he bucks his hips up, the tip of his cock thrusting in you. A moan ruptures through your throat and chest, your eyes fluttering open to look down at him with tears welling up in the corners.

"Good god, princess, I'm really close." he whispers, "so close—I can't hold it in anymore."

He throws his head back in the mattress, his eyes closing again; he regulates his breathing through his mouth, his hands continuing to push and pull your waist. His cock was so perfectly aligned with your slit, your folds wrapping around the bulging and veiny shaft and the tip rubbing with your clit every time you rocked your hips. It was enough to take him to paradise, it was enough to get him there; his high comes to him like a big wave crashing down against a giant boulder. His chest heaves up hard, the heat in his stomach rising and pushing through. The sensitivity he was drowning under, pushes him to his edge, making his cock twitch deliriously against your slit and your folds, and his tip ramming into your clit; in few seeming minutes, he comes undone, filling up your slit with his cum. Most of it ends up on his lower abdomen and his chest.

"Fuck, princess," he lets out a guttural moan, swallowing thickly and raising his head back to look at you and then inspecting the cum on his clothes.

You peek down, biting intensely on your lower lip, catching the sight of the white strings painting his shirt; surging in a gentle breath, you continue rolling your hips, continue to keep the pace steady till you're close to your release. This would've been less painful if you weren't so sensitive from before, from your time with Yeosang, to here, to Yunho fingering your tightness out, as if his life depended on it.

"Come on, princess," he praises you, "you can do it. I know how much you love making a mess on my cock."

Moaning, whimpering, shuddering, and crying, you're finally reaching there, with his words kept on a replay in your head. The knot ties in with the hit in your stomach—your legs were almost on the verge of giving out, and so were you. Darkness consumes you, dazed in the thoughts of you pushing your limit and wanting to be tipped off your edge. In the hollowed silence, where only your breaths were echoing, you catch up on the dainty vibrations of his words.

"Make a mess, baby."

And they were enough for you to reach your high; it comes crashing down on you, the sensation of his still-stiff cock and the wetness of your cunt, coming together and pushing your beyond your limit. That was it, the knot unfurls in your stomach and you let go of what had been holding it together; your body shudders and twitches uncontrollably, your lips parting and staying parted as you release a series of curses.

"Fuck, oh god—hmm, Yunho," you mewl his name in a pained voice, your face strained and pulled together with the tension easing slowing in your stomach and your gut.

Yunho snickers, his sound lighthearted and teasing, "oh my, my princess really did make a big mess on my cock."

You didn't have the strength to retort or reply to him, your body going limp and collapsing down on his chest. The ickiness of both of your releases starts settling in afterwards, regardless, for the time being, you were seeking comfort from him, with his arms wrapped tightly around you. His warmth is a meagre thought of ecstasy, a sacred feeling you never had experienced before. Resting yourself with him, with his fingers running through your hair and his soft voice humming a song to you, it was your paradise.

The two of you decide to stay in bed for the rest of the evening and the night. Yunho suggested watching a movie while you were both cleaning yourself and taking a well needed shower, but you turned the idea down and asked him if he was okay with just cuddling and talking. And he was. He could never go against your words; there was no way he'd actually disagree to anything you say. But of course, he'd there to correct you with his own opinions and thoughts if he deems you to be wrong.

So there you were, delighting yourself in the post aftercare with Yunho, cuddling and talking to each other, narrating stories from your past. He kept one arm slung around your waist from under you, while his other was draped around your chest with his fingers tracing patterns on your exposed shoulder. A soft blanket covered you both; he got you one of his oversized hoodies to wear while he only slipped on his shorts. 

"It's silly, I know." Yunho's chuckle reverberates in your ear, his smile widening. "But trust me, he's never confessed. He always has this elaborated ideas about confessing, but he never goes through with them."

"And you just toy with him?" you snicker, "if you know he likes you, then why not just end it? I'm pretty sure he'd be out of his misery."

"Nah," he presses his lips on the top of your head, "I'm too used to this game of cat and mouse. I wouldn't mind pulling his strings a little. Besides, he can be a real jerk at times."

"Like today?"

"There have been more difficult times." He sighs, "hey, let's not talk about it anymore."

You nod your head, deciding with it; Yunho had been telling you about his and Mingi's relationship—how those two became friends, how they got along, how they both liked each other in ways more than friends. Neither of them said anything about it though, and that really confused you. But it wasn't your place to say anything.

"So, how are you feeling now?" he asks you, bursting your bubble of thought

"Much better," you mutter, "I feel so sleepy."

"Of course you do," he chuckles. "Sure that little body can handle only so much from us, and considering you were with Seonghwa and Yeosang in the morning, that's—that's completely understandable."

"Shut up," you whine, teasing him. "Did you forget to include yourself? You were a jerk."

"Thank you so much for reminding me again," he clicks his tongue and slurs his words. "Come on, I said I'll make it up to you, I promise." You watch him pout.

"You better."

"Yes ma'am."

And the teasing and mocking continues on through the dwelling night until you find yourself sound asleep in his arms; he's no better than you of course, you had caught him snoring before you could even get yourself to drift off. Though, he looked really cute as he slept, a soft pout stayed on his lips as he did. When you were dozing off, you had many thoughts on your mind, but only one of them stood out. Did you actually like him? So, San was right. You really did dream of having a proper relationship with him.

Oh boy, this little arrangement of yours might leave you heartbroken.

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[toruro]

— ✧ bark (like a dog)

a part of new rules ... a svt performance unit x mafia au series !

description. kwon soonyoung is hot. he's fucking smoking, but also painfully out of your reach—being your father's main hitman assistant means that, by the books, he's pretty much off limits. but then again, when did silly stuff like rules ever stop you?

genre. smut (18+), brief angst, mafia au

warnings/tags: PLEASE READ! mentions of murder & death bc hoshi is a hitman, descriptions of blood, reader is daughter of mafia boss, mean dom hoshi, gun play (unloaded), or4l (m receiving), jealousy, sp4nking, breath control, praise kink, blindfolds, th1gh r1iding, pet names (princess, angel, good girl), consent is SEXY

w/c: 7.3k

a/n: thank u @gyuswhore for proofreading hehe ... anyways this is like smut w a hint of plot. sorry not sorry my head's been so full of him

You don’t get nervous.

Not when you overhear your father talking about some risky new plans and not when you go out and know there’s a target on your back.

Not when you snuck out your apartment tonight without your bodyguard to just pop into the galleria that you heard some of your father’s men talking about. Which, by the way, you totally didn’t do because one of them mentioned Kwon Soonyoung being there. Yeah. Totally not.

You weren’t nervous when you waltz into the galleria, in some pretty dress pants and a cute black t-shirt that may or may not have been showing a lot more skin than your father likes. The night was going great, honestly. Fantastic, even.

Until your eyes landed on the very reason you even decided to come here. Kwon Soonyoung.

Again, you don’t get nervous. It’s simply not in your DNA.

So why does having this man next to you make your vision bleary and heart heavy?

“Did you like it?” you murmur, toeing at the grass beneath you with bare feet. You’re at your father’s house now. Soonyoung caught sight of you after you caught sight of him laughing with another woman, which totally shouldn’t have bothered you but you felt green boil in your stomach anyways.

And you watched her lead him into some other hallway with a man and then Soonyoung was gone. He was doing whatever he does, you know? You don’t want to pry into his work, but seeing as he’s your father’s favorite man, it’s kind of hard to avoid the truth.

Soonyoung was definitely just doing his job. Talked to the woman, peppered a few kisses on her cheek to butter her up, got her to introduce to a man who was maybe probably definitely his target, and then he walked out again, fixing his coat over his shoulders as he returned alone. He took you home after that.

You squirm just at the thought. Nightly zephyrs pinch at your skin as you stand in the backyard, but as you feel Soonyoung’s gaze burn into the back of your head, your body warms nonetheless.

Even turned away from him, you can practically feel the way his eyebrow cocks up. “Like what?”

You scoff and roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see you. Oh well, he probably knows anyway. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not sure I do, angel,” he replies without hesitation. Your mind races at the nickname, not because you think it’s a term of endearment, but because you’re almost sure that he’s mocking you. Angel. Fuck, everyone knows you’re anything but a damn angel, and you’d be an idiot to think Soonyoung meant anything other than to belittle you right now.

“Sure,” you mutter dryly, running one hand down your face, before turning around to face him. Kwon Soonyoung is hot, as always, with his dark messy hair falling right over his eyebrows, one of which has a little slit carved into the edge, his plump lips and sharp eyes that watch you carefully.

Even under the dim light of the night sky, he seems to glow beneath the moon.

“Are you going to be all pouty like this for the rest of the night?” When you don’t respond, he huffs loudly. You don’t want him to be annoyed with you, but you cross your arms over your chest and press your feet into the soil stubbornly anyways. “Am I going to have to call Taehyun to drive you home?”

“What, you don’t want to bother doing that yourself?” you snap. Fuck, you don’t even know why you said that. It isn’t Soonyoung’s job to take care of you in any way. Sure he indirectly does that by heeding your father’s order—by killing off any threats when they pop up, but nowhere in his title’s description does it say he needs to take you home, to coddle you, to watch over you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks, and you want to fucking strangle him because if it wasn’t painfully obvious, then to make it clear once more, yeah you want him to take you home. You want him to pull you to his car and press a hand on your thigh and then creep it up your legs until your squirming under his touch and—

You need to stop getting ahead of yourself. Your relationship is—god, you want to say it’s professional, but you can’t even call it that. You and Kwon Soonyoung, your relationship is somehow both less and more than professional.

It’s so intimate—he’s your father’s most loyal worker, he’d go to any lengths to keep your family, to keep you, safe. And yet, even after you’ve seen the blood on his clothes and the imprint of his gun in his pants, he’s a stranger.

Not because you don’t know his favorite color, or because he doesn’t know what kind of food you like, but because even as a million thoughts run through your head, you’re pretty sure he can’t figure out a single one of them.

Finally, you speak up, reverting the topic without answering his question. “Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” Your voice is smaller this time.

“Are you trying to play a guessing game with me?”

Your glare hardens on him. “Fuck you,” you spit out, and Soonyoung puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. “The galleria—did you have fun? Did you like it?”

“Well angel, I hate to break it to you but I was just doing my job. Not that you would know, since you’ve never had to work a damn day in your life, but I don’t necessarily love my job. So if that’s what you want to know, then I guess you have your answer.”

“And with her? Did you—”

“What are you talking about?” he cuts you off harshly, and you’re slightly taken aback by the way his voice booms louder.

“Didn’t know kissing pretty women was a part of your job,” you murmur gruffly before finally making your way to the door that leads back into the house.

“Where’re you going?”

“I also didn’t know that keeping track of where I’m going was a part of your job.”

“You’re not making any damn sense right now, I hope you know that.”

Slipping on some socks, you go on, “Is listening to me a part of your job too? If not, I suggest you just leave me alone and—”

“God, what the hell are you goin’ on about, with all this job shit? Since when did you care about what I do to get a job done?”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” you conclude, going to open the door before Soonyoung’s hand stops you.

“Stop being a brat,” he hisses, causing you to press your lips together tightly.

“I am not being a brat,” you scoff, ripping your arm away from him. “If anything, you’re the attention seeker who—”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, attention seeker?”

“Well you were basically throwing yourself at that woman and—” Your breath hitches when you realize what you’ve just said, and you slap a hand over your mouth as you look down.

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, but it’s not as disappointed as you except … if anything, he sounds … sorry. “What do you want from me? You know it’s my job.”

You scoff, shoving your head in your hands out of humiliation. “I think you know exactly what I want from you,” you mutter. Now you’re not really sure what you’re expecting from Soonyoung but it’s definitely not his strong hand on your wrists, forcing you to look up at him.

“Do you want me to take you home or not?”

You look at him, mortified at the bluntness of his suggestion.

“I—what?”

“Look, you’re not very discreet and—”

“Oh my god, stop talking. I need to go and—”

Soonyoung grabs your face. It’s gentle, but his touch is firm and his eyes don’t break away from yours for a moment. His fingers press into the plush of your cheeks, and there’s a both nerve-wracking and alluring aura to it.

“Let’s take you home, or I tell your father where you were last night. How you left your cozy little apartment without your dear Mr. Choi who, if I recall, is supposed to accompany you wherever you go.”

You gape at him—there is no way he’s threatening you right now. You blink once, and then twice, and Soonyoung’s gaze remains unwavering.

Fuck.

Which is how you find yourself seated patiently on Soonyoung’s couch, thighs pressed together and hands on your knees cutely as you watch him fill up a glass of water. You wonder if he can hear the beating of your heart.

If he can, he doesn’t comment on it, instead breaking the silence when he walks over to you, “I hope you know what you’re signing yourself up for.”

You grin immediately. “Some fun, of course,” you reply, mentally marveling at your own wit.

Soonyoung fucking laughs at you. His eyes are peering down at you carefully as he juts the glass of water to you, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that you should just take the damn glass and drink.

His gaze doesn’t waver when you bring the glass up to your lips, slowly but surely downing all its contents and letting the cool water attempt to put out the flames that burn in your stomach. “Good job,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head when you place the glass on his coffee table, the simple but impactful words sending shivers down your spine.

Making the risky decision to test your luck once more, you bat your lashes and bring your arms closer together in front of you so that your tits bunch up, giving Soonyoung a perfect view from above. “So? When’s the fun gonna start?”

Something in his eyes darkens, but you choose to ignore it as Soonyoung slips his dark work coat off, letting it fall behind him on the coffee table. What follows is a heavy thud and clank and your stomach churns at the thought of what caused such a sound.

“Listen,” Soonyoung says, his voice firm but not as demeaning as before. “I need to know where your head is at.” he pauses.

You pout and then raise a challenging brow. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Soonyoung chuckles, and reaches back for his coat, rummaging through the inner pockets for a moment as your blood runs cold in realization. He unsheathes a heavy black gun from the dark fabric, holding it close to his dress shirt as he smooths a finger over the barrel.

You try to move your fingers but they’re frozen in place as he watches the look on your face contort into some odd look of awe.

“Let me rephrase that,” Soonyoung murmurs. “I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

The air is stuck in your throat and your lungs squeeze and writhe for some semblance of sanity, but the way his thick fingers caress the heavy metal of the gun has your vision going blurry. He’s tracing over all the dips, the curves, the crevices, and you can only imagine what it’ll feel like if you had the cool, heavy, pistol pressed against your skin while Soonyoung’s fingers are all over you.

Your eyes are clouded, and he stills for a moment, subtly sliding the gun past his side and hiding it behind his back with one hand, using the other to grab your chin and tilt your head so you’re craning your neck to look up at him.

“So be honest with me right now.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he’s asking for. You don’t have to think about your answer, not one bit, and that’s because through everything, you trust Soonyoung. You trust him with your life, and you trust him with more.

“I’m willing to do whatever you want,” you tell him almost immediately. There’s no hesitation, no apprehension—Soonyoung knows when he looks you in the eye and he swears he feels his heart grow ten times in his chest when your pupils dilate.

Slowly, he brings his hand from his back to the front, the grip of the gun pressing back against his lower abdomen as he squeezes your cheeks together with his other hand. Your lips bunch together in a pucker and he pinches the bottom lip for a moment, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the drool that slides down his chin.

“That’s a pretty bold statement, princess,” he finally says, a sharp clicking sound resonating through the room when he shifts the gun in his hand.

“I can take it,” you insist through squished lips, looking up at Soonyoung with some kind of determination that boils his blood with pure passion.

“You’re confident …” he mutters, holding the gun close to your cheek, pressing the cold metal against your warm skin. You can’t be sure if action helps you cool down or only heats you up anymore, but a wanton whimper escapes your lips and suddenly you have your answer.

Soonyoung watches how you swallow at the contact, fingers quivering by your side and he lets his hand relax for a second, holding the gun by his side. “It’s unloaded.”

“I-I wouldn’t care either way,” you mumble, slightly annoyed that Soonyoung dropped his hand. “I trust you.”

Soonyoung smiles, letting go of your cheeks and instead gripping the back of your neck, running his thumb up and down your collarbone. “It’s okay to be scared, angel. Two taps to stop,” he tells you, pointing at his wrist.

You roll your eyes tentatively, unsure if it’s the right move. When Soonyoung quickly presses the muzzle against your lips, you deduct that rolling your eyes was, in fact, the best thing you could have done.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he mutters, feigning discontent as he tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his work pants when you part your mouth and let the gun sink further into your mouth.

The taste of metal on your tongue is unfamiliar, and frankly the hardness of the gun is quite uncomfortable but when you press your tongue against the base of the barrel, and swirl it over the sides, you imagine it’s Soonyoung’s cock in your mouth instead.

He’s steadying you with his hand pressed at your neck, holding the gun at an angle above you without moving it. The sight of you sucking and struggling, drool dripping down your chin and skin flushing—he’s in heaven he swears.

Cute eyes looking up at him with such desperation, pleading with him silently because you can’t speak—not with the way his gun is stuffed between your pretty lips. “Fuck, how does it feel princess?” he groans at just the image alone.

You’re silent, because of course, how could you say a thing. The only sounds that bounce off the walls are the filthy slurping of your tongue and the hollowing of your cheeks, tears peeking from your waterline as Soonyoung presses the gun further down your mouth, the now slick barrel sliding easily past your teeth.

Your jaw aches and you gag as you adjust to the feeling, but the reality of it all starts to hit you, and it’s dizzying. Soonyoung—fuck, he’s here in front of you with his gun shoved down your throat and you’re looking up at him like he has all the answers to the universe and more.

And more is exactly what you want, and Soonyoung can tell because even as squeaks erupt from your throat and your fingers tremble when they fly up and grip at his thigh, you don’t pull away and you don’t tap out.

It’s worrying for a moment, because here you are with tears streaming down your cheeks but he can hear your silent pleas of don’t stop, please, please, please, don’t stop, and he feels he might go insane at the thought that you’re just as deranged as him.

