#the only thing he had to go off of was I was dressed fem as shit

[synvil]

Recording.. // Pornstar! Rafe Cameron x Pornstar! Fem! Reader

a/n: welp, this will be interesting. there’s so many ways this can go but let’s see which one i came up with.

synopsis : getting to work with the famous, most current top rated star in the porn industry was a dream. Let’s see how it turns out for you. pornstar! au!

warnings : explicit content! penetration, choking, cunnilingus, afab!, multiple orgasms, roughness, squirt, etc.

“[Name], thank you for coming. Did you get the email regarding today’s content?”

Shaking hands with the producer, you share a smile and nod, pulling away. “Yes, I read through it. I’m alright with it all.”

“Great, and I take it you’ve already showered and cleaned up before coming? Any questions?”

You nod again to the first part before thinking for a moment and parting your lips to speak. “Actually, I just wasn’t sure who I would be working with today. That wasn’t clear in the email.”

The producer exhales in understanding and hears the door opening, “Actually, we needed confirmation that he was willing to come in today,” and a tall, muscular and toned male steps out, a towel around his neck and in nothing but boxers and some gym shorts. “And there he is. Cameron!”

“Cameron..?”

The male who steps out looks up as he ruffles one end of the towel against his head of hair. “Yeah?” Almost immediately, he locks eyes with you.

Holy shit.

THE Rafe Cameron. The highest rated star in the industry, where every man and woman alike would kill to meet the handsome stud, much more, to work with him.

Must be a fever dream.

When you first auditioned to be part of this industry, Rafe was only beginning to take off.

And now that you were one of the top stars alongside him, Rafe was the highest rated one, and every woman who ever had the chance to work with him, could never be the same.

Thing is, you had no idea what he was like. Was he rude? The pompous kind of asshole? Or was he charismatic and sweet? But if he was, was it just for show?

Many thoughts begin to flood your head until you realize the producer and Rafe have been talking, and now he’s coming over to you, hand extended out.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y-Yeah, same.” You mentally curse yourself out for your anxiety and shake his hand but even more for the fact that you have yet to make eye contact, still glazing over his dripping wet bare body.

Rafe follows your gaze and gives a small chuckle, a charming smirk following it as he pulls away. “Sorry, thought I’d get a quick shower in before we start our filming.” He explains but you just manage a small nod. “R-right.”

The producer comes over and pats both of your shoulders. “Alright, now that we’ve done introductions, we’ll go over the scene once more with both of you and we’ll get started. Rafe, why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get [Name] prepped?”

Rafe nods and gives you one more glance, his smirk still shining at you. With a wink, he turns away and takes his leave.

That smirk.. it sends a certain thrilling feel of desire in your stomach and you swallow thickly before attempting to focus your gaze on the producer, who begins to instruct the scenes.

Here you are..

“I can’t believe you!”

You shout as you slam the front door behind you, just for it to open a second later and Rafe coming in. “God, you’re insufferable!”

The current scene was you and Rafe coming home from the bar, celebrating a night of a special occasion, you had gotten a promotion at work.

And now you were rushing inside, having caught your on and off boyfriend of two years, openly flirting with another woman right next to you, once again.

At least that what it looked like to you, but your boyfriend has cheated before, and you weren’t going through it again.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?!”

Rafe’s voice follows after you while you take off your heels and throw it his way. “Don’t fucking talk to me!”

He narrowly dodges the heels thrown at his face before the expensive bag in your hand is also aimed for his head.

“What are you doing?” He asks, catching the bag with a scoff as you retreat to the kitchen.

“Take it back. I don’t want it anymore, we’re done.”

“Done? So you’re just giving all the things i bought you, back?” Rafe looks at you in disbelief as you begin to take off the jewelry on your person and drop it on the counter with a clink.

“I’m done with second chances, you asshole. You can’t just do one nice thing for me, one night.” I curse, slamming my hands down on the countertop as I turn to face him.

Rafe calmly sets the bag down as he stands opposite of you of the counter and sighs softly. “Baby, you’re not thinking straight, just let me explain before you-“

“Before I what? Break up with you for the final time?” You pull off the bracelets until you’re finally free of any jewelry and slide it towards him. “Take it all back.”

This time, Rafe can’t help but curl his lips into an amused smile, as he watches you return everything on you that he had bought for you.

“All of it?”

You tsk and point to the doorway. “The heels are back there.” You remind him though he was obviously aware.

“Alright, everything.. then the dress is included, right?”

. . .

“W-What?-“ Clearly taken back, Rafe’s lips forms a smirk at your clear surprise.

“Last I checked, I bought that stunning black gown you’re wearing tonight.. to celebrate.. remember?”

His words cause you to purse your lips and you’re aware of his slow advances towards you as he rounds the island counter in the kitchen. Rafe doesn’t break eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on you as he does this.

Tensions are high and you know he’s right, but you also know what will happen if you take off the dress.

However, behind the facade, behind the cameras rolling, your inner self is ready to burst. Your cheeks are beginning to flush and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on your body, trailing up and down your figure. Whether or not he was in character was unclear but it still made you wet with arousal at the sight.

Reluctantly, you bring your hands up to the straps, pulling it to the side of your shoulders and down slowly.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily takes in your fully naked form, you weren’t even wearing panties.

Your lack of undergarments weren't part of the script, which you can tell catches Rafe by real surprise momentarily, but it quickly dissipates into a smirk instead.

“No underwear?.. How naughty of you..” he murmurs as he finally makes it to your side and you fight the blush that’s threatening to spread and darken further.

“Shut up-“

Rafe just chuckles at your reaction as his hands sneaks around your bare waist. He looks down from his height with a certain glint in his eyes. “Hey, i’m not complaining..” He says as his head moves to your neck, kissing your collarbone softly. “it's kinda sexy..”

What the hell, I can’t respond.

He’s so hot.. i need to talk.. but im speechless..

My heart is pounding so hard— Relax, [Name], this is all just acting- Rafe Cameron is just acting.

You’re overthinking, stay professional!

But the next thing you knew, Rafe Cameron’s lips were smashing against yours in an intense, heated kiss.

And the faint whimper that escaped your lips wasn’t fake.

Needy hands roam your body everywhere, his lips planted on your neck and kissing every inch of your skin. He raises his head up to your ear and whispers, his breath hot. “You good?” It was quiet and subtle, not loud enough to pick up on the microphone hanging near us.

You nod faintly, and he grins, not waste another second ravishing you.

All the prior anxiety and worries you had faded and you found yourself melting into the kiss, Rafe’s muscular arms lifting you up by the waist and placing you on the counter, the cold touch making you gasp.

That gasp was enough time for him to allow his tongue to slip in, the muscle exploring inside your mouth, making you moan lightly.

Every movement was full of passion, Rafe fondling your breasts, giving each mound a full squeeze. His fingertips pinch your buds, a gentle twist causing you to send a breathy sigh. Your hands find their way to his hair and tangle your fingers in the locks of his dirty blonde locks.

Rafe's low chuckles reaches your ears again as he travels up to nip at your earlobes. His right hand goes down to dip between your thighs, his index finger planting itself right at your clit. He rubs it a few times before whispering, "So wet.. I can't wait to taste your pretty pussy.."

It's almost a growl when he says it, sending rushes of adrenaline through your body and the boost of arousal grows further in you.

The Rafe Cameron gives you one last kiss on the lips before he slowly slides down to his knees, muscular hands grabbing a hold of your thighs tight and firm, and being face to face with your already glistening pussy.

He licks his lips and doesn't hesitate to dive face first, tongue taking a long lick to your folds before going down on you. "O-oh, fuck-" Your eyes flutter shut at the wet sensation, a sharp inhale slipping out.

Holy shit, it felt incredible.

Rafe's tongue moves in circles around your clit a few times before continuously slurping up your juices that leaked from your folds, devouring your pussy like he was starved.

Your hands prop up your body by placing it firmly on the surface under you, but you can't help the hand that goes to tug on his hair and push his face deeper in, which causes him to chuckle deeply, the action creating vibrations through you.

"Oh god, Rafe." You breathily pant, his grip forcing your thighs to remain spread while his tongue prods at your entrance, pushing in and out. "Shit.. you taste incredible.." He mutters as his nose buries itself against your clit. The feeling is enough to send you into overdrive, your head tossing back and a tightening in your stomach makes you cry out.

"R-Rafe, I'm so close-"

Grinding your hips against his face, you illicit a loud mewl of pleasure, your body sending shocks throughout as you tremble from a hard orgasm.

Despite your fluids gushing down his chin, he continues to delve deeper in, overstimulating you, causing your thighs to shake as you cry out again, making him laugh.

“Aw, was it too much for you, sweetheart?” He grins mischievously and you flush, ignoring the way your heart flutters at the nickname as you attempt to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips and stands up straight, ripping off his button up.

You can feel your mouth going dry at the sight of his toned, chiseled abs, the sweat glistening on his skin but what widened your eyes was the sight of his hardened bulge through his trousers, and you reach for the hem of his pants and pull him close, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Remembering you’re still on camera, you speak, “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” You mutter, staring into his eyes while your hands palm him softly, working to unzip his zipper. But your words only cause him to flash a smirk as he helps you undo his trousers. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart, by the time i’m done with you, you’ll forget about tonight.”

Crashing his lips with yours, you grunt but let him pull you even more towards the edge before pulling you down to the ground, his hands pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down.

He strokes himself a few times, your eyes unable to help itself to the sight and you swallow thickly.

“Something wrong, baby?” He hums in amusement and you turn away a bit bashfully. “Not at all.”

Turning you around so you faced away from him, he breaks into a smirk as he wraps his arm around to give you a hand necklace, your throat firm in his grasp. Lining himself up at your entrance, he leans in close and speaks lowly. “Good, because I don’t intend to stop.”

Without warning, he inserts his length inside and you cry out a noise of pleasure. Your back at arches and he tightens his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. “Heh, shit, you’re so fucking tight..” It almost seemed like it was actually Rafe saying this to you, instead of his character, but you didn’t have much time to think about it after as he begins to thrust into you from behind.

“F-Fuck-!”

One hand goes up to grab ahold of his arm that was holding your neck, and the other holds onto the counter for support. Every hard thrust causes your breasts to bounce as you two move in sync, Rafe doing deep but slow thrusts. His other hand is firming holding your waist but it travels up to grope your right breast, squeezing it hard.

Strings of moans are filling the room, and you momentarily forget the audience and cameras on you as all you can focus on is Rafe’s cock penetrating you hard.

He’s so deep.. i-i can’t think straight- it’s too much..

i’m so close- no wonder he’s so popular..

Rafe pulls away from your neck to use both hands to hold your hips firmly, his own picking up the pace as he begins to fuck you fast, the wet juices squelching each time your skin makes contact.

His hand goes down and his finger flicks your clit and it’s starting to send you over the edge. “Rafe..” Whimpers escape you as you dip your head down, clenching your fists on the countertop tightly.

“R-Rafe, fuck, you’re so deep.. i-i’m gonna cum-“

Rafe just smirks as he rubs your clit further, continuously thrusting you harder and faster until he feels a gush over your release and he pulls out, watching as your pretty glistening pussy squirts all over the floor.

“Fuck.” He bites his lip at the sight as he feels his own building up, and he spins you around while you’re panting. “Get on your knees,”

You fall to your knees to his command, and watch as he strokes himself fast and seconds later, his cum spurts its white salty liquid over your face, painting it like a canvas.

He pants heavily, catching his breath while you do the same, eyes fluttered shut at the warm liquid drips down.

“And cut! That was great, now get cleaned up you two!”

“You alright, [Name]?”

Still on the ground, you barely register a voice is talking to you while you appear dazed and confused.

Rafe has some skin-sensitive wipes in his hands, gently rubbing your face to wipe off any of his fluids before carefully helping you to your feet. “Did I go too rough on you?”

“I’m alright, thanks..” You whisper, feeling the exhaustion take over you. You lean onto Rafe, who holds you securely against his chest. “If it’s any consolation, today was fuckin’ amazing..” He chuckles lightly as he presses a tender kiss to your temple before guiding you to the couch where you can rest for a bit.

“Yeah?.. I think i understand why so many women gush over you after working with you.” You giggle weakly, sending an appreciative look when he sets you down gently, placing a blanket over you. He also chuckles lightly. “Yeah, but I think i’d like to work with you again, sometime soon. Maybe we can talk about our next filming together over dinner?”

Your stomach feels as though butterflies are doing flips inside you at the assumption of his words. “Are you asking me out, Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe merely shares a wink before pecking your forehead and getting up. “I’ll let you figure that out. Meanwhile, I’ll head to your room and draw you a bath to clean up.”

He takes your hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before smiling your way and then turning to leave. Maybe he wasn’t acting the whole time.

“.. Rafe Cameron just asked me out..”

Best filming job ever.

a/n: hello all, hope you enjoyed! :) merry christmas. i shall have the first post of my camgirl series out soon!! <3

i’m sorry if this seems like such a rushed abrupt ending but i wanted to finish this in time for christmas :)

[biteyoubiteme]

lemon cake

lemon drop!soobin x angel cake!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis In a world where everything is sugary and sweet, it is always fun to throw in a little twist. Quiet and tired Lemon Drop finds himself struggling to keep up with the day to day of single-parent life. Knocking on Angel Cake's door, begging for more than just help, might take care of two of his problems.  ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ warnings 🔞!!! fairytale au, lemon drop!soobin, angel cake fem!reader, slight spit kink, spit and cum as flavored aphrodisiacs, not really but chubby reader implied bc angel cakes body is soft and described as cake (skin indents and takes a few seconds to bounce back), mentions of masturbation (f! and m!), hand job, oral (m!rec), virginity loss, breeding kink, corruption kink, biting, cumplay/eating/snowballing, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

⊹₊ ݁ . wc: 8.9k . ݁₊ ⊹

၄၃ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: new emotion- the aces an: ive never been so happy to post a fic before! this was so very fun to work on with my moots. im honored to have worked alongside some absolutely incredible writers- actually wild that you let me in on this when you guys are just so amazing im a little dazed lol. and it was so fun to read everyones fics early and go back and forth on little ideas we found would benefit each others works. this was one of the best things to do and im so thankful for mae and her mind,,go read everyone elses fics pls pls pls they are so so good. anyways love my friends <333 [m.list] [strawberry shortcake m.list]

Angel Cake loved a routine. Most things could be broken down into a neat list of checkpoints, a simple to-do list set up like the recipe for a good day. She would get to the store early, prep the tables, and make sure all the clothes were neat enough for when she opened the door. Sometimes a new shipment would come in and she would take her time checking off every box as she added the new items to her inventory. She loved folding all the shirts up, stacking them, lining them all so neatly, and keeping them color-organized.

It wasn't until an hour later that the store officially opened for the day, the sweet buttery scent from the town's shops wafting in through the doors. Angel Cake would sit behind the register looking through catalogs to pick out new things to order, helping customers when they filtered in and lulled around the shop admiring her cute displays. Almost an hour after opening is when her favorite customer arrived. “Strawberry!”

She loved to shop, everything she wore was hand-selected by Angel, perfectly picked out from the catalog with her in mind. Even the pale blue shirt worn by Kai was bought within these four walls. The sweet blueberry boy gave a shy wave, apple dumpling, strawberry’s little sister, running right past the two of them to her favorite section in the store.

“I brought you your share from the bake sale,” the cream-colored box carefully held in hand. It was one of the small things Angel looked forward to, the soft cake and cream, the first bite of sweetness. “They took a little longer than expected to make but they turned out so good,”

Kai flushed a deep shade of blue, the color only highlighted by the blue strands of his hair. Even Strawberry was blushing, her eyes tacking onto apple dumpling to avoid looking at angel cakes questioning glance. “Berry why don't you help Dumpling pick out a new school dress, I see angels gotten some new ones in,”

It was all it took for Kai to follow after the giggling child, leaving Angel and Strawberry alone. “You won't believe the weekend I've had,”

“Was it beomgyu? I hear he went to the market for the first time in a month and acted so bitter over Cherry’s jam,”

“No no nothing like that, I just- berry and I-” If strawberry could get any more color to shade her cheeks she would, her flush traveling to her ears, “We kind of…”

“You kind of what?” Angel Cake had known for years that Blueberry had a crush on Strawberry. They spent most of their time together, strawberry baking and blueberry strumming his guitar. It wasn't news to Angel that either of them had fallen into a relationship without much effort.

“We kissed and then it wasn't kissing it was- well-” she was struggling to find the right words, the images of the night before flashing in her eyes as she stumbled through the words. “It was so much more than kissing, the both of us were just insatiable and he just- he tasted so good,”

“Tasted? Like when you kissed?” Angel tilted her head as if that would tip the right information into the right spot for her to understand. Tasting someone did not necessarily sound all too fun, she could picture the underwhelming flavor of blueberries and didn't find it appealing at all. Angel was never really a fan of how plain they could be, although she would never confess that to Strawberry who couldn't stop herself from remembering the flavor as if it was spilling right back onto her tongue.

“Not exactly-” but it was all Strawberry could say before the two of you turned to the sound of apple dumping giving a shout.

“Meringue!” the little blonde, dimpled-cheeked child, giggling as she ran to meet her friend, exclaiming just as loud, “Dumpling!”

Everyone in all of Strawberry Land knew exactly how close the two little girls were. Spending hours joined at the hip, playing games, singing songs, and laughing enough to fill the sweetest of souls with the happiness shared between the two of them. Most times lemon meringue would find herself sprawled out on the living room floor, coloring with apple dumpling while angel cake and strawberry tested recipes in the kitchen. The two little girls being the best test testers, never afraid to say when they didn't like something.

Most times meringue was over because Blueberry was the perfect babysitter, teaching the girls how to play the guitar, and finding fun ways to keep them entertained. He kept them busy while Lemon Drop, meringue’s dad, was off at the local college teaching. Lemon drop soobin was always a bit bitter, the slight tinge to his personality always brought forward with his obvious sleepiness. His under eyes slightly bruised from the late hours he spent bent over books, grading papers, and chasing after his little sweet tart. Rumpled shirt half untucked from his pants, butter blonde hair mussed, and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Angel Cake could feel her stomach flutter at the sight, he looked unbelievably warm, the kind of person you wanted to slip into and cuddle up. His lazy blinking eyes tracked around the sweet cream shop, deeply breathing in the sugary air.

Soobin wanted a nap, the warmth of the shop hugging him the second he breached the doorway. It was the favorite shop on the strip, the scent pulling him in amongst the rest of the fruity temptations. Buttery warmth hinted with vanilla cream beckoned him in that direction every time. It was easy to get lost in thought and follow his footsteps right to your door without realizing it when he followed his instincts. With an excuse to step inside, he could settle his craving without shyly backing away from the doorway, tinted pink from the recurring embarrassment of finding the shop irresistible. It was okay when Meringue was with him, but when he was alone, gazing through the sugar glass window to see angel cake folding or hanging clothes, it was a little more awkward.

He wasn't particularly known as the fondest resident in strawberryland. He was known to fight back, the sting of his arguments leaving people with a bitter impression of him. It was something that was expected of the debate professor, teaching the people how to stand up for themselves and find the proper form to an argument.

Angel found him to always cut back the sweetness of the people who took his class, leveling out their need to please in a way that she knew people who didn't take his class found caustic. Working in such a closed shop she heard more than anyone else did in the street market, the stalls so open the voices carried over to one another. No secrets could be kept when the air picked up every sound, enough so that anyone could get burned when gossip traveled. It made her shop the gossip harbor, the walls soaking in the secrets enough so that it set the illusion that nothing would make it to the unknowing subject of conversation.

Just last week she heard the run-around rumor mill turning out stories of frosty puff and gingerbread taehyun. The occasional talk of lemon drop, he's just so sour, listing ways to prove someone wrong. Can't we all just get along and not fight? He must be teaching that poor sweetheart of his such nasty things.

It had made Angel roll her eyes. Who cared if he was giving the rest of Strawberry Land a backbone, it was needed in such a basket of softies. But Angel knew she was in the same boat, still a product of her environment, soobin had moved back after finding himself in a big city amongst the rich and decadent. Nothing like the homegrown bunch he had been born from.

Strawberry pinched angel's arm, her soft flesh dimpling at the draw to attention. It always took a second for Angel's skin to bounce back from a tight hold, easily squashed like the cake from which she was named. “It wasn’t just kissing it was- I don't even know how to describe it, we tasted each other in places I never thought to before,”

“Like where?” it felt absurd to think of putting angel's mouth anywhere besides the mouth of a lover, maybe the back of their hand. Strawberry fiddled with the loose ribbon she used to tie a bow on the shortcake box, tugging the strand until it neatly fell away. Even for her name, Angel had never seen strawberry so pink, from ear to ear as she swallowed. “Down there,” her eyes flickered down to Angel's zipper, popping up just as quickly to see if Angel understood what she was saying.

“Berry!” Angel whisper-shouted, shocked, and intrigued all at once. Angel wasn't too dense, she understood to some extent how it worked but never thought about their being a flavor, or even that your mouth was used for more than just kissing.

“Angel, I don't even know how to describe how good it tasted- better than this,” she held up the short plump cake, the sweet cream swirled on top and donned with a little strawberry heart. “And it's hard to taste any better than this, I mean it's more addictive than sugar,”

It seemed hard to believe, especially when Angel sunk her teeth into the light dessert. The warmth of the sponge still lingers in between the ripples of fresh fruit. The frosting was her favorite part, dotting her upper lip in the clear mark of overindulgence, the creamy whips making her softly moan.

The sound echoed in the shop, just loud enough to be heard under the giggles of the girls, talking out planned outfits to wear to school tomorrow, but it didn't catch Kai’s attention, only catching the ear of lonely Lemon Drop Soobin. He watched the way Angel wiped at her mouth, sucking her thumb clean before rolling her eyes, “Hard to believe,”

“Well, you won't know until you try,” Strawberry muttered, closing the box of sweets and tying the bow back up.

“Ew no, I hate to say it but blueberry is kind of a flavorless fruit-” Angel Cake started looking over to where soobin and Kai stood. Angel stuttered in her speech, cheeks flushed and shoulders straightening under Soobin’s piercing gaze. Strawberry not even noticing the hiccup, “No! Not with Kai, anyone else but him, I mean it, Angel, it was something else,”

Soobin quirked a brow, Angel's cheeks deepening in color. It didn't help that he was looking at her with her train of thought derailing in the direction of a lovely open pool of crisp lemonade. She could just smell the citrusy freshness that followed after him, the scent that made her perfectly aware of how different they were, and forced her to face the recollection that she wanted him in a horribly needy way.

She wondered exactly what he would taste like, obviously lemony, but would he be more sweet or sour? Fresh or bitter? He was the opposite of sweet little blueberry who was now clapping at the choice of dresses the girls had picked out. Lemon drop was a streak of verbena-washed clarity in a town full of half-baked sweet tarts. She wanted him to wash over her and teach her things she never would have known without him, open her pallet to more than just the sweets found in a shop just like Strawberry said. Because as much as she talked down on the people around her, she was just as close to them, still grappling with the niceties of sprouting out in a field of pushovers. But she had time to bake, enough so that she knew she wanted more than just a dollop of sweetness to finish her off. She needed the honesty of someone who would be just as bitter as she was sweet, someone who had left and come back, someone who knew exactly what she wanted and had achieved it themself. Only now all she could think about was what exactly you had to do for a taste of anything at zipper level.

“You know, I heard he's looking for a sitter, especially because Kai is helping me so much at the stand. It's great to have Dumpling around but sometimes following her and meringue is a bit much,” Strawberry added, looking right past soobin to where Blueberry was fussing over apple dumplings shoelaces.

“Really?” soobin had broken eye contact to tend to little lemon meringue, carrying the outfits she's picked out in one arm and pushing back his hair with a ruddy knuckled hand. She watched the two of them like she was memorizing her favorite recipe, taking the time to run over every line, connecting the little bullet point dimples the two of them shared. Even when Strawberry took her bunch with her out the door, leaving the two of them alone at her counter, she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her features.

“Don't you just love it, angel? It's so bright and pretty and does a perfect twirl when I spin,” meringue is nearly a spitting image of lemon drop, the only difference is her hair doesn't have the classic butter blond but a sun-washed version, the roots starting as a toasted tan color before fading out. But even then it's impossible to say they weren't related. Holding onto the edge of the checkout counter, hand still fluttering over the dress she's picked. Soobin reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, grinning with the edge of his mouth as he watches her look up at Angel with her big brown eyes, dimple so deep in his cheeks she's sure she can swim in it. “It's perfect,” Soobin mutters.

For someone who has been pushed into the bitter pile by the rest of the town, Angel finds it hard to believe someone like the man before her could be anything but comforting. It was in his name, lemon drop, so nostalgic, in and of itself an acquired taste.

“I know you think that but I was asking angel,” meringue scrunched up her nose in that little kid's way, the light dusting of faded freckles tucked into the creases like a bunched blanket.

“I love it, would it even be a good dress without a perfect twirl? It's why I make sure all of the dresses in here look good when you spin,” Angel folds the items neatly sliding them into the gift bag. “Here you go,”

Soobin passes out the exact change, hand brushing angels as he lets the money go, surprised by the warmth radiating off the soft contact. Just as comforting as the alluring scent in the streets he shouldn’t have expected any less. Meringue is elated to be handed her bag giggling to herself as she thanks Angel and her dad. “Next time I see you I hope I can see your perfect twirl and soob- lem-” Angel stumbles over the right name, never really having spoken to him personally besides a few light greetings in passing.

“Soobin is fine,” his grin was a mix of amusement and arrogance that whipped Angel around in a mix of unrelenting jealousy. The ease with which he found himself walking through life was something angel only wished to grasp, and here he was, with confidence written into a single smile.

“Okay, soobin, if you ever need help after five I'm always free to watch her when you need work done. Strawberry was just telling me you could use a hand, "Angel says it so innocently, eyes blinking up to him in a way that he can't think about too closely. It takes everything in him not to look down at the very hand she speaks of, even if it's metaphorically. Because he could use a hand, specifically hers wrapped around him revealing the stress he was feeling in ways that he knew only she would be able to take care of. But it was too much to ask in a place like this, too much to think about when he was in public, and certainly too much when his child was waiting by the door for him to take her to her playdate.

“Thank you I could- um- really use the help,” he didn't know what to do with his hands, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose only for them to slip right back down, hand running through his already messy hair. It was the most angel had ever seen him discomposed, more like a stuttering school boy instead of a college professor who made school boys cower.

“Okay just let me know, you know where you can find me,”

It was only a few days later when soobin came by to ask for Angel's assistance, meringue hot on his heels as he shuffled into the shop right before closing. “I know it's last minute but Kai was supposed to take her to Strawberry’s house but turns out he cant and-”

“It's okay,” Angel chuckled, “I know the two of them have been so finicky with plans recently it's no problem at all. I just need to make sure the doors are locked up and then we can go,” and so they waited while you twisted the key, checking the knob twice, and shuddering from the slight chill in the air. In only a few days, Angel knew the gingerbread cobblestones would be coated in the thin glaze of the first frost, dollops of shoveled snow pushed up against her shop looking like misplaced piles of spilled frosting.

Lemon meringue ran ahead, her ballet flat-covered feet skipping between each stone like a made-up hopscotch map only she could see. Instinctively, Angel walked a step closer to soobin, bumping his arm with every other step they took toward his house at the end of the lane. Angel knew this was one of the reasons why he was accepted more than his other bitter labeled fellows, he lived in town, and went to town meetings even if he didn't add to the majority opinions. If he lived down on the outskirts, house kissing the woods or worse buried deep inside them, he wouldn't have a chance of being accepted in the way that he has been. It gave Meringue the best opportunity to find friends and build a relationship with the community before they ostracized her for being anything but sweet because of the name she carried.

Pushing open the door to their modest place, Angel was surprised by the solace laced into the brown woods and honey-colored accents thrown around the house. Stacks of leather tomes litter tidy shelves, and little dolls, and figurines placed by meringue are known only because of how high each item reaches. It smelled of freshly picked lemons and the cozy baked smell of warmed sugar. It was just late enough for the sun to be setting in through the gauzy curtains, casting the room in a warm golden glow. Angel wasn't to bask in the light, curl up like a kitten on the plush couch, tucked in with the knitted blanket tossed over the back like an invitation.

Meringue shot forward, hand wrapped around Angel's wrist tugging her past the living room and to the overly saturated room that could only belong to a child as happy as her. “Look, angel! I can show you all my princess dresses, we can do a fashion show!” She pushed open a trunk decorated like a little carriage fit to wheel a queen in, the lid holding back all the tulle and silk, only to now spill out like an overstuffed donut.

Soobin chuckled by the doorway, knowing exactly how his daughter was. She would keep Angel entertained enough for the both of them, needing no help to find something to do. It was the only thought in his head until he caught sight of Angel's wrist, his little meringue’s handprint still indented on her soft skin. He watched in amazement the way it slowly rose back into shape like a cake filling the tin in the oven. The thoughts running in his head were nothing to be proud of, images of his hands on the plush of angel tummy driving him mad. He had to turn away, leaving them alone in the room to focus on the stack of papers he had on the edge of his desk to dull the image of his handprint on the crease of her hip, dented into her thigh.

It was hard to get work done as is, his mind always fluttering through the tasks at hand, the next paper to grade, the time to pick up meringue, when he would be able to fit in the time to sleep. Now all he can think about is sweet cream dotting the smooth expanse of buttery cake. He hardly got through the few papers waiting for him, red pen in hand, staining the tips of his fingers as it sat motionless waiting for him to write. Hours passed, the soft laughter and chatting heard through the cracked door, every so often a glimpse of yellow and pink crossed in front of his field of vision, both angel and meringue going from the living room and back.

It made soobin happy to not worry that Meringue was having a good time, sometimes she fell shy especially when not near Apple Dumpling. She even had to warm up to Strawberry, only becoming her bubbly self when she and dumpling were alone, hiding behind her closest advisers in the face of someone new. But Meringue had always wanted to talk to Angel Cake even before they had known her to be best friends with Strawberry. His sweet lemony girl's eyes go wide and glittery seeing the expanse of clothes held in Angel's shop, do you think she gets to try on anything she wants? Look at how cute she dressed Daddy! I wish I had her job.

Every little comment only showed how deeply Meringue wanted to play dress up, more so play with Angel. He's sure even if he had asked for Angel to watch meringue in the shop she would have just as much fun as she was having going around the house now. He loved how comfortable Meringue found herself around Angel, and how Angel accepted his girl with open arms.

Time slipped past soobin without realizing the laughter had faded into hazy silence, more than half his stack of papers cleared through and marked to be returned to waiting students. He ran his fingers under his eyes, glasses set askew from the rubbing, sighing into the empty study. Soobin didn't notice Angel until he smelled her, that wonderfully delicate sweet smell of vanilla sweetness making him hold back his groan. He had thought it had only been the smell of the shop. The cake-like walls were made to pull in customers like the cinnamon scent of a bakery wafting through the streets, beckoning all who breathed in the air. Maybe Angel smelled so delicious because of working all day, the scent rubbing off and sticking to her hair, her clothes, her skin.

“She's fast asleep, knocked out almost as soon as she laid down to read her bedtime book,” Angel leaned against the edge of soobins desk, hip digging into the wood, fingers sprawled over the skewed pages of work. To Soobin, she was a dazzling masterpiece of messy hair and flushed skin, dress short enough for him to see the way the desk was pinching her thigh.

“Thank you,” the words twisted into a whisper from how dry his mouth had gotten just from looking at a single strip of skin. Licking his lips he tried to swallow, finding something to say besides the hollow echo of words he had managed.

“Oh it's nothing really, she's a doll,” Angel's eyes danced over the pages at her hand, “you lived in the city right?” even just the mention had soobins mind going back to the dull colorless house he found himself in when studying for his degree. It made him sick to think about raising meringue in a place like that, she was why he had moved back home, not caring how off-put the rest of the town was about him now.

“Yes, I did,” he sat back in his chair, one elbow still resting on the desk and the other laid out on the armrest. He was half turned to angel, lower because of sitting and now having her tower over him. And her damn thigh was there right next to him, knuckles twitching to brush over the smooth expanse of skin.

“Did you like it?” Angel had tipped her voice down to a whisper, the dim light needing the change when she had decorated the question in enough hope and worry. It wasn't as if Soobin’s answer would change much, she knew she dreamed of a city out there bright enough to blind the thought of home but it was hard to leave when it was all she ever knew, she didn't even know if she truly wanted to leave.

“I liked it enough,” soobin bit at his bottom lip, worrying over the question. It was as honest an answer as he could give. “But it wasn't home, not for me, not for meringue. There is nothing quite like the comfort of home,”

“Like this place you have here,” Angel lifted her chin, looking around the packed study with even more books and bobs. “That couch of yours looks too cozy not to nap on,”

“You should see my bed,” it was a quick response, one that didn't pass the filter connected to the bit of his mouth that kept him from saying anything embarrassing. “I- I didn’t mean it like that-”

But Angel didn't get the innuendo embedded into the words, she just nodded, “I should, I bet it's just as warm as the rest of this place, you have it at just the right temperature,”

The lack of sleep was making him loose, his finger drifting out to press right into the outside of Angel's thigh, pushing against the soft plush of her skin just enough to feel the heat from her, “you sure it's not you? You seem to keep warm enough,”

“Oh no, take it from a cake to know exactly when they walk into the right level of warmth. This is perfectly cozy,”

“You do feel…lively,” soobin drags his finger up Angel's thigh, reaching right to the hem of her dress, stopping right before it could go any further. The line he had drawn was like the roadmap to the realization that he should not be touching her like this. But it was incredibly hard to remember his mind when he felt this hazy; drunk off the lack of sleep and the sweet smell of sugary cake.

Angel felt the pad of his finger slip right up her spine, sink into her nervous system, and cloud her mind. Even if he had pulled away, flexing his hand as if that would sink the feeling of her warm skin into his palm, she could swear the touch was tattooed right there forever now.

She couldn’t forget it, not on the walk home, not when she showered the day away, not even when she climbed into bed. The moonlight slipped in through her lacy curtains, the soft gleam pulling her mind right back to the study. Her finger pressed right where she remembered him, circling the spot like she was tracing the shape of the yellowing moon on her thigh.

Even the moon made her think of him, a little lemon drop in the sky, her bed warm enough to picture what it would be like to snuggle up in his. Her fingers were too soft and not at all how she needed them to be to pick up her illusion. Pressing them harder into her thigh she felt an ache between her legs, centered right at the heart of her.

Angel had never felt such a pull to touch herself, not until the butter blonde boy was there just out of reach, so close to palming her thigh instead of just using the tip of his fingers. She wanted his hands all over her, they didn't even need to be warm, she just needed him. Needed his finger pressed on the tormentor's bud that called for him. But for now, she would have to make do, her hand pushed into her shorts feeling along the wet seam of herself never knowing that her body would crave someone so bad without even having tasted them like strawberry had said.

But the only thing on her mind was lemon drop, her hips rolling into her hand, the soft moans drawn out from a mouth so unfamiliar with this sound. Her body told her the way to move, and where to seek peak pleasure until she was a gasping mess, creaming around her dainty digits. Angel Cakes' new discovery was a calamity, highlighting a deep desire she didn't know she could hold within herself. A catastrophe; soobin had been the one to knock a tray of glasses to the floor, already so recklessly close to the edge until one push sent them shattering, angel couldn't clean the glass fast enough, left to never be the same again.

Soobin was no better, he was a cracked vase slowly leaking out in drips of sun-melted ice, he had to hold it together for work, for home; hastily wrapping fingers around the seeping seams only for his thoughts to pour out between his fingers. Because angel cake was spinning in his living room, twirling around with his daughter, giggling until they were a dizzy pile on the floor. His office door just cracked as he caught sight of angels' sweet lacy white panties, clinging to the curve of her ass. If he had knocked over the tray of her sanity, angel cake had taken a hammer to his fragile vase, smashed it until it was powered, and easily passed as dusting sugar on the treats in strawberry’s shop.

Soobin felt his addiction take its toll on him, every night the image of angel cake washed over his sleeping mind until he was reduced to nothing but a needy muddled mess of thruming joints. He couldn't go one day without his hand wrapped around his cock, working his wrist until he was spilling dribbles of cum onto sheets that needed her in them. It was worse when his order from strawberry came in, Kai handing the box over right at the doorway, picking up Meringue for her sleepover with Dumpling. The smell of the shortcake filled the house as soon as he shut the door behind them.

He was embarrassed to have such an obsession with angel cake, sure that she would cringe away from his desperation for her. So desperate he was standing in the kitchen with one hand down his pants and the other digging into the soft sponge of one of the cakes just brought over. The cream and crumb squished out between his fingers as he came, moaning into the empty space until the sound reverberated around him, the smell of her dancing around his body. He wanted her, needed her.

Soobin didn’t even remember the trip to Angel's shop's door, his nose pulling him along the crumb-dotted cobblestone, leading him right to the front doors, so willing to be eaten by the magic-laced girl inside. He could see her through the frosted glass windows, the closed sign turned to signal the end of her shift but she was leaning over the stand of shirts, fixing them in the way she wanted, her end-of-day routine. He could smell her, that buttery sweetness addicting, making him delirious. He wanted to sink his hands into her warm flesh, hold her tight enough so that if anyone saw they would know it was his hands that had been on her, that she was his, and his alone.

He pushed open the unlocked door, the ding of the bell signaling his entrance, that glance over her shoulder ruining him once and for all. “Hi! Did I forget I was supposed to come over tonight? I can pack up real quick or she can stay here-”

“No, blueberry took her- i- i-” he was struggling with the words, a stuttering fool standing in the middle of the shop like he'd come to beg. And he had, he would beg her till the end of his days to have one taste, to have her tear into him like she was peeling back the layers of his sanity. “I need you,”

“Oh?” she tilted her head to the side, the pure look of innocence smashing into him like a wave. He wanted to stain her, fill her up, and call her his.

Soobin struggled to swallow, every breath filling his lungs with her, she was right there on the tip of his tongue. “I need you,” his hand reached down to the bulge sitting against his thigh, hard, thick, and weeping for her.

If Angel Cake hadn't spoken to Strawberry about the zipper-level kisses she would have been confused beyond belief. But it had been all she could think of since then, what it would be like to lick up his body and know exactly what it was that made people so addicted. Because she was grappling with the fact that she was already falling down the rabbit hole of need, to finally taste him would be like crashing right into another world. “I don't know- I don't know how-” she was flushed all over from the confession because she didn't want him to leave, if he needed her she would mold herself to fit and fix any problem he had. Her lack of knowledge wouldn't hold her back, if he was a teacher she would be his best student.

“I'll show you, tell you everything you need to know,” he snapped the button on his pants, undoing the zipper releasing enough pressure to let out the most sinful noise angel had ever heard. She could feel her panties flooded with the cream that had been leaking from her for days now, always tied to the thought of him. If he felt even a fraction of how she did, Angel would make sure to take the best care of him.

“O-okay,” Angel Cake could feel her mouth water, her thighs pulling together, needing them closer to relieve the ache she felt. Soobin locked the door behind him, tugging Angel to a spot behind a rack of clothes. “Here get on your knees in front of me,”

Angel was fast to listen, sinking to the ground in front of him, hands placed neatly on the tops of her thighs, looking up at soobin with those wanting eyes. Just thinking about those plush lips warping around his cock was taking him out, and watching the tip of her tongue wet her mouth was excruciating. Soobin reached into his pants, pulling out his veiny shaft, the sheer size making Angel's eyes widen.

She didn't know what she was expecting but she was not expecting to feel empty at the sight. The top of him was shiny with a layer of leaking pre-cum. Soobin ran his thumb across his slit collecting the wetness to swirl around the tip, moaning at the way Angel's mouth fell open without realizing. “You can touch it,” he nodded, watching how Angel was gripping her skirt, crinkling the fabric trying to hold herself back.

Angel lifted a shaking hand, fingers brushing the side of him, amazed at the softness so much that she wrapped her hand around him and gave a tug. Soobins chest rumbled, his hand reaching out for the rack next to him, the hangers clattering from the force of his grip. “Sorry-”

“No, no you're doing good, just like that, slow and easy,” he nodded, biting back his moan when her wrist flicked again, “you can squeeze a little harder,” he whispered, his free hand finding itself around hers, showing her just the right amount of pressure he was looking for. Soobin's hand guided Angel's until he was using her hold as if it was his own, speeding up the pace.

Angel watches in amazement as soobins head rolls back, his brows pinched as he whimpers. She's never wanted to taste something or someone so bad, and now, with him right in front of her, she can't resist the temptation for what it is. Angel sits up just enough so that she can press a sweet kiss to his tip, a string of pre-cum still connecting her lips to him. Soobin lets out a shocked gasp, watching the way she licks her lips clean.

The taste is subtle, the sweet and sour mixed together only to draw Angel back in for more. She didn't even know what she was doing, compelled by the flavor to envelop him fully, the flat of her tongue licked up and around to collect more of the addictive fluid. Soobin’s knees go weak at the warmth of her mouth, hips jerking to try to chase the feeling, “Oh fuck just like that,” his hand still holding hers, working over the rest that wasn't pressed into her mouth.

Angel cake moaned around him, his bitter lemon taste mixing with the sweetness from his pre-cum. She wanted to swallow him whole, take more of him down. Soobin couldn't even think anymore, Angel's mouth trying to work further down, her hand stopping right at his base. Angel hollows her cheeks, sucking him down like its instinct, soobins groan taking over the silence and joining the soft wet noises. Soobins restraint breaks, overwhelmed by the way her mouth molds to his cock so perfectly, his mind working to imagine it's her waiting cunt. She takes him down so deep he can feel the back of her throat. It's enough for him to wrap his hands into her hair, fingers wrapping softly around her skull as he fucks into her mouth without warning. Angel moans, the vibrations going straight up his cock and making his balls clench. Her hands reach out for his thighs to keep herself steady, tears welling in her eyes, loving the newfound sensation.

Angel Cake doesn't know what to expect, lashes fluttering as he loses himself in the feel of her. It's a shock when his thrusts become erratic, his body trembling with a deep groan, sweet lemon cream spilling on her waiting tongue. Angel tries to swallow, unable because he keeps going, fucking his cum right into her still willing mouth, spurt after spurt following until he has to pull away. Angel gasps, sucking in gulps of air, mouth a mess of dripping lemon custard and saliva.

If she had thought the pre-cum had been addicting, she didn't know the effect the real deal would have on her. Blindly, she wiped the corner of her mouth, licking the cream she'd collected, humming as if she'd just taken a bite of the richest lemon bar. The sight and sound made soobin impossibly more obsessed with her, fingers going down her cheek, pulling her attention to his awestruck expression.

His head was clearing but it didn't stop the infection of her as it slipped well past his mind, into his bones, into his soul. He had heard about how easy it was to save a fruit tree if you cut away the rot fast enough; right at first sight. Angel cake had taken hold of every thorny branch on his tree and twisted herself in the sparse foliage, so deeply intertwined now that he wasn't sure there was ever a time when it would have been an easy snip to rid himself of this fever.

Angel Cake's face was a glistening mess of wetness when he squished her cheeks with one large hand, her pouting lips so kissable and pink. “Look at you,” a surrealistic sigh caught on the edge of his tone. He leaned down, needing a taste of the two of them, the perfect combination of bitter and sweet, angel's sugary spit mixed with his lemony custard making him powerless. And when he pulled away, letting go of angel's cheeks, he watched the way her lips stayed puffy, the illusion of dimples still there as her skin rose back, flushed a petal pink. “Did I do good?”

“You did perfect,” soobin brushes his nose along the bridge of hers, his eyes closing, breathing her in. He wanted to tear into her, squish his fingers into her, and memorize every little action that brought out a sound. But in his post orgasm clarity, he noticed exactly what he had done. He had tainted this perfect angel, filled her with more than just bad ideas but had fully gone in and let his uncontrollable emotions take over.

Even when Angel Cake had gotten home later that night, she couldn't stop licking her lips. She was lying in bed, wriggling in the sheets trying and failing to find a comfortable position let alone sleep. Her hand was stuck between her legs, on the verge of tears for nothing working to cave in a hunger that she was only now painfully aware of. She hated that she was alone, hated it more than she knew the feeling of his hands on her, knew that those long fingers would have been perfect to fix her problem as easily as she had fixed his.

The hunger triggered a compulsion within her similar to the one soobin experienced on his walk to Angel’s shop, her feet carrying her through the streets, half-dressed in her silky lace pajamas. The lemon drop moon cast its path down the cobblestone to Soobin’s front door. The cold unfelt against Angel's warm skin, and when soobin opened the door he could see the steam rising off of her heated body. The haze of it mixed with the backlight of the moon made her look like a true angel waiting right at his front step, outlined in the glow. She hasn't even come in shoes, her thick socks slouched around her ankles, her shorts pinched at her waist, and one tank top strap down her shoulder. He could see her pebbled nipples through the thin material, his lips pursing at the thought of wrapping around them. “Angel?”

He couldn't tell if this was one of his dreams, the kind that left him reaching out in a bed she never saw. “I think I need you now,” she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed by the words, not when she had seen him in the same state, begging and just as needy. Soobin rushed to pull her inside, ready to get her wrapped up in something to keep her from freezing if that was possible for someone so warm. He hardly had the door closed when she was pulling him closer to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, tugging him into her space. She needed to have him in her mouth again and soobin knew he wasn't going to turn her away. His hands slid down her back, fingers digging into the soft skin, groaning into her sugar-sweet mouth, the sound catching in the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down greedily.

Angel didn't know what to do with her hands, her mind shutting off and following their natural way, slipping into his hair, the strands tangling between her fingers, his lemony sweet kisses taking over her mind as he slowly kissed her. But Angel was impatient, whining and rubbing her thighs together.

“What is it baby? Tell me,” he kissed down her jaw, intoxicated by the smell of her, so much stronger when she was so hot against him.

Angel reached down for one of his hands, guiding it like he had done for her, pushing his fingers until they slipped right against the silk of her shorts, “it's so achy,” she whimpered, “and all I can do is think about you,”

She was like a freshly wrapped gift left on the front step, the label perfectly signed with his name and his name alone. A sinful treat he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into. He dragged his fingers along the seam of her, the silk already spotted with wetness, “you want me to take care of you?” the husk of his voice was thick in her ear like syrup.

“Please- please,” her nods are erratic, hips rolling trying to keep him right against her tender clit. Her pathetic cry echoes in the living room when he pulls his hand away. But he doesn't keep his hands away for long, dragging her to his room, having her fall to his bed, right where he's wanted her. Her knees fall open, the heels of her feet digging into the mattress. She's a vision of her namesake, mewling when soobin hooks his fingers into her waistband and takes down her panties and shorts, sliding them down her legs and peeling her socks off, leaving her bottom half exposed.

Soobin is caught at the sight of her gleaming cunt, leaking arousal the color of royal icing, creamy and sweet, looking as if she had been stuffed full of him already. Nothing could keep him from getting a taste. He fell to his knees like this was a place to beg for forgiveness. But he wouldn't be sorry, not after he started his feast. Soobin licked a bold stripe up from her entrance to clit, groan ripped from him with only one drop of her. He wrapped his arms under her legs, holding her open and watching how his fingers dented her flesh, the plush of her spilling between fingers itching to stay there and mold her as his forever.

Angel let out a sharp gasp the second his mouth was attached to her aching center, thighs trying to snap shut around his head, held in place and forced open as she arched her back. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, her breathing only coming out when she slipped out moans. He was devouring her, licking her clean like he was enjoying the frosting before the cupcake, sucking deeply on her clit just to watch her tremble.

Soobin does not care about the mess he's making of her, face dripping with his Angel's cream, moans of delight vibrating against her puffy clit. He doesn’t even notice the way she's writhing beneath him, only that he's now faced with the most delicious meal he has ever had. Moaning into her, slurping up all that she has to offer trying to pull forth more of her sweet cream. And he didn't have to try hard, not when she needed him so bad already, the bubbling building in her lower belly so newfound and yet never before so intense. Angel cake feels like a balloon ready to pop, one deep long suck on her clit has her seeing stars, her orgasm washing over her as swiftly as a needle prick, causing her to come undone. The gush of her arousal keeps Soobin’s mouth right against her, his persistent licks only pulling him in more.

He was a desperate mess, working away at his pants, rutting into the mattress as if that would curb his insatiable hunger. He needed to be inside of her, filling her up with his lemon custard, fucking her senseless until she was begging to stay right here in his bed and never leave. He wanted that, to keep her as his, not just press his hand into her thigh and leave that lasting mark. No, he needed to claim her as his in the best, most lasting way. “Do you want me inside you Angel?” he pressed the flat of his palm into her pelvis, relishing in the way he felt himself sinking into her skin. “Right here, filling you up, making you mine-”

Angel had never felt so empty, not until he pointed it out, solving a problem she never thought she had. Her mewling response was a mix of pleas and whimpers. She didn't care what he did so long as she could have him near, and if he could fix the burn in her belly he could devour her just as well as tear her apart.

Soobin lifted Angel's legs enough so that the backs of her knees were slotted against his inner elbows, one hand reaching down to guide his dripping cock to her waiting entrance. Angel does not expect the pressure of being pushed into, her gasp caught on a half-open mouth of pure bliss. Every slow tantalizing inch stretches her out, her body instinctively clenching around him trying to suck him in. “Relax, baby,” he whispers, his hand sliding up her stomach, up under her tank top to reveal her breasts. He rubs at her skin, soothing her tense muscles until he's sunk all the way into the hilt, her body melting and molding around his.

Soobin waits, catching himself from letting go, letting their bodies adjust to each other. But Angel is impatient, rolling her hips, not even realizing she's trying to fuck back onto him, only that she needs some kind of friction. But soobin is slow to pull out and even slower to push back in, eyes connected to the spot they meet at. Her body was like clay beneath him, so easily shaped into the perfect temptation. Every drag in and out coated his cock in her cream, mesmerizing him, numbing his brain.

Angel could tell the difference in him, that split second that makes his eyes go hazy, hips snapping into hers making her body ripple from the force. “you were fucking made for me- do you feel how deep I am-“ he’s slamming into her, the lude sounds of their wetness mixing; echoing with their moans. All the veins in his hands straining from the hold on her soft sides.

He was pressed so deep into her she could feel him hitting a spot that made her hips sink, her hands reaching out to hold his hands, needing the comfort not knowing what was building inside her. so much more intense than when it’s her fingers or even just his mouth. “soobin im-im-“ she can’t even find the words looking for something that she didn’t know existed until just now.

“we can cum together- I’ll fill you up make sure to pump you full so you know exactly where I'm going to put our baby,” he moves his hand down to press his thumb to her clit, triggering her to jolt, the walls of her pulsing around him before she’s falling apart.

Angel's body is a tightening mess, her back arching, cheeks flushing as she comes undone for him. The pull of her body to his makes him shudder, his whole body falling against hers needing to be close, needing to smell the vanilla sweetness of her skin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he holds back his strangled moans. Slow languid thrusts push his lemon custard cum back into her, needing to make true to his promise to have her full of him and only him. Needing to mix together their cream for the perfect bake.

Neither of them knows what's happened to them, only that they are a tangle of limbs, wrapped up tight enough that Angel can still feel the pulse of his cock deep inside her, still pumping into her never having cum so much in his life before then.

Angel feels boneless when he pulls away, her whimper making him chuckle. “I just need to see your creamy pussy again,” the sight to behold better than before now that he knows the wetness is more his than hers. His fingers dragged through her sensitive cunt, collecting the mess to shove it back Into her, fucking her on his fingers for a second. He lifts his fingers in front of them showing Angel the sheer amount of cream coating the digits. “If I could bottle this flavor I would,” he licks them clean before leaning over to shove his tongue into her mouth, needing her to taste what he’s found as his new obsession.

Angel swallows down the cum, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, twisting legs and burrowing in closer. “you taste sweeter than I thought you would,”

“Did the thought of it keep you up?” he asks, nose brushing along the column of angel's throat. “because thinking of you while being alone in this bed is hell, I need both of my girls under my roof to feel complete,”

“both…” the sound of the word was heavy in her mouth. Not in an uncomfortable way but in a way a piece of chocolate sat on her tongue, melting and sweet, craving to place another one as soon as it was gone.

“Both.” The finality of the word is better than the buttery sheets he’s pressing her right back Into.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! thank you so much @izzyy-stuff for helping edit this for me ily ily ily @thetxtdevil and @beomiracles for betareading this a bit, but special special thank you for mae who gave me a lot of these ideas in the first place, her perfect mind came up with the cake like reader with indenting skin and helped with the conversation with strawberry and angel <3

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

private collection

Summary: Dieter asks you, his PA turned girlfriend, to take a video of him to help promote the project of a friend of his. He makes sure to thank you for it afterwards.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.3k

Rating: E

Warnings: based on that damn instagram dancing snippet, flirting, dancing, established relationship, kissing, smut (unprotected sex; oral sex f receiving), cum play, making some private videos, sneak of a bj at the end

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A/N: look, I had to. Somebody stop this man keep going. Used @iamasaddie's gif as Inspo (hope that's okay! Tumblr apparently won't let me message anyone from this account some reason 🥲) cause I suck at all things graphic design. Merry Crisis!

Full Masterlist // Dieter Bravo Masterlist

The night was coming to an end and you were tired. 

Dieter had insisted you come with him to a get together with some of his friends who were in town to promote their newest projects. Of course all of them knew that you were much more than just the PA the outside world knows you as.

You had been dating on and off for around four years. What started as a… mutual quarantine friends with benefits kinda situation turned into something more throughout the last year. You had been with him through his final successful rehab and you couldn’t be prouder of him being sober for almost two years now. By now you were living together, but keeping it all lowkey. You were still working as his PA, but not for that much longer. 

You’d start working at Dieter’s new production company as an production assistant in the next year. You had always wanted to work in that field, being Dieter’s PA and the pandemic only delaying your goal by a bit.

Not that you were mad about it.

Sure, you would still technically work for Dieter, but not like you did now. You would work for the COO of the company and not for Dieter directly. 

„Come dance with my baby,“ he gave you one of those smiles he knew you couldn’t resist, his friends already on their feet, music loud in the background as Dieter held his hand out for you. Knowing you couldn’t say no to him you took his hand and let him pull you up and into the middle of the room. 

It was a small private bar in some fancy restaurant, the only people around his friends and one bartender. Crossing your arms behind his neck, feelings his arms, his hands on your back you let him sway you to the music, his chest against yours. 

„You look really pretty tonight,“ he hummed with a small smile, kissing your forehead. 

„Thank you. My man got this dress for me,“ you grinned softly, your fingers playing with the soft hair in the back of his neck. It was just a black sweater dress he had surprised you with the week before.

„He got good taste, your man,“ he grinned back and you nodded. 

„He got his moments,“ you teased and he chuckled, swaying your bodies to the song. 

„Thank you for coming with me tonight. I know you wanted to stay in. But it was nice having you here with me. And I promise we will stay in for the whole weekend and do whatever you want,“ he said and you smiled at him. 

„Love you,“ you smiled softly and he mumbled a love you too, before he kissed you softly. 

You continued to dance for another two songs, one slow song, and one where Dieter attempted to teach you how to actually dance to the beat, but you were a lost cause, you both ending in a fit of giggles before he tells you that he wants to head home. 

You agreed, wanting to use the restroom before.

„Baby, you gotta help us,“ he called out to you when you came back into the room. With a raised eyebrow and a small smile you walked towards Dieter and his three remaining friends. 

„With what?“ You asked.

„Wanna promote his movie and had an idea,“ Dieter said, nodding towards one of his friends.

„Okay?“ You nodded, a little confused. 

„But these suckers can’t stop laughing while filming so you gotta,“ he winked and now you were intrigued. 

„What exactly am I going to be filming?“ You playfully narrowed your eyes. 

„Just little old me, dancing towards the camera while this song play,“ he shrugged innocently but you could see his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

You actually listened to the song, lips parting as you recognised it. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you looked up at Dieter before you playfully rolled your eyes, holding your hand out for his phone. He kissed your nose softly before he walked back towards the other side of the room while someone put the song on repeat and turned it louder. 

„How slutty is this going to be?“ You asked with a small grin as you searched through his phone for the camera app. 

„Oh you know me, baby. Just the right amount,“ he winked at you and you chuckled before you straightened up, watching him with a smile as you pressed record. 

„Do your worst then, Bravo,“ you challenged and he danced towards you, smoulder full on, his eyes on you behind the phone as he moved his body, pulling his arms up, hands towards his face as he danced closer towards you. You bit your lip as you watched him, asking yourself how you got so lucky to get to call him yours when his lips twitched into a smile as he was close to you, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he kissed your cheek, your skin suddenly flushed at his little performance. You chuckled as you stopped the video before you tilted your chin up to kiss him softly. 

„Let’s get out of here?“ He asked and you nodded.

You used the way home to edit his social media posts, taking a little longer than usual to edit the clip of him dancing, cutting the last part of him kissing you out. 

„Gotta say this video hits different cause I get to experience just how well you can move your hips on an almost daily basis,“ you said with a small smile and felt Dieter look at you from the drivers seat. 

„Aren’t you a lucky girl?" He teased and you looked up at him. 

„Can’t argue with that,“ you sighed with a dreamy smile and felt his hand on your thigh the next moment. You were finished with editing by the time Dieter parked his car in his garage. 

„You wanna look or should I just post?“ You asked. 

„Just post it,“ he said. 

„You sure? Pretty sure that video could qualify as foreplay,“ you grinned and he chuckled. 

„Merry Christmas to everyone watching then,“ he winked before he got out of the car. As he rounded the car to open your door, you hit post, putting his phone into your purse as you let him help you out of the car. 

„How do you feel about some actual foreplay upstairs?“ He asked before he kissed you as soon as you were out of the car, your back leaning against the car door. 

„Pretty sure you could just fuck me right here from how wet it made me to watch this video two hundred times while editing,“ you mumbled against his lips, feeling his twitch into a smile. 

„While I’d love to do just that,“ he whispered, one of his hands tilting you head up, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek. 

„I really want you to sit on my face,“ he winked before he pulled you into his house.

„Oh my god, Dieter,“ you gasped, your fingers wrapped around the wooden headboard in front of you, Dieter’s arms wrapped around your thighs, his head between them as he ate you out. 

He really did not waste any time to get you to sit on his face as soon as you made it upstairs, stripping down himself then you quickly, before pulling you on top of him. 

His tongue was merciless, playing with your pussy like only he could, bringing you closer and closer towards your first orgasm. One of his arms let go of your thigh, his hand coming up to play with your tits, palm squeezing one of them softly. 

„Shit, baby. Right there, suck on my clit,“ you moaned, crying out when he did just that, your walls clenching around nothing seconds later as your orgasm washed over you, your lips parted with a satisfied smile, head thrown back as you rode it out, one of your hands coming down to slip into his hair as he continued to lick into you. 

Finally you looked down, finding his dark eyes already fixed on you and you slipped down his chest, his hands coming to rest on your hips as you straddled his, slowly rubbing your drenched pussy over his cock. 

„You’re so fucking sexy, baby,“ he said as he licked his lips and you grinned before you leaned down to meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. 

„Want you to ride my cock baby, please,“ he whined between kisses, as you continued to slip his cock through your wet folds. 

„Yeah?“ You teased against his lips. 

„Fuck, yes please,“ he whimpered, his hands kneading your ass as he helped you move on top of him. You loved how needy he got sometimes.

„What if I really want to suck your cock?“ You asked and he groaned. 

„Later. Wanna be inside you now,“ and you hadn’t it in you to tease him any longer, sitting yourself up and wrapping your hand around his cock to line him up. 

You both moaned when you sunk down on him, every inch of his thick cock stretching you perfectly just like it did since the first time you had fucked until you were sitting on top of him, cock deep inside of you. 

„Shit, your pussy is so fucking perfect,“ Dieter moaned and you smiled down at him. His eyes on your tits before he looked up into your eyes. 

„All of you is fucking perfect,“ he moved his hips beneath you and you gasped. With both of your hands on his chest you began to move on top of him, first rolling your hips before you slowly began to ride his cock.

„Feels so good, Dieter,“ you moaned softly, enjoying the way his cock was stretching you out. 

„Yeah?“ He asked, both of his hands on your tits, playing with them. You sucked your bottom lip in, nodding as you began to move faster, bouncing on his cock. He began to move too, thrusting up into you to meet you halfway, the sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room. 

„You close?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Good girl. Use my cock and make yourself cum. It’s yours,“ he groaned and you moaned. 

„Wanna fuck you from behind after you cum, shoot my cum all over your back,“ he said, his eyes on you as he fucked up into you harder. 

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned, arching your back as your second orgasm rushed through you, your hands covering Dieter’s that were still on your tits as you slowly rode it out. 

As you breathed deeply you looked down at Dieter with a fucked out smile on your lips. 

„Hands and knees baby,“ he winked up at you and you sighed before you got up from him and let Dieter help you get you on your hands and knees, still feeling a little wobbly from your second orgasm, his cock back inside of you within seconds. He grabbed his pillow, pushing it under your chest and you let yourself fall down even further, your ass up in the air as he fucked into you. 

„You good?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Use me, baby,“ you said, the side of your head on the mattress, wiggling your ass playfully and he slapped it twice. 

„Tell me if it gets to much,“ he said and you nodded, crying out at the next moment as he began to fuck you with hard, deep thrusts. Somehow he felt even deeper like this and it was like you could feel him everywhere as he pumped himself into you, the bed squeaking beneath you with how hard he was fucking you. 

It felt so fucking good, Dieter knowing just how he had to touch you to make you feel good.

„Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,“ he groaned and you nodded desperately. 

„Cum for me baby,“ you whined, already feeling his cock twitching inside of you before he pulled out. You turned your head to look up at him, his hand jerking off his cock, a long groan escaping his lips before you felt the first rope of his cum on your back. His eyes were closed, head thrown back as he milked himself dry and you hummed with a tired smile, his eyes opening when he finished, finding yours. 

With a fucked out smile he looked down at you before he looked at the mess he made of you. Leaning down you gasped when you felt his tongue run up your spine, licking himself off before your felt one of his hand on your arm, finding yourself on your back moments later with him towering over you, his lips meeting you in a messy almost desperate kiss, both of you moaning as you shared the taste of his cum. 

„Your so fucking filthy,“ you mumbled against his lips with a grin. 

„You love it,“ he grinned back and you  kissed him again, your arms crossing behind his back and he landed on top of you with a surprised huff. 

„I really fucking do,“ you agreed with a laugh. 

The next morning, you were only wearing his shirt form last night, you sneakily filmed him in his kitchen as he made breakfast for you, wearing only some very low hanging grey sweatpants. 

You filmed him as he danced through the kitchen, Christmas lights hanging on his kitchen window as Wham’s „Last Christmas“ played in the background. Excited for the first Christmas you would spend as a couple.

And much later it was Dieter who filmed you, him with a Christmas hat on and you, with his cock down your throat. 

But those videos would remain private. 

For just you and him.

[dadsbongos]

on hard times

5.4k words / summary - jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly's hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

warnings - fem!reader, piv sex, noncon jimmy, stepcest, objectification/sexism (thank u jimmy), curly and jimmy should both be shot in the head

reader is 20 not actually a teenager.

[B Side: Jimmy Zare]

Sitting in a hospital room is not unfamiliar to Jimmy, the only peculiarity to it now being that he’s the one in a gown with his ass out. He’s perched over the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees and flicking an unlit cigarette between two fingers. Below him is a head of flaxen hair, thick hands unzipping a black bag full to the lumps of plain long-sleeves and jeans and socks.

Grant Curly is Jimmy's sole emergency contact. Mrs. Grant Curly used to be Curly's emergency contact. Next was Grant Curly senior. Then Jimmy Zare.

Jimmy thinks that's fucked up. He should have a Mrs. Jimmy Zare and a Jimmy Zare senior and then, finally and as a last resort, there would be Grant Curly.

But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.

Curly now rolls socks on both Jimmy’s feet. Patting the man’s ankle in a way meant to be reassuring, but only squeezes repulsion from Jimmy’s face.

“I can dress myself,” he sneers.

Lots of remarks could’ve followed from Curly’s mouth -- most apparent being: why’d you let me get this far? None of them come, though, Curly simply nods and stands and kicks the bag closer to where Jimmy’s legs dangle over the edge.

“You got everything?” Curly grimaces at his own question, “What happened to your phone?”

Jimmy shrugs before shucking on a stiff pair of jeans, grunting with the effort and cupping his bruised over stomach, “Dunno.”

Curly bites back a sigh, Jimmy watches it happen in real time: a little bit more faith in him is eaten back by disappointment.

All the same, he pulls over a black long sleeve. Violet stomach screaming in protest as he hisses a curse for his dimwitted neighbor, stumbling back into the bed.

“Alright,” Curly bends, hands out to assist Jimmy in standing, “Let’s get you home.”

Jimmy elbows his friend away, paying no mind the pained wheeze he lets out, before stumbling onto two feet by himself. In the hand not bracing his abdomen, is a crinkled plastic bag with vomit-stained clothes and a peeling leather belt.

In silence they wade through the buzzing clinical halls. Hours prior this same hallway was in chaos, Jimmy knows that -- he just doesn’t remember it. Not between yellow-black dots sucking out the light in his eyes or the stinging remnants of bile around his teeth. Now the corridor is sleepier, and stars are beginning to crawl out from behind the horizon.

Jimmy wonders if he waited until now- if his neighbor would’ve had her kids already in bed, too tired to check out the next trailer over rattling-

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s already breaking out toward the parking lot with Curly.

Who then takes a bold step toward the bubblegum Jeep with no back doors, which he knows is not Curly’s car. Meaning one thing,

“Oh,” Curly says like a last minute thought, “Kid’s home, by the way. I hope that’s fine.”

He smiles in such a tight way that slyly communicates: it better be fine because there’s no fighting this. All importance Mrs. Grant Curly took up in the man’s life was drained instantly when she served divorce papers; a space rapidly refilled with the child from a previous marriage. The crooked thorn in Jimmy’s side. The new emergency contact. You.

“Why do you even have a room for it?” Jimmy shuffles into the passenger side, scooting the seat forward and leaving the seatbelt dangling at his shoulder, “Not your kid.”

Curly waves off such criticism, “I love her! She’s nice and funny, everything I could’ve wanted.”

“Ugh,” Jimmy gags, eyes fluttering shut, “Do I get my own room, or do I have to share?”

If his eyes were open, he’s certain he’d be forced to gaze upon that same pressed smile. That stale smile that says more than enough. Jimmy will not like this.

“You got the couch or my bed,” a click and hum vibrates Jimmy in his seat before the car electrifies with whistling pop music. Big chunky tires rolling onto the highway back into clean cut suburbs.

Jimmy cringes at the moaning welps over the radio and flings a hand out, one eye creaking open just enough to make out the volume knob between his crowding lashes. Twisting it far down while croaking,

“You’re a grown ass man, the fuck are you listening to that shit for?”

“It’s just what she left on,” Curly’s jovial, despite the rude quizzing, “You don’t like a bit of girly pop?”

Jimmy glares, turning his whole head to spit daggers toward his friend, “If that little cunt is playing this shit while I’m over, one of us is dying.”

Curly just laughs, then quietly murmurs -- too quiet to be taken seriously, “Don’t call her that.”

Curly is like the sun. Big and bright and nurturing no matter how violently you resist. Making Jimmy mercury: small and red and forever revolving around him.

Upon pulling into the broad driveway up to Curly’s two-story home, Jimmy’s already rich negative attitude only sours more. He spots the sleek little navy blue Toyota Corolla (that’s seen more blood and sweat and tears than your cute two-seater would ever know about) closer to the door.

“Why’d you pick me up in this if your car was here?”

“I figured you’d appreciate this one more,” Curly snarks, killing the engine and jingling your ring of chains with two keys. One for the house and one for your car. Aside from that is a rose gold blinged out rectangle with your name on it, pink little plastic cats, a metal fairy, and purple fuzzy dice.

“Figured wrong,” Jimmy slinks out, curling the clear bag of his belongings to his chest before patting the plastic with loud ‘pops’ as the pair steps through the front door, “I wanna wash this.”

Curly hisses lowly, head turning toward the very obviously clunking washing machine in the utility closet, “I think she’s doing a load right now.”

Ideally, Jimmy would toss his shit in with yours but God forbid the princess gets just a little crusted vomit washed off alongside her delicate thin dresses and lace panties.

“Then I just leave this shit?”

“Looks like it.”

Jimmy really hates you -you’re a little bitch. And you’re hopping down the stairs in a yellow Pony Express shirt three sizes too big for you, smiling, waving, melodically chirping:

”Hi, Uncle Jimmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimmy huffs at you, eye rolling while Curly’s back still faces him from the kitchen.

You stop at the foot of the steps and pout out at him, “Jeez, aren’t you rude? Did they have to amputate your heart out there?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes again, this time with more apparent gusto. He flips you off to boot. You pull an offended scowl before trampling over to Curly and tugging the back of his shirt, murmuring dirt and shit and lies into his big ear. Curly doesn’t spare the energy of twisting back before calling out,

“Jim’ play nice, please?!”

Jimmy hates you. You’re not even Curly’s. You were just some teenage sulk when you came into their lives, and now you’re some codependent wimp living at home. Despite the blonde never complaining about this fact, Jimmy just knows it’s insane that you’re still clinging around. It’s all that pampering Curly did on you.

You skip back out, hands tied behind your back with that awful smile. Rosy lipped with just the perfect sliver of teeth showing, and the apples of your cheeks glowing. The best part of you perched like that is that he can make out the plumpness of your tits -- could probably even reach out and squeeze one before you manage untangling your hands to shove him off.

“So, how long are you staying?” your soft voice grates him again,

Shrugging at you, Jimmy confesses, “Until I get my own house back.”

Your mouth opens, brows furrowed, then they dart up in shock -or perhaps realization- and your mouth closes. You nod and look back at Curly, then again at Jimmy, “Okay,” and prattle back into the kitchen.

Murmuring ensues.

That’s when Curly presses, “Jim’, are you takin’ my room or the couch?!”

More murmuring. You hiss something and he can see the whip of your arm as you whack the blonde’s arm. He laughs quietly and waltzes out, shaking his head a bit,

“Sorry, little lady says you’ve gotta take the couch.”

Jimmy’s scowl must be so hilarious because Curly just laughs harder. You come out whining, smacking at the man’s arm again with a belated shush.

Your concern is brushed off without thought, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

You love Grant, really. He’s been a massive teddy bear since the day you met, but his fatal flaw is his guilted sense of devotion. Especially when it revolved around dear old Uncle Jimmy.

A soft jingle and hiss clues you all to the sudden silence where a machine once clanged. Jimmy spares no seconds before thumbing over his shoulder and seething at you, “Change your load over. I got shit to wash.”

“Grant, don’t let him talk to me like that!” you stomp your foot and whine.

“‘Grant’,” Jimmy mimics your voice, tone nasally and drawn impossibly high.

“Already bickering,” Curly plasters on his worst smile yet, hands fisted on his hips, “This’ll be a good time.”

***

It, decidedly, has not been a good time.

Not in the mornings.

“Grant’s out for his jog,” you mumble around a spoonful of fruity cereal. Milk faintly pink from the artificial dyes.

Jimmy doesn’t even dignify you with a response, prowling from the bed with his striped pajama pants sagging and an unmatching black beater swerved to expose one of his nipples.

“You have a tit piercing?” said with undeniably judgment. Poking the bear just to prove it won’t do anything.

As expected, you receive sullen silence. Jimmy only confirms he heard you in how he roughly yanks the thin material to cover the silver bar through his nipple.

That’s precisely when you spot something sure to make the bear roar. Thin line upon thin line, now blistering white and all stacked in uneven rows along each forearm. A couple stretch past his elbow. You open your mouth, then think better of pointing those out. Partially from some undeserved pity, and partially because of some fleeting certainty he’ll actually kill you over that remark.

“Slept in real late today, huh?” is what you decide on instead.

Jimmy, again, completely skimps you. Rooting around the cabinets until he finds the shiniest bowl and clacking it loudly on the marble counter. Taking down your box of pebbles cereal, ignoring your scoffed protests, and pouring out an overly generous portion. Despite his determination to dodge you, he throws down his bowl -splattering milk over the hardwood table as he does- right beside yours.

Chair skidding out before he hunches over the table. Elbows ungracefully planted on either side of his bowl.

From your peripherals, you watch Jimmy eat. Milk dribbles down his greyed scruff and he crunches open-mouthed, you can identify each sugary morsel just before it’s mashed into rainbow paste. No amount of blatant cringing or sighing does you any favors, so you resort to simply abandoning breakfast before you hurl what’s gone down.

Little do you know that as you rise, so too does the material of your itty bitty silk shorts. Riding up into your ass until fat is spilling out the bottom, and Jimmy hones in on the sight as soon as you’re up. Following with utmost interest as you round the table and perch onto the silver sink ledge, flicking on the hot tap. Definitely prettier bent over the counter than when you’re talking.

If you were his step-daughter you’d probably never leave the house. He’d have the door deadbolted from the outside.

Jimmy blinks at that. Leaning back in his chair, stare unwavering as your hips veer left and right with the effort of scrubbing out dried cereal, and folding his arms. He blinks again, this time with more confidence in his chest.

There’s a reason you’re here, and it isn’t because you’re Curly’s kid.

“Hey,” Jimmy’s voice is buried in the back of his throat, all gravel and rock beneath every different thing he actually wants to say. Eyes rounding over your exposed ass cheeks, “Why’d your parents split?”

Your guttural offense is pretty indicating, “Grant’s not my dad.”

“You still live with him.”

“Yeah, when I’m not on campus.”

Jimmy’s silence is so stagnant, you have to turn to confirm he’s still in the room.

Surprisingly, he is, and he’s staring right at you. Every muscle in his face stony, a hardset confidence as if he knows everything before he even opens his mouth, “Your mom’s just downtown, isn’t she?”

Rather than rationalize -whether it’s a lie or not- you swallow the nerves in your throat and turn back on him, “Why do you care so much? Do you wanna live here forever or something?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Then be curious about why you don’t have your own place yet,” if you spent even a second longer at that sink then you would’ve gotten a ceramic bowl buried into your skull.

Luckily you immediately break for the stairs, jumping them two at a time (joke’s on your stupid ass anyway, now he’s memorizing the way your tits jiggle up each step).

Not out on errands.

Jimmy’s leaning against the rickety cart with a plastic red handcover. Head drooped to one shoulder, silently observing as you stretch up to grab a jar of Curly’s favored peanut butter from the top shelf.

“You can ask for help,” Jimmy sneers.

You ignore him, flagrantly. Even kicking a leg onto the bottom shelf, selfishly knocking over thin blue boxes of macaroni with your other foot stretching backward. One hand clutching the middle of the bay for purchase, the other high above your head.

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” he sighs and sinks back.

Suddenly thankful he did because at this angle with you reaching for that height: your little cotton panties suctioned against your pussy lips become visible beneath that teeny pleated skirt. A studded belt hangs limply around the loops.

The swell of your ass is more obvious from down here, too.

Jimmy hangs a little more to the side, slowly fishing out his phone and holding it at his chest. Eyes drawing toward the screen as he ensures his flash is off before snapping a far away picture. Then two fingers crawl over the glass, pinching at your cunt and zooming in for another three pics.

Briefly, he wonders if he could get away with reaching out and pulling aside the gusset for the holy grail of shots.

Just as his hands are twitching to carry out the mull-over, you’re fucking turning. Sweaty and huffing,

“Okay, fine, can you grab this?”

Jimmy pockets his phone with an eye roll and easily swipes the orange-lidded jar into your cart.

Not at dinner.

“You get this every night?” Jimmy asks, undeniably lewd with thighs sprawled apart on the chair. A hand clutching either knee.

Curly shrugged, hands politely folded over his abdomen, “Not every night. Sometimes we order in.”

“Your own housewife in training,” Jimmy whistles, watching you at the stove and not bothering to temper his volume, “Guy that puts a ring on it will be lucky.”

Out of minuscule respect for Curly, Jimmy decides against vocalizing the rest of his statement.

Still, though, Curly has the gall to look offended. Broad chest puffing out and thick jaw setting into a disturbed square. Hands curling around each other less politely now, and his knee starts bouncing as he says,

“Won’t need a husband when dad’s here for her.”

Jimmy can only laugh as you visibly cringe upon the utterance of that dreaded ‘D’-word.

“What do you think of that, kid?” Jimmy rolls one elbow over the back of his chair, spare hand now flattening over the table, “No husband, just Dad.”

“He’s not my dad…” you grumble, not unlike that pouty, sulky teenager you were when you and Jimmy first met.

“Well, any dating prospects?” it’s the most tender Jimmy has been with you yet, and by the immediate glow in your face he can read your appreciation.

Curly, however, is the one to answer -a much more rotten expression written over his face, “No,” he frightens himself with how aggressively the two letters spit out, so he tries again with the tiniest, fakest chuckle, “No suitors yet.”

And now you’re pissed, glaring at Curly before whipping right back around.

Jimmy revels in it. Watching you and your step-dad silently bat one argument over the other. He wonders if you two really think it’s all over his head.

And certainly not at night.

On the way to your room is Curly’s. Curly is a deep sleeper, so Jimmy has never felt more assured than right now as he twists the handle on your bedroom door.

Unlocked. As it should be. Your sweet heart entirely unassuming to the dangerous wiles of men twice your age.

He bets your pussy is even sweeter than your heart. It has to be when your personality is so gratingly cliche. Maybe by the end he’ll be even more bewitched by you than Curly.

The thought makes him snort.

Steadily planting a knee onto your marshmallow mattress, Jimmy soothes one hand over your thigh -- kicked over fluffy pink blankets. Soft skin that bounces right back into place. Firm and dewy. Your body embraces him completely, which he already knew it would.

A crackly groan makes his eyes dart from your thigh to your face scrunching at the sudden contact.

Silently, he squeezes, just to see the exact moment you rouse behind those batting lashes.

Initially, you smile -tight-lipped- until your bleary vision makes out the figure on your bed. That exact moment, when you realize who’s groping up your thigh, is when your smile tears apart.

“Calm down,” he husks into the open air of your bedroom, calloused palms cutting along your waist and pausing at the warmth of your collar bones, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

Now is when you kick. A startled gasp shoved back behind the palm of his hand, fingers clamping tight around your jaw. He swings a leg over yours, effectively straddling your pelvis. Grinding down between your legs, something thick and hard protruding from the loose stripes of his pajama pants.

“Feel that?” he taunts, pressing against you harder, lowering his face by yours until the stiff scruff along his cheeks is tearing up your soft skin, “That’s my dick, and it’s going inside you.”

A scream is muffled against his thick palm, you smack at his ribs but he pushes forward without constraint, wrenching up your silk candy slips. The sleaziest little smirk smears over his entire face as your boobs spill out, he cuffs the material to your throat. Pressing your legs open with his own, kneeling on one of your thighs with his full weight and you’re sure the bone’s going to snap. Another scream dies against his meaty hand.

Reaching up, you knot one hand in his stringy hair -yanking out chunks of chestnut- and crushing fingerprints into his eyes.

“Be -fuckin’- nice,” Jimmy tugs you down the bed, blanketing your body with his, “to Uncle Jimmy, yeah?” he snickers in your wide-eyed, sweaty face, quickly swapping the hand over your mouth with his lips. Spearing your face open with his tongue, slobbering over you.

Burying your knees into Jimmy’s sides does about as much as it would if you flicked paper in his face.

Jimmy peels off your thin lace panties, balling them up in one hand and yoinking down his pants with the other. Stretchy hem now digging halfway down his thighs, he taps the hot head against your clit. Then sliding it down your slit, highlighting around your hole with two circles. Grunting against your lips, sinking just beneath the seam to drag back up toward the twitchy little pink bundle up top.

Licking over your tongue one final time, he saps up the final sweet mint taste from your toothpaste before pulling back. Pecking you, outrageously chaste for a man now bruising your tits with his fingers, before parting altogether.

Sneering, “Keep quiet for me,” and stuffing your own panties into your sodden, swollen mouth.

Jimmy heaves your knees over his shoulders, bending over you before sliding in -- staring you dead in the eyes as he lets out the most dramatic huff. You gasp as he sheathes in a single swing, throwing your head back at the sudden stretch with a grunt following.

“Soft and warm,” he hums, biting at your pulse with sick glee, “Tight.”

You wail in protest, but it gurgles out a little sweeter. Just a tad higher pitched than you mean for. Eyes watering and back arching as you try budging for even slight breathing room.

Stubbornly, Jimmy locks his chest against your bouncing tits. Eyes needling down at the pillowing flesh, hard nipples peeking out with every ragged thrust. Thrusts that get smoother, steadier, wetter the longer he’s inside you.

Cold teeth dig into your neck, velvet tongue laving the area as he sucks welts along your skin. Hot pants fanning the juncture with every gushy dive of his hips. Then he laughs out the cruelest dig when that first splat rings around the sweltering room:

“Take it so good, princess,” just to continue with a snide, “Knew you would.”

Biting down on your spit-soaked panties provides superficial comfort, squeals still leaking from the corners of your mouth. Muffled, but not silenced.

“What would your old man think about this?” he chokes, pulling up enough to stare down at your pinched face, “You’re gonna cum for me.”

One of his hands settles over your throat, crushing the sides warmly. Not enough to actually choke you, but just so there’s bruises by tomorrow morning.

“He’ll have to get rid of one of us,” Jimmy hisses coldly, now scarring his bottom lip with crooked teeth, brows furrowing as his cock twitches in your sucking cunt.

it better be you he thinks curly was mine before you

He spits down onto where you’re swallowing him up -- frothy spit dribbling cooly over your clit and along the broken seam he fucks. Instinctually, your hips buck up for it -for more. Thighs clamping around his neck and throat bobbing with a trapped moan.

A practically inaudible yadyyee manages to break past your gag, Jimmy snickers as you crow louder aaatyyyy as you seize around and below him. Eyes flying open and nails scratching up to reopen silvery scars on his arms as you nearly choke on your own slick panties.

“And is this the part when I call you ‘baby’?” he draws a thumb beneath your shiny lip, spit webbing your skin together, “Whore,” is what he chooses instead, “Cumming like the pretty slut I knew you were.”

And just like the slut he knew you were the second he saw you, you grind into his pistoning. Tears caking your lashes and cheeks flaming hot, your body still caves to any attention it’s given.

He knew it the second you were introduced to him. In a spaghetti strap and short shorts with bleached bangs. Dressed like every other little pornstar in the making. Hellbent on catching as many eyes as possible just to rip it away like he was some yippy puppy content to be played with and walked and given little treats. Maybe your dad was, but Jimmy never had that paternal instinct.

Jimmy just wanted to defile you.

And now you live under the same roof: you’re all his.

Last minute, Jimmy slides out easier than he went in and beats his cock into your pubes. Rivulets of your wetness roll down the curve of your ass with nothing to plug you up, sheets darkening beneath you.

Tugging your panties out so hard he nearly knocks out a tooth, Jimmy balls them again and licks up the drool from your chin. Knuckles catching your overstimulated clit as he frantically jerks off, hips cracking forward until your pelvis is streaked in thick white ropes.

Pitchy and broken you wail, “Daddy…!”

Jimmy could’ve cackled in your face, if not for the sound of metal clicking over his shoulder.

And maybe the sight before him -Curly in the doorway, clutching the brass knob hard enough for his knuckles to whiten- could’ve been terrifying. Men kill other men for touching their daughters, after all. But all that intimidation flies out your window, decorated with the daintiest peach curtains, as soon as Jimmy spots the tent in Curly’s boxers.

Curly reads the electric glint in his old friend’s eyes. Something bright and livelier than he’s seen from the man in a long while.

Something that makes him feel relieved he doesn’t have to keep the medicine cabinet locked.

Something that says: I know why your wife left you.

*** ***

[A Side: Grant Curly]

“It’s late, Grant…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

An eye roll is the last thing he wants to see. He scowls, drunkenly, and shoves his head into his hands with all the indignity of a child.

“You really think drinking makes you easier to talk to? It’s no wonder you make her so…”

“So what?”

The stilted silence preceding a sigh tells him the what he needs to know. Unhappiness permeates the house now. Having it all pinned on him feels so fucking unfair, so fucking untrue.

“You know what,” another sigh, this time more playful -more throaty and evidently annoyed, “Daddy.”

“I thought marriages didn’t fall apart until at least the fifth year…” he pouts up at you, again with all the righteousness of a toddler.

You smack his arm, “You guys have been dating longer, anyway. Besides, you kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out, right?”

“I thought we’d be okay.”

Two hands settle on either of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle between his shoulder blades and up toward his stiff neck. Pulling tense flesh until he’s all malleable and soft again.

Curly groans, pleased, and leans into your touch. Laying his head against the back of the couch to stare up at you. A lopsided smile gracing his lips as he confesses with whiskey-slick lips,

“You’re a blessing, sweetheart.”

You grace him with one of those humble, tight-lipped grins that make him all gooey in the center. A paternal feeling, he’s sure.

Whenever your mother upsets him, you’re there.

More things make Curly want to kill himself than they don’t these days. He has the sick urge to fellate a gun after most minor inconveniences, and suddenly the only way he can feel true joy is when someone half his age is fawning over him. It should be another reason he wants to die, but it isn’t. You could never be.

He places a thick hand on yours and grins, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Looping both arms around his neck, you settle your heated cheek over the back of Curly’s head and squeeze. Flushing your breasts against his back with a sugary whisper, “Probably die miserable.”

“Probably,” he reaches up to squeeze your wrist.

Knowledge would be him pushing you off right now. Wisdom would be kicking you out of his house. But that ripe, sweating instinct makes him encourage you to slither over the back of the couch.

He pulls at your cropped sweater, laughing in your flustered face as you giggle. Legs wild before you’re slipping into his lap, thighs spreading yours apart with his hands on your hips. Thumbs scarring up your bare ribs.

“How are you so like her, but so different?” he wonders aloud.

“I dunno…” you shrug off shyly. Hips ticking against his.

“Mhmm,” he lets you and leans back, eyes fluttering shut as warmth eats him from both directions. Your body is sweet while the alcohol is savory. Both ways, he’s treated with nothing but love.

Then there’s your lips on his cheek, he smiles into it. Turns his head just to kiss the air above your own cheek as he sighs,

“Thank you, baby.”

“Daddy,” your hips cant down harder and now he has to plant both feet firmly in the ground to keep from thrusting up. That would just be inappropriate, right? But no more inappropriate than what you utter next, “Can I suck you off?”

His eyes peel open one at a time. Bloodshot. Confused, “Huh?”

“I know Mom doesn’t,” you grind down on him again. The material of your oversized sleep shirt riding up. Nothing but pink lace panties greet him. Damp and sticking to his shorts, “But I really want to…”

“Uhh,” maybe if you could let him think for a second, he’d have replied better. Maybe if you could stop rubbing that wet cunt on him for even one breath, he could’ve given you the emphatic NO you deserved. But you didn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead, he just sat you on the floor and waved with one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine, yes.”

Already, the carpet burns your knees. But you rock forward and unclink his buttons.

Without technique, but eager and hungry: your mouth sinks onto his cock. Feeling it twitch and thicken on your tongue as you whine. Hollowing your cheeks with both hands burying manicured nails into his meaty thighs. Noisily slurping the spit dribbling past your gaping lips.

Sucking more than you can handle, trying to impress Grant by tickling your nose with his wiry gold pubes just makes you gag. An abrupt gush of thick slobber waxing his pelvis.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, throwing his head back with bending brows, “Be careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself…”

Despite himself, he’s knotting hand at the back of your head. Not-so-subtly pushing your forehead against his abs.

Curly cannot verbally explain or comprehend his relationship with you in labels, the guilt just eats him up.

The comfort of a stepdaughter should be non-existent -or at the least temporary, but you’re still here. You love him and he adores you. He has no strength to beat you away.

*** he really should just die ***

Little under a year spins by before his phone rings, interrupting the unquestioned domesticity.

You caught bits of that call while perched on the kitchen counter. Bare legs left to swing while Curly stirred creamer into his coffee. His old Pony Express shirt swamped over you. A girl’s voice blisters out from the other side. You glare at the speaker in juvenile jealousy despite how displeased Curly seems to be listening to her.

Occasionally he’ll nod, no matter how ridiculous the notion is given you’re the only one looking. Jaw popping. Fingers tapping.

“But he’s alive?” is the first thing of substance he says.

Curly is Jimmy Zare’s emergency contact because Jimmy never had a Misses or a Senior to count on. Not even the highly inappropriate relationship with a young girl to lean on.

You assume that is all connected to the phone call that suddenly has him all serious.

“Okay. I’ll be out there soon,” he nods again, making you want to rip his head off it’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes, “He can stay with me… I’ll be sure.”

He doesn’t look your way after hanging up. Instead, he spares a few minutes blankly staring into the cabinets.

Curly thinks Jimmy is like the sun. Big and angry and burning with barely contained passion. Making Curly mercury: small and burnt and the first to be swallowed when Jimmy inevitably blows up.

It’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes.

“Grant?” you murmur, head tilting.

He finally satisfies your need for attention. Eyes widening as if he spontaneously forgot and then remembered who he’s looking at. He smiles tightly and pats your knee like he’s trying to comfort a child after a lost softball game,

He even speaks to you like one.

“Uncle Jimmy’s staying with us for a bit,” before you can ask anything more, he turns away toward the front door, “Try not to fight with him.”

“Eugh… He’s weird!” you protest, “Can’t he stay at a hotel?!”

Curly pokes his head out and shakes it, disappointed, at you, “He’s staying with us,” then disappears to announce, “I’m going to pick him up! Be dressed when we get back!”

You wait until he’s slammed the front door behind him before muttering, “I am dressed.”

Uncle Jimmy is the type of person men shouldn’t trust their daughters with, so maybe this is a step forward. Somewhere in the knotted affair your life became, a gleaming light assures you this means Grant has his eyes on a new Mrs. Curly.

It’s so cute how stupid step-daughters are sometimes.

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @m-carriaga2021 + @reniverse 

[faithshouseofsmut]

Late night desires|| DBF!Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Summary— Kimi has been feeling things for his best friend’s daughter and little does he know that she wants him to.

Word count— 5364

Warnings — hints of prevy!Kimi somnphilia and oral male receiving and p in v

It is I Faith from faithshouseofchaos (I’m trying to find my followers I deleted my OG account)

The warm glow of the sunset spilled over the water, reflecting soft oranges and pinks across the surface. The Räikkönen family villa was alive with laughter and conversation. A small gathering, nothing extravagant—just close friends, family, and a few glasses of wine shared between them.

You wandered out onto the deck, the buzz of chatter fading behind you. The air was cooler out here, the scent of pine and lake mingling in the breeze. Leaning against the railing, you sipped from your glass, letting the quiet soothe you.

Behind you, the door slid open with a soft thud and a familiar, low voice cut through the stillness.

“Escaping already?”

You turned to see Kimi, glass in hand, his usual stoic expression softened by the golden light. He looked more relaxed than usual, though the sharpness in his eyes was still there—like he was always watching, always calculating.

“Just needed some air,” you said, smiling. “The conversations in there are… lively.”

He smirked faintly, stepping closer to lean on the railing beside you. “That’s one way to put it.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled only by the gentle lapping of water against the dock. You stole a glance at him, your heart doing a little flip despite your best efforts. He was dressed simply—black shirt, jeans—but something about the way he carried himself made him magnetic.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said, your tone teasing.

“I’m always quiet,” he shot back, his lips twitching into something that almost resembled a grin.

You laughed softly. “Fair point.”

The silence stretched again, but this time, it felt heavier. You could feel his gaze shift to you, lingering just long enough for the air to thicken. You turned to meet his eyes, and the intensity there caught you off guard.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, swirling the liquid in his glass as if it could drown whatever thoughts had crossed his mind.

“Nothing,” he muttered. But the way his fingers gripped the glass told you it was far from nothing.

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something in his demeanor tonight—something different. He seemed almost�� restless.

“Kimi,” you said softly, leaning a little closer. “Are you okay?”

He turned his head sharply as if your question startled him. For a split second, his mask slipped, and you saw something raw flicker across his face—something dark, something dangerous. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm indifference.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly, draining his glass. He straightened, stepping back. “You should go inside. It’s getting cold.”

You frowned, but before you could say anything, he was already walking away, leaving you alone with the lingering tension and the sound of your heartbeat.

The gathering had dwindled as the hours slipped by. Most of the guests had either left or retired to their rooms for the night. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch in the living room, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The warm, low light of the fire danced on the walls, and the room was blissfully quiet.

You thought you were alone until the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor caught your attention.

Kimi entered the room, his movements unhurried. He held a fresh glass of whiskey, the ice clinking softly as he walked. His gaze flicked to you briefly before he settled in the armchair across from you.

“Still awake?” he asked, his voice low, almost gravelly in the stillness.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much wine, maybe.”

He smirked faintly, taking a sip of his drink. “That’s a rookie mistake.”

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth quivering. “Noted, Mr. Expert.”

The silence between you felt different this timeless awkward, more charged. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he leaned back in the chair, his free hand resting on the armrest. He looked completely at ease, but there was a tension in the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“You always stay up this late?” he asked suddenly, his tone casual, but there was something else beneath it.

“Not always,” you replied. “But nights like these are nice. Quiet. Peaceful.”

He hummed in agreement, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His gaze flicked to you again, lingering this time.

“You’ve grown up a lot,” he said, his voice softer now.

The comment caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Just an observation.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you looked away, focusing on the fire instead. “Well, I’m not a kid anymore, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I know,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Something about the way he said it made you glance back at him. His eyes were on you again, and this time, the intensity in them was unmistakable. It made your stomach flip and your pulse quicken.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with unspoken tension. You weren’t sure who looked away first, but when you did, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“I should probably go to bed,” you said quickly, pushing the blanket off and standing. Your legs felt shaky, but you forced yourself to move toward the door.

“Goodnight,” Kimi said, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated for just a second, glancing back at him. His eyes were on you, dark and unreadable, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, before disappearing down the hall.

Behind you, Kimi sat motionless, his grip on the glass tightening as he watched you go. The darkness in his thoughts deepened, and for the first time in years, he didn’t know if he could control it.

The next morning the sun was already high in the sky when you finally made your way out of bed. The house was quiet, most of the guests were either sleeping off the wine or out enjoying the fresh air by the lake. You padded downstairs in a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt, your hair still slightly messy from sleep.

Grabbing a mug of coffee, you made your way to the back patio, your phone in hand. Settling into one of the chairs overlooking the water, you sipped your drink and called your best friend.

Kimi had been up for hours. He’d gone for a morning swim and was now in the garage, tinkering with one of the jet skis. The window in the garage overlooked the patio, and though he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, his attention was drawn to your voice floating through the open door.

“I don’t know,” you were saying, your tone light but tinged with curiosity. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately.”

Kimi froze, his hands stilling as he adjusted the machine. He wasn’t sure why he kept listening, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah, but only with someone I trust,” you continued, laughing softly. “Otherwise, it would just be weird, you know?”

There was a pause as your friend replied, her voice too faint for Kimi to hear.

“Well, I guess it’s like… giving up control but still feeling safe. Knowing the other person would never take it too far,” you explained. “It’s not about the idea itself—it’s about the person. Someone who wouldn’t hurt me.”

Another pause.

“No, I don’t have anyone in mind,” you said, laughing nervously. “It’s not like I’m about to just tell someone that.”

Kimi’s jaw tightened, and his heart beat faster as your words sank in. He knew he shouldn’t be listening. He should walk away, close the door, and do anything but stay rooted in place. But he couldn’t. The image your words painted—the trust, the vulnerability—was now burned into his mind.

“Okay, fine,” you said, your tone teasing. “If I had to choose… it would have to be someone older, I think. Someone calm, who knows what they’re doing.”

Kimi’s grip on the wrench tightened, his knuckles white.

“Someone who wouldn’t judge me,” you continued, your voice softer now. “Someone who’d take care of me, even in that kind of situation.”

Your friend said something that made you burst into laughter, breaking the tension in the air.

“Shut up!” you said, still laughing. “Anyway, I’m just saying it’s something I’d try. With the right person.”

Kimi forced himself to look away, his chest tight. He hated the way his thoughts spiraled, the way his mind filled in blanks it shouldn’t. He wasn’t that person. He couldn’t be.

But the darkness that had begun to creep in last night had now taken root, and he wasn’t sure he could stop it.

By mid-afternoon, the villa was alive again, with a few people lounging by the water or taking out jet skis. You were sitting on the dock, your legs dipped into the cool lake, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin. The earlier conversation with your friend had slipped from your mind, but the restlessness from last night lingered.

Kimi approached from the shore, a towel slung over his shoulder. His hair was still damp from another swim, and his shirt clung to him slightly, hinting at the toned muscles beneath. He stopped a few feet away, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“Mind some company?”

You looked up, squinting against the sunlight. “Of course not.”

He sat down beside you, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just watching the ripples in the water.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he said, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

“Just enjoying the peace,” you replied, glancing at him with a small smile. “It’s beautiful out here.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon. But his thoughts were far from peaceful. Your voice from earlier still echoed in his mind, the words replaying over and over. He tried to push them away, but they clung to him, feeding the darker side of his imagination.

“You and your friend were laughing pretty hard this morning,” he said after a moment, his tone carefully neutral.

Your stomach flipped. Had he overheard you? No, that was impossible. But something in his voice made you hesitate.

“Yeah,” you said cautiously. “Just… girl talk.”

He hummed, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

“Interesting conversation?” he asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “Nothing you’d care about,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off.

Kimi’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, but his eyes were darker than usual. “You’d be surprised what I care about.”

The way he said it made your breath hitch, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Well,” you said finally, trying to keep your tone light. “I don’t think you’d want to hear about my… preferences.”

Kimi’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back on his hands, his body language deceptively relaxed.

“Preferences can say a lot about a person,” he said casually. “Like trust, for example. That’s not something everyone gives easily.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you were certain he knew it. “Trust is important,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the water.

“Very,” he agreed, his voice softer now, almost a murmur.

The tension between you was palpable, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You felt exposed, like he could see right through you.

“I—uh—I should check on my dad,” you said abruptly, standing up and brushing off your shorts.

Kimi looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “He’s probably fine,” he said, his tone calm. But there was something in his eyes that made it hard to move.

“I still should,” you said quickly, your voice faltering.

You turned and walked away, feeling his gaze on you the entire time. Once you were out of sight, you leaned against a tree, trying to steady your breathing.

Back on the dock, Kimi sat motionless, his mind racing. He knew he should stop. He knew this was dangerous—wrong. But the way you looked at him, the way you reacted to his words, only pulled him deeper.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he could resist any more.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the lake. You were in the kitchen, putting away the remnants of dinner while everyone else sat outside, chatting and laughing around the firepit. The warmth of the day had given way to a cooler breeze, and the house was quiet, save for the occasional clink of dishes.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt his presence before you saw him. Turning, you found Kimi standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He’d changed into a simple black sweater and jeans, but his eyes held the same intensity they had earlier on the dock.

“Need help?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

He didn’t move, didn’t look away. The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken. You turned back to the counter, trying to focus on the task in front of you, but your hands trembled slightly.

“You seemed distracted today,” he said, stepping into the room.

You laughed nervously, not turning around. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Hmm.”

The sound was noncommittal, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel him getting closer, his presence is overwhelming.

“Anything on your mind?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a murmur.

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the dish in your hands. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

“Liar.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and charged. You turned to face him, your heart pounding. “Excuse me?”

Kimi was closer now, just a few feet away. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with something darker, something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply.

“I haven’t—”

“Yes, you have.”

His tone was firm but not angry, and that only made it harder to respond. You opened your mouth to protest again, but no words came out.

“Why?” he asked, stepping even closer.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said finally, your voice shaky. “I just—”

“You just what?”

The proximity, the intensity in his gaze—it was too much. You took a step back, but the counter stopped you. He didn’t touch you, didn’t move closer, but the space between you felt electric.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You don’t know,” he repeated, his tone almost teasing.

“No.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension was unbearable, and you felt like you might shatter under the weight of it.

“I heard you this morning,” he said suddenly, his voice dropping even lower.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“On the phone,” he clarified. “Talking to your friend.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, mortified. “You—You were eavesdropping?”

“Not on purpose,” he said. “But you weren’t exactly quiet.”

You pressed your hands against the counter, your mind racing. “It was just a stupid conversation,” you said quickly, your voice shaking. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Didn’t it?”

The question made your breath catch. You forced yourself to look at him, and the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to think.

“You said it was about trust,” he continued. “About feeling safe.”

Your throat tightened. “Kimi, I—”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, cutting you off.

The question was like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, unable to speak, unable to move.

“Yes,” you whispered finally.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes softened slightly. “Then why are you running?”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. This time, his hands came to rest on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He didn’t touch you, but the heat of his body was almost unbearable.

“Kimi, this isn’t—”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “If you want me to stop, just say it.”

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, but there was none.

“I—”

You couldn’t say it.

The tension snapped like a rubber band, and before you could think, his lips were on yours. The kiss was firm, almost desperate, and it left you breathless. You froze for a moment, stunned, but then your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered again, his voice strained.

But you didn’t.

The house was silent, the kind of stillness that came only in the early hours of the morning. The guests had gone to bed hours ago, and even the lake outside seemed calm, its surface undisturbed under the pale glow of the moon.

Kimi lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had eluded him all night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you—your flushed cheeks, your trembling voice, the way you’d admitted you weren’t immune to the pull between you.

It was maddening.

The house felt suffocating, the walls too close, his thoughts too loud. Without fully realizing what he was doing, Kimi got out of bed. His feet carried him down the hallway, past closed doors, until he stood in front of yours.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He knew he shouldn’t be here, that this was crossing a line he couldn’t uncross. But something deeper, darker, urged him forward.

Carefully, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible. The room was dim, lit only by the faint light spilling in from the hallway. His eyes adjusted quickly, finding your sleeping form curled up under the blankets.

You looked peaceful, your face relaxed in a way he rarely saw when you were awake. The sight made something twist in his chest—guilt, longing, a need he couldn’t name.

He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. The sound made you stir slightly, but you didn’t wake. He stood there for a moment, his hands clenched at his sides, trying to convince himself to leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he moved closer, his footsteps silent on the carpeted floor. He stopped at the edge of your bed, his gaze tracing the soft curve of your face, the way your hair fanned out across the pillow.

You murmured something in your sleep, turning slightly, and the movement made the blanket slip down, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder. Kimi’s breath hitched, and he forced himself to take a step back.

What the hell am I doing?

He knew he should leave, that staying here was a betrayal of the trust you’d given him. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. The vulnerability of seeing you like this, so unguarded, was intoxicating.

“Kimi…”

Your voice, soft and slurred with sleep, startled him. His heart pounded as he froze, waiting to see if you’d wake.

But your eyes didn’t open.

You’d said his name. Even in sleep, you were thinking of him.

His eyes locked onto your parted lips, the words "What the hell am I doing?" echoing in his mind but growing fainter by the second. He saw your shoulder bare, the curve of your neck inviting. He unclenched his hands, his fingers slowly reaching out towards you. His fingertips brushed against the soft, warm skin of your shoulder, barely a whisper of a touch. He lingered there for a heartbeat, two, his pulse throbbing beneath his skin. Then, with an exhalation that bordered on a shudder, he withdrew his hand.

He stood there for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the place where his fingers had been. The temptation to reach out again, to touch you, to be near you, was overwhelming. Finally, he made a decision and carefully sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs brushing against the covers. He sat there, staring at you, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't afford to have. His hand reached out again, this time resting gently on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of your neck. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours.

His lips hovered just above yours, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath. For a moment he hesitated, knowing he was crossing a line, but the temptation was too great. Slowly, he closed the remaining distance, his lips brushing against yours in the gentlest of kisses. As his lips met yours, Kimi felt a jolt of electricity course through him. The kiss was feather-light, barely there, but it ignited something deep within him. He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he searched your sleep-softened features.

His cock was painfully hard as he remembered your words from yesterday and how you wanted to try Somnophilia with some who you trusted and someone older. Well, you trusted him and he was older. He untied his pants slowly, freeing his hard cock. He gently pushed your legs apart and nearly melted at the sight there you were peacefully asleep only wearing a t-shirt and panties. Taking a deep breath he slowly peeled them down your legs and pocketed them for later.

Carefully, he climbed onto the bed hovering over you and he positioned himself between them. He looked at you one last time, his heart racing, before slowly pushing his hips forward, his thick cock slowly entering you as you slept. Fuck you're so tight.

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly slid deeper inside you, inch by inch. One hand supported his weight while the other moved to your hip, holding you steady as he began to move. His pace was slow, careful, knowing you were asleep. Jesus Christ... you feel so good he stays here with his cock buried inside you and dies a happy man.

He started to pick up speed, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he fucked you while you slept. The sound of his pants rustling, his breath hitching, and the soft squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy filled the room. Fuck fuck fuck...here he was a man in his 40s fucking his best friend's daughter like he was a horny teenager.

His muscles tensed with each thrust, his mind racing with the taboo nature of what he was doing. The fact that he was fucking his best friend's daughter - sleeping innocently beneath him - was driving him wild. Shouldn't... fucking shouldn't be doing this... but fuck...it felt good.

Kimi's thrusts became more urgent, his cock plunging deeper into your unresisting body. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming in its forbidden nature. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to maintain control. Fuck... it's so wrong but... fucking hell... you feel amazing.

“Mmmhmm” you moaned softly as you subconsciously began to move your hips barely awake. You reached up and pulled him closer.

His hand moved from your hip to your thigh, pulling your leg up higher and spreading you wider. He angled his hips differently, his thick cock hitting a new spot inside you with each thrust. His breathing became heavier, more ragged as he chased his release. Your pussy is gripping his cock so perfectly... fuck... His fingers dug slightly into your thigh as he continued to fuck you, each thrust becoming more deeper.

Unable to hold back any longer, Kimi buried his cock deep inside you one final time, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. Ahhh... fuck yes... He groaned softly, his cum shooting deep into your sleeping pussy. Panting heavily, he remained still inside you for a long moment, savoring the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. Slowly, he withdrew, his softened cock slipping out with a soft squelch. He quickly tucked himself away, trembling hands fumbling with his pants.

The next morning when you woke up you noticed the mess between your legs and your panties were messing. What the actual fuck? You thought then you vaguely recalled the dream you had about him. In your dream, you remember how he fucked you hard deep, and slow. How Kimi gripped your hips and hit that spot that drove you crazy as he groaned in your ear.

It was almost too realistic to be a dream. Getting up out of bed you walked into the bathroom to clean yourself up walking into the bathroom you flicked the lights on taking a look in the mirror you noticed a bruise on the side of your leg confused you lifted your shirt and noticed that the bruise in question wasn’t just a bruise but a hand print.

“So it wasn’t a dream,” you say out loud to yourself.

Something about the thought of Kimi fucking in your sleep made your stomach drop and give you butterflies at the same time. You weren’t mad about it, you wanted it hell you often got off to the thought of Kimi fucking you.

Smiling to yourself you cleaned yourself up when a thought popped up in your mind after you cleaned yourself up you shut the light off and pulled on a pair of shorts walking out of the room you noticed that the house was quiet.

Quietly you walked down the hall to Kimi's room with your hand on the doorknob. You slowly turned it and opened up the door and stuck your head in the door noticing that he was still sleeping.

Slipping in the door you softly closed it and walked over to the bed stopping when you noticed a familiar pair of panties on the nightstand…your panties.

“Dirty bastard” you mumbled under your breath.

There he laid in his bed peacefully asleep. He was shirtless and in a pair of shorts partially covered by the blanket. Reaching forward you moved the blanket and climbed up on the bed settling in between his legs. You watched him for a moment before you reached out and pulled his cock out of his shorts.

Watching as his face scrunches you licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip then you lightly pressed kisses along his shaft. Kimi stirs slightly in his sleep, his breathing hitching as he feels a warm, wet sensation on his cock. His hips twitch, pushing his member further out of his shorts.

Kimi's eyes flutter open, his gaze immediately drawn to the sight of you kneeling between his legs, his cock now fully erect in your grasp. A groan escapes his lips as your tongue swirls around the tip. "Mm, is that you, baby? Fuck that feels good..."

His voice husky with sleep and desire "I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me, could you? Little minx..." He props himself up on his elbows, watching you intently. pulling off him you looked at him “like you’re one to talk. you took my panties dirty bastard” you retort.

Kimi chuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, I couldn't resist, could I? You wear those pretty things just for me, don't you?" He reaches out and runs a hand through your hair, gently tugging on it.

“Who says they were for you?” You ask looking up at him biting your bottom lip taking his cock back in your mouth.

Kimi’s body shudders at the feeling of your mouth, her breath hitching as your words sink in. “Who else would they be for then?” His voice is low, dripping with confidence, as his fingers trace the curve of her waist. “I hear you on the phone with your friends, talking about how no boy your age can satisfy you. How they don’t know how to touch you the way you need.”

His lips hover close to her ear, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adds, “And then, late at night, when you think no one’s listening, I hear those sweet little sounds you make, trying so hard to get off. But it’s still not enough for you, is it?”

Kimi’s cheeks flush with heat, her eyes darting away, but sits up and then he tilts her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You need a man, Kimi. An older man. Someone who knows exactly what you want before you even ask.” His cocky tone is unmistakable, yet there’s a softness in the way his thumb brushes against her jawline, leaving her breathless. “So yeah,” he murmurs, his lips grazing hers, “they’re for me.”

Your body shudders at the feeling of his mouth, your breath hitching as his words sink in. “Who else would they be for then?” His voice is low, dripping with confidence, as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. “I hear you on the phone with your friends, talking about how no guy your age can satisfy you. How they don’t know how to touch you the way you need.”

His lips hover close to your ear, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adds, “And then, late at night, when you think no one’s listening, I hear those sweet little sounds you make, trying so hard to get off. But it’s still not enough for you, is it?”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you instinctively try to look away, but he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You need a man,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your jawline. “An older man. Someone who knows exactly what you want before you even ask.”

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, his cocky tone making it impossible to look away. “So yeah,” he says, his lips grazing yours, “they’re for me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with tension, as he watches your reaction. You swallow hard, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His thumb traces your bottom lip, his dark eyes locked on yours, daring you to respond, to deny him.

“But,” he continues, his voice softening but still laced with that same infuriating confidence, “if I’m wrong… if you don’t want me, tell me now. Push me away.” His hand slides down to your hip, gripping it firmly but not forcefully, like he’s testing your resolve. “But I don’t think you will. Because deep down, you know I’m right.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Your body betrays you, leaning into his touch even as your mind races with the weight of his words. His hand slides up your back, fingers splaying as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your jawline.

“See?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “You can’t resist. You don’t want to. And I don’t blame you. No one else can give you what I can.”

You shiver at the intensity in his voice, your hands instinctively clutching at his shirt. “You’re so damn stubborn,” he says with a low chuckle, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “But I like that about you. Makes it all the more satisfying when you finally give in.”

Your resolve falters, and your fingers tighten their grip. His name escapes your lips in a soft, breathless whisper, and he smirks, knowing he’s already won. “That’s it,” he says, his voice a low growl, pulling you even closer. “Don’t hold back. Not with me finish what you started.”

Releasing his grip on you, you crawled back down his bed and took his cock back in your one more time.

“That’s it baby just like that.”

[anonomano]

Connection ~ Carlos Sainz

Prolouge

Mafia!Carlos Sainz x Fem,Arranged!Reader

Part one part two

synopsis: Carlos is forced into a marriage that he doesn’t want. But he isn’t the only unhappy one…

warnings: smut 18+ eventually, violence, bad writing this is my first time, lack of knowledge about the mafia

Carlos Sainz Sr. had just died. A heart attack. He was a well respected, and feared, man; the leader of the Sainz crime family. He left in his wake the opening of that position.

The man who would take that role is his son, Carlos Jr.

No one has seen Carlos in years, the story is that he fought with his father and left to travel the world. Sleeping his way through each hemisphere. The only one he kept in touch with was his youngest sister, they were inseparable as children and that closeness never really changed. But, after hearing the news of his fathers death, Carlos came home to fill the power vacuum and protect his family.

You were close with your family; your father was Sainz Sr.’s right hand man, and your brothers have worked closely with him for years. But your mother wanted to keep you out of the family business so you really knew nothing about it. You were innocent, so innocent that you were still a virgin, you wanted to wait till marriage. Your mother told you that one day you could find your prince charming, marry him, and spend your lives together.

When Carlos came back he was told that he needed to settle down, get married and have kids. He needed to carry on the family legacy and provide an heir in case anything happens to him. He was very unhappy about this.

“Why?! It doesn’t matter what I’m doing in my own life!” he shouted pacing aroud his fathers, his office. His mother was sitting on the desk watching him. She was still mourning, dressed in black with a veil covering her face, she wore the family pearls that his father gave her when they got married, her makeup and hair done perfectly as it always was.

“Carlos, sweetheart, it matters” she stated “it is no longer just your life, its the family’s” she stood walking over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders “you need a wife, someone who can take care of you, and a mother for your children” she took off the pearl necklace she was wearing, placing them on the desk “when your father and I got married we were in the same position, but it was the best thing we could have done… we got you” she cradles his face in her hands “and your sisters. We didn’t know each other before we got married but we grew to care about each other”

“Fine” Carlos resigned “Will you give me some time,? I need to go through some things… and think.”

He watches his mother leave the room perfectly put together. He never knew their marriage was arranged; he was always under the impression that they fell in love and got married. Did they even love each other? Was his mother forced into this life? He holds the pearls in his hand, perfectly polished, and rarely worn by his mother.

——————————————————————————

You were doing your hair in the mirror; tying a baby pink bow in. The pink perfectly matches the flowers on your dress. Your make up was done lightly, your mother didn’t like it when you wore too much. Some simple mascara and some pink lipgloss was almost too much for her.

A knock at your door startles you. “Darling?” it was your father “Can I come in?”

“Of course daddy!” you open the door, a smile on your face. “What do you need?” you question, cocking your head to the side like an innocent dog.

“Darling, we need to talk” he sits on your bed patting the place beside him “You know how Mr. Sainz just died?” you nod “Well his son, Carlos, is taking over the family buisness. And he needs someone to…share that responsibility with. We think… that person, should be you. Do you understand?”

“But, I don’t know anything about the family business.” You shake your head “you made sure of that. How could I help?” Your father stands, sighs and glaces around searching for the words.

“Darling…he needs a wife. I would like for you to marry him” you stare at him in shock “now I know your mother has always told you that you would fall in love and get married and maybe you will fall in love but this is about business and I need you to do this for me—“

“okay”

“—I have always provided for you and…okay? okay…okay… great I will tell your mother and send her up here to talk to you about…things” He kisses your forehead “Thank you, Darling, truly” he swiftly leaves the room closing the door behind him leaving you behind dreaming about a kindhearted man.

You knew nothing about Carlos Jr.; you barely knew of his existence. But, if he was anything like his father, who had treated you kindly, you would be happy.

[choerrysjubiles]

Cognac and Spice: part 2

Pairing: Anton x fem!reader

Warning: Smut! fingering, nipple play, protected sex (yay!), mentions of reader being small/petite, anton cums in his pants <3

wc: 2k

a/n: merry christmas <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The love you had for your boyfriend far outweighed the love you had for those parties. After 3 long hours of small appetizer sized meals, hour long speeches from every high executive, and the mind numbing small talk with their invites you was finally free.

Sitting in the car, Anton and you were decompressing from the hours of standing and fake smiling, their customer service voices tiring them. After some time relaxing against the seats, Anton finally started the car and made the way back home.

The walk inside felt like eternity, the staircase felt longer, the elevator ride was slower, finally walking inside you two took your uncomfortable shoes off and collapsed onto the couch.

You felt your ankle, slightly swollen and a touch numb. Your feet felt the same, but with more pulses of pain. Anton loosened his tie, undoing a button or two on his dress shirt. Sitting beside you, Anton grabbing one of your legs to lay across his thighs.

"Are you in pain?" He asks, voice as gentle as ever.

He unconsciously began rubbing and massaging your calf.

"Only my heels. Everything else feels fine."

Anton leaned over, grabbing you to scoot right next to him, "That's good."

"Is it?" You side eyed him.

"I can easily carry you, when and when you're not injured."

He laid a kiss along your temple.

Sitting there, relaxing into the cushions, Anton smelt the distant fragrance of that perfume from earlier, unsure if it was from the couch or your skin. Rubbing his thumb into your shoulder, he adjusted in his seat.

"Anton." You said, a bit more sternly than you'd expected.

He tensed for a second, "What?"

"Again? Didn't we have sex earlier?"

"That was, like, four hours ago. And I'm not getting horny. You might be but I can control myself."

He wasn't lying exactly, he could go another round or two but he had enough self control to stop himself.

"You always rub your thumb on me when you're getting hard."

"No way." He laughed.

Looking down into his lap, you saw enough evidence of his semi-hard dick to be correct.

"Well would you look at that, you've done something, huh." Anton teases.

Laughing, you leaned over and kissed him.

"Would you like to fix that yourself or do you need help?"

"I'd like to smell more of that perfume."

You stifled a laugh, "I never took you for a smell guy."

"And I never took you for a perfume kind of girl." He paused for a second. "I mean, I just expect you to wear florals or fruity smelling perfumes. Nothing like that one."

You leaned in, moving to the side when he leaned in for a kiss.

"I like a lot things." You smiled. "Now, if you wanna have sex can we go to the bedroom?"

Anton laughed, standing up from the couch to scoop you into his arms. He was ridiculously strong, being a former athlete and regular at his gym, Anton could pick you like you weighed nothing.

Walking into your bedroom, the sheets were still messy from your session earlier. Setting you down, Anton took his jacket off before climbing onto the bed.

"Can you hand me the bottle?" You asked, smiling up at him.

"The perfume?" He asked, freezing in place.

"Yes, please."

Anton stood up and slowly walked over to the perfume tray, picking up the perfume and walking back to the bed. You opened the lid before moving to unbutton Anton's shirt, spraying the perfume onto his chest.

"Oh?" He sat there, a little stunned.

You undid your dress, pulling the straps down your shoulders as you sprayed the perfume right between your breasts before setting in down onto your nightstand.

"Let's fuck."

Anton laughed before diving in to kiss you, his soft lips melting against yours as his hands carefully held your jaw. Taking a deep breath of the perfume, freshly spritzed and still in the air, Anton descended down to your neck and shoulders, kissing and biting his way down.

"Mmmm." He moans, feeling your soft breasts.

You looked at his face, flushed and displaying a level of pleasure you'd never seen on him. Grabbing his chin to kiss him again, you undid the rest of his buttoned shirt and slid it off of his shoulders. Hands resting on his pecs, your tongues moved together as you began toying with him, a light graze along his nipples before moving down towards his belt.

Anton grabbed onto your hips, grinding his bulge against your pelvis. A high pitched sigh left your mouth open for him to push his tongue further into.

You unbuckled his belt, too lazy to slide it off of his pants before you began unzipping him. As you attempted to slide his pants down, Anton slipped your bra down and pushed your dress off.

"I've been thinking about you all fucking night."

Moving down, he sucked and licked at your breasts, ripping the sheer pantyhose, he kept his face between your boobs as he got a whip of the perfume.

Hearing the sharp ripping sound you felt your thighs close in, desperate for any stimulation.

"All night?" You gasped.

Still at your breasts, Anton sucked and slid his right hand further, feeling the hot skin as he ghosted down to your clothed core. Your hands grabbed onto his head, fingering combing through his long hair.

"I was thinking about how soft your tits are."

His tongue drug across your breast, leaving a wet trail that cooled as the air hit your skin. Anton massaged your inner thighs, rubbing and swiping across your leg as his saliva began dripping down to your ribcage.

Your moans grew needier as he switched to your other breast. His left hand moving up to pinch at your nipples. His right hand trailed down your stomach before sliding underneath your panties. His pointer and middle fingers feeling your entrance and spreading your arousal around your pussy as you sucked in a deep breath of air. Breast pushing further into Anton's mouth.

Anton continued feeling your soaked pussy before pushing a finger in, holding it there as he moved his face into the middle of your breasts. Sliding his finger in and out at an agonizingly slow pace.

Anton's left hand maneuvered to scoop both of your breasts into his hands at he took both nipples into his mouth. Lightly sucking and licking onto them as he continued to finger you.

The hotter your skin got the stronger the perfume fragranced the room.

"Fuck, Anton."

The elbows you attempted to hold yourself up with caved in as you fell backwards onto the mattress. Just as Anton added a finger, he had to scoop your breasts back together. Grazing his teeth across your skin as he returned his fingers to your dripping pussy.

"I was thinking of how you'd look right now."

Anton began pumping in and out even faster as his hips unconsciously rutted into the mattress. His thick fingers pounded into your pussy, feeling every ridge and curl of his fingers as you were in ecstasy.

"Your desperate moaning as I'm fucking you senseless."

Feeling so much as once, you were shocked at your own orgasm, coming from seemingly nowhere. Anton slowed down as his mouth stayed latched onto your breast, grinding into the mattress feeling the rough material of his underwear.

A few more ruts and Anton felt himself cum, sucking in a deep breath as he froze, hips lightly rutting into the mattress. His cheeks flushed as he looked up at you.

Cooling down from his orgasm, Anton removed his pants and underwear. You began calming down as you turned onto your side, Anton crawling on top of you.

Smiling down at you, Anton asks if you had energy for another round.

"How do you want me?" You smirked, eyes heavy as you eyed his body.

"We can go like this." Anton responds, freeing your legs from the pantyhose and soaked underwear.

He lifted your leg above his shoulder.

You leaned over to the nightstand to grab at a condom. Tearing it from the strip before handing it to Anton. Tearing and wrapping himself, Anton carefully aligns himself at your core.

Even with his fingering, you were still so small, it's daunting to see his cock against your pussy. Swiping his head down from your clit to your entrance, he pushed the head in, gaining a whine from you.

Anton scooted a little closer as he pushed more of his length inside you, savoring the sight of seeing you stretch around his girth. He knows he's a big guy but seeing just how big he is, it's a confidence booster.

When he pushed all the way in, your thigh flushed against his stomach and chest, Anton let out an airy moan. Finally able to feel you wrapped around him again after hours of agony at the party.

His eyes closed, savoring the feeling of you surrounding him. Looking down, he eyed your body: the way your hair sprawled across the bed, your hands grasping at the sheets, the slight bounce and shake of your breasts.

Anton stayed still for a second before moving at a snails pace. Slowing dragging his length in and out of you, collapsed onto the bed with a light layer of sweat making your body glow.

"You feelin' good?" He slurred, too caught up in the tight grip you had around him.

"You're so good." You moaned.

He loved how fucked out you looked. As much as you loved how intense he was while fucking you, Anton couldn't get enough of that red cheeked, lust-filled expression you always had.

His eyes flicked from your face to your core, seeing your moans fall out of your soft lips before looking down to your dripping core squeeze around him. He was intoxicated with everything happening as the light smell of cognac coming back. He wasn't sure if it was from the spritz on your body or his.

Right hand holding your thigh up, his left hand goes to your hand, lacing your fingers together.

"Anton." You gasps.

"I'm right here." He smiled down at you, voice sounding so sweet as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand.

You looked up at him, eyes clouded with lust daring to cum with every thrust he sent into your core. Anton felt his dick twitch as he looked at you, that exact look was what he loved the most.

He leaned down, testing your flexibility, as he laid a kiss onto your cheek. With your free hand, you gently moved his face to properly kiss him. Gasps and whimpers escape the two as Anton continued thrusting into you.

His rhythm becoming sloppy and fast as you continued laying gentle kisses onto each other. Sometimes it's on your lips and sometimes it's on a cheek or chin.

"Ah, mmm, I'm getting close." You sighed, brows furrowed at you felt surrounded by him.

Looking up at Anton, he took up your whole vision. His muscular arms caging you in, head hung along your shoulder, and feeling his cock dragging in and out of you. Both stretching you out as well as hitting impossible areas of you.

He felt your grip tighten along his fingers.

Speeding his thrusts up, your eyes shot open before you leaned up to kiss him more. Gentle, chaste kissing grow into deep tonguing as he felt you tighten around him. Hips spurring in and out, Anton came inside the condom with a deep sigh.

His eyes shut tightly as his body threatens to fall into the bed, doing his best not to collapse onto his girlfriend.

Pulling out, he rolled the condom off, falling onto the open side of their bed as he ties it off, dropping it onto the floor. Yiu both laid there catching their breath before you turned to him.

"When is there another company event, I'm starting to like this."

Anton chuckled, "We don't need a company party to have this kind of sex."

Your eyes light up with realization, "You're right! I just need more perfume."

Anton blushed, feeling his words lose him.

"No- you- ah." He gave up on wording this thoughts, nothing's gonna change your mind.

"No, it's great! I need more recs," your eyes turned to him, "I should take you perfume shopping with me."

[mingi-s-dimples]

Christmas Eve - Mingi

First of all.. Merry Christmas, everyone! I know I am *a bit* late to the party 😭 but school has been stressing me out so much... and I haven't had time to write nor the proper motivation to, so I decided to delay my fics a bit in order to regain some of my motivation, since I want to give my utmost best when writing ^^. Happy holidays, and this is a great opportunity to thank everyone for all the support I've been receiving since I started writing! This place is my comfort, I love writing so much.. I love you 🤍

---

pairing: bf!Mingi x gf fem!reader

genre: absolute fluff

summary: your boyfriend organised a surprise for you right in Christmas Eve.. which leaves you growing fonder of him ^^

wc: 1.3k (what a contrast between this and the ot8 one lmao)

warnings: literally no warnings, it's pure fluff ^^

Author's Note: I love writing thid tbh.. it felt like a fresh breath of air. I am all about Christmas, so y'all about to find out it took me 10 mins to write the first draft 🧍‍♀️ and 10 mins to rethink parts and finish. (pspspsps, special nye fic is coming... and it’s steamy 🫣)

The biting chill of the December night followed you home, your breath visible in small white puffs as you stepped out of the cab. Tugging your coat tighter around yourself, you couldn’t help but sigh. Christmas Eve had come at last, but work had been relentless. Most of your day had been spent organizing last-minute projects and ensuring everyone left the office in time for the holidays. The thought of warmth, home, and Mingi waiting for you was the only thing keeping you going.

However, as you approached your apartment door, something peculiar struck you. The hallway was dark—unusually so. The soft glow of Christmas lights, typically draped along the railing, was conspicuously absent. You paused for a moment, frowning as you set your keys in the lock. Had Mