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sluttyminghao · 3 days ago

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♡ ︎title: off-limits, on his tongue ♡ ︎pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ ︎genre: smut, fluff ♡ ︎word count: 3.5k ♡ ︎au: brothers best friend ♡ ︎smut warnings: praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft dom seungkwan, possessiveness, almost getting caught ♡ ︎1/13 in the Thirteen Temptations Series ♡ ︎ a/n: I really hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! big thanks to @supi-wupi and @chanranghaeys for beta-ing, and all the feedback!

It wasn’t often you came to visit your brother, mainly because he lived over an hour away. Still, work had graciously given you a week’s leave after spearheading a huge project that succeeded, and you figured you could spend that time near the beach, forgetting everything existed. Because of the short notice, you weren’t able to find any suitable accommodation last minute, so he graciously offered up his guest bedroom, reminding you that he had three other roommates and to just keep out of their way.

The only person you knew in that house besides your brother was Seungkwan. He was a very soft-spoken, well-mannered man whom you had known for several years and got along great with. He was someone you occasionally hung out with outside of your brother, and with every interaction, every hug goodbye, you felt your heart swell. Everything about him was perfect. It was a shame that your brother would be appalled if you confessed to having feelings for him.

As you had grown older, you sometimes noticed Seungkwan staring at you a little too long, his gaze lingering on your exposed legs whenever you wore a bikini on a beach outing, and even once when you were changing and he’d accidentally walked into your room. You could see his cheeks grow red as he stumbled out an apology before turning on his heel quickly and removing himself from the awkward situation. You had to admit, you didn’t mind the staring, and sometimes you even provoked it.

However, when you moved away to college, you saw much less of him. You grew distant, aside from the occasional like or comment on a social media post. It was a long run, between pulling all-nighters for assignments and doing group projects with no effort from your team members, but eventually, you graduated with high honours and found yourself a good job closer to home.

As you pulled into his driveway and turned off your car, you could feel your pulse quicken. There was so much unspoken tension between you and Seungkwan that you wondered if there would be a chance for anything to happen while you were here. You pushed the thought away and grabbed your bags from the back seat before making your way up the steep driveway.

“Oh look, the pest has arrived.” Your brother's ragged voice makes you groan as you flip him off, with him reciprocating the gesture before pulling you into a hug and shutting the door behind you.

You met his roommates after toeing your shoes off at the front door: Joshua, who provided a friendly smile and wave from his perch on the couch. Chan, who offered you slightly burnt chocolate chip cookies with a sheepish smile, and Seungkwan, who offered up a smirk and slight wave that had your heart skip a beat. His gaze dropped to your body, dragging slowly over it like he had done all those years ago, making you flush. He’d dyed his hair darker since the last time you’d seen him, and you have to say, it made him look a hundred times hotter.

After some general small talk with the roommates and your brother, you glanced at the digital clock on the wall near the television, noting it was after 11 pm, the red numbers glaring at you. You realised how late it was and excused yourself to the guest room with a yawn, before trudging up the stairs to the guest room Chan had pointed out earlier. It surprised you with its neatness when you entered, given that four men were living in the house. The bed was already turned out for you, with a blue towel draped over the edge of the end of the bed and a lamp that lit up the room warmly. The best part was that you had your own bathroom, so you didn't have to share with the boys. Win-win.

The warm shower loosened your muscles. As you slipped into an old tank top and pyjama shorts from five years ago, you felt any tension slip from your body. Sliding under the covers, you hoped that the power of sleep would wash over you so you could be rested for your presentation in the morning.

It never came.

You tossed and turned, eyes not even willing to stay shut for more than five minutes. Even listening to and watching your favourite ASMR videos wasn't helping. Surely Seungkwan wasn’t the reason you were unable to sleep, it couldn't be. You had hardly seen him in the last few years. But, you couldn't stop thinking about the way Seungkwan had bore his eyes into you the moment you walked into the house, his eyes burning with something you couldn't quite place, but with the way his gaze dragged slowly over your body, you figured it was his hormones at play.

You sighed in defeat and removed your body from its warm cocoon, blindly making your way to the kitchen that still smelled faintly of burnt cookies. It was a wonder they hadn't burned the place down.

The hallway is dimly lit when you creep into the kitchen for some iced water, the soft hum of the fridge filling the calm silence within the household. You didn’t expect to find him already there, leaning against the counter in a loose hoodie, legs hardly covered by his sleep shorts, and his hair sticking out in all directions from what you presume was a deep sleep.

Seungkwan looks up from his phone, his eyes tracing you lazily. “Can’t sleep either?”

His voice, laced with sleep, deep and slightly crackly, hits a nerve deep inside you that has you pressing your thighs together to try and stop the rush of heat to your core. You hated how much he affected you.

You nod, your heartbeat already skipping due to the conversation. You hadn’t seen much of him this trip, but whenever you had, he’d looked at you just a little too long, and almost too slow. It was nearly like he was trying not to think dirty things about you, and losing that battle every single time.

“I thought you were avoiding me,” you murmur, half joking, setting your glass down.

He smirks and steps closer to you. His voice is lower than it was before, almost feeling like velvet-wrapped sin that has your breath hitching in your throat and your pulse quickening. “I was. Didn’t seem to work too well though.”

You try to laugh it off, hoping that his sentence means what you think it does, but your breath catches when his fingers brush lightly against your arm, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch, which didn't go unnoticed by him.

“You shouldn’t be out here dressed like that,” he says, eyes flicking down to your flimsy tank top and short shorts, a mischievous grin spreading across his smug features. “Do you know what you do to me?”

Your silence betrays your answer.

He steps forward into your space, crowding you against the wall. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

You don’t dare say a word, not when he’s this close to you.

He exhales shakily—you aren't sure if it’s out of nervousness or adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hand slowly slides up your waist, almost like he’s taking his time, while the other braces itself beside your head. “I’ve wanted to hold you since the second you walked into this house.”

His mouth hovers by your ear. “But I’m a gentleman… so I’m gonna ask you as nicely as possible before the lust clouds my brain entirely.”

You gulp and close your eyes as you feel his warm breath beside your ear, your mind obscuring with want as he whispers what you had desperately wanted to hear since you had arrived. “Can I put my hands on you, baby?”

You nod fervently, almost too quickly. He clicks his tongue, a smirk toying on his lips once again.

“Use your words, baby.”

“…Yes.”

And then he devours you.

His mouth is hot and skilled, he’s kissing you like he’s waited years just for this to happen. His hands roam your skin gently at first, then progress rather fast to needy, then straight to possessive. He lifts you onto the counter with a low grunt, parting your trembling legs with practised ease.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of you, eyes peeking up at you through his soft, dark locks. “That for me?”

He kisses up your inner thigh, his teeth grazing sinfully along your skin, his smile wicked and almost daring. “I haven’t even started yet, sweetheart.”

You quiver when he skillfully pulls your shorts and panties to the side, his tongue sliding out to wet his lips as the hunger grows in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but he does dart his eyes back to yours, his pupils completely blown with the lust consuming every inch of his body. It was almost like a silent consent between the both of you, as he moves himself forward to attach his tongue to your cunt like it was his lifeline.

As his tongue finds you, his voice never leaves you, almost like a mantra that he’s repeating and will never get tired of. “That’s it, baby, just like that.”

“God, you taste so sweet.”

“Don’t hide your voice, I wanna hear every sound I pull out of you, even if that means waking up the rest of this house.”

You’re panting and writhing under his wicked tongue, your knuckles turning a dangerous shade of white as you grip the counter like it’ll save you from unravelling. When your back arches and when you cry out his name, he moans into you like it’s his reward. He spends a good amount of time afterwards sucking and licking your sensitive skin and bud, stretching you to a point where your trembles continue despite already orgasming.

Through it all, as you ride out your high, he presses soft kisses to your thighs and whispers:

“You’re never staying in the guest room again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He doesn’t let you walk. Instead, he carries you princess-style with ease, his plush lips ghosting against your cheek as he whispers, “No way I’m letting you wobble around the house after the way you fell apart on my tongue.”

His room is quiet and cool, neat in that almost perfectionist way that had you questioning if men were as messy as you thought. He gently places you on the bed as if you were made of glass. Despite his gentle gestures, your body was still buzzing with the memory of how roughly he had made you cum no more than ten minutes ago.

“I need you to tell me,” he murmurs, leaning down so that he’s kneeling between your thighs again. “Is this just for tonight… or do I get to have you for real?”

You breathe, your words coming out shakier than you had expected them to, “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

And he loses it.

His hoodie is off and tossed onto the floor mere seconds after you give him the green light, revealing his toned arms and a chest you knew was hiding under all that fluff and charm. His kisses now? They’re messy and hungry, and the possessive edge returning as it had earlier, like he's been starved for weeks and you're the first tantalising, addictive bite of sin.

“You have absolutely no idea,” he growls against your throat, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh, “how many times I’ve imagined this body spread out on my bed, how many times I’ve jerked off to the thought of you, how often I’ve fucked my hand to get myself over the edge thinking I was inside of you.”

His hands explore your body like he’s learning by feel: a firm but sensual grip on your hips, a teasing drag of fingers over your overly sensitive breasts, nipples pebbling at the cool touch of his flesh against yours. He takes his time removing your clothes, watching how your body reacts and worshipping every inch of you, even the parts you were insecure about.

When you whimper, your thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction, he chuckles.

“You want my fingers?” he coos, sliding two up your inner thigh, seeming like a challenge, but one you weren’t going to argue with. “You’re dripping, angel. You don’t have to beg for anything, but I do like it when you do.”

You whisper his name, afraid that if you speak any louder, you’ll wake up his roommates or, even worse, your brother.

“Louder.”

“Please, Seungkwan, I need you to touch me.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, lips curving as his fingers slide into you with sinful ease. “You’re so damn tight. So good for me.”

And it only gets hotter from there.

He talks you through every single movement he makes, his voice equally as warm as it was filthy, it makes your eyes roll back so far you think you almost see your brain.

“That’s it, ride my fingers, baby.” “God, look at how you clench around me when I say your name, fuck.” “You wanna cum again? Right here, on my hand? Say it.”

When you do finally cum on his fingers, your body trembling and whimpers passing over your swollen lips, he guides you through your orgasm with a breathless, filthy sweetness that could almost make you cum again from the sultry tone alone:

“Good girl. Just like that. Let it all go, I’ve got you.”

And he doesn’t stop.

You’re gasping and whining when he finally rises above you, his toned frame over your own and his perfect cock pressed to your entrance, throbbing with want. His voice softens once again; it’s still dark and still dripping with desire, but now it’s laced with something just a touch more vulnerable than it had been.

“I don’t just wanna fuck you,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face, the action alone making your heart race and your cheeks burn. “I want to make you feel like no one else ever has.”

He slides himself in slowly, inch by deliciously eye-watering inch, all whilst watching every single twitch of your lips, and every stutter of breath. He groans onto your lips, low and ragged, and only further coiling the rope of heat that had settled deep into your abdomen.

“You fit me so fucking perfectly. Like this was meant to happen.”

He rocks his hips rhythmically into you, deep and steady, while he holds eye contact as he whispers pure sin to you, as if you were the only two left in the universe:

“You take me so well. Every time you squeeze around me, I wanna lose it.” “You’re mine now, right? All mine?” “I don’t care if your brother or the others here find out. Let them. Let the whole house hear who’s making you scream.”

You pull him down into a passionate kiss, and the rhythm of his movements shifts into one that’s more desperate and wet, both of your bodies slick and writhing together in harmony, your moans tangled in kisses, skin slapping obscenely against skin.

In a bold move, he pulls your leg over his waist, hitting deeper inside you than you thought was even possible. You whine at the sudden stretch, almost like you were feeling him inside your cervix. He smirks, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you now.

“There it is. That’s the sound I needed to hear from you, angel.”

You cum again without any warning, white flashing across your eyes and your body arching up so high that your chest hits his, your nails digging into his back, likely leaving crescent-shaped marks that would remain for days. He grits his teeth and moans as he refrains from cumming inside you, breathing through his nose to help slow his orgasm down so you could bask in your orgasm glow.

He felt the way you squeezed around him like a vice, and he knew he couldn't hold back anymore, your body making him succumb within only a few moments. With a grunt, he pulls himself out of you just as he starts to cum, painting your abdomen and thighs with his load, his hips stuttering while he pants your name like a prayer. He collapses beside you, pulling you to his chest and kissing your temple like he didn’t just ruin you completely.

After lying in comfortable silence for a while, he gets up and goes to the other side of his room and comes back with a towel and water bottle. He cleans you up with the surprisingly warm towel, kisses every inch he potentially bruised, looking at some of the marks with concern etched deep into his features. You’re tucked under his arm, wrapped in his scent, the room still humming with leftover heat.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, smiling against his skin. “Better than okay.”

He laughs softly. “Good. Because this isn’t just a one-night thing. Not after that.”

You look up. “No?”

He kisses you again, slower this time, more controlled and fuelled with adoration.

“No, baby. That was the first time I claimed you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to the warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, the clean smell of laundry detergent and soft skin, and the soft, rhythmic thudding of Seungkwan’s heartbeat beneath your cheek.

He’s still half-asleep, hair messy and lips parted as he takes in slow, deep breaths. His arms are locked tightly around your waist, almost like you might disappear if he lets go. When you shift slightly in his grip, trying to slip out of his comfortable bed, his grip tightens on your waist instantly.

“Mmm-mm,” he groans, voice raspy and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not yet. If you leave this bed, I’ll just drag you back.”

You laugh at his possessiveness so early in the morning, quietly and fondly. “You’re clingy in the morning.”

“I just claimed you last night,” he whines into your neck. “Do you think I’m going to be letting you go this soon?”

He rolls over, pulling you with him, so now you’re straddling his hips, your body bare beneath his oversized hoodie, which he must’ve pulled over you sometime in the night. He grins up at you, eyes still half-lidded, laced with adoration, with possibly a hint of heat.

“You look good in my clothes. Kinda makes me want to take them off you again.”

You try to climb off him, or pretend to just to get a reaction from him, but he immediately grabs your hips with both hands, holding you still. His thumbs stroke slow circles into your thighs, emanating a warmth you hadn't realised was there.

“Stay right there,” he says, voice dripping with lust-laced venom. “I want my morning treat.”

You raise an eyebrow, perplexed and intrigued by his bold moves. “Are you always like this when you wake up?”

“No,” he says simply. “Just with you.”

He pulls you a little further forward so that you’re now sitting more on his chest, your body heating up even more with the slight friction of the pull, and also with the way he’s staring at you, like he’s trying to claim you again. He leans up as far as his body will allow, his mouth trailing up your inner thigh before pausing.

“...Unless, you’d rather I start with a kiss up here first?” he teases, his eyes flicking to your lips. “I could behave.”

You grin, licking your lips and letting a hand fall through his messy strands. “I don’t want you to behave.”

He hums. “Good girl.”

Before you realise it, you’ve been flipped again, your back pressing into the warm spot of the bed where Seungkwan had lain just seconds earlier. His hands are caging your head, and the smirk on his lips has only grown, seeing you in this vulnerable position. Just as he starts to slide down the bed, there’s a knock at the bedroom door. Then a voice.

“Hey, you guys seen my charger? I—wait.”

You freeze. It’s your brother.

“Why is your door locked, Seungkwan? What are you hiding in there?”

You scramble off him like you’ve just been lit on fire, cheeks flaming, trying to tug the oversized hoodie lower over your body in hopes of covering yourself, but failing miserably.

Seungkwan, still lying bare and smug on the bed, calls out without missing a beat: “I’m busy! Try again in an hour!”

You mouth “an hour?!” at him, and he just winks. When the footsteps finally leave, he sits up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist again, lips brushing your neck.

“You should just stay in my bed the rest of the weekend.”

You turn to him, heart thudding. “And after that?”

He leans in closer, voice soft but sure. “After that… you’re mine. For good.”

#svthub #sm: masterlist 2025 #thirteen temptations #kpop smut #seventeen smut #seungkwan smut #kpop scenario #kpop fic #seventeen scenario #seventeen fic #seungkwan scenario #seungkwan fic #idol x reader #seventeen x reader #seungkwan x reader #kpop fluff #seventeen fluff #seungkwan fluff

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rafesteddy · 2 days ago

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can we see how twin sister reader and rafe get caught?! and do they care?!

🤭🤭🤭 sorry this took me so long ♥️ thank you so so much for your ask!

��𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓰𝓯’𝓼 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

+18 smut -> when the elevator stalls and the heat between them turns suffocating, months of jealousy and want boil over fast. This does not need to be read with the initial fic

c/w: swearing, drinking, pet names, light choking, semi-public sex, possessiveness, mild degradation, praise, fingering, spanking, language, cheating, mention of masturbation, hair pulling, getting caught, dark!reader, size kink, jealousy, ownership (you're mine; I'm yours etc etc)

𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓸 𝓗𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓵, 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓪 𝓡𝓸𝓸, 𝓜𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓬𝓸

𝓔𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝓒…

His grip on your waist turns brutal, fingers digging into supple skin. Neither of you speaks. The only sound is the ragged drag of both your breaths in the stifling heat—thick air gone heavier with every passing second you're stuck in here.

Your heart beats hard, high in your throat. You tilt your chin, eyes locking with his in the flickering red light. And finally you see it, the end of whatever thread of restraint he’s been holding. A shiver rolls through your spine because you know you’ve finally broken him. And God, you want to be ruined for it.

His mouth crashes into yours. You gasp, lips parting under the brutal force of it, back slamming to the mirrored elevator wall with a thud.

Rafe’s tongue thrusts between your lips without hesitation, messy and deep as his big hands drag up your sides, gripping too tight, knuckles grazing damp flesh.

You clutch him back, fisting handfuls of his wet hair, clawing at the bare skin of his back, grinding your body against him.

Your skin’s burning with want, breasts crushed to his chest as you pant softly; thighs, dripping, panties sticking to swollen, aching flesh as your body pulses for more. His cock grinds thick and throbbing against your sex through the wet cling of your dress and the thin barrier of his shorts.

You moan into his mouth, raw and shameless, and he groans louder in response, a feral sound rumbling deep in his chest against yours. Rafe’s hold slips lower—palming your ass, dragging you taut to him, forcing you to feel every brutal inch of him, thick and straining for you.

You can feel it unraveling—every stolen glance, every breathless touch boiling over.

“Fuck,” he pants against your lips, voice hoarse and broken. “I… fuck. I’ve wanted this—wanted you—too fucking long.”

You yank him closer, bite his bottom lip, listening to his whine for more. Your bodies slide against each other, neither of you slowing, neither of you pretending anymore.

Teeth clash—kisses turn frantic and breathless in the cramped space. Rafe’s hands roam wild like he can’t claim you enough.

You’re past caring—reduced to hunger and heat—just chasing a desperate ache that won’t be satisfied until he’s inside you.

And when his fingers finally find the soaked lace between your thighs, you know you’re his now. And there’s no stopping it.

𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴…

It had been months since the night in Breckenridge. You’d both gone back to college after the holidays. And he had tried to act normal. Tried.

He sat beside your sister like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t fucked you. You knew better. And you had every intention of making him crack. It became a game. One you were winning.

You’d started dating Trevor—a distraction at first, but soon a deliciously petty weapon. Rafe hated him. Hated the tattoos, the cocky grin, the way Trevor would show up late at night when your sister and Rafe were snuggled on the couch watching a movie.

And maybe it wasn’t entirely your fault if a few moans slipped out just loud enough through your paper-thin bedroom wall when the movie was almost over and the volume was low as hell. Maybe you liked knowing that Rafe sat there, fists clenched in the blanket while your sister nuzzled against him completely clueless.

But this trip… Well, this trip was a personal nightmare for him.

Watching you strut around in those barely-there bikinis, skin bronzed and gleaming from hours in the sun, drops still glistening along your stomach as you lounged, stretching just to tease.

Later, sitting across from you at dinner, eyes locked on the way you casually hooked your sun-kissed legs over the seat’s edge, sipping cocktails in curve-hugging dresses that left damn near nothing to the imagination.

They’d taken family photos that afternoon—matching white sundresses your mom insisted on, all flowy and beachy; just ‘perfect for the vacation album’.

It was. On your sister’s anyway—sweet and simple, just like her. But on you, it was something else entirely. The thin gauzy fabric stuck to your skin in the heat, damp from salt air and sweat, going near see-through in places. And beneath it, you’d worn lace panties—just for fun. Just for Rafe, because you knew the dress would cling when you sat wrong, or when you moved just right.

You caught him looking. Again, and again, and again.

Rafe stood stiff beside your sister as the camera clicked, trying to hold it together. But his gaze kept wandering—tracing the damp line where the dress hugged the curve of your ass, where the faint edge of it peeked through.

When you shifted and bent to fix your heels, letting the fabric pull tighter across your thighs, you heard it—his sharp inhale behind you. His deep groan of regret, and you hadn’t even started the night yet.

You’d smiled sweetly at your family, at Rafe, at your perfect, prude sister, before waving them off with a wink. “I’m headed to the club,” you’d said breezily. “You wanna come?” But your sister was already waving you off before you could even get out the last word.

Then you were gone, hips swaying across the lobby toward the pounding bass of the resort’s nightclub as Rafe’s stare burned holes in your back.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The club is thick with heat and bodies and pulsing bass that vibrates straight through your bones.

Your hair sticks damp to the back of your neck, your little dress riding higher with every sway of your hips, but you don’t care.

The crowd tightens around you, heat and bodies pressed close. Someone lets out a low whistle as you turn, thin straps sliding off your shoulders, sweat slicking the soft valley between your breasts.

A frat boy slides in beside you—tall, cocky, gold watch flashing under the lights. He hands you a drink without asking. You take it, flashing him a smile as you clink your glass against his, bringing it up to your lips.

Cool sweetness coats your tongue, the alcohol burning soft and low. You keep dancing as you sip, sloshing a little over the rim. Liquid spills down your chest, slick over bare skin and damp fabric. But you can't bother yourself to care. Just an excuse to take a long, slow shower when you get back to the suite.

You tip the glass again, swaying into him as the beat kicks harder and hotter. His hands find your hips. Your mind is already three steps ahead, picturing Rafe’s jaw when you walk back in dripping wet and smelling like someone else’s cologne.

But then you feel it. A hand wraps tight around your waist from behind; fingers splaying possessively across your stomach.

Rafe…

You smile, slow and wicked as his body presses flush to yours. The grip on your waist tightens, hard enough to make you gasp. You roll your eyes and lean back into him anyway, just to feel how tense he is; how badly he’s holding it together.

Rafe doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The heat of his chest presses against your back, hips flush to yours in the thick crowd. His breath fans hot against your ear; rings digging deliciously into your skin.

Finally he breaks the silence. “I got a room… Just for tonight.” You lift a brow, head tipping to the side, not even bothering to glance his way. “Your sister’s asleep. Stay with me. I’ll take care of everything in the morning. Alright?”

You smirk, tilting your head back just enough to graze his jaw with your mouth. “Mmm...” You hum like you’re considering it. “I’ve heard that one before—” Then you slip out of his grasp and start toward the elevator, hips shifting, a slow show just for him.

You can hear the quick, measured steps of his boat shoes following close behind you, making your heart race. The elevator door slides open, you step in and jab the button for your floor.

Rafe’s right behind you—too close. The door glides shut. He doesn’t say a word as he reaches out and calmly pushes another button and waves his card to the keycard-only floors.

You sigh dramatically, crossing your arms beneath your chest, still sticky from the spilled drinks and sweat-pearled from dancing.

The elevator hums, lifting, tension coiling thick between you, the silence almost blistering in the heat.

Your heart stutters when a sharp screech rips through the silence. The elevator jolts beneath you, lurching hard as the lights above flicker and fade.

“You’re joking,” you huff, stalking toward the dark buttons. You jab your finger at the board, frustration sparking hot in your chest. “I swear you planned this shit—”

“I didn’t…” he drawls, voice low, smug. “But I wasn’t gonna let you go back to the room, princess, so this is a win-win for me.”

“Like hell it is.”

“I got us a room. Just—Just let me take care of you.” He swallows hard, voice roughening. “You want me to. I know you do…”

“I can take care of myself, Rafe. Or maybe I’ll go downstairs and find a boy who actually wants me—”

“Stop.”

“What?” You tilt your head, letting the smile curl slow and wicked. “You know… that boy who’s single. The one who wouldn’t mind having me all to himself—”

“You don’t think I want you? Are you fucking insane?”

Minutes crawl past. The lights stay dim. The car doesn’t move. The heat coils tighter, sweat sliding down your spine.

You press your back to the wall, shifting just enough to pull his stare, slow and deliberate, the thin fabric of your dress clinging tighter to your damp skin.

You’re not trying to be modest about it either. Every breath makes the dress hug tighter. Every slow arch of your back pulls it higher on your hips. You wear it like an invitation—one you know he can’t refuse for much longer.

You flick your gaze to Rafe, catching the exact second his stare falls, the man swallowing thickly as he shifts his stance, muscles flexing beneath bronzed skin.

You tilt your head, voice all silk and heat. “Gettin’ warm in here?” You slide one hand over your collarbone, fingers skimming the curve of your breast through the damp fabric, hearing his breath hitch.

He rips his tee off in one sharp pull and drops it to the floor. His chest gleams with sweat, stomach tight, veins standing out on his forearms where his hands fist at his sides.

You smile slow. He’s done pretending. And in this heat, in this small, locked space, wearing next to nothing you both know where this is about to go—the guilt, the want, the depraved desperation that’s been simmering for months.

Finally, his voice cuts through the silence—low, hoarse, rough at the edges.

“What do you need?”

You blink—slow, deliberate, just to make him sweat.

He takes a careful step forward, then another. “What. Do. You. Need… I’ll do it. Just forgive me.” His gaze locks on yours. “Let me prove I’ll do it right this time.” Your breath catches, but you don’t move. “I’ll end it. I swear to God. Right now. Whatever you want, it's done. I’ll do it. I'm sorry.”

You can feel the heat radiating off his skin as he looks down at you, fingers weaving into yours.

“I was fuckin’ stupid. I thought I could sit next to her and pretend—” His voice breaks on the word. “I know you’ve been teasin’ me. And fuck, baby. I deserved that.” His eyes shine, desperate and hungry as they trail down your body and back up. “Please.”

You tilt your head, smirking just enough to drive the knife in. “You’d do anything, Rafe? You’re sorry?” You purr, voice thick as honey. “You sure about that?”

Rafe swallows hard, jaw flexing. “I’m sure.”

You drag your teeth over your lower lip. “You’ve looked pretty cozy wrapped around my sister every weekend… But you do look even better beggin’, I've gotta say. Almost makes up for you bein’ a bitch—”

His breath shudders out, hand clenching hard. “You’re such a fucking brat… You love making me suffer.”

You grin wide, letting the words drip from your tongue… “I do.”

He laughs once, short and tight as his gaze devours you. “I love that about you.”

You shift your weight, rolling one bare shoulder against the mirror behind you, watching his eyes follow every move. “Yeah,” you hum. “Because you’re mine.” You lean in just enough that your breath fans his cheek, voice dropping lower: "I'm done sharing.”

That does something to him—his eyes darken, nostrils flaring. His next breath comes sharp through his teeth.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Say that again.”

“You’re mine, Rafe. You’ve been mine.” He lets out a sound like he’s about to snap. You drag one finger down his bare chest, watching the muscles flex under your touch. Your lips curl slow and wicked. “You wanna know something else?”

“Yeah.”

You tilt your chin up, eyes glinting. “I’ve touched myself,” you whisper, “every single night thinking about you. About that night.” You scratch your nail a little lower, grazing his stomach. “Tell me, Rafe… What do you think about that?”

He sucks in a harsh breath, body practically vibrating with need. His voice comes out low and greedy, “I think about you spread out for me. Fingers deep. Crying my name.” His gaze pins you to the wall. “I think about replacing those fingers with my cock until you forget every other fucking man but me.”

Your pulse pounds hard and hot, arousal pooling between your thighs. Then, without breaking eye contact, you reach up, sliding one dress strap off your shoulder, then the other. The thin fabric slips down your body in one smooth fall—pooling at your feet.

Rafe’s breath punches out of him; his gaze burning over every inch of your bare skin. You reach for him, and the second your fingers graze his chest he crashes into you.

Mouth on yours, desperate and rough. His hands slam to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, body dragged flush against your naked skin. The kiss is all tongue and teeth and needy sounds, all the months of wanting breaking loose at once. You moan into his mouth, arching against him.

His hands are on your waist, your ass, dragging you closer—closer, until there’s no space left between you.

The lights flicker once, then cut out. Only the dim, red emergency light pulses faintly now—flickering, painting the walls in shadows.

“What’re you gonna do if the elevator starts moving again?”

Rafe pulls back, eyes blown wide, chest heaving. “What do you mean, baby? Take this to the bedroom? I have no fucking plans of stopping.”

Before you can reply, he grabs you by the waist and spins you, fast and rough, until your front hits the cool mirror. Your palms fly out, catching the brass rail lining the wall. Your breath punches out in a gasp, body presses flush to the cold glass.

You barely hear the rustle of fabric before his shorts hit the floor behind you.

Rafe tears your panties, yanked down and torn away in one brutal pull. A gasp bursts from your throat as he lands a sharp slap on your ass.

You lift your gaze, catching his eyes in the reflection. Sweat gleams on his chest, muscles flexing as he fists his cock, guiding it forward.

You watch in a daze as he drags the thick, flushed tip along your silky folds, slow and deliberate.

Then he looks straight into your eyes through the mirror—lips parting in a wicked smile that makes your knees weak. And with one slow, brutal push, he sinks in deep.

Your moan rips through the elevator, raw and desperate, filling the small space with the sound of your need, like some addict finally getting her fix.

“Fuck—” Rafe groans, head dropping between his shoulders. His grip bruises your hips as he buries himself to the hilt, cock stretching you full. “God… Fuck. Holy shit, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

Your lungs burn, chest mashed to the glass, eyes fluttering as he just holds there, thick and pulsing, like he never wants to leave.

Then finally he starts to move. Deep, slow thrusts at first, dragging out every inch, forcing your eyes to roll back as your grip on the rail goes white-knuckled.

“Fuck, Rafe—” You gasp, voice shaking but he’s locked in now—teeth gritted, eyes shifting between yours and the place where you connect, body pounding into yours slow and hard, making sure you feel every fucking second of it.

You watch in the flickering red light as his hips slam forward, over and over, with a ruthless pace. His grip bruises your waist, pulling you back into every thrust like he’s trying to mark you for good.

He groans, voice thick, as his hand glides up your spine to grasp your throat, fingers tightening just enough to catch your breath.

“Look at yourself… All mine. All fucked out for me.”

Your eyes flutter open, lips parted, tits bouncing with every thrust. Rafe towering behind you, body wet with sweat, jaw clenched.

“God, baby,” he pants, “you think I could ever do this to her?” His hand tightens on your hip as he fucks you harder. “You think I could ever fuck her like this?” You shake your head, a whimper falling from your lips as he slams deeper. “No,” he growls. “Only you. Fuckin’ perfect for me—” He shoves your face forward, pressing it into the mirror, your gasps quickly fogging the glass.

It’s cool against your cheek, a stark contrast to the fire in your blood. You choke out another moan, body tightening, thighs trembling.

“Rafe—” you gasp. “I’m close—Fuck. I’m so close—” His fingers twist hard into your hair, jerking you upright with a sharp pull. You cry out, back arching on instinct as his arm clamps around your waist, hauling you tight against his chest.

“Keep your eyes open,” he snarls. “I want you to see exactly how pretty you look when I ruin you.”

He groans, fingers sliding down between your thighs to work you over, circling tight and fast until your legs almost give out beneath you.

“Good girl,” he pants. “That’s it—fuck, that’s it.”

He crushes his mouth to yours—over your shoulder, deep and hungry, swallowing every sound you make as you come undone around him.

Your moan breaks against his lips, loud and raw as your orgasm hits hard—wave after wave crashing through you.

You’re still shaking through the last swell of it when Rafe pulls out—dragging every inch, his cock sheened with your release. You whimper at the loss, walls clenching around nothing as his hands lock around your waist flipping you around fast. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, your thighs wrapping instinctively around his hips, arms looping around his sweaty neck.

And then he’s inside you again—one hard thrust burying himself deep, thick and pulsing, making you cry out into his mouth as he slams your back to the mirror.

Rafe kisses you hard, tongue tangling with yours as his hips pound up into you, your slick skin sliding against his.

“Holy shit,” he moans against your cheek. “I’m gonna… Fuuuck… I’m gonna cum—”

You smile against his mouth, wicked and breathless.

“Cum for me,” you whisper, voice pleading. “Cum in me—” Then you squeeze around him, thighs locking tight, pussy fluttering around his dick, and that’s all it takes.

With a broken, fucked-out moan, Rafe slams deep, body shuddering against yours as he spills in your cunt—thick and hot, filling you until you gasp into his kiss.

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the afterglow; lost in him and this perfect moment.

You barely register the lights flickering back to life. Barely register the soft whir as the elevator lifts upward. You’re too far gone…

Then—ding.

The door glides open.

You don’t look. You’re still kissing him, lost in it until the sudden stillness makes your lashes flutter open.

And there she is. Your sister. Hair wrapped in her heatless curlers, pretty pink pajama set hugging her frame. One hand clutching her pink Stanley cup, the other scrolling her phone aimlessly—no doubt trying to reach her boyfriend.

Her wide, stunned eyes lift from the screen—locking straight on you.

Rafe’s still buried deep inside you, your fingers scratching into his hair, legs wrapped around his hips. Your breath catches and Rafe goes still.

Then without breaking rhythm he looks over his shoulder, locks eyes with her just as the door starts to slide shut—slow and merciless.

You wait as your heart races, wondering what he’ll do. What he’ll say.

Rafe turns back and kisses you again—slow, deep, and owning before pulling back just enough that his lip brush breathlessly against yours.

“She knows now. Alright? Glad she saw. I don’t fuckin’ care. You’re mine.” He lets out a dark, breathless chuckle, voice dropping low and final as you smile against his lips. “Yeah. You’re mine now. And you’re coming upstairs with me—where you fuckin’ belong.”

The elevator hums beneath you, rising toward the penthouse. And when he kisses you, you know he’s never going back.

new tag list

#⋆.°🧸๋ྀི࣭⭑ apres ski #rafe cameron #rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron x me #dark Rafe #cw cheating #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader smut

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chososg1rl · 2 days ago

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lemonade ; p.sh x reader

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pairing: creep!hoon x bimbo!reader

sypnosis: just Sunghoon being obsessed since the moment he saw you.

warnings; creep behavior, suggestive, and not proofread

a/n it’s been a while since I wrote so be nice please! >.< first time writing enha too :3 lmk what you guys think!!

word count: 824

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he wondered if you were really walking around this oblivious or it was some kind of joke. you had just walked in wearing the shortest skirt and tightest shirt that covered basically nothing, completely oblivious to his wandering eyes. maybe you wanted him to look at you.

he knew the second he saw you at the cafe across the street from your apartment that he needed you. the way your hips swayed as you walked in with the biggest smile on your face as you grabbed your Frappuccino covered in caramel.

he didn’t mean to be creepy, but he couldn’t help his curious mind. the second you exited the small cafe, sunghoon grabbed his coat from the chair, tossed his half finished coffee in the trash and followed behind you. atleast you were smart enough to look both ways before crossing the street, well more like skipping across the street. he stayed a safe distance away, careful to make sure you didn’t suspect anything.

it didn’t take him long to find a way to insert himself into your life. he quickly got a job as a repairman for your old apartment building, he knew a thing or two about fixing appliances so it was easy. almost immediately after starting the new job, he got notified to fix something in your apartment. the second he saw the apartment number he fixed his hair and straightened his posture before making his way to your door.

it was in the middle of the hottest summers and your AC has been broken for so long already. the two portable fans did basically nothing to ease the heat, eventually you stripped most of your clothes, leaving you in just a small tank top and maybe the shortest shorts you own. it didn’t even occur to you to cover up a bit when you asked for the newly hired repairman to fix your ac.

you swung open the door almost immediately after hearing two soft knocks, you smiled widely and moved aside to lead the attractive man in.

“lemonade?” you asked after shutting the door behind the man.

“oh sure.” sunghoon muttered, not even trusting himself to say more after he laid his eyes on you. how stupid were you to open the door wearing what you were wearing? what if it was someone other than him who was on the other side of the door? your shirt was practically glued to your skin, your nipples peeking through the white top. he watched as you grabbed the lemonade from the fridge and reached for the glasses in the cabinet, he couldn’t help but shift his eyes to your ass, the way your shorts had ridden up and exposed half of your ass. did you really not notice? maybe it was on purpose.

he quickly got out his tools to fix the air conditioning, he did have a job to do after all. you sipped your lemonade as you watched him fix the conditioning, watching the way his fingers moved and how his bicep flexed. you didn’t even try to hide your staring when he turned around and closed his bag and sunghoon didn’t miss it either.

you quickly snapped out of your daze and handed him his lemonade, sunghoon was quick to accept it and didn’t hesitate to let his fingers linger as they touched yours. he kept eye contact as he took a sip, he hummed and complimented you on the taste but god it tasted awful. almost as if you accidentally put salt rather than sugar.

of course you didn’t notice as you took another sip and smiled back, “it was my first time making it by scratch! it’s my way of saying thank you for fixing it!” you exclaimed.

sunghoon didn’t need anything in return, just seeing you, especially like this, was enough for him. he would’ve done anything for you if you just asked.

“it’s really good, thank you.”

you took another sip after him but spilled some on your chest. you giggled and were quick to grab a napkin to clean it but not before sunghoon basically engraved the whole moment into his brain. the way the sticky lemonade drops fell down from your chin to in between your tits.

all sunghoon wanted to do was pull you in and kiss your lips as he gropes your basically exposed ass. kissing his way down from your neck to licking the god awful lemonade from your boobs then lifting you up on to your counter and just eating you out. he just knew you would taste so good and how good your moans and whimpers would sound.

of course, he’d just have to imagine it instead of actually acting upon it, atleast for now. he knew how fast he would be back, especially after making sure to not fully fix your air conditioning.

soon you’ll need him as much as he needs you, he knows it.

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#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #Sunghoon x reader smut #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen imagines #melodys works🦢

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ce1estiall · 2 days ago

Text

first time

summary uconn!paige x fem!reader you realized you were falling in love with a girl, for the first time. series masterlist | masterlist.

warnings homophobic religious family, mentions of ex-bf, fluff

celestial notes hey guys! sorry this took so long, i have been procrastinating it mostly since my mental health isnt all great. i hope you enjoy!

“i don’t know ‘bout you, but i get butterflies

all these feelings, these trembling hands

like the first time.” first time - twice

the drive home was silent, but your thoughts inside your head were speaking volumes. you were in a state of confusion, still trying to process what just happened at the beach. the sunset was still peeking through as a navy blue sheet took over the sky. the wind was still warm, hitting your skin and making your hair a mess as the windows were rolled down as the radio blasted playing sabrina carpenter.

paige defending you made you overthink, a lot. once you started really analyzing something, your mind could not stop, it was like an endless rollercoaster.

who were those guys? did they get invited by tonya? or did invites get sent after? was he really drunk or trying to hit on me? why did paige help me? why did she call me her girlfriend? why did i get so hot when she called me that?

then one question popped up.

do i like girls?

no i don’t, right?

but the way she called you her girlfriend, the way she protected you, they way she watched you instead of the sunset. you couldn’t stop thinking about how she tried to hit on you, her face turning red when you caught her, her smirking—attempting to play it off. she was soaking in all of your appearance, the way she talked, it made your palms sweat and heart spike up a bit.

you grew up in a very strict and catholic household, attending church every sunday, bible study after school, attending catholic school from kindergarten all the way til your senior year of high school which made you to wear those polo shirts and those skirts that were rolled up so short. your parents viewed homosexuality as a “sin”, as it was “satan trying to take over a pure soul.”

your parents opinions didn’t matter to you. you didn’t view homosexuality as a sin, you viewed it as love. and why could love be such a sin? you had friends that were gay, and you didn’t mind. you always supported them, because you knew deep down if it were you, your family wouldn’t have.

you had a boyfriend in high school, jordan. he was the sweetest soul on this earth. he would always make you happy, from simple kisses to going out with dinners to your family. he loved to show you off, he was so proud to call you his. he made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world, dropping anything he had going to be with you when you would text him how you were feeling—mentally and physically. you loved when he would come over and you would both goof off and laugh for hours over the stupidest things.

when it was time for college decisions, jordan chose ucla, as it was his dream school. you both came to an agreement to end the relationship due to long distance as it would be across the country. yes, it broke you into pieces, but you knew it was for the best. there was no bad blood afterwards, as you both were still mutuals on social media.

you arrived to your apartment, opening the door to the noise of sza playing in the background and the smell of cooked chicken. your roommate, danielle was meal prepping for the week. “hey girl!” she squealed, giving you a hug. “how was it?”

you threw your keys on the counter and sighed, hands on your face. “it was fun, but it was something too.” you were now leaning on the island, palms on the countertop.

“oh no, what happened?” she asked, placing greek yogurt in tupperwares.

you ran your hands through you hair. “welp for 1, tonya invited extra people. and 2, this group of guys tried hitting on me and touching me. it was really fucking creepy.” you didn’t want to tell her about the paige incident just yet, keeping it a secret only for you.

she gave a look of disgust. “ew no fucking thank you! are you safe though? you feel alright?”

“yeah, i’m just gonna head to bed. i’ll see you in the morning dani.” you yawned, heading to your bedroom.

“night! sleep well!” she yelled, hoping you heard her. you plopped on the bed, exhausted. you got a headache from the constant questions you thought of in the car. you scrolled on instagram, seeing all the selfies kyra and tonya posted. it made you smile, knowing you had a good time despite that incident. you turned off your phone and rolled on your back, facing the ceiling while closing your eyes hoping you’d drift off to sleep. ding.

you turned over and glanced at your phone.

paige - notification

you forgot you gave paige your number, immediately freaking out, afraid to open the message. you bite the bullet and opened her text anyway.

paige

hey, did you get home safely? you feel okay?

you

hi paige, i did

i’m okay rn, just still a little creeped out.

paige

you think you’ll be okay through the night?

you

yeah, my roommate is here. i’ll be fine.

paige

alr, i’m just a text away if you need anything.

you turned off you phone and placed it on the night stand, attempting to try to sleep.

an hour later, you insomnia kicked in. you hated these episodes. you would stay up late for multiple hours, then only going asleep for 1 or 2–being exhausted for the rest of the day. you grabbed your phone and went to text paige, like a deep feeling in your gut was telling you to.

you

i can’t sleep and i cant stop thinking about how i didn’t thank you earlier. but really thank you paige, you don’t know how much i appreciate it. sent.

a thought popped in your head that she wouldn’t respond, that she would be exhausted from earlier today and most likely had summer workouts to do this weekend. you continued to scroll, unable to sleep until you got the message banner again.

paige - notification

you opened her message nervously.

paige

i can’t sleep either, but i’m glad i helped you. i’m constantly thinking about you, hoping you’re okay. it’s the least i could do.

thinking about me? you thought.

you

you can’t sleep? why?

paige

a lot actually, i’m overthinking

summer, basketball

you mostly

you

i see someone’s worried about me

i’m not going anywhere p

paige

haha yeah i know

that bikini you wore tho

you looked good

you

aww thank you

paige

it complimented your hair and your skin perfectly, i swear

i couldn’t stop looking at you

you

i like your style, it’s describes you a lot

the way you portray both masculine and feminine styles

paige

ay thanks

i was a tomboy growing up, used to get bullied for it

idc now

you

i bet i wouldn’t have bullied you

you seemed like a badass kid then lol

paige

well i have a stylist actually

i’m not that creative for my outfits lol

you

a stylist?? wow

trying to become the next donatella versace?

paige

shut up

i’m just expanding my taste 🙂‍↕️

if i could, i would just wear oversized tees and sweatpants everyday

but i gotta look presentable for the media ykwim

you

no but yeah i get it

paige

maybe you can help me, you look like you know fashion

you

wow you actually know something about me for once!!

i know a thing or two

paige

i’ve heard a lot about you actually

it’s not bad

you seem like a caring and sweet girl

beauty and brains?

that’s hard to find nowadays

you

did you practice these lines before texting me? who’d you hear this from

paige

god forbid a girl wants to be bold now

kyra and tonya

also one of my friends, kk, showed me your instagram, so don’t say you only know a thing or two, you know A LOT

like that oversized leather blazer with baggy jeans??

woooweee

you did your magic there

you

you really can’t resist me

stalking my insta now👀

i’ll let it slide

instagram: paigebueckers started following you

paige

whoops my finger slipped

you

you’re so corny

paige

yk you love it

you

hmm maybe i do

well im gonna head to sleep now

thanks for texting with me

paige

anytime

good night sleep well princess

dream of me 😉

you

night night 🤍

after the conversation, you smiling as a blush came over to your cheeks. the way she flirted with you, even though it was corny, made you cheeky. teasing her added fuel to the fire, you never wanted the conversation to stop.

were you falling in love with a girl?

you got butterflies when she texted you, and the way she knows about you even though you haven’t met very frequently despite only passing each other on campus or seeing her at her games. it felt like you were falling in love for the first time all over again.

you didn’t care about what your parents would think. you liked girls, you were falling hard for one, developing a crush on paige bueckers, uconn’s biggest basketball star.

you were satisfied, excited even. because you were falling in love with her.

#dallas wings #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn womens basketball #wnba #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader

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zstartrixxx · 15 hours ago

Text

𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝑨 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹. (𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑽𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑼𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑹)

²⁰⁰⁰ˢꜝʳᵉᵐᵐᶦᶜᵏ ˣ ᶠᵉᵐꜝʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: 𝐘𝐄𝐒 | 𝐍𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: On a night of apparent peace, you answer the door of the rented house to a stranger who swears up and down that he also leased the very same property... It's not what you're imagining. 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: TO CELEBRATE OUR 200 BILLION FOLLOWERS IN STYLE (kskskskskksks now seriously: tkysm for the 200 followers, it's been a little over a month since i created this blog with face, heart and courage to post my fanfics without any grand expectations, so everything that's happening is fucked up :)

i’m humbly offering this fic that i affectionately call a 'FUN-FANFICTION'—funnier, silly and way more chaotic than my usual smut-heavy or over-the-top dramatic plots. think of it as your post-chill pill after a long day!!! to everyone reading this: thank you for your time, your love, and for being here. i adore you as much as i adore jackie's chars. <3 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: +18 ADULT CONTENT. vampirism & gore (bite and blood), smut: oral (m!receive) and unproteced penetration, a lil' bite of monsterfucker; weirdo!remmick (he's a really freaky here idk :) lmk if i forget smt ;) 𝐖𝐂: 3.5k for whoever is going to read it, a great read! <3 likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

𝖱𝖤𝖬𝖬𝖨𝖢𝖪 𝖯𝖫𝖠𝖸𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳 | 𝖬𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳

"i wanna to watch the way, you creep across the night sky. you slowly enter, because you know my room; and then you crawl your knees off and then you shake my tomb..." (you've seen the butcher, deftones).

"A monster cannot be loved...

I always believed this with the same fervor as my faith in the saints and gods that surrounded me since childhood, when my parents took me on morning walks to the cemetery to honor those who came before me - from whom all wisdom originated. My great-grandmother's imposing marble mausoleum, with a winged guardian angel crushing a serpent's head, was my favorite place to be. That was a long time ago. My life changed when—"

A noise snapped you out of your trance.

You were surprised—you weren't expecting anyone at that house. You looked at your laptop clock: it was past nine in the evening. You raised your eyes to the window in front of you, facing the neighbor's house, the glass speckled with raindrops. The noise continued—someone was frantically twisting the doorknob, almost desperately, then stopping for a few seconds, making you think you were finally alone again—only for the noises to return, now more intense: fists pounding against the door, a deep voice in the background shouting "Hey!", completely breaking your concentration. You rolled your eyes, slamming your laptop shut, walking the short distance between the kitchen and living room, grabbing your fluffy white robe thrown over the back of the couch, to peer suspiciously through the peephole, trying to see who could be there at this hour on an ordinary Wednesday night in the middle of the rain.

A shadow passed by, obstructing your view. With no light on the porch, the faint glow from the quiet street only revealed outlines and shadows. With your palms flat against the door, you were startled by another violent shake, the deep, affected voice invading through the door crack:

"Hey! Open up! Let me in... Shit!"

You frowned, one hand on the metal doorknob and the other on the key, wondering if it was wise to open it for whoever was outside. You couldn't take another loud knock, long and insistent, turning the key in the lock with a click, twisting the knob, opening the door to find a drenched man just inches away from you. Holding onto the security chain that limited your field of vision, the man's face lit up with relief, arms crossed, raindrops falling from his brown almost black hair as he peered into the house with those dark blue eyes:

"Miss, sorry for the hour, but there must have been a mistake..."

"What mistake?" you asked, genuinely curious, looking him up and down: casual clothes, a black hoodie with the hood down, navy blue jeans, scuffed sneakers, and beside him a military-green camping backpack with what looked like a string instrument case leaning against it. You stared at him again, even more intrigued by the strange visitor, who was rubbing his hands together:

"Look, I don't want to sound weird or anything, miss, but this must be a mix-up! I rented this place for a few days to stay for a couple weeks, but when I got here, I couldn't find the key anywhere and, well... Now seeing you here, I think we've got a problem."

"Are you sure it's this house?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. He widened his eyes, nodding - pulling a worn leather wallet from his pants pocket, fishing out a crumpled piece of paper from between a wad of crumpled bills, extending his slightly trembling hand to you, likely from the cold. Behind him, the rain intensified, splashing onto the poor guy and onto you; the stranger pulled up his hood, casting his striking features into noisy darkness. You shrugged, taking the paper between your fingers, stepping back to smooth it out and read its contents under the indoor light, aloud:

"Blah-blah-blah... Temporary tenant Remmick... Blah-blah-blah, Zero-Six Street... Hmm, authorized stay from today until... Granted permission to occupy hereby..." You looked up at him, startled. The stranger—or rather, Remmick—raised his eyebrows at you:

"Believe me now?"

"Okay, fine... But what do we do?"

"Look, I don't want to be pessimistic, but this town is one of those weird ones where taxis only run at certain times and specific places, and the cabbie who dropped me off said I either walk back or find somewhere to stay... And with this rain, it'd be pretty shitty to leave me out here."

"Are you really sure you want to come in?"; Your voice came out dark, a glint passing through your eyes. An enigmatic little smile appeared at the corner of the man's lips as he lowered his hood again, putting on a pleading expression with puppy-dog eyes:

"Just one night, miss. Just so I don't catch a cold. One night—" He raised an index finger, flashing a convincing little smile: "—one night, and I promise I'll be a ghost to you. You won't even notice I'm here."

Your eyes shifted from him to the unrelenting rain behind him.

You glanced over your shoulder, where that empty house seemed to invite you to take in this poor guy, who wasn't to blame for his bad luck. In the end, you'd both come out ahead, right?

Convinced, you nodded affirmatively, unlatching the chain with a click. Before Remmick could enter, you stopped him once more, a hand extended, fingertips lightly brushing his chest, your eyes piercing into his, which gleamed with a hot-blue intensity as they locked onto you:

"Are you absolutely sure you want to come in?"

"Absolutely, miss. Don't ask me twice..." He shrugged as he stepped past you, carrying his things inside. Before closing the door, you took one last look at that street of houses with only a few lights on, a desolate place almost lost in that small town.

The night would be long.

Remmick didn't shut up for a single second. But it didn't bother you at all—quite the opposite. You were genuinely interested in what he had to say, the stories about failed gigs—while refilling another mug of cheap wine you'd found in the fridge—he told you about the time the band's car broke down in the middle of the highway:

"...I swear to God! There I was with the guys when boom!, the tire blew. We got out, in the middle of absolute nowhere, on one of those dirt roads connecting Nevada to California, you know? And the worst part..." He started laughing at the memory, the two of you sitting on the three-seater couch in the living room, the tube TV tuned to MTV, where nu-metal videos played. Remmick had showered, radiating warmth that smelled like chamomile and mint shampoo. He wore a simple black t-shirt that revealed a tattoo on his right inner bicep, gray sweatpants, barefoot—completely at ease, as if you were old friends reuniting after time apart.

He sipped his wine. You laughed:

"And the worst part was what?" Sitting beside him, you'd taken advantage of his shower time to change into your pajamas: an oversized band t-shirt, black cotton shorts, the robe still covering the more exposed areas. Even so, every now and then you caught a pair of ocean-blue eyes glancing at you, trying to catch a glimpse of skin through the robe's opening or your slightest movement. Remmick wiped a trickle of wine from his chin:

"The worst part was that we stopped right in front of one of those roadside motels. But not just any motel—one of those for couples, you know? And there must've been an orgy or something going on, because it was fucking awkward..."

You burst out laughing, trying to picture the scene.

Remmick joined in, his laugh open and booming, full-bodied. He was slightly drunk and an open book: in less than two music videos and two mugs of wine, he'd already told you why he was here, about trying to go on the road with his little band, but his day job got in the way—so he had to choose between the band or work. And there he was, about to play a series of shows that, according to him, would "change his whole career." He was excited, hopeful, his eyes gleaming as streaks of blood-yellow light reflected in his irises, his teeth glowing under the TV's anise-colored light during pauses, his black hair still shiny with dampness. He was too human to seem like a weirdo... Even if some of his stories sounded far-fetched.

Remmick finished shaking his shoulders, his laughter fading as he turned back to the TV, where the opening chords of Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away) began, Chino Moreno's face flashing on screen as the guitar riff exploded. Remmick started nodding his head slightly, humming along to the first lines. You smiled, half-admiring his spontaneity.

"Is this the kind of music you guys play?" you asked, drawing his attention back to you. Remmick grinned proudly, his eyes never losing their sparkle. He downed the rest of his wine in one gulp, setting the mug on the wooden coffee table cluttered with magazines and knickknacks:

"If I weren't so obvious and were more mysterious, it'd be cooler, huh...?"

"What do you mean?" You narrowed your eyes, mimicking his gesture, setting your own mug aside. Remmick glanced at it, commenting offhand:

"You haven't even touched your wine properly—scared of me?" He laughed, half-sarcastic, leaning back into the couch, his gaze heavy-lidded as you turned more toward him, knees pressed together, pointed in his direction. Your eyes traced the lines of his body—not muscular but defined, a subtle bulge between his legs making your throat go dry... Desire.

Remmick was fucking hot, and you were lucky this misfortune had happened with him.

His eyes were penetrating, and in that sepia light between pale yellow and steely blue, they were beautiful. His face was handsome, well-defined and masculine, his hair looked so soft—not to mention that prominent nose, large and slightly upturned, those full, kissable lips, and hands that, if they knew how to play an instrument, your mind concluded, would know how to touch anyone like no one else. And that desire burned through you—you were starved... for touch.

The man was still focused on the frenetic music, the singer's voice gently penetrating your ears. You answered him, your eyes never leaving his:

"It's not fear, it's just... thirst for something else."

"What... something?" he asked, his breath hitching slightly, watching you with curiosity. You pressed your lips together in a smile, stretching as you turned back to the TV, avoiding his gaze:

"A little something I'm not sure I should mention..." You played coy, wanting to provoke him. Remmick slowly adjusted himself on the couch, caught between curiosity and challenge, his lazy grin widening as he stared at you in that half-light from the kitchen lamp mixing with the TV's glow, replying in a teasing tone:

"You're a bold one, you know...? Don't even know me, don't know if I'm a potential serial killer." You laughed, disbelieving. Biting your lip, you shook your head:

"No, Remmick, I'm not afraid of you at all."

"Well, you should be!" he exclaimed, jumping up to stretch, yawning as he checked the digital clock in the kitchen: "Jesus, it's past midnight. Better hit the sack..." He shot you a look full of expectation: "...you too, 'I'm-Not-Afraid-Of-You-Remmick'!" He laughed mockingly, but with an air of suggestion: "Maybe I'll leave my door open... just in case I need something."

"Fine, Mr... 'You-Should-Be-Afraid-Of-Me'—" You made a face, matching his look, your smile widening further: "—maybe I'll come running under your covers, hide from the Boogeyman."

"Or from me..." He shrugged, already heading for the stairs leading to the bedrooms. You snorted a laugh, watching the next music video start. You threw a dangerous glance at the man already climbing the stairs, step by step, his eyes gleaming as his smile seemed to drip for you.

Calling you.

You looked away, keeping your eyes on the TV, pulsing and vibrating with the possibilities of this surprisingly eventful night. He flirted in a weird little way that got to you more than it should have.

Remmick did wait for you, awake in that narrow guest bed, between the closed window's sound of dripping rain and the noise of his own thoughts, hands resting on his chest as he lay in the dark room, thinking of you. Only a sliver of harsh yellow light came from the hallway through the slightly ajar door. Then he heard your footsteps, heavy, coming up the stairs—you'd taken about an hour to finally come up, whatever you'd been doing downstairs in complete silence—or maybe his thoughts were just too loud for him to notice.

Slowly, you stopped at his door, opening it with a soft creak that made him smirk, a small smile appearing on his lips as the warm light entered with you, leaving you both in that half-light where anything could be hidden. But he could still see your face, soft and relaxed, the way you wet your lips and shed your robe, revealing yourself completely naked to him. Remmick shuddered, his mouth watering with desire, already sitting up in bed as you slowly crawled toward him, across the sheets, the mattress springs squeaking, his heavy breathing louder than the rain outside. Then your voice came out, feline:

"You really waited for me, hmm? Really left your invitation open for me to come into your room..." You stopped in front of him, sitting on his knee, your hands beginning to trail up his shins to his knees. Remmick closed his eyes, lethargic, the wine's effect mixing with the arousal growing inside him. You laughed, climbing higher until you were face-to-face with him:

"Remmick, Remmick... What a pleasure to have you as my guest tonight!" you teased, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his hands touching your skin, sending a shiver through him at the temperature contrast—maybe because you were naked in the cool air while he was in that furnace of a room—parting his lips and closing his eyes, asking for a kiss. But you didn't give him what he wanted. Instead, you licked him, laughing at the face he made, dragging yourself down his torso until you were between his legs:

"Will you let me suck you, Remmy?" The nickname came out casual, intimate, playful. The man didn't hesitate, nodding immediately. With a quick move, you were off the bed, pulling him toward you, kneeling, your sharp nails scratching at the waistband of his sweatpants, stripping him of both pants and white underwear, already wet with pre-cum, taking his soft, warm cock in your hands.

Never breaking eye contact, he eagerly pulled off his shirt in one motion, revealing a cross tattoo on the right side of his waist—a detail that made you even wetter—and you started low, sucking his balls with delight, watching him melt and moan, his hands gripping the mattress tightly as you licked from the base to the red, wet tip, begging for attention, thick and relatively large, stopping right at the head to ask:

"Is this how you like it, Remmy?" Then you took just the glans into your mouth, hearing him gasp heavily, your tongue swirling around it in circles. Remmick almost laughed from pleasure, nodding, one hand already buried in your hair guiding your movements, almost fucking your mouth with thrusts, which you opened and let him enjoy—because his pleasure was yours.

Laughing after he thrust deep, making you gag slightly, pulling back completely soaked and drooling over his cock, he said breathlessly:

"Fuck, woman, like this I'm gonna come too soon... What a magical little mouth!" He caressed your face with one hand as you stood up, pushing him back onto the bed:

"That's because you haven't seen anything yet, Remmy. Haven't seen anything."

He laughed, flirtatious, his hands already claiming your thighs as you, unhurried, positioned yourself over him, never breaking eye contact—Remmick was being very well served, groaning roughly:

"So fucking wet for me, holy shit," his face twisting in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together, lips parting in a broken smile, prominent canines showing. You laughed, grinding aggressively on top of him, grabbing his hands and pinning him down. He groaned beneath you: "So tight, shit, if you keep riding my cock like this I'm gonna come—"

"Then come, Remmy—" Desire was blinding you, your dominant hand going to his throat, watching his Adam's apple rise and fall, his eyes closed, breathing fast, a trail of saliva escaping the corner of his lips.

"Fuck..." Roughly, he thrust up into your pussy. You bent over him, loosening your grip slightly, licking his neck, whispering suggestively:

"Can I suck you here, Remmy?"

"Shit, yes, do whatever you want to me... Just let me come..." he begged, his hands now free from your grip holding your waist, his mouth latching onto the exposed side of your neck, yours doing the same where the arteries pulsed. Remmick felt all his lust spill into harsh thrusts into your pussy, long spurts, while his teeth bit into you.

And yours did the same.

You moaned, strangled by pain and pleasure, blood welling from the bite, flooding your mouth; Remmick let out a guttural cry, eyes closed, feeling that burning frenzy of orgasm, his mouth slack, tasting something... metallic, rancid-sweet, then back to the pungent tang of copper. When he opened his eyes, you were above him, your hands pinning his shoulders to the mattress, your mouth full of blood. Horror crossed his face as the burning intensified, throbbing.

It felt like blades plunging into his skin, deep, lacerating, metallic. Blood, the nauseating smell of it, sticky, and panic filling him as he thrashed beneath you—still inside you—as you laughed, mouth dripping with his blood, staining him further.

"What the fuck!? What kind of monster are you!?" he managed to choke out, trying to break free from your grip, which was stronger than his. When he looked at you again, in that yellow-blue light, the plastic warmth from the hallway mixing with the night's darkness, the rain outside growing heavier, seeming to drown out his screams:

"Well, I did ask you twice if you wanted to come in—" you whispered, putting on an innocent face, bending over his chewed jugular, which gushed bright red blood onto the white sheets and his pale skin, licking up that delicious liquor, spiced with his fear and pleasure: "—and twice you said you did. And you let me suck you, Remmy... Suck you! Oh, poor little thing..." You straightened up again as his eyes lost focus, dull at the edges, lips darkening, his convulsions becoming more random and spaced out.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Remmick was dying as beautifully as he came, that much was certain. His flavor was rich and exquisite on your palate, sharpened by the fear that had shocked him, diluted in intense orgasm. Simply divine.

Monster.

Could a monster be worthy of love?

"Can a monster be loved?" The question was almost rhetorical.

The unhappy little laugh came from deep in your throat, hoarse and almost dry. In the background, a song played on the convertible's radio, wind whipping across your cold faces, sunglasses on despite the night, sharp smiles, your claw-like nails tapping the car door as Remmick drove, humming along to the lyrics:

"Pleased to meet you... Hope you guess my name, oh, yeah! But what's puzzling you... Is the nature of my game, oh, yeah!" He glanced at you over his sunglasses, his blue eyes glinting in that scarlet light just for you. He wore a leather jacket, corpse-pale hands on the wheel, a sly smile, while you admired the creature you'd created that night full of surprises. Remmick began to speak, his voice calm, his expression contemplative:

"Once, I was seduced by a monster, who punished me severely with the pain of death... But after taking what she craved—my blood and my pleasure—she offered me the greatest gift anyone could accept in this miserable life. Even if the hatred for death poorly announced catches up with us, darling, yes, I believe we can love... In our own way. We're punished by our desires, but whatever... In the end, it was worth giving you what you wanted."

"Blood?" you guessed, throwing a look past him, across that huge bridge full of cars, your suitcases and his guitar case in the backseat. Remmick gave a sly, self-satisfied smile, carefully adjusting his leather jacket sleeves, his hair blowing in the wind, exuding sex and bloody fury on this night that, for the two of you, was only beginning:

"No."

He stated, giving you a look, finally removing his sunglasses, revealing himself to you once more, fangs inviting:

"Eternity with a companion."

In the background, the radio's volume gradually rose...

"Tell me, baby, what's my name? Tell me, honey, can you guess my name?"

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: as you've probably noticed, i got drunk on references to the ultimate classics—interview with the vampire—which is why this fic plays fast and loose with the movie's canon. that said: I LOVED writing this because there's something delicious about imagining a human, fragile remmick who—poor bastard—gets wrecked by his own desires.

#[★] zstartrixxx #remmick #remmick fanfic #remmick x reader #remmick x you #remmick smut #remmick imagine #remmick sinners #jack o'connell #jack o'connell fanfic #[⋆♱⋆] zstar fanfics #[🦇] zstar jack o'connell #Spotify

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gracie-eilish · 2 days ago

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roommate billie au [pt 3.5] technically a bonus part bc i got excited about a long idea hehe]

warnings: angst if you tilt your head and squint with your glasses off, spicy innuendo/smut like reaction (no smut)

an: update!! it was @bililyy who inspired me!!! go check out her headcanon/blurb combos!! literally such a creative way to write stories/headcanons!! i hope you don’t mind me taking inspiration🥺🩷

roommate!billie, who texted or called you everyday over the winter break.

roommate!billie, who was scared shitless you’d regret the kiss.

roommate!billie, who still wanted to respect your space to figure out your sexuality. and was prepared to love you regardless of what you decided.

billie: if you ever need someone to talk to about it, you know you can talk to me, but i totally get it if you’d rather talk to someone else.

you: billie ur the only one i wanna talk to about this shit. none of my friends back home are gay, and im not this close with anyone else at school so..

billie: well i’m here whenever you need baby. i’m free right now if you wanna ft?

you: not right now. i’m about to go out with my family, but maybe when i get home??

billie: i’ll be here love.

read 6:12pm

roommate!billie, who could feel it… she was so down bad for you. in just a short six months, you had wrapped billie around your little finger.

roommate!billie, who’s family loved you but was sick of hearing about you day in and day out while billie was still home from school.

“i mean i don’t know how she does it,” finneas closed his eyes and sighed, still poking away at the monitor, working on an song of his own. but listened to his little sister gab anyway.

“she’s just so pretty. she always looks so perfect, like hair and makeup done up, cute little outfits, and her perfume, holy shit her perfume, it’s like a drug. i genuinely feel drugged when she sprays it or walks by me. fuck she’s got me under this little spell of hers..”

“billie, i think you need to tell her how you feel. it’s just gonna eat away at you for the rest of the year if you don’t.” billie sat and thought about it for a second.

“but what if she doesn’t feel the same? or what if she decides she’s not gay? then i just have to live with this angelic siren for the rest of the year, pretending not to fall in love with her??”

roommate!billie, who couldn’t sleep the night before move in for the spring semester. she was so excited to see you.

roommate!billie, who didn’t even hug her family goodbye after lunch. just jumped out of their car, calling a goodbye over her shoulder, practically sprinting up the stairs to your little dorm.

roommate!billie, who felt the world stop when she saw the faintest flush on your cheeks when she opened the door. maybe this could work…

roommate!billie, who engulfed you in the softest, warmest hug known to man. it was slow, tight, her thumbs brushing your clothed skin while she breathed in your scent, intoxicating herself on you. above anything else, she was just happy to see her best friend again.

roommate!billie, who trailed behind you like a puppy all day. messing with you while you both unpacked, trailed around the grocery store behind you, watched as you drove back and forth into town and back.

roommate!billie, who suggested having a cozy, movie night in, since classes didn’t start until monday. so you stocked up on snacks, changed into comfy pjs and got settled.

roommate!billie, who set up her new projector she got for christmas while you were in the shower. hanging up a sheet, and projecting it onto the wall next to your bed. she stacked pillows and blankets onto her bed across the room.

“ta-da!” she exclaimed, as you walked out of the bathroom, clad in pjs and a towel around your hair.

“wait shut the fuck up this is so cute!!! did you get this for christmas!” billie nodded proudly from her perch on the small bed.

you two made small talk as you dried your hair enough so it wouldn’t drip, and billie picked a movie out.

roommate!billie, who felt like her heart may beat out of her chest, when you automatically snuggled into her side, letting her wrap an arm around your waist.

roommate!you, who had never felt so safe or cherished in a relationship.. no, friendship.. or.. situationship?? whatever you two were… before.

roommate!billie, who carefully tested the waters, moving her hand to rest on your hip, right where your hoodie and sweatpants met. letting her hand rest for a few, before letting her hand slip under your hoodie to rest on the bare skin of your hip. her heart fluttered when you didn’t move.. just snuggled your head more into her shoulder.

roommate!you, who tried to mask your gasp when you felt billie’s soft fingers resting on your bare hip. you snuggled your head into her shoulder further, hoping to distract from the way you clenched your thighs together masking the wetness starting to drip between them… you’d never felt that before from a relationship..

roommate!billie, who once again, didn’t move a muscle once you had fallen asleep on her shoulder. simply just turning off the projector screen and moving the snack bags away from the two of you.

roommate!billie, who eventually needed to wake you up, as sleeping on your side like that would give you a crick in your neck.

“baby,” she whispered. “baby, i gotta move you or your gonna hurt your neck.”

you simply whined in protest, still barely awake, but not enjoying the movement to your cozy position.

“i know, so sleepy and grumpy,” she cooed, biting back a laugh. “…you wanna stay here?” she closed her eyes bracing herself for rejection.

you nodded against her shoulder. sitting up slightly so billie could lay back. before billie could even lay still, you had flopped down onto billie’s chest leaving her surprised… but melted quickly after. wrapping an arm around your back, while the other threaded into your hair. you sighed sleepily, nuzzling your nose on her neck.

roommate!billie, who checked her phone real quick. the date, january 18th, screamed at her. it wasn’t even the first day of the semester yet and she was falling even harder.

roommate!you, who for the first time in your life didn’t need a eye mask, or air conditioning, or purple humidifier light to sleep. you slept more peaceful than you ever had before that night.

… and so did billie. leaving a kiss to your forehead before drifting off herself.

#gracie eilish #billie eilish #wlw #fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x you #billie x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish smut #billie x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x smut #billie x y/n #billie x fem reader

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jinwoosungs · 2 days ago

Text

06/09/25; 12:15pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

notes: it’s been a hot minute since i wrote for my favorite monarch, so have a short thirst post to make up for it ♡

warnings: voyeurism

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

{ even though you ain't mine, i promise the way we fight make me honestly feel like we just in love… }

thinking about being in a complicated situationship with sung jinwoo.

you two often danced around the idea of maintaining some semblance of a friendship, with both of you making assumptions about the other. whereas you believe jinwoo held romantic interest for the dancer cha hae-in, he often believed that you had a connection with the ultimate soldier choi jong-in.

needless to say, this miscommunication on both sides lead to a flood of jealousy, with both parties asking questions about the other’s every interaction.

hunter cha has gotten close to you recently, do you enjoy her company?

i see you accepted choi’s dinner invitation, is that going to be your first date with him?

yet despite your mutual jealousy-

neither one of you could see just how much you wanted to be with each other, always believing that the other deserved better than what they could give them.

only the gods above could laugh at how blind you both were when it came to love. if only you could realize how similar you were, you would have figured out that you were jinwoo’s soulmate and vice versa.

to keep an eye on you, jinwoo had long sense merged his soldier within your shadow, able to see your every movement when curiosity struck (which admittedly, happened way too many times to count.)

it had been a long day for him, and he felt exhausted after a particularly hard raid. wishing to see if you had a difficult day as well, jinwoo’s taps into the shadow soldier he assigned to you-

eyes drinking in the sight of your form dressed in an oversized shirt, your hair fanned out beneath you as your hands danced across the soft skin of your inner thighs. immediately, jinwoo was locked in on you, hands clutching at his sheets as his glowing, lilac eyes drinks in your every movement.

the ends of your shirt was seen riding up your skin, revealing your inner thighs and the way you had them parted as you revealed your naked cunt to him. a low hiss of your name comes from jinwoo when his hands immediately go down the front of his sweatpants, gripping at his half hardened cock.

your movements start out slow and sensual, parting the outer lips of your center as your fingers slid into the slick walls of your heat. after sliding a finger in, jinwoo watches as you arch your back against the bed, adding another finger in before making scissoring motions with those two digits.

“hah… jinwoo…”

jinwoo visibly stiffens when he hears you calling out his name, relishing in the way your breathy moan sends a newfound rush of blood down his cock. by now, there was a visible tent seen against the front of his sweats.

his hands already did its best to match the pace of your thrusts, but when you suddenly stopped fingering yourself, jinwoo stopped as well.

“fuck, it’s not enough.” he groans upon hearing your whines, watching as you removed your fingers from your drenched heat before tossing aside your shirt. the sight of your naked body languidly searching for something within your room causes the heat to reach unbearable levels.

keeping his connection to his shadow soldier, he tosses aside his shirt and sweatpants, allowing his boxers fall to the floor as well while he leans back in bed, hand already wrapped around his stiff cock as he waited for your next move.

yet what happens next was enough to shock the shadow monarch to his core-

the sight of you returning to your bed with a familiar blue hoodie and a strap-on placed on one of your oversized pillows.

it was his old hoodie that you were using.

just seconds later, you descended your aching heat down on the strap-on, causing a surge of jealousy to course through jinwoo-

yet still, he keeps his large hand around his cock, violently rutting into it as he matched your pace. each time he saw you bounce your sweet cunt down on the strap-on, jinwoo would imagine it was him you were riding, feeling the pre-cum oozing out of his cockhead as his balls tightened in response to his impending release. and when you slammed down on that damn dildo, it was his cock that he imagined you clenched around, the image enough to make spurts of his own cum spill out of him and into his calloused hands.

breathing heavily, jinwoo sits back in bed, beads of sweat running down his brow as he continues to watch you with a possessive need in his eyes. he relishes in your soft moans and the squelching sounds of your walls finally letting go of the strap-on-

yet when he sees your gaze darkening, meeting with the glowing eyes of his soldier, your breathy laughter sends another wave of need coursing through him.

“jinwoo, instead of watching me… why don’t you join me?”

jinwoo’s eyes darkened considerably in response, standing back to his full height as he snapped his fingers, using his shadow exchange to teleport himself to where you were-

ready to show you what the real deal entails as he swore to thoroughly punish you for making him wait so long.

end notes: whew this was a little longer than i intended to make it, but i’m happy with how it turned out (⺣◡⺣)♡ if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to go back to my new obsession, the latest rune factory game ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#solo leveling smut #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung x you #jinwoo sung x y/n #sung jinwoo #jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo smut #jinwoo sung smut #writings 📖

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dilfstarr · 3 days ago

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Connie x Zoro x black fem reader

꒰𝜗𝜚꒱a/n: ngl, not my best work but oh well. this could be read as a stand alone, but more of them are here.

꒰𝜗𝜚꒱warning: brat-ish!reader, poly relationship[m + f + m], oral[m], mean!zoro, softdom!connie, free use?, raw sex[zont zo it], hair pulling, spanking

The deafening roar of the lawnmower echoed throughout the spacious summer sky. His gloved hands pushed and pulled at the heavy machine to get the perfect vertical lawn stripes.

Connie is completely shirtless—tattoos of all shapes, sizes, and colors decorated his tanned back and chest. His torso glistened from sweat—shining brighter than the setting sun.

His black shorts were loosely fitted around his waist, and hung dangerously low from the weight of his phone in his pocket. He gave the neighborhood a full glimpse of his slightly wavy happy trail and almost what the trail led to. The navy Yankee cap he wore didn’t shade his face what so ever, as it was worn backwards. Taking a pause, he swiped his hand across his forehead to collect dripping sweat.

He’s been out there since you left, slaving under the blazing sun to tidy up the front lawn. Who would’ve thought that grass being overgrown by two centimeters was a violation? Fucking HOA.

He was finishing the last few rows before you pulled into the driveway wildly—almost taking the mailbox down with your wide turns.

Muffled music quits abruptly as you killed the car engine. Your eyes drift towards the glazed donut lookalike—if you weren’t in an acute state of panic, you’d definitely drool.

Aside from him being a whore for the whole world to see, Connie being outside when you arrived home was not on your bingo card. He was supposed to be inside, playing the game—being lazy on his day off.

How the fuck were you supposed to sneak numerous of bags out your car, and past your soldier of a boyfriend? You pondered in your vehicle for a plan B—heart racing erratically with every scenario, and possible outcome flowing throughout your brain.

Con lurked from a distance, rightfully concerned when your car door didn’t open as soon as you parked. Why would you want to sit in that hot ass car in the middle of summer? He watched you from his peripheral, but not for long as the sky turned a darker peach. Having to finish before nightfall, he continued his doings—dragging the ear-splitting cutting machine down the yard.

You pondered for a few more seconds before you settled on a solution; take the bags and race inside. Yes. Taking the opportunity, you put your plan into action.

Looking over one last time to make sure he’s truly not watching, you jump out of the vehicle and make a run for it towards the tail end. You pressed the key fob repeatedly like it would help open the trunk any faster. Three bags were hanging on your arms before plan: try to expeditiously take the mountains of shopping bags inside without your boyfriend seeing went….wrong.

You should’ve known better—you didn’t even hear the lawnmower shut off so how the hell did he get next to you so fast?

His hot body towered over you from behind. Panicking, you try to close the trunk but he prevented it, holding it open by his lonesome. The tote bags that you had in your possession fell lifeless across the concrete—spilling clothes over the driveway.

“Princess, you said you had a hair appointment. The fuck is all this?”

With his hand holding the door open, the other swam through the bags. He tugged at the handles—shifting them around forcefully to get a glimpse at the logos.

“I did have a hair appointment!” Your manicured finger pointed to your head to highlight your new hairstyle.

“Wanna see?”

You took a step backwards and gave a playful twirl—your copper colored boho braids curling flawlessly down your back. You kept your movements stiff as your scalp was still sore, but you hope he got the gist.

The scowl that sculpted his face was priceless—you obviously thought this was a joke. He stood up straight, watching you do that dumbass turn with his hand still kept the trunk open.

“Isn’t it soooo pretty? I think I should’ve gotten it longer. Whatcha think?”

“I think we said not to buy expensive shit without negotiatin’—specially’ splurgin’. But, I could be wrong.”

“…Right.”

The ends of your hair became a distraction—twirling in between your fingers. You couldn’t justify your actions with Con staring a hole through your skull so your eyes avoided his—focusing on the ends of your braids.

“How much did you spend princess?”

His grip on your trunk loosened before his hands fell to his sides. Knowing you didn’t respond well when you were talked to aggressively, his tone was flat. The time you took hesitating, was enough time for him to pick up the forgotten bags off of the driveway—throwing them carelessly back in the car.

You didn’t need another HOA complaint.

The sound of your pet name gave you reassurance—he couldn’t be that mad. Rocking on your heels, you find your voice. You hesitate before replying in a mere whisper, “About….fiiivve..hundred.”

His eyes widened drastically.

“How the hell did you spend five hundred fuckin’ dollars in under four hours? You were told specifically not to stop anywhere—to get your hair done and come straight back home.”

To further emphasize his seriousness, he used his hands to direct his words. His yelling wasn’t as loud as it was in a hushed whisper. You avoided his gaze as he lectured you. Since you were clearly in the wrong, it was best to keep your responses to a minimum.

“…My bad”

“How-” His tone came off harsher than he intended, so he gave himself a deep breath before restarting more calmly. “How did this happen?”

During your hair appointment, Pinterest was your best friend. You browsed throughout the whole session, looking for outfit inspo for your new hairstyle. Knowing how online shopping is with the misleading sizes and overpriced shipping, you decided to stop at the mall to see if you could potentially find dupes. Safe to say you found that and more.

Explaining yourself only made things worse so you didn’t even know why he asked. His face was frozen in annoyance. Whenever they gave you an inch, you couldn’t wait to make it a two miles. That’s why they are hesitant to hand over their card in the first place—especially when you’re unsupervised.

His fingers pitched at the bridge of his sweaty nose while the other one sat comfortably on his hip.

“Y’know I’m gonna tell Pa, right?”

“Huh?”

Your heart dropped to your baby pink painted toenails—eyes growing in panic. Connie was always lenient with you. Letting you go with a warning—at most, a slap on the wrist. It was Zoro that put fear in your heart. He was ruthless, mean, assertive.

“If you can Huh, you can hear.”

“Wha- why? Con, can’t this stay between us? Please?”

You pleaded hysterically for him to consider leaving the third party out—even throwing in the pout that melts his heart. While you tried to bargain, his face twisted in confusion. His hands dropped from his nose—did you just ask why?

“Why? Because you spent five hundred dollars on bullshit. Then you were tryin’ to sneak that shit past me. No, it can’t stay between us princess. Sorry.”

If he was sorry, he would keep it between you two.

“Con…daddy please. I can take it back. I promise.”

“It’s the principle.”

You know you weren’t getting past him when he no longer used your pet name, but your actual name. Your words died down in your throat when you realized he wasn’t changing his mind. Doe eyes found the curly ends of your hair—this time with much more sadness.

He sighed, heavy hands placed your slouched shoulders—trying to reassure you.

“I advise you go upstairs, and start stretchin’. Y’know Pa been annoyed since Sanji came back to work.

The boiling hot water splashed against his tensing muscles. His eyes were closed—chin pointed to the ceiling. Hot liquid splashed along his mile long scar than ran across his chest to his stomach.

Connie stood behind him—lathering up the dark blue loofa with Native eucalyptus mint body wash. He started off at Zoro’s left shoulder, then his right—rubbing tight weighted circles into his skin to wash the day away.

“Nothin’ too hard Pa. Y’know how she gets when you’re too rough.”

Con’s voice was low, but loud enough to hear over the running water. Zoro almost took it into consideration, before giving gave a sarcastic grunt, “Well she should’ve thought of that when she wanted to spend my money on stupid shit.”

Connie was now washing Zo’s full back. White soap suds littered across his back like albino sprinkles. He winced softly from his boyfriend scrubbing a little too hard against his skin.

“She still have all of the receipts. We can jus’ take it back.”

The loofa was handed to Zoro from behind so he could wash his front. Turning around to rinse the soap suds from his back, he faced Connie who had worry written all over his face.

“Nah, She can keep it. She just has to work for it. If she can disobey, she can take the consequences. You have to stop being so soft on her baby. She has you wrapped around her finger.”

When Zoro had his mind made up, it was difficult to persuade him, which led Springer to ultimately give in. Con agreed with a nod.

“Seventy dollars on fuckin’ makeup.” Zoro scoffed and shook his head in disbelief as he reminisced on the list of recipes. “That could’ve been dog food for Chopper. She better be lucky Connie, I swear.”

“Well, when we’re done with her, I bet she’ll think twice before doin’ this shit again.”

Your cheek was planted—no, squashed, against the brick wall you called Zoro’s stomach. His legs were spread wide so you were somewhat comfortable on top of him.

The abandoned cock that’s drenched in your spit throbbed against your hardened nipple and lower neck. Drool seeped out of your gaped lips—pooling onto Zoro’s abs.

“D-daddy! S’too..mu—ch!”

Your moaned words sounded so pathetic against his skin. Zoro gave a hearty laugh, causing your head to lightly dribble on his abdomen.

“Don’t start that whinin’ shit mama, we barely started.”

In an effort to comfort you, his rough hand caressed your head—shifting any braids that could potentially get coated in spit.

You wish you could stop whining, but the raging thrust given to you by Con, made it impossible to please Zoro without taking breaks in between to mewl. Your body rocked forcefully—up and down Zo’s hard abs. Manicured fingers were balled up tightly next Zoro’s hips—not moving an inch, as one of your punishments of the night were no touching.

Your cream colored juices coated Con’s length completely—with a prominent white ring circling at the base. He watched in amazement at how your pussy hugged him every time he pulled back; those kegel exercises are doing you justice.

Once he noticed the insane grip of your tight cunt, he also noticed how much more wet you became overtime—gosh he loved how you get so turned on while giving head.

He made the mistake of looking up—finding your pleading doe eyes already looking at him. You looked confused as your eyebrows were turned upward. Your bottom lip was dripping with saliva, with a thin web connecting to Zoro’s twitching shaft.

Speaking of Zoro, his gaze was also on Connie. His plump bottom lip was wet from it previously being tucked between his teeth. With his eyes low with and filled with lust, he gave a nod of encouragement to his buzzed cut boyfriend.

Oh fuck.

One, two, three throbs to his dick before he slowed down to a stop. He needed some type of distraction to keep him from nutting so soon, and since you were being punished, he had to go to the next best thing.

“I need—fuck! I need a kiss Zo!”

Connie was breathless as he spoke. Beads of sweat formed on the hairline of his green buzzcut. He had a death grip on your hips to prevent you from throwing back ass he couldn’t catch at the moment.

“C’mere then. I can’t move—mama’s on me.”

He gave a quick nod of understanding. The feeling of him pushing his cock all the way in to reach Zoro had your mouth held ajar—speechless at first, before a particularly long deep moan left your lips.

“Fuuuh—Da..ddy! S’deep!”

Your body was now trapped between a rock and a hard place as they made out. From what you heard, the kiss was sloppy. Their tongues swirled around as they explored each other’s mouths. The sound of lips smacking, groaning, and heavy breathing filled the stuffy bedroom. At some point, Connie’s hand tangled in Zoro’s hair and gave it a tug—earning a groan from the sudden pain.

You felt Zo’s hips rock against your chest—becoming needer for some kind of stimulation. Connie stayed parked deep inside you, with his hand gripping your hip, preventing you of any movement. You began to mewl slightly—rocking your hips side to side with the little space you had, to relieve some pressure.

“Mmgghfuuck!”

Airy cussing was moaned into Zoro’s open mouth. Hearing his boyfriend mewl caused his dick to twitch more frequently against your chest.

“You sound so sexy, Con.”

His praise was followed by a quick smack to Con’s ass which led him to push his hips further into you.

“I caaaan’t any—more!”

Your thighs began to shake from the overwhelming pressure of his cock being so deep—Zoro was the first to point it out.

“She’s shakin’ baby. You feel it?” He whispered words were spoken against his boyfriend’s lips.

Connie nodded. “Course I do. S-she’s squeezin’ the fuck outta me.”

Zoro gave a breathless laugh—concluding his kiss with a bite to his boyfriend’s bottom lip as he pulled away.

Your back became cooler and lighter once Connie is no longer putting his weight on it. He pulls out a smidge and you’re are able to catch your breath for a second. In the midst of you collecting yourself, a sharp stinging pain occurs in the middle of your head.

Zoro took a handful of your freshly done braids in a makeshift ponytail to lift your head up. A loud yelp left your lips before you were suddenly muffled by his spit covered dick being lodged back down your throat.

“Juuuuust like t-thaaat mama. Don’t forget about Pa now.”

You moaned around his cock head—sending vibrations to his core, causing him to tense up under you. He whispered cusses into the air as he rolled your head in half circles.

He planted his feet on the bed and picked up the pace—using your wet mouth as his personal fleshlight. Zo’s thrusts were the alternative of his buzz cut boyfriend’s. When Con pulled out, Zoro touched your esophagus—when Zoro pulled out, Con was kissing your cervix.

You were just being used.

And It felt like they were on cloud nine.

At one point, he took his spit soaked dick and slapped it against your twitching tongue—plat plat plat before he’s pushing his way back down your tight warm throat.

“You suck better w-when you know you’re in trouble. Shit!”

His balls slapped tapped against your awaiting tongue as you stuck it out when he throat fucked you. Your hands ran up his thighs before giving it a squeeze. You know he said no touching, but he was so far gone he didn’t even notice.

After Connie’s mini break session, he was back at it like a crack addict. Mirroring his boyfriend, Con’s foot was also planted on the bed. His eyes were low and focused on the beautiful man in front of him. A telepathic conversation happened between the couple, causing both of them to grin. Unbeknownst to you, they had one last trick up their sleeve.

They both pull out of you— then the feeling of Con easing his full length completely inside of you made you cry out once more. Zoro let you have your moment, before pushing himself in the deeps of your throat. They both held their positions and waited.

“She’s s’fuckin tight right now.”

“M’gonna nuuut pa!”

You unintentionally started to squeeze around them simultaneously—not only were you contracting your throat muscles with each gag, but the rhythmic pulsating walls brought them both to higher peaks.

Could you guess who got there first?

ʚɞ

#x black reader #anime x black!reader #aot x black reader #connie springer #connie x black reader #connie smut #aot connie #zoro x black reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece x black!reader

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st4rbwrry · 6 hours ago

Text

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . . . 6.3k. black fem!reader ◞ librarian!armin ◞ lowercase intended ◞ rainstorm / trapped in , protection use ◞ size difference ◞ praise ◞ oral ꒰ f + m. ꒱ ◞ humping the air ◞ prone bone ◞ hair pulling ◞ spanks & choking ◞ armin’s cocky in this ngl ◞ brief throat fucking ◞ fingering ◞ pet names ꒰ cutie , baby , bunny ꒱ . minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3 𓊇ྀི

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . still questioning whether i like the way i wrote this + armin in general. but, this is my first fic coming back from hiatus so im def a lil rusty lolz. this was written purely off a trip to the library and spotting a blonde boy ‘n a kitty. <3 smut linkies > > ( ❤︎. ❤︎. )

rain falls in heavy sheets for hours. trees rock with brutal winds as clouds descend into darkness. a gust of cold wind blows at the heavy doors to the library, aggressively slamming shut behind you along with the chime of a vintage shopkeeper bell. the old man, mister arlert, who usually runs the shop is nowhere to be found. it shouldn't be of surprise given the sudden change of weather; rushing here to return a few books that passed their deadline before your departure back home.

you had a flight to catch early in the afternoon to spend time with your family for fall break. located in the blistering heat of the countryside. having already packed the night before given your dire need of hefty attire, cosmetics, and toiletries — there hadn’t been much to do these past two days. you’ve been cooped up into your apartment off campus after finals ended, cleaning your home, tending to self care, and binging long awaited tv shows.

today the weather was brutal. rain literally beating down on your windows for hours now. there’s been crackles of thunder, but nothing much to worry of. although, your phone did buzz a few good times in reminder of flash flooding and possible tornadoes. it never was anything to be too concerned over given you lived in the east coast. at most, there’d be small floods, nothing exceeding two inches. since it’s currently fall, the weathers migrating to windy and chilly temperatures. tis the season for sweaters and leg warmers.

since you had nothing better to do, you remembered you had to run a quick errand to return a few books you’d borrowed from the local library. there’s a sweet old man who owned the shop; mister arlert. each time he saw you he’d always give the warmest greetings. usually helping you with finding exactly what you needed or even giving suggestions of novels he’s enjoyed during his younger days. most of which he read to his wife.

stepping deeper into the library, it’s completely silent. your clothes are slightly dampened, having to run towards the door to not get entirely soaked. with the books clutched close to your chest, you quietly make yourself known in the presence of whomever was here. you’d made the worst decision of wearing shorts, your thighs wet from the rain, droplets sliding down to your bethan doc martens. luckily, your wore an oversized toffee sweater that reached the backs of your thighs.

“hello?! mister arlert?”

silence.

so, you continue your exploration. maybe mister arlert was in the back dusting off classics. suddenly, you hear a meow coming from the library’s famous cat; fluffles. the chunky orange persian feline with streaks of white on its fluffy coat — hence the name. you smile, clicking your tongue to get his attention as you coed and stumbled closer.

“hii pretty baby. how are you today? i know, the weather’s scary, huh?” cutely, you gasp when his tiny head knocks into your palm delicately for comfort, purring softly.

he’s feeding into your attention to him for two minutes before he’s made the decision to walk away. you follow him blindly, trying to see if anyone will pop up around the large, brown shelves of collections. to your luck, you do find someone.

there’s a man you’ve never seen before, especially here at least. he has his back to you and doesn't seem to notice you, lost in his own world. you watch him for a moment, appreciating his focus and attention to detail as he carefully arranges the books.

first, your eyes fall straight onto his hair, gawking with bloomed irises of pure enchantment. it’s blonde and bright, like the sun almost. ringlets of curls and really fluffy. it surrounded his features like a paper stick of cotton candy. really airy to touch, you’re sure of it. he’s tall, even though he’s standing on a latter organizing novels. he’s got earphones plugged in, blasting incredibly loud because even you could hear the muffled tunes of jazz he hummed along with.

“excuse me?” you manage to announce yourself, lifting your hand to wave in his direction so he’d spot you.

the man blinks slowly, eyes on yours in the prettiest shade of icy blue. it was too dreamy, he looked like a daydream. you could even smell him, too. his cologne like clean linen. laundry on a soft sunday. his lips are full and pink. his body is adorned in chocolate brown cargo pants and a white t-shirt, a plain black button-up draped over, halfway rolled up his forearms.

“oh, sorry. didn’t hear you come in. i’m about to close, actually.”

you didn’t expect him to sound the way he did. his voice has a certain dialect to it, kind of valley-like. the baritone of it is quiet, yet has undertones of raspiness. it’s gentle, he looks the same.

“h-hi, um — is mister arlert here? i know i came pretty late, but i promised him i'd have these books back by today."

“nah, he's not here today. won't be back for a while," he replies calmly. “i’m his grandson. names armin.”

“sorry, i’m ꒰ ❤︎ ꒱. um, is he okay?"

armin takes note of your worry, expression softening slightly. "yeah, well — he's gettin' up there and wasn't feelin' too good. i'm coming from uni for fall break, so i've just been looking over the shop for him."

the news upsets you. "oh, no. i'm sorry to hear that."

armin shrugs nonchalantly. "it's alright. he's a tough old boy, he'll be back soon."

knocking his head fully up, he glances out the window at the pouring rain and lets out a heavy sigh. you’re eyeing the silver chain around his neck and wrist. "man, it's bad out there. did you bike or somethin'? how’d you even make it here?"

"i didn't expect it to get this bad, honestly. i was really adamant on returning this since i'll be home for fall break. but, i drove."

an eyebrow arches. "in this weather? that's reckless."

pursing your lips, you shrug. “kinda. if you say so. weather like this doesn’t scare me.”

“hm.”

you notice the way he . . looks at you. it’s like he’s trying to find what to say to you while also keeping his composure. eyes running up and down your curvy figure. you’ve got this cute crocheted set on that looks handmade. shorts that sit on your hips perfectly and a thin strapped top that barely covers your torso, a teddy bear stitched into the bosom. your knit sweater keeping you warm along with leg warmers. your hair is to your shoulders, half of it pulled back into a pony with a black bow. you’re pretty.

breaking the awkward silence, there’s a crackle of thunder that startles the both of you, booming so loud it causes car alarms to go off. soon after, the lights began to flicker inside the shop, panic settling into you as you run to go check on your car, only to find there had been an inconvenient accident. a tree stump was cracked in half causing it to crash onto a few cars ahead of yours while also blocking the main road to head home, meaning you’d have no way of leaving here tonight until the storm passed.

“fuck,” you slam your hand to your mouth in agony. “ugh, no!"

armin’s not far from behind you as he checks to see the collision. his face scrunches up in irritation, knowing he’d also have no way of leaving here tonight. the floods are picking up, the rain is beating down heavier, and it wouldn’t be safe for either of you to depart right now. thankfully, his car was parked in the back.

“that’s just fuckin’ great,” armin sucks his teeth, placing his palm on the window and dropping his head. “well, that’s not good. looks like we’re both stuck here for the night.”

your distress is fairly evident, forehead in your palm as you groan and ponder, trying your best not to crash out. “i literally can’t. i have a flight in the morning. this is really bad.”

armin’s got a look of sympathy for you. “it's really coming down out there. and that tree looks like it could have damaged the road below it. there's really no way you're getting out of here anytime soon."

that didn’t make you feel any better. though, he tries his best to offer comfort.

“hey, it’s g’na be alright. i understand your worries about your flight, but safety is more important right now. it’s not worth risking your life trying to bypass this issue.”

with a deep sigh to collect your emotions, you nod. you could agree on that. you’re sure your family would prefer if you visited with your body intact. “you’re right. i have to contact my parents. i don’t know, maybe the flights will be delayed?”

“most likely. i doubt they’ll risk it. i’m hoping it’ll clear up in a few hours,” armin shakes his wrist to eye the watch on his wrist. “it’s a little after ten now. guys might come ‘round five.”

“god, what a mess. i'm not usually stranded in a library with a stranger." you meet his gaze, feeling a bit self-conscious. “no offense."

armin chuckles and shakes his head. "yeah, i get it. this isn't exactly a normal situation. but, i’m not too bad company, right?"

"you're eerily calm about this. it kinda frustrates me.

armin smirks, "panic won't change the situation. it's best not to overthink it. plus, the old boy has plenty of natural disaster knick knacks in the back."

"hm.”

armin can see that you're still concerned. he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "sorry if i seem so cavalier about this. i’m just trying not stress you out even more.”

maybe you were being a bit standoffish. it seems like he’s trying his best to make you comfortable. taking a deep breath, you sigh. “it’s okay, i’m sorry. i have a bad habit of being cold when i’m overstimulated.”

when he smiles again, you notice a faint dimple sinking into the crevice of his top cheekbone. he’s super fucking cute. that’s another factor to your stress. you’re trying not to freak out over the fact that you’re stranded here with a man you’ve found yourself newly attracted to. anything could happen in this scenario. it’s straight out of a porno. question is, would you let it get that far?

“it’s cool, i get it,” armin strokes the pad of his thumb across his lower lip, watching you. “c’mon, lemme show you the attic.”

“okay.”

following behind him, you can’t stop your eyes from wandering over his backside. he’s very slim but well built in the right areas, specifically his back, arms, and thighs. you study his walk as he digs one hand in his pocket and safely guides you up a spiral staircase leading to a secret room behind an almost ancient wooden door.

it’s a cute little nook above the library that nearly resembled a loft apartment. there’s rustic brick walls, polished wooden floors, a kitchen, and futon in a living area. boxes upon boxes stocked in different sections filled with precious material.

"wow, this is pretty neat."

armin grins. "yeah, it's a pretty cool little hideaway. the old man's had this place for so long that he's got pretty much everything he needs. even when the power goes out, this place stays cozy."

and for some reason, a few moments after he uttered those words, the power went out. the room is plunged into darkness as the power fails, leaving you and armin in the dim light that filters in through the windows due to the lightning. armin looks a bit surprised, but quickly composes himself.

“well, i guess that was perfect timing," he jokes. "looks like we're gonna test out that old man's preparedness."

hugging yourself tight, you swallow as you hear him pull out a drawer, revealing a few candles.

"help me light these, huh?"

you nod and rush over to help, and as the warm, flickering light from the candles illuminates the room, you can't help but feel a bit more at ease. the cozy atmosphere created by the candlelight gives the space a certain charm. as you finish setting up the candles, placing them in areas of the space that needed it, you notice that armin is already rummaging through the cabinets, looking for something specific. a radio he finds gets cut on to listen in on the news.

"there's a few roads blocked, it seems. hopefully it won't get too bad to where'd people have to evacuate."

solemnly, you nod. "yeah, i hope it doesn't come to that. it’s bad enough that we're stuck here already."

"hey, it's not . . too bad. don't get discouraged. we can make the time past. i've got some blankets and a futon for you. i can give you your space if you're feeling uncomfortable or anything."

"no, i uh . . actually wouldn't mind your company. it'd take my mind off the situation."

armin’s a bit relieved. "alright, that works for me. uh, you can sleep on the futon and i can just crash on the armchair over there."

he walks over to a closet and pulls out a stack of blankets, handing them to you. "here, take these. it can get pretty cold up here, especially at night."

"thank you. i really appreciate it.”

“of course. anything else you need? ima go lock up the shop, feed the cat, then i’ll be back up.”

“you got some food? if i knew this'd happen i wouldn't have left spaghetti on the stove,” you roll your lips inward after giggling.

he finds you incredibly cute. chuckles and nods. "lucky for you, he’s got a stockpile of food in here. let me do some grocery shopping for lunch breaks. i can make some ramen. you like that?" he suggests.

your stomach growls at the thought, both of you hearing it and sharing a wholehearted laugh. "yeah, that'd be awesome actually."

"cool. i’ll be right back.”

you get accustomed to the area you’re in, taking a seat on the sofa and wrapping yourself up into the blankets for warmth. you checked your phone to see if you had any service and possibly contact your parents, but there was no luck. even though the texts sent through green, it was better to send it just in case you’d gain connection once the power cut back on. it didn’t take long for armin to come back up, giving you a sweet smile while he heads towards the fridge to grab some ingredients. thankfully, he had a gas stove to work with.

"talk to me, cutie. i don't want you to be nervous around me."

you pause, a bit taken aback by the pet name. ignoring the way your face just heated up. “okay. what do you w’na talk about?"

"you said you have a flight tomorrow. where to?"

"uh, my parents live across country,” picking at the blanket with your nails, you study his movements. how quickly his wrist moves when cutting vegetables. god. “we're supposed to meet up for a family get together. horse riding, fishing, cook outs . . the usual."

armin listens intently, interested in getting to know you. "you can ride a horse?"

"yeah, i mean . . i don't do it as often anymore, but i'm decent at it. i'm actually more excited about the fishing. i haven't done that in a while."

"what's the biggest thing you've caught?"

"hmm, that's a tough one. there was this pretty big bass i caught when i was sixteen. i remember it took like thirty minutes to reel it in. me and my uncle cooked it up real good with some grits,” you reply, recalling the memory with a smile. "what about you? fan of fishing?"

"not really my hobby. i'll probably sound like a old man myself, but i'm into chess and shit. pottery is a thing of mine as well."

"ooo, pottery. i've always wanted to do something new like that. i’ll push it up in my list of hobbies."

"i could teach you. it's not hard. not really," he smirks, "i'm always looking for another person to play with. tease a lil', make 'em think they're doing good."

this is flirting. has to be. so of course, you play along. "hm, masochist. am i your next victim?"

armin chuckles and cocks an eyebrow at your question. "are you implying something?" he teases, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

"not implying, just prying."

“next topic,” he winks causing you to roll your eyes.

trying to figure out what else to say, you twiddle your manicured fingers in thought. "it's sweet of you to look over the library while mister arlert's gone. most people would let it rot and go about their lives."

“honestly, he’s done a lot for me so it was never g’na be a hesitation when i found out the news. i’ve always kept to myself, even as a kid. i find comfort in books and silence, and i guess that’s why i enjoy spending time here. i get to shut off my brain.”

“you sound pretty reserved. i admire that. it's cute."

the sound of the storm outside provides a soothing background noise along with the warmth from the candles. armin’s finished cooking the ramen. using store bought packs of shin and adding miso paste, kewpie mayo, eggs, scallions, and even some rotisserie chicken. the ramen tastes delicious and makes you feel warm. the conversations you have flows effortlessly and makes time pass as the two of you trade stories and laugh at each other's jokes.

by now, the attraction is mutual. unexpected deep topics were spoken of and the two of you found each other sitting body to body, sharing warmth. armin’s got his arm thrown behind the back of the futon where you sit, thighs spread apart while you sit cutely beside him bundled under the blankets. legs crossed, eyes and scent encompassing his.

as the conversation begins to lull, armin glances towards the window and notices that the storm seems to be dying down. "hey, looks like the rain’s starting to let up," he observes.

you glance over your shoulder, seeing that it’s lighter outside, meaning it’s dawn now and you’ve been chatting for hours. “oh . . yeah, i think i hear the recovery workers.”

the thought of leaving armin in possibility that you won’t see each other for a while feels like a knife to your gut. you’re drawn to him in a way that surprises you. the night is coming to an end, so you find yourself reluctant to say goodbye. you want something more, something passionate.

without realizing it, your gaze drifts to armin’s lips. they look soft and inviting, and the desire to feel them against yours is almost overwhelming. the air between you two suddenly feels charged with eroticism. it’s as if you're both feeling the same pull, the same desperate need to touch more than you were.

"you can't kiss me."

his words.

it seems to break the spell that had enveloped the room. your eyes widen in surprise, expression shifting from desire to confusion.

"what?" you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

"it's just . . if you kiss me, it'll turn into something else."

your expression softens, and a small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "is that a bad thing?"

he makes you anxious, his fingertips tracing the exposed skin of your hips, your body shivering. the room suddenly feels unbearably hot, and your heart is pounding in your chest. armin’s found himself torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to press you against him.

“no, but i'll get addicted and want you more,” he murmurs, tone low and sensual. “don’t think this is the right setting right now. you deserve more.”

“and what's so wrong with wanting more?" you’re moving even closer to him, chest pressing up on his side.

his fingers continue to trace small circles against your skin, armin’s eyes going gray at your words. the proximity makes it difficult for him to think straight, and his desire for you is growing stronger by the second. but, he’s also aware of the danger of giving in to this passion. he could feel his resolve weakening, but he tries to steady himself.

the more you think about it, maybe this wasn’t the appropriate setting nor time. you’ve just met this man and only known him for a couple of hours. a few good conversations were had, he cooked you some top quality ramen even under the circumstances, he’s beautiful . . but, you didn’t want to regret it if something did happen now. so it’d be best to wait.

"you know what, maybe . . this isn't a good idea. you’re right," you manage to stammer out. but your protest is weakening as armin closes what little distance is left between you, breath warm on your neck where his lips go to kiss.

“nah, i’m wrong. fuck it,” he rasps by your ear, opening his mouth fully to latch onto the sensitive area of your neck. his tongue follows in a sloppy kiss, hand coming up to grab you by the neck.

a gasp falters when you feel how hot his hand was on your skin, clutching your neck entirely in his grasp, squeezing your thighs tight and scrunching your face up from pleasure. his kisses are audible, making it known how bad he wants you. your sweater begins to slip off your shoulders as he maneuvers his way down to your chest, groping and inching both of his hands inside of your top to smooth them down towards your sides and reaching your hips briefly. hotly gripping at your flesh.

“armin,” a weak whimper. “we shouldn’t.”

armin catches your wrist the moment you go to stand abruptly, yanking you back towards his chest and towering over you in the process, his gaze darkening as he glares down at you.

"i want your taste on my lips. c’mon, bunny.”

his soft plea sends a jolt through you, fingers entwining with your own before he’s guiding that arm behind your back and resting it on your ass he uses as leverage to press you up against the bulge in his jeans, body bending backwards slightly to give yourself some air to breathe. and when he does this thing, like wind his waist to rub his clothed dick against you with a snarky ‘mhm’ blown out with frustrated air — it sends you into a state of blurriness. his scent envelops your senses, growing weaker in his hold as you stare up at him with need.

“i —” you can’t understand why you're protesting. you knew you wanted him, and it’s clearly mutual. he just scares you, in a really good way. you fear that if you have sex with this man, it wouldn’t be the end of it. and possibly could progress to more.

“say yes so i know you want it, then sit back down.”

it’s clear you both didn’t care about the situation you were in anymore. you just needed it, bad. done playing cat and mouse. swallowing from his switch of demeanor, you slowly nod.

“yes.”

so, you sit. lowering your body while training your eyes to stay on his. you’ve removed your sweater completely, tits exposed to the cool air of the attic as the straps cling to your arms. he thinks you look fucking yummy. he damn near could salivate.

taking his seat back beside you, armin’s stretching his hands to pull your top down to your stomach, grazing your skin passionately but with notions of aggression. he wants to be sweet to you, he’ll try. he’s got his back to the couch again, spreading his thighs to give relief of the blood rushing to his dick. brushing a hand through his hair, you watch in fascination as the follicles bounce back in front of his eyes, his hand coming to unbutton his jeans as he rubs your thighs and catches your soft lips back onto his.

it’s more aggressive this time, swallowing your lips and grazing tongues, noses smushed. you suck on his tongue, grinding in your spot and trailing your hands towards his jeans, helping him tug them down to sit at his thighs. unlatching your mouths, armin grips your chin, thick fingers indenting into your cheeks before giving you another rough kiss, his pupils blown.

“come spit on it,” he rasps.

moaning from the way he spoke, he’s guiding your face down with the hold on your jaw, brows furrowed and pink, plush lips going agape as your dainty hands pulls his cock out of his briefs. when you see it, it makes all the more sense why he acts and talks the way he does.

“mmph,” you moan in awe almost, fitting both of your hands around it as it throbs in your possession. “s’so pretty, ‘min.”

“yeah? . . is it too much for you?”

that makes you grin. “mm-mm,” you deny. “i like it.”

whatever overcomes you the moment he shifts his hips in silent plead and grips at your ponytail tight could only be adored from his view. with both of your palms wrapped around his dick; fat, curved towards his stomach with a tinted pink tip. one hefty vein protruding the underside that you know will feel so good when he slips it in. and cutely, a beauty mark or two. his pubes are neatly trimmed, as blonde as his pretty hair. you’re drooling at this point. and you use that to salivate over his dick, armin practically dragging your head towards his dick and moaning when you do as you were told and coat it with spit.

“yeahh — unh, good girl,” armin hisses, groaning and adjusting himself in his seat as you stroke your hand at the base, leading your way up and over the flushed head.

he doesn’t expect you to do it, you really didn’t have to, but he’s not adamant on stopping you either. the minute you hike yourself up so you’re arching over him, armin’s smoothing his hand over your ass now raised up and whimpering when your mouth engulfs half of his dick with a greedy moan.

“ooh, that’s good baby. yes,” it twitches on your tongue that’s planted at the base as you suckle and drag your lips over either side.

swaying your hips, armin sucks on his bottom lip before landing a hit to your ass, taking a handful of the fat of it after. your throats sinking further, tasting all of him while he’s raising his hips to gently fuck into your mouth. his head gets thrown back, lips parting and releasing gasps when you go to clutch his throat, pushing his head further back so it touches the wall behind, and slurping at his dick sloppily.

“oh my god, gimme that,” armin can’t help the way his eyes roll back into his skull, unable to properly breathe. every time he tries to silence a moan, it’d come out higher pitched than the other, alternating between rough groans and whimpers.

the gags coming from your throat along with the paced bobs of your head makes him clutch your neck to pull you up, smashing his lips on yours and roaming his hands down your thighs. he couldn’t wait any longer. if you feel that good through your mouth, he could only dream of how your pussy felt.

catching your breath, he’s swiping a thumb over your lips to clean you up, your body mindlessly gravitating towards him.

“take these off ,” he whispers, biting his lip as he tugs on your shorts. “gotta taste you. i know it’s fuckin’ wet.”

the quicker you tugged them off, the faster your heart pounded. armin situates himself by laying back on the sofa, politely taking your hand and carefully leading you up to sit on his face. his dick is heavy on his stomach, your thighs hovered over his head and crouching your pussy just enough for him to inhale your essence. it’s glistening in shiny slick, precious bud hiding underneath puffy pillows from his direct view.

“every part of you is gorgeous as fuck,” armin groans, lifting one of his legs to plant on the sofa while he levels his head at just the right spot to catch your clit before you could even utter a word.

he’s kneading the flesh of your ass in his veiny hands, pushing and rocking you on his fat tongue as you listen to the incredulous sound of him slurping. you can’t speak, whimpering while locking your lips beneath your teeth, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair to yank on. he’s sucking you up, all of your flavors, puffy lips enclosing around your achy clit, tasting heavenly on his palate.

"she's such a loud girl.” thwack! it’s a hard hit he lands on your ass while grunting, your stomach rolling inward from the heat that illuminates your entire body. legs shaking and moans breathless. “let me slip my fingers in, huh? make me fit.”

“uh huh, please.”

gyrating your pussy into his mouth, you’re leaning further down till his nose is mushed to your clit, armin giving an audible, nasty open mouthed kiss before rubbing two fingers against his tongue, parting your folds and slowly sinking them in, armin landing a smack on your ass again to feel you pulsate and clench. in the moment, he’s unable to keep his waist from grinding upwards, dick twitching, practically humping the air as he drowns his face in your cunt.

“fuck, your fingers make me feel s’full,” you cry out, scooting so he could dip them deeper. the tingles are rushing to the pit of your stomach, lifting and dropping your ass back onto his fingers. “can i fuck them?”

shit, you really got him spent. “yes, baby. ‘fuckin course you can. such a good baby for asking.”

the way he speaks to you is crucial for your arousal. your moans flow out almost thankfully for that. it’s like he knows exactly what to say to you. you wish you could see his face squished under you, you know in your soul he looked messy, and you fear seeing him like that would make you squirt on the spot. a proper, sweet talking, respectful man completely losing himself in your pussy. it’s hot.

“good girl, biiig stretch.” they’re moving in sync; the speed of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth sucking and swallowing at you. he’s loud when he does it, too. like, whimpering along with you, loud.

“f-fuck, my tummy,” whining, you never stop your hips from swaying. voice breaking and trying your best to keep your mouth from drooling. everything felt so, so good. “anh, armin! ‘m g’na cum.”

“all in my mouth, alright?”

the grip of your pussy around his fingers is maddening. shoving them in and out at a steady pace and purposely thrumming against that spongy spot. you’re grinding on his face while maintaining your clasp on his scalp and the couch. when you cum, armin makes sure he keeps at his rhythm while thrashing his tongue heavily on your bud, holding his breath with you and letting you groan intensely while he follows pursuit.

“fuckk, good bunny. c’mere,” chin doused with your juices, he slams a palm on your ass again and trails his hands to lay you flat on your tummy.

too out of it to think of what he was doing next, you clutch onto the sofa with your cheek flat to the furniture, catching your breath and trying to fix the blur of your sight. you listen to him shuffling to find something in the room, smiling into your arm when you feel his touch on you again, smoothing his big and surprisingly baby soft palms up the back of your thighs leading to your ass.

armin hovers over you, patting the shape of your butt with his dick a few times before you hear him rip a condom with his teeth. he’s bending to kiss at your back, shuddering from the new sensation when it gets sloppier. tongue lolling out to drag up your spine following suite with passionate kisses. his hair is disheveled, tickling at your forehead when he goes to kiss your temple, then your nose, then your lips.

rolling the condom onto his dick, he slaps it at your pussy, biting his lip as he listens to the lewd sound of wetness. then, while taking his time does he begin to slide in, the tip alone making you gasp and grip at the sofa. mouth agape, you unabashedly rock your ass back, impatience settling in.

“m-mmgh,” the rumble in your throat is stammered, his weight on you making it impossible to escape. trapped in, no running, free use for him.

“keep your thighs pressed together,” armin whispers.

the feeling of his skin on yours sets you ablaze. he’s removed all of his garments because he couldn’t bare not having your skin against his. the hairs on his muscular thighs and legs scraping on yours as he works his way deeper in your pussy made your eyes shift to white. the path of his toned abdomen on your backside, the plush of his lips on your temple, and then the hot hand he clutches your throat in as his elbow rests on the sofa makes you fucking dizzy.

breath mingling with yours, sharing moans when his dick is fully in, armin hisses in your ear, sunshine hair drifting upon your sight, nudging just where you begged for him to be. the possession of your throat in his lock gets tighter, carefully subduing your airway while making sure you could still breathe enough. this kind of intimacy wasn’t what you expected from him. not at all.

it starts off slow. handling you with respect for a sum of minutes until he’s stuffing you full, forcing you to take it all. gummy walls suffocating his cock. tendrils stick to your face, hair falling from its perfect bow causing your hair to swarm around your features flawlessly in layers. as if you couldn’t get prettier.

“hu—uh,” armin’s brokenly moaning, sharp hips slamming down onto your plump ass, recoiling from every hit. it starts steady, but every pound transcends rougher, harder.

“oooo, s-shit,” you stammer out, face screwing up before you release a quiet scream. “k-keep your dick right there, baby. you’re on my spot.”

“fuuck, yess. that's where i want it,” he’s grunting in your face, brows furrowed as he gets buried in the pleasure of you, cunt sloppy and squelching from each draw back and dip of his dick.

skin clapping, breaths inordinate, he’s fucking you. it’s almost embarrassing how loud you were, moaning in syllables after every pound and wanting to scramble away from the unutterable pleasure of him, his tone, and body heat. he smells like the cleanest linen with hints of jasmine. a fucking trip.

armin can say the same for you. everything about you overtakes his mind. he loves the way you talk, mannered and sweet. loves the way you smell, like wild strawberries. the fullness of your lips when his are immersed. the twinkle in your feline eyes when you admire him. you’re smart, beautiful, and taste real good. that’s an issue.

“prettiest fuckin' bunny ever,” now he’s licking at the shell of your ear, tracing from there to the underside of your jaw. it’s got you so heated.

there’s that pet name again. it came from a joke he had made during your conversations earlier. how you bounce in your spot when contemplating what to say or just anxious. but now you’re really moving like one. whining and pawing at the furniture while weighing your ass back each time he grinds forward.

“take me, take me — fuck,” you’re full on crying now, skin sticking to each others, sockets full of tears and losing your mobility.

armin’s face is flushed, tinted red nearly. he takes your right arm and throws it over his neck, armin’s mouth finding the peaks of your nipples to eat at greedily, other hand pressing down on your arch for better balance before he’s inching halfway out and striking forcefully. he studies the fall of your jaw, tossing your head back and shuddering out your noises. he’s moaning in your chest, fucking you harder. the way you choke yourself and stare at him makes him lose his mind.

“m’c-cumminggg,” dragging out whines, you raise your knee up higher which his body is planted on, squealing as his balls collide with your clit now that there’s room.

armin doesn’t intentionally do it out of irritation or anything, but he’s quick to toss your arm off of him and take hold of your hips, deepening your arch, forearms popped out with veins bulging and fucking into you with crudeness. forgetting he cared about you momentarily just to cum. still staying where he needed to please you.