“So pretty,” he praises, and you press your lips down and whine at the way the words have your cunt throbbing. Slowly, Soonyoung starts to pull the gun out of your mouth, your jaw going slack at the feeling of your tongue being free, but your face is on fire and you just need to do more.

You continue to lap against the gun, swirling it over the circular muzzle when he’s just about pulled it out all the way, not breaking eye contact with Soonyoung for even a moment. It’s addicting, the way he watches you—bottom lip lodged between his own teeth and jaw clenched tight as he imagines it’s his cock inside your mouth instead.

“God fuck, you’re insane,” he says when you kiss the side of the barrel one last time before he carefully places the pistol behind him. For the first time tonight (and ever, for that matter), Soonyoung kisses you. He grabs your warm face and leans down to smash his lips against your swollen, tired mouth.

You’re fatigued already, he can tell, and takes this as his chance to press his tongue against yours and explore the very mouth that sucked against his gun just moments earlier. He can still taste the metal on your tongue, letting your lips melt together as one for just a moment before pulling away.

He can tell there’s a complaint threatening to leave your lips, but he makes sure it shrivels when he shoots you a knowing look. “You deserve a reward, don’t you think? Did s’good for me …”

You nod eagerly, and Soonyoung is thoroughly surprised by how quickly you’ve bounced back, trailing his fingers down from your face to your waist, pulling you up to stand on your feet. Your legs are wobbly and for a moment, you stumble forward but Soonyoung catches you, his arm steadily belted around your hips.

“Already done?” he asks, but it’s more of a tease than anything. Still, you take it as a challenge and shake your head as he leads you to his bedroom. It’s dimly lit, only the moon through the window and its reflection against a mirror leading you the way to his bed as he hops on, laying back as you stand by the foot of the bed.

He raises a brow. “What are you waiting for? Strip.”

“W-what?”

Soonyoung is still fully clothed, legs spread slightly as he hikes one knee up and watches you expectantly. “Princess,” he coos, “I said strip.”

You shudder at the request when it finally sinks in, and you quickly follow by pushing your pants down and pulling your shirt off your head, leaving you completely topless, your lower half donned with nothing but a set of black satin panties.

Soonyoung swears his heart stops at the sight, and just as you’re about to push them down, he holds his hand out. “Leave them on, come here.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice this time, and you crawl onto the foot of the bed before making your way in between his legs, only stopping when Soonyoung places his heavy hands on your shoulders and smoothes them down your bare arms.

You sigh contently at the contact, instinctively shooting one hand between your legs to rub at the growing ache. You hardly make it though, Soonyoung’s hand shooting out and stopping your wrist halfway. “Thought you wanted a reward? Getting ahead of yourself, huh …”

You shake your head vehemently. “N-no—I jus’—need something, need you, Soonyoung,” you confess, leaning forward in hopes that he’ll meet you halfway for a kiss.

He doesn’t, opting to watch you amusedly as you squirm on all fours in front of him. “Show me how much you need me,” Soonyoung rasps out, helping you settle over yourself over his thigh before placing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the headboard casually.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you place your hands on his chest for hardly a second before he swats them away. “W-what?”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” he asks, and he’s definitely mocking you with his tone. “And keep your hands to yourself—you only get to touch me if you can prove to me you want this.”

“I want it, Soonyoung, so bad! So, so, so bad, you don’t understand!” you whine, bouncing yourself up and down to punctuate your word but gasps leaving your lips at the friction it leaves behind.

“Yeah well,” he sighs, adjusting his body so he’s laying even further back down. “Make me understand. Make yourself cum.” Your plush lips part, agape at his proposition. Why he can’t just fuck you into the sheets right here and right now is beyond you, but Soonyoung’s eyes light like a flame and you aren’t sure if you want to add fuel to the fire or put out.

Tentatively, you rut your core against the hard muscle of his thigh, the friction of his dark dress pants shooting pleasure through your flimsy panties. You have half a mind to rip the damn fabric off, but the rubbing of cloth that bunches around your clit is more pleasurable than anything.

“See,” Soonyoung murmurs, as you repeat the motion of rocking yours forward and back in a slow rhythm. “Pretty angel does know how to work for something. Let’s see if you can keep it up,” he hums, and you glower down at him.

“I-I know how to work,” you huff, grinding down extra hard as a means to prove your point, but your argument falls flat when you whimper, hands falling forward on his chest as your body lurches forward. Soonyoung’s own firm grip lands on your wrists, yanking them off of him.

“Do you, now?” he scoffs. “Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions,” he says under his breath, and instead of glaring, your eyebrows furrow as you hold your arms close to your chest, massaging your tits yourself to keep your hands occupied.

“‘m sorry Soonyoungie,” you say softly, losing the attitude that held your head up and replacing it with a wave of compliance as you cling onto the friction against your cunt, desperate to not let your far-away orgasm to ebb away.

“Soonyoungie, huh?” he mutters, watching the way your tits bounce when you work your body in a harsher up and down motion, letting the soiled fabric of your panties to stain his own pants. “Cute name, but you’re gonna have to work a bit harder,” he comments, and he’s true to his word because Soonyoung does think it’s cute. He thinks you’re cute, and hot, and pretty, and the only person he wants to stick his dick into, but fuck, if he doesn’t want to make you beg, make you sob for it …

Fervently, you start to find a pace that’s steadily increasing, thighs burning and twitching at every brush of your sopping pussy over him. You’re wet—so wet—and you know Soonyoung can feel it through his pants. How he’s so still and composed is beyond you, and while you try to think about what’s running through his mind, your brain goes empty the second you feel one of his hands on your hips.

“So spoiled,” he chides, and you want to shake your head and protest, ‘cause no! You’re not spoiled! But you know damn well that’d be a lie, and as you feel Soonyoung flex his muscle beneath you and use his hand to help swivel your hips, it’s only confirmed.

“Hnggff—S-Soony—”

“S’okay,” he groans, when the knee that’s wedged between his legs brushes against his crotch that holds his undeniably hard cock. You both shudder at the feeling—Soonyoung because of the small but relieving stimulation, and you because of the anticipation of feeling him inside of you. “Go on, baby, can tell you’re close. Fuck yourself like this—I know you can do it.”

“Hurts,” you sigh softly as your legs begin to tremble and give into the fatigue. “Soonie, I can’t, I—” you cut yourself off with your own high pitched moan when he hikes his leg up a little higher, causing you ro shift forward and arch your back so that your clit was pressed perfectly against his thigh. “God, fuck.”

“What do you mean you can’t, angel?” he coos in that both infuriating and pulsing tone of his. “You’re doin’ it for me right now …”

“I—I …” the words dry right on your throat when your orgasm crashes into you, the ghost of Soonyoung’s name on your tongue as you fall forward. You know he told you no touching, no holding, none of that, but fuck, even he can’t be mad when you press your face into his chest with low mewls bubbling up in your throat.

Securing an arm around your waist, he bounces his thigh upwards to push you through your fall, squeezing out every last bit of pleasure you’ll allow him until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation but too exhausted to pull away.

“‘m tired,” you whine through broken gasps, as you pull away and look up blankly at the ceiling. Soonyoung watches the way your tits shift with every inhale and exhale, and before he knows it he’s fumbling at the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down so his dripping cock can finally breathe.

The sound of his length slapping against his firm abdomen has you blinking into reality quicker than you can think, and you glance at Soonyoung who sits in front of you. His cock is standing up, pulsing tall and proud, adorning a pretty, angry tip that smears precum over his defined abs.

“Too tired?” he piques, but with the way that drool dribbles at the corner of your lips, he knows he already has an answer. Grinning when you shake your head vigorously, he shifts himself so his bare legs hang over the edge of the bed, his hands placed behind him as he leans back. “Get on the ground.”

Two hours ago, you would have shut down the proposition immediately. Getting on the ground for a man? Completely out of your scope. Unfathomable, honestly.

But Soonyoung’s voice is so … it’s—he isn’t proposing, or suggesting, or asking, no … Soonyoung is demanding and you’d be damned to let him think you’re anything less than obedient. Quickly, you push yourself up and crawl over to where he’s sitting before slipping off the bed and slotting yourself between his legs.

As you sit back on your heels, the wetness of your core slides down your thighs and as your legs press together, the arousal smears against your supple skin, undoubtedly making a mess. It feels so dirty and lewd but as Soonyoung watches you with dark eyes, you feel like the most beautiful person on the planet.

Gentler than you were expecting, he uses one hand to hold your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Angel got a smart mouth, huh,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself as he runs a thumb over your lips, starting from the top then circling down to the bottom. He scoops up some of the drool that you hadn’t wiped away and then pushes it all back into your mouth from the corner of your lips. “You think you can put it to good use?”

“‘course I can,” you say a bit more proudly than Soonyoung enjoys. You’re cute, yeah—fuck yeah—but you look up at him like it’s some sort of challenge and he just needs to remind you of who’s really in charge.

And so he holds you by the crown of your head, guiding your mouth close to his cock which dons a dribble of precum. You stick your tongue out at the sight, eyes wide in anticipation as he uses his other hand to guide your own fingers to your thigh. “Same thing,” he tells you, “two taps and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” you agree, verbally this time with a nod before pushing your tongue back out in hopes that he’ll speed it all out because fuck, you haven’t ever wanted to feel a cock in your mouth this badly. But who can blame you? It’s so long and thick and—god, it’s so heavy when he taps that tip against your tongue.

You open your mouth wider, anticipating him to push it down further like he did with the gun, but you should’ve known better. Should’ve known that Soonyoung likes toying around with you.

Soonyoung lets you lap precum off his shiny tip, swirling over the slit for just a second before he’s lifting his cock and then slapping it back down on your tongue this time. The contact is light, but the thickness of it all and the ache in your core has you pleading for more.

When a desperate whimper rips through your throat, Soonyoung grins. And so he does it again. And again. And again. Slapping his cock on your tongue until he can’t handle it anymore, cock throbbing at just the thought of you sucking against him like you did his pistol, and slides his length into your mouth without warning.

“Fuck,” he moans, and you vaguely wonder if there could be anything that sounds more melodic. You press your tongue against the length, hardening the tip and tracing it over the curves, the veins—anything and everything you can feel—as if you were trying to memorize him bit by bit.

Soonyoung basks in it, the image of you stuffed with his cock in your mouth, lips puffy but eyes somehow begging for more. He loves it, he tells himself in his head. Such a spoiled girl, but then again, his spoiled girl.

“Ready?” he asks, stiffening his hold on your hair and giving you a knowing look. Meekly, you nod with his cock still spreading your lips, and with nothing more than a nod, Soonyoung pushes you down his full length, nose pressed against his pelvis as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

And it hurts so good—your jaw is sore and you’re on the verge of gagging because he’s so big but something about the way your lungs burn and throat tightens has your mind set on not stopping.

Soonyoung is watching you intently when he finally lets go, pulling you off of his length and allowing you a moment to breathe. He wonders how far is too far with you, but when you just pant heavily, looking up at him with your tongue stuck out once more, inching closer to him, he figures he’s still got a long way to go.

So Soonyoung does it again; softly murmurs, “Take a deep breath,” and then yanks your head down until all you can feel is his cock bullying its way through your lips, your hollowed out cheeks, your throat. His loud moans egg you on, and you nearly start to tremble at the way you start to feel light-headed. He holds you down for longer this time, and this time, tears are gushing down your face but no, you won’t relent.

Its enthralling for the both of you, and it doesn’t stop. Soonyoung starts a pattern. Push down, hold, release, repeat. Push down, hold, release, repeat. And he does it until he feels his cock twitch in your warm mouth and has to almost push you back to hold off from cumming.

He just can’t do it, not yet. Not until he’s felt you flush against his skin, bodies intertwined as he fucks into you.

So when he pulls you off this time, you know it’s the last (for now, at least). You breathe steadily, in through your nose and out through your mouth as you recuperate, staring at the floor. Gingerly, Soonyoung hooks his hands under your arms and pulls you up so you’re sitting next to him on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly when he catches the clouded look on your face. When you slowly look at him and nod with a dazed smile, Soonyoung just knows he’s in love. You look so happy, so eager to submit and he loves the way you trust him, loves the way you know he’s going to treasure you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your puffy lips as he stands up and walks over in front of the bed where his dresser is.

You frown at the idea of him being away from you. “Need it no-o-ow, Soonie,” you drawl out, standing up and making your way to Soonyoung, reaching out to place your palm against the hard muscle of his back. You run your hand over him, and for a few moments, he lets you.

You can feel the twitch of each hard earned, firm muscle as he moves around through his desk space, and you silently wonder what it’ll feel like to dig your nails into his back in another heated moment. Fuck, you’re so down bad.

“You’re so greedy,” Soonyoung mutters, finally turning around to grab your wrists. On one side, you feel something cool and soft press against your skin, and glancing down, you recognize it as the feeling of black satin against your arm. “I told you to sit down, didn’t I?”

You frown, but oblige anyways, shuffling over to the middle of the bed, sitting down neatly on your knees as Soonyoung stands in front of you by the edge. He’s holding the ribbon in both hands now, the silk taut as he holds it up to your head.

“You okay with this?” he asks, pressing the silk right up against your eyes that have since fluttered shut, but he doesn’t quite tie it just yet. You inhale deeply for a second and then nod. “Words princess. I need words.”

“Yes,” you comply. “I’m okay.”

As soon as you’ve given him the green light, he’s bringing the two ends of the silk behind your head and tying it into a tight knot. “Is it comfortable?” he asks sincerely, waving a hand in front of your face. “D’you see that?”

“Uhh, yes and no,” you respond, slightly confused and still getting used to not being able to see anything.

“Good,” he says to himself, and you feel the mattress dip, causing you to lose a bit of your balance, jutting your hands out to grab onto anything. Immediately, you feel Soonyoung’s hands on you, and your muscles lose their tension. “Relax. I’m right here.”

Those seem to be just the words you need to hear, because you’re sitting back down, sitting a bit more comfortably this time as you feel Soonyoung shift around on the mattress. This is Soonyoung, this is Soonyoung, you remind yourself, and he’ll always keep you safe.

“C’mere,” his thick voice breaks through your thoughts, and you flail around for a moment trying to trace his voice. There’s a hand on your shoulder soon, guiding you toward the direction of the headboard and you tentatively crawl over, yelling out in surprise when you quickly feel two hands wrap under your thighs and lift you up.

Your shock is soon replaced with a burning desire when Soonyoung finally places you on his lap, and you can feel his rock hard length pressing against your inner leg as you settle over his thighs. All you can hear for a moment is your sharp breaths, but then there’s a hard smack against your ass.

“Go on angel … you know what you want to do—what’re you waiting for?”

You want to curse Soonyoung right now, because how the hell d’he know? But then again, you don’t really care because here he is, egging you on.

So gingerly, you lift your hips over him and shuffle forward so that your stomach is pressed against his chest. You feel one of his hands find purchase on your waist while the other reaches between the dripping mess that starts to splay between your cores and positions his cock against your soaked folds.

And then he’s presses rough kisses into your neck and sliding his tongue over your collarbone, murmuring, “Go on princess, go on,” and you can fucking hear the own want in his strained voice. Soonyoung is just as far gone as you, but you don’t have the liberty to linger on that fact for more than a moment before your cunt takes hold of all your senses and you instinctively sink down on him.

The moan Soonyoung let’s out is deep, gruff, guttural, and has your walls instinctively clenching around him and your hazed frenzy. “Good girl,” he grunts as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Your head swings around for a few moments as your eyes well up with tears from the initial stretch, but soon Soonyoung’s soft words of praise are pulling you down to reality and reminding you that he’s right here, that this is happening, whispering sweet and filthy nothings into your ear as you adjust to having him inside you.

“See,” he croons, stroking your chin with his thumb as you slowly grind down on him, both of you letting out soft gasps at the feeling. “Being so good for me, princess,” he hums, and you can’t even see the expression on his face but you know he’s not finished. “Wonder what the boss is gonna think of this,” he chuckles under his breath.

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders at his words, hugging his head close as you anticipate what he’s about to say next, trying your best to keep your soft mewls to yourself. It’s hard—really hard—because Soonyoung is big and he’s jutting his hips upwards sharply but sporadically, making it impossible to tell when he’s going to be punching moans straight out of your lungs.

“So good. Being so good for me, but so bad for everyone else,” he whispers into your neck as you start to bounce your hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Fuck,” you moan, both from the way he’s battering your inside, reaching so deep you don’t even know how he’s fit.

And Soonyoung doesn’t stop there, at least not with his words. “Sneaking out—” He snaps up harshly, his fat tip pressing against spots inside your cunt that have you writhing into him. “—Lying to your dad—” He continues to punctuate himself with more rough, emphasizing thrusts. “—Going out unattended—Breaking the rules—” He grunts out especially loudly at the last one, burying his head into your beck from the pleasure that radiates you both. “But you won’t do that to me, right princess? G’na be my good girl, right?”

“A-always,” you stutter out through strangled gasps for air as your body lurches around from the deep pounding of his hips. You’re so close—fuck it, you’re nearly there, and you pulse around him, digging your face into his hair from above as you try your best to swivel your hips but then, it all comes to a halt.

“Wha—what?!” you nearly shriek when he grips your hips so tightly that you both still, and suddenly the knot that’s been tying so carefully at the base of your stomach is unraveling and not in the way that you’d like. Your orgasm ebbs away into some far distance that you can’t reach, especially not in the frantic state you’re in after having lost just what might have been the best high of your life. “Why would you do that?”

Soonyoung watches your pained expression from below with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, quirking an eyebrow at your accusing questions. He presses a hand down on your stomach when you try to buck upwards for some—any—sort of relief. “You already came once. You didn’t think you’d get the second that easily, did you?”

Any snarky remark you’d be able to come up with withers away and all you’re left with is a big fat frown. “I—” you stutter in short breaths before huffing out, “I was s’close.”

“I know princess. But you can be good, right? Good for me?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with the back of his hand before tugging at the silk, letting the blindfold fall from your eyes and land on his abdomen. Your eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Soonyoung can only describe as cute, and from beneath you, he brings his palm down on your ass harshly, the sound of the smack resonating through his room.

