#s-class dance practice

[stray-but-okay]

"I'ma make it look, make it look, look so easy"

[felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna]

the cat like reflexes make another appearance

[hanjesungs]

random jisung gifs so i can suffer [34/ ∞]  

[kpopmultifan]

Stray Kids has released the dance practice (suit version) for “S-Class,” the title track of their 3rd album “★★★★★ (5-STAR)."

[Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify] [YouTube Music]

[five-star-stay]

230608 - Han Jisung

[sunmisbf]

what if i said this is their 2nd best title track after miroh

[nottmlindyhop]

JULY24 - Class dates and Summer Social

Hi everyone! This is a brief note just to say that our class dates for July are confirmed. See our classes info page for more detailed information on times, levels and cost. Solo Jazz and Charleston Mondays 1 and 15 July Lindy Hop Sundays 7 and 14 July Summer Social (and Lisa’s Birthday) Sunday 28 July More details on the social to follow. For now save the date!

[averagestay]

blonde seungmin in a suit……someone pls scream abt this with me 😔✊🏻

[iarchmybaculaa]

Pairing: Ex! Jungkook x reader

Rating: 18+ (Please be mindful of what you consume)

Warnings: Jungkook is subjectively a little toxic, Mentions of an ongoing divorce, possessive! Jungkook, Girl Dad! Jungkook, unprotected sex (don't do that irl), oral sex (f receiving), Slight brat reader, Jeon Jungkook is a menace, reader is implied to be black

Word count: 5.2 k (I think)

🎧: Woo- Rihanna

For: @hobicakess and Paige💗

Jungkook is good at a lot of things

Hes a fantastic singer. He dances very well (even if he likes to fein shyness at parties). Jungkook can cook, he can multitask seamlessly and (almost) effortlessly, and he can put Jinhae to sleep in a matter of minutes… It would be much easier to list the things that Jungkook isn't good at.

Jungkook isn't very good at sharing.

He doesn't like sharing food, clothes or people.

You think it may be his biggest if not only flaw.

Jungkook considers the people in his life his. He doesn't expect them to have the same importance in someone else's life, as they do in his. And he doesn't expect them to think of other people the way they do of him, either.

You don't know if it's because he fears that he'll be replaced, or because he was raised as an only child. But whatever it was, Jungkook let it consume him. Holistically.

You remember how he had reacted when Yoongi- his mentor,had taken on a new intern. Jungkook and Yoongi had attended the same highschool within a few years of each other; and had met again when Yoongi was a TA at SNU. Yoongi had taken Jungkook under his wing, as less of a student, and more like a little brother; and their bond lasted way beyond college. Yoongi was so proud of Jungkook that he was practically All he spoke about. Jungkook had gotten used to things being that way.

Then one day, all of a sudden, Yoongi was no longer “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook”; he was all “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin” much to the Younger's chagrin.

To his credit, Jungkook was nothing but nice to Jimin during the time he worked for Yoongi. He bought him coffee once in a while and even invited him out for drinks whenever the opportunity arose. Jimin was cool. Jungkook would even go as far as to say that Jimin was his friend. Jungkook barely knew the guy! He had nothing against him.

It was Yoongi he was pissed at.

Yoongi was the one who owed Jungkook his loyalty. Yoongi was the one who had nursed Jungkook through his first hangover, and held him when he cried about failing a class. Yoongi was there when Jungkook got his first, off campus apartment. Yoongi was Jungkook 's Yoongi.

At first, Yoongi didn't understand it. It made no sense that Jungkook seemed so fond of Jimin, yet he soured whenever the latter's name was mentioned. It gave him whiplash. It went on for a solid month and a half of Jungkook's scowls and petulant pouts for Yoongi to finally realize that something was deeply wrong, and that he needed to get to the bottom of it.

It took 2 bottles of soju and 3 glasses of whiskey for Jungkook to crack. His reasoning was so funny that Yoongi almost didn't feel bad for laughing at him. All it took to pacify Jungkook was for Yoongi to give him a hug, followed by a quick

“you'll always be hyung's favourite, Kook-ah.” as he ruffled his hair.

Jungkook was only 22 when that had happened. And he'd like to believe he's grown a lot since then.

He's advanced enough in his career that he's not Mr. Bang's payroll anymore, but rather pays him. Jungkook has grown in a literal sense too, having had a growth spurt one random day after he turned 23 (there was no containing him once he realized that he was 6 feet tall) .

Jungkook has (helped) create life; your daughter Jinhae. It's the thing he's proudest of, second only to marrying you.

But Jungkook is only human.

So it's only natural that he feels an itch rise on the back of his neck everytime he picks Jinhae up from your apartment, and all she can talk about is your new boyfriend.

He got so…irritated the more Jinhae babbled on about “Woo- Woo” that he felt a little silly. But who could blame him? He would be holding Jinhae 's hand as they walked through the park for their daddy daughter time, and every other sentence would be about this ‘’Woo Woo”.

Seokjin had once joked that she had switched from being 'Daddy's girl' to 'Woo-Woo’s girl' , and Jungkook 's body took a screenshot. He shot Jin a look so vile, that the older stayed quiet for the rest of the day.

Jungkook really had tried to ignore it as best as possible. And he (thought) he was doing fairly well until that evening, when Jinhae had let it slip that:

‘’Mama kissed Woo-Woo today.”

He had just picked her up from her taekwondo class, and was about to pull out of the parking lot when Jinhae gave him the oh so lovely news.

Jungkook isn't a monster, he thinks he's let this little charade go on for much longer than was respectable. He wasn't going to let that slide.

He took a sharp left and sped down the highway. If he wasn't so caught up in his head, he would've heard Jinhae 's excited scream of:

“YAY! we're going to Uncle Yoonie's house’

You had just finished taking a long, warm bath. Your feet had been aching, and your back felt worse than it did before you had gotten your epidural. You needed a break; desperately.

The silence in the apartment was a welcome change.

You loved Jinhae with all your heart, but children were tiring to deal with alone. Children could be incredibly difficult, just for the fun of it. Especially spoilt, almost-five year olds who are used to their daddy obeying their every beck and call.

God forbid you didn't do “ the voice” right, after reading “The little Prince” five times in a row! suddenly you were public enemy number one.

At least you could bask in the fact that Jinhae never threw (noisy) tantrums or threw things, but you felt that she had quadruple the attitude your hus- ex, accused you of having.

But tonight, the only attitude you have to worry about dealing with, was from Kim when you researched the earliest seasons of Keeping up with the Kardashians. What can you say? There's truly nothing funnier to you than upper class white women trying to be relatable. To this dat, their target audience was a mystery to you. You can't think of a single person whose biggest problem was how many times their name got googled in a day. You find it hard to take anything they ‘’go through' seriously, because if we're being honest, people really are dying Kim!

You walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a soft white robe.

You reach for the the lilac, silk pajama set laid out on your bed. You had bought it from an online lingerie store, after a few glasses of wine a few weeks ago. You had been so…bored that you did the most exciting thing your numb brain could come up with in that moment.

You scoff at your past self. It was more cute than anything, not nearly as scandalous as some of the items you have hidden in the back of your closest. But you're not complaining.

The shorts are a bit shorter than you expected, but the silk is soft a high quality, and the lace that lines the top isn't itchy at all. You untwist your bun, and your braids cascade down your shoulders. You grab the bottle of black castor oil from your dresser, and run the nozzle along the parts. You sigh as you reach up to massage your scalp.

It's in little moments like these that you miss Jungkook the most. You hate to admit, but you used to be just as spoilt as Jinhae. Jungkook used to pamper you in every way possible. He would oil your scalp for you, order your hair products months in advance so that you'd never run out, and give you massages whenever your shoulders stood too rigid.

But you didn't have Jungkook anymore. You suck your teeth in annoyance at yourself for thinking about him so much.

You had just finished applying your vitamin c serum to your face, when you heard an incessant pounding on your door. You pause your music just as Kali Uchis asks if she can get a kiss. You're confused as to why someone is knocking on your door, when you have a very obvious doorbell attached to the frame. It's even stranger given what time it is.

You slip your feet into your cow print night slippers, as you step off the plush rug that lay on the floor in front of your vanity; and unto the floor.

The slippers slap against the floor as you walk towards the living room, and to whoever the hell wouldn't stop pounding on your door at 9pm on a Friday.

You throw the door open, ready to demand an explanation when you stop dead in your tracks.

To say you're surprised at who is standing at your door would be an understatement. You're not sure who you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't Jungkook. You're even more surprised to see him without Jinhae in tow.

You don't think that you've been alone with Jungkook for more than a few minutes at a time since the divorce; and even so, Jinhae has always been just a few feet away.

You feel worry start to settle in your stomach.

“Where's JJ? Is she okay?” You ask, praying that what came out of his mouth next isn't bad news.

He chuckes. It's a sound that comes from deep inside his chest and reverberates across the empty hallway. It's an empty laugh, with no humour behind it. It makes a chill run up and down your spine.

“Jinie is fine. She's with Yoongi; and she's the last of your worries right now” he says.

For once, Jungkook hasn't cracked a single smile the entire time he's been in your presence. It's obvious that he's mad, but you're not sure at what. You're not sure that you vare.

He isn't wearing a suit right now, and you can't recall the last time you'd seen him in anything but.

Jungkook worked extraordinarily long hours. You knew that working late and being burnt out would be a part of his life, especially the more his business grew, but it hadn't phased you at the time. There was nothing to be phased about.

At the time, Jungkook always put you first. And when Jinhae was born, he did the same thing. There was never a time where he had left you to fend for yourself with a newborn. He had been there through it all. From colic, to 3 am feedings to explosive diaper changes. He had never let you feel alone as a parent, or in your marriage.

Until around 8 months ago that is.

8 months ago, you feel like Jungkook had just stopped trying.

You know for a fact that Jungkook is terrified of being poor. It's why he always has another merger to make with one of his three companies, and dips his toes into every industry imaginable. His influence spanned over tech, real estate and even clothing. You think Jungkook's fear is understandable, you don't think it's fair. It was teetering on the edge of paranoia and greed.

He was trying so bad to make sure that he could take care of his family, that he wasnt.

He would get home from work after Jinhae went to bed, and left before she got ready for school. You had spent one too many nights falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home; only to wake up in your bed the next morning with a handwritten note on your bathroom mirror. They were sweet and all..but not much more.

As much as you appreciated the affirmations, his words meant nothing when there was no action behind them. Promises to come home home early the, family outings that never happened… You felt like you were a kid whose love was expected to be bought with money, and placated with empty commitments all over again. You could count on a bouquet of roses being delivered at your door every morning, more than you could count on your own husband being there.

You hated it.

You were starting to hate him.

It had gotten to a point where Jungkook had just given his secretary reign over his personal phone. You almost lost your mind when you had called him to ask what he wanted for dinner once, and she answered and told you that he was busy.

You could hear Jungkook 's laughter in the background, and the noise was not a professional setting. In fact, it sounded a lot more intimate and cozy. Like a restaurant or small bar. You felt sick to your stomach. You couldn't even get the chance to talk to Jungkook about it, because you barely saw him.

The look on his face when you served him the divorce papers in person at his office was borderline comical. His eyes had widened so far out of their sockets, that you thought the expression was causing him physical pain. You had said nothing. You simply handed him the papers and stayed long enough for him to read the heading. He clearly wanted to communicate through words on paper, so who were you to not oblige him with some?

As far as you know, Jungkook had never signed the papers, but he did follow all the other conditions you had outlined in your petition for separation.

He got an apartment for you and Jinhae in a building he didn't own, and was never late for any pickups or dropoffs, save for once when he had the flu.

A part of you had forgotten how young Jungkook was.

The suits he wore aged him plenty. Not in an old, haggard way, but in a way that made him appear more refined and serious than he actually was. His hair was always cut short and clicked away from his face. The collars of his shirts were always ironed to sharpness. Hell, he even wore sensible shoes.

If you hadn't seen every inch of Jungkook 's body before, and gone to college with him…You would have pegged him for an uptight dogooder. You're sure it helped him get taken seriously in the corporate world, but overtime, it was as if Jungkook had forgotten his roots. As if he had morphed into a no nonsense, mormon-esque version of himself.

But the Jungkook standing before you now, is the Jungkook you know and lov- respected. Jungkook who proudly wore his colorful sleeve of tattoos,silver hoops through his lips and a stud in his nose. The Jungkook who liked to wear cargo pants and oversized shirts with stomper boots he could barely walk straight in.

You knew he had showered before he had come over, because his hair was still curly. He hadn't blow-dried it. His hair is much longer than it was when you had last saw him. It fell past his eyes now. He had started growing it out sgain because Jinhae told him she wanted to. At least, that's what he had told you.

What had really happened was that Jinhae had been asking a lot of questions about “ when appa wasn't so old” one Saturday when they had gone out for ice cream.

“Appa, Mommy says your hair used to be w-eally long and pwetty. Can it come back? Mommy misses it.”

Jungkook hadn't cut his hair again since.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” He asks, one eyebrow raised at you.

You fold your arms across your chest.

“I'm not sure why I should. Besides, I don't think that this is a good time.”

“Oh? Why's that? You lip expecting someone else,princess?’ He takes in your attire from head to toe. His eyes linger for a little too long in your chest. His voice goes deeper as he struggles to finish his last question.

You don't answer, and it makes his eye twitch.

It's so ridiculous, yet so on brand of him to create a hypothetical scenario in his head and get all eaten up about it. He takes a deep breath.

He doesn't want to blow his fuse. Not here, Not yet.

“ I need to talk to you. Inside. Please.” He asks, but it's not really a request.

You roll your eyes and turn your back to him as you walk away.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches your ass jiggle in the tiny shorts. He enters behind you, and the door closes softly with a click.

You walk over to the fridge and grab the unfinished can of Arizona Iced tea, and a glass from the cupboard. You were looking forward to having a glass of wine tonight, but if you were going to talk to Jungkook… you needed to be stone cold sober.

“You want anything?” You ask, as you pour the content into the glass. “ I think I have some b-”

“What I want is answers.” He says simply, leaning in the arched entryway.

You look at him with confusion written all over your face, before your pettiness takes over.

“ Oh yeah? Well I wanted signed divorce papers, and yet here we are.”

You take a swig from your cup and let the sweetness of the drink coat your tongue.

You see Jungkook release a breath so deep that his entire body shakes.

“ Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says with his arms crossed against his chest. “Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

You're getting irritated now, because for one, what the hell is he talking about, and two…Who was Jungkook to talk to you like that?

“Jungkook. First of all, she's our kid. And secondly, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. And even if I did… I wouldn't tell you jack shit. What or who I do is none of your business.”

Jungkook pushes himself off the threshold and starts walking towards you. His steps are slow and strong. His strides are long,and he has your back pressed into the counter in a matter of seconds.

You haven't been so close to Jungkook in so long, that everything about him overwhelms you in the best way possible. He smells so, so good. He smells like sandalwood and warm vanilla. He smells like home. His proximity to you is dizzying, and you can only pray that you'll keep it together.

He puts his arm on one side of you, leaving your left completely open. If you wanted to get away from him, you could. You stayed in place. It tells him everything he needs to know.

“Have you completely lost your fucking mind Y/N?” He questions. He reaches for your left hand and your heart sinks down to your ass. The diamond of your wedding ring glitters under the lights hanging from the the ceiling. The princess cut stone is practically mocking you.

“What do you think I gave you this ring for huh? Fun? Fucking decoration?” He jests, “You know, for someone who never shuts her big mouth up about divorce, you sure keep this on don't you baby?”

You don't deny it. There's no point in doing so. You know that if you do, he'll lift the ring upwards. And you know that when he does, he'll find the unmistakable circle of a tan line wrapping around your ring finger.

He strokes his thumb against your cheek, and you almost preen at his touch. “Who's ‘Woo- Woo’ baby?”

“None of your business.” You bite out.

“When are you gonna get it through your thick skull, that you are my business?!”

He runs his hand through his long hair, and you can see his face so much better. He's as beautiful as you remember and he's right in front of you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but you do know how soft lips feel as they press against yours. You fell the metal of his lip piercings touch the roof of your mouth as you suck his lip into you mouth.

He puts his hand under your ass, and your legs wrap around him on instinct. He lifts you and bring you over to the cool marble of the kitchen island.

His hand tugs on the hem of your blouse, and you pull away from him.

“Kook, we can't.” You whine as you pull away.

Jungkook uses his thumb to wipe some of the spit from the corner of your mouth, and fixes your shirt so your boob is no longer at risk of spilling out.

“Okay baby, we'll stop and we can talk over dinner. Do you want me to make something or do you want to get takeout?” He asked as he pulls away from you.

He doesn't get very far, because you wrap your legs around him, and pull you back to him.

“Wait- I didn't really mean that.” You whisper. Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion that you weren't just talking about telling him no.

“You want me baby?”

You nod your head yes, too embarrassed to open your mouth lest your voice shake.

He cradles your face, and tilts it upwards so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You answer affirmatively, reaching forwards to capture his lips again.

Youre not even thinking about the Pandora's box that you might be opening; and quite frankly? You don't care.

You're acutely aware that you wont be able to blame your decision on being drunk or tipsy. The only thing driving you was a burning need to have Jungkook deep inside you (where he belonged).

He litters kisses along your neck as he slides his hand down your shorts. Your hips buck forward on instinct, and you shudder as you feel his fingers ghost your clit.

“Why are you naked under here?” He growls out. grip tightening around you waist. “I'm starting to think that you were expecting someone tonight.” he muses.

He spreads your folds with two fingers, reveling in the way your arousal leaks out of you and unto his fingers.

“ Is that why you're so eager, baby? Hm? Is that why you're so wet? You decided that you were gonna get fucked one way or another? Is that it?”

He asks each question as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. It shallow. He doesn't allow you the pleasure of going further than his first knuckle. You try to grind down on his digits, but he holds your hips down with his free hand.

“Whoever you've been giving my pussy away to, hasn't been doing a very good job... have they?” He groans as you clench around him.

“Jungkook please. I want-”

“Shh baby, I know. I'll give it to you I promise. Just give me one first” he begs as he speeds up his circles on your clit.

He sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your neck, and you cum almost instantly. Your body shakes and you wrap your arms around his neck as your pussy convulses around his fingers.

You barely have time to recover before he's pulling your shorts down, and cleaning up the mess you made. He catches the slick of you orgasm on your tongue just as it starts running down your leg.

He goes at your pussy like a man starved. You cry out the moment his tongue enters you. You ride his tongue with vigor, gripping unto the counter for stability.

Jungkook pulls away from you for moment. His mouth is shiny from your juices, and his eyes are already so blown out that you want to fuck him even more.

He guides your hand to his hair, and encourages you to grab the tendrils.

“Use me, baby” he instructs.

His voice is so gravelly and raw, that you can do nothing but oblige him.

You grip the roots of his hair and push his head back between your legs. You both moan when he starts lapping at you again. You hold his head in place, guiding him where you want him; where you need him.

The second time you cum, your legs closed so tight around his head that Jungkook thought he had died and went straight to heaven.

You pull him away from your core by his hair, and bring him up to your face. You clean his face with your own tongue, and lean in to kiss him so you both taste like you. Your chests are still heaving when Jungkook carries you to your room.

He lays you gently on the bed, and takes his shirt off at the same time you toss your blouse over your head. He's about to undo the strings of his sweatpants when he stops cold in his tracks..

“ Shit, baby…I don't have any condoms. I didn't plan on this-”

“ It's okay,” You reassure him “ I'm clean. Are you?”

Jungkook looks a little scandalized. “Of course I'm clean, I haven't - I havent been with anyone except you since before we started dating.” His honesty shines so brightly in his eyes that you almost want to pull him into a hug.

You release a shaky, nervous breath you didn't know you had been holding.

“ Good. I want to feel you, all of you.”

The bed sinks as Jungkook climbs over you, one leg on each side of your body.

You've missed this view. Him on top of you, chain swining in your face, and big doe eyes filled with lust for you and only you.

He takes a hairtye from around his wrists, and pulls his hair into a low manbun. His cock is already painfully hard, red and leaking from the tip.

You spread your legs as Jungkook nestkes in-between them. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to your calf.

He rubs himself between your folds, mesmerized by how quickly your wetness coats him.

He lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses.

“Are you sure you're ready baby? I don't want to hurt you.”

“ Is that it? Or are you scared that you don't hold a candle to ‘Woo-Woo’ my” you jest. Jungkook doesn't find it very funny.

He pushes himself into you, but as wet as you are, you're still so, so tight. Your pussy is so warm…hot even, that Jungkook almost cums the moment yes fully sheathed in you.

You're just as tight as he remembers, tighter even.

You both moan when he delivers his first thrust. You haven't had dick in so long,that you'd forgot what it felt like. How it felt like to have your walls stretched and your g spot caressed, how delicious and heavy the drag was inside you. How good Jungkook was at this. You feel so good that Jungkook practically forgets that he's supposed to be mad at you.

“You know you belong to me right?” Jungkook demands as he thrusts into you, slow and forceful. You don't answer and turn your face away from him He wraps his hand around your throat as speed up.

“Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!”

His thrusts become faster, punishing. He practically ploughs you into the mattress as whatever restraint he had before vanishes into thin air. You scream the more intense the pleasure gets.

“ I should fuck another baby into you, you know that? Hm? Should swell your tummy up with another one of my kids, so you have nine months to think about why the fuck you would do something as stupid as try to leave me.”

He finds your gspot as effortlessly as he usually does, and he hits it over and over and over again.

“Jungkook PLEASE” you cry. You reach your hand out to push against the hardness of his abdomen. He takes your hand and kisses it. You're so close. So fucking close, and Jungkook can tell.

“You want to cum, don't you baby?”

You nod frantically. Your pussy is practically raw from overstimulation, and you feel so much pressure building inside you that you don't know whether you want to run away from the pleasure or dive headfirst into it.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I need to please.”

“Then tell me. Fucking tell me you're mine”

“Fuck, I'm yours, Jungkook! Please!” you cry.

“ How many people have you fucked since you left? Answer me!” He commands you, adding a finger to your clit to the mix.

“Nobody, no one, Jungkook Please!”

“ I know baby, I just needed you to admit it.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss to your temple. He gives you two more delicious thrusts that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Your lurches forward as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls convulse around him, squeezing him so tight that Jungkook feels a bit dizzy.

“Baby,” he whines “unwrap your legs so I can pull out.” He gasps when your legs only wrap tighter around him. “Baby, I have to-”

“N-no,” you protest “ I want it inside Jungkook please.”

He cums so forcefully that his orgasm leaves him winded and his arms almost give out. He spils his seed into you, and you feel the warmth of it coat your walls.

He pulls out of you as he begins to soften, and collapse beside you as he tries to catch his breath. You both turn to look at each other, and Jungkook offers you a soft smile.

He notices the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, and turns his head to switch your fan on.

That's when you see it. Your eyes bug out of their sockets.

“Jungkook, what the hell is that on your neck?”

“ What are you talking about?”

“Right there,” you turn his head to the right to get a better look. Your heart starts thumming uncontrollably in your chest. Because there it was, your name in bold black letters for everyone to see.

“Jungkook…When did you get that?”

“Hm…about five months ago?” he chuckles. He had the decency to look sheepish.

“Jungkook!” You say as you slap his chest “ We weren't even together!”

“ Correction, we are together, we just have separate living arrangements.”

You look at him incredulously.

“You're crazy, you know that?’

“About you? Yeah..Real crazy baby” he flirts “Hey, you never told me woo this ‘Woo-Woo’ guy is anyways .”

You roll you eyes at him as you climb of the bed.

“I can't tell you who he's not. He's not the one whose cum is dripping out of me right now. Are you gonna join me on the shower or what?”

Fin.

[mell0wjello]

𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓮?

How would the NRC boys fall for their beloved prefect?

! 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒾𝒶 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 !

~~~~~~

𝓚𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓶 𝓐𝓵-𝓐𝓼𝓲𝓶

Kalim knew from the start

And he was not ashamed to show it. In fact, it was quite obvious to anyone who knew him

Kalim was generous to all, but the way he invested so much money into restoring Ramshackle dorm and always brought you small (and by no means cheap) gifts to you every time he invited you to Scarabia incited the suspicion of people around him.

Kalim's love language is gifting and quality time! Can you blame him?

Jamil was the first to know.

The night Kalim realized, he went up to Jamil's room and knocked on his door to tell him all about it

His favorite part of you is your smile.

He’d try to take you on carpet rides all the time, and he loved sharing his food with you

He even asked Jamil to teach him how to cook so he could prepare lots of things for you

He really admired how resilient and positive you were against all odds

He wouldn’t formally ask you out, it would be more of an unspoken thing. He’d give you all the signs but it’s up to you if you reciprocate them or not

He’d be veryyy respectful of your boundaries. He’d never force you into something you wouldn’t want

If you never reciprocated back, he would honestly be hurt and a little confused. He’s not very used to rejection, but give him some time. Since there was never anything concrete between you two besides friends, he wouldn’t stop talking to you. He would, however be more silent. He’d watch from afar, but always respect your choice

If you did reciprocate, he’d be ecstatic. You’d notice how he’d become more confident with his advances.

Lots of PDA (As long as you’re comfortable). Hugging, holding hands. Sometimes light kisses on the

He’d tell Jamil all about your dates, practically gushing to him

His favorite spot to kiss is your hand. Backside, frontside, it doesn’t matter to him. He likes how soft it feels against his lips.

His favorite spot to be kissed is on the cheek.

~~~~~~

𝓙𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵 𝓥𝓲𝓹𝓮𝓻

Unlike Kalim, Jamil had no idea what struck him

It started quite softly. Piqued interest in the prefect with soaring grades, despite their lack of magic • Next thing he knows, he’s at Ramshackle dorm, studying with them. Not that he needs a tutor, no, he made that clear. He just wanted to observe.

Now, you were in his kitchen, cooking dinner for Scarabia.

First, your dorm, then his kitchen, and now his thoughts. When did he let you get this close?

Jamil was reluctant at this realization, almost wary and cautious

He had let his guard down around you, and yet, a part of him was completely fine by it

He’d try so hard to put his walls back on, but you were just devoid of any animosity towards him, it was hard to conceal himself

He just couldn’t lie to you. For the first time, he could unravel himself in front of someone and feel safe

It clicked suddenly for him. The fuzzy feeling in his chest was something he was scared to admit

Nobody could really tell. Not even Kalim, although he did notice slight changes in Jamil

Jamils main love language is acts of service and physical touch

He often tries to involve this in his outings with you, for example, going out to buy ingredients from Sam's shop

Jamil is a jealous man, although this isn't very noticeable. No one can tell, but when another guy approaches you to ask for a pen in class (you are the only one who uses magicless pens at school), he is fuming in his head.

Jamil´s favorite part of you are the legs. He loves how elegant and graceful they look as you dance with him

Jamil isn't much of a risk-taker. He's calculating. He'd make sure that you too were on the same page as him before confessing to you. This would be done in an intimate setting, where the both of you are alone and secluded.

If things didn't go as planned for Jamil, he would reasonably be quite upset. Opening up was something he'd never done for anyone, and for that person to not feel the same as him was a harsh blow. He'd gradually grow distant from you afterward. It's his way of re-establishing the walls that you had torn down.

If you felt the same way about him, Jamil would be overjoyed. He'd embrace you in his arms and sigh with relief. The itching feeling at his throat was now gone. You were his, and he was yours.

All of his affection and display of physical touch would happen in private and often manifest into cuddling sessions or sometimes something more intimate.

His favorite spot to kiss you is on your ear. He enjoys knowing you can experience his kisses with two of your senses instead of one, and he even gets to see you flinch from time to time

His favorite spot to be kissed on is the neck. The position you take to reach that spot brings you closer to him and he enjoys feeling your warmth

~~~~~~

[covenofagatha]

Two professors and a student (Part 2)

Word count: 1800

Warnings: oral sex, dirty talk, slight consensual somnophilia

When Rio wakes up the next morning, the first thing she notices is Agatha. 

Rio’s girlfriend is clearly having a good dream. Agatha is laying on her side facing Rio, long dark hair strewn around her pillow, a blissed expression on her face, and the slightest bit of undulation from her hips. Rio smirks and pushes herself up on her elbows so she can get a better look. 

And then Agatha moans ever so quietly. 

A rush of heat flows through Rio. She usually doesn’t get to see Agatha like this: so unburdened, so free, so full of pleasure. Agatha has a hard time letting go, even when she lets Rio be in control. But now, Rio chuckles to herself. 

Rio maneuvers herself so she’s practically pressed against Agatha and is content at first to just slide a thigh between Agatha’s legs. She lets out a gasp at the feeling of the wet heat now against her legs. Agatha is really worked up. She grabs her sleeping girlfriend’s hips, merely guiding her against her. 

And then Agatha breathes out a name. 

But it’s not Rio’s. 

It’s the name of their former student, you, who they had both not been able to stop thinking about since the bar last night. 

Rio had always known Agatha had a soft spot for you. A little crush, even. She could see it in the way Agatha would fondly talk about you coming by her office, the way she praised your writing and your answers in class. How she proclaimed that you seemed to be the only student that could go toe-to-toe with her. Rio had teased her mercilessly about it, and she could always tell there was a little truth to her words based on the way Agatha would flush red. 

But it wasn’t until she had you in her class this past semester that she realized she couldn’t blame Agatha in the least. 

You had always come to her class with a sort of eagerness in your eyes, the kind that was hard to come by these days. You drank in every word Rio said during lectures, coming up with the most interesting questions to ask. Of course she found you attractive, but it was your mind that had really drawn Rio in. 

Rio found herself bringing you up more and more in conversations with Agatha. It was almost like both Rio and Agatha knew what they wanted, but had to dance around the subject at first. Plus, you were still Rio’s student. 

Until last night. 

Whether it be some sort of fate, or truly just a coincidence, you had walked into the bar on the final day of the semester. 

Rio had been the one to spot you, strutting into the bar with confidence and a tight black skirt that hugged your curves just right. 

“Agatha,” Rio had said, gesturing for her to look behind her. When she had seen you (and what you were wearing), she turned back to face Rio. 

“She’s not your student anymore,” Agatha pointed out. It was the closest either of them had actually come to saying out loud what they both wanted with you. 

Rio had met Agatha’s eyes with a sort of pleading look in them, and without another word, Agatha got up and joined you at the bar. 

And now, Agatha is grinding down on Rio’s thigh as your name falls out of her mouth quietly. 

It’s not enough for Rio, though. 

Rio untangles her leg from Agatha’s and gently turns the older woman so she’s laying on her back now. Rio throws back the sheets and moves down between her thighs. She spreads them open, hikes up the purple sheet her girlfriend was sleeping in, and almost moans at how she’s soaked through her underwear. 

Agatha is a mess. 

Rio doesn’t even take the time to peel her underwear off, she just slides it to the side and runs her tongue up Agatha’s slit. 

Agatha’s hips buck against Rio’s face and Rio digs her nails into Agatha’s thighs to hold her still. 

She experimentally dips her tongue inside and then glides it up to swirl at her clit. 

Agatha’s moans continue to grow louder as Rio picks up her pace and intensity. Rio has completely lost herself in the taste of Agatha’s pussy so she startles a little when a hand grabs onto her head. 

Rio doesn’t stop but flicks her eyes up to find Agatha’s dark eyes locked on her. 

“Rio,” she pants, fist tightening in her hair. 

Rio smirks against her cunt, gives her one last hard lick, and then climbs up so she can kiss Agatha. It starts out heated and Agatha’s hands come up to clasp Rio’s cheeks to pull her in even deeper if possible. 

“Have a good dream?” Rio asks playfully once they break apart. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Agatha turn this red before. “You were saying some interesting things.” 

Agatha groans and covers her face with her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. Rio laughs and tugs at her wrists.

“Want to tell me what you were dreaming about? Maybe a certain former student of ours?” 

“Don’t be mad,” Agatha says meekly. 

“I’m not, baby. I want you to tell me about it,” Rio promises and moves back down the bed so she’s back between Agatha’s legs. She’s practically dripping on the sheets now. “And if you stop talking, I’ll stop too.” 

Agatha’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as Rio drags her tongue slowly through her folds. Now that she’s awake, she can revel even more in the feel of Rio’s hot mouth. 

But Rio pulls away too soon. “Start talking,” she demands, looking up at Agatha expectantly. 

Agatha swallows hard and weaves her fingers into Rio’s hair preemptively. “We invited her over for dinner,” she begins, words coming out brokenly as Rio goes back to eating her out. “She came wearing this black dress, it looked so delicious on her. You poured her a glass of wine but accidentally spilled it over her so she had to take it off.” 

Rio moans involuntarily at the thought and Agatha jumps at the vibration against her. 

“She kissed you and then me. Then watched us kiss each other.” She’s sounding more breathless, and Rio’s not sure if it’s more because of her devouring her cunt, or the memory of the dream. “We brought her up to the bedroom and laid her down. She touched herself while we kissed some more. It was so hot, baby.” 

Rio can’t help from moaning again, right into Agatha’s pussy. The visual is now ingrained in her brain and it’s affecting her more than she’d like to admit. “Keep going.”

“She was laying against my front and I played with her nipples as you ate her out. I left marks on her neck and you devoured her like you’re doing to me now. The stimulation was so much and she came over your face so quickly,” Agatha keens, hips grinding faster against Rio’s tongue. 

Rio can feel that her girlfriend is close and she slips a hand between her own legs to relieve some of the pressure. She whimpers at the wetness that meets her. Hearing Agatha talk about the three of you like this has really done a number on her. 

“Fuck, Rio,” Agatha breathes. 

“Don’t stop talking,” Rio warns, barely moving her mouth off Agatha’s cunt. 

“You sat on her face and she made you feel so good,” Agatha practically sobs, clenching around Rio’s tongue, nails digging into her head. Rio picks up her pace, jaw starting to ache but she doesn’t dream of stopping. Agatha is so close. “And then I fucked her with the strap, just watching you ride her pretty little mouth. She took it so well. She was so good for us. You soaked her face and she came all over my cock.” 

And that picture with a hard suck to her clit is all Agatha needs to teeter over the edge and cum with a loud moan. Rio’s not sure she’s ever seen the other woman this turned on, or this vocal. And she loves it. 

Rio licks her through the aftershocks while she moves her own fingers against herself and follows suit quickly, groaning into Agatha’s cunt. It’s too much for Agatha, who weakly tugs Rio away from her. 

Rio chuckles as she flops down next to Agatha and leans in to kiss her. “Wow,” she says. 

“Should we text her?” Agatha asks, desperation leaking into her voice despite her trying to remain casual. 

Rio smirks and rolls over to grab her phone. 

***

You’re drenched in sweat when you get back to your dorm after your morning run. The only thing on your mind is taking a shower when your phone buzzes. 

You tap the screen and see a text from an unknown number. Your heart pounds fast as you quickly go wash your hands. 

Hey, y/n, it’s Rio. Agatha and I were wondering if you’d like to get dinner with us this week. 

You had barely heard a word your friends had said last night because you were so focused on the two professors. You still can’t get the way they were staring at you out of your mind. It was like they wanted to devour you. You hadn’t missed their longing glances as they walked out of the bar after a few hours either. 

But they were together, and you were much younger. They probably just wanted to make sure you were being safe. 

But then there was the way Agatha had touched your back at the bar. Her thumb stroking against you, never pulling away until she had to. The pet names she never used before. The innuendos from Rio about you aiming to please them and you being a ‘pretty young thing.’ The admission that they talked about you a lot. 

Did they both want you?

God, you hope so, because you want them both too. 

I’d love to! I’m free all week so let me know when would work best for you. 

Heat starts coursing through your veins as you watch the bubbles pop up immediately. Even just the thought of seeing them is enough for a dull ache to grow between your legs. 

How does Tuesday night sound? We know this great place. And then maybe we can have a nightcap at our place? 

It’s like all the air is punched out of your lungs. A nightcap? At their place? Is she hinting at something for real or just being playful? You force yourself to take three deep breaths to calm down and think of a response that won’t relay just how desperate for them you are. 

It’s a date. Seems like you can walk that fine line too. You are more than a little turned on now.

You throw your phone on your bed and go take a shower, hoping to get clean in more ways than one. 

[tiazvni]

immature | suguru geto

words : 1k

warnings : fem!reader, black coded, mating press, dumbification, car sex, belly bulge, slight college!au, exboyfriend!geto, possessive!geto, toxic!geto

“who is he?”

you choke as your ex-boyfriend, suguru geto, acknowledged you for the first time since your breakup last year. he looked so frustrated - eyes dark and muscles tense as he caged you into a secluded corner, his body practically shielding you from the blaring music and dancing crowd of the surrounding frat party so that you could focus solely on him.

“s-suguru,” you sputter, trying your best to ignore your racing heartbeat. “the hell are you talking about?”

“don’t play dumb.” his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you from the bridge of his nose. that stare, the way he towered over you - it brought back some feelings that were all too familiar. “the guy you came here with, who is he?”

it took a second for you to process his words. you realize he’s talking about travis, a guy from your sociology class who had offered to be your date to the party tonight. he had left to grab you both drinks shortly after you arrived, providing suguru an opportunity to make a move the instant he began his search for alcohol.

you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, emphasizing your cleavage beneath your baby blue crop top. you were primed to tell him how desperate he looked right now, but fuck, suguru was standing so close. your senses were overloaded by his scent - eucalyptus with a hint of whiskey reserve, a cologne you bought for him on his last birthday.

and a stark reminder of why you really wish you hadn’t come to this party in the first place.

“um, that’s none of your business,” you match his gaze, priding yourself over your cool, level tone, “so get out of my face, please and thank you.”

suguru raised a sharp brow. “i see you still have that nasty attitude.”

“and what about it?”

he shrugs, the ends of his lips curling in a devilish smirk. “nothing. it just tells me you haven’t been getting fucked properly. what, having trouble finding someone who can handle you?”

you bit the inside of your cheek. travis was the first guy you’ve allowed yourself to go out with since your breakup. he was kind, considerate, and sensitive. a stark contrast from suguru. and having only been on one other date with him, sex was still too early an activity for your…acquaintanceship, if you will.

you try not to squirm where you stood, the beginnings of desire fluttering in your pussy the longer you were under your ex’s scrutiny. “again, that’s none of your business, suguru.”

“why, worried i’ll scare him away?” he chuckles. “‘cause i will.”

you scoff, changing the subject. “i’m not worried, i’m impressed you’re acting this jealous over someone you’re not fucking anymore.”

“i may not be fucking you, but whether you like it or not, you’re still mine,” suguru drawls as he leans closer to you, licking his lips in warning, “and i’m sure your pussy knows it. so you might want to fix that mouth of yours, sweetness.”

you rolled your eyes at his nickname for you, masking the intense wave of arousal flooding your panties under the guise of annoyance, preferring to not give your ex the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence still affected you. no matter how well your pussy responded to his words - traitor.

“god, suguru, you’re so immature! we’re not together anymore, so chill with that possessive shit and leave me alone!”

you move past him, ignoring the electricity pulsing in your fingertips as you pushed against his sturdy bicep, and went to maneuver your way through the frat party in search for your date. but like you were connected by a tether, suguru tugged you back to him, his large hand splayed against the small of your back as he pressed you against his chest.

you gasped, suddenly feeling every rigid muscle hidden behind the fabric of his shirt, and the prominent bulge growing beneath his belt. the thickness of it served as a reminder of all the times suguru had you drooling, incoherent, and twitching from overstimulation.

…why did you break up again?

“last chance, sweetness,” suguru’s hand moves to palm your ass through your jeans, his grip as vicious as his tone, “fix that attitude.”

what happened next was involuntary - like your pussy overrode your brain, spurred on by a mixture of danger and excitement, and chose your response with the hopes of finally being satisfied after months of neglect. your date and his drinks suddenly long forgotten.

“make me.”

_______________________________________________

you ended up in the back of his tesla model x - folded beneath suguru as he dropped his dick deep into your guts, feeding your pussy consistent, heavy strokes while you clawed at his abdomen like a maniac.

he ignored every single one of your cries, ripping orgasm after orgasm from you with his sight hyper-focused on the creamy ring frothing at the base of his dick as he repeatedly buried himself to the hilt.

“absolutely pathetic,” he hissed as you convulsed around him, your body succumbing to yet another orgasm - this one more violent than the last - which he continued to fuck you through, despite your desperate screams for reprieve.

“s-suguru, please! m’sorry!”

it’s been so long since you felt like this. since he fucked you like this. you were on the verge of a euphoric death, the only thing keeping you tethered to this earthly plane being his hold on you - but even then you were hanging by a thread.

“you’re sorry, hm?” suguru licked his lips as he gripped the back of your knees, spreading your legs wider. “what’re you sorry for, sweetness? for testing me? leaving me?”

you were babbling, your mind far too strung to even formulate a proper response. the best you could do was a mixture of please and sorry amidst your hiccuping sobs. suguru leaned forward, slowing his pace to lick away your tears and plant ginger kisses in their wake. an act so sudden, so gentle for someone who just spent the last hour rearranging your insides.

“it’s okay, baby, i forgive you,” he coos, “y’know why?”

he doesn’t wait for your response. instead, he takes one of your shaky hands and moves it between you, positioning your palm over your navel, where the bulge from his dick was the most prominent.

“‘cause nobody can do this but me.”

[felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna]

the way he rejoins the group so effortlessly… 🫠

[chlmtsdoll]

I’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF…

౨ৎ Pairing: Art Donaldson/Tashi Duncan x female reader, Art Donaldson x reader, Art x Tashi

౨ৎ Summary: after being dismissed from your ballet academy and your dreams of being a dancer come crashing down, you decide to take on a new accomplishment — becoming a tennis protege to Tashi and Art.

౨ৎ Word count: 2.4k

౨ৎ Warnings: no use of y/n, inexperienced!reader, age gap (reader in early 20’s) dilf/milf age Art & Tashi, talk of oral (F reviving), fingering, size kink ? corruption (ish), mention of masterbation, brief mention of ED, pinning Art, needy reader, I have literally 0 knowledge of sports//tennis so if everything is inaccurate I’m sorry. I’m simply just a romantic smut addict who loves these characters 🤍

౨ৎ part two | three | four

You wouldn’t have wished that full body shock sensation of that day on your worst enemy. Never in a million years would you think all that discipline, bloody feet and overextension on your body to the point of black outs and collapse would have lead to that moment — the day you got dismissed from your ballet academy.

It had been your dream since a little girl to form a stable career as a traveling ballerina. To dance on European stages and tour around different countries doing what you loved. What set your heart on fire. But when you started to grow out of your bodies potential form, now in your early twenties, the instructors had to make the final decision to cut you from your class. You could no longer dance.

No one told you that after you turned around seventeen you’d no longer be the ‘correct’ body shape to be a ballerina. Not any doctors, not your parents — it was all fine up until your twenty first birthday. But even after you got the news that you were entering a red zone, you starved, and you looked into surgeons that would make you look like the ideal ballerina, but nothing was up to the terms of the academies you had qualified for.

The depression of your once life long dream had taken a complete toll over you for a year until you had to pick yourself up again.

Somewhere at least

You tried out other hobbies that took just your hands, baking, sewing, painting. But none of it made your soul feel like it had a real purpose. You needed to compete — you needed to move, your feet needed to glide quickly but delicately all at once. You needed that power and center of stage. You wanted all eyes on you while you made your body flex with determination and a fire light in your eyes.

And that’s when you started searching for tennis coaches.

You figured with your years worth of forming around good discipline and structure in ballet, tennis was a close second to the kind of agility you needed as an athlete of some sort, you knew you were no pro. Nor maybe ever going to be. But you had to do this, it was now tennis or nothing — and you were too young and too ambitious to give up just yet.

So you found them. Her first. Tashi Donaldson.

You knew of her, being in this Industry especially with being around so many wealthier kinds of sports enthusiasts, her name was gonna come around sometimes — and her husband of course plenty, Art Donaldson.

With some friends of friends, and many emails and more emails you were able to officially meet them after a couple days of searching and applying for tennis coaching nonstop. And when that day finally came, If it weren’t for their outshining talent at what they do for the tennis world, you would of figured they were models or at least assumed they should be.

They were both beautiful in an otherworldly sense — jaws that to you could cut like knives and bodies of literal gods.

You were shorter, and more petite as most ballerinas were, so when Tashi towered over you your first meet, all the confidence and sophistication you had previously practiced for this exact moment before hand, dissolved almost immediately — you were so intimidated by the powerful essence that poured off of her, the way her short waves flowed when she turned and her shirt dresses were left unbuttoned at just the perfect degree. Not too much on display, but just the right amount of cleavage and skin showing to leave her inferior curious for more, yearning for that bit of softness to Tashi that was merely her skin.

Speaking of softness, Art on the other hand had total power to his presence, with his name in grand letters everywhere. A full Olympic gold medalist tennis superstar. You’d think it all would go to his head, but that day you first shook hands with the mesmerizing man, you felt only warmth as he took your delicate into his bigger yet soft hands. You were left to find nothing but gentle kindness behind his eyes — you even noticed a bit of brown in his perfect blue irises.

And from that moment you had already known you’d become completely and utterly obsessed with him.

Yet that was six months ago now. Quickly you moved from your once apartment in New York City that you referred to as your ‘struggling ballerina habitat’ to the Donaldson estate — it was best you’d be as hands on with your tennis as possible, according to Tashi. But nothing could of prepared you for as hands on as it would get.

It had been two weeks into your training that the couple had come to you with a proposal. Art and Tashi would make a deal, that you’d be their play thing. But mainly for Art. His wife stated it would help up his game if he had something young, girlish and sweet to distract him in the meanwhile when he got too caught up in 40 loves, and wanting to do justice to Tashi’s failed tennis career. Sometimes it got all too much, and by that, most of the time. He needed you.

And how did you need him.

Within the first month you and Art had gotten feverishly close. With all the admiring you did of him and how he came to have the sports world in the palm of his hand, his rise to fame and all the while having a wife and daughter. Your smiles and soft blushes when he caressed your cheek — how you poked fun at him for not understanding your pop culture references or slang. It all gave him a nolstagia for his youth that made his heart pump a little faster and his racket hit a little harder on the court.

He was so so beyond sweet with you, helping you with your back hands, his fingers drifting your frame from behind as he positioned your body to his liking, and his grins when your mini tennis skirts (that Tashi ordered you to wear) would rise against his clothed thigh to only reveal the bit of lace panties you had on underneath.

With all the overwhelming feelings you didn’t deny the pleasure of touching yourself at night to the thought of his short strawberry blonde waves between your fingers as his lips made out with your pussy for hours. His tongue making you let out unimaginable noises to then kiss the taste of yourself off his lips.

So you couldn’t have been more down when Tashi made you sign for your little agreement.

You didn’t care if you were nothing but a fuck to get Art’s name permanently on the forums of different Tennis courts across the country. You’d do anything for just a glimpse of him. It was all you had really. Anything for Tashi to say you did well.

Anything for them.

It all had been in return of a place for you to stay as well. With your background coming from being a young ballerina from a big city — you hardly got paid anything manageable in the slightest. So it was nothing for Tashi and Art to shower you in their riches — the best maids, cooks, dietary plans, luxury hotels with new designer sports attire waiting for your arrival on top of your own beautifully decorated room in their home and a promised bright career ahead of you.

You’d just never bother to complain for also getting to receive the kind of affection and intimacy from the two who just needed a little bit of something. You, to make them feel alive again.

Now, you were settled into your silk pajama set that was personally picked out for you by Tashi, in a dusty pink rose color — the color she kept her nails because she mentioned it drove Art crazy. Giggles and soft laughter could be heard from the grand living room as you sat across from Art before bed. Watching his grin behind folded knuckles to his face, you bit your lip softly. “I haven’t been able to do it again since.”

“You can. And you will, you just need a little motivation.” you tittered softly with a smile. Taking in the sight of the man sitting so close yet too far from you.

You two had been watching highlights of some of Arts best matches from over the years.

You loved this. Sitting and listening to him talk about his career for however long he wanted, asking questions about how it felt to be so good at a craft — it made him feel assured telling you, teaching you. His confidence raised by the easy flow of conversation you had to offer. Because that’s what you were for, keeping him in that space of authority to at least something in his life and an escape from the tough business world that had broken down a man like him too many times before. So if you were keeping him up, Tashi was keeping you in.

Motivation

You could practically hear Art murmur the word to himself in his head and he looked at you with a sly grin on his face to which you only blushed and inched closer to his presence just a few pillows away from you.

“Yeah ? You gonna serve just like I showed you on the court tomorrow, ballerina ?”

Your lips immediately perked into a silly wide smile and you giggled like a school girl at the former accusation that was now Arts little nickname for you. Your chin resting in the crease of your elbow shyly as you nodded.

“It’ll be perfect. I promise.”

Art leaned in to leave a soft and delicately placed kiss to your neck. You shivered at the sweet somberness between the two of you, eyes almost fluttering closed as time stopped for a moment — but it was all cut short when Tashi came in from tucking Lily to bed. A demeanor on her face and body language like something had been not so lovely with her at that moment.

In her pajama slip, she had grabbed the remote from the table in front of the two of you and turned the tv off.

“Say goodnight.” She spoke with a soft assertiveness and Art had stood, he left a quick kiss to your cheek that didn’t leave you satisfied but wanting to whine his name to stay. Just for a little longer. But instead you let out a quite “night” as he made his way to Tashi.

Their lips pressed in a deep and slower smooch, you watched as some saliva collected in your mouth and you swallowed almost a little too loudly.

The way Art had softened into her made your stomach churn with want. Tashi had a gentle hand to his cheek as he pecked her one last time before disappearing through the hallway and you stood as well. Tashi’s eyes were locked on yours, and something gave you the notion that you weren’t allowed to leave just yet.

It had gone quite for a second as she focused on you, and you wanted to start picking your nails right there.

“I don’t like to end the night unsure, so do you want to tell me why you were slacking off on the court today ?”

Her words were crisp and landed on you like a paper cut you hadn’t seen coming. Your throat already tightening. You knew the chances of this night ending with her giving you that same kind of kiss she gave Art, was now looking too slim. And you feared for everything.

“I-I just haven’t been feeling too good on my feet lately,” your words already weakening under the woman’s gaze. “I’ve been trying to keep my lounges quick, steady, but the arch is hard to get rid of after-“

“Look. And listen to me.” Your eyes shot up from your feet as Tashi cut you and she began, “You’re not dancing in a recital and you’re not a fucking ballerina.”

She scorned you cold and straight forward. You immediately felt merely pushed back by force at her words.

“I don’t care if you’ll need to spend extra time with your physical therapist, I want you on your feet completely and ready to go tomorrow. This is tennis. That’s your life now, so start playing it because I don’t care for wasting my time, Understood ?”

Tashi knew how the ballerina facade went — the presenting as sweet, innocent, as fragile as a tea cup to the world, yet being built up to be an absolute machine. Being able to withstand even the harshest of hits to the ground or the lashing out of choreographers and instructors till gods end. It’s why she was never soft with you when it came to tennis, just like she wasn’t with Art.

You had nodded rather quickly and you were not going to let the readied tears resting on your ducts fall. You were gonna take the taunt like a big girl and get it together — because the truth is, you had been distracted during practice today.

But not by your poor aching feet, but by the way Art watched your perfectly toned legs as you leaped and glided across that court like some well, ballerina.

How when just the sight of your hair braided in two knots with ribbons on the end just became all too much for him to bare. He pulled you aside, the chill down your spine was maddening as he whispered in your ear the kinds of things you did to him. The way you made him feel. The things you made him want to do to with your little body.

His tender and wondrous fingers had ended up clean beneath your skirt without hesitation. Brushing against the lining of your panties and you were up against Gatorade bottles and protein mix before you could form a real thought. He leaned into you, standing tall there above you. Having to raise to the tips of your toes for him to tuck his fingers were you needed him most. You could see the rare excitement of dominance take over a darker tone in his eyes as his fingers sold into your sweet aching cunt, too tight for more than a finger.

The pulse of your heat and the beat of your heart racing at an embarrassing rate. His strawberry blonde locks brushed your desperate expression with eas that you’d fall apart in his arms at any moment knowing how fragile a young thing like you had been when it was just the two of you and your defenses were at their weakest. “Mmh, Art.” You breathed out in a whine, grabbing his muscular arm rather quickly as you nearly lost balance.

“Say it. Tell me you weren’t thinking about anything other than my hand up your skirt on that court.” He slowed into your ear and you whimpered softly as another finger, long and coated with your wetness entered you at once. “I see right through you. The thoughts that wind up in that innocent little head. So desperate. So willing to give up your cunt to me…. Or Tashi.”

Playing shy and dumb up front, though he had been right.

You would bend over and take the moment they said — You had to fight back strangled moans as you felt yourself being stretched by just his two fingers. It was known to both him and Tashi that you were untouched. With strict ballet schedules, school, and endless nights staying up till two am doing chassé after chassé till your toes were sore, you hardly ever had the time for pleasure. It had been anything if kept hidden and burried deep for a ballerina of your training to be caught up exploring her sexual desires — so as of current Art still hadn’t taken you there fully. But warming you up easily with his glorious mouth and apposing fingers inside of you would start you off heavenly.

“Need it… n-need you.” you huffed as Arts hand slipped under your sports bra to squeeze your breast, quick to rub your sensitive bud under his touch as his lips passed yours. His fingers working at a rough pace at this point that you felt your stomach tighten and he reached a spot you didn’t even know had existed. A high pitched groan had left your lips and he locked with yours to keep you fairly quiet. Then just as you would feel that gracious rush of relief soon to be yours, hitting you like a flow off a mountain — that sly smile of mischief had grown on Arts lips, before pulling his hand out from your skirt, and pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Alright.. good to know.” Is all he uttered before walking away. Walking back out on that court and leaving you there, practically soaked and needing more.

Fuck

You’ve never found yourself so sexually frustrated that it was a different kind of rush you weren’t exactly prepared for. You knew Tashi was the one who loved a good game, and Art came off so easy going to the get up, not needing much for the win — till it was time to touch you or Tashi. Then it had just been all game. All teasing. All begging for more. He craved it, lived for it.

“I asked if you understood.” Tashi’s voice had you coming back to your senses and into the present. Standing in front of the woman already bored of the entire conversation.

You did know that her taking you in at all even with your background being in a completely different kind of wave from her world, was a huge risk to her career and her name. You really were almost too fucking lucky enough to be standing in the home of star athletes like she and Art. To be more intertwined with them than anyone out there. Skin to skin and an intimacy that was almost spiritual.

So with that knowledge, you truly didn’t see it being beneath Tashi to send you back right where you came from. To which that made a burn in your chest.

You couldn’t lose what you had worked so hard for, you couldn’t lose her attention and so much care even if seemed distant. You couldn’t lose Art, not when you were this close to being finally one with him this time. They believed in you enough, and they’d know when you were ready. It’s not like you had any direction before you were chosen by them anyways.

Tashi was completely right, you were no longer just some ballerina trying to make it. You were gonna be theirs to keep — they were gonna love you, and everything you did, every step and hit on that court till it hurt. You were gonna make them proud. You were going to play some good fucking tennis.

You had looked up at Tashi, doe eyed yet tired with a nod, “I understand. Completely.”

A/N: this is the first time I haven’t done full on p in v smut since I wanted to keep it short and sweet bc I plan on turning this fic into a series hopefully :) I rly loved this idea and thought it was a unique spin on the challengers uv — also want to bring in some Patrick action asp so lmk what you think or where it can go from here !! I love feedback it’s sooo appreciated <3 xoxo

[kpopmultifan]

Stray Kids has released the dance practice for “S-Class,” the title track of their 3rd album “★★★★★ (5-STAR)."

[Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify] [YouTube Music]

[cybermindz]

charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary ─┈ · · · charles didn’t get on the podium just for the trophy, he wanted the extra bonus that came with it.

contains ─┈ · · · 18+, dubcon-ish, smut : p in v, unprotected sex, soft-dom!charles, whinysub!reader, exhibitionism, oral & fingering, size kink, mating press!!, lots of kissing, multiple orgasms, usage of pet names (e.g. pretty girl, good girl, baby, mon amour) wc : 3.1k

a/n ─┈ · · · this is a reupload bc my dummy head accidentally deleted my blog (no i don’t wanna talk about it 😞)

꒰ 𖥻masterlist ꒱

“Charles we can’t be doing this here.” you mumbled against your boyfriends lips—who seemed to be in a haste. He currently has you trapped against the wall in his driver’s room, wasting no time in sealing his lips with yours, longing for the taste of you since he saw you enter the paddock to greet him this morning.

“‘S all your fault.” he begins to lightly pepper a trail of wet kisses from the corner of your mouth down to your jaw.

“Mine?” scrunching your eyebrows together in confusion a breathless laugh comes from you, “What did I do?”

It was a genuine question—finding it amusing how his mood shifted from neutral to aroused after watching him change into his race suit. Ah. The way you were eyeing him switch into his red apparel must’ve got him all flustered and the provocative outfit you wore didn’t aid his case in the slightest.

“So pretty, can’t contain myself.”

“Thank you.” you responded meekly, not trusting yourself to utter anything further because of the pathetic noises you may let out. He’s already got you wanting more, aware of what to do to have you in a daze.

You hook your arms around his neck while his own held you in place by your waist. When his face travel down to your throat, Charles’ lips latches onto the smooth soft skin of your neck, licking and sucking gently—a blotch of purple surely forming but it was the least of your concerns with the way he made you feel at the moment.

His teeth begins to lightly graze your plush skin before sinking into it without a warning, hard enough to almost break skin, making a hiss and whimper of sorts tumble out of you. The heavenly sound had blood rushing straight down to his cock. He’d hate to admit the effect that you had on him however, his current actions were enough to speak for itself.

You were divine; so irresistible that his infatuation with you grows more every single day. The way your body molds into his only spurs the sense to fulfill his desires. It clouds his brain, it’s all he can ever think of when he has you like this. So pliable, so sweet and oh was he obsessed.

“Your skirt is too short,” he mumbles with a groan, all the while still assaulting your neck, “Could practically see your panties when you sit down.”

“You shouldn’t have been looking,” you try to tease but your own voice comes out rather weak and shaky upon feeling his breath tickle your skin, goosebumps now rising, “W-we have to stop.”

He completely ignores your feeble declaration—opting to return his lips on yours, greedy and hurried. This time he slips his tongue into your mouth—the muscle dancing along with yours and exploring the wet cavern skillfully. You don’t think you could get enough of it, he was unmistakably a first-class kisser that it almost had your protests die down, almost.

Charles grumbles when you push at his shoulders, your attempts nearly futile because of how he firmly presses further into you. When you manage to pull his face in your hands you look at him for the first time since his ambush on you. The sight before you left you lightheaded; he was panting just as much as you were, lips slightly parted and glistening with your combined spit.

Contemplating your next words, you deliberate if you wanted to continue or put a finish to this, “Charles your race starts in 30 minutes.”

Your statement doesn’t waver him in the slightest, this had you on edge. The thought of being caught with your boyfriends tongue down your throat was not one of the things on your to-do list today. But feeling high off of how his body pins into yours, the scent of musk mixed in with his cologne intoxicating your senses has your head buzzing. The notable anxiousness about the possibility of being discovered vanishes bit by bit along with the little sanity you had left.

“How about this… if you get on that podium today,” speaking again, you decide to try and stop whatever that is occurring because if you don’t, you’re afraid it’ll never end once it begins. And as tempting as it was you really wanted to save yourself the embarrassment if you both were found out. He stares intently with a bit of curiosity as you voice your proposition with careful thought, “You can have me however you want back at the hotel.”

Practically seeing the cogs in his head turn, your heartbeat sets into a rapid pace from anticipation after seeing a smile creep up on his handsome face, dimples digging into his cheeks while his mouth stretches widely.

“Mmmm you’ve got yourself a deal mon amour, but,” his fingers drags down to the hem of your skirt making you stare back at him in surprise, “30 minutes is still enough time for me to feel you up.”

Your knees almost buck from his flirtatious tone, muddled brain not fully registering what he meant until a veiny hand reaches for the band of your underwear, but before he can do anything your hand encircles over his wrist, “Charles we’ll get caught!”

Sucking in a breath and feigning to ponder he shifts himself so his face was mere centimeters from yours, “Well then I guess you’ll just have to keep quiet.”

He was too mischievous about this whole ordeal—aware that he held so much power over you, stronger and determined to get his point across.

There wasn’t anything left that you could do with his persistence so when his digits trail lower and lower, you let him. The pad of his fingers reaches your sensitive bud, circling it delicately. With your breath hitching, your back arches—clothed breasts brushing his chest, the fabrics separating both of your hot skin from touching each-other. He kisses you swiftly to swallow up all your lovely little gasps. Your expressions of disagreement surely forgotten now, it was always so effortless to please you.

Charles acknowledges that his fingers were being soaked by your wetness already, causing a low groan to transpire deep within his chest. A sense of triumph inevitably filled his body whenever he got you to submit to him with a simple ghost of his touch—letting him do whatever he desires in order to please him. Biting your lower lip to halt the sounds that threatened to spill, you braced yourself for his potential actions.

“What is it baby?” he questioned clearly satisfied, rubbing a little harsher to leave you breathless, “Got nothing to say now?”

“M-more, please.”

“That’s my pretty girl.”

Your composure slips away from the delicious friction and attention you got from him, not an ounce of shame shrouded you like it should for giving yourself up so instantaneous but you couldn’t help it. Not with him towering over you, making it seem like you were impossibly smaller than before and not when his rough fingers sent a wave of electricity through your core.

“You’re so wet, barely even had to do anything.” The coarse timbre of his voice was almost condescending, patronizing, to rile you up. Wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue he watches your facial expressions for any discomfort only to find your mouth agape, eyes becoming bleary. So cute.

“Charles.” you whine impatiently, tugging at his wrist.

“Shhh I know, I know.” cooing sweetly at how endearing you were, he just couldn’t get enough and as much as he wants to stare and tease you like this for hours on end, he gives in, recalling the time crunch you both were in.

A shiver racks up your spine in excitement when he lowers himself onto his knees, getting himself leveled face to face with your lower half. Charles doesn’t let another second pass by, heavy hands sliding your panties down in one go and swiftly hiking up one of your legs over a shoulder, the movement authorizes him to catch a glimpse of your glistening cunt.

“God, such a pretty pussy.” he comments aloud, enabling a heat to rise up your body like a plague with embarrassment—a tint of pink adorning your cheeks from seeing how he licks his lips again this time from the view in front of his green irises.

Bunching up your skirt in one hand, he blows a breath onto your cunt, the sensation of the hot air already has you crumbling. He was drooling to have a taste. The tip of his tongue hasn’t even reached you yet and it was nearly unbearable to handle. Your fingers find its way to tangle in his hair—readying yourself, and when he finally licks a stripe up your folds your eyes practically roll back.

“Si bon goût.” (Taste so good.) he savors the flavor that floods his taste buds before diving back into your mouthwatering heat.

A moan of his name falling from you makes him palm at his cock whilst his lips encases over your clit to suck on it. The suction has you pulling at his hair, burying him between your thighs even more. Feeling your fingertips gripping onto his brown locks, nails oh so lightly scratching at his scalp stirs him up additionally. He lets out a groan into your sex, sending vibrations directly onto your bundle of nerves, producing a loud keen from you shortly after.

He draws back briskly, sending you a warning look, “Baby, stay quiet.”

The firmness of his voice causes your heart to skip a beat, you nod your head quickly without saying anything, worried of displeasing him. With your palm over your mouth, you wait expectedly for the return of his tongue, you were left surprised instead as it was replaced with his fingers, the impending sounds from your throat now being muffled.

Charles collects some of your slick with his index finger, dipping the digit into your entrance efficiently. You choked out a breath from how it stretched you out delightfully, always taken aback at how your lithe fingers were nothing compared to his, he consistently reaches places you’ve never even found yourself.

“So tight.” whispering amidst concentration, his face returns to a close proximity so that he can spit directly onto your clit. The saliva dribbles down to your hole assisting him to begin steadily pumping his finger inside of you.

“Oh god,” you remove your hand to display your gratification, “Feels so good Charles.” Though, he was moving way too sluggishly for your liking, “Need more.”

“Yeah?” tilting his head while looking up at you he smiles to himself pridefully, “What do you want amour? Tell me.”

The teasing never fails to have you shrinking within yourself; always self conscious of your timid voice breaking. But you don’t dwell on it too long this time as the minutes you have left together diminishes rapidly.

“Y-your tongue,” you stammer out bashfully solely to earn a raised brow, his facial expression reads that he was awaiting a specific term.

While he pauses expectedly at your words, you close your eyes—biting back at any remarks as your patience was running thin, “Please, Charles.”

“Good girl.”

Delving back in, he pecks your clit before flicking the tip of his tongue up against it. With your eyes screwed shut you quickly cover your mouth again. The only thing being heard in the driver’s room now is him lapping up your wet cunt.

He knew just how much force and where to lick to have you either begging him for more or murmuring out nonsense for him to stop within minutes. The stimulation was already building up remarkably, leaving you to melt just above him.

Charles can feel himself straining in his overalls now, praying that his cock calms down once he was done having his way with you. Though when his eyes scans up to devour your state, drinking in every reaction your face contorts into, he couldn’t handle it—he had to take care of it.

So while adding his middle finger into your soaked arousal, fucking you faster and obscenely flicking his tongue, his free hand palms at his aching cock.

With the stretch of now two of his fingers, the world around you begins to fade out with each ministration. Everything surrounding your sensitive body were nonexistent, just Charles and the blinding pleasure he brings upon you. It was all too much; the lewd wet sounds of him slurping and him humming as he tries to relieve himself at the same time. You weren’t gonna last long like this, especially since your abdomen was getting tighter and tighter, velvet walls securing around his fingers in a vice grip.

“I-hah!… ‘m gonna come.”

The pads of his digits curl into that sweet spongy spot so meticulously, achieving at finding it with no trouble, and with each plunge you were seeing stars in no time. Your drenched pussy squelches and echos around you so filthily and pornographicly, even he puffs out a breath—feeling like he’ll burst at any moment alongside you.

“Come baby.”

On demand, your head is thrown back against the wall and you let go all over his hand, rolling your trembling hips onto his face to get the most out of it. He works you through your spasming climax, fingers moving gradually now as you clamp down on him securely. Your stifled moans were enough for him to reach his own heavenly peak—dousing his briefs in spurts of white cum. He curses in his head hoping that it’s not noticeable and doesn’t seep through his race suit.

Droopy eyelids and strained breaths comes from you as he licks up your release, relishing the taste, legs now quivering in his hold due to the overstimulation. Post-orgasm bliss always made you look so graceful, it drives Charles to want to litter your face in kisses.

Knock Knock Knock.

In your stunned state you almost get whiplash when your head turns toward the noise. Your heart hammers in your chest in a rush of nervousness, frozen in place.

“Charles? Almost done getting ready?” A voice on the other side of the door breaks his trance and you avert your eyes to stare down at him with a frightened appearance. Massaging your thighs to sooth your worries an annoyed sigh departs him whilst giving you one final lick before pulling your panties back up, stabilizing himself onto his feet again.

“Yeah, nearly ready!” he cheekily smiles at you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Be there in a sec!”

Charles jerks your chin to lure you into a deep kiss, having you taste your own essence.

“See you out there yeah?” Adjusting himself promptly, he leaves you in the room to catch your breath in shock, but not without a light smack on your ass first.

His morale was certainly high.

Charles got P2, and he was so damn smug about it during his time up on the podium—staring down at you with a shit-eating grin. A wink was sent your way, innocent to others around you, but the underlying meaning behind it was shared only for the two of you to understand.

Being the one that proposed this agreement had you rethinking your choices. You should’ve known better, Charles wasn’t ever satiated until you were reduced to nothing but a babbling crying mess underneath him.

And since he was in no rush with no one to stop him in this duration, he had all night to finally do the rest of what he wanted.

You were already spent—lying on your back as incoherent pleas leaves your swollen bitten lips from each thrust. The stretch of his cock makes slick from your pussy drool, the bed sheets now stained with your sweat and cum. Brain spinning and becoming mush because you’ve came one too many times tonight that you don’t even bother to keep count.

The incessant whines coming from you only encourages him a substantial amount. You looked absolutely enticing like this; mouth parted in astonishment, breathless moans leaving you every so often when he drives his hips further into you in a harsh manner. He doesn’t let up his relentlessness in the slightest either, no matter how much you whimper and push at him—fucking you like no one ever has is the only thing flooding his own thoughts.

Charles’ night couldn’t get any better, it’s one thing about receiving a shiny trophy for a wonderful accomplishment but getting lost inside of you was a far greater reward that he wishes he can have every time he wins.

“Such a good girl for me.” Mindless praises were spoken any chance Charles can muster up without sounding like he was falling apart himself. He was deranged, you felt like heaven and his gaping eyes never leaves the sight of your tight cunt swallowing him whole. When he feels your walls squeezing around his length for the umpteenth time of the night he hauls both of your legs over his shoulders, allowing him to stuff his cock to the hilt.

“Ah! too big— ‘s too much!” You shriek, small hands shoving at his stomach but incapable of wriggling away from his tight hold on your waist and with your energy depleted long ago it was useless. All you can do is claw at him, lay there, and take it.

Each stroke of his cock pounding into that pleasurable spot lying far inside causes your legs to tremble. He tries to distract the burning knot threatening to snap in your abdomen by pulling you into a searing kiss. The angle was dizzying, the way he was buried into you has your legs straining as they push against your chest. Only making you whine out increasingly by how impossibly deeper he got.

“Feels good, doesn’t it baby?” he smiles into the kiss, aware that you are unable to form a proper sentence without sounding like you were weak.

“Can’t- please! Ngh!—no more,” you shake your head, hanging dangerously close to the edge that it hurts, “Can’t come anymore!”

Sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth to stifle the guttural moan that tries to bully it’s way out of his throat, the head of his length twitches from your struggle to hang on.

He tuts his tongue in disapproval, “Mon amour, I know you can give me another.”

Bouncing off the walls of your shared hotel room were sounds of skin slapping against eachother along with your loud sobs of pleasure. The pace to fuck you dumb doesn’t let up, but when your cunt clamps around him, Charles furrows his brows at how awfully tight you got, slightly constricting him from moving.

“You look so pretty when I fuck you like this,” his thumb searched for your throbbing clit at once, rubbing tight circles in hopes to help you find that blissful release, “C’mon baby you can do it.”

As if we’re instinct, your back bows off the bed, body completely seizing up as your orgasm hits unexpectedly in a silent scream. He halts his pelvis sensing your sex quivering around his cock snugly, focusing on applying more pressure onto your pearl, massaging it more vigorously for your juices to gush all over his stomach and muscular thighs.

“That’s it!” he laughs in awe, “That’s a good fucking girl.”

“S-stop! No more!” You cry out, having enough of the overwhelming euphoria, hands clutching at his wrist to slow down. He seemingly took pity on you, noticing the overstimulation becoming too much so he tones it down touching you now leisurely, alleviating the torture.

You were given some time to come down from the mind breaking high, labored breaths returning back to its original state. When he pulls out his flushed cock from you slowly a shuddering hiss leaves his mouth because of the sensitivity. Still shaking from the aftershocks you set your legs down onto the mattress staying there in absolute bewilderment.

You thought it was over until you detected your weak limbs being maneuvered in little to no difficulty, being brought onto your stomach.

“You didn’t think we were actually done, did you?”

The silence was deafening before his tip nudges at your entrance again. You were foolish for making this deal indeed.

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