“me too, fuck. me too . . fuckk.”

the warmth of him embracing you with strong arms burying your head and cumming first. it’s not long after when you’re frantically squeezing your thighs together and humming gravely, armin humping slow to ease your quivering. neither of you wanted to move. glued in the same position sharing intimate, slow, sloppy kisses. tracing each others skin delicately with the pads of your fingers, smiling like idiots and cracking small jokes.

you’d fallen asleep before him, waking up to a brightly lit attic and the smell of cigarettes, tucked under comfy blankets and rubbing your eyes to find armin sitting at the loveseat manspreading and smoking a quick cigarette — watching you. it was cute, until you began coughing and he immediately apologized. the roads were long cleaned up, debris in mass areas of the city. it was finally time to head home.

you got his number, rescheduled your flight for early next morning, and he promised he’d call you when you’ve safely arrived, excited to hear your voice say his name again.

#armin x reader #armin arlet x reader #armin x you #armin x black reader #armin smut #armin x fem reader #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x you #armin arlert x black reader #armin arlet smut #aot smut #snk smut #snk armin #aot armin #shingeki no kyojin #anime x black!reader #𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠��󠀠 🫙 ˚⊹ 𓊇ྀི

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starset21 · 13 hours ago

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From Paddock to "Prom"

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x NASCAR Driver!Reader

Genre: Slow Burn, Off-Season AU, Romance

Summery: Oscar Piastri never planned to attend the glitzy motorsport charity gala, and he definitely didn’t expect to enjoy it—until he finds himself seated next to a NASCAR driver wearing cowboy boots under her dress. With nothing in common on paper but everything in vibe, they share an awkward two-step, a sweet escape into the rain, and quiet conversations beneath an oak tree. What starts as a miserable evening slowly transforms into a night of surprising connection. Somewhere between missteps and shared smiles, the off-season suddenly feels less lonely—and full of new possibilities.

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.

A/N: I'm just gonna drop this and run-

Oscar Piastri tugged at his collar for the sixth time in as many minutes. The tuxedo fit but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. The ballroom glittered with lights and polished smiles, the kind of place that made his skin crawl with formality. He hadn’t wanted to come. He was definitely not the gala type. But the off-season was long, and someone from PR had given him a speech about “visibility” and “brand” and something-something-charity, and now here he was. Alone at a round table, nursing a glass of water and contemplating the nearest exit.

And then she walked in.

Not with the elegance of a movie star or the icy confidence of a sponsor darling—but with a casual swagger that reminded him of pit lane. Her dress was sleek, shimmering under the chandeliers—but beneath the hem, he caught a flash of—were those cowboy boots?

She sat down beside him with a grin, sliding into the seat like she owned the room. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”

Oscar blinked. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s also been looking for the fire escape since she got here.”

He laughed before he meant to. Her accent was warm, and the tone confident in a way that didn’t feel performative.

“Y/N. NASCAR. Short tracks, left turns, the occasional fistfight.”

He shook her hand. “Oscar. F1. Chicanes, tire strategy, and uncomfortable tuxedos.”

They clicked faster than either expected.

Over dinner, they traded paddock horror stories, swapped notes on their most dramatic crashes, and debated the merits of different fuel strategies. She teased him for his perfectly combed hair; he asked if she always wore boots under ball gowns.

The music started—a slow, twangy country crossover ballad that made him wince.

“I have no idea how to dance to this,” he muttered.

“Oh, you poor thing.” She stood and offered her hand. “Come on. I’ll teach you to two-step.”

He protested mildly, but she dragged him to the dance floor anyway.

It was a disaster.

His timing was off, his footwork clumsy, and at one point he nearly stepped on her toes. But she laughed every time he stumbled—not cruelly, just charmed.

“Okay,” she said, “you move like you’re still on a race line, but I’m giving you points for effort.”

Oscar became acutely aware of the warmth radiating from her, the steady beat of her heart against his chest. The softness of her breath mingled with his, the faint scent of her perfume—something floral, with hints of apple—lingering in the air between them. For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the distant twang of the music fading into a gentler melody, like a lullaby coaxing them away from everything else.

His mind, usually racing with strategy and splits and lap times, quieted. The noise of the gala—the forced smiles, the glittering expectations—fell away, replaced by this unexpected calm. He caught the way her eyes softened when they met his, the slight curve of her lips as if she was on the verge of saying something important but wasn’t sure if the moment was right.

Then the first drops of rain tapped against the ballroom windows, soft but steady.

Y/N’s gaze flicked upward, catching the change.

“That’s our cue,” she said with a playful grin, pulling gently at his sleeve.

Before Oscar could protest, she was already moving toward the side exit. The cool marble of the floor gave way to the fresh scent of wet grass as they stepped outside.

The rain had come fully now, a gentle shower that cooled the air and blurred the city lights into shimmering streaks.

Y/N laughed, a sound that was equal parts thrill and relief, as she spun once beneath the dark sky, arms wide open, rain soaking through her dress.

Oscar watched her, a smile tugging at his lips despite the damp chill.

“You’re impossible,” he said, reaching to take her hand.

“Maybe,” she admitted, squeezing his fingers. “But I promise I’m fun.”

He tugged her close again, under the wide canopy of an old oak tree that shielded them from the worst of the rain. Their breaths mingled in the quiet night, hearts beating faster—not from the dance, or the cold, but something else. He brushed a wet strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said softly.

She smiled, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the raindrops. “Me too.”

The space between them shrank until their lips met—tentative at first, then with growing certainty—sealed beneath the rhythm of falling rain and the promise of something new. The kiss lingered, gentle and warm despite the cool rain soaking through their clothes. Oscar’s hand rested lightly on her waist, steadying her as if grounding himself just as much as her. She melted into the moment, her fingers curling into the lapel of his jacket.

When they finally pulled apart, breath mingling in the damp night air, her eyes shone—half amused, half something softer. “Well,” she teased, “I still say you’re a disaster on the dance floor.”

Oscar chuckled, brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m more of a rookie tonight, I admit.”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a quiet, sincere tone. “You don’t have to be perfect, you know. None of this does.”

He studied her face—the slight crease at the corner of her eye from laughing, the honest warmth that seemed to come naturally with her presence.

“Maybe that’s the best part,” he said, smiling softly.

For a moment, they just stood beneath the oak tree, listening to the rain drum gently above them. Somewhere distant, the gala music drifted faintly through the night, a reminder of the world they’d stepped away from. The night stretched before them, open and full of possibilities. She leaned her head lightly against Oscar’s chest, her breath steadying as his arms wrapped gently around her. Neither of them said anything for a while, content to listen to the rain and the hush of the world narrowing down to just this — two racers under a tree, hiding from a life that never seemed to slow down.

She tilted her head up, her voice softer now, thoughtful. “We’re always performing, y’know? Even off the track. Always trying to fit into whatever mold they think we should be.”

Oscar nodded. “Smile for the camera. Thank the sponsors. Pretend you’re not tired or pissed off or over it.”

“But right now…” she paused, brushing a droplet from his cheek, “this is the first time in a long while where I haven’t felt like I needed to be anyone else.”

He searched her expression and found himself nodding before the words even formed. “Same.”

The tree swayed slightly in the breeze, scattering droplets across Oscar’s shoulders, but he didn’t move. He didn’t want to. The tension he’d brought into the gala—the tight smile, the stiff tuxedo, the mental countdown to freedom—had all dissolved the moment she’d sat down next to him.

Y/N stepped back, just enough to meet his eyes again. “Tell you what, Piastri. Next time they drag us to one of these things, we go together. That way at least we can be miserable with decent company.”

Oscar smiled, wide and real. “Deal. But only if you promise to teach me that line dancing you mentioned.”

She gave a low, teasing laugh. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re going to regret that.”

“I doubt it,” he said. And meant it.

They slowly made their way back inside, both soaked, both smiling, not even trying to play it cool. A few heads turned when they reentered the ballroom, water dripping from the hem of her dress and the shoulders of his tux, their fingers still loosely intertwined.

Later that night, long after the gala ended, a blurry photo would make its way to social media—Oscar and Y/N on the dance floor, laughing, too close to be “just friends,” her boots visible beneath her dress, his hand lingering on her waist. The caption simply read:

#UnexpectedPair or motorsport’s newest duo? 👀🔥

Oscar saw it the next morning. His phone buzzed nonstop with group chats and PR warnings and cheeky messages from Lando.

But he ignored all of them for a moment and sent the photo to Y/N with a message:

“Apparently I’m not just bad at two-stepping — I’m publicly bad at it now.”

Her reply came seconds later:

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re clumsy.”

“Teach me next off-season?” he added.

“Boots and all,” she sent back. “Always.”

He smiled, flipping the phone onto the hotel nightstand, the sound of rain still lingering in his mind. Maybe the off-season didn’t have to be about waiting. Maybe, this time, it was about starting.

#starset writes #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #op81 x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

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mylovesstuffs · 1 day ago

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The Night He Knelt — Wen Junhui

By day, he’s the heir to the throne. By night, he’s just a man knocking at your door. Prince Wen Junhui never followed rules when it came to you. What begins with just friendship and stolen glances soon spirals into something deeper... and far more dangerous. Behind closed doors and under the hush of candlelight, secrets are whispered between silken sheets and robes that slip a little too easily. But how long can a love like this survive—when one of you belongs to the people, and the other to the crown?

Genre: Royalty au, forbidden love, romance, friends-to-lovers

Pairing: Crown prince!Jun × commoner fem!reader

Content: Late-night visit, vulnerability and longing, dual lives (public vs private), secret relationship (?), royalty sneaking into commoner’s room, mutual pining, robe slipping scene, friends to lovers with hidden mutual feelings, affectionate banter, emotional confessions mid-intimacy, firelight ambience, soft dominance, kneeling symbolism, prince/Jun falling first, touch-starved, devotion as rebellion, subtle powerplay through vulnerability ig???

Warnings: Partial undressing, suggestive imagery, lingerie mention, mentions of sickness (reader feeling unwell), social class divide, implied secrecy and court politics, restraint breaking down, power imbalance somewhat explored

A/N: I don't even know how this happened; it was supposed to be a short drabble, and it was a drabble!!! I wrote up to, “Let me stay tonight.” and then just wanted to explore a few more lines but ended up writing 500 more words 🙂 I don't mind; it's Jun after all. But it'd be better if I could actually take a deep dive and explore slowly lol. I didn't even have a proper title because everything sounded either too dramatic or too cliché. HELP. But please enjoy this anyway. Thank you for reading 💌

Jun, have a very wonderful birthday! Since he holds the entire day, the only post that will be posted today is of him. I only hope that wherever he is, he feels all the love 🥹🫶🏼 I'm grateful that you introduced me to seventeen. I'm grateful that you let me in. My love for you will forever continue to grow 💖

Word count: 1191 words

You had been curled up on your divan with a book balanced on your knees — some obscure, poetic piece of literature you were too tired to actually finish. The fire had been dying, the heat of the hearth flickering low, and you'd barely gotten through the next paragraph before you had heard the knock.

You didn’t answer, just looked up in surprise as the door creaked open.

There he was, but his gold-trimmed armor, or his guards, or the title that the court had boasted so loudly about, weren't in sight. It was just, Jun. Soft sweater with tousled hair, and uncharacteristically barefoot.

“I heard you were feeling sick,” he said, stepping inside. “So I brought... provisions.”

You raised an eyebrow at the small tray in his hand, which you assumed to be fresh fruits, honey, a little jar of tea. He looked too proud, but also too shy all at once. “You walked through the palace carrying these?”

“Well.” He cleared his throat, placing the tray on the side table. “The royal facilities weren’t providing anything you'd actually eat.”

You smiled. “So the Prince plays nursemaid now?”

“I prefer concerned friend.” Jun glanced away, then caught your eye again. “Unless you’d rather I leave.”

“No,” you blurted out too quickly, betraying your calm.

He walked over slowly, the fire casting shadows around the room. Golden lines were crawling over the sheets of your bed, the spines of the books stacked beside it with your legs tucked beneath your robe. He didn’t speak as he sat next to you, his knees brushing against each other.

Your voice softened. “Jun, I’m not that sick, you know.”

He turned to look at you. But this was the look that always made your pulse jump, that pulled the air from the room and made you feel like you were in someone’s orbit; unable to, unwilling to break away. “Maybe not,” he said, lowering his voice. “But I needed to see you anyway.”

A silence stretched between them, perhaps warm and aware. Your robe slipped a little at the shoulder. His gaze followed—then quickly darted away. You followed it back to the corner of the room, where a silky set of navy lingerie lay forgotten over a chair, something you'd tried on earlier out of boredom and never folded away. Your face flushed. “I wasn’t expecting company,” you murmured, adjusting your robe.

His lips twitched. “I’m... aware.”

More silence started crackling like fire. The lukewarm tea on the side table was long forgotten, eyes not meeting but also never quite parting. “You always do that,” you whispered, your voice dipping unconsciously into a much softer range than previous.

“Do what?”

“You look at me like I’m your whole world or something. Like I’m... someone royal.”

He turned to you without any hesitation. “You are,” he said. “To me.”

And in that moment—with the storm slicked against the windows, the forgotten books, the tray untouched, the crown far away—you smiled, a smile that glowed from the inside out. He leaned closer, one hand gently brushing back your hair.

“My dear,” he said, barely a breath between them. “Let me stay tonight.”

The words just hung there. It wasn't a command, or even a request, but a confession, per se. One wrapped in silk and longing and the aching restraint that only years of secrets can carve. You didn’t answer right away.

Because if you did, if you said yes, it would mean pulling him into a world where duty and desire couldn't breathe in the same space. Where the Prince was not allowed to fall asleep in a commoner’s room, and where you were not allowed to look at him like that.

But you were looking at him like that, and he was already in your orbit. His shoulders were tense, breath quiet with his eyes flickering between your lips and the pale curve of your neck beneath the robe.

“You’re not staying just because I’m sick,” you said softly, testing the water.

“No,” he admitted, voice roughened by restraint. “I’m staying because I can’t keep pretending I don’t think about you… constantly.”

Your fingers tightened in the fabric of your robe. His hand rose tentatively and slowly, and brushed the edge of it, where it tied over your ribs. He wasn't pushing, just resting there; asking you.

You let it fall open just slightly. An exhale followed out of his lips from the affirmation.

The firelight kissed the lace of your bra, barely visible beneath the silk, a deep red that made your skin glow like candlelight. You watched him take you in like a man starved; not for flesh, for you.

“You wore this…” he breathed, eyes tracing every line. “Was it for someone?”

Your smile was wicked-soft. “Maybe. A dear friend who had wandered into my chambers.”

A low chuckle escaped his lips. “Then I hope he knows how to thank you properly.”

You leaned in until your lips were near his ear. “Maybe you can show him.”

That made Jun's self-control crack like thin ice. His hand slid behind your neck as he kissed you; it wasn't like a prince or like royalty at all, but like a man lost in the taste of someone forbidden. Your lips parted easily, greedily, as he pulled you closer, fingers tangling into the sheets behind you. The tray tipped on the side table from the impact of their doings, fruit rolling to the carpet. Neither of them had taken notice.

Your hands explored his back beneath his sweater. It was warm, taut muscle, heat radiating off him in waves. You tugged him down with you, mouths never breaking, hearts hammering out unspoken verses like their own private literature.

“You drive me mad,” he whispered against your collarbone. “You always have.”

You laughed breathlessly. “You're the one sneaking around palace corridors like a lovesick boy.”

“Oh, I’m sick, alright,” he said as he slid the robe off your shoulders. “Sick for you.”

His mouth found your skin, reverent, slick with heat and need, following the lines of lace like a map only he was allowed to read. You arched beneath him, fingers tugging at his clothes, stripping away the last symbols of control.

“Have I mentioned,” he growled, voice thicker now, “how your mind turns me on as much as your body?”

“No,” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut, “but say it again.”

“I fall for your humour,” he said, trailing kisses down your torso, “your passion, your stubbornness, your mind… You could burn this whole royal world down and I’d still kneel at your feet.”

You let out a shivering laugh, heart molten. “Then kneel, my prince.”

And so he did; not as sovereign, nor as the heir to legacy and crown, but simply as a man, undone not by sword or war, but by love. There, in the sheets and lace tangled, amidst shadows woven by firelight and longing, he surrendered. Their union was not inscribed in the decrees of law, but in breathless sighs, in the poetry of touch, and in the sacred little rebellion of two souls choosing each other wholly, without condition.

⌦ 👑 © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. thank you for reading—your reblog means everything. until we meet again, stay cozy and keep dreaming! ◜ᴗ◝

#svthub #mansaenetwork #jun x reader #wen junhui x reader #seventeen jun x reader #jun imagines #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun scenarios #seventeen junhui #jun seventeen #seventeen jun #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen #svt #★— mylovesstuffs twenty twenty five #★— mylovesstuffs

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killerplink · 3 days ago

Text

TROUBLE

Pairing: Roy Harper x Female Reader

Plot: You'd been a brat all evening because of course you had. That always happens when you have one too many drinks, and tonight? Tonight the wine was really fucking good.

A/N: okay first of all... I KNOW. I KNOW THIS TOOK FOREVER 😭 I'm sorry besties, work went from "yay I love my job" to "oh" real fucking fast and I've been coming home with just enough energy to doomscroll TikTok and blink at the wall until bedtime 😭 this is the first out of three I'm planning on writing (with the guys calling reader a slut for the first time) BUT Roy was up first bc I don't have enough fics with him and I love him so much it's disgusting. Dick's next (bc hello?? neglected pretty boy hours) and then our fave menace Jason 🙂‍↕️ also yes... it's long. I know it. I felt it. I lived it. but I needed the ending like I needed air after this week so I stretched

👉🏻👈🏻 thank you for your patience and for still being here ily 😭🫶🏻

Roy had promised you a date night. No distractions, no missions, no one needing saving, just the two of you, dressed to the nines and making the most of a rare night off. And oh, he delivered.

You're in this little dress that makes you feel like a walking sin—short, silky, low cut, the kind that makes heads turn the second you walk in. One wrong move and it might ride all the way up your thighs, but Roy hadn't been able to stop staring since you stepped out of the bedroom, lips parted like he was already halfway to losing his mind.

You'd been on your best behavior at first, giggling through appetizers, holding hands across the table, sneaking kisses between glasses of wine. But somewhere around glass number... three? Four? Things started to shift.

The man's got his hair slicked back tonight, wearing that deep green button down you love—tight at his arms, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up just enough to flash the curve of his forearms and the edge of his watch. And those black slacks? Fitted to hell, of course, because he knows exactly what he's doing.

Your foot found his under the table. Your fingers started trailing up his thigh. You pressed your chest a little closer when you leaned in to whisper something stupid in his ear. And then you got bold.

Now, sitting pretty with your legs crossed and your face flushed from the wine, your hand is tucked between the crisp white tablecloth and Roy's lap. Your fingertips drag slow, deliberate strokes over the bulge growing behind his zipper, and his thigh tenses beneath your palm.

He's been grabbing your wrist all night, whispering sharp little warnings through clenched teeth like, "Cut it out, baby" or "You tryna get us kicked out?"

But it's never lasted. You keep going, poking the bear, giggling like you don't know any better. This time, when you rub your palm in a teasing little circle right over the tip of his cock, you feel his whole body shift. His jaw clenches, the vein in his neck jumps, his fingers wrap tight around your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make you still.

He leans in, voice low and warm and dangerous in your ear. "You'd better behave, pretty thing."

You grin, drunk and delighted, and turn your head just enough that your lips brush his cheek. Your voice is syrupy sweet, full of mischief, "Or what, baby?"

You hear the sharp breath he pulls through his nose, feel the twitch of his cock under your palm. His grip tightens, just slightly.

"You're—fuckin' shit. I'll show you what, trouble. Just wait until we get home."

And fuck, the way he says it? That low growl threading through his words, like he's barely holding himself together? It fucking thrills you.

You flash him a grin. A little smug. A little drunk. A little too confident for someone who's about to get their back blown out for being a menace. He doesn't smile back, just watches you like he's already picturing exactly how he's going to make you pay for it, and you know that look. But God, you're in for it.

Roy lets go of your wrist with a sharp sigh and leans back just slightly, like he needs to create some space between you and his rapidly dwindling self control. You flash him an exaggeratedly sweet smile, batting your lashes as you reach for your wine glass again because you are not done being a problem.

He watches you the whole time. Narrowed eyes, that tense set to his jaw. You drain what's left of your glass, clearly way too pleased with yourself, and then you spill, just a little. A drip of deep red wine slips from the corner of your mouth and rolls down your chin, slow and glossy, heading straight for the neckline of your already too revealing dress.

"Oh shit," you giggle, swiping at your chin with your knuckles, but you're a little too slow, a little too clumsy.

Roy's already there. He doesn't say anything, just lifts his hand and brushes his thumb over your skin, right below your lip. Gentle, controlled. It's nothing, really, just a wipe. A quick, efficient swipe to keep the wine from staining the expensive dress he definitely plans to peel off of you later.

But then? Oh, then you lean in and wrap your lips around his thumb. Just like that. Soft and sweet, like you're trying to make a fucking point. Your eyes locked on his, all glassy and innocent like you have no idea what you're doing, like you're just being polite. Except you're definitely not being polite.

Roy freezes. His whole body goes still. His eyes flick down to your mouth and he just stares for a second, like he can't quite believe you're doing this here. In public. After all his warnings, after all his threats.

You swirl your tongue a little, just to twist the knife, then you let his thumb go with a soft little pop and smile again, drunk, smug, and glowing with mischief.

He groans, quiet and low, like it's been ripped out of him, finishes his water and sits back so fast his chair creaks. One hand drags down his face, the other gestures sharply for the waiter.

"Check, please."

You let out a tiny hiccup of laughter, tipsy and proud of yourself as you press into his side, clinging to his arm like you haven't just been acting like a walking, purring little sex fantasy in the middle of this overpriced restaurant. He's solid under your hands—warm, tense, and radiating the kind of heat that promises hell once you're alone.

He's trying to pay the bill like a normal person, flipping his card out and adding the tip with the kind of tight, rushed motions that make it painfully obvious he's holding back from grabbing you and bending you over the damn table.

Meanwhile, you're a mess. A happy, drunk, soaked little mess. Your panties? Fucking ruined. You're so wet it's embarrassing, heat pulsing between your thighs with every little glance he throws your way, every clench of his jaw, every muttered curse under his breath as he signs the bill.

Truth be told, you've been like this since glass number two. He looked too good, smelled too good, kept putting his hand on your thigh, and your mind has been in the gutter ever since. You've been picturing everything: him tugging you into his lap, bending you over the hood of the car, manhandling you against the bedroom door with your dress shoved up around your waist. It's all just filth. Filth and more filth, and you haven't even touched him properly yet.

The second the waiter walks away, Roy turns to you, jaw clenched tight. "Car. Now."

Not a question. Not a request. You trip. Twice. Once on the sidewalk and again on the edge of the curb, but Roy's right there both times, steady hands catching your waist with practiced ease.

"Careful, pretty thing," he murmurs, voice still edged with heat but softened by the way you cling to him like your bones don't work anymore.

You giggle and melt into his side, nuzzling your cheek against his arm like some drunk, needy little cat. Your arms wrap around his bicep, your heels clacking as you lean all your weight into him, humming contentedly like you haven't just spent the last hour groping him under a white linen tablecloth.

And for a second, just one second, he forgets why he was annoyed with you. You're warm, tipsy, glowing from the wine and affection, and he's always had a soft spot for the way you get like this. Clingy. Cute. All curled into him like you belong there. Which you do.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he reaches for the car keys, fumbling slightly while you rock on your heels behind him. But the second he unlocks the car door, you make your next move. One arm snakes around his waist from behind. The other? Right back on his dick.

Your hand cups him through his slacks like you own him, like it's your damn toy to play with, rubbing slow little circles right over the tip until you feel him twitch, straining against the fabric all over again. And the worst part? You're still doing it with that innocent little hum in your throat like this is just your natural resting position.

He sighs. Half frustrated, half turned the fuck on, eyes closing for a second as his head drops forward.

"You're so lucky you're cute, trouble."

Then he turns and kisses your forehead—soft, gentle, the kind of kiss that makes you feel sweet and adored even as you make his life hell—before turning you around to the passenger side.

He helps you into the car with a guiding hand, like you're a drunk doll he has to babysit, and leans over to fasten your seatbelt for you. Except you don't make it easy.

Your arms wrap around his neck before he can pull away. Your lips are on his skin—soft, wet kisses along his jaw, your tongue teasing the shell of his ear as you squirm in your seat like you're possessed.

"Baaaby," you whine, licking at his throat, "want you."

He groans under his breath, the belt clicking into place with a snap just as his hand comes up to cup your cheek. He tilts your face up and kisses you, just once, hot and impatient.

"Just a bit more," he mutters against your lips. "We're almost home, yeah?"

You pout. Full, glossy lips pulling into the kind of expression that should be illegal with how wrecked you already look. Your cheeks are flushed, your thighs spread slightly, and when you grab his hand and guide it between your legs, he doesn't resist. Your panties are soaked.

He groans, this time louder, because fuck, he knew you were worked up. He could smell it on you the second you climbed into the car. But this? This is insane. You're soaked through the lace, sticky and hot and absolutely throbbing for him.

"But I want you now, baby," you murmur, hips grinding forward into his palm. "Look—feel how wet I am."

Yeah, he's feeling it, alright. His fingers press slow, lazy circles over the damp fabric like he wants to feel how far he can push you before you break. You gasp. Shudder. Your thighs twitch. But he just watches you with those smug green eyes like he's trying already a thousand miles ahead of you.

He pulls his hand away and smirks as your breath catches in protest, then he shuts the door without another word, rounding the car like nothing just happened.

You cling to his arm the second he slides into the driver's seat, like some pathetic little koala who can't bear to be more than two inches from his body. Your cheek rests against his bicep, lips pushed out in a ridiculous pout, and Roy just exhales slowly, one hand gripping the wheel as he starts the car.

If he's being honest, you'd be adorable if you weren't such a needy mess right now. Your hair is all mussed from leaning on him, your lipstick is half gone, smudged from kissing his jaw, and your pupils are blown wide, drunk on red wine and dirty thoughts. He can practically feel the heat rolling off you, warm and needy, like your whole body is just buzzing for him.

He doesn't say anything, just pulls out of the parking lot and heads for the familiar way home, trying to ignore the huff you let out when he doesn't immediately pull over and fuck you in the backseat like some goddamn animal.

He nearly laughs. Nearly. But he doesn't. Because he has no fucking idea what you'll try next if he pushes you even one inch further.

You're already bratting harder than he's ever seen, and the moment he lets his guard down, he knows you'll be leaning over the console with your dress hiked up to your hips and that sweet, filthy mouth wrapped around his dick like it's your goddamn job.

Five minutes into the drive, the rain starts, light at first. Just a soft drizzle against the windshield, but then it thickens, heavy drops splattering the glass in a steady rhythm.

He clicks the wipers on and groans under his breath. "Great. Half hour drive just turned into an hour."

You whine. Whine. Soft and pathetic like you're physically in pain over it. He doesn't even have to look at you to feel it—the pout, the crossed arms, the little dramatic wiggle of your thighs like you're trying to grind down on nothing.

"I can't wait that long, Roy," you moan. "I want you now."

He presses his lips together and stares at the road like it personally offended him.

"Jesus Christ, trouble," he mutters. "I'll fuck you once we're home. Just behave."

You huff. Loudly. Arms crossing over your chest like a brat with a wet pussy, and he knows you're doing that on purpose. Pressing your tits together, letting that little lace bra strain against your dress so he can see the outline through the fabric. Being a menace just to watch him suffer. And he is suffering.

Because truthfully? He hates saying no to you. From the very beginning, he's been a yes man when it comes to you. Yes to late night pancakes. Yes to you dragging him shopping. Yes to your sleepy kisses and your insatiable need for attention, even when he's halfway through a mission report and you're climbing into his lap in nothing but one of his shirts.

And yeah, maybe you're a little spoiled now. Maybe that's his fault, but he's never minded. Not really. Because you're his, and he loves giving you what you want.

But there are lines he won't cross. Not because he's some prude, but because fucking you means something. When he's got you under him, he wants to take his time. Wants to make you feel it, make you remember it.

He wants to fuck you dumb and then hold you after, letting you snuggle into his chest, all soft and fucked out and glowing. He wants to worship you. And he can't do that on a rainy stretch of road with your panties shoved to the side and the gearshift in the way. So yeah, no, he's not gonna fuck you on the drive home.

Or at least, that's what he thinks. Because you? Oh, you're not done. And this poor man's resolve? It's hanging by a fucking thread. He pulls up to a red light with a quiet sigh, his hand flexing around the wheel, and that's your cue, like fucking clockwork. You lean over the console again, all warm and shameless, cheek pressed to his arm, those wide, glossy eyes peeking up at him with the fakest innocence he's ever fucking seen. You blink at him real slow, lashes fluttering like you're sweet, like you're just cuddling him for warmth.

But your hand? Yeah, it's on his dick again. Of course it is.

You squeeze him gently through his slacks, fingers pressing into the thick, twitching length you've been teasing for the past two hours, and Roy hisses between his teeth. His hand drops to your thigh, gripping you hard enough to make you squirm, his fingers digging in just enough to sting.

"Baby. Stop that," he says, voice rough, but he doesn't push your hand away.

And you? You know exactly what that means. That quiet, desperate little hitch in his breath when you stroke him again? Yeah, you've got him. You've been dancing on the edge all night and now you've got one foot planted on the gas. So you lick your lips, just to be a menace, just to see that muscle tick in his jaw.

"C'mon, Roy," you murmur, lips brushing against his ear. "I'm so fucking wet. I need your dick, please."

He closes his eyes like he's trying to find inner peace while your hand is wrapped around his cock in public. He even pinches the bridge of his nose.

"We can't fuck here," he grits out. "We're in the middle of a red light."

"No," you say sweetly, stroking him again, "but we can fuck there."

You point. Supermarket parking lot. Mostly empty. A few empty vans scattered here and there, the kind of place no one's paying attention to anyone else. Discreet. Quiet. Perfect.

You see the flicker of temptation in his eyes, the way his fingers tense, the way he thinks about it, but then he shakes his head.

"I don't wanna fuck you in the car, pretty thing," he says softly, fingers rubbing small circles into your thigh like he's trying to soothe himself more than you.

And you scoff. "Why not? I literally want you to."

He opens his mouth, maybe to say it's about respect, or that he doesn't do this kind of thing, or that it's not romantic enough, but then you stroke his cock again, slow and steady, right over the hard line in his pants.

And just like that, he's fucking silent.

So you lean in closer, breath hot against his neck, and whisper, "I know you love fucking me at home. I get it. I love it too. But I can't wait that long, baby. My pussy is dripping all over your goddamn seat."

That's it. That's the final fucking straw. He doesn't say a word, just flicks the turn signal on and heads toward the parking lot.

You squeal, practically bouncing in your seat like a bratty little gremlin who just got her way, but if you knew what was coming? You wouldn't be smiling. Not like that. Because Roy Harper? He's done playing nice. You wanted this? You're gonna get it.

He pulls into the lot without a word, eyes dark, jaw tight, and swings the car right into the far corner, wedging it neatly between two parked vans. Out of sight, out of mind. The second he shifts into park, you can feel the shift in him. He unclicks his seatbelt with one hand, and the other?

Right under your chin, tilting your face to him—not aggressively, but just enough to make your breath hitch. Just enough that you feel the dominance radiating off him now that he's fully done pretending to be calm.

"You wanna be a little slut in my car?" he asks, voice low, rasped, like the words burn on his tongue.

And it stuns you because Roy has never talked to you like that. He teases, sure—calls you trouble, baby, pretty thing—but this? This is different.

Your eyes go wide, lips part, breath catches.

And your pussy? Oh, your pussy fucking pounds. Throbbing behind sticky lace, so wet it's a miracle he doesn't hear it when you shift in your seat.

Your mind is racing—did he really just say that?—but your body is already on board, already aching.

You gasp, soft and breathy, not in shock but in... something else. Something dark and hot and deep in your belly. And Roy—poor, sweet Roy—thinks for half a second that he's gone too far, that he fucked it up.

His brows twitch together, his mouth opens, and he stammers, "I—Shit, baby. I didn't mean—"

But you cut him off with a shaky murmur, soft and needy. "Y-yeah."

And he fucking freezes. Eyes searching your face like he didn't just hear that right, like maybe the rain is playing tricks on him.

"Yeah?" he echoes. Rougher, like gravel dragged across velvet.

His thumb brushes your lower lip. Just a gentle sweep, slow, like he's trying to test how far he can push. And you nod. A little too fast. A little too eager.

"Yeah," you breathe, slower this time, like your whole body is melting for him.

"Fine," he growls. "Then you're gonna take it like one, huh?"

You nod again, whimpering under your breath as heat floods your skin, and then he pounces. His lips crash against yours, greedy and hot and hungry, all teeth and tongue and desperation, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl in your heels.

And his other hand? Oh, his other hand slides between your legs, pushing that little dress up with no patience whatsoever until his fingers find your panties, lace clinging to your folds like a second skin.

He groans into your mouth the moment he feels it. "Fuck... you meant it, didn't you?” he rasps, lips brushing yours as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles through the sticky fabric. "This soaked for me? That wine didn't do shit. You've been a mess all night."

You moan—loud, shameless—grinding into his palm as your fingers clutch at his jacket, needy and twitching.

"Y-yeah, Roy... fuck—please, I need it..."

"Yeah," he growls, dragging the lace to the side just enough to feel the slick mess between your thighs. "You're gonna get it, trouble. Gonna fuck you just like the little slut you wanna be."

And he means it. Because you wanted the mouth, you asked for the edge, and Roy's about to make sure you feel it. You don't even get the chance to brace yourself,

because the moment your panties are tugged aside and he feels your pussy—hot, wet, dripping all over his fingers—Roy groans into your mouth like he's been holding it in for hours.

"God, baby... this pussy," he mutters against your lips, thumb sweeping over your clit again. "So fuckin' wet for me."

Your head falls forward against his shoulder as his thumb circles your clit, lazy but firm, and the heat builds fast. You clutch at his arm, nails digging in through his jacket, and he just chuckles under his breath because you're already starting to tremble and he hasn't even slipped a finger inside yet. Then his lips find yours again.

It's hot and messy, his tongue pushing past your lips with a moan that rumbles deep in his chest, one hand cradling your jaw while the other works between your thighs just like he's done this a thousand times. The kiss is desperate—teeth clashing, lips slick, gasps shared between hungry mouths—and your hips roll without permission, grinding against his hand like you need it to breathe.

Then he breaks the kiss, panting, eyes locked on your face as he finally pushes two fingers inside your needy cunt, and you shudder. You're whimpering, tight walls clenching around him as he groans again, dragging his fingers out slow before sliding back in just as deep, curling them the way he knows makes your back arch every time.

"There she is," he says low, thumb pressing against your clit again, just right. "That's what you needed, huh? Had to act like a brat all night just to get my fingers in your pussy."

You nod, barely able to breathe, much less form a sentence. Every stroke of his fingers hits perfect, and his thumb is working that swollen clit like a damn menace, tight circles that make your thighs twitch and your cunt clench.

"Gonna cum all over my fuckin' hand, aren't you? Make a mess all over the damn seat—shit, baby—listen to you."

And you do listen. You hear it, every slick drag of his fingers, every breathy whine tumbling from your mouth, every low groan he lets out when your pussy clenches tight.

"Tight little pussy's fuckin' chokin' my fingers," he groans. "You needed this bad, huh? Needed to be full. Needed to be used."

You're gasping, hands fisted in his jacket, thighs shaking, and he knows. He feels it. Your pussy is fluttering around his fingers, your clit pulsing under his thumb, and you're right on the edge, desperate and dripping and needing to fall.

"Go on, baby," he whispers, voice dark and sweet and so mean. "Be a good little slut and cum for me."

The rain is a steady drumbeat against the windshield, but all Roy can hear is you. Your gasps, your whines, the wet, obscene sounds of your greedy cunt sucking on his fingers like it's starving for more.

You're a mess in the passenger seat, hair falling in your face, dress bunched up at your waist, panties shoved to the side, legs spread and trembling as you fuck yourself on his fingers. And Roy? He can't stop staring. He's got two thick fingers buried inside you, knuckles deep and soaked to the damn wrist, and your pussy is clenching around them so tight he's half convinced it's trying to milk him dry.

"Fuckin' hell, baby," he mutters, brows furrowed as he curls his fingers and watches your hips twitch. "You're losing your damn mind, huh?"

And you are. Rocking into his hand like a bitch in heat, practically fucking yourself on his fingers with this broken, whiny rhythm that's got your thighs shaking and your voice high and needy. You're soaked, so wet he can hear every messy drag of his fingers inside you, and fuck if the slick heat around them doesn't make his cock throb painfully hard.

He hadn't expected you to love the filth, hadn't expected to see you like this. Hair wild, chest heaving, lips parted, drunk off his voice and his touch and the way he's talking to you like you're just some cockdrunk little toy in his car. But you are, and you're loving it.

"Look at you," he grits out, thumb circling your clit faster. "Fuckin' your needy little pussy on my fingers. Didn't think I'd ever call you a slut, but shit, baby."

And you do, you feel it. The way you're riding his hand, soaking his palm, whimpering every time he crooks his fingers just right and sends sparks up your spine. You're gasping, bucking, completely out of control, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Roy's watching it all with wide eyes, heart pounding, like he's seeing a whole new side of you unfold right in front of him and fuck if it's not the hottest thing he's ever seen.

You're so close. Clit throbbing under his thumb, walls fluttering around his fingers, hips stuttering against his palm as the pressure builds fast, hot and tight and relentless. Your hands scramble over his jacket, desperate for something to hold onto, and he knows.

"You gonna cum for me, pretty thing?" he says, voice low and dark and way too soft for how mean he's being. "Go on. Fuckin' cum, baby. I wanna feel it."

And just like that, you snap. You cry out, thighs clamping around his wrist as you cum hard, cunt pulsing around his fingers with wet, messy spasms that make you tremble from head to toe. Your voice breaks, breath hitching in your throat, and you shake through it, hips rocking helplessly as the orgasm crashes through you like a wave.

Roy doesn't stop, not for a second. His fingers fuck you through every aftershock, curling deep while his thumb teases your throbbing clit until you're gasping, twitching, nearly sobbing from how intense it is. And when your arms give out and you slump against him, you drag shaky fingers into his hair, tugging him down into another kiss.

It's desperate, sloppy. Your lips on his, open and hungry, your tongue pushing past his lips with this filthy little moan as you suck on it, wet and messy and perfect. He groans and you just melt into him, grinding against his hand even though you're still pulsing, still riding the high.

Your body is still twitching, still shaking from the orgasm he just pulled out of you, but his fingers are still inside you, slick and slow, curling deep as his thumb comes right back to your swollen, throbbing clit, barely giving you a second to breathe before he starts rubbing you again.

"R-Roy—baby, no..." you gasp, your voice all broken and whiny, fingers gripping at his jacket like you don't know whether to push him away or drag him closer.

But your hips? Still rolling into his hand. Still grinding that desperate little cunt against his palm like your body doesn't give a shit what your mouth is saying. And Roy fucking notices, of course.

"No?" he echoes, voice low and hot against your lips as he kisses you again—messy, tongue and teeth and breathy little groans. "Thought you were gonna take it, brat."

Then he pinches your clit. Just a little. Just enough to make your thighs jump and your pussy clench tight around his fingers, your mouth falling open in a breathless gasp as you whimper right into the kiss.

"Oh fuck—Roy—"

"What was that?" he teases, pulling back just a little, eyes locked on your face. "You want somethin'?"

You nod quickly, still panting, still grinding on his soaked fingers like a goddamn animal.

"Want—need your dick," you murmur, eyes glassy and lips puffy as you look up at him all flushed and needy. "Please, baby."

And Roy? Smirks. Because fuck, you're so hot like this. A trembling little mess in his car, soaked, pussy still fluttering around his fingers from how hard you came, and begging for his dick.

"Yeah?" he mutters, finally easing off your clit, sliding his fingers from your cunt with this slick little pop. "Say please again, slut."

You whine, eyes fluttering, cheeks hot, and say it again. "Please..."

His cock jumps, and when he brings those wet, shiny fingers up to your mouth, you don't even hesitate. You open up instantly, tongue out, eyes locked on his like you're ready to worship every inch of him.

So he slides them in slow, two fingers pressing down on your tongue, smearing your own slick all over it and you moan as you close your lips around them and suck like he's feeding you the last drop of water on earth.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes, watching you work. "You're really my little slut, huh? Lickin' your own pussy off my fingers like you need it."

And you do. You're messy about it too, sucking hard, tongue swirling, eyes fluttering half closed as you moan around his fingers like it's his dick in your mouth, and Roy's watching the whole thing like he's about to lose his mind.

His cock? So fucking hard. Throbbing. His slacks are soaked through with precum at this point, leaking so much it's uncomfortable, and all he can think about now is shoving his dick into that hot, dripping pussy and fucking you until you cry.

"You keep suckin' like that," he mutters, voice rough as his eyes drop to your mouth, "I'm gonna cum before I even get inside you."

But you're not stopping. You're moaning around his fingers, eyes begging for more, pussy still fluttering between your legs like it knows what's coming next.

You let his fingers slip from your mouth with a slick, obscene little pop, your lips shiny with spit and your eyes all hazy as you blink up at him, dazed but so fucking hungry for more. And then you're kissing him again.

Fast, needy, nothing soft or slow about it. Just tongue and teeth and the sweetest, filthiest little moans pouring out of your mouth every time he presses deeper, every time his lips bruise yours with how badly he wants you.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging him closer like you're trying to climb into his lap without even moving. His hands? Everywhere. One sliding over your waist, the other tugging at the neckline of your dress—ruthless, honestly. He doesn't even try to be subtle about it, just yanks the straps of your dress and bra down with one rough pull until your tits bounce free into his palms.

"Fuck—look at you," he groans against your mouth, pulling back just enough to glance down at the way your chest rises and falls, nipples tight from the cold and the heat of his stare. "You know how crazy you make me?"

You just whimper, nodding as his thumbs brush over your nipples, slow circles at first, barely enough to relieve the ache, just enough to tease. He pinches them, rolls them between his fingers, making you squirm in your seat, moaning softly against his lips when he leans in and kisses you again, slower, more deliberate. Deep and messy, the kind of kiss that makes your thighs rub together.

But he's not the only one who can tease.

One of your hands slides down between you, right over the firm line of his abs, and you palm his cock through his pants, gently at first. But when he moans into your mouth, you moan right back, rolling your palm against the swollen head where it's leaking like crazy, your fingers dragging along the wet patch at the front of his slacks.

"Shit—" Roy hisses, breaking the kiss as he bites down a groan, his hands tightening on your waist. "You're still playin' with fire, baby."

And maybe you are, but you love the way he sounds when you touch him like this. The way his hips twitch under your hand, the way his jaw clenches as he fights the urge to just unzip and pull his dick out right now. You rub him slow, squeezing a little tighter this time, teasing your fingertips along his shaft until his breath gets heavy again.

He lets you fumble with his zipper, lets you pop that button open with your teeth grazing his throat like a goddamn tease—because you are one. A bratty little minx with your tits out and your hand already sliding inside his slacks, greedy and trembling like you've waited all night for this. And okay, maybe you have.

You kiss down the side of his neck, open mouthed and wet, your tongue trailing along the sharp line of his jaw as you suck little bruises into his skin. Messy, possessive, your lipstick long gone, smeared half across his throat, but he doesn't care. You've got your hand wrapped around his cock, so yeah, he definitely doesn't care.

"Shit," he groans when you finally free him, his dick slapping against his stomach, already flushed and dripping with precum. "You're really doin' this, huh?"

You hum into his neck, lips curled into a smirk as your thumb swirls around the head of his cock. Slick and warm, your strokes slow and teasing as you drag your palm down the shaft, coating it in precum. It's so wet already, obscene little squelches filling the space between you every time you pump him, and you can feel him twitch in your hand.

So you lean in and whisper, "Mhmm... been hard all night, haven't you, baby?"

Your voice is soft, breathless, teasing. And that smug little giggle you let out when his hips buck? Yeah, that's what breaks him.

In one fluid, impatient as fuck motion, he grunts and shoves his chair all the way back with a loud thunk, unbuckles your seatbelt with one hand, and then grabs you.

"Alright, that's enough," he mutters, voice thick with heat, his hands gripping your waist like you weigh nothing.

You barely even squeal, too giddy and gone to process it, because he's already lifting you, strong arms hauling you right over the center console, and then you're in his lap, straddling him. Tits out, dress bunched up around your hips, Roy's dick hot and leaking between your bodies and he's looking at you like he's about to ruin you. Because he is.

You're flushed, wide eyed and breathless, your soaked panties barely clinging to you, and he mutters, "Wanna act like a slut?"

His hands are on your ass, pulling you down so his cock sits hot and heavy against your dripping pussy. "Then ride me like one."

He doesn't push in yet. Instead, he grabs a handful of your ass and grinds up against you, the thick head of his cock dragging through your soaked folds like he's just rubbing it in how wet you are for him. And God, are you wet. You're soaked, slick dripping down onto him in sticky little strings that smear across his length with every slow roll of his hips.

"Fuck," he groans, head tilted back, jaw tight. Then, with a cocky little smirk, "What's the matter, baby? Gettin' shy on me now?"

Your breath stutters, your lashes flutter, and you shake your head quickly, cheeks warm and thighs trembling, but still full of it, still gasping when he ruts up again, cock sliding right along your swollen clit and leaving both of you groaning at the contact.

"No?" he huffs, one eyebrow raised as he slaps your ass, not too hard, just enough to make it jiggle, to make you gasp and clench around nothing. "Then ride me. Thought you wanted my dick, pretty thing."

"I— I do," you whimper, voice breathy, needy, and your shaky hand reaches between your bodies, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock as you lift your hips a little.

You guide him to your entrance, your slick making everything glide just a little too easily, and then you sink down on him.

Slowly. God, so fucking slowly because he's thick and you're tight and everything inside you is stretching to make room. And it burns a little, just the way you like. That sweet, full pressure as he splits you open inch by inch, your head tipping back and mouth dropping open as your pussy swallows him.

"F-fuck, Roy..." you gasp, walls fluttering around him as your knees wobble, thighs spread wide over his lap.

And Roy? He groans like he's about to die.

His head drops back against the headrest with a dull thunk, eyes fluttering shut, fists clenching on your hips as he feels you slide all the way down, your slick walls squeezing around him like velvet.

It never gets old. No matter how many times he's fucked you, no matter how many positions, how many rooms, how many nights you've begged him to fill you up—this feeling, that first stretch, that slow, tight slide into your perfect little pussy, it always makes his head spin.

And you? You're trembling, gasping, bottomed out and still clinging to his shoulders like you might float away without him. Your walls are fluttering around him, greedy and wet and so fucking hot, and you blink at him like you're already cock drunk.

"Thaaat's it," he groans, hands gripping your ass again, "Take it all, baby. Just like that."

You start slow. Just a little grind of your hips, testing the stretch, the depth, just how far down his cock is nestled inside your soaked pussy. And he moans, this deep, wrecked sound that vibrates straight through your chest, hands gripping your hips like he's trying not to lose it already.

"Yeah, baby," he huffs, voice tight. "Just like that. Fuckin' ride me."

And you do. God, you do. Because that grind? It turns into a bounce real quick—the first one slow, controlled, but the moment you drop back down and feel him hit that spot, the one that makes your toes curl and your breath catch?

You moan. No, it's not even a moan, you actually make this broken sound you didn't even know you could make, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you fuck yourself on his dick like a goddamn woman possessed. Fast. Hard. Deep.

Your thighs are already trembling but you don't stop, your pussy squelching as you take him over and over, his dick punching into you with a rhythm that sends shockwaves up your spine. You're whining, gasping, clenching around him, absolutely gone already.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmurs, one hand shooting up to tangle in your hair and yank you down into a kiss that's not really a kiss—more tongues, more teeth, more desperation than anything else. "So fuckin' dick drunk you can't even kiss me right."

And well... he's not wrong. You're whimpering against his lips, licking into his mouth, moaning every time his cock drives up into you like he's trying to knock the thoughts out of your head. And his other hand? Oh, it doesn't rest. He's spanking you, sharp little slaps to your ass that make you squeal and squeeze down on his dick.

"Such a filthy little thing," he mutters, lips against your jaw, breath hot. "All that fuckin' attitude earlier, just to end up in my lap like this. Humpin' my dick like a needy slut."

You moan louder, and he laughs, half out of breath, because you squeeze him again like your pussy loves being talked to like that.

Outside, the rain hasn't stopped. It pounds the windshield, mixes with the sound of your dripping pussy bouncing on his cock, the smack of skin on skin, the windows completely fogged up. A little bubble of heat and filth, the car rocking ever so slightly with each thrust of your hips.

"Gonna make a mess all over my fuckin' seat," he groans, gripping your ass again as he thrusts up into you, making you cry out. "That what you wanted, baby? Wanted me to fuck you stupid right here?"

You nod frantically, too far gone for words, your hips snapping down over and over because your orgasm is already building again, and you're shaking with it, full of it, needing it.

"F-fuck," you whimper, pussy working over his cock like you need him in every inch of you. "B-baby..."

And Roy? He's losing it. Because you take him again—all of him—pretty little cunt swallowing him whole with this hot, messy squelch, and your tits are bouncing right in his face. You're a fucking vision. Eyes glazed, lips parted, sweet little gasps spilling out of your mouth like your brain is not even connected to it anymore.

"Fuckin' hell," he groans, hands sliding up your ribs to cup your tits. "Look at you, baby. You're fuckin' unreal."

He leans forward and licks a slow stripe across one of your nipples, just the tip of his tongue at first, teasing, flicking, watching it pebble up from the chill in the air and the heat of his mouth. You moan, loud and breathy, and he fucking smirks against your skin.

"These pretty tits," he mutters, licking again, circling your nipple until you squirm. "Drive me fuckin' crazy."

And then he's sucking it into his mouth. Lips sealing around your nipple as his tongue swirls, then sucks harder, then bites, just a little, just enough to make your pussy clench around his cock and your nails drag down his chest.

"R-Roy—" you choke out, hips still working, still grinding, still fucking soaked on his dick. He can feel the slick dripping down, can feel your mess soaking his slacks, coating his lap like you've got no shame. Truth be told, right now, you don't.

He switches to the other nipple, wet mouth kissing down the curve of your breast, sucking the soft flesh before he takes the other into his mouth, greedy. Licking, sucking, groaning against you while you ride him faster, chasing your high like your life depends on it.

"You fuckin' love it, huh?" he pants against your skin, flicking your nipple with his tongue before sucking it back into his mouth. "So dick drunk you don't even care how messy you are. Just wanna use me, huh?"

You moan, loud and helpless because he's right, and he knows it. Your hips start to stutter, legs trembling again, your pussy tightening, fluttering around his cock as the mess gets wetter, thicker, louder.

"Shit, baby," he groans, pulling off your breast with a pop, mouth shiny, chin wet. "You gonna cum again for me?"

Every bounce, every needy grind, your clit drags across his skin—bare, swollen, soaked and throbbing with every push down. Roy's dick hits deep, stretching you so good it punches these desperate little sounds right out of you, gaspy and high pitched like you can't even help it anymore.

"Jesus," he pants, watching the way you lose yourself on top of him. "Look at that sweet pussy takin' me. You're fuckin' soaked."

And he's not lying. Slick's everywhere—on his cock, his thighs, his lap. Every bounce makes a sound, obscene and hot, like you're making a mess on purpose.

You ride him harder, sloppier, wetter, grinding your clit down with every drop of your hips until your whole body starts trembling.

"Oh f-fuck," you whimper, thighs twitching, pace stuttering. "I'm— Roy—I'm gonna—"

You freeze when it hits. Body going taut, legs shaking, arms wrapped around his shoulders as your pussy squeezes his cock so tight it's fucking criminal. You're buried on him to the hilt, not moving, just trembling and whining against his mouth like you can't even breathe through it.

"Shit," Roy hisses, barely keeping it together as he feels you pulse and flutter around him. "Jesus, baby—fuck—"

And then you crash into him, mouth hot and messy on his, moaning as your orgasm wrings you out. Your hips twitch helplessly in his lap, clit rubbing against his skin, and your mouth? Sloppy. Tongue in his mouth, licking over his, gasping for air through the kiss like you can't bear to be even a breath away from him. He groans into your mouth, hands on your hips as you twitch and pulse and soak him all over again.

You keep kissing, hungry and breathless and messy, tongues sliding, teeth grazing, your lips slick with spit and moans. He pants against your mouth, and you breathe into his, like the two of you forgot how to survive without the other's air.

Your chest brushes his with every pant, sweat blooming between your skin and his shirt, and you don't even notice the way your hips move, grinding just a little, clit dragging against his skin again like you can't stop even if you tried. Sensitive? Sure. But greedy? Oh, that's the problem.

Roy feels it. That soft, subtle grind, that soaked little pussy rubbing all over him again. And something in him just snaps.

"Can't get enough, huh?" he mutters against your mouth, hands sliding down to grab your ass, rough and greedy. "You just got off and you're still grindin' on my dick like a little slut."

You gasp, cunt clenching on him so tight his eyes nearly roll back.

"That what you are, pretty thing?" he murmurs, voice low as he squeezes your ass. "Just my dick starved little thing?"

And then he starts to fuck you. Not slow. Not soft. Just hips slamming up into yours, rocking the damn car, his thick cock sliding deep—every inch—and pulling back soaked with your cum. You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, your whole body jolting with every sharp thrust as he fills you over and over.

"That's it," he groans, hips slapping up into your soaked cunt, watching your tits bounce and your mouth hang open. "Take it. You wanted it, fuckin' take it."

And you do. Your pussy is so messy, all slick and stretched around him, every thrust pushing slick out around the base of his cock. God, the stretch, the thickness, the drag of every vein as he sinks back in, bottoming out with this deep, filthy slap that knocks another sound out of you.

The car rocks, the windows fog, and the rain is just background noise because the only thing that matters is his dick, splitting you open over and over while you moan for more.

His hips drive up hard, sharp, and mean, each thrust punching his cock right into that sweet, aching spot inside you. That thick stretch knocks your breath loose every single time, and the way he's fucking into you? It's filthy. Slick sounds fill the car, obscene and constant, every deep stroke bullying your poor pussy until you're just a mess of gasps and whining.

Your thighs tremble around his hips, your pussy swallowing his dick like it's starving, and he watches the way you start to fall apart—body rocking, tits bouncing, mouth hanging open as you pant and stutter like you can't form full words anymore.

“Fuckin' look at you,” he groans, one hand gripping your ass before slapping it again, sharp enough to make your pussy clench tight. "Riding me like my little slut. That it, baby? That what you are now?"

And you whimper, full body shudder as you nod, moaning yesyesyes, voice barely holding together.

"Y-Yeah, baby, yes, more—more, please—fuck, don't stop—"

He nearly loses it right there. Because never in his wildest dreams did he think this would be you, so needy and soaked and wild on his cock, moaning as he called you a slut in his car while the rain pounded against the windows. That sweet girl who's smiling at him in the mornings and kiss the bridge of his nose before pulling on lip gloss?

Now she's writhing in his lap, fucked dumb and gasping for more, bouncing on his cock in a supermarket parking lot while the car rocks like a damn metronome to the rhythm of his thrusts.

It's fucked. He knows it. It's insane and filthy and wrong in all the right ways, but God, you're clenching so tight around him, so warm and wet and messy, and you keep moaning like you're addicted to it, like you need it deeper, harder, more.

Your pussy is dripping—hot, tight, squeezing him like it's the only thing you were made to do. Every stroke drags against your swollen walls just right, all thick and slick and deep, and you can't even think anymore. Your brain is fucking gone, wiped clean by the way his dick hits all those spots that make your knees weak and your spine curl.

You're not riding sweet Roy right now. You're taking dick from feral Roy—sweaty, possessive, handsy, swearing under his breath as he slaps your ass again and watches you bounce on his cock like you're in heat.

And the worst part? You love this man so fucking much it hurts. Your thoughts are a blur, just God he's so deep, fuck I love him, his dick is so fucking good I'm gonna cry, and then nothing. Just heat and slick and the way his cock stretches your pussy like it always does, makes you feel full and owned and completely wrecked.

"Gonna fuckin'—fuck, baby, shit—"

Roy's hips stutter, driving up into you with all the control of a man hanging by a thread. His hands squeeze your ass tight, keeping you still as he thrusts, messy and erratic, deep enough that your pussy flutters from the inside out, that squelching noise rising as your slick runs down his cock and drips onto his pants.

His moans are rough and loud, desperate little groans right in your ear as his cock twitches inside you, and then he cums.

Hot and thick and so much, flooding your pussy like his body couldn't hold it back another second. You feel every pulse of it coat your insides, feel how his dick throbs deep inside you—tight, twitchy little spasms that spill another rope, then another. It's fucking endless.

He groans, hips pressing deeper like he's trying to keep every drop in you, like he needs to. You swear you can feel it drip around his cock, warm and slick, pushed out by the sheer amount he's giving you, and that's it, that's fucking it. You cum the second his load hits your walls.

Your body arches, tight and trembling, nails dragging down his shoulders as you gasp out his name, again and again, a broken little chant. Every pulse of your cunt feels like it's gripping him tighter, like your body is desperate to wring out every last drop of his cum.

You're shaking, legs trembling uncontrollably, heat blooming low in your belly and spreading until you feel flushed all over. It doesn't stop, not right away. Pleasure keeps rolling through you in waves, drawn out and overwhelming, like your body is trying to keep up with how deep he is, how full he's made you.

You're both a mess. Panting, gasping, sweating through your clothes. The car is fogged up like a freaking sauna, windows hazy, rain still falling in sheets around you, but neither of you care. The air is hot and sticky, your skin damp, your dress wrinkled and tits still out, and Roy's got his forehead pressed to yours, eyes closed while he's catching his breath.

His cock is still twitching, still leaking cum, still hard. You bounce on his dick lazily, little rolls of your hips, grinding more than riding, just letting him stay buried inside while you chase every last twitch of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around him with every slow grind, and Roy groans, voice wrecked and full of praise.

"That's it, baby," he pants, his hands gripping your hips. "Look at you... fuckin' takin' me like that. You're perfect, you know that?"

You moan softly, so wrung out, your skin flushed and sticky with sweat. And when the last few waves pass, when your pussy stops fluttering and you can breathe again, you lean in and kiss him. Messy. Desperate. Sweet.

It's all tongues and gasps, moaning into each other's mouth as you lick into him with the last bit of energy you have. His lips are wet and swollen, his tongue lazy against yours, but he kisses you back like he means it, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and stay there. The kiss slows down into something soft, your moans turning into little whimpers between parted lips, your fingers sliding into his hair just to hold him close.

And when you finally pull back, you're both breathing hard, your forehead pressed against his, dizzy and soaked and completely fucked out.

Roy brushes his nose against yours, thumb rubbing circles into your thigh as he murmurs, "You good, pretty thing?"

You nod, lips still parted, your whole body limp and heavy as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, making a little noise that's halfway between a hum and a whimper. He wraps his arms around you without thinking, protective and soft. He kisses the top of your damp head, your sweaty temple, the curve of your neck, slow and adoring, voice low.

"My sweet girl... you wore yourself out, huh?"

You melt against him, letting your eyes flutter shut as he rubs your sore ass in slow, soothing circles, then traces lazy shapes up your spine. Another kiss lands on your shoulder, then your jaw, and you shiver even though the car is hot, fogged up windows and all.

"Still with me?" he whispers, lips brushing your ear.

You nod again—barely—and he smiles against your skin. You stay just like that for a while, the mess between your thighs sticky and warm, but you don't care. You never do. Not when it's him. Not when it's Roy.

Because he holds you so gently even after fucking your brains out like you're fragile, precious, something to be protected. His hands stroke your back in slow, easy passes. His mouth presses kisses wherever he can reach—your shoulder, your jaw, the top of your head. And he lets you melt into him, all boneless and spent, because the weight of you in his arms is one of his favorite things in the world.

It takes a few minutes before you stir, lifting your head with that familiar sleepy pout on your face, lashes clumped with mascara, lipstick long gone. Your makeup is a mess, your hair is worse, but your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt while your lower lip juts out just enough to make him chuckle.

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone before kissing your forehead with a little grin.

"Ready to go home, trouble?"

You whine like the spoiled little thing you are, nose scrunching as you murmur, "M'tired... and I want waffles."

That makes him laugh. A soft, low sound that rumbles against your chest. "Do you now?" he teases, brushing some damp strands of hair away from your face.

You nod again, eyes big and heavy lidded, your pout not going anywhere.

"Alright," he says, so soft it nearly breaks your heart, "I'll make you some, yeah?"

Your face lights up, even though your body is still limp with exhaustion, and you reach up to cup his face with both hands. You're smiling, giddy and still a little drunk, and you brush your nose against his before whispering, "I love you."

Then it's kisskisskiss—sweet little pecks on his lips, one after the other, until he's laughing again, all breathless and warm and completely in love with you.

You both chuckle, noses bumping, breath mingling, arms still wrapped around each other in a fogged up car in the middle of a random ass parking lot. Two idiots. Hopeless. Ridiculous. A mess. But two idiots in love.

And yeah, he's just as whipped, because his hand cradles the back of your head and he leans in again, brushing his lips over yours with one more whisper, low and amused, "I love you too, you needy ass gremlin."

You sigh happily, like he just read you a bedtime story and he laughs under his breath, kissing your nose before you finally shift on his lap.

And that's when he slides his hands down to help you up, slow and careful, both of you hissing a little when his cock slips out of your pussy. His cum follows in a slow, sticky drip down your thighs, still so warm it makes you shiver.

"Jesus," Roy mutters, half under his breath, watching it leak out of you like he didn't just put it there. "Fucked you full, huh."

You're too dazed to answer, whimpering just a little when he reaches across to pop the glovebox open, fishing out the pack of wipes he keeps for very specific reasons.

He's gentle with you. Always is. Even when he's smirking. Even when he's cocky. He cleans between your legs first, his fingers brushing against your clit on purpose—the bastard—and you twitch, letting out the softest whimper as your hips buck away from the touch.

"Still sensitive, huh?" he teases, not even trying to hide his grin as he slips your panties back up, making sure they sit snug over your still aching pussy. "Told you not to be a greedy little slut."

You don't even have the strength to sass him back, you just make a tired little noise, halfway between a moan and a sigh, as he helps tug your dress back into place.

But of course he doesn't just leave it at that. No, he's got your dress halfway up again in two seconds flat, thumbing at your nipples and watching you squirm.

"Just checkin' they're still cute," he says, voice all low and smug.

You glare at him. Weakly. When he's finally satisfied with his torment, he kisses your forehead and lifts you with ease, setting you back in the passenger seat. One hand cups the back of your neck, the other pulls your seatbelt across your chest and clicks it in, all gentle and careful and warm, and the domesticity of it nearly makes you fucking melt.

You blink sleepily at him, lips parted, and mumble something that sounds like thank you, but it's mostly just a soft little noise.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, kissing your temple as he goes back to cleaning himself up. "Try not to pass out before I drive."

He wipes himself down with another swipe from the glovebox stash, tucks himself back in, adjusts his slacks, and sighs like he just climbed a damn mountain. Then he reclines the seat back to normal and starts the car, glancing over just in time to see you let out a massive yawn and snuggle your cheek right into his bicep.

You're out cold five minutes into the drive.

Not that he minds. You drool a little on his sleeve—nothing new—but he doesn't say a word. He just glances at you every now and then with that stupid little smirk, his heart full and his shirt soaked. You grunt a few times in your sleep, twitching every time the car bumps over a pothole, but still, he doesn't wake you until the car pulls into the driveway. You blink awake all confused and pouty, trying to figure out where the hell you are.

"C'mon, baby," he says softly, reaching over to brush your cheek, "we're home."

You grunt like a cave gremlin. He grins like an idiot. It's still raining—hard—and Roy frowns at the windshield for a beat before reaching for his coat and stretching it over to you. Not to hand it over. No, he wraps it over your head and shoulders himself like you're some delicate little loaf that needs to be kept warm.

"There," he says, adjusting the collar so it sits around your face like a hood. "Perfect. You look like a pissed off burrito."

You give him the most unimpressed look you can muster under about twenty pounds of coat, lips pursed and cheeks flushed pink, one side all wrinkled from how you passed out on his arm. Your hair is flattened and your face is sleep mussed and pouty, and you're still so warm and dazed from earlier you can't even bite back a tiny whimper when he opens the door.

"Don't start," he warns, snorting. "I haven't even picked you up yet."

He darts out first into the downpour, and by the time he opens your door, you're already groaning dramatically. But he grins, fully entertained by your little complaints and leans in to scoop you up in one fluid motion.

"You're so dramatic," he mutters, tucking you tighter under the coat as he kicks the door shut and locks it one handed.

"Don't be mean, 'm cold," you mumble into his neck.

"No shit, it's raining," he says, jogging up the porch steps with you in his arms. "Who told you to go full noodle mode?"

The coat flaps around you like a makeshift tent as he crosses the porch and finally gets you under the cover of the awning, rain dripping off the edges. You nuzzle closer, whining into his shoulder while he unlocks the front door, one arm still solid around you.

Once you're inside, you shiver, clinging to him as he shuts the door behind you and shakes his hair out like a damn dog.

"Okay, down you go," he murmurs, easing you back onto your feet.

You sway a little, legs wobbly, feet unsteady, and he steadies you with both hands, watching you blink like a sleepy, pouty baby deer.

"Tired little thing," he says, already pulling his coat off your shoulders.

He lets it drop somewhere near the door and crouches in front of you, his hands already reaching for the straps of your heels. He slips one off carefully, then the other, thumbs pressing into your arches in soft, lazy circles. You hum, low and happy in your throat, leaning against the wall like you might melt into it.

"Good?" he asks, glancing up, thumbs still rubbing.

"Mhmm."

That's all he gets, just a noise. But your eyes flutter like you might pass out standing up, and that's enough for him to finish what he's doing, kick his own shoes off, and hook his arms under your thighs and back to lift you up again.

"Alright," he says, kissing your damp hair, "time to rinse off the car sex."

He carries you into the bathroom like you weigh nothing, strong arms holding you close while your cheek stays squished against his chest. The second the light flicks on, your face scrunches, a sleepy little glare aimed toward the overhead bulb.

"Yeah, yeah," Roy murmurs, already grinning, "I know. Too bright for your sleepy eyes."

He sets you down on the counter gently, his big hands guiding your ass to the cool marble as you pout. But you don't complain, just sit there all soft and quiet, blinking slow like you might actually doze off upright. Your thighs part a little, enough to keep him standing between them while he leans over to twist the shower knobs.

Steam starts to rise almost immediately, warmth curling in the air while the sound of the water fills the room.

He turns back around to find you half slumped against the mirror, your eyes glassy, makeup smudged in the corners. You look so sleepy and thoroughly used, hair all messy, your mouth parted in a tiny, exhausted sigh and he still thinks you're the prettiest thing he's ever fucking seen.

"C'mon," he murmurs, fingers slipping under your straps, "let's get this off, yeah?"

You hum. Barely. He tugs your dress down gently, letting it fall in soft fabric puddles around your waist before sliding it off you completely. Then your bra, your panties, and he doesn't even sneak a grope in, just kisses the top of your knee as he tugs the last bit of lace away.

You're quiet as he undresses, only swaying a little as he guides you off the counter and into the hot spray. The second it hits you, you shiver a little, but Roy's there, stepping in behind you, arms already coming around your waist.

"That's it, baby," he whispers, swaying you both gently under the stream, "good girl."

He washes you slow, reverent. No teasing, just warm, soapy hands smoothing over your hips, your belly, your back. You let him move you like a doll, grumbling sleepy nonsense every now and then, but melting into his touch all the same.

He whispers soft praise against your temple the whole time—"so fuckin' sweet" and "love you like this, all calm" and "my good girl"—and every time, your sleepy face scrunches like you're trying not to smile.

The water is hot and soothing, and you melt into his chest, letting him do everything. He washes your hair so gently, fingers threading through wet strands, whispering more little praises into your scalp while you hum, barely clinging to consciousness.

When he finally gets you out, he wraps you up like a little burrito again—clean and warm this time—and guides you back onto the counter. You're blinking up at him, cheeks puffed out, mouth slightly open like you might whine. But instead, you just tip your face up when he reaches for the makeup remover.

"There she is," he whispers, so gently it nearly undoes you. "Let's get that raccoon shit off, yeah?"

He takes his time, thorough but soft, wiping the mess of mascara, lipstick, and smudges from your cheeks, your nose, under your eyes. Every few seconds, he pauses to press a kiss to some part of your face: your temple, the corner of your mouth, the space between your brows. You don't even have the energy to joke about it. You just let him. So much of you always lets him.

And you sigh. Happy. Soft. After he helps you into fresh panties, fuzzy socks and one of his softest shirts, he tugs his boxers on, runs a towel through his damp hair, and bends to kiss your freshly cleaned cheek.

"Still up for waffles, baby?"

You nod, already wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your face to his chest.

"Alright," he chuckles, "let's go."

He laces your fingers with his and leads you downstairs, your socked feet silent on the hardwood as he guides you into the kitchen. He lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, the cold surface making you squeak a little and squirm before settling, legs swaying softly, eyes brighter.

Roy starts moving around like he's done this a thousand times—and he has. Grabbing the mix, flicking the stove on, pulling out the chocolate chips without asking because of course he remembers. Your chin rests in your palm as you watch him, something warm and fuzzy swelling in your chest.

There he is. Your man. Tattoos shifting with every movement of his arms, back muscles flexing under the shirt he tugged on last minute, that red hair still a little damp and messy from the shower. And he's humming lazily while he stirs the batter, acting like this is just another Saturday night instead of the aftermath of fucking you breathless in the car.

And every time he passes you, he presses a kiss somewhere on you. Your forehead. Your nose. The apple of your cheek. One after the other, like he has to, like he can't not. And each one makes you smile a little harder, shoulders looser, like your whole body is humming with the quiet joy of being known. Of being loved like this—completely, instinctively, without needing to ask for any of it.

The waffles come out golden and warm, all soft in the middle and crispy on the edges, with the chocolate chips just starting to melt and go gooey. Roy plates them like he always does, on your favorite stupid little pink plate with the chipped corner and the faded pattern because he knows that's the one you want, even if you'd never say it out loud.

He grabs two iced teas from the fridge, the good kind, the kind you hoard when he gets them on sale. No asking. No checking. Just knows. He pops the caps, places them gently next to the plate like he's building a shrine to your late night post sex hunger, then turns back to you with a little smile.

Still perched on the counter like the spoiled gremlin you are, you blink up at him when he steps close again, settling between your legs. One hand rests on your thigh, the other cradles your jaw, thumb brushing the edge of your cheek, and then he leans in and kisses you.

Soft and lazy, the kind of kiss that doesn't rush. Tongues licking slow into each other's mouth, lips parting wider, deeper. His nose brushes yours, his palm spreads over your cheek, your hand slips up into his hair, and neither of you moves for minutes. Just lips against lips, tongues sliding, shared breaths and soft sounds of contentment. The kind of kiss that feels like a love letter written with mouths instead of ink.

But then, your stomach rips through the moment like a fucking chainsaw in a chapel. The noise echoes around the kitchen like it's got surround sound.

Roy pulls back, blinking, and then he laughs. Soft and warm and stupidly fond as he rests his forehead against yours.

"C'mon, let's feed you before you turn into a little monster," he murmurs, kissing the tip of your nose, smiling against it when you scrunch it at him.

Before you can say anything, he's already lifting you up again, strong arms under your thighs and back, carrying you like he always does when you're too sleepy or too bratty or too full of love to walk. You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling into the crook of it, inhaling the clean, still warm scent of him from the shower.

He carries you to the couch, lowers you gently and grabs that stupid, soft ass blanket you love—the fuzzy one that smells like home and clings to you like Velcro—and wraps it around your shoulders like a cape.

"Be right back, trouble," he says with a wink, brushing his hand over your cheek before heading back into the kitchen.

And you stay there, wrapped in your favorite blanket, sunk into the couch, blinking sleepily after the man who just kissed you like he's never gonna stop loving you. Who's making you waffles like it's a Tuesday night chore. Who laughs when you're hungry and looks at you like you're magic.

He comes back with your plate in one hand, the two iced teas in the other, and somehow manages not to spill or drop anything as he sets them down on the coffee table like the multitasking king he is. Then he plops down next to you with a little grunt—legs wide, arm slung over the back of the couch, and that tired but content little sigh he always lets out after sex. Without a word, he grabs the remote, turns to you with a smirk, and holds it out.

You glare dramatically, snatch it from his hand like the petty gremlin you are, and stick your tongue out at him as you immediately start scrolling. You don't even realize you're doing it, how your tongue pokes out, just a little, totally unconsciously while your tired eyes flick from one show to the next. But Roy notices. Oh, he notices. And he has to physically stop himself from losing it laughing right then and there.

Instead, he just watches you with that stupid soft smile on his face, the kind that makes his chest ache because God, he loves you. Loves every messy, sleepy, grumpy, ridiculous inch of you.

He picks up the fork, slices a perfect bite of waffle—chocolate chips gooey and warm, a little drizzle of syrup pooled at the bottom of the plate—and holds it up to your mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And without even glancing away from the TV, you open your mouth automatically like a sleepy little bird.

"Jesus," he mumbles under his breath, smiling so wide it hurts, "you're gonna kill me one day."

You hum around the bite, clearly pleased, finally landing on some absolute garbage show neither of you will admit you've seen three times already, and settle deeper into the couch with a sleepy little sigh.

He feeds you slow—one bite for you, then one for him—back and forth like that until the plate is wiped clean and both iced teas are half empty on the table. You almost doze off between bites a couple times, chewing with your eyes closed, tongue poking out when you concentrate on chewing like you're solving a math problem instead of just eating a waffle. And Roy? Roy is fucking gone.

Three hours later, you're half sprawled across him, heavy limbed and warm. The blanket you love is tangled around your legs, your cheek is pressed against his chest, one arm tucked under your chin like a pillow, the other resting limp across his waist. You're watching a movie you've seen at least twenty times, mumbling the lines like you're trying to mouth along but you're too sleepy to even finish a sentence.

Roy's got one hand rubbing slow circles up and down your back. The other is loosely curled around your thigh, his thumb dragging little patterns on your bare skin.

But he's not watching the movie. Not really.

He keeps thinking about earlier. The car. The rain. The mess you made of each other. The way you came all over him, how he couldn't get enough of you, how you looked riding his dick—drunk off it, needy, desperate, beautiful. And the shit he said.

Slut.

It slipped out in the heat of it, rough and raw, and you didn't flinch, didn't even blink, just moaned like it lit a fuse inside you. But still, Roy's never been big on that word, not with you. He's always leaned more toward pretty thing, baby, sweet girl, even when he's balls deep and wrecking you, it's usually good girl, that's it, take it.

But that? That was something else. Something filthier. And he can't help but replay it in his head, brow furrowed slightly as he stares at the TV, not really seeing it. He shifts a little under you, brushing his fingers through your hair gently.

"Trouble?"

No response. For a second, he figures you're out cold, knocked out by food, orgasms, and the warm house. He's about to let it go until you hum sleepily, barely lifting your head, chin propped on his chest, eyes squinty and confused like you weren't totally sure you heard him.

"Hmmm?"

He exhales softly, tangling his hand in your hair like it grounds him. "You sure you're okay?" he asks, voice lower than usual. "After... y'know, the car and—"

You giggle. Like a soft, syrupy little giggle as you nuzzle into his jaw and kiss him there, warm lips brushing against stubble.

"Okay? That was so fucking hot, baby."

Roy chokes on his own breath. "Jesus Christ."

You grin at him, teeth and all, and purr, "We have to do that again."

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, half groan, half laugh, and looks at you like you've lost your mind.

"I hope you're not talkin' about the car sex."

You widen your eyes like of course you are not talking about the car sex.

"I'm talking about all of it," you say, cocky as hell, like you weren't just bouncing in his lap a few hours ago.

He blinks at you for a second, still rubbing your back, still unsure how you manage to short circuit him like this, and then he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead.

"So... you're not upset I called you a slut?"

Your eyes flutter closed, your lips curve, and you shake your head slow. "Upset?" you mumble, already halfway back to sleepytown. "I loved it."

You don't last much longer after that. A few more minutes of pretending to follow the movie, a few little content hums, the occasional sleepy blink that lasts way too long and then your body just gives. All soft limbs and boneless weight, melting fully against him like you belong there—because you do. Your head tucks into the curve of his neck, cheek smooshed against his collarbone, one arm looped around his middle.

You're out cold within seconds. When Roy glances down, you're already breathing deep, little puffs of air against his skin. Your mouth is parted just slightly, a smidge of drool threatening to spill from the corner, and your hand twitches once on his shirt before going still.

Then you snore, just loud enough to make him snort. He shakes his head, but his smile is fucking huge, soft and crooked as he brushes a few strands of hair from your damp forehead. You cling to him tighter in your sleep, snuggling impossibly closer, leg thrown over his thigh like you're trying to fuse into him, like your body has got a homing signal for his.

He exhales slowly through his nose, kisses your temple, and lets his head rest back on the couch.

"Jesus," he mutters under his breath. "I called you a slut and you fuckin' loved it."

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head again like he still can't believe it, still trying to wrap his brain around the whole night but yeah, that definitely happened.

And yeah, it's definitely happening again.

139 notes · View notes

lynhub · 2 days ago

Text

₊⊹garage assistance ── FT. DARYL DIXON

✎ᝰ.daryl's library ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤㅤ

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤㅤ. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ intro.ᐟ ࿐ྂ

⋆˚࿔ENTRY FROM LYN.ᐟ this was supposed to be a work for something else and you can tell at the start but it ended up in a whole other direction, hopefully you guys enjoy! i also didn't proof read so ignore mistakes and errors. ━love, lyn

⋆˚࿔OVERVIEW ━ you were supposed to be helping daryl fix up his bike, but your outfit choices distracts him from the task at hand.

⋆˚࿔WARNINGS ━ smut per usual, mention of public sex, there is no foreplay if that is in need of a warning, no protection, piv, i think that's it?, kind of off script for daryl but also kind of not, he's sweeter in this

mature content, 18+

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤㅤㅤ. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ enjoy.ᐟ ࿐ྂ

you can’t remember the last time you wore a dress, definitely some time before the world went to shit. there hadn’t been a reason to since. but alexandria is experiencing a rare moment of peace; the weather is warm, the sun is out, and things feel as normal as they can be. you find the sundress tucked away in a bin at the back of your closet. the soft cotton, patterned with little yellow flowers, a flickering memory of summers passing through your mind.

you can’t resist sliding the fabric over your body, letting the cotton drape against your skin the way it was meant to. the dress fits — maybe a little short, but that’s alright. it’s hot as hell outside anyway. you pause in front of the mirror, giving yourself a once over. everything’s in place.

once you’re satisfied, you head downstairs, offering a quick goodbye to carol, who is once again stress baking again. the smell of something sweet wafting through the air. you’d offered to help daryl with the bike repairs today. not that you actually know a damn thing about bikes, but it’s an excuse to hangout with him. alone.

your tattered sneakers scuff against the pavement as you make your way through alexandria, following a familiar path toward the garage. a path you have taken countless times, one just to see him. the streets are fairly busy, others passing you polite greetings and nods.

the garage comes into view, the wide open door indicating someone’s inside. you can hear the clatter of tools hitting metal, the low grunt of frustration, definitely daryl.

“darly?” you call out, stepping closer, eyes scanning the garage. you don’t see him at first, just the motorcycle he’s been working on, it’s bulk blocking the view.

“here.” he mutters, voice is low and rough. he doesn’t bother looking up because he doesn’t have too. he knows your voice better than he would care to admit.

you round the bike to stand on the same side, his back to you, allowing you the opportunity to check him over unnoticed. his hair clings to his face, damp with sweat, strands curling at the nape of his neck. his hands and arms are covered in grease, fingers filthy from the work. that signature angel wing vest snug to his shoulders.

he looks good. but then again, daryl always looks good.

“you been out here long?” you hum, settling onto a rolling stool behind him.

“yeah,” he grunts in reply — low and simple, like him.

he knows damn well you aren’t here to fix bikes. you won’t be much help and he knows that. but he doesn’t care. in all honesty, he wants your company more than anything.

you knock something over on the table by accident, a can of nails toppling over to the ground in a loud, clattering mess that rips through the quiet of the garage.

he finally glances over — eyes drawn to the sound, to you now couched down, turned away, picking up the nails scattered across the floor. that’s when he sees it.

the sundress.

his breath catches. daryl swallows hard, throat bobbing as his gaze roams slowly over you. bare shoulders, the dip of the dress at your back, the hem swaying just above your thighs. it seems like he no longer has any thoughts in his head except for you.

he shakes himself out of the daze, his voice sounding out through the noise of metal nails clattering into the can. “i didn’ invite you ‘ere to make a mess,” despite the gruffness there’s a hint of affection in his words.

“it’s not like i was trying to make a mess,” you mutter as you quickly finish gathering the nails and brushing your hands off on your dress. turning back around to find him looking at you. his gaze is heavy and intense, as if he’s trying to read your mind. you can’t help as your brow furrows, caught off guard. “what?” you ask.

“nothin’,” he shakes his head, eyes trained on you. “jus’... yer wearin’ a dress.”

“well i’m glad you know what a dress is,” you say teasingly, a smile spreading across your face. “do i look bad?”

“definitely not,” he grunts, turning back to his bike already as if he didn’t just knock the air out of you with two simple words.

“so… you like the dress?” you ask, prodding slightly, trying to not sound too eager. the desire to crawl into his head for just a second, to figure out what he’s actually thinking.

he just grunts, a low sound from the back of his throat, but you know what it means. an affirmation. after all the years, you’ve gotten good at translating his silences.

“you know not everyone speaks caveman, right?” you grin, stepping closer until you’re directly behind his knelt down position, peeking over his shoulder at the bike like you have any idea what you’re looking at.

“yer distractin’ me,” he gruffs, voice low and rough. he glances at you over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours, they’re darker than usual — bluer, more eager, like you’ve done more than just bother him while he works.

“and what are you gonna do about it?” you hum, the words bolder than you intended, an unmistakable challenge.

you watch as daryl’s eyes darken even further, the cogs in his brain visibility turning as he weighs his next move. his gaze seems to sharpen, assessing you like the hunter he is.

“yer sure you wanna find out?” his words drawl thicker now, low and slow, heavy with a promise.

“i think i do, dixon,” you mumble, there’s no going back now.

daryl’s eyes flash —- wild, unrestrained. the tools drop from his hands with a loud clatter. he’s across the garage in a heartbeat, standing in front of you, close enough to practically steal the air from your lungs. he towers over you, gaze sweeping over your face like he’s searching, or rather checking for any trace of doubt.

“you sure?” he mutters, his voice on the cusp of a whisper.

“i want you, daryl.”

that’s all it really takes for daryl’s lips to be on yours. he’s never been one to be so brazen in his actions, always guarded and calculated, but now there’s nothing careful about him. he hoists you up onto the dusty table like it’s instinct, like he’s done it a million times in his head. tools scatter to the floor with harsh clanks, but he doesn’t stop.

his mouth crashing against yours with a bruising intensity, as if he’’s trying to make up for lost time. your arms loop around his shoulders, fingers tangling in the damp locks. you can’t resist pulling him closer.

rough hands grip your thighs, sliding up the hem of your short dress without hesitation. you shiver under his touch, goosebumps rising where his calloused palms touch. there’s a need that’s been building, restrained for too long.

in this moment, you don’t care about the dust, or grease, or the open garage door. all you care about is him.

“daryl please,” you whine at him, voice desperate and breathy, the words falling from your lips before you are able to stop them

something in him snaps. the restraint he always displays starts to slip away from him. his hands move with a different kind of urgency, one that is rougher, needier. it’s like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t touch every single inch of your body. his lips leaving yours only to trail lower, dragging along your jaw before finding that sensitive spot at the junction of your neck. his mouth presses there hard, sucking until a red mark blooms, claiming you without saying a word.

his hands finally drift from your thighs, moving to the waistband of his tattered, faded jeans. his fingers fumble with the button and zipper, clumsy in a way that makes a tingle shoot through your spine – simply because it’s not hesitation, it’s desperation.

you can’t help but watch, breath caught in your throat as he finally shoves them down enough to free himself, the fabric bunching chaotically at his hips. he doesn’t care, doesn’t need to undress all the way. he just needs to be inside of you the way he’s imagined almost every night since the day you met.

his rough fingers slide beneath the hem of your dress, finding the waistband of your panties. he drags them down slowly, teasing you and himself as he barely holds it together. the fabric hits the ground in a pile of forgotten fabric. both hands return to your hips, his grip firm as he yanks you forward, your ass resting right on the edge of the table, thighs spread around him.

his eyes flick down between your thighs, a low groan vibrates through his chest.

he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it — he’s mesmerized, caught between awe and need, his eyes locked like he’s scared to blink and miss the view.

it takes real effort to pull himself away, to tear his eyes from the sight that has his jaw clenched and hands twitching. but he does. his gaze drags back up, landing on your face. his eyes roam your face, checking to make sure you are still okay. you can see it in his eyes, the silent question.

you okay?

all offer him a firm nod, your bottom lip between your teeth.

he takes your nod as his sign to continue. without a word, he steps closer, guiding himself to your entrance — the blunt head of his cock presses against you, slow and careful. his eyes never leave your face.

as he begins to push in, it’s with a gentleness that doesn’t fit his rough exterior. he’s always been all grit and bark, yet this? this is a whole other side of daryl. he’s patient. intentional. like he’s afraid you’ll break if he’s not careful. his hands grip your hips, keeping you steady and grounding himself, his jaw clenched with restraint as he sinks in inch by inch.

the stretch stings at first, your body working to accommodate him. your fingers tightening around the edge of the table, but you don’t stop him. your legs fall wider in invitation, offering him more space, more of you.

he groans, low and deep, as he sinks deeper, eagerly accepting the silent offer.

once he bottoms out, he doesn’t move. he stays still, rooted deep inside you, his hands keeping you in place. a silent display of respect for you as he waits patiently for you to adjust to him. his chest rises and falls as he exhales slowly, jaw clenched tight with restraint.

“you okay?” he grunts, voice laced with something soft — concern hidden beneath the gruffness. his gaze roves over your face, watching every flicker of your facial expressions, waiting for a sign that you’re ready for me.

after a long moment, your hips grind against him—a clear signal that you finally want more. And he’s more than willing to oblige.

his hands grip your hips tighter as he slowly pulls out, the drag of his cock against your tight walls sending a ripple of pleasure through you both. a breathless whine leaving your lips as he settles into a slow, deliberate pace.

every thrust made to draw out your pleasure — measured and purposeful. he wants you to feel good, to feel how much he needs you.

he finally picks up his pace as your whines shift into moans, head tipped back in ecstasy as he focuses solely on you. his hands keeping your hips in place as the sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the garage. your fingers gripping at his shoulders as he hits that spot inside of you just right. “right there, daryl,” you gasp, and he just groans.

his hands grip tighter, like he can’t bear a second away from you. his thrusts are steady but rough, fueled by the way you moan his name. “yeah?” he gruffs, voice tense. “that feel good, sweetheart?”

you nod, barely able to catch your breath from his repeated thrust. “so good, feels so good, daryl.”

he groans at your words, his forehead brushing against yours gently. “ain’t never wanted anythin’ like this,” he mumbles, more to himself rather than to you — but you heard it, and your chest ached.

your arms move to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. “then take it daryl,” you mumble to him, lips brushing against his. “i’m yours.”

his breath stutters before he crashes his lips on yours — the kiss is messy, rough, consuming. his hips snap into yours with vigor, every thrust driven by one goal: to make you cum around him. he’s desperate for it, aching to see you fall apart on his cock, to know he’s the only one driving you to the edge of release.

you’re close — and he feels it. he can feel the way your walls tighten around him, practically trying to drag him in deeper. he can feel the way your moans turn breathless and broken, almost as if you were losing yourself to the pleasure. his thumb dibs down between your thighs to find your clit, rubbing tight circles with just enough pressure to send you barreling over the edge.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he groans against your lips. “wanna feel you. know it’s me makin’ you feel this damn good.”

your fingers go back to digging into his shoulders, back arching into him as the tension in your stomach seems to tighten even more.

“daryl,” you gasp out, your voice cracking as pleasure rips through you.

“let go for me,” he grunts, hips stuttering as he practically edges himself closer. “need to feel you cum, sweetheart. need it so damn bad.”

his words send you over the edge. the world practically goes white behind your eyes as you cum around him, walls clenching hard as waves of pleasure crash over you — practically drowning you. you cry out his name, voice thick with pleasure, with emotion that sends daryl over the edge with you.

with a ragged groan,, he buries himself as deep as he can in you, hips jerking one last time as he follows you over the edge. his head drops to your forehead, breath hot and uneven, as he lets himself spill inside you.

your eyes drift lazily to the wide open garage door, a grin tugging at your lips. “you forgot to shut the door.” you hum, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

“guess we put on a hell of a show,” he huffs… “ain’t sorry about it.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤ. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ finished already? ࿐ྂ

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fanficsandcodposts · 3 days ago

Text

Thinking about Simon seeking out his ex-girlfriend after their break up 2 years ago

Please, don't go, Simon.

That was the last thing you begged as tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. Simon said nothing as he turned and threw his rucksack over his shoulder. The door felt heavier that night; it took more force to shut it behind him. He hurried to his car and drove off, only glancing once in his rearview mirror. You deserve better; it's all for the best. Simon told himself. You needed someone who could love you properly. It is all his fault you fell for him, a man who doesn't know how to love. He knew you noticed the hesitation when he would answer, "I love you too," but it wasn't because he didn't mean it. He did love you, but it terrified him.

Now, he stood in front of a quaint home in the suburbs. The sun has set, and only the street lamps illuminate the small piece of paper with your home address written on it. Johnny had forced the issue for Simon to reconnect with you again; being estranged for two years, Simon had all but imagined it was too late to tell you how sorry he was. Still, to this day, he loved you more than anything, and he hated his past self for running away from the best thing that ever happened to him.

Simon took in a deep breath. He felt too exposed without his mask, but he hoped you would see how serious he was—no more hiding. He was nervous to see your face again. He wondered how you might have changed in the two years since he last saw you. Do you still wear your hair long, or maybe you cut it short? Do you still get red in the face when you accidentally snort when you laugh at something you find hilarious? Most importantly, though, will you still have love in your eyes when you see me again after all this time?

Simon stopped at your bright maroon front door and placed the small piece of paper in his jacket pocket. He reached up his right hand and produced a loud knock on the wooded door. He held his breath as he heard footsteps approaching from the other side. He nervously looked down at the ground as the door swung open, then looked up to see you. You looked just as beautiful as the day he walked away. You stood staring at him with wide eyes before you finally spoke, "Simon?" Simon stood stone still, unable to speak; his heart was racing so quickly he worried you could audibly hear it pounding in his chest. He took in a breath to form a word that fell dead on his lips. A man rounded the corner holding a healthy-looking baby. "Whose knocking at this hour?" You turned to look at the man and child, and before you could turn back, Simon had already begun to hurry down the steps to your front porch.

"Wait!" You yelled as you shut the door behind you and ran after Simon. He almost made it to the road before you grabbed onto his strong bicep. "Stop running from me!" You managed to choke out. Simon turned to you, but he wouldn't meet your gaze. He stared down at the cracked cement when he spoke. "I'm sorry."

"That's it?" You stared at him, crossing your arms tightly. "It's been two years since you disappeared, and you've come all the way here just to say you're sorry?" Simon finally gained the courage to look at you again. His eye found yours, and his heart began to sink. There was that same sorrowful expression, only this time, it bared more weight. "Ya, just wanted to apologize for what I did."

You tilted your head to the right as you gazed upon Simon's features, highlighted by the street lamp above. He showed up on your front porch without a mask, exposing his scars and his slightly crooked nose you adored. You had collected snapshots of all his imperfections that made him unique. Kept safely in your mind's memory, in hopes you would never forget them. "I'm sorry; I should have never come here." Simon looked over to your home and then back to you as his jaw flexed. "You have a beautiful family." You looked at him, puzzled; then, finally, it hit you. "Simon, that was my brother and nephew." Simon shifted his stance and stared back at you. Relief washed over him, and he finally relaxed his shoulders. "Oh, I…I just assumed. Sorry." You stood comfortably in the silence before you spoke again. "Yeah, well, after you left, I couldn't stay in the apartment anymore. I moved out here and have been renting this beauty for a little while now." You looked over to your home proudly before you looked back over to Simon. "It's pretty close to the zoo, so my brother and his family are staying with me to save some money."

Simon cleared his throat with a quick cough and looked around the quiet neighborhood. It was in an attempt to compose himself; while the worry was gone that you were with a new partner and child, he still needed to make this long overdue apology count. "Well, are you going to say anything or just stand there?" Your voice broke through the heavy silence. "Look I..I fucked up, big time. I'm sorry. If there is anything I can do for you to forgive me, say it, and it's done."

You looked up at Simon, eyes still filled with heartbreak. You were so angry at him for leaving; every other partner paled in comparison to him. You loved Simon Riley for the man he was. You had thought you had worked through most of the insecurities and given him enough kisses of praise to cover his fears of inadequacy. You accepted all of him, but that had to have been terrifying. Maybe you pushed too far too quickly. You meant it when you told him you loved him, and you thought he felt the same. You can only do so much for someone who needs to work on themselves. Sometimes, it's letting them figure it out on their own. However, he's done a good job of working on his ability to apologize, it seems.

"Do you love me, Simon?" You asked straightforwardly, getting directly to the question you wanted confirmation on. "I do, I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone." He answers with a slight grin and half-hearted chuckle. You take a deep breath in your nose and exhale out your mouth with a huff. "If I let you back in, Simon, I swear to God, if you walk away again, I'll never forgive you." You say as you poke your finger on Simon's chest. "My love, the only way I'd ever leave you again is in a body bag." Simon holds onto your hand that was poking him, and his left-hand reaches up to caress your cheek. Automatically, you fall into his touch, closing your eyes at the sweet, welcoming feeling. Simon retracts his hand, and before you can protest, he pulls you into a warm embrace.

"Not a fan of crowds, but I would like to go with you to the zoo, if you'd have me?" You hum into Simon's chest as you breathe in his scent of gun-power and sandalwood. "Sure, we can go together, Simon."

#call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod

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inkjam-moon · 2 days ago

Note

Could be a threesome with Jin and Hobi?

I FORGOT TO POST THIS YESTERDAY I FELL ASLEEP LMAO

All you’ve wanted for the last few days has been to relax. By yourself. You finally have a few minutes to yourself, in your own bed. Your boyfriend Hobi is making dinner in the kitchen with his friend Jin. Jin. God, fucking Kim Seokjin. He’s been unusually touchy today and you can’t for the life of you figure out what has gotten into him, but it certainly isn’t helping the constant swirling in your abdomen the last few days.

Jin’s fucking attractive, okay? Especially since he’s been letting his hair grow out. You asked Hobi not long ago if he would be ever interested in having a threesome, and he said sure, but when you told him you wanted Jin as a third, he just laughed and said “I can try, doubt it though.”

Men are useless sometimes.

You were hoping maybe he’d agree before the rest of their friends return from their military service at the end of the month and your house becomes the usual hangout again. You shrug, if you can’t get what you want, you’ll just have to do it yourself. All you need is five minutes… maybe ten. And with both of them busy, you finally have a chance.

You root through your bedside table drawer searching for your favorite toy. There it is! You take a deep breath and relax back against the pillows, pressing the power button and feeling the vibrator whir to life in your hand. You immediately slide it down your body under the waistband of your shorts and panties, feeling it touch you directly as you purr in delight. You tease yourself for a little bit before finally slipping the toy inside your entrance, relishing in the feeling as you push your shirt and bra up with your free hand and fondle your breast roughly. God it feels so good. It shouldn’t take you long at all at this rate.

“How much longer?” Jin asks from where he checks his phone across the counter.

“I dunno, maybe like five minutes?” Hoseok responds, stirring the food in the pan again. “Not much longer.”

Jin puts his phone back down and sighs. Feeling a bit awkward, but knowing each other so well, Hoseok immediately catches on. “What’s wrong?” He turns to face the older boy.

“Nothing just… can’t stop thinking about what you asked earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jin sighs again. “Did Y/N really ask to have a threesome? With me?”

Hoseok snorts. “Hyung, I wouldn't lie to you about something like that.”

“But why me? Why now?”

The younger boy shrugs. “You’d have to ask her. Maybe because she knows the house is going to be busy when the others come home from service?”

“But why me?” Jin repeats.

“Don’t know.” Hoseok takes the pan off the hot burner and places it on a cool one. “She thinks you’re attractive and knows you think she is too, so why not?”

Jin narrows his eyes in suspicion. “She wouldn’t know unless you told her.”

“It’s not like you’re inconspicuous about it.” Hoseok throws his hands up in defense when he sees Jin’s stare. “I’m just saying, it’s kind of obvious sometimes. Is that why you’ve been all over her today?”

“I haven’t been all over her.” Jin scoffs. “I do have respect for your relationship, you know.”

Hoseok just rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying hyung, she’s giving you a in, and it won’t be around for much longer, so do with that information what you will.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“I’m happy when she’s happy.”

“That’s such a bullshit answer.”

“If she wants it, it’s fine with me.” Hoseok assures him with a smile. “Not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

Jin sighs again, raking his hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it…”

“Whatever you want, hyung.” Hoseok turns away and opens a cabinet to pull out some plates. “Now, can you go tell her that dinner is ready please?”

Jin nods as he stands up. “Where’d she go?”

“I think she went to our room to get something.”

Jin heads out of the kitchen and into the living room, turning down the hallway and walking all the way to the end where your bedroom sits, surprised to see the door is closed. Maybe you went to take a nap? He knocks lightly, but when he doesn’t hear a response he cracks the door open and peeks his head inside.

The room is dim, with only a string of lights above your bed turned on, but that doesn’t stop him from seeing exactly what you’re doing. He hears your heavy breathing, hears the faint buzzing noise; he sees your hands, one down your pants, one gripping your breast, he sees your eyes closed, your head thrown back, chest heaving as your pleasure yourself. He smells the faint smell of sweat and the sweet smell of you in the air. Holy shit. He can’t tear his eyes away from you. He knows he shouldn’t be watching but god you’re so hot like this. He takes one last look before forcing himself to close his eyes, backing away and quietly shutting the door.

Damn. Jin adjusts his suddenly hardening length in his pants. Should he let you finish? No, he doesn’t know how long that could take, and Hoseok might get suspicious. Jin pauses a moment to calm himself down before knocking loudly and purposely on the door again.

“Y/N-ah?”

“Shit.” He hears you curse, your hushed panic on the other side of the door before you respond. “Y-yeah?”

“Dinner’s ready.”

“O-okay! I’ll be out… in a second.”

He hears your heaving breathing and has to choke back a whimper as he walks up the hallway, trying to relax before crossing the living room back into the kitchen. “She said she’ll be out in a second.” Jin states as he joins Hoseok at the table.

“Why is your face so red, did you run back and forth?” Hoseok jokes.

“Hm? Oh, uh no, just got a little hot is all.” Jin states, taking off his sweatshirt for effect. It’s not a lie. He can feel his cheeks burning as the image of you plays over and over in his head.

Hoseok’s eyes go wide at this. “Hyung, your neck is really red. Do you need some ice?”

Jin shakes his head as you walk into the room. “I’ll be fine.”

You’re so close. So very close to your high. It feels amazing, you want nothing else at this moment. Nothing else except-

Knock knock. “Y/N-ah?” It’s Jin.

“Shit.” Your eyes open wide, quickly moving to silence the buzzing of your vibrator before responding. “Y-Yeah?” Your response is breathy.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Damnit. “O-okay! I’ll be out… in a second.” You can hear him walk away and flop back down against the pillows. Fuck… Well. You’ll just have to finish this later.

You sigh, tucking the toy back into your nightstand and slamming the drawer shut in frustration. God you hope Jin didn’t hear you. You check yourself in the mirror, putting all of your clothes back into place before you walk out of the room and down the hall into the kitchen.

“Mm smells delicious.” You state, placing a kiss on Hoseok’s cheek as you walk past him to take your seat between him and Jin. When you sit you smile at Jin only to notice just how red his face is. “Jin, are you alright? You’re really red.”

“So are you, baby.” Hoseok states, looking over you with worry and reaching out to place his hand over yours, feeling how hot your skin is. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You reach a hand up to feel your cheeks are still flushed from your activities.

“Do you want me to turn the air up? Is it too hot in here?”

You shake your head to reassure him. “No, I’ll be fine in a minute. Not sure what this is.”

The three of you eat in relative silence, which is strange because usually Jin won’t stop talking. You chance a few glances in his direction, but every time your eyes meet he quickly looks away, blushing.

After dinner and dishes, the three of you retire to the living room to watch a movie. You curl up against Hoseok’s side where you sit between him and Jin, who is seated as close to the arm of the couch as he possibly can be. His body language is screaming that he doesn't want to be close to you, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. He wasn’t like this before dinner. About halfway through the movie, Jin gets up to use the bathroom and you pause it for him before laying yourself across Hoseok’s lap, still feeling a bit of your arousal from your unfinished business from earlier.

“Hi gorgeous.” Hoseok coos in your ear as you stretch across him.

“Hi baby~” You smile as his whispers turn into soft kisses behind your ear and down your neck. You sigh softly at the feeling of his lips on you, but when he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, you know these kisses have a purpose. “Hobi,” you warn. “Jin’s still here.”

“So?” Hoseok’s hands slip under your shirt and begin to wander along your abdomen. He tugs on your earlobe with his teeth and your eyes squeeze shut as it takes everything in you not to give in to him.

“So, I’m pretty sure Jin doesn’t want to watch you fuck me on the couch.”

“Well, maybe not just watch.”

You shoot up in surprise for the second time tonight at the sound of Jin’s voice to see him sitting back down in his seat on the couch. “Jin!” You try to push Hoseok off, but he’s insistent. “I didn’t hear you come back. Sorry, Hobi was just stopping.” Hoseok’s lips leave your neck, but he stays close enough that you can feel his breath on the wet spots he made, and it sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

“No, I wasn’t.” Hoseok smirks, placing a hot kiss against your pulse point. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”

You stop fighting Hoseok to look up at Jin, puzzled. “No, I didn’t.”

“He said ‘maybe not just watch’.”

“Wait, really? Hobi asked you?” The room goes quiet as you wait for Jin’s answer; as if everything around you is made of glass, and if any of you move the wrong way, the moment will shatter around you.

Jin’s face flushes bright red. “Yeah, he did and, w-well… I mean.” He glances up at you from beneath his long lashes. “If it’s okay, I think we could t-try.”

You’ve never seen Jin this shy before, usually he’s a little cocky, but this side of him is so soft. You climb back into your seat, sitting on your knees in between the two of them, facing Jin. “Are you sure? Tonight?”

He nods, finally meeting your gaze, a little steadier with his decision. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

You squeal with delight as you throw your arms around his neck, surprising Jin as you hug him tightly. “I’m so excited!” You exclaim as you sit back on your knees. “Can I- Is it okay if I kiss you? Hobi, is that okay?”

“Fine with me.” Your boyfriend chimes in from behind you.

Jin rubs his neck, a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous before he nods. “S-sure.”

“Don’t worry.” You offer him a sweet smile. “We’ll go slow, yeah?”

He lets out a breath, relaxing a little. “Okay.”

You reach a hand out and cup Jin’s cheek before leaning closer to him, feeling his eyes on you which makes you laugh. “Close your eyes, don’t make it weird.” You giggle.

“Oh, right. Sorry it’s been a while.”

He closes his eyes and waits for you. You rub your thumb across his smooth skin, studying his features up close for just a moment before you focus on his lips, his beautiful plump lips. You silently thank Hoseok for being the best boyfriend before closing the gap and pressing your lips against Jin’s. He’s stiff at first, and you chuckle, smiling against his mouth. You slide your hand down to his neck as you repeat the motion and feel him relax this time, responding to the brush of your lips this time with his own. His lips are luxurious. You thought Hoseok’s lips were pillows, Jin’s are deluxe. You can’t help it when you tilt your head, wanting to deepen the kiss, but Jin allows you, following your lead.

All the thoughts float from your mind as you gently push Jin back against the arm of the couch, leaning over him and straddling one of his legs. You feel his hands slide up to your waist as his lips part, his tongue snaking out and asking for access to your mouth. A small moan escapes you as you let him in, feeling his tongue press against yours, the taste of wine still present from dinner.

Jin’s hands squeeze your waist, a few of his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt and rubbing your bare skin. You’re so lost in the feeling of Jin’s hands and mouth against you that the feeling of Hoseok’s hands on your ass makes you jump. You break the kiss with Jin and look over your shoulder at your boyfriend, his hands rubbing your ass over your shorts.

“Your ass looks so damn good in these shorts.” He groans. “But I didn’t realize how hot it would be to watch you make out with Jin hyung.” To emphasize his statement, Hoseok presses his hips against you, and sure enough through his shorts you can feel the beginnings of his erection.

You sit up on your knees, turning your head to capture Hoseok’s lips this time. He responds quickly, hungrily, his hands sliding around to your front and slipping under your shirt, tracing over your stomach before moving up and giving your breasts a squeeze as you gasp into his mouth. Jin sits up, his hands grabbing your waist as he rubs his thumbs over your hips, mesmerized by your reactions to Hoseok’s touches, memorizing every brush of skin that has you keening.

Hoseok’s mouth moves down to your neck as he grabs your shirt, yanking it off over your head and tossing it onto the floor. It takes no time after that for him to unclasp your bra, pushing it off your shoulders so that it falls into Jin’s lap. Hoseok grabs Jin’s hands from where they rest on your waist and drags them up your body, placing them on top of your breasts before his own hands slide back down your stomach.

Jin squeezes you gently, making you whimper for more. His hands grab you roughly a few times before he rubs his thumbs over your nipples, finding out how sensitive they are as you practically melt in his hands, his head dipping down to press kisses along your abdomen as he does. Hoseok’s mouth is working the expanse of your neck and shoulder, distracting you while his fingers pop open the button of your shorts and then slide the zipper down. He wastes no time slipping a hand under the fabric of your underwear and dipping his fingers into your already soaked folds.

“Hobi~” You breathe out his name as he circles your clit with experience. He knows exactly what to do to get you riled up for Jin, and he’s pulling out all the stops tonight.

Jin sits back to see what Hoseok did to get you to make that noise, and is shocked to see his friend's hand already in your pants. This causes him to get up on his knees with the two of you, pinching your nipples repeatedly as he reconnects his lips to yours. You feel Hoseok use his free hand to take off his shirt behind you, and then wrap that arm around your waist, pressing the warmth of his skin against your back and his hard length against your ass as his shirt dangles from his preoccupied forearm.

You quickly tug at the hem of Jin’s shirt, silently begging him to take it off. He smirks against your mouth before removing the fabric from his body, pulling it past your lips as he tosses it to the floor. You quickly pull him against you, wrapping your arms around his neck, as you press your breasts against his chest, his tongue slipping back into your mouth. One of Jin’s hands slides down with Hoseok’s into your shorts, but he moves farther, his long fingers finding your entrance quickly and tracing merciless circles around it before he finally plunges two of them deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck~” You whine, burying your face in Jin’s neck.

“Oh my god you’re wet.” Jin mumbles in amazement, making Hoseok chuckle.

“Told you hyung.” Hoseok finally rubs the pad of his middle finger across your clit and your legs shake from the pleasure as you moan into Jin’s skin. ”Isn’t she tight?”

Jin pumps his fingers inside you a few times as you hold him closer. “Incredibly.”

Hoseok pulls his hand away and you whine in protest, moving to look back at him, but he quickly shushes you. “Let’s move to the bed baby, it’ll be more comfortable for you.”

You nod, allowing Jin to also remove his hand before grabbing it and slipping his fingers into your mouth, cleaning your juices off of him as he watches, awestruck.

“Goddamn.” Is all he says as he watches you stand up. You take his hand and tug him along with you, leading both boys back to the bedroom where you quickly climb onto the bed to wait.

Hoseok sheds his shorts, leaving him in just his boxers before gesturing for Jin to do the same. Jin obeys, sliding out of his jeans before joining you on the bed, watching as Hoseok digs through his nightstand for a few things, giving you a chance to look down at Jin’s lap, seeing how hard he is in his boxers, his length straining against the thin fabric, much like Hoseok’s is. Jin looks thick and your body shivers as you think of what he’ll feel like inside you.

When Hoseok finds what he wants, he jumps on the bed with you both before pushing you onto all fours. He grabs your shorts and tugs them down, depositing them onto the floor before giving your ass a nice smack.

“Hyung, will you do the honors?” Hoseok plays with the waistband of your only remaining garment. “Or would you rather stare at her ass all day.” He jokes when he sees where Jin’s gaze is focused.

Jin’s hands move slowly, but purposefully, grabbing the waistband of your underwear and tugging them down over your ass inch by inch, groaning when they reveal your dripping wet center. He pulls them off the rest of the way, his eyes never leaving you.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Hoseok puts a hand on each cheek and spreads them apart, showing you off to his friend as you arch your back for them.

“So pretty…” Jin breathes.

“Hobi…” You whimper, feeling a little two exposed as both of these boys stare at your most intimate parts.

Hoseok moves back towards your head, cupping your chin so that you’re looking up at him. “Are you okay with Jin hyung feeling how tight your sweet pussy is baby?” He asks softly, a vast difference from how dirty his words are. You can only nod, your core throbbing at the thought. “Good girl. Hyung lay down.” Jin obeys quickly, laying down on the bed next to you as Hoseok moves behind you, whispering in your ear. “Go ahead and ride him, baby.” He punctuates his sentence with a quick kiss on your cheek, watching as you move towards Jin, grabbing the elder boy’s waistband, much like he did to you moments ago, before tugging the fabric down his legs, watching his cock finally spring free against his abdomen.

The sight of it has your mouth watering as Jin’s face and chest flush a bright pink color. You quickly move to straddle his waist, leaning down to press a sweet kiss against his lips before sitting back up and taking hold of his length and lining it up with your entrance. You look down at him one more time and he nods, watching you closely as you sink down onto him.

A moan escapes your lips as Jin slips inside you, guided by your wetness. You shut your eyes as you sink down farther, your face and body rapidly growing hot from the feeling of him inside you as Hoseok whispers words of encouragement from behind you, also enraptured by the sight of Jin’s cock disappearing deep inside you.

“Fuck~” You groan when he’s fully seated inside of you. He feels incredible, stretching your walls so deliciously. Jin isn’t fairing much better than you, his chest already heaving as his hands fall to your waist, squeezing it tightly to beg you to move.

You get the message and begin to move your hips, bouncing yourself up and down on his length, bracing your hands on his chest to help you move. He feels so good inside you, you think you might burst, your skin pricking with an electricity that has you panting already. After a few minutes of bliss, you feel Hoseok’s hand on your lower back, rubbing small circles against your skin before he pushes you forward into Jin’s chest, exposing your ass to him. You sit up enough to look over your shoulder to see Hoseok has his boxers off already as he scoots up to you between Jin’s legs, rubbing his own cock to slicken it for you.

“Couldn't let you two have all the fun.” Hoseok teases before you feel his tip at your puckered rim. “Deep breath baby, just relax for me. You know the drill.”

You nod, giving him the okay before resting your forehead against Jin’s, relaxing the lower half of your body as the younger boy pushes his hips forward. He goes slow, like he always does, but tonight, your ass seems more greedy than usual, taking his length in quickly, with little to no need for adjustment. You groan as he continues to push in, sometimes you forget how long Hoseok is until he does this, but god does it feel good, so good that you have to hold back your orgasm, not wanting to cum just yet. You force all your tension into your hand as it squeezes the sheets next to Jin’s head, and Jin rubs your side soothingly, until he starts moaning with you, able to feel Hoseok push against his own length through the barrier of your body.

Once Hoseok is as deep as he can get inside you, all three of you let out a heavy breath as his hips still for a moment.

“Damn you took me in so well tonight baby.” Hoseok praises, his fingers tracing along your spine. “You look so good with all your holes filled.”

“Hobi, p-please~” You whine. He places a hard smack against your ass before he starts to move his hips, slowly pulling out of you before quickly pushing in again, and under you Jin begins to do the same, fucking up into you as Hoseok pulls out and vice versa. They quickly pick up the pace, both boys gripping your hips, as you whimper between them.

God you’ve never felt so good, so full. With both of their cocks spreading you open relentlessly, it’s no surprise how quickly you’re brought up to the edge of release, especially with how close you were earlier. Just a few more well placed thrusts and then…

“Fuck~” You come undone, your entire body shaking from the pleasure that pulses through you. Your orgasm is quick as the boys continue to fuck you through it, your legs growing weak as it passes.

“Damn that was fast” Hoseok slows his pace to a near stop. “You came already?” You can only nod, burying your face in Jin’s neck. You hear Hoseok chuckle behind you. “You want another one, don’t you baby?”

“Yes~” You whimper against Jin.

“Hyung help me get her on her side.” Hoseok instructs.

Both boys maneuver you onto your side without slipping out of you, sandwiching you between their bodies as Hoseok grabs your right leg and holds it up for you. You wrap your arms around Jin’s neck as they both start up their pace again, their delicious breaths and moans now directly in your ear as they fill you over and over again, now both sliding into you at the same time.

It burns for only a minute before your core decides it feels good again, letting the pleasure back into your senses as your nails dig into Jin’s back. You pull your head out of the crook of his neck before pressing your mouth to his again, sliding your tongue past his lips to taste him for a moment before turning over your shoulder and doing the same to Hoseok, switching between both of them as one of them focuses more on kissing you, and the other focuses more on fucking you.

It isn’t long before Hoseok’s breathing get heavier against your lips, he always gets so worked up when you let him fuck your ass, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum already. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours before squeezing your thigh where he’s holding it, signaling to you that he’s close and to focus on Jin.

You turn to the older boy, your tongues tangling as you squeeze around his length, earning a delightful groan from the back of his throat. His own breathing is ragged, signaling his own impending release in closer than you thought.

“Jinnie~” You whine, using the nickname you only pull out for special occasions. He only grunts in response, too far gone. “Jinnie cum for me, please.” You beg. “I want to feel you cum.”

“Fuck…” The hand that was helping Hoseok hold your thigh up suddenly slides down your body to your center and begins drawing quick, tight circles on your clit, just the way you like, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. “You first.”

“J-Jin~ Hobi~!” You cry out as your second orgasm slams into you without warning, your entire body convulsing from the sheer bliss and gratification, panting as your high swirls around and through you.

Hoseok is next, you hear him groan behind you as he slams into you one last time, filling your ass with his hot release as he kisses your cheek, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

With the feeling of your core contracting ruthlessly around him, Jin isn’t far behind, thrusting into your wet heat once, twice, three more times before the pleasure takes hold of him too, and you feel his cum spurting inside you as he moans softly, rutting against you to drag out the sensation.

The three of you lay there tangled together for a long time, reveling in the after-glow euphoria as your breathing returns to normal. Jin is the first one to speak.

“Holy shit… I had no idea it would be like that.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That was…”

“Amazing.” Hoseok finishes for him.

“Really amazing.” Jin nods.

You hum your agreement, absolutely loving the feeling of being sandwiched between their spent bodies. “Can I ask what made you decide?” You turn to face Jin and Hoseok sits up on his elbow, curious to hear the elder boy’s answer.

“H-honestly?” Jin looks away sheepishly. “I kind of saw you earlier…”

“Saw me? What do you mean?”

“Before dinner? When you were, you know… in here… alone.”

You gasp with realization and smack his arm. “You perv!”

“It was an accident! I swear!”

“And you didn’t say anything?” You smack his arm again laughing.

“What am I missing?” Hoseok asks, clearly confused.

“Tell him, Jin.”

Jin sighs. “When you asked me to get Y/N for dinner, I knocked but she didn’t answer and the door was unlocked so I just… you know, peeked my head in. and she was, well…”

“Masturbating!” You squeal.

“I couldn’t see anything!” Jin admits. “Only your boob was out!”

“Was she using her vibrator?” Hoseok giggles, unphased by the situation when he sees that you are too. Jin nods. “Baby I told you not to use that when we have people over. Remember what happened last time? And now this time?”

“I really needed it!” You pout. “And I didn’t even get to finish.”

“Wait, what happened last time?” Jin asks.

“Nothing!” You deny.

“Joon got a bit more of a show than you did.” Hoseok explains.

“Hobi!”

Hoseok shrugs. “What? It’s true.”

“Yeah, but Joon didn’t get to fuck me after.” You point out. “Trust me if you guys used that thing you’d see why I use it so much.”

“Hm, maybe we can do that next time.”

“Next time?” Jin questions again.

“What, we still have a few more days before the boys come back.” You state, rubbing your hand along Jin’s chest. “Was once enough for you?”

Jin looks at you before looking over your shoulder at Hoseok for an answer.

“Don’t look at me.” Hoseok smiles. “She asked you.”

“Fuck, how do you resist her?” Jin smiles back at both of you.

Hoseok shakes his head, placing another smack against your ass. “I don’t.”

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