As you blink your eyes into comfort, adjusting to the dim light, Soonyoung lifts his hip, causing his length to shift deeper inside of you, and you lurch forward at the sensation of him kissing your cervix.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes pressed closed tightly as he steadies your hips with his hands and in one swift movement, flips you both over so your back is to the mattress and he hovers on top of you.

You’re overwhelmed with it all—being deprived of your vision for so long and now you get to take it all in—the beads of sweat rolling down Soonyoung’s pretty peaks and valleys of abs, his dark hair splayed all over the face, flush cheeks and furrowed eyebrows as he focuses his vision on where his cock meets your cunt—fuck.

“You wanna cum?” he grunts in your ear, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eye as he draws his hips back, slamming back into your sloppy cunt. Then he brings his lips right by the shell of your ear and in a hoarse, mangled whisper, he demands, “Beg for it.”

And beg you do.

You wrap your legs around Soonyoung’s waist and dig crescent moons into his shoulders, draw pretty red lines into his back and you sob into the sheets, into his shoulder. And your walls hug him in again and again and let him whisper filthy words into your ears until you can’t even comprehend the depraved images he’s drawing into your head.

Ecstasy courses through your veins and your body knows nothing other than the enigma that is Kwon Soonyoung who pushes you so far, until you’re breaking beneath him—a wailing mess as you tell him how good it all feels, how his fat cock batters your cunt so well that you can do nothing other than choke out sweet ‘thank you’s and hoarse, ‘please’s.

And he makes you work for it, just like he promised, urging you to beg just a little more, swiveling his thrusts so that each stroke hits all your sweet spots, finally giving in when he mutters into your neck, “Let go princess, let go.”

And when you finally feel every string that’s been so meticulously woven together, teetering at the edge of breaking for ages, you let it all snap. Crying into his skin as you let him fuck you into an orgasm, hitting you harder than you could even imagine as every muscle goes limp and all you know is Kwon Soonyoung is here next to you, and he here to stay, because after a few more pumps his hot cum is filling you to the brim and more.

Soonyoung kisses you like he could swallow you whole. Like he could bathe in nothing but your arms and be the happiest man alive.

It’s the realization that hits you when he collapses over you, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you as your mouths connect in a maniac passion. More. It’s always more with Soonyoiung. He’ll protect you and more. He’ll hold you and more.Stroking the curve of your hips gently, you know—he’s going to love you and more.

a/n. first part of new rules is done, three more to go! chan will most likely be next, so stay tuned hehe! i hope u all enjoyed :3

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @whippedforjihoon @xiaoting999  @hipsdofangirl @valenhui @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @seokchannieworld @yunjinified @dnylwoo @nishloves @woozarts @etherealyoungk (strikethrough could not be tagged) join here!

[eds6ngel]

first of all: i absolutely love “double the pleasure” !! thank you so much for writing my silly slutty thoughts babe <3💋

i currently can’t stop thinking about robin buckley while listening to “burning desire” which got me thinking:

“have to touch myself to pretend you’re there. your hands were on my hips your name was on my lips”

or: robin accidentally walking in on her roommate (reader) touching herself, maybe even humping one of robin’s pillows (or using one of her “missing” shirts as a pillow case) while moaning her name.

-🪷

when two become one ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆₊˚⊹♡

robin buckley x fem!afab!reader

summary: you'd liked robin ever since you met her in your college class, so what happens when you hear her moaning your name from her room in your shared apartment? and what could possibly spiral from there?

warnings: SMUT!! fem!afab!reader. implied lesbian!reader. college!au. mutual masturbation. self pleasure. pillow humping. kissing. hickeys. hair pulling. boob play & sucking. fingering (r receiving.) oral (both receiving.) scissoring. dirty talk. swearing. pet names (baby, sweetheart, my love, pretty girl.) homophobia mentions. roommates to lovers/friends to lovers. fluff and comfort right at the end!! [7.5k].

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! sorry it took me so long to write this, but as you can see, it's a long one :')) regardless, i really hope that this is what you wished for!! ♡

You and Robin had become friends when you met in your communications class freshman year of college. You quickly bonded over your love for language learning and female rock artists.

However, the more time you spent with her, the more a certain kind of feeling cropped up. You tried to bury it down as much as possible, immediately doubting that she would even be into girls like you were. She was always talking about her co-worker, Steve, so the chances of her being straight were at an all time high.

Freshman year soon passed by and it was time to think about a second year living situation. Fed up with the confined living space of a dorm room, you two had decided that a shared place would be more convenient this time round, and you quickly found a two-bedroom apartment to lease for your sophomore year together.

You and Robin had just finished up dinner, a late occurrence since Robin was closing up Family Video tonight. So, by the time your stomachs were full, you both called it a night.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you placed your crate of skincare items on your bed, along with your fingerprint-stained mirror, and begin your nightly routine.

You manage to get through your toner and eye cream, before you notice a certain sound creeping through the thin wall.

“Ahhh…”

You assumed at first that Robin was just getting comfy, or maybe was simply yawning, so you continued with applying your acne cream.

However, another word followed by a more identifiable sound all but confirms what Robin is actually doing.

“Oh, fuck Y/N. Just like that.”

The soft, yet strangled cry unleashing from her throat sends shock waves straight to your core. And her moans don’t let down. If anything… they increase.

“Such a perfect pussy for me.”

Were you living in some sort of fucking fantasy? Did you in fact finish your skincare fifteen minutes ago and now you were imagining some sort of wet dream in your sleep?

You had to pinch yourself to double check. Yeah, definitely real.

And with the ever increasing moans, the ever more wet your pussy got. This couldn’t be happening. You had fucked to the thought of her for the past year. Had she heard you? Is that why she was doing this?

But, screw the reasoning. The heat between your legs was just growing and growing, the resistance becoming harder to ignore.

And soon enough, you were abandoning your skincare products to the end of the bed and getting comfortable, leaning your upper back against the headboard.

Your hand slipped below your purple, cotton panties, quickly finding the normal rhythm that you would pace yourself at on your clit.

Your middle finger creating an endless circling motion around your clit, your left hand grips onto the sheet below you, Robin becoming louder and louder by the second.

“Yeah. Rub it just like that.”

You imagined your own technique being used on her, her experiencing the desire you are, the pleasure you are, the same shivers running up her spine. It took an ultimate amount of courage not to buck your hips into your palm, your lower body desperately planting itself to the linen sheets.

“Mmm… Need more. Need your fingers, please.”

It was almost instinctual, you falling directly to her command. You gather your juices on your middle finger, coating it in your warm slick, before inserting it into your hole. Your left hand leaves a section of the quilt scrunched up into a ball as it instantly slaps to your mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You couldn’t be loud. You couldn’t reveal how pervy you were. Not yet.

“Faster, please!”

Your finger speeds up to the sound of her voice, another one sneaking into your entrance. Your mind was flooded with images of Robin on the other side of the wall. Her sprawled out on her cream-coloured mattress, hand shoved underneath her blue-checkered shorts as her fingers pump in and out of her sopping wet pussy, her juices cascading down her thighs like a goddamn streaming waterfall.

Your hips could no longer handle it, and neither could the sound of Robin’s pleas and cries. The wet sound of your pussy bounced off the four walls of your bedroom, deeply surprised at how Robin hadn’t caught on to the entire situation yet. Your hips bucked up into your hand, fingers driving into your hole at an unbelievable pace as the sound of your own voice desperately tries to escape from your throat, the only thing stopping it being the intense grip your palm had over your chapped lips.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”

And how could your body cope with that pleasurable statement? The knot in your stomach was ever increasing, tying itself tighter and tighter into a thick ball, threatening to burst at any given moment.

Robin wasn’t even attempting to keep her voice down anymore, her cries so ridiculously loud that it was basically confirmed in your mind that she wanted you in this vulnerable position. How could any woman listen to those pathetic whines and whimpers and expect not to jerk off?

“Fuck! I’m cumming!”

There were the words. The words that gave your body permission to explode into a bloody dam. Your teeth gnaw down onto your hand, eyes rolling so far back that all you can see is white as the entire orgasm washes over you in a second.

You imagine Robin right now. Hips bucking wildly, fingers furiously speeding over her clit, mouth opened wide as the sounds force themselves out of her like a demonic spirit exiting her soul. Her hair a wild mess, panties stained with her arousal, leaking through onto her pyjama shorts as her orgasm struck through her.

All of a sudden, it goes quiet. You sit there revelling in the moment for a few seconds, before you hear the sound of the toilet being flushed from Robin’s en-suite.

Did that really just happen? It took your brain a little while to catch up to reality. This wasn’t a late night thought, or a spicy dream, or any other sexual scenario your mind conjured up. This was reality. You just got off to the sound of Robin Buckley’s voice. Moaning your name.

You masturbated with Robin fucking Buckley.

Robin has another early morning shift at Family Video, her darting out the door at a whopping 8am. Way too early for you to be fully functional.

But, you would be fully functional around midday, and Robin would still not be home yet.

You knew that Robin wore a cropped, ripped Blondie t-shirt to bed along with her blue pyjama shorts. She would sometimes change into them after a long day of work or classes, making it a real struggle for you not to let your eyes wander.

Your mind had been going crazy over the fact that Robin had been jerking off to the thought of you in that shirt. The sweet smell of her skin, her hand bunched up in the fabric, most likely pinching and swirling her nipple around through the thin material, her palm squeezing the flesh of her rounded breast.

It was too much for you. You needed that shirt. And what better way than to steal it when Robin wasn’t here to potentially catch you.

You first checked the small pile in the laundry hamper, making sure she didn’t shove it in the mix of dirty clothes. It wouldn’t be a shock after all, she probably ruined the fresh, fruity smell of the laundry detergent extremely quickly.

But, once that place was scratched off your list, you instantly headed towards her white bedroom door.

Pushing it open with your palm, you are greeted with a blue-patterned wallpaper. Her walls are adorned with many more movie posters than when you last visited her bedroom, ranging from “The Breakfast Club” to “The Terminator.” Her desk is a cluttered mess, textbooks lying open on random chapters with half-finished notes decorated with random little doodles she obviously got distracted by. But, the main character was sitting ruffled on her bed.

There it was, in all its glory. Your hand cautiously lifts up the fabric, instinctively bringing it towards your nose. You take a deep breath in, letting the smell invade your senses. You knew what sex smelt like, the pheromones hitting your nostrils instantly. The distinctive smell made your throat release a small whine in pleasure. It was perfect. She was perfect.

You debated taking the shorts as well, but you didn’t want to make yourself too obvious. So, placing the shirt underneath your arm, you exited her room and closed the door behind you.

She was definitely going to notice. But, you just had to play dumb. Pretend you didn’t know a thing. Pretend as if you didn’t sneak into her bedroom on purpose just so you could get off to the smell of her sweet, floral scent gracing her clothing. To the thought of her wearing that exact t-shirt to bed every single night.

No, that was nothing like you, of course. You definitely weren’t going to wear it later. And you definitely were not going to jerk off whilst doing so. And, no, the last thing you would do is purposefully be loud about it.

That definitely was not on your list at all…

You were getting ready to head to bed, water running at a cool temperature in your bathroom as you applied your face cleanser. You could hear the distant sound of huffs and puffs, a few objects falling to the floor on the other side of the wall, Robin’s trail of voice slowly approaching your room.

“Hey!” she half-shouts, her breath coming out in jagged pants, her hair aloof from rummaging through her room. Her blue pyjama shorts were already sitting comfortably on her waist, her long legs being accentuated, making it hard for your eyes to stay fixated on her blue orbs. “Have you seen my pyjama shirt? I swear to God I left it underneath my shorts, but I just can’t find it anywhere! I mean, maybe it could be buried in my closet somewhere and I was just being a klutz this morning, but why on Earth would I even put it in there in the first place? Surely I would’ve been functional enough to leave it in the most obvious place in my room, right?”

You keep yourself composed, effortlessly trying not to swoon over her rambles. It was one of the things that made you fall in love with her in the first place. You just loved it when she would go on and on about whatever was in that pretty little head of hers, whether it be college, work, or a new random hobby she had picked up during the week. Whatever it was, you would spend eternity listening to her if you could.

“Uh, no, haven’t seen it. Sorry, Robs,” you lie through the skin of your teeth.

“Huh, that’s strange,” she questions, thinking deeply as to where she could’ve left it, having no idea it was buried right under your cream-coloured, silk pillow. Meanwhile, whilst she’s deep in thought, you wash off your face and begin to brush your teeth.

She sighs in slight annoyance, “Oh well, I guess I’ll have to find another shirt. Or I could just sleep in my bra, of course—”

You almost choke on your own toothbrush at that statement. You already had a million images in your head on what you could fantasise about tonight, but knowing what she would look like on the other side of the wall? That erupted something completely new in your brain.

And it seems as if she was blushing too, her cheeks rising in temperature, the pink hue beginning to glow on the soft fat, “Not that you need to know that, of course. It was just my brain moving faster than my mouth, or, wait… my mouth moving faster than my brain? Um…”

You spit out the leftover toothpaste collected in your mouth, washing your toothbrush and placing it neatly back in the holder. You turn to face Robin fully now, using your palms to lean against the bathroom sink. There’s a new found tension between the two of you, your gazes staring into each other’s souls, searching for the connection you both desired to have.

As Robin rubs the back of her neck, small toned muscles on show which you try your hardest not to directly stare at, she yawns, trying to break the ever growing awkward atmosphere, “Anyway, I’m tired. Are you tired? Of course you are, you’re getting ready for bed. So, I should just…” she signals behind her, “Go, right? I mean, unless you want me to sta— No! You’re going to bed! Yes! So am I!”

She yawns once more, “See? Tired. So, I’m just gonna… skedaddle out of here, I guess. So… class, tomorrow, 10:15, yes?”

You hold up thumb upright, pursing your lips and nodding your head slowly, “Yes. 10:15. Bright and early.”

“Yes, okay…” she looks you in the eye once more, before swiftly turning her back and practically running to her room, “Night!”

“Night… Robs…”

You stayed in place, impatiently waiting for her door to close. And once you heard that click, you were leaping onto your bed, getting yourself comfortable against the headboard. You leaned behind you, grabbing Robin’s ripped Blondie t-shirt and throwing it over your head roughly. You wasted no time in dragging your fingers underneath the lining of your panties. You were gonna be loud, and you were not afraid to show it.

Your middle finger collected the dripping slick that was oozing out of your pussy, the pure thought of Robin describing herself as half-naked in her room just moments ago having a physical effect on your body. Once your finger was lubed up, it came to lazily rub circles around your swollen clit.

The pure motion had your body relaxing into the sheets below you, a soft sigh escaping your throat. Your fingers danced over the bud, moving from an up and down motion, to a side to side.

From the other side of the wall, Robin could hear the faint sounds of sharp inhales. She pressed her ear to the wall, stopping her search for her t-shirt once again to be met with a cry of “Oh, Robin. That’s so good.”

The sound sent shivers up her spine, your voice becoming louder and louder by the second.

In your room, you begin to experiment, dipping your middle finger into your hole, letting out a strangled cry.

You used your spare hand to massage your left boob in your soft palm. You squeezed and massaged it, imagining how many times Robin had teased her perfect breasts in this exact t-shirt.

You knew they were perfect, you didn’t have to see them to confirm that. You remember the way they slightly bounced at the pool party you both attended last summer. Water dripping down the gap between her breasts, boobs sitting just right in her red bikini, hardened nipples ever so slightly peaking out from beneath the fabric. It took all your willpower that day not to find some mysterious way to get your hands on her.

Meanwhile, Robin was dipping her own hand underneath her panties, body splayed across her bedsheets. “Need another finger, Robs” is what she heard from you, her soaked digit circling her entrance before diving right in, her hips setting a steady rhythm so she could fuck herself on it.

She imagined you sat on her chest, the front of your pussy rubbing up against her perked nipples as she fingered you slow and steady from behind, slowly increasing the pace to make you mewl and cry for her.

“Jesus Robs, that’s so fucking good!”

Robin let out a loud whine at your words, her finger hitting a particularly sensitive spot within her hole, her velvet walls clenching on the long and slender digit. She targeted it, curling it and deliberately dragging her finger over it again and again, her other hand coming down to join her in attacking her swollen clit, swiping it back and forth in her palm, a rough pace being set. Her imagination was going too wild in chime with your phrases for her body to react in any other way.

You almost paused at the sound of Robin’s moans, but the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing from your now two fingers sliding in and out of the delicate walls of your puffy pussy made you continue to be loud and proud about the pervy attitude you had towards your roommate.

Your mind conjured up the image of Robin between your thighs. Her soft, wet tongue gliding up the centre of your folds, paying close attention to your clit, swirling around in continuous circles. Your eyes were completely closed, the sight consuming your every thought, the made-up physical sensations transferring over into reality, as if you could feel her golden blonde locks tickling the inners of your thighs as she shook her head violently on your vulva.

Your moans were almost synchronised, the sounds bouncing off each of your walls, transferring through the thin material, desperately expressing your need and want for each other.

Robin’s bangs were stuck to her forehead, hips lifted off the bed as she rode her fingers fiercely. In the other room, you visualised those same ring-covered fingers stroking the delicate inners of your pussy, making your legs begin to shake, your rhythm almost being lost at the sudden violation.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach, letting out a loud, “Holy fuck, I’m gonna cum, Robs!”

And for the first time that night, you were pushed over the edge by the sweet sound of Robin’s voice replying to you.

“I’m gonna cum too, Y/N!”

The waves hit you like a vigorous ocean desperate for crash-landing, your legs struggling to stay put as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your palm was pressed flat against your vulva, fingers still buried deep inside you as you let your hips do the talking. They kept thrusting upwards, thighs shaking intensely as they tried to find some sense of calming.

Robin followed just after you, your cries of pleasure from your impending orgasm sending her over the edge also. She rubbed her clit powerfully, hand moving from side to side as her voice let out strangled moans and high-pitched whines. Maybe she was thankful for the missing shirt as sweat was dripping down her body like no tomorrow.

As you came back down to reality, you caught up with the situation. Your hand was still tightly gripped onto your boob, you having to remember to loosen your hold. You could hear Robin’s pleas of pleasure, your brain obviously knowing that she was cumming alongside you.

There was an empty silence from her side of the wall, before the sound of the water pipes working away signalled her washing her hands, a slight pang of disappointment in your mind as you thought of her sweet, lovely juices being carried away by the gliding water coming from the sink.

You stayed lying down for a moment, taking another smell of the t-shirt. You sighed in satisfaction as both of your smells deliciously blended with one another. Everything about your plan was working perfectly so far. Robin now knows that you are also into her, and the sexual tension was forever growing.

Now, there was only one more thing left to conquer in this grand plan of yours. Robin had to not only hear you jerking off… but see you as well.

You seemed to get through your 10:15 communications class with Robin without bringing up the events from the previous night. However, you would be lying if there wasn’t some unresolved romantic tension. You were desperately trying not to test the waters there and then inside the classroom, but you wanted to save that surprise for when Robin got home later.

Robin had another class after you, so it was the perfect opportunity for you to set up your little plan.

As soon as you got in the apartment, you threw your keys into the tray by the front door, taking your comfortable coat off and hanging it delicately on the hook. As soon as you entered your room, you got out of your stylish clothes and changed into something more comfortable. You decided that a long t-shirt and a pair of panties would do. After all, you were hoping by the end of today, all of those items would be on the floor in a messy, unorganised pile alongside another person’s…

You organised your pillows neatly, Robin’s Blondie t-shirt peaking out, almost teasing you for the upcoming events. One of your pillows is arched up against the headboard, whilst you stare at the other. It was covered in a pink pillowcase, dotted with white stars across the material. It was a beautiful combo, you had to admit, but sadly, that had to be abandoned. You grabbed the end of the t-shirt, before sliding it over the bare pillow.

Perfect. Your new pillowcase.

You couldn’t wait to leak all over it, leaving a permanent stain, your scent forever being marked on Robin. Every night when she went to bed, she could feel and smell the essence of your juices, the liquid consuming her entire being.

So, now you just had to be patient and wait. Robin’s second class of the day was luckily quite short, and an even shorter walk home than the one you had returned from.

Just another fifteen minutes until it ended. Another fifteen minutes until you could hump your pillow to your delight. Your door was perched open at just the right amount, enough for Robin to be able to see you the closer she got, but also concealing enough for it to seem like a genuine mistake. And of course… for her to hear you moan her name at the loudest volume possible.

Robin sighed as she entered the apartment, running a hand through her golden locks as she closed the door behind her. She throws her backpack down on the couch, about to head to the kitchen to grab a mid-afternoon snack when a certain sound can be heard down the hall towards the two of your bedrooms.

She stops in her tracks, the noises being ever so familiar and reminiscent from the night before. She shouldn’t be doing this. This is weird. This is creepy. This is perverted.

But she came with you last night.

She’s heard your moans many times now, and you’ve basically confirmed that you get off to the thought of her, so what was the harm in seeing you pleasure yourself in person? What’s wrong with a little curiosity?

She slowly tip-toes towards the sound, heading towards your bedroom. Your door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to take a peek through if she leant back against the wall.

She could hear some sort of repeated thudding sound now, almost at the right spot to see you and…

There you were.

Robin had to refrain from letting out a light gasp as she took in the sight of you. Joan Jett t-shirt adorning your chest, the slight peek of your red, lacy panties grazing across the… pillowcase.

She found her t-shirt all right. It was being used as a pillowcase, your pussy rubbing across it. You were letting out the sweetest moans, high-pitched squeals as your clit evidently bumped against the material. Your eyes were closed, one hand gripping onto the bedsheets, the other latched onto your t-shirt as your mouth hung wide open. Your hips were doing all the work, moving you up and down, up and down the pillow.

But, when you started moaning out her name again? Robin was a goner.

“Your pussy feels so good, Robbie.”

That final bit of restraint snapped suddenly. She quietly popped open the metal button on her jeans, sliding down the zipper so she could slide her hand under the waistband of her black boxers.

Her black-painted fingernail found its way to her swollen clit, the juices already leaking from her vagina, swirling around in a deliciously perfect motion. She used her other hand to grip onto the wall, almost smacking it by the sudden pleasure she experienced.

She tried her best to keep her eyes locked on your body, watching as you kept moving and moving and moving, not daring to slow down, too consumed in the pleasure to have a care in the world.

She let out little soft gasps, her eyes fluttering shut every once in a while to just take in the sounds of your voice calling out to her. However, one gasp seems to be too loud, as an “Ah!” leaves her mouth.

She has no time to hide herself, your eyes already snapping open and taking in her position. Her right hand is sunk beneath her underwear, bangs beginning to stick to her forehead as her fingernails are digging into the cream-coloured wall, fingertips turning red from the sheer pressure she had on it.

You smile softly at her. You wanted to put on this dominant attitude, that was your entire plan, but your world shattered when you saw her in that vulnerable position. She looked so pretty, so beautiful trying her best to keep quiet. You knew that you wanted to get her into this place, this state, but you didn’t actually prepare yourself for what that would entail. Your mind conjured up some pretty gorgeous sights, but nothing compared to the real thing. Nothing compared to Robin Buckley, being caught jerking off to the sight of you, rubbing your pussy against her pyjama t-shirt. It was Heaven on Earth.

“You were touching yourself…” you let out breathlessly, completely unsure of what else to say. The girl had rendered you speechless.

“Yeah…” she whispers back, before raising her voice a little and gulping, gesturing to you and your position on the bed, “That’s really fucking hot.”

There’s a stark silence between the two of you, a tension that neither of you know how to react to. But, finally, after so goddamn long, you ask the question you’ve been meaning to ask her since last fall, “You wanna come join me?”

She nods immediately and in such a helpless manner, “God, yes please.”

You climb off the bed, practically running up to her as she rushes to you, grabbing her by the back of the head and smashing your lips into hers.

It’s messy. It’s desperate. It’s passionate. But, you also wouldn’t want anything else.

Your hands are tangled in her hair, hers cupping your face as she opens her mouth wide, slotting her tongue in yours. She tastes absolutely divine, your tongues sliding hungrily across each other as you feel her pushing you towards the edge of the bed.

You shift back onto the mattress, lips never parting as she towers over you, slowly pressing your body down into the bed. She parts from your lips to leave a trail of kisses from your cheek all the way down to your collarbone. She pays particular attention to your neck, sucking and leaving love bites, finally claiming you as her own. With every sinking of her teeth into your skin, you let out a soft moan of “Robs…” infatuated by her presence.

She stops attacking your neck to softly look up at you, stroking your cheek with her thumb, the rest of her palm resting behind your ear, “How long have you known?”

“Since last November…”

“Jesus Christ, baby,” she mumbles, heading back to your neck again, “So long I could’ve had you…”

She leaves small pecks over the red marks that were now forming, “Had a good long think last Christmas Break… Realised I did actually like you…”

“I like you too…” you reply back quietly, eyes closing from the sudden delicate turn from her.

She looks up again, “Can I show you how much I like you?”

You take a gulp before nodding frantically, “Please, Robs. It’s all I ever needed.”

She smiles sweetly before bunching up the ends of your t-shirt, your arms instinctively rising above your head so that she could remove the item of clothing.

Her eyes immediately are drawn to your breasts, leaning down to place tender kisses on each of them and in between them, anywhere she could gain access to. She swirls her tongue around your left nipple, gently sucking at the perked bud, cupping the outside fat with her palm before repeating the movement on your other breast. You close your eyes and let whatever pleasure consume you be let out into the atmosphere, various soft moans and breathy whines escaping your throat.

She continues the trail of kisses from your cleavage, down to your stomach, leaving some more love bites in her quest, and finally reaching the waistband of your panties.

“Can I take these off?” she murmurs, eyes that were once a beautiful shade of blue just like the ocean, now consumed by an eternity of blackness, the absolute extreme lust filling her orbs.

“’Course you can, baby. You can do anything to me,” you weakly smile, the newfound nickname sending shivers down Robin’s spine as she hooks her painted nails underneath your lace panties, you aiding her by lifting your legs in the air so she can glide the garments off of your long, luscious legs.

She glides a finger up your folds, your juices collecting on her digit as your hips involuntarily buckle, your mouth letting out a “Gosh, Robs—”

“Such a pretty pussy for me,” she mumbles, smiling up at you through her lashes as another finger joins her in getting lubed up. And it doesn’t take long before she’s biting her lip and slipping her two fingers deep inside your hole.

Your hand instinctively grabs at her locks, head being thrown back before you quickly regain yourself, staring at Robin as she gasps herself, “God, they take me so well.”

She shuffles closer, kicking her jeans off where they had pooled around her knees, letting them fall to the ground at the edge of the bed as she curls her fingers inside you.

A whine forces itself from the back of your throat as she begins to set a steady pace, eyes locked on the way your juices slowly spill out of your vagina.

Your hand is massaging her scalp, gently tugging on her golden locks as you make eye contact. It’s so… trusting. So safe. You knew that she was likely going to ruin the shit out of you, but there was an underlying tenderness to it all.

You had been waiting for this for so long, and your dream was finally coming true.

She shuffles forward once more, eyes remaining connected with yours as her head leans closer to your pussy. She quickly looks down, making sure she is in the right position, before staring at you as she licks a big, long stripe up your folds, holding them open with her left hand.

A much louder moan is projected out of you, head hitting the headboard as your eyes roll to the back of your head. You try to focus on the way her tongue is perfectly circling around your clit, but your body is making it increasingly hard to do so.

The way her fingers were gliding along the inside of your walls, curling as they reached your g-spot, along with the way her mouth movements switched from kitten licks on your clit, to full on sucks, had your mouth letting out the most disgustingly loud sounds to ever grace it.

Your hips started to move, Robin not stopping you as they fucked themselves on her fingers, her mouth simply following the sporadic and scattered motions they were taking.

Your hand grips tighter in her hair, making sure to keep her in place, your body never wanting her to leave your pussy.

As Robin could feel your inner walls tightening around her fingers, she began to moan around your clit, the vibrations sending more signals to the ever-growing knot developing in your core.

“Robbie, Robbie. I-I’m getting close, God—”

She simply replies through more moans, head now shaking against your clit as her fingers targeted your g-spot, doing short, curled movements against your velvet walls.

“Robbie! Robbie! I’m gonna cum!”

And before long, the dam breaks. Your legs tighten around Robin’s head, her continuing her movements as she let you ride out your orgasm. Your eyes closed firmly, mouth hung open as strings of moans and whines left it, you just letting your body react in whatever way it needed to. Your vision had turned white regardless, the sheer power of your orgasm knocking the wind out of you.

When Robin feels you calming down, she pulls her fingers gently out of you, mouth detaching from your clit with a little ‘pop.’

She licks her lips, chin dripping in your juices as she comes up to softly kiss you, you tasting the familiar liquid on her tongue.

As she parts, she asks you, “How was that, my love?”

You cup her face weakly, your hands still slightly shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “It was perfect, baby. Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, pretty girl.”

You take a moment to rest, not wanting the situation to be over just yet. You wanted to pleasure Robin too. You couldn’t just let her watch you get off, then make her do all of the work. She was the one standing outside your room rubbing her pretty little clit to you after all. And personally… you wanted to play with that pretty little clit yourself.

“Robbie?” you ask softly, to which she replies with a quiet hum. “Can I take this off?”

You play with the hem of her t-shirt, to which she agrees, lifting her arms up so you can discard of the item. Leaning over to your side, you reach for the abandoned pillow, taking off the Blondie t-shirt and holding it in front of Robin.

“Could you wear this for me? Ever since I heard you two nights ago, all I could imagine was you fucking yourself in that t-shirt and all I wanna do is return the favour.”

Robin nods gently, “I’d be honoured, sweetheart.”

She lifts the t-shirt over her head, getting it comfortably situated on her body. All your fantasies were coming to life and it was perfect. You cup her face once again and give her another sweet kiss to the lips, taking in her cherry-flavoured lips and slowly lowing her so she is beneath you.

Careful not to make the situation too obvious and to protect yourselves from judgemental outsiders, you refrain from giving Robin any hickeys for tonight. That could be reserved for another private and intimate moment between the two of you, your brain desperately hoping there was gonna be one.

You press your lips to slight exposed skin at the bottom of her cropped Blondie t-shirt, lifting her boxers away from her mound, gripping her thighs and squeezing the plush skin, long fingernails digging in.

For that reason, you also refrained from fingering her tonight. You were no pro in doing it to someone else, and you were not risking giving Robin any cuts or potential infections from something that could be so easily avoided.

So, your mouth was about to be the star of the show. You lowered your attention to her vulva, hairs adorning her parts as you opened it with the pads of your fingers, careful not to hurt her. You slowly dived in, experimenting by focusing on her clit with a few kitten licks.

It was seriously that easy as Robin let out a moan and her thighs came to cage you in, your hands moving back to her fleshy thighs to keep them in place.

You experimented further, changing your actions from targeting firmly her clit, to licking from her hole, all the way up. You tried everything, seeing what made her twitch, jolt and whine the loudest, focusing on the elements that caused the most extreme reactions.

Robin’s grip on your hair was causing your face to be pushed more and more into her vulva, not that you were complaining, of course. But, when you looked up to see her right hand massaging her boob, you quickly realised you were missing the stars of the show.

You specifically asked her to put that t-shirt on, and you were actively ignoring it. How shameful of you.

You softly push her hand out the way, letting go of her thighs, not caring if they trapped you in anymore, so you could squeeze and fondle with her breasts. They felt perfect underneath the shirt, your thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples, a loud whine being let out from Robin.

“Baby, that feels so good, oh my God—”

You could feel her legs beginning to shake, so you followed her technique, shaking your head back and forth whilst sucking directly on her clit. You maintained eye contact with her, thumbs flicking over her nipples continuously whilst your other fingers delicately massaged the underneath of her breasts.

And that is what sent Robin over the edge. With a loud cry and announcement of “I’m cumming!” her thighs began to cage you in drastically. But, just like she did with you, you didn’t let up on her clit until you could sense her legs calming down and her breathing slowing.

However, something within you was telling you that you still weren’t satisfied. There was nothing wrong with what Robin did to you, nor what you did to her, but your body craved something else, something deeper.

It wanted to feel Robin against you.

“Robbie, I’m so sorry, but I need more. I need to feel you. I need to feel your skin on me. Properly.”

Robin was slightly unsure of what you were referring to at first. Your bodies had been pressed together many times already, but, with your body slowly rising and your leg hooking around her own, she completely understood what you were referring to, and she was not against it one bit.

Scissoring had always been one of your fantasies. You had envy for straight couples when you were first figuring out you were into girls as they had such an easy way to connect with each other fully, skin to skin, body part to body part.

But, when you picked up a lesbian porn VHS that one of your male gay friends got for you to hide both of your sexualities, you discovered the beauty of scissoring. And you had been wanting to experience it since.

And what better time than now. You look over your shoulder at Robin, just to get her confirmation that this was okay, which was signalled by an enthusiastic nod, her impatiently waiting for you to lower your mound over hers.

And soon enough, you did. The moan that immediately left both of your mouths in sync was so incredibly beautiful and sexy.

That immediate feeling of her juices mixing with yours was something you wanted to experience day in and day out. You thought being between her thighs was something you would want to spend an eternity doing, but this had just taken the top spot for you.

Robin’s legs were firmly planted on the bed, allowing for you to grip onto her knee and just underneath to steady yourself.

Not knowing exactly what to do, you alternated between rubbing back and forth, which felt incredible as it was, swirling your hips in a circular motion to try and locate her clit, and bouncing on her to hear the gorgeous sound of your joint wetness sticking together and coming unstuck.

At first, your bouncing allowed for Robin’s clit to slightly press into your hole, you letting out a variety of moans to signify the enjoyment of her entering you.

However, it’s the moment that you slow down, your body struggling a little from the rhythm, that your clits rub together. You both knew how perfect it was by your jaws dropping open, loud cries echoing across the apartment as you locked eyes.

Robin knew this was the pleasure she needed, so gripped your hips and began moving you against her in the correct motion.

You let her do all the work. You wanted her to feel the most pleasure she had ever felt in her life. Even though this was your fantasy, most of the enjoyable elements for you were the other person having fun. That was the one thing that always got you going in the pornos.

Both of your previous orgasms made you extremely sensitive to the movements of your hips, and as you felt Robin’s legs begin to shake, little grunts came out of her mouth as she rocked you harder and faster against her vulva.

You began pressing soft kisses to her knee, encouraging her with words of endearment and praise.

“That’s it, baby. Get yourself there for me. Wanna see you fall apart for me, pretty girl.”

Robin stared at you as she cried out, you taking over as you moved your hips faster than she could control herself. She simply squeezed the flesh of your waist, her hands signalling that she was getting closer and closer to falling off the edge.

“C-Close. So fucking close—”

You smiled in between the moans that escaped your sweet lips, “I know, baby. Can feel you twitching for me down here. You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum on my pussy?”

She nods, whimpering out, “Y-Yes, ah! Yes I am! Yes I am!”

Your hips are now struggling with the way she was replying to you, the knot in your stomach tightening for the second time tonight, fingernails scratching at the skin adorning her knee.

“Then let go for me, pretty girl. You got it.”

And with a loud cry, Robin lets go for you., the feeling of her juices leaking onto your pussy sending you spiralling right alongside her.

The both of you are moaning messes, legs shaking violently against each other as you ride out your highs in unison. Both of your names, along with a few expletives, fill the atmosphere, the smell of sex lingering in the four walls of your bedroom, dissipating to the living space of the apartment from where your door was still open when Robin had entered earlier.

As your orgasm comes to an end, you move your leg to the other side of Robin’s waist so that you can simply collapse onto her chest.

You look up at her with a sense of love and adoration in your eyes, giggling in your post-orgasm haze at the event that just occurred. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re both idiots.”

Robin takes a breath before replying, “Idiots? Yeah, most likely. But, I was debating for a little while longer after you, so it probably should’ve been me. Plus, you always talk about your friend Eric all the time, so I thought that you were into him or something—”

“Robs?” you interrupt her.

“Yeah?”

“Eric is gay.”

She purses her lips, trying not to laugh at herself, “Okay, that makes a lot more sense.”

You laugh along with her for a little while, before the atmosphere turns into a comfortable silence.

“So…” you let out, “I guess that means I should take you out on a date.”

“Really?” Robin lights up.

You look at her with a little confused expression as you laugh, “Yes, dummy. You think I wasn’t gonna take you out on a date after this?”

“Sorry!” she holds her hands up in surrender, “I’m used to girls at the lesbian bars around here fucking me and then never calling me back.”

“Ouch, that’s gotta suck,” you cringe, “Well, good for you, I can hear you through the walls, so if you ever need me, you don’t even need to leave your room.”

Robin blushes at that, her cheeks turning a rosy pink colour, before you turn the conversation back around, “Anyway, about the date. Where would you like to go, baby?”

Baby. That was something she would have to get used to on the regular.

“Um… There’s a new Italian place that’s opened up about ten minutes from here, we could try that? Plus, then I can impress you with my Italian language skills,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

And even though she was joking, it did turn you on just the slightest bit, “Italian sounds good. So… it’s a date?”

Robin looks down at you, her eyes glistening with warmth and affection, her mouth turning up in a wide curve, her teeth showing as she replies, “It’s a date.”

And with that, you had a date with the girl of your dreams. She was yours, and you were hers, and you were never going to let anything change that.

taglist: @robinsno1lesbian @agxxb @agenderrat

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

Kinkmas 🎄 № 1: Cockwarming

summary: you kinda (not really) bet harry to ‘no nut november’ and its finally december 1st. 

word count: 2.8k

reading time: 11 min

content warnings: 18+,cockwarming (obviously), teasing, grinding, brief fingering, fluff, clingy reader (and harry tbh), desperate, passionate p in v sex, pet names (baby, lovie). 

a/n: Welcome to Kinkmas!

_____________________________

You had told Harry it was a childish idea. But one thing about Harry, he was stubborn and hard-headed, and if you'd told him not to do something he was going to do anyway….well, he'd just commit to it ten times harder. And that's precisely what he did with No Nut November. 

He'd brought up the idea of participating directly after the two of you had some particularly mindblowing Halloween sex. You were giggling, wrapped up in one another, Halloween costume in pieces, still basking in your orgasm glow when you'd off-handedly joked how you couldn't believe you'd gone so long without sex like you'd grown accustomed to with Harry. He'd agreed, joking that he'd 'implode' without having you at least four times a week. Which led to you challenging him, lovingly calling him pussy whipped, and saying he couldn't last two days without you before he came begging for it. You know, because you've seen it before.  His record was actually three days. 

But still, if you think about it too hard, you'd realize that this, No Nut November, not having had sex with your boyfriend in a month, nonsense is all your own fault. You challenged him, and he swore to No Nut November because he's….Harry, meaning he also committed you to it as well, and now here you are. In bed, counting down the hours until December 1st. Literally. Minute by minute. And hour by hour. You've been trying to distract yourself with a book for the last hour, but you've not retained any of the words your eyes have been scanning despite flipping the pages. All you can think about is how Harry's barely touched you outside of light caresses and feather-light pecks to your lips. For. The. Last. Month. The material you were reading is by no means helping. All the talk of groaping, nipping, and ravishing. They seemed to be the only words you could pay any attention to. 

While you have made your disdain for Harry's unnecessary commitment known, Harry has seemed to be unphased by it all. It was your favorite thing about him and your biggest pet peeve. He was always so nonchalant. About everything, except you! Usually, at least, but much to your surprise, he's been able to contain himself and even turned down your many attempts to break his silly vow early this month. You were disappointed, and it may have led to an even deeper conversation that the two of you needed to have when it came to your relationship with sex and your sex life. And while you were grateful that this silly bet could be a vehicle for you to have that conversation, you were ready for it to all be done. You looked over at the clock on Harry's bedside table. 

One more hour. Forty-five minutes, to be exact.  

Harry was still in the bathroom, going through his nightly routine and trying to get a grip himself. Harry had been strong for 29 days, nearly 30 days. He could make it one more night. But, as Harry wraps the floss around his fingers, he tries to remember why he agreed to do this in the first place. To prove a point, he's sure. What point? He couldn't think of anything else but you to think of a decent answer. But he's noticed. How you've been huffing around the house all month, but especially today, hoping he'd break on the last day and give you what you've been desperate for. How you've been glancing at the clock every forty-five minutes since the sunset. How - 

"Harry, come to bed, will you?" your voice carries into the en suite from the bedroom. He can't help but smirk. You've been slightly whiny all day, all week, really, and he found it so fucking endearing. Knowing that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you. You'd deny it, but this arrangement the past month has been a fun challenge for you. He knows how much you enjoy being teased, and this month has been nothing if not one giant tease.  

So, not wanting to drag out your misery any longer, Harry rushes through the rest of his routine and comes to the doorway, leaning against it, smiling at you and your book, cuddled under the covers. 

"How's the book?" He asks. He always asks. 

"Meh. It's okay, not as good as the first one." You rush out, place your bookmark, and close the pages. You put it on your bedside table, turning off your light, leaving only the lamp on Harry's bedside table to illuminate the room. You pat his spot next to him, a slight pout on your lips when he doesn't budge from his spot leaning against the doorframe. "Harry….come on, bedtime. I'm exhausted." 

"Alright," he chuckles, pushing off the doorframe, "you just remember that." He says, peeping the cute set you'd decided to go to sleep in tonight. It was a silk baby blue, matching set that you'd just bought on a Cyber Monday sale. You figured it'd be the perfect thing to wear to break your temporary celibacy. 

"Remember what?" you question oh too innocently, through a yawn, your eyes already closed. 

"It's bedtime. Emphasis on bed." He flicks off the lamp on his bedside table and slides into bed in his spot behind you. You notice it after a few moments once he's comfortably tucked behind you, an arm around your waist. And you can't help the proud smirk that creeps onto your face. 

Your plan worked! 

You knew that the new set you'd put on, plus a few pouts, would get him hard…..he was almost too easy. So you allow yourself to wiggle around, to 'get more comfortable,' and be positive that you'd feel a grip around your hip, telling you to "be still, and go to sleep." It had happened so many nights this month, but not tonight. His tight grip is there tonight, but it's encouraging your movements. You let out a short gasp, biting your lower lip when you feel Harry's lips on the back of your neck. 

"I thought it was bedtime." you tease.

"It is. I just…..I was thinking…" he mumbles between kisses to your neck and shoulder and nibbles your earlobe.

"...yes.."

"What if I just slip inside. That's not cheating, is it?" 

"It's the last day." you giggle, wanting so badly to give him a taste of his own medicine but quickly losing any remnants of self-control with his lips doing wonders on your neck.

"Exactly, it would suck to come all this way to lose on a technicality, wouldn't it? So what do you think, Lovie? Did we still finish the challenge if I just - put it inside ya? Just missed you wrapped around me, baby." Now it's Harry who's whining, hand tight on your hip, grinding your ass down into his hardening cock. 

You have half a mind to turn him down. After all the struggle you've been through this month, just for him to want to give in on the last day? But he feels so good pressed against you, and his lips are so soft pressed against that spot on your neck that gets you every time. His voice grounds you back down to earth before you can get too lost in the feeling. 

"Baby…" 

"This was your idea," you say earnestly.

"You dared me." 

"I did no such -" Just then, he nipped at your neck before sucking on the sensitive skin under your ear, "No, I didn't. You're just a brat." you giggle, throwing the nickname right back at him…for once. 

He pinches your side with a groan. "Don't be mean. I'm in need here, baby. Come on." He continues his work on your neck, shoulder, anywhere he can reach. After a few moments, though, he's had enough and taps at your hip, signaling you to turn over. You allow him to flip you on your other side, facing him, his lips instantly catching yours. He slots his throat between your thighs, bringing your hips to grind down onto the flexed muscle of his thigh. You can't help but let out a moan of relief that slips from your lips into Harry's mouth, which he swallows for you happily. 

You allow your hands to twist into his curls at the nape of his neck, racking your nails down his scalp, pulling him closer. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you press yourself even further into him, your hips moving on their own accord now. 

"You sure you want to - wanna give up." you taunt, nipping at his bottom lip. 

"I. don't care. Need you. Please." 

In that moment, you realize that all he needed to do was beg. All he ever needs to do is beg, and you are absolute putty in his hands. 

You pull back from his lips just a few centimeters, leaning your forehead on his. But Harry was starved, chasing after your lips with his, nipping at your lips. 

"Please, baby." 

It was unnecessary, now. Harry's begging. You were already going to give him what he wanted, but the prayer rolling off his lips still makes your stomach flip. 

"S'not cheating." you rush out before crashing your lips to his once again, eating his moans. 

Suddenly, the two of you are a mess of limbs, trying to rid each other of your clothes. Granted, it was just your silk sleep set and his boxers, but the two of you refusing to separate lips made things much more difficult. Once you were both rid of the barriers, Harry rolled on top of you, burying himself in your shoulder, running his nose up your neck, nipping his way up, and moving his hips into yours. He lets out a hiss as his tip nudges at your clit, wet with your arousal from grinding down on his thigh.

"Fuck, baby." he takes his hand from your hip, snaking it between you two, "Gotta get you ready for me, okay?" He moans, leaning his forehead on hears, with a sweet peck to the pout that's made its way to your lips when you realize what he is doing. 

"Harry - just -" 

"It's been a month. You're not changing my mind, hey. Look at me." He says, nudging his nose to yours, "I'm right here. You just relax and take what I give you. Got it?" when you nod, without a word, he slips one of his thick fingers inside. "Got it?" 

"Mhm. yeah. Sorry." you moan, curling yourself into Harry's neck. 

"It's okay. Just relax; gotta fit me in there, yeah?" Harry coos at you, skillfully working his finger in and out of you. "Talk to me, baby. Missed you too much." 

"Missed you too, Harry -" You force yourself away from him enough to turn your head towards him to capture his lips in a searing kiss. "Missed you so much, you have no idea." you plead, "Please, more." You whimper, rolling your hips into his hand, and he obliges, slowly pushing in a second digit. 

"What do we say?" 

"Thank you," you whine out, rolling your head back on your pillow, allowing Harry the room to mark up your neck like he's been waiting for all month. 

"And, Lovie?" 

"Hmm." you hum, blinking up at Harry. 

"No coming," he smirked down at you, one hand between your legs and his other arm propping himself up on his elbow. You huff at him but nod your understanding, turning yourself into his neck for comfort while his fingers work you open. "There, you go, baby." He coos as he feels you relax on his fingers, making him want to add a third just for…safety. And he does, enjoying the cute noises bubbling up your throat with each drag of his fingers. "You're doing so good, baby. You think you're ready for me?" 

You nod frantically, rolling your hips up into his hand to convince him. "Yes, always ready. Please." 

He plants a deep kiss on your lips, pulling his fingers out of you, swallowing your moan in protest. He pulls away, licking his fingers clean, before maneuvering himself back, hovering over you. Harry grabs ahold of himself at the base, allowing you to roll your hips up, your clit rubbing up and down the tip of his cock.  

"Shhh, baby. I'm gonna give it to you but remember, I'm just - fuck - just filling you up, okay. Gotta stay still, I'm okay?" He huffs, nipping at your jaw, placing kisses anywhere he can reach. 

"Yes. Please, Harry, just -" 

"Stay still, baby," he smirked, holding your hip into the mattress. When he's satisfied with your limited wiggling, he slowly runs his tip up and down your folds a few times, lining himself up before slowly pushing inside, inch by inch. "Oh, Lovie." he groans into your mouth, "Missed you so much." he licks at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, wanting to be wholly consumed with you, and you allow him to be. When he's fully seated inside, you tighten your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being so full. The heaviness of him, how deep he was. It was heavenly. You enjoy his lips, kissing, and his teeth nibbling, his voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Enjoying the feeling of Harry. And with his lips working magic all over? You weren't sure how much longer you could just allow him to be in you without him being in you.  

"Harry," you whine, "Please move." 

"I can't." 

"Yes, you can," you grumble, shifting your hips up to meet his, just for him to hold you back down. 

"Stay still," he begs, now because he's losing his resolve and his slow ability not to finish inside you, with the way you're wrapped around him, rolling your hips and squeezing - but he's made it far. He can't give up now, not when he's so close - god, is he already tight? Just from being buried in you for a couple of minutes? You are quite literally fluttering around him, but still, he shouldn't - 

"No. Harry, look. You can move - look." you insist, turning your attention to the alarm clock on his bedside table. 

12:02 AM

In blinking red numbers. 

"This stupid bet is over, please, Harry - oh." 

He only hesitated a split second, trying to wrap his mind around what his eyes were seeing. But once it clicked. It clicked. And his hips seemed to be on autopilot, the way they slowly and sloppily rolled against yours, quickly coming up with a pace that worked magic for you both as he ground his pelvis into your clit. 

"Fuck, baby - you feel so fucking good." He moans, leaning his forehead against yours, your head cradled between his forearms. "I missed you so much." 

"I missed - I missed you too." you barely get the words out before you feel it creeping up on you, the tightening in your belling and tingling at the base of your spine. "I'm -" 

"I know, baby, me too. Shit." He hisses, kissing down your neck, speeding up his hips. You wrap your fingers in his hair, giving it an encouraging tug that you know he always appreciates. To which he groans in your neck, and you revel in it. You're so close that your skin starts to prick with heat, and all you can sense is Harry. "Come with me. Please, Lovie." Harry begs, so you do. 

You come with a bright white light flash behind your lids, your eyes snap shut, and you hold onto Harry as he holds onto you, groaning into the juncture between your shoulder and neck, biting his own lip. 

A few moments later, you're still on cloud nine. You're floating, weightless, as Harry cleans up the mess between your legs, not before admiring at first, though. 

"You are such a freak." you giggle, swatting Harry away and closing your knees together. "Clean me up or let me do it, but please don't -." 

"Don't, what? I like seeing the mess I've made." He smirks. You roll your eyes as he opens your legs and begins work cleaning you up. 

"Thank you," you murmur through a yawn. Already drawing the covers over you. Harry cleans himself off, tossing the rag on the floor to the foot of the bed, promising to put it away in the morning. 

"Sorry, by the way. Didn't mean to make the first time we had sex in a month a quicky." he chuckles, climbing into bed with your wrapping himself around your naked form. "I don't know what I expected to happen, though. Don't let me do that again." He sighs, planting a kiss on your cheek. 

"Never." 

🎄🎄🎄🎄

kinkmas 2023 masterlist

🎄🎄🎄🎄

[liliewrites]

" LICK YOU LIKE A LOLLIPOP ! "

a/n : hi little loves, here u go, a nice healthy portion of raidick content hehehehe

-warning/s ; (Consensual) SOMNOPHILIA, DEEPTHROAT. -pairing/s ; Transfem! Raiden Ei x Fem! Reader

(men and minors, please dni utc ! )

“Oh, my love..”

As you opened the shoji to your shared private chambers with your beloved archon after your nightly bath, to your surprise, your beloved was already there in the comfy silken sheets that you both share. 

You gently approach her and reach out to caress her cheek, only to be met with no response. If it were outside your private chambers, your hand wouldn’t have even come as close as 5 inches to her face and yet, your lover lay there peacefully. On one hand, you couldn’t help but smile knowing the level of trust your lover had put in you but on the other, you felt great worry knowing your beloved was also the great shogun of Inazuma. Despite possessing an artificial body, it’s still not easy on the mind to manage one whole empire on your shoulders.

However, as you admired your pretty shogun all bundled up and cozy.. your eyes found something else all bundled up under her pants too.

You couldn’t help but let out a fond chuckle. “Silly Ei, a sword remains a weapon even when unsheathed.. how reckless of you to leave such a lengthy and dangerous one in plain sight?”

You’re sure your lover wouldn’t mind it if you had a little fun now, did she? Besides, how could you deny yourself such a tasty treat?

You stripped yourself of your robes, and slowly crawled above your lover. You made sure not to stir her awake and as soon as you got yourself positioned atop her lap, you leaned down to gently pull down her pants. 

Lo and behold, a sword mightier than any other forged in Teyvat! Of course, wielded by the greatest blacksmith to ever live, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho. Long enough to ruin your insides, big enough to stretch you wide and gaping. In all your years of living, you were sure that nothing else was close to this caliber. 

Her excellency’s dick was already semi-erect, and it didn’t take more than a few gentle licks to the tip to get it hard and leaking. A satisfied smile settles on your lips as it comes to life, and your thumb swipes over the tip to smear the pre-cum leaking out of it around your hand. 

You give it a few strokes, before deciding to take the beast in your mouth. You hear a groan rumbling in your lover’s throat, but you don’t stop and start moving your head up and down. As you run your tongue along your beloved’s dick, you feel every single vein and bump and it makes you feel a throb. 

In the midst of your sucking and licking and slurping, you feel a hand unconsciously land on your head and then.. a little gasp. You look up at your lover, who’s stirred awake from your devious acts. You pull away for a bit, giving the tip a kiss. 

“My Excellency, don’t mind me.. I’m only making sure that I’ve provided my archon with adequate care and service.” You tease, giving her a sultry look as your hands start stroking her long- yes, hands - as both of your hands were wrapped around her dick. “M-my eternity, what are you..?” Ei’s not even given a chance to finish her sentence as you lean down to engulf the whole thing in your mouth again, pushing more to take it down your throat this time.

You feel her strong hands grasp your hair in a gentle grip, and she gently moves you a bit more lower to take the remaining inches. Before pulling you back up, and then down, and then up again. You loved it, loved that she was using you and setting the pace according to her needs and wants, as this was your intention in the first place - to please her.

However, the slow and gentle pace did not last long, and soon enough- filthy and wet gagging sounds were heard. You made sure to breathe through your nose as your beloved used your throat as she pleased, fucking it and grasping at your hair with two hands. Her hips were also moving along, making sure that she was thoroughly and fully burying herself with each thrust. 

“Mmhm, just a few more- m-my eternity-!” 

Her hips bucked and her legs trembled as her rhythm was ruined, and suddenly you could feel her thick and viscous cum spurting down your throat. You were a good girl, yes, you swallowed though difficult. As you were done, however, she immediately pulled away as you gagged and choked. Her hand immediately went to caress your cheek, her thumb grazing your lips. 

Oh you looked so delicious to her, that her dick immediately went hard at the sight of your cockdrunk gaze along with your lips glistening with her cum.

“My eternity, I apologize for being too rough.. but I just can’t help it when you keep pulling this.. trick on me.. again.” she sighs with a flustered expression, unable to meet your mischievous gaze.

“Hehe, oh hush, my excellency. You like it, don’t you? Now do the same to my pussy!” You exclaim, immediately leaning over to pepper her face with playful kisses.  

“M-my eternity-!”

please do not copy/repost any of my works! i only post here on tumblr and not on any other site. thank you !!

[highhhfiveee]

mint

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: you’re abby’s mint chocolate-loving babysitter. mike takes notice. wc: 1.3k tags: suggestiveness, swearing, fluff. *minor movie spoiler that isn’t a spoiler fr but kind of is* a/n: oi. this is my first official piece of fanfic on tumblr and i'm excited but also super nervous. i never knew what characters i wanted to write for as most of my fandoms are obsolete tbh (teen wolf and maze runner, i'm looking at you 💔) but after watching the fnaf movie and falling in love with j hutch like i'm 14 again, i wanted to try to write for mike!  i'm sorry if this story sucks tbh. i wrote it pretty quickly, did not edit it in any way (watch for grammar and spelling errors!) and i'm still trying to establish characters and plot and do all this silly billy worldbuilding, but i'll get better! i'm also taking requests for both fluff and smut, so if y'all would like to send anything for me to write, i'll def accept! like i said in my last post, i think i'm gonna redo my tumblr layout so i can feel like a true fanfic/misc blog lmao so ignore its under construction phase ((: i hope y'all enjoy this though bc i've been thinking ab mike schmidt all night 

i have sooo many ideas, but between last night and this morning, i’ve been thinking of abby’s babysitter!reader (bc fuck max). 

you’ve been channel surfing in the living room since you put abby down, working with her to lock down a nightly routine. ideally, she’d bathe, eat dinner (god willingly), brush her teeth, and then you’d be able to get her to lay in bed and doze off. some nights, this required dessert. 

“you just brushed your teeth though. it’s gonna taste gross.”

“not if it’s one of those mint chocolate things you always have.” you straighten up, eyes squinted at the child before you; she meant the small, sometimes melted, squares of Andes mint chocolate you always kept. they’d always been your favorite, a guilty pleasure in this fucked up world. 

you hadn’t been babysitting abby for long, and you didn’t realize that she'd been watching you crush the chocolates like it was light work. they were easy to eat, and once you had one, you found out how easy it was to eat another one, and then another one, and then another one until there was a mountain of crinkled foil next to your phone and chocolate smeared on your face. 

"please, y/n. just one," you didn't exactly know if it was a lie. abby was convincing, able to break you down with her eyes, pleading and puppy-dog like. "please." 

you cave, leaning down to brush her hair back from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on the skin. with pursed lips, you whisper, "fine, but tomorrow night. i have to get some more." 

abby does nothing but smile, eyes fluttering closed. you stay with her for a bit like you always do--watching the way her chest rises and falls, and how her features twitched with slumber. features scarily similar to mike's. 

of course she'd look like mike. they were siblings, no shit, but the resemblance occupied your brain. there was sweet abby, with her colorful clothes and scribbled drawings and persuasive aura, and then there was mike. 

you shake your head, giving abby another kiss before exiting her room. you didn't need to think about mike. he wasn't what you were here for. you'd come to abby's school as an aide and after she'd privately confided in you about her home life, you knew you had to help her. you would do anything for her, even if that meant taking care of her while suppressing the overwhelming school girl crush you had on her older brother.

mike was a bit older than you, which didn't scare you at all. guys in their early 20s were rarely mature, doing anything they could just to fuck; but guys in their late 20s, mike specifically, had only ever shown you couth, surprisingly. 

for nearly two months, five mornings a week, the sound of the door being unlocked would ring out. you'd turn to see sunshine pouring into the living room, enveloping mike's brooding figure in a radiant golden glow.

he'd hang his coat on the wall hooks, drop his bag down to his feet, and give you a small but warm smile. you'd try to not to embarrass yourself as you two made small talk, packing up your things.

you always left unscathed, but recently it'd been hard. you were always thinking about him, dreaming about him even; how his hair would feel between your fingers, how his hands would feel on your face, how his face would feel between your thighs. 

the thought is washed away, drowned out by the sound effects of a loud infomercial when the door opens, and you're turning and squinting against the wash of pale yellow on your face. mike steps forward with a, "hey, y/n" and you meekly raise your hand to wave. 

he hangs his hoodie up to reveal his shoulder blades flexing under an uncharacteristically tight navy blue sweater. you can't help but stare.

"just wake up?" his voice is raspy, but he's still facing the wall, rummaging in his bag for something. 

"um...yeah. brain's still turning on," you lie, tossing the thick blue blanket off your body. you didn't sleep at all, kept up with your thoughts and the last of your Andes mints (though you loved her, you couldn't give abby your last ones).

"hm," he mutters, finally turning to you but keeping his hands behind his back. something crinkles in them and you raise your eyebrow at the tired yet amused expression he takes with you. it's enough to make your body hot and you awkwardly pull at the collar of your shirt, fanning yourself off.

"hot?" the gravelly tone sends you into a giggling fit, shaking your head as you shoot to your feet. you have to leave before you do or say something you regret. 

"uh, yeah, it was s-super hot under that...um...blanket. i shouldn't have worn sweatpants to s-sleep," you stutter, nodding your head along with mike as he steps closer to you. this couldn't be the moment something happens, right? it'd been so casual between you too, very friendly, and he'd never shown any signs of trying to do anything with you before. why would he choose right now, so spontaneously? 

he stands before you, the slightest bit taller than you. you're able to see every pore, every freckle, every microscopic detail in his eyes and lips.

you open your mouth, hoping your heart doesn't fall out, to ask what's happening, when he reveals a bag of Andes mints, one bigger than you've ever seen.

your mouth stays open in surprise. "wh-"

"abby's been talking about them. i wondered where she found out about them but--" he nudges his head towards the coffee table, where a small mound of green wrappers lay. you swear under your breath, cursing yourself for not throwing them away like you usually do. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper, blushing beyond measure as you begin to frantically pack your things. "i should be more careful with that stuff."

"god, y/n, you're saying it like it's coke," mike chuckles. he sets the bag down on the couch and reaches out to you, placing his hand on yours as you shove things into your tote. "hey." 

his voice forces you to stop and look up. you melt under his stare just like you do with abby. the puppy-dog thing must run in the family.

"i feel bad about not being able to pay you yet, and i really appreciate all you're doing. abby told me that you loved those mints, so..."

"thank you, mike," you say over the sound of your pounding heart. you didn't care about the money, you didn't need it. being appreciated by someone who made your heartbeat resonate throughout your body was payment enough. "this is really sweet." 

"thank you, y/n. you don't know how much this means to me." You scoff, throwing your tote over your shoulder and looking down at your feet. 

"i'm always happy to help." you and mike stand facing each other for what feels like hours, the air as thick as molasses between you. his eyes were squinted, low and dark and intriguing.

you wished you could read his mind. what was he thinking? did his heart do the same thing as yours, wacking against his ribcage with no end in sight? did he stay up thinking about you when he was supposed to be sleeping, imagining how you felt, what you sounded like, how you tasted---

"see you later tonight?" his voice rocks you out of your trance. he's not thinking about you. he's tired, wondering when you'll leave so he can fall into his bed and doze off. 

"yeah. tell abby i said i'll see her tonight." your smile is tight as you exit the house, cursing at yourself as you get into your car. 

you didn't know how long you could go on like this. 

ya, i know this sucks and it isn't really anything but we're gonna work our way through these fics and blurbs to really develop a cute relationship (,: i will still be writing other fics for mike, and possibly using another babysitter!reader in a different universe, but as for now, we're gonna be rocking with these two (: (thinking that we’ll label her as 🌱🍫!reader)  all notes are appreciated (: thanks for reading!

[nottivagos]

f!pov & stalker!carlos sainz.

wc: 2,064 words

tw: stalkers, dark themes, brief? mentions of nsfw

a/n: HELLO!!! welcome back to notti's nightly novellas. this fic is heavily inspired by i believe @/emchante's stalker!au carlos as it really made my head drabble on and yap about silly stalker carlos sending anonymous notes to his darling.

Fear and Sex, He Wrote. ¦¦ CS55

A sick pool of fear churned and curdled in your stomach. Wide eyed and teary, your eyes frantically flicked over the thick, cream-coloured cards in your trembling palms. The light sweat made them sticky to touch, they were letters, very detailed ones,— but not just any letters. Graphic sex fantasies, crude depictions of objectifying yourself and the dreams this anonymous lustful sex pest wanted to do to you.

It wasn’t the first time you’d received such sickening things. Such things that needed to be kept away, right at the back of someone’s mind, never to be revealed into the public eye. Or in your case, the bedroom. No, this occurrence had been going on for longer than any woman dreamed of suffering— a controlling bundle of fear wrapping you up whole, swallowing any inch of free will you had with ease, shutting off your vocal cords whenever you wanted to report it.

You were an undoubtedly beautiful woman. Even you knew that. On the brief appearances you made at bars and clubs, your presence was definitely made noticeable. Men and women’s gazes loomed over your figure, snugly dressed in garments that presented your soft curves in ways unimaginable, but also tempting the more monstrous side of them to imagine what lay underneath whilst you kept basking in the strobe lights, cheaply made cocktails in hand, and thumping drum and bass the typical ‘nighttime’ spots had to offer.

Maybe it was some sort of sick joke? You always thought, as glassy, stinging eyes glossed over each bold mention of ‘fuck’, ‘cunt’, ‘cock’ and ‘come’ that the unidentified freak wrote. The harsh wording and setting created a burning imprint in your mind, a forced sex position or lewd scenario that lurked— haunting your days in its own predatory, violent way— keeping your poor mind on edge, leaving you uneased even inside your own home.

Loneliness and anxiety aren’t a pleasant mix. It’s a mix that makes your gut twist and turn, churning acidic bile which is begging to be retched into a basin. The feeling suffocates anyone, like a metaphorical hand wrapped tightly around someone’s throat, leaving them silenced and isolated. Afraid of speaking out. Afraid of unknown consequences, causing overthinking and psychological turmoil.

Even the mere postman knocking on the door created tight knots in your stomach, the burning feeling of upset overflowing— the sheer fright flashing across your eyes, causing your insides to drop and heart to pound, the healthy colour of your skin to become a ghastly pale, pasty and sick, as if the horror of another looming erotic, predatory desire was sat quaintly on your doormat inside.

You felt ashamed, how could you have let fear and embarrassment silence you like that? It was only a piece of paper, containing some mere explicit eroticism— maybe a little too pornographic in parts—, which had been completely normalised by the changing ways of society. That’s when it changed, this one was different. The anonymous author had gotten every little, tiny feature of your appearance to a tee. How the hell did someone get something so graphically accurate? Someone, comfortably distanced from you, was stalking you, your body, and your soul.

It was beautifully fucked up. Honestly it was. And that pretty little head of yours would never come up with a logical reason, answer or identity to the mystery sex writer who overflowed your mail.

Your head was too busy hung low, your pathetic sobs muffled by your wettened hands to acknowledge your next door neighbour, Carlos Sainz, peering straight through his blinds with a sadistic smile.

Oh, sweetheart. You stupid, stupid girl. You’re way too easy to scare. The Spaniard contently thought to himself, watching you unfold in turmoil, like a scared kitten left in the pouring rain. It was ravishing, really— for his own pride’s sake. He’d been able to mingle himself into your mind, graphic fantasies manipulated into words, whilst maintaining that hidden identity— that bit of untold freedom which made his hardness twitch as he wrote such lewd things— happily away from you.

He, in short, was proudly your stalker. The man solely behind the erotic fantasies carefully, yet sickeningly curated and gracefully handwritten which made your lips tremble and heart sink.

Your relationship with Carlos was, in your opinion, completely platonic. Maybe a little too over-friendly sometimes, with his gentle touches and sweet nothings, but it wasn’t an issue for you. If anything, you latched onto it. Grasping onto that cherishing feeling, that little smidgen of hope when he showed the signs of caring about you in your predicament. He was the first person you’d been able to crack up the courage to tell, after he tenderly brought up his concerns for your distance from the neighbourhood, as if you were a ghost of the lively girl you used to be.

It was like a dream, an endearing one, at least. You’d been met with loving, soothing and somewhat addicting words, delivered by his thick, distinct accent that drawled and murmured like gooey treacle, whilst also being so gingerly touched as if you were a fine, pure piece of porcelain— easily breakable— in the eyes of the tanned man of thirty.

But underneath that facade? Well, those ‘innocent’ words were way more sinister; quiet degradations and malice which crumbled your psyche word-by-word, like a mason carefully chipping away at the stone to perfectly craft his newest statue.

It was bliss to Carlos. He was meticulously spinning this ‘safety net’ for you to rely on, whilst actually the poison and venom drawing you back to him with every horrible phrase on each card that stacked high with the various others collecting dust in your flooded letterbox. Every striking pornography he scribed drew you back to him, and he was more than welcome to accept you back into his open arms.

The reality was horrific, really. But you’d become so accustomed to it, the comfort becoming an overpowering drug, a strong magnetic force, always making— pulling you, even, to come back crawling to him.

Clutching the card tightly, you shoved it into your trouser pocket, before brushing the stinging weep away from your reddened eyes with hasty movements of the back of your hands. A soft sniffle escaped, a hiccuped sob muffled as you wiped a tissue across your snotty nose, then you rushed out of the door.

Your destination was ingrained into your mind, the scenario and situation like clockwork. Your only desired embrace being Carlos’s, as your mind went on autopilot, guiding you directly to your neighbour’s house.

He was already waiting for you. Your predictability was becoming amusing to the Spaniard. The movements were inevitable, a cycle so firmly fixed into your mind that even if one thing was altered slightly, you’d be a confused wreck. He liked that. No, he loved it. Something in that twisted mind of his had happily adopted whatever this whole ‘comforting’ thing was months ago, in the early days of his erotic, anonymous filth.

“Oh, pobrecita,” he drawled, his tone as light as a feather, opening the door to your emotional state, “come in. Come in. Let me hold you.”

He ushered you into his house, quickly closing the door on the piercing cold outside. Large, strong arms then pulled you into an almost suffocating embrace, with Carlos pressing his nose into your hair, planting a tender kiss on your head.

“Shh, it’s okay,” the Spaniard consoled with a coo, a large hand brushing away some stray strands of hair which had messily stuck to your damp, burning cheeks.

He tutted softly, muffling your sobs in with his chest, cradling your head as you cried. “Breathe, nena.”

You seemed to melt into his warm closeness, face nuzzled into his chest as watery eyes dampened his new shirt, but Carlos seemed uncaring. Despite not fully having you, you were still his darling, in his own disfigured fashion, the sinful anonymities just luring you closer and closer into his den, but for now he’d settle with you in his arms— the bedroom, sex, and the awaiting marriage could wait— even with the sobs, despite his deep hatred for them.

Only he could make you cry. A sick possessiveness, God forbid, that only he was able to get out of you. The anonymous notes Carlos left in your letterbox were merely tame in his eyes— well, that's what he believed in his own sick mind.

You delved into your pocket with a jittery hand, thrusting the newest addition of anonymous sex cards into the Spaniard’s grasp. His large hand came to claw your head in response, softly pressing your face against his chest again, the coarseness of Carlos’s palms a contrast to your smooth, silky locks of hair.

His voice rumbled deeply, his hushes cooing your weeps away, whilst his lips were soft on your temple now and again as he read the card with a level of assertiveness.

He couldn't help but chuckle at his own words. God, he was hauntingly accurate in his fantasies, his imaginative depictions of you in all sorts of positions— the list of lewd thoughts in his head long, as a sly smirk crossed his lips as he kept your face out of sight of his.

Sliding the card into his own pocket, he purred, “I think you're overreacting, cariño,” the hot breath fanning onto the shell of your bare ear. “Surely it's a coincidence,” he continued, his words deliberately slow and intoxicating, “any girl like you could've been wearing that dress this… person speaks of.”

There was something about his words that made you gasp. A sharp intake of breath whistling through your teeth, which left your heart drumming in your chest. Words as smooth and comforting as sweet honey, laced with poison. Caring words of malice, caressing your fear. Manipulation, raw, and at its finest.

Maybe it was a coincidence. Anyone could've worn that dress, so easily described and painted through Carlos’s sick, anonymous words. The same dress he yearned to ‘jerk his aching cock to’ whilst inhaling your sweet scent off of it.

Slow fingertips trailing your back broke you out of your frenzy of thoughts. Little specks of goosebumps trailing in their lazy tracks. Carlos’s other hand soon followed, cupping your stinging, reddened cheek oh so softly, his large, brown doe eyes swallowing you whole in one gaze. You could spend years, eternities even, swimming in the intricate specks of hazel.

The hand on your cheek, grazed your soft flesh, the roughness of his knuckles causing a flicker of heat to rush to them in his wake. Carlos’s lips formed a small smile, to which you responded with a loud sniffle, and some more relaxed breathing.

Who knew a few sweet nothings and hand grazes could stop you from being a whimpering, emotional wreck, hmm?

Swallowing the lump growing sourly in your throat, you replied, “Y-yeah, maybe you are right.” The reply was a mere whisper, before you added quietly, “Just… Just a coincidence.”

“Just a coincidence,” the brooding Spaniard repeated lowly and so thickly, it left you shivering slightly. A little flutter forming in your stomach at the intensity of your shared gazes once again.

The bolts of lightning sparked as you both swam in your shared silence— a moment of blissful intimacy, so unspoken yet perfect and oh so palpable. Air thick around you, Carlos broke it, clearing his throat abruptly.

“Why don't I run you a nice bath, hm?” he suggested smoothly, the tar of his accent thickly smothering your senses. An arm slowly snaking before wrapping around your waist snugly, “I bet you're feeling disgusting after shedding all those tears.”

Pausing for a moment, you felt safe in that moment. “I'd like that, yes,” you responded softly, your widened eyes meeting the tanned Spaniard’s for one more time. “Thank you, Carlos. For everything.”

Your sweet lips formed the smallest of genuine smiles, which Carlos happily flashed back. There was an intensity in his eyes, burning deep below the surface of his facade, “Then let's go and get you cleaned up then, corazón.” Carlos finally murmured again, walking you up towards the staircase in his home.

Word by word, chip by chip, slowly breaking you away. He now had you just where he wanted you to be, stuck, so obliviously drunk on his poison in the spider's web of his own design.

like what you see? make sure to leave me some notes in my inbox if you want to see more stalker!carlos in my nightly novellas!

[blu3-l0v3r]

୨ৎ Transfer student ୨ৎ pt.2

-----------Clumsy----------

During class, you had stayed quiet, too scared to actually socialize with anyone.

When the teacher had called on you to answer a question, you had stuttered without meaning too, turning red immeditaly, rushing to end your sentence.

"Fuck this" you mumbled to yourself when the teacher finally stopped asking you questions.

You heard a small chuckle from the person next to you, causing you to turn your head around.

With curious eyes, you see him.

A dark haired boy, with a kind smile, and a sweet but somewhat nervous aura.

He must have heard you stutter, and this just made you even more embarrased.

His eyes meet yours, and he immediately notices your nervousness.

"Sorry, i wasn't laughing at you" he says, kindly, still smiling.

Something inside me clicks, and my shyness seems to disappear in a second.

"It's alright, don't worry about it. I'm Y/N, I'm new here* I say, trying for a smile

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yuta Okkotsu"

He sticks out his hand, and I shake it.

The rest of class, I spend talking and chatting with him about silly things and videogames.

"Hey, one of my bestfriends loved videogames, you should talk to him!" Yuta says excitedly. His eyes light up when he talks about his friends, I find it endearing.

"Oh sure. Is he in our class?" I ask, starting to actually get curious about meeting this boy.

I didn't really speak to people much, so the idea of making TWO friends a day was quite exciting to me.

"Oh yeah, he's sitting at the back* Yuta points to the end of the class, and I follow his hand.

He's pointing specifically at a platinum blonde haired guy, who was indeed sitting in the last row, eyes glued to his screen and fingers moving fast on the keyboard.

Next to him was probably one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. She had forest green hair, small and Bayonetta-like glasses.

She had a slightly serious look in her eyes, and as she loked at the boy and then to his screen, she scoffed.

She's scary, I think to myself.

"Earth to Y/N" Yuta's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I shake my head as I remember what the convo was about earlier.

"I'll give you his number" he says kindly, as he texts me his friend's number ; me and Yuta had exchanged numbers earlier.

"Alright, thanks Okkotsu, see you around" *I say, smiling, as I get up from my seat and leave to the bathroom.

In the afternoon, I was just sitting on a bench, scrolling mindlessly on Instagram reels, laughing to some stupid meme, when I see a message pop up from an unsaved number.

I ignore the message, discarding it as probably a scam.

Later at night, as I was finally getting to bed for my nightly episode of Gilmore Girls, i re-open my messages app, finally remembering the text from earlier.

Seeing as he he doesn't answer quickly, I put on Gilmore Girls, and finally fall asleep.

GUYS WHAT DO WE THINK??

SHOULD I KEEP ON GOING WITH THE STORY

taglist: @tomikixd @notveevee

[pedge-stuff]

Hey... can I request a pedro × reader please?

They making dinner together and things get hot and heavy in the between

normal night (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

thanks, as always, for everything.

obligatory warning: light smut, allusions to romance

summary: no such thing as a "normal night," apparently.

—————————————————————————

Normalcy is such a fucking privilege.

It's all you can think about, salting thin strips of eggplant over a colander in the sink. Something about bitterness, or moisture. There'd been a whole article about it in the Sunday Times a while back, and Pedro had sworn its effectiveness since.

Your excitement was almost comical. Here you were, practically vibrating in anticipation of something that most people experience nightly: a home cooked meal with your partner. Eggplant parm, a side salad, and a bottle of red wine. That's all.

It's a rarity, though. Pedro in New York while you're off work and neither of you have any meetings or appointments past 5pm. He'd had a late-afternoon coffee with an old NYU classmate, but based on FindMyFriends, he was already headed back. You'd been looking forward to it all day— the kind of normal evening that most people take for granted.

You've got the radio on, albeit playing from the speakers of your laptop. Email up, but minimized— 5pm was a strict deadline tonight. No work. Just salting eggplant and stirring the simmering pot of tomato sauce on the burner.

The jangle of keys in the lock has you grinning.

"Hey!" Pedro calls. It's a little silly, how your heart still flutters, all this time later.

Arms wrap around your middle from behind. Squeeze tight for a moment, just the way you like, ribs compressed by the strong swell of his biceps. A scruffy cheek tickles the base of your neck as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, placing a kiss over the fabric of your sweater.

"Hi baby," you hum, leaning back into the embrace. There is coffee on his breath, and traces of citrusy cologne on his collar. "Have a good afternoon?"

"Mhmm." The affirmative rumbles from his chest, against your back. "Smells good in here," he offers, kissing your cheek before pulling away. "What can I do?"

There is a light blush to his cheeks; a tad too much sun today. He refuses to wear sunscreen, claims Chilean blood and four decades in tropical climates, and often pays the price for his confidence.

"Open the wine," you instruct, replacing the lid on the sauce pot. Turning the tap on, over the colander, you make quick work of rinsing the eggplant.

You don't dance, but the way that you navigate the kitchen around each other feels choreographed. He hands you a bowl without looking, for the breadcrumbs, as you pass the bottle of wine. The music has him swinging his hips, just a little.

It didn't use to feel this comfortable. In the early weeks of your mark-match, Pedro's house felt more like a museum; you sat stiffly on the couch, afraid to so much as muss the pillows, or use the wrong water glass. Afraid any little thing would break the illusion of bliss that had enveloped you both. It is easy now, to look back and laugh.

Pedro winks at you, pulling the last of the cork from the bottle with his teeth. A new little trick. You can't help the rush of warmth that spreads through you.

"What next?" He passes you a glass, which you tap lightly against his.

A glance at the timer on the oven. At the stairs, through the back doorway to the kitchen. At the hollow of his throat, flushed with the warmth of the kitchen, unblemished. His two sweatshirts are two too many.

"I think everything's good in here," you manage, closing the distance between you. Worm a hand beneath the layers to splay across the hot skin of his stomach. "We've got some time."

— — — 

Dinner does not burn, thank god, though the side salad had to be abandoned for time. The sleeves of Pedro's pajama shirt are soaked with pasta water, and your flannel bottoms have somehow caught a streak of tomato sauce, but the choice to change into comfy clothes was ultimately a win.

You settle at the table, pleasantly warm from the wine. If your jaw is a little sore from the pre-dinner palate cleanser, well, the eggplant won't be tough to chew.

Though the evening has been nothing but relaxing, something has Pedro agitated. He'd been fine, earlier, but now he can hardly sit still. There's a nervous downturn to the corner of his mouth; mustache twitching slightly while he fiddles with the silverware.

"You can say no," he starts, which is never a good sign. You can say no typically precludes +1 invitations to stuffy industry events, or equally unpleasant obligations at which he wants company. (Of course, you don't usually say no. But, still...)

The distinct lack of eye contact is making you sweat. He's staring at his plate like the eggplant owes him a grave debt.

"Pedge." You reach to still his hand, gently squeezing until he looks up. "Whatever it is, you know I'll say yes."

"I want you to mean it, though." A pause, as Pedro pulls your hand to his lips, placing a kiss to the center of your palm. "I don't want you to say yes for the sake of saying yes."

"I won't. You're scaring me a bit, though. Are we hiding a body? "

His laugh is strained. "No, no. Sorry. Sorry, this is— I didn't want it to— ugh," he shakes his head. "Can we start over?"

Before you can respond, he pushes back in his chair, rising from the table. Pats himself down, fumbles to find something in his back pocket. Takes a deep breath, and— 

Oh.

Beside you, right at the kitchen table, between the dog bowls and the sink full of dirty pots and pans, Pedro drops to one knee.

"Pedro—"

"I said I was gonna prepare a whole thing," he mumbles, "but I don't think I can wait any longer. Also figured you'd kill me if it became a spectacle."

It is your turn to laugh, wetly, choked on the lump that has formed in the back of your throat.

"I know we're marked, and we live together, and have two dumb little dogs, and more or less already act like an old married couple. I just thought maybe filing joint taxes could be cool, too."

Pedro sniffs, swiping once at under his eye with the hand that also holds a small velvet pouch. "Waited a long, long time to meet you. Kinda gave up on the mark altogether. But it was worth it, all the waiting. I would very, very much like to spend the rest of my life with you. And then some."

You're on the floor before you feel yourself move, kneeling before him. Cup his face in your hands. Brush away another errant tear that's spilled from the corner of his eye. This sweet fucking man.

"I love you," Pedro says quietly. "More than I ever thought possible."

"I love you, too." His lips are dry and warm when you press a chaste kiss against them. "Thank you for waiting for me."

You move to stand up. "Come on, your knees must be killing you."

"I need to ask the question!" He pouts.

"Oops, sorry. Please continue, Mr. Pascal."

"Balmaceda Pascal, thank you."

"I don't think we can hyphenate, babe, it's gonna be too long. They'll run out of room on the certificate."

"We can't get the certificate if you don't let me ask you this damn question!"

Finally, carefully, a gold band is extracted from the velvet bag. Simple, but stunning. Two stones are pressed to the center, small, side-by-side. "They're, uh, our birthstones," he says quietly. "But we can change it if you don't like it, it's OK."

You shake your head, unable to form a coherent word around the swell of your heart, threatening to choke you.

"The parm's gonna get cold," Pedro exhales shakily, locking eyes. "So I was wondering if you would do me the honor of marrying me?"

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with your stupid heart. But when it does, you're already moving from the kitchen, to the back doorway. Pedro, rising from the floor, looks fucking confused.

"One sec, one sec," you call, taking the stairs two at a time.

After a moment, you return, box in hand. "I've been carrying this around since May. Sit down."

Stunned, Pedro obliges.

"To answer your question," you start, lowering to replicate his kneeling position, "I have a proposition. I'll marry you if you marry me."

Inside the box, another gold ring. You remove it with a shockingly steady hand.

Pedro pauses, eyes catching on something: a familiar date, engraved on the inside of the ring. Without his cheaters, he is forced to hold the ring away from his face, squinting at the numbers.

"Is this..."

"The day I knocked."

[ironmandeficiency]

modern lotr character headcanons

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin, merry, frodo, sam, arwen, eomer, eowyn

word count: 745

summary: random thoughts abt lotr characters if they lived in modern times

a/n: this is literally just silly shit, enjoy

boromir listens to old country (conway twitty, george jones, loretta lynn, etc.) and does not tolerate anyone insulting the opry legends

he also listens to divorced dad rock (hinder, nickelback, theory of a dead man, etc.) which gimli will sometimes jam to as well

gimli lovingly maintains an old-as-dirt bench seat ford truck despite there almost constantly being something wrong with it. ignores legolas’s badgering about him getting something more reliable

obviously legolas drives a hybrid and he almost acts as if this fact makes him better than gimli (not in a dickish way, though)

horse girl aragorn.

frodo is the epitome of shy emo boy with the black skinny jeans & death cab for cutie playing in his air pods

merry is the golden retriever in the “golden retriever in love with the black cat” trope 

aragorn and arwen host game nights and various other parties for their friends, but neither of them can cook so they just order delivery (or sam hijacks their kitchen for the hours before)

pippin has a large follower base on social media bc of his drinking songs and other inebriated antics that are usually recorded by whoever happens to be with him that night. usually it’s eowyn & merry, and the three of them will shake some major ass to megan thee stallion

sam goes to open mic nights at local coffee shops to people watch. he will never perform himself, but it’s nice to watch people he knows do their thing

eomer accidentally goes viral on tiktok when eowyn records him doing some dumb shit. never lives it down

the amount of joy gimli gets from going to rage rooms is almost alarming

arwen has a very thorough skin care regimen that she introduces to aragorn, and it becomes a sweet nightly routine for the two of them

eowyn & eomer don’t allow anyone to talk shit about or annoy the other bc that’s their job fuck you very much

frodo has a shitty immune system but sam’s homemade soups seem to always heal from the soul outward

sam is the little spoon favored by the resident neurodivergent

frodo is the resident neurodivergent

yes they’re dating

arwen is always the dd

when it comes to birthdays, don’t ask boromir to remember anyone but faramir’s. hell, he forgets his own birthday sometimes

legolas is the best at remembering the birthdays of his friends but forgets his own

they have to remind each other of their own birthdays when that time of year comes around

merry is always the favorite audience member at a drag show

arwen & eowyn never dress like they’re going to the same place when they hang out

gimli says southern grandpa idioms unironically — “as useless as a screen door on a submarine”, “higher than eagle titties”, “busier than a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest”, you get the idea. merry keeps a running tab of said quotes

boromir is the “we’re not getting a dog” dad. said dog ends up being his best friend & the sole inheritor in his will, fuck them kids

aragorn & gimli have their own moonshine still they think is perfectly hidden from everyone

that does not include merry & pippin, who are booze bloodhounds and immediately knew where to find it but swore to secrecy as long as they got more than everyone else

frodo sips fruity little drinks because he can’t shoot whiskey

sam can drink in the way only a divorced middle-age man can despite not being a divorced middle-aged man

eowyn cannot drive for shit & the several dents on her car prove it. the only reason her insurance hasn’t gone up astronomically is because she just. doesn’t report any of it

said car has a fuck ton of bumper stickers with all sorts of silly things

gimli can’t ride a bike AT ALL but has a motorcycle, make it make sense

he goes on bike rides with eomer when they have the time & the weather is nice

merry & pippin are two halves of a whole idiot at every given moment

eomer LOVES 90s and 00s country music but is kinda picky about newer country (he is a massive fan of cody johnson but will throw you through a wall if you talk about morgan wallen in his presence)

arwen dances in the rain & literally never gets sick from it. merry is insanely jealous of this fact

frodo’s favorite video game is animal crossing: new horizons & has very sound opinions on what villagers are the best (fuck you, rodney)

[prettyboykatsuki]

Ari… you know you must elaborate on dad Gojo… do it for the father fuckers like me ❤️

cw ; dead dove: do not eat, dark content, father / daughter incest, manipulation / coercion, reader has their own set of problems <3, use of the word daddy + papa at some point 18+

a/n ; answering u aleks. my brother (gn. pun not intended) in arms. also this is just. thirst becausde my brain is rotted with no sleep

i am . just . well

i just wonder you know. how gojo copes with you bringing boys home. the thing is gojo loves you so terribly. he has since the minute you were born. fatherhood is a little different to mentorship and it is so different having a child mold by the palms of his own hands to raise.

gojo is a busy man through your childhood but he's adoring. but he's sweet and tender. all through his life - you may as well be the only person who never resents the fact he was born. always looked at him so warmly, approval seeking and affectionate. you were always a little shy - but when gojo was away long enough you would come crawling into his arms and crying.

that habit of yours never changes. you have all encompassing love for your father and you let it embody you. it doesn't occur to him how much his absence and frivolity ruined you until you're twenty and you come onto him. and he must've ruined you a little too, because he doesn't have the courage to stop you. gojo can't see it as wrong, though he tries his very best.

but ultimately the scales of wrong and right do not like the same for gojo satoru as they do everyone else. gojo encourages you to take what you need. there's a sense of normalcy as the lines blur, a relationship that is so rotted from the inside out that you can't remember what it looked like before. rot is a strong color, a strong taste.

even ruined things can look beautiful, he figures.

when you start bringing home boyfriends - it's then when gojo realizes that these feelings can no longer be solved by seeing you or hugging you or playing father. gojo is the man of the house. the one of your life. so he makes it a habit. leaves the crack of your bedroom door open at night when they come to visit, and lets himself into your room. you're the same, groggy as you stir awake.

he gives it time. makes sure they take the guest bedroom right across the hall. he attends to you, a nightly routine. his darling girl who always cries for her father, for her papa she loves so much. maybe it's only natural you get along so well with him. he starts slow. kisses gently but works his way down your neck. you've grown into a woman, with soft breasts and hips that feel firm and heavy in his palms.

but he likes when you leave those frilly little socks and shorts on when he fucks you. his beautiful daughter who accepts him. who wants him. he wants you too. he wants the boy you've brought home to listen to the sound you're making as he sheathes his cock into you so slowly.

his hand on your tummy as you face the door, your back to his chest with you both on your side. gojo loves the way you whine when he ruts himself into you so slow and so deep. your crying is comforting, you know? to him anyways.

gojo fucks you good and hard and makes sure there's enough hot noise to travel through the house until that silly boy you've brought over wakes up. gojo stares with a wicked smile when he defiles you right in front of them. sometimes they look on in horror.

other time they look on in awe and arousal, as you pussy swells and stretches for him. as you cum so sweetly all for your daddy who you love so much. those boys always last a little longer than the others.

you always come crying to him when you break-up, and gojo always cheers you up how he knows best, rocking you in his lap - so deep you can't do anything but cling to his shoulders.

a feeling he wants to keep trapped in time forever and ever.

[lxinesux]

Monachopsis

Ships: Vampire!Reader x TASM!Peter Parker, Vampire!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: After getting access to your memories, Wanda is forced to relive them. She remembers the night you fell in love with Peter.

Content: Second person POV, Fingering (r receiving), voyeurism, masturbation, cunnilingus (r and w receiving, mild),frottage (w and r receiving, mild),creampie, Jealous!Wanda, Inexperienced!Peter

Warnings: Death, Slight dubcon, Derealization, depersonalization,Blood, Mentions of skin being bitten,ripped, bruised.Internalized homophobia/biphobia.Mild emetophobia warning.

a/n: Soo, some context. This is set in Victorian times in between fics that may or may not be written lol. The memory she’s living through is a flashback that takes place before Pietro is made into a snack. Anyway: here’s porn!!

The memory attacks her just as she was laying her head down for her nightly rest. 

It was one of the many you fed her during your…entanglement. She hadn’t wanted to name it. To make it real. 

But the pulse between her legs was real. 

Her new master, Peter Parker. And you, the murderer. 

He was easy to seduce. You’d known he wanted you. All of that sweet, tender courting you'd been ‘oblivious’ to. Humans were fickle. He was nothing but a day old fruit fly. Humans, you thought, could never feel love. Not true, deep, everlasting love. 

No, Peter just wanted one thing from you. And you had no obligation to your family to adhere to the silly societal tradition. No fear from the church or God. 

You wanted it too. So you would let him have it. He needn’t work so hard to gain what you would’ve given freely had he asked. 

There was no motive when you stepped into the library besides this. Full as a tick from your hunt, you were hungry from something else. 

You'd had many lovers in your bed, between your legs. Women, men. Some you used for sustenance after and some you left alone with not but your scent on their skin. It had been too long since you’d had company. Besides, Peter was the only one who had piqued your interest this much. 

He tried to keep measured, cool headed, even keeled. But he was a human man. You kept kissing, kept touching. Urging his mouth open with your insistent tongue, encouraging his wandering hands. His lust tipped him completely into oblivion. 

She can see all of it in full detail. Every feeling, every molecule. It was as though she’d lived it; in her own mind she had. When you’d opened her mind, she’d fallen into yours. Now, she must cope with these visions as they come. 

Your back against the wooden bench in his library. Your long, soft, pale legs open for him, his hands moving up your thighs in quiet reverence. You chuckle. Where, you ask yourself, was this composure when he was manhandling you and sucking your tongue just moments earlier? 

Your cunt is glistening, wet and warm. Your core should not be so sinfully decadent, but is that not the trap you lay for your victims? You reach down to touch, your fingers dipping between your folds, running along them before circling your clit. 

His eyes follow every movement. Bewitched. Even with the love before you, he’d never seen something so lewd. 

Neither had Wanda.

You slid a finger into yourself, then another, your thumb not stopping what your fingers had started. She can feel your pleasure slowly building. You aren’t full enough, just testing your own body’s restraint. 

She closes her eyes tight. She can barely breathe. 

She reaches down, under her bed dress. Her pussy is soaked. She mimics your movements. The strange feeling it brings runs parallel to yours. 

Of course you knew how to pleasure yourself. It turns her stomach to realize you were trying to show him how. 

Peter-Master Parker-he didn’t know how to fuck you properly. You wanted to teach him. You would teach him. But she didn’t need teaching. She had /seen/ you. 

You moan. It’s like a siren call. She whimpers, her juices dripping down her thighs at the noise. His cock is aching through his trousers and you’re so amused. You take pity on him, unbuttoning his pants and sliding your small hand to wrap around him.

His pre-smeared erection arouses you more. It repulses her. The only comfort she gets is the wet sounds as your fingers move faster inside yourself. He hisses and moves closer between your legs. 

“I was correct, wasn’t I, Doctor? It’s been so long, hasn’t it? I’ll take care of you…” 

She doesn’t have a prick like Master Parker. but her hands would do-her fingers. Her fingers were smaller and could find that place in your cunnie faster. She could make you cum again and again, the way she knew you’d liked it with the house maidens you’d had in Milan. 

The idea of her own fingers inside of you makes her keen. Her own cunt tightens around nothing. 

You spread yourself open, urging him to do more than just look. 

“Put your hand inside me,” You tell him. 

“Christ,” He says. 

She could fill you up, better than he could.

One hand tangles your hair to tilt your head back. His mouth is on yours like a man starved. The other moves down your half clothed body down to your weeping sex. 

You gasp into his mouth as he fulfills your request. Your mind is going foggy with desire as that dull pleasure in your gut grows sharper. His fingers are longer, thicker than your own. They curl in as he fucks you, like he’s beckoning you. He’s a quick study, your little human. 

Your dress is falling off you, the top opening a sliver, exposing more eager, shameful skin. The beginnings of your breast, the enticing expanse of your collarbone, the white column of your throat. Her master is greedy though, he wants to block her view it seems. He forces his mouth onto all the skin he can reach-licking, sucking, kissing.

Your skin tingles. He’s gone almost feral. You can feel his dull teeth against your warm flesh. Your veins engorged with borrowed blood make you look almost human-causes his love bites to just barely bruise under his mouth. 

The blood used to form the bruise would take it away from your belly, leaving you hungry. He doesn’t know any of that yet. He’s too busy marking territory that would never be his. Not truly. 

 She wants to bite. 

Over and over. Break open your skin while she pleasures you. Free all of that stolen blood and watch it roll down your cold flesh. How would you react? Would you smile knowingly, like you are now? Would you be afraid, the way Pietro was when you destroyed him? 

Her mind lingers on your face. Your kiss swollen lips, petals of a flower, turn into a smitten smile as he takes you. 

You throw your head back. As though a creature as ancient as you would actually find such pleasure in this. But, ever to her surprise, your pussy clenches hard around him. 

His cocks throbs and leaks onto your hand in response. 

“Please,” he groans into your skin. 

“Please, what?” You’re panting, your chest heaving like a bitch in heat. 

His cheeks tinge redder, “Can I…”

“Say it, Dr. Parker,” You delicately cup his chin, forcing him to look at you, “Tell me you want to fuck me, Peter. I’ll let you. But you must tell me how badly you need it.”

Your hand stops. You remove it from his trousers. His hand does not. Obedient dog. 

She’s rubbing harder, feeling herself growing wetter. You’d murdered her brother. She hated you. But you’d shown pain, regret in the visions you shared. She remembered how you’d starved yourself, tried to satiate yourself with the blood of an elk just to regurgitate it. The fear when Peter had caught you. The immediate guilt once you’d come up from draining him. 

Why should she trust you? You had clearly hexed her, planted a cursed seed that was growing. 

She slides a third finger inside her dripping core. 

Her mind reforms the memory without her consent, running without end. In this new memory, it’s not Master Parker you're pressing yourself against in the library. 

It’s her own hands running up your milky thighs. You’re a horrible murderer, but your skin tastes sweet-like salted honey. Your lips taste sharp like blood, your tongue slots perfectly against hers. 

You’re still half clothed in your finery, but stripped for easier access. You’re sucking on her bottom lip while your hands fondle her. You pinch her nipples through her dress, making them pebble under your touch. 

Your hair is coming down, haloing your face. She’s starved, her cunt aching. Her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears because of how bad she wants. 

“You can touch me,” You’d say, “You can fuck me and I’ll fuck you.”

In her fantasy, the library is alive with the sound of sex. Her own cunt full of you, while she feverishly attempts to prove that she was superior to her master. 

She thinks of moving onto the desk, where all of his research lived. Laying flat on her back while your sweet cunt hovered over her face and your damned mouth breathed warm air over her clit. 

It’s a thought you must’ve left behind inside her but her mouth waters at the thought. You know exactly how she tastes. She knows the same. Exactly how to lick. Where to suck to get more of your sweetness into her mouth. You stick your tongue deep into her cunt and play lazily with her clit as a reward. 

She’d cry out, try to buck her hips into your face. Too bad for her, though. Naughty girls do not get their prize. You would move that clever mouth off her and press yourself harder onto her face. She’d be grateful for it. 

An obedient dog. Just how you like. 

Or maybe you need not be so greedy. Maybe you’d rub against her. Slot yourselves together, rub until you both came, screaming. 

You liked that too. You’d learned that in the time before, when you were a concubine. 

You had not needed to desperately clamor for attention or fulfillment for thousands of years, but maybe you’d be so desperate, you’d rake her skirts up and angle yourself against her. Your cunts kissing, your wetness attaching you. Your tongues back rubbing against the other, tasting each other. 

She knew everything about you. She could destroy you. And yet she’s thinking of you like this. Like a degenerate fool with a mind full of vulgarity. 

It only makes her angrier that the memory snaps back into focus, back to Master Parker’s forehead resting against yours. 

“Please let me inside. Please let me fuck you.” He’s a victim but a willing one. He sounds so pathetic, pleading with you. His voice shakes, “I need you…”

You kiss him, chastely. “How badly?”

His fingers move out of you, start slowly rubbing your clit. You can control your arousal, heighten or dull it at any point. But he was already doomed. So completely undone by you that he whines like a child. 

Your mind is aflame with visions of what this newfound power over him might bring. Your own fingers wrap around his wrist. He watches helplessly as you drag it to your mouth. Your lips wrap around his flesh. 

It’s too much for Wanda to watch you suck your wetness off his fingers, your eyes pinned to his. The act means nothing to you. You’ve done this a million times and would do it a million more. But there’s something in his liquid golden eyes that shimmers. 

Love. Foolish. Eternal. So very human. 

“More than air,” He says breathlessly, “More than food or drink. More than sunlight. I’d spend an eternity plunged into darkness if it meant I were with you.” 

The sincerity in his voice is ice water on your skin. You kiss the palm of his hand, “Have me then.” 

The final tether snaps. 

An eternity in darkness. The courting had been serious. He wants more of you than flesh. 

Noone in centuries has ever asked that of you. 

His cockhead pushes into you, you cry out. You knew he was thick but to feel it was another thing entirely. He grips your hips, more semi bruising. He has to stop or he will come undone inside you too quickly. 

He groans, “I’ve thought of this far too often…it’s better than my dreams…” 

This part of the memory she hates. 

He keeps filling you. He fits perfectly into your cunt, like it was made for him. Wanda hisses at the invasion. She can feel how stretched you are around him, how snug the fit is. She can feel the warmth in your belly that came with his confession. She can feel all of your humanity and vulnerability in this moment. 

“I love you,” He breathes against your flesh, “Stay with me, please.”

His thrusts are shallow at first; he doesn’t want to leave this warm vice until you’ve given him his answer. 

She wants the answer too, though she knows it. She’s played this vision a million times. You cannot go back to your home in Italy, with your other obedient servants and beautiful homes and artists falling over you without her bringing you to justice. 

There’s also another, repulsive reason trying to make itself known. It sneaks in amongst her confused, muddled feelings. 

“I will stay with you.”

He pulls his prick out of you, just enough for you to miss it, before he slams home again. 

She cannot escape this more than she can escape her own impending orgasm. He keeps babbling his romantic nonsense, thrusting in and out, faster and faster. The sound of his skin against yours, the creaking of the bench beneath your combined weight. Your moans and cries muffled by his tongue, teeth, lips. 

He’s trying to devour you. Take all he can in case you’re lying. 

You are not. She knows you will keep your word. 

Your heart begins to beat. 

It has not in thousands of years. Not since the day you were turned. 

It’s the most beautiful sound in the world. 

She hates it. She wants to reach into the memory, reach into your chest, and rip it out. You do not get to keep it with what you did to Pietro. 

Things blur suddenly. Like a sick consultation, she briefly takes her master’s place. It’s her own hand you’re guiding to your breast. You hold it there and she can feel the weak but steady rhythm. 

Your cunt feels amazing around her as she pumps into you. The sounds of your sex filling her ears and the soothing notion you’re this wet because of her nourishing the very fabric of her soul.

“Do you feel that?” You ask her, “Only you do this, Wanda. Only you and no other give me this much pain and pleasure…”

She, Peter, whatever being they are combined, come together. They grab your hips-the image flickering back and forth between she and him. Her thoughts are his, his thoughts are hers. 

They can’t let you up, can’t let you go. 

You love them back, you want them. 

You said you’d stay. 

They’re going to make you their wife. 

They’re going to impregnate you, give you a child. They’re forever going to devote themselves to you. 

Your heart beats for them. 

For him. 

Your heart beats for him. 

She’s forced out as a participant as he comes apart deep inside you. It isn’t fair that he gets to experience you tightening like mad right after. Your cunt milking him, your back arching off the bench to hold him close. 

And your face. Your parted lips, your closed eyes. 

The noise you make when your own orgasm cracks like thunder inside you. 

She melts around her fingers.

He keeps you plugged even as he goes soft. You love that you can feel him still. He gives you soft kisses along the face and neck, kisses each of your fingers.

“My love,” he whispers to you, “My darling. My dove. My one…” 

She feels hollow. If someone cut her right now, she would surely not bleed. Her orgasm did nothing but worsen the strange unnameable pain in her body as she watches you both. 

You giggle, your body is warm. You’d been diffused in sunlight. He loves you, in spite of what you are. You want to keep him safe, to keep him near you. You can’t hear his thoughts, not like the other pitiful humans. You have to trust him. You give this gift willingly. 

You want forever with Peter. 

You want to turn him. 

You detach from her. The memory loses shape and turns to mist. It evaporates and suddenly Wanda is back in the servant’s quarters. 

Alone. 

As sleep blessedly comes to take her, a startling thought pierces through her. 

Why not me?

[sweet--sweet--muffin]

My Millennial Tree Cookie Headcannons bc why tf not-

• Millennial Tree is bigender and doesn’t mind going by any pronouns (but mainly likes to go by She/Her and He/Him) I got this headcanon from a silly thought where Millennial Tree is just Father Time in the body of Mother Nature, and this thought spiked in my head when I found out he’s a  m a n.

• She likes to go on a morning or nightly stroll throughout the forest. She be singing like a Disney princess while doing so. (as if she isn’t already a Disney princess).

• Can also tame even the most vicious animals.

• Her smile is so gentle and serene, it can calm the most furious storm

• While Millennial Tree might seem nonchalant about anyone threatening him, it doesn’t stop him from protecting the land from anything that may endanger it and gets worried about how the effects of said threat has impacted on the ones she holds dear. He’s especially worried about what DE and Pomegranate did to Wind Archer Cookie when he was Night Raven, because she can imagine the suffering he had to endure and has to reassure Wind Archer that it’s not his fault for letting the darkness consume him.

• Millennial Tree is basically like Oogway from Kung Fu Panda in a way

• She fucking loves Wind Archer dearly and for l i f e andhefeelsthesamethoCOUGH. MT is very appreciative of him as her guardian and protector, but sees him as something more to her than that and cherishes him as her dear friend (being called a “friend” by the Millennial Tree, the very being he is sworn to protect, bewildered Wind Archer at first but felt honored and humbled by the sentiment)

• MT is very fond of Carol Cookie, Mint Choco Cookie and Clover Cookie, along with their music, but is also curious about the kind of music that DJ Cookie makes. MT and DJ Cookie formed an unlikely yet unique friendship over this.

• Speaking of which, due to being foreign to the current period of time, Millennial Tree occasionally messes up figures of speech and has a tendency to use very outdated slang in an attempt to socialize with her fellow Cookies. (Her fellow Cookie friends would find the effort adorable)

• He wished there is something he can do to undo Sea Fairy’s curse, but SF appreciates the thought and insists that this is something she has to fight on her own. MT’s kindness towards her is one of the things that brings warmth to her heart and it’s also one that motivates her to fight her fate.

• She can manipulate the height of her own Cookie form, but her real height is that she’s fucking b i g. Like bigger than any of the dragons’ cookie forms and the OG legend squad (Moonlight, Wind Archer, Sea Fairy and Fire Spirit) had to hold in their laughter at their height differences, much to the dragons’ dismay.

• MT loves to lay in flowerbeds and admire the sky. He sometimes ends up falling asleep and his sleeping position in laying down is messy, looking like he fell from the 7th floor. Wind almost had a heart attack when he thought that he’s dead but MT is actually just sleeping. His snoring is soft tho-

• MT has a one-sided rivalry to Timekeeper and finds the effort in TK being a stronger time user than her kinda concerning bc even though it might not seem like it, MT actually cares for Timekeeper’s well-being. Timekeeperishellagayforherbutshewon’tadmitthat-

• He met Adventurer Cookie in The City of The Millennial Tree by the time where MT’s curse was broken and when Adventurer came to check what the hell was going on as he had heard a big sound in the forest, he saw Millennial Tree. Adventurer basically fell for his beauty and just... asked him so many questions about the city (and abt MT himself ofc). They became friends after this and Adventurer would share his stories from his adventures whenever MT asks him about them out of genuine curiosity.

• The dragons don’t like her. Not one bit. Probably the one thing they all can agree on. They never thought about her serene, warm smile when they saw her. Pitaya definitely didn’t thought about how feisty and bold MT can be, especially when she was made aware of Pitaya’s awakening. Ananas definitely didn’t thought about her consideration and thoughtfulness in protecting the land she calls home. Lotus definitely didn’t thought about her soothing voice that would probably be in tune with their own melody when they’d play their mandolin. Lychee definitely didn’t thought about how fun of a playmate she could be when they saw her playing with the Cookiemals. And Longan definitely didn’t thought about how the mere thought of MT herself brings an abundance of warmth in their chest. Yeah. They all hate her very much.

• Fire Spirit once burned MT’s head branch for fun when he’s out in the forest and didn’t realized that branch belonged to someone. Or rather attached to someone- And that’s how those two met. MT was pretty chill abt the encounter despite his head branch being burnt tho.

• MT explained her meeting with Fire Spirit to Wind Archer and that’s how his tension with him increased, thinking that FS is actually gonna burn MT (which is an accident, at least to Millie).

• Butterflies like to crowd land on his branches and MT finds it adorable.

[bakumi]

ik izuku gets so fucking hot n bothered when you put on an apron… mfs breeding kink going wild w you dolled up like a little housewife cooking dinner. he’d lose his shit and fuck babies into you before you could even finish chopping the vegetables <3