#pi: ask reply | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

k-hotchoisan · 6 months ago

Text

backseat serenade

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?” You ask.

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces.

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram.

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours.

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression.

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth.

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life.

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist.

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures.

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi.

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person.

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door.

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”.

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head.

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him.

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh.

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat.

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs.

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind.

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden.

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put.

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you.

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch.

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear.

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.”

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer.

And you wonder how far you should take this.

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties.

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress.

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart.

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear, “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air.

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical.

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation.

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.”

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point.

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit.

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out.

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet.

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again.

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet.

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit.

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon.

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers.

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath.

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you.

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more.

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark.

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building.

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile.

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door.

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment.

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it.

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter.

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell.

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off.

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him.

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed.

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away.

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights.

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven.

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants.

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust.

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you.

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more.

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods.

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger.

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out.

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again.

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants.

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink.

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy.

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp.

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you.

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses.

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat.

You sure know how to push his buttons.

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb.

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out.

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more.

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip.

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high.

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath.

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his.

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you.

But he pulls you along with him.

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

6K notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

Text

Knockout*

Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.

Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence

Your stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.

And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.

He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.

Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.

You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.

You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is.

“Hi, Cherry.”

Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring.

You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.

Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.

“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”

Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”

“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”

“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”

“As much as you want.”

He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.

Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”

“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.

And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different.

So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.

“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”

And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy.

“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.

Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Good. Better now.”

The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles.

“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you.

There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall.

“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”

Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”

It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him.

“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”

“Are you?”

He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”

“Why?”

He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”

It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.

But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.

He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”

“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”

He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”

You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one.

“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”

Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”

“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”

Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”

“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”

The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him.

He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.

That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.

He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.

And from that night on, you became his Cherry.

He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.

And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:

He always pays with big bills.

He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.

And his name is Harry.

Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.

“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back.

You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”

“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”

Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”

“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”

You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”

However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”

His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner.

You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”

You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”

The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.

“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”

Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”

You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.

You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.

Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.

“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck.

Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”

“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”

The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.

“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.

But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”

Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.

You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.

“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”

And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”

Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”

His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.

The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.

Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied.

And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.

Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request.

Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.

With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.

However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”

But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.

The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.

All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.

There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.

You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.

“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”

“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”

Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.

“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”

Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”

Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”

“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”

“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"

Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.

“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”

With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.

But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.

He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.

And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.

Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.

You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante.

Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down.

“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.

“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”

You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.

And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”

“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”

He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”

He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly.

“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”

“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”

And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.

And truth be told…you think he already knows.

His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.

“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”

“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”

“Oh…how?”

His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”

“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”

The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting.

But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe.

You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.

“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”

A beat. Then, “…every night.”

The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.

And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.

But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.

It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.

And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in.

Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.

It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.

“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”

You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.

“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”

A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.

“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”

You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.

And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.

“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”

And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else.

“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”

He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit.

“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”

He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.

“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”

You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like.

Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.

His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside.

“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”

You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm. Promise.”

The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”

He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.

Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him.

You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.

Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.

Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.

“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”

Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips.

They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable.

Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs.

Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.

But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer.

“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”

You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.

Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.

He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”

You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”

He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”

Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.

When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs.

“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”

He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.

And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.

He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly.

He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”

“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”

His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you.

You’ve never been so happy in your life.

He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.

His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds.

You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.

“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”

You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.

The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier.

“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”

It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.

He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows.

It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.

He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.

Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.

And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”

“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”

You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.

“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”

He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him.

You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”

You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles.

The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.

And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.

You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.

Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.

By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good.

He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.

Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.

“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”

The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.

But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.

He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.

He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum.

You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.

Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.

Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.

He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.

Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart.

You’d keep him forever if you could.

You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.

“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”

And you know he will.

“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”

You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.

Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”

You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.

He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”

You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”

“Is that right?”

Another shake. “Get bored.”

“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”

Now you nod, making a noise of agreement.

He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”

You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.

“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”

And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out.

“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”

“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer.

“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”

He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.

The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.

You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”

And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.

Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.

His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.

“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”

And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater.

“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”

“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”

And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out.

You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you.

Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"

And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.

“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”

And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.

But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”

“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”

“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”

“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”

“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”

You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.

He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”

Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.

But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.

He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?”

That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”

Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.

He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.

This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle.

And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort.

When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”

You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.

“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.

“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”

He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”

And you decide you like the sound of that.

Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.

He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.

You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence.

You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall.

You hope one day you get to find out.

“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”

You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.

“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”

You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.

“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”

He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you.

His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”

He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.

“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”

The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.

“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”

The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you.

“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”

And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.

But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye.

“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”

And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”

The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.

But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.

He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.

After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.

“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”

Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm.

And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”

“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”

His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”

“I’m…trying. I think.”

“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”

His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.

You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour.

It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”

This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”

“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”

His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.

But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”

You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”

Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”

And you choose to believe him.

You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.

A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.

You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.

When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.

But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.

But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06.

Your stranger isn’t here.

I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞

Next Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge

4K notes · View notes

bluesidez · 8 months ago

Text

Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.

content warning: nothing but fluff...for now ��

word count: 1.3k, not proofread

Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.

Cherry pies? Ruined.

Apple fritters? Apple crisps.

Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.

Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.

Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.

You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?

The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.

The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.

Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.

As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.

“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.

You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.

Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.

You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.

You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?

By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.

You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.

Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.

One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.

It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.

“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.

“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.

“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.

You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.

“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”

He tilted his head at you as you whined away.

“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”

You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”

“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”

An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.

“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”

You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.

Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”

“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.

“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.

“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”

You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.

The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.

You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.

You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.

Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.

She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.

“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.

“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”

Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.

“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”

She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”

Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.

“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.

“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.

“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.

“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.

“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”

“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”

“Grandma.”

“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”

“Grandma!”

There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.

“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.

You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.

divider by: @benkeibear ❤️‍🔥

the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗

#love lab drabbles 💊#Firefighter!Miguel ❤️‍🔥#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara x gn!reader #miguel 2099 #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #x black reader #miguel x black reader

1K notes · View notes

bunnys-kisses · 1 month ago

Note

Hi bunny!! Got a Halloween special request here!!

May I have a chex-mix and mummy hand pies with a side of haunted lemonade and white claw served by Franco Colapinto, please?💕💕

halloween bakery - bakery menu

the spooky menu is still up till nov 2nd! there are tons of spooky prompts for you to choose from! thank you to those who have submitted, i'll be working on them ASAP in the lead up to halloween!! thank you and i hope you love this! i'm surprised by how much people have loved my colapinto fics since i started posting them! so thank you <3

chex-mix: "did you go as a whore this year, or did you just forget a costume?" + mummy hand pies: "be careful of the full moon!" + haunted lemonade: size difference/kink + white claw: slutty costumes served by franco colapinto (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, slutty costumes, couples costumes (red riding hood & wolf),

franco waited for you to get ready for the halloween party you two were attending. the two of you were out in austin for the grand prix weekend and got roped into an early halloween party.

he leaned up against the wall near the bathroom and knocked on the door, "are you almost done, amor? did you get stuck in the costume?"

you laughed on the other side of the door, "you think so low of me, honey." you opened the door and franco caught sight of what you were wearing.

franco's eyes went wide at the sight of you. oh, there was no way you were leaving the hotel room like that.

"what happened to the other costume?" he asked as he held onto the doorway to the bathroom and leaned in towards you. he remembered it vividly, it was still a red riding hood costume, but it covered a fair bit, "did you want go as a whore this year, or did you just forget the costume?"

you replied, "it was too hot for austin, so while you were on the track. i went out and got something else. i mean, we still match." you didn't see the problem with it. as if you didn't look like you were doing a porn shoot in an hour.

he raised his eyebrows, "amor. c'mon." he gestured, "i was supposed to be the big bad wolf. the whole, 'be careful of the full moon, little red', and you were supposed to be a little more... covered up." he picked at a stray strand of thread for the costume. it wasn't even sewn right.

"it's fine, honey." you tried to move past him to get your heels on. but franco took you by the waist and pressed your backside up against him.

he bent up against you and kissed at an exposed part of your neck. he kept his arms around you tightly and said in a soft time, "you don't get it, my love. you look like a whore, and i hold you in higher regard than that. i don't want others getting the wrong idea about you." he rubbed the front of his jeans up against your backside.

"yet you're turned on by it." you remarked then moaned as he pressed further against you. you whimpered a little and he felt a shudder through him.

"of course, but i'm your boyfriend." he pressed you further to him. showing off his size and strength compared to you. he would've made a good big bad wolf if he wasn't so painfully hard for how scantily dressed you were.

"well, i have nothing else to wear." you remarked. and then a gasp left your lips when franco tore the skirt right at the seam.

he remarked, "you could've bought something a little more expensive." then let the fabric fall to the floor. he then snaked his hand between your legs and rubbed your slit over your panties.

you looked like a whore as he pleasured you and eventually he grabbed you to bring you to the bed. you ended up on it and he got everything else off of you. you tried to joke, "my what big teeth you have."

he grabbed you by the hips and bent you almost in half. you sticky slit on display for him. he replied, "i wouldn't be worried about my teeth, amor." then rubbed his barely clothed cock against your slit. your wetness stained the front of his dark blue briefs.

you swallowed, you knew franco was big. he had always been big compared to you. when you gave him your virginity, he spent an hour fingering you so he wouldn't bruise you. but tonight he knew that tonight he didn't care if he bruised up your insides.

he got his t-shirt off and his briefs, both of you were naked as franco kept you bent and your pussy on display for him. he felt a thrill of excitement run through him at the sight of you.

he sank his cock into you as he kept you in the mating press and you felt excitement run through you. your brain went numb for a moment as you felt the pleasure course through your body. it was hot, painfully hot. franco did things to you that you never thought anyone else could do. he drove you mad and made you hot all over.

"franco, fuck." you shifted a little bit. it was a bit of a painful position, your knees were to your chin as he fucked into you without much softness. he felt the zap of possessiveness through him.

he wasn't going to lat his beloved girlfriend dress like that for halloween. unless it was in the bedroom where no prying eyes could see. you could still dress nice for halloween, but you didn't need to show off almost every inch of skin.

"see, if you wanted to excite me. then you didn't have to buy a costume. i think the best thing you can wear for me is nothing. maybe my number on your back, but other than that. i want you in nothing. i want all your clothes on the floor while i fuck you. you're mine, amor. all mine."

his words excited you, you knew that he turned you on greatly. and you did the same for him. even if you didn't know, the statement was made clear by how hard he fucked you.

in the lavish hotel room in austin, the high of a decent weekend followed by a party that you were now late for. he continued to thrust against you, he could feel his pounding heartbeat in your ears as he made a pretty mess of you sweet pussy. you wouldn't second guess how he felt about you by how he made you feel.

your larger boyfriend with his heavy cock made you feel like you were on cloud nine. for a brief moment you thought about not going to the party. you could stay in the hotel room and see how many times you could do it before you were simply too exhausted.

he held onto your hips as he continued to fuck you. the pace was feverish. he groaned, "you look perfect. better than in that costume." he pressed further into you and you felt excitement race through you. you felt hot all over and as did he.

franco excited you in sexual ways that you never thought were possible. he was the kind of lover that brought out parts of you never thought were possible. before you met, you never thought about filming yourself pleasuring yourself. but with the distance between you two for so long, he eventually had a vast collection of photos and videos.

everything from you pleasuring yourself with a toy, to showing off your nude body to him for the camera. and of course, softer, more tender moments. like you in his clothes and wearing the bracelet he gifted you when he signed to formula one.

currently that bracelet looked nice on your wrist while you held onto the white covers under you. franco groaned as he continued to fuck you with heavy thrusts. he felt just as excited as you did. he knew he wasn't going to last long.

"shit. franco." you groaned as you squirmed a little bit which only prompted franco to press further into you. have you in a proper press as his cock moved in and out of you with a feverish pace.

you were the first to cum, you clawed at the sheets. no proper words left you lips, but you did made a sweet moaning noise that sent shocks through franco as he continued to batter your sweet cunt. it was all so hot and it made the driver only fuck you harder. he didn't last long much after, he made sure every inch was inside of you as he finished inside of you with a heated groan.

his pace stopped and the you two looked at one another. franco dropped your hips and pulled one another into a heated kiss. hands traveled across each other's heated bodies.

"you're so fucking hot." he groaned.

when he laid out next to you, he draped an arm across your chest and leaned in to kiss and suck at the nape of your neck. you knew he was decorating you with his marks. and that were was no concealer in the world that would cover the dark marks on your skin.

you both attended the party. you went last minute as a williams racing fan. which wasn't hard, you just raided franco's closet. the shirt was baggier on you and the sleeve of the t-shirt went to your elbows. the best detail of your costume was the massive hickey he left on you.

he simply said about the matter, "ah well, you'll just be a fan who got lucky tonight." <3

#bunny writes #halloween bakery #reader insert #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto smut #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #fc43 smut #fc43 x reader #fc43 imagine #fc43 #fc43 x you #halloween fic

580 notes · View notes

onelittlespiral · 7 months ago

Note

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

#musk #straight to gay #jockification #frat bro #jock tf #dumber tf #frat tf #male transformation #reality change #fml

773 notes · View notes

clrasecretdiary · 3 months ago

Text

Would that I | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

In which Spencer reid will lose all his iq when he sees a pretty women.

Warnings: None! Just silly fluff

a/n: I really liked this one. Love to think about spencer being extremely obvious when he has a crush. Also, there might be some spelling errors bc i’m writing in a really old computer, sorry!! Promise to revise it as soon as i get my normal one back.

It was a wednesday. Today, all you guys had to do was paperwork, so you and the team planned to go to a bar after the shift, so you figured you’d go a bit more dressed up. You decide to put on a long black dress that you had recently bought. It was not scandalous, just a bit more form fitting then what you’d usually go for a day of work.

You ended up arriving a little late, and everyone was at the briefing room having a reunion. You entered just as Spencer was explaining some detail about the case you guys had just closed and needed to organize the paperwork for. Everyone turned at the sound of the door opening.

“ Hey guys, sorry for being late. The traffic was horrible today” You say, a little shy at everyone’s attention being at you.

“ Don’t worry, Reid was just telling us some details for the reports” Hotch says, and you turn to give a little smile to spencer, to which he replies with a small wave and you think you notice him blushing a little, but you figure it’s probably the summer weather.

“Where are you going all dressed up princess?” Morgan asks, in his usual flirty tone

“Oh, i just wanted to change up a bit since we’re going out tonight!” You say, blushing a bit at the fact they noticed it

“You look beautiful, honey!” Garcia says, smiling at you

“Thanks pen, im happy you liked it”

“Oh someone definitely liked it” Emily says, looking at spencer, which previously was staring at you like you were water in the desert and now is clearly and undeably blushing.

“ Stop it, i did not- I mean I like it just not especially .. i mean, you look great!! Like always!!” Spencer says, extremely embarrassed and also scared to hurt your feelings

“ Thanks spence” You say, laughing at the situation and how worried he was

“Hey spence, what are the 6 first Pi numbers” Emily asks, with a grin on her face

Still flustered spencer answers “Its 3, 14189”

“It’s actually 3, 14159 spence” Emily says, now laughing

“Ohh so it is true that spencer reid will lose his genius iq at the sight of a pretty women” Derek replies, laughing at the situation

"What?! I’m not. Thats nonsense, Let’s just move on guys” Spencer replies, his face more red now if that is even possible.

You guys laugh for a bit and then get back to the topic of the meeting, you just think of it as the team picking on Spencer as they usually do until you overhear emily whispering to garcia.

“They’re so oblivious, i wish we could tell them about how they feel about each other”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #early seasons reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x bestfriend!reader

478 notes · View notes

bunniehrtz · 8 months ago

Note

abby request where she eats you out whilst you’re playing minecraft n if you stop playing, she stops her mouth <333

love this request so much. i changed it up a little i hope that’s okay 🥹

cw: cunnilingus, tiny mommy kink (abby calls herself mommy once), they’re silly and in love and reader just loves the gamer life. sweetie pies

your grip on the controller in your hands tightens as you look down at your girlfriend between your legs. “whatcha doin’, abs?” you ask, confused. “nothin, baby. keep playing,” abby replies nonchalantly. she pulls down your pyjama trousers, taking them off completely. you look down at her, your eyebrows furrowed. “abs, what’re you doing?” you whine, still confused, but enjoying it nonetheless. the baby hairs that have escaped her braid frame her face perfectly, and she looks beautiful. you place the controller on your stomach, holding abby’s cheek. she looks up at you through her long eyelashes. shaking her head, she then looks back at your controller. “pick that back up. pay no attention to me, okay, baby? don’t stop playing,” she whispers seriously, forcing you into eye contact before ducking down, licking a stripe up your pussy through your panties. your eyes snap shut, your hands immediately going to abby’s shoulders. she shakes her head once more. “no, baby. don’t touch. play your game,” you whine, picking your controller back up in defeat.

abby continues to tease your pussy lightly, noticing when you’d close your eyes or bite your lip. she’d pinch your thigh, reminding you to pay no notice to her. it was killing you, but you don’t want her to stop. “abby. more, please?” you whisper, gasping when she pulls away. your pout almost makes her rethink what she’s doing. she’s stronger than that. “what did i say? what did i tell you to do, baby? don’t pay attention. i won’t tell you again. got it?” she’s so serious. you giggle, your bottom lip between your teeth as you focus your eyes back into your screen. trying to focus on taming your 5th cat for your pretty house you’ve just finished building. every coherent thought is immediately taken out of you as abby wraps her lips around your clit, your panties now soaked through. you bite back a moan, not wanting her to stop.

abby pulls away, leaving you feeling empty. you frown, not daring to look away from the screen. the cold air hitting your soaked pussy made you hiss, opening your legs up a little bit more. abby growls under her breath, your eyes already meeting her green ones. “come on, baby. gotta be good for me. be good for mommy, i’ll make you cum, okay?” you nod to everything that leaves her pretty mouth, you’d agree to anything she says. you’d do anything for her. you let out a shaky breath, relaxing your back against your soft mattress. your breaths are heavy and your stomach feels tight as abby’s lips finally touch your cunt. the feeling of her tongue inside you becomes too much for her, and she moans inside you. the vibrations of her moan forces the controller out of your hands. abby shrugs it off, not caring anymore. she takes your hands, bringing them onto her neck and shoulders, your hips already grinding against her face. the air is thick and she needs you as much as you need her.

“look at me, baby. don’t stop looking at me. take your eyes off me, and i’ll fuckin’ stop, okay?” abby pants, you hum in agreement. your hums turn to whimpers, your whimpers turn to moans and your moans turn to screams, definitely alerting your neighbours. you feel abby smile against you, only encouraging you more. abby knows you’re close, she knows your body better than you do. she reaches for your hands, holding them in hers as she feels you let go. the band in your stomach snaps and you see white.

your eyes are shut so tight, a ringing in your ears. you feel a light stroke on your shaking thighs. your eyes open back up slowly, looking down at abby’s glistening lips and chin. “did so good for me, baby. come here,” she beckons you over, your lips reaching hers as she pulls you into an intimate, sloppy kiss. you whine, flinching slightly as abby accidentally grazes your cunt. “‘m sorry, baby. stay there, i’ll get a towel to clean up,” she says, laying you down comfortably.

minutes pass and you look up at your screen, abby back between your legs. you hiss at the warm towel against you, abby’s kisses shortly following. the red screen of your tv makes you gasp, immediately grabbing abby’s attention.

“what? did i hurt you? what’s happened?” she panics, and you pout down at her again. “you made me die, abs.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #mol’s writing #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us abby #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader smut #the last of us smut #tlou smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfictions

741 notes · View notes

pretty-circa006 · 4 months ago

Text

Livestream

Sugar Daddy! Coach! Negan x Cam girl! F! Reader

summary Negan stays true to his promise tags smut, unprotected p in v, multiple cream pies, breeding kink i guess, vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, pet-names, dirty talk, age gap

wc 2.9k words

previous parts: 1 , 2

note here's the final part, finally! i am so so so so so sorry i took forever uploading this. i was having the worst writers block, but i think im finally over it! i hope this was worth the wait P.S. im so sorry if i missed any mistakes while proofreading, it's 3am and im sleepy as fuck

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

“You look so sexy in this, baby,” Negan whispers in her ear as they stand in front of her full length mirror. When Negan arrived to her apartment earlier, he brought her some gifts—a bouquet of flowers and new lingerie.

“Really? I never thought I looked good in pink,” she replies. Negan’s hands slide down her body and grasp her hips, pulling her closer into him. He leans down and kisses along her jaw to her neck until she giggles at the feeling of his facial hair tickling her soft skin

“You look fuckin’ perfect in anything.” He pulls her in for a lingering kiss before sitting down on her bed. She stays in front of the mirror, admiring herself in the lingerie. It’s a pink flyaway babydoll that’s frilly on the ends and completely see-through, finished with a little bow at the center of the bra part.

“Ready to do this livestream?” he asks, looking up at her from beneath his long, dark lashes. She makes her way over to him and climbs into his lap, straddling him. His hands slide up her back before pulling her down to meet his lips by the back of her neck. She wraps her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as she grinds herself against the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You trying to make me cum before we even get started?” he asks with a raised brow after pulling away from her lips. She smiles before sneaking one more quick kiss. He misses the warmth of her body on his when she gets up to set her phone up on the little tripod she bought with some of the money he gave her.

“Ready?” she asks as she adjusts it.

He nods his head as he unbuckles his belt. “C’mere, babydoll.” She begins the stream and rushes over to him. His eyes are full of lust as he looks up at her, admiring her body.

“On your knees,” he commands gently. With her back still facing the camera, she lowers herself to her knees, coming face to face his bulge. She undoes his jeans and he lifts his hips so she can pull them down along with his boxer briefs. His large, hardened cock springs free, slapping against his abdomen.

“I’ve been waiting so long to feel it in person,” she comments before placing a gentle kiss to the tip. He caresses the side of her face before smacking his cock against her lips, spreading his precum on them like lipgloss. She licks her lips before taking his tip into her mouth. He breathes in sharply, feeling her soft hands stroking what isn’t in her mouth. She swirls her tongue around him before taking more of his shaft into her mouth, feeling each vein sliding across her tongue.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he praises. She hollows her cheeks as she bobs her head up and down the length of him, gripping either of his thighs for support.

“Holy fuck, I thought you were a virgin.”

With innocent eyes, she looks up at him before taking the entirety of him down her throat. She gags, but only once and it feels so good around him. He leans back, supporting himself on his hands as he lets her suck him off. Profanities spill from his mouth and his breathing grows quick and shallow. He can’t hold himself back anymore and grabs the hair at the back of her head. Negan holds on to her hair tightly as his hips lift with every thrust he fucks into her face.

“Fuck, baby, fuck. I’m gonna fuckin’ come down your throat.” She doesn’t need his words to know that he’s close. She can feel his cock twitch inside her mouth and his grip tighten in her hair.

“Ah fuck,” he swears before emptying his load down her throat. He pulls out of her mouth with a pop. She looks up at him, admiring his flushed face and lustful eyes. His hand grips her jaw, forcing her mouth open.

“Swallowed that shit like a goddamn pro,” he admires. She smiles and stands up on her knees, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. Pulling him close, she connects their lips. Negan pulls her into his lap without breaking the kiss. As their tongues mingle in each other's mouths, Negan can taste himself. He removes himself from her lips and kisses a trail down her throat until he reaches her sternum. Negan slides the thin straps of her lingerie down her arms and pulls it down, freeing her breasts and bunching it at her waist. He takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened nipple while teasing the other with his free hand. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she tosses her head back, moaning in pleasure. Slowly, she grinds her hips against him, feeling every detail of his dick through her thin panties. Without warning, he turns her around so her back is against his chest. Her core aches so bad with the desperation to be filled that she doesn't even care if her face is in the camera or not. She leans her head back over his shoulder and presses delicate kisses against his jaw. His large hands slides down her body, stopping at the waistband of her panties, but instead of pulling them down like a normal person, he rips the sheer fabric in half, tearing them off her body.

"Those were new!" she complains.

"Shhh, I'll buy you something even better," he whispers in her ear before playfully nipping at the lobe.

With one arm, he lifts her legs by the backs of her knees, pressing them against her chest and putting her bare pussy on full display. His free hand comes down to rub tight, fast circles against her clit. She gasps and arches her back, her eyes screwing shut from the pleasure. His fingers slide down her folds, coating them in her arousal before bringing his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of her fluids.

"Been waitin' so long to taste you baby. Fuckin' delicious!" he praises. Her only response comes out in the form of a breathy moan. Two of his thick fingers enter her pussy and the way he could feel it stretching to accommodate him brought a smirk to his face.

"Baby, you're so goddamn tight," he whispers before pressing his lips to her neck, sucking a mark onto her soft skin. She whimpers when she feels the rough pads of his fingers pressing against her g-spot.

"Ah! Negan!" she yelps, her fingers gripping the comforter of her bed. He slips in a third finger and she tenses, sucking in a sharp, pained breath through her teeth.

"C'mon, princess, I know you can take it," his raspy voice encourages as he distracts her from the pain by playing with her clit with his thumb. His thrusts are slow while he waits for her to grow comfortable with the stretch and once he feels her relax against his body, he knows she's there and quickens his pace. Her breathing becomes shallow as the coil in her stomach comes close to bursting.

"Please, Negan, please! I'm so close."

"What'd I tell you about patience? Hm?"

"Negan!" she protests, tears burning in her eyes as he slows his pace, making her fall from the peak of orgasm she almost reached.

"Not just yet. I wanna feel you coming on my cock."

"I can do both! Just please lemme come now," she begs, tears now cascading down her cheeks.

"Look at you. So desperate for me to fuck this tiny pussy with my fingers." Without warning, he enters another finger, earning a pleasured scream from her. He could feel her legs shaking as he brought her close to her orgasm once again. Her toes flex and curl in the air as her orgasm tears through her body. Negan continues to fuck her with his fingers until he feels her relax against him.

He gently sets her legs down and holds her in his lap, giving her a minute to catch her breath.

"You did so good for me, baby," he whispers soothingly in her ear. She turns around in his lap and turns to face him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Now will you fuck me?" she asks, batting the lashes of her pleading, doe eyes at him. He cups her cheek in his large hand and wipes at her fallen tears.

"Of course. I can't resist you for another goddamn minute."

With faux innocence, she smiles at him before grabbing his hand, the one he fingered her with, and begins sucking her juices off his fingers. As she does, she grinds her bare pussy over his once again hardened cock, feeling every vein drag along her sensitive folds.

"Keep doin' that and I'm gonna fuckin' come again and won't have it in me to stuff that tight pussy of yours."

She pouts reaches for the bottom of his black t-shirt instead. He lifts his arms and allows her to pull it over his head. She runs her hands up his strong chest before pressing kisses on it, occasionally leaving marks across his body. His hands caress her soft body before gently maneuvering her off his lap and onto the bed. She watches him expectantly as he stands and rids himself of the rest of his clothing. The look of lustful admiration in her eyes is flattering to Negan, but he can also see a slight fear in them. He caresses the side of her face with his hands and gently tilts her head to look up at him.

"It's okay, baby, I'll be gentle," he reassures. She lays back against her pillows as he crawls over her, trapping her between his arms. He leans down and meets her lips in a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck as she slides her tongue in his mouth. A gasp escapes her lips when she feels his tip sliding across her folds. Negan can tell she's nervous, so he continues kissing her as a distraction from the impending intrusion. He lines himself up with her entrance and she tenses at the slight stretch of his tip.

"You took four fingers just fine, but you're still nervous?" She rolls her eyes earning a chuckle from him.

"I'm jus' teasin' ya, baby, relax." He kisses her collar bone before kissing down to her breasts, taking one in his mouth to further distract her. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she moans at the sensation of his tongue flicking at her nipple. Her moans intensify as he slides himself in as slowly as he can. His four fingers have nothing on his dick, but they did help prep her for its largeness because it doesn't hurt as much as she anticipated.

He pulls away from her nipple and begins slowly thrusting in and out of her. Her warm, wet cunt squeezes him so tight that he can hardly resist fucking into her like a madman, but he wants her to enjoy her first time just as much as he's enjoying it. Her smooth legs wrap around his hips, as if she were silently begging for more. His larger hands grasped her smaller ones, intertwining his fingers with hers as he fucked her harder. Negan’s long lashes kiss his cheeks as his eyes fluter shut, the pleasure overtaking him. His face is flushed and breathing shallow and god, he looks so beautiful.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight.”

“M gonna come,” she wines, her hands squeezing his, similar to the way her cunt is squeezing his cock.

Negan is about to pull out, but her legs around his waist keep him from doing so.

“Come inside me.”

He seems hesitant for a moment, but that quickly goes away when he bottoms out inside of her, filling her with his cum as she screams his name, her own orgasm bringing her to pleasure’s peak. She thought this was it, they both made each other come and now she’d just lay in his arms, but Negan flipping her over and positioning her on all fours tells her that she was mistaken. He spreads apart her asscheeks, watching the way his cum oozes out of her fucked out cunt. He steps away for a second and she watches him in confusion.

“Watcha doin’?”

But she doesn’t need a response because her question is answered when he comes back with the phone camera in hand, pointed at his hardening dick. She feels the mattress dip behind her when he gets back on the bed. She shudders at the feeling of his thick fingers spreading open her sensitive folds, mixed with the feeling of his hot cum dripping from her cunt down her inner thigh.

“Look at this fuckin’ cream pie. None of you sorry sacks of shit could fill this pussy like I do,” he boasts to the viewers as he films her up close.

“Mmmm Negan, I need you,” she whines.

“How could I say no to this perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

He kneads the soft flesh of her ass with the hand that isn’t holding the camera before bringing his hand to his cock, lining it up with her entrance once again. He thrusts all the way in this time, not needing her to adjust to his size. His cock gets her in all the right spots. She can feel every detail of it gliding against her velvety walls as he fucks her. This time he's really fucking her. He was sweet and gentle when taking her virginity the first time around, almost as if they were making love, almost. But he can't hold himself back from the primitive desire to pound into her until her legs are shaking and the only thoughts she can conjure are of him. His free hand holds her hip in a bruising grip as he records his dick coming in and out of her cunt. Her arms shake with the struggle of holding herself up before she finally gives out, falling face first into the mattress.

"Negan 'mgonnacome," she whines, the sound muffled by her face being in the mattress.

“Just hang on, baby,” he grunts.

“Ah! Negan,” she moans, her hands fisting her sheets as her legs shake. Had Negan not been holding on to her, she’d have collapsed ages ago. The springs of her mattress squeak in unison with his hips smacking against her ass.

“Oh, baby, you’ve ruined any other pussy for me,” he says between pants. Once again, she feels that familiar feeling she’s growing to love of Negan coming inside of her. Her legs give out and she collapses onto her mattress as she comes in unison with Negan. Behind her, Negan lays down on her bed, catching his breath as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He stares up at the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut with the feeling of sleep entering his body. His eyes lazily flutter back open at the feeling of him being watched and he comes face to face her, looking down at him with lust filled eyes.

“I wanna go again.”

Negan runs a hand over his face, half sighing half laughing.

“Again? We already went two times.” She runs a hand along his chest, combing her finger through his chest hair.

“Please?” Her hand slides up his throat before caressing his cheek, moving her thumb across his cheekbone. He relaxes into her touch, looking up at her softly with his hazel eyes. She leans down and gently pecks him on the lips.

“You know I can’t say no to you.” She kisses him again, deeper this time, earning a grunt from the man beneath her. He can feel her smiling though the kiss.

“But I don’t think I have another round in me.”

“It’s okay,” she straddles his lap, “I’ll do all the work,” she mumbles sleepily.

She takes his semi-hard length in her hand and lines it up with her entrance before easily sinking down on it. He slides in effortlessly and she feels so good around him. He lets out a sigh of relaxation and his eyes roll back. Using her knees, she slowly lifts herself up off him, so slowly he feels like she’s taunting him. She sinks back down onto him and he hits her g-spot just right.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He watches her as she rides him, staring at her tits as they bounce in unison with her. His eyes are so full of lust and admiration that he can’t help the sexy dimpled smirk that spreads across his face. Her cunt squeezes around him and he sucks a breath in through his teeth.

“You gonna come again, aren't you babygirl,” he asks, feeling his own orgasm approaching once again. She nods her head, barely able to keep her tired eyes open, as she increases her pace, moaning his name along with other unintelligible ramblings. They come together one last time before she collapses against his chest. He reaches over for her phone and ends the livestream before tossing it aside.

“You did so good for me, babydoll,” he whispers soothingly as he rubs his hand up and down her bare back. Her heavy breathing and lack of response tell him that she’s already fallen asleep. He presses a kiss to the top of her head before shutting his own eyes.

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan smith #fanfic #jdm #negan #negan smith x reader #twd fanfiction #twd negan #negan x reader smut #coach negan

541 notes · View notes

daddy-dotcom · 11 months ago

Text

Bet on Me

Spencer Reid x Sugarbaby Reader

Spencer Reid never loses, especially when the prize is you.

Summary: Reader is a sugar baby for Reid's opponent, and he bets a night with her if he loses to Reid.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v, bj, swearing ig?

----------------------------------------------

This wasn't the first time he'd done this. Granted, the Boss only did it when he was losing a lot of money and needed to sacrifice his "lucky charm." However, this was the first time he bet me and lost, to a man half his age nonetheless. I never liked being used as a gambling chip, but he lost so rarely that I didn't dwell on it too much. The man he was playing only gave us his first name, Spencer, and damn was he good. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was counting the cards. He was slightly cocky, but not in the way that the Boss's usual opponents were. He knew he was good, but he wasn't arrogant. There was an air of confidence to him, almost as if he was guaranteed to win, which was exactly what he did. I'd never seen the Boss this upset before, practically throwing a tantrum on the casino floor. But Spencer won fair and square, more specifically, he had won me.

Under normal circumstances, he would have bet on me as a last resort against some other equally sleazy old man. He would have won and I wouldn't have to worry about the idea of sleeping with a man who I didn't know and who had zero respect for boundaries. While the Boss wasn't exactly in his prime anymore, at least he paid me well and we had strict boundaries in place. But whenever he bet on me, I had no idea what I would be getting into. Something about Spencer being young immediately eased my nerves, especially since he was so lanky and boyish. He was probably close to my age, but you would never be able to tell because he looked like he was barely old enough to be gambling.

"Just go on and get it over with, doll, I'll pick you up in the morning," the Boss said irritably.

I made my way over to Spencer, who was the only one left sitting at the poker table. He sat quite awkwardly for a man who had just swept the entire table. All of the confidence from before had completely melted away.

"Well it looks like I'm yours for the night, Spencer. I'm (Y/N) by the way."

I leaned against the poker table, making sure to show off my best assets. If I was going to have to spend the night with him, I at least wanted to have some fun. Between my day job and being a part-time sugar baby, I didn't have the time or energy to date much. So I planned on taking full advantage of the situation. Even if I didn't end up sleeping with Spencer, there was something about him that made me want to get to know him.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)" he said, and I could tell he was avoiding my gaze. This was most likely because from where he was sitting, his line of sight was directly at my boobs.

"C'mon Spencer, let me buy you a drink."

"Shouldn't I be the one buying you a drink?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Looks like you need it more than I do, pretty boy." I said with a smile as I pulled him by the hand towards the bar.

------------

"I'm not a hooker by the way. Just putting that out there . . ." I said, suddenly matching Spencer's awkwardness.

"I figured as much," he replied before taking a sip of his drink. "You're very well dressed and your jewelry is definitely real. Which could mean you're a high-end prostitute, which isn't uncommon for Vegas, but your relationship is too close for him to just be a repeat customer. So I assumed you were either a sugar baby or a trophy wife."

"Wow. You got all that just by watching us?"

"It's kind of my job."

"You a PI or something? What kind of job allows you to pick up on all that Mr...?"

"Reid. And it's Dr. Reid actually. I work in the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI."

"No kidding! You? The lanky yet mysterious card counter who hasn't looked me in the eye this entire conversation, works for the FBI?"

“Yes and for the record, I wasn’t counting the cards. . .at least not this time,” he said with the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Feeling a little tipsy, I replied by saying "you know, around here that acronym FBI usually stands for Female-"

"Body Inspector, yes I'm familiar with the joke. I grew up getting my head dunked in the toilet by bullies wearing those cheap souvenir shirts from Circus Circus"

"Ah so you're a local too?"

“Yes ma’m, Las Vegas born and raised,” he said before taking another sip of his drink. I took the opportunity to ask him another question.

“So do you have me figured out yet, pretty boy?”

“Well I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he said while finally looking me right in the eyes, “so that leads me to the conclusion that you are a sugar baby.”

I could tell the effects of the alcohol were starting to creep to the surface because he wouldn’t break eye contact with me and his body began leaning towards me when he spoke instead of away. He was less guarded and almost flirtatious, in his own adorable way.

“Ding ding ding, you got me Dr. Reid. I, uh, work as a lab assistant during the day but being his sugar baby is helping with the crushing weight of my student debt.”

“I’m sorry that you have to spend your evenings with that jerk, (Y/N). That was mostly my motivation for accepting his offer to bet on you. I hope you know I wasn’t planning on taking advantage of you or anything, I just wanted to give you a night off from your boss.”

My gaze softened and I tried to push away the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of my eyes.

“That was the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time, Spencer. Thank you,” I said, gently placing a hand on his thigh.

I saw a wave of crimson begin to appear on his cheeks and he flashed me a smile before saying, “It was my pleasure. I don’t mean to brag but I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, all of this to say I’m pretty good at cards.”

“Wow! Handsome and smart? Guess you’re not the only one who hit the jackpot tonight,” I said while raising my eyebrows, “but I don’t see a ring on your finger either, Dr. Reid. You’re alone at a bar in Vegas with a pretty girl, so I’m assuming you don’t have anyone waiting for you back home?” I asked, suddenly very interested to know if this smart and adorably sweet man was single.

“So you’ve been profiling me too,” he said with a chuckle, “to answer your question, no I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend or anything like that,” he said, almost enthusiastically. Taking that as a sign, I quickly asked,

“Would you want to come upstairs with me? I just feel so comfortable talking to you and technically you still have the rest of the night with me,” I said with pleading eyes.

“Um . . .sure!” he said with both hesitation and excitement, which I’m assuming is because his desire is going against his better judgment as an FBI agent.

“You agreed to that awfully fast for someone who works for the FBI.”

“I’m not worried. I’ve been watching my drink the entire night, and I’ve been profiling you, remember?”

At this point, we were both beaming at each other like a couple of idiots; I had to stop myself from yanking this man’s arm making a run for the elevator.

———

"It's nice to be with a guy who doesn't have an AARP card for once."

"Actually, it’s a common misconception that the service is limited to people 50 and over. You can apply for a membership once you turn 18," he rambled, causing me to giggle.

"You're cute," I replied, placing a hand on the inner part of his thigh. We stayed there for a moment, our eyes fixed on one another with a blush creeping up on Spencer's cheeks. I could see his Adam's apple bob as he gulped, and I could almost swear the crotch of his pants looked tighter than before.

"W-we don't have to do anything you know," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"I know. . . " I said as I leaned in close, "but what if I want to?"

I took a chance and pressed my lips to his. I let them linger there to gauge his reaction before going any further, not wanting to scare the poor man away. After a few seconds, he didn't pull away and I took the quickened pace of his breathing as a sign to kiss him more. I began slowly at first and his lips followed my lead. To my surprise, he brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in my hair and I moaned into his mouth at the contact. Our kisses quickly became hungry and passionate, and there was no denying the now obvious bulge in his pants. I moved my hand from his thigh and began rubbing him over his pants. This time, he was the one who let out a groan, the sound of which motivated me to force my tongue into his mouth. He tightened his grip on my hair, but I pulled away to tend to his growing erection. He remained seated on the edge of the bed as I dropped to my knees in front of him.

"Y-you don't have to-" he stuttered with wide eyes.

"Spencer, it's okay, I want to."

He didn't protest further and I began to unbuckle his belt. I unzipped his pants and pulled down his underwear just enough to let his cock free. I wrapped my hand around the base and began to jerk him, causing him to hiss at the contact. I teased him a little by licking the tip of his dick before I placed his entire length, or as much of him as I could fit, in my mouth.

"Oh my god” he groaned, with his eyes screwed shut. I continued to bob my head up and down his cock, his hand finding that familiar place in my hair where he began to tug again. My. pace was purposefully slow, dragging out each suck to earn a moan from Spencer. It was thrilling to be in control of the situation for once. As I sped up my motions, his hands were practically ripping the strands from my head. The wetness pooling between my legs was becoming too much to ignore, so I released my grip on Spencer's cock and used his thighs to push myself back up from my spot on the floor.

"Spencer. . ." I whined, planting myself onto his lap, "I need you."

I took his hand and guided him to the heat between my legs. I shimmied up my dress to allow him to feel the wetness that now soaked my panties. We both let out a gasp as his fingers became slick at the touch.

"It's been a while since anyone's made me feel like this," I admitted. I felt safe in his presence, especially since judging by his reactions, he doesn't do this very often either.

“I-I don’t have a-,"

“Don’t worry, I’m 90% sure we’re both clean and I’m on the pill. Trust me I’m not trying to scam you for child support or anything.”

I could feel his body relax underneath me after reassuring him. I pressed my lips to his once again, our kiss more sensual and intimate than before. Seizing the rare opportunity to be on top, I had one hand on his shoulder for support and the other on his dick to line him up with my entrance. It was almost dizzying how good it felt as I finally sank down onto his length.

“Oh god, Spencer.”

I buried my face into the crook of his neck, completely overwhelmed by the few of him stretching me out. Once I was comfortable, I slowly began rocking my hips. We were a mess of breathy moans and strings of profanities escaped my lips as I began bouncing on his cock.

“Fuck Spence, you you’re so big.”

It’s always the skinny, shy guys.

“(Y/N) you feel so good,” he grunted as he bucked his hips up in an attempt to fuck me even harder. After observing his reactions to my every move so far, I knew he wasn’t going to last long. But he was fucking me so good that I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Yes baby keep fucking me like that.”

His hips continued with their relentless pace and our bodies slammed against each other again and again. It wasn’t much longer until his thrusts became sloppy and he finished inside of me with one last resounding groan. We stayed that way for a while, just grateful for the intimate connection. Once we finally caught our breath, I spoke up.

“Well you still have a few hours with me Dr. Reid, what do you propose we do?” I said with a smirk.

“We should probably go to bed, I have to catch my flight back to D.C. in the morning. . . but maybe after we do that again.”

“I’m all yours Spencer.”

————————————————————————

Not 100% confident about this one but lmk what y'all think :) thanks fro all the love so far besties

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #mgg #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler

1K notes · View notes

k-hotchoisan · 8 months ago

Text

body language

well, pining after your brother’s fucking attractive best friend isn’t a sin if he doesn’t know right? nobody has to know.

nobody has to know that you're lodged in his fantasies when the nights deepen.

nobody has to know what happens when you're forced to share a room with Yunho.

Genre/Warnings: smut, big dick! X Perverted! Yunho, unprotected sex, low key corruption kink, mutual pining, cream pies, fingering, orgasms, overstimulation, oh no they are forced to share a room!, sexual tension, dirty talk

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷 back to staying perverted

A/N: send me to jail for being so inactive TT I know life happens and I shouldn't apologise for going mia for a bit but I still feel so bad! Nonetheless, please continue giving my works as much love as you all always do, and that ya'll are my source of motivation. Thank you for waiting ❤️

Undoubtedly, it’s either your brother has good taste in making friends, or you just have interesting taste in men, because out of all men you had a crush on, it had to be the one closest to your brother—Jeong Yunho. Something about him made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Maybe it was the way he would lean in towards you when he wanted to whisper something in your ear, keeping your brother an arm’s length while his voice tickled perfectly as it reverberates in your brain. Maybe it was the way he would hold your stare for a couple of seconds before his pretty smiles spreads across his lips, as if he was keeping a secret that he wants to tell you. Maybe it was the way he would bump his arm against yours when he wants to ally with you to piss your brother off.

Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that the feelings you had for him were growing exponentially. How you managed to keep said feelings in bay was a mystery. You could attribute it to knowing Yunho for as long as you did. Maybe he treated everyone nice and politely like that. It was hard not to keep your hopes up sometimes and it really made you frustrated.

“A chalet?” You repeat. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just a weekend out”, your brother replies. “A couple of friends will be coming. You know them, including Yunho.”

“Are you going?” Yunho suddenly asks.

You break eye contact with Yunho, going back to your phone. “No. I’m going on a date.”

Yunho’s eyes widen. There is a flash of panic that flickers in his eyes. His words spill out of him before he realises it.

“With who? How come I didn’t know?”

You cast a confused glance at him. “Why would you need to know?”

That was when Yunho realises, and he simmers down, going back to hiding behind his phone screen. He bites his tongue, hoping you nor your brother ha caught on. But thankfully, no one else questions him. In fact, your brother doubles down.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me?” Your brother echos.

“As if you’re interested in my love life”, you playfully retort, rolling your eyes before you disappear into your room, before Yunho starts to hear your heartbeat right in your ears again.

Yunho stares blankly at his phone, still processing that you’ll be going on a date. Something sits uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He’s running his brain, thinking of a million ways to make you cancel the date, half of it under the pretence of your brother. How could he do it without making it obvious?

“And why would I cancel my date, Jeong Yunho?” You ask, your arms crossed. For some reason, your brother and Yunho were suddenly way too interested in your date. Especially Yunho. He would not get off your back about it.

“It’s dangerous? Who knows he might be a serial killer!” He was really dramatic about too, might you add.

You scoff, and an amused smile tugs the corner of your lips, as your hand reaches out to pat his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Yun. You’re on my speed dial if anything happens okay?”

For a moment, you feel his gaze piercing right into you, as if time didn’t exist—the both of you caught in between each other’s gazes, Yunho looking like he wants to say something, but he stops himself. You quickly break the eye contact, remembering that he’s your brother’s best friend, and that Yunho is just being as worried as your brother. Nothing more than that. Yunho wants to hold the gaze longer. He almost wants to break the imaginary boundaries then both of you set, but he snaps into to reality when he watches you leave, his voice trapped in his throat.

Fuck. Looks like he’s the one losing now.

It doesn’t help that during that night, you slip into his dreams, and instead of you leaving, he has your face in his hands, and your lips are on his. He feels you in your entirety, and you feel so fucking good pressed against him. Yunho wants so badly to mark every part of you, to remind you he could do so much better than whoever you’re supposedly going out with. He could kiss you better, fuck you better. Then it switches—to you in front of him, your ass bouncing off his cock, loud smacks echoing from the walls as he sinks into your pussy with a broken sigh.

That’s when he fucking jolts awake, warm fluids streaming down his thighs, as he swallows an imaginary mass in his throat because what the fuck just happened? He stares blankly at the white ceiling of his room, mind as blank.

How fucked is he?

Yunho reaches to the doorstep of the chalet, almost close to midnight. Dance practice had bleed past the time, later than he thought. He greets his friends at the barbecue pit, still grilling chicken and seafood, stealing a stick and getting playfully hit before he enters the chalet itself.

Your brother sat there, comfortable with his girlfriend’s legs crossed over his lap as they had joycons in their hands, playing some kind of co-op game together. His friend turns to him, before his eye dart back to the screen once he acknowledges Yunho, much too engrossed with the level he and his girlfriend was at.

“Your room’s to the left of the stairs. I hung your lanyard there”, your brother says, before his attention goes right back to the game. For a spilt second, he suddenly remembers that he wanted to tell Yunho something, something important, but when his girlfriend squeals at clearing the level, the thought is completely erased from his memory.

Yunho climbs up the stairs, pushes the door open, and completely stops in his tracks as his gaze locks with yours. You’re seated on the bed, relaxed and on your phone until the door suddenly pushes open, and Yunho stands there, looking as bewildered as you.

There is a long moment of silence between the both of you.

“Can I help you, Yunho?” You break it.

“No…isn’t this my room?” Yunho clarifies. You glance around and shrug.

Yunho drops his bag, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

His eyebrows furrow, confusion sprawled across his face.

“Hold on. Weren’t you suppose to be on a date?”

You shrug again. “Yeah. It ended early. I thought of finding my brother and he asked me to use this room since it was vacant. I supposed he forgot to tell you? I could leave if-“

“N-no. You can stay, since you’re already here”, Yunho cuts you off. No fucking way is he wasting this chance. Somehow the thought of you within the same, close proximity is making his head dizzy. “You’re okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep downstairs.”

Your face starts to heat up. As much as it was the elephant in the room, for Yunho to bring up so straightforwardly like that was making your mind wander a little too close to the sun.

You force a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Well, not a lie, the only thing was that the both of you were blacked out drunk when it happened that one time.

Yunho’s signature smile appears. He looks comforted, at least. “Right. Then I’ll use the bathroom to wash up.” He grabs a spare towel on the rack, then walks back to dig for his clothes in his duffle before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you with your messy thoughts. Your hand is over your heart, and you feel it beating a little too wildly.

Nothing’s gonna happen. Two people of the opposite sex can share a bed just fine, is what you tell yourself. Yeah, that would have been the case, if the opposite gender wasn’t Jeon Yunho.

Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years in all honesty. The anxiety wouldn’t simmer down, so you end up burying yourself underneath the cold sheets, hoping that you’d end up falling asleep.

And by some miracle, you did. That is, until you feel the mattress weigh down, and shuffling on the sheets, then something bumping against your leg. You stir slightly from the disruption.

“Sorry. The bed’s a little…cramped”, you hear Yunho’s voice tickling your ears as his legs press against yours.

You stay silent, the only things that you hear are the whirling of the air conditioning and the sound of your heart about to fucking burst from your rib cage.

“It’s fine”, you finally reply, your body completely still, unsure how actually close the male is against you, only his legs pressed up against the back of your knees and his arms are barely touching your back as a gauge. Well, you weren’t in the mood to find out. The myriad amount of assurances you repeat to yourself that he’s just a friend, that he’s just Jeon Yunho, does nothing to comfort you to say the least.

You hear his voice ring a little to close to your ears again. “How was your date?”

You don’t want to answer, your eyes are focused onto the darkness of the door in front of you. You fear that he might hear your thoughts if you speak, even though that’s literally impossible.

“It was fine”, you curtly reply, squeezing the spare pillow in your arms.

“What did you think of him?”

“I think he’s okay. He’s quite a decent guy. Then again, it’s just the first date”.

The mattress shifts suddenly and you freeze when you feel him inch even closer to you. You have no clue what expression he’s making but from the way he suddenly shifts rather dramatically, you would assume that he seemed shocked?

Oh, you were definitely about to find out.

“You’re planning to see him again?” He’s closer now. You feel his chest almost pressing against your spine. You feel his gaze piercing daggers into the back of your head. You feel his agitation. But over what?

“I haven’t decided on that yet”, you reply. But you cut him before he says anything, “but what’s it to you? You usually don’t care about the things I do. Let alone my dates.”

This time, it’s Yunho’s turn to fall silent. The weight of the mattress beneath you shifts once more it stills. For a moment, you assume that he’d shifted away from you, and maybe he’d let the matter die off.

“Who said I didn’t?”

Now he’s completely pressing his body against you—you feel his lips just a hair’s length from the back of your neck, his chest completely flat against your back.

His crotch right against your ass.

“Yunho-“, you try turning to face him before the both of your start making any mistakes, but his hand presses your waist down, halting any movements you were about to make. Heat is flushing your cheeks.

“I’ll stop if you don’t want to, and I’ll turn away, and sleep downstairs. I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

Shit, shit, shit. The more words Yunho speak, the more they aren’t registering in your damn head. His voice is melting in your ears, low and dangerous. The consequences that once rang like alarm bells in your head slowly grow muted, and now it’s just your carnal desire to let Yunho do whatever he wanted to you.

“I’m not doing this without your consent, my dear”, he reminds , and his hand is slowly trailing off your body.

All the repercussions, completely wiped off when your feelings that you once tried to fucking hard to suppress behind to bubble up to the surface, and for Yunho to just summon them so easily when he says it so gently and with such temptation.

But you should still probably stop this-

From the way you’re staying quiet, Yunho is ready to just cut his advances. After all, he’s not interested in making you feel uncomfortable, as much as he wants to just ruin you all for himself. He keeps his breathing light, but his heart is still beating loudly in his chest, bracing himself for the rejection, his hand gradually lifting from your waist, very much reluctantly-

Until he feels your hand cup his.

“I wanna feel you, Yunho”, you answer him, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was only the two of you within the confines of the room.

Yunho feels like he’s not close enough to you, even though the both of you are squeezed together, and his erection is evident—pressing shamelessly against the curve of your ass. It’s driving up the wall.

Another thing he doesn’t expect is the way your fingers curl around his wrist, and you bring him to your braless tits, and he short-circuits when his fingers press against your hard nipples. You curse softly when he rolls them gently against his fingertips, and you lean back against his chest. Yunho takes the chance to kiss your neck down to your shoulders, making you melt all over again.

But he doesn’t want to stay there for long. His cock is just throbbing and it’s overtaking his rationale.

You always offhandedly complimented that Yunho had such long, slender and pretty fingers, and that he made mundane actions—writing, typing—look so attractive.

And now, his fingers are prying your legs to spread open for him.

His fingers dip into the wetness of your soaked folds, and his mind almost completely blanks out for the second time at the way you’re drenched for him.

“Fuck. All of this for me?” He asks rhetorically, as he easily sinks two fingers in, hearing you choke from how his fingers are filling you up so well. The tip of his fingertips press against a spongy spot, and your head tilts back, face so flushed from the pleasure when he begins curl his fingers while in you and while he fucks your wet cunt.

He’s not letting you form any coherent thoughts in your head, not while he’s finger fucking the thoughts right out your poor brain.

“You’re so fucking soft. Shit. I really want to fuck you so fucking bad”, he grunts in your ear, his hips grinding against your ass like a natural instinct to.

“Your cock”, you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open and mind clear. “Fuck. Need you to fuck me so good.”

Yunho inhales the scent of your hair wash as he peppers bites and kisses down the nape of your neck, smiling when he feels goosebumps spread across your skin.

He’s so tempted. But not yet. He desperate—desperate to see you fucking fall apart just with his fingers.

So he pulls his soaked fingers out, and for a moment, you whine at how empty your cunt feels, just ready to fucking beg him to fuck you with his fingers, his cock, whatever.

He sits up, pushing the thick and heavy blankets aside, tugging your wet bottoms and panties off, giving himself a mental reminder to pocket your panties when he’s done with you.

You’re spread open and perfectly wide for him to admire and drool over. By now, his eyes are pretty much adjusted the darkness, and the both of you are lazy to switch on the nightlight, so he’s definitely able to see your pussy in full view.

“Y-yu-“, your words completely cut off when he plunges two fingers right into your pussy again, filling you up completely. And this time, his other hand is on your clit, fingers rubbing, sending sparks flying beneath your eyelids.

The pleasure makes you buck your hips, and it builds so dangerously quick in your abdomen. The sounds of your pussy growing so fucking wet only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, catching a rhythm of fucking and rubbing your clit so perfectly that you realise the feeling is growing way too funny.

“Y-Yunho-“ you try again. “Oh god. Feels weird.” Nonetheless, you don’t say it without your eyes rolling back and your abdomen flexing.

“That’s it. Let it go for me, baby. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

Oh fuck. You don’t even register it before it happens—it totally washes over you, and you’re just helplessly submitting to how fucking good this feels as you squirt all over Yunho, your mind swimming in the depths of ecstasy, your moans drowned when Yunho seals your lips shut with his, greedy to just keep them all to himself, and well, also not trying to wake the whole chalet up.

When Yunho pulls back and sees how flushed spent your face looks, he can’t help but sink deeper into his feelings for you. He goes in for another kiss, this time with your mind slowly clearing from the mind-blowing orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck instantly, pulling him as close as you could, soft moans in between kisses only making him impossibly harder than he already was.

He shifts to lie down on the bed with you again, this time the both of you facing each other. He tugs the hem of your shirt and lugs it over your head, before lowering himself slightly to face your chest. You don’t know how but his pants are somehow kicked off, somewhere on the bed, and he’s bare and so fucking hard when he presses his cock on your pussy.

“Lift your leg for me, babe”, he says, palm sliding on the underside of your thigh as he feels you spread your legs open for him once more.

Yunho rubs his cockhead along your wet fucking folds, before he pushes himself in, a whimper leaving his lips as he bites on your shoulder to stop any loud noises from slipping past his lips.

He pushes himself in even more, and your arms are around his neck once more, light red imprints from your fingernails dig into his skin.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Feels like fucking heaven. So fucking tight and soft”, he mutters, eyes so glazed, and arms so tight around you when he finally buries himself into the hilt.

Your mind is complete mush by then—combined with Yunho’s cock that’s stuffed in you and the scent of his hair wash, you swear you were gonna cum for the second time. You knew he probably packed something, but holy fucking shit, you just never thought it would fill you up this fucking good. The rest of your senses slowly start to dull, the feeling of Yunho’s cock almost taking them all away.

“Shit. You’re fucking squeezing me-fuck!-here,” Yunho says, but it comes off as a broken moan. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, and you hear him trying to steady his breath through a slew of curses.

“You wanna move now?” You ask, your fingers combing through his messy locks. Yunho thinks he might have some sort of hair combing fetish with you now.

“Fuck, yes, please,” is all he replies before he pulls out slightly, then thrusting right back in, projecting fucking stars into your eyelids when he fills you up again and again.

You press your head against the pillow, eyes shut from the pleasure. When you find the strength to open them, Yunho’s glazed out expression is what comes into view. He’s looking at you like you’re his fucking treasure.

“Does it feel good? You feel so fucking amazing, y/n.”

“You can’t be asking me that when you’re fucking the thoughts right out of me”, and you squeal when he thrusts into you once more, filling you up to the brim.

“Even better. So my cock will be only the cock you know, right?” He smiles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when your walls clench around him again.

And when you don’t answer, his hand slithers to your neck, and he squeezes, making you gasp.

“Answer me, pretty.”

“Yes, fuck yes. Don’t need anyone else’s when you’re fucking me so good”, you cry, relishing in the way he’s gradually cutting off your oxygen supply.

His thrusts grow harder and faster, his hands slowly letting go of your throat.

“That’s my good girl.”

And that makes your cunt flutter and pulsate uncontrollably for the second time, only now it’s on his cock this time.

“F-fuck. Oh, that’s it. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, his voice ups a pitch when you fall apart again. “I’m gonna cum. Make sure you’re full and dripping when I’m fucking done with you.”

And when he does, he leaves a whole garden of bites on your chest and shoulders on top of filling your pussy up with his thick and warm cum. You never thought his face would get anymore attractive, but when he cums? You could get addicted to pulling that expression out of him, that’s for sure.

The both of you are panting as your highs wear off, hands still not off each other despite the shared warmth. He’s the first to let go, and you’re about to say something until he turns you around, and it’s then when his cock starts to harden in you. Your heart is beating rapidly again when his cock is filling you up once more, as it slowly displaces his cum that leaks past your sopping hole.

Your hand grabs onto his arm that’s snaking around your waist.

“W-wait. We need to talk about my broth-“, and he hears you whimper when he pushes himself deeper into you, throbbing in you. The way he’s littering kisses down your neck is sending you into a spiral, and now you’re nothing but weak against him, and his fat cock.

“That can wait to tomorrow, babe. I promised that I’ll make sure you’re full and dripping once I’m fucking done with you right? Well, I’m not done fucking you yet.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #jeong yunho #y/n x yunho #yunho ateez #ateez jongho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #Spotify

5K notes · View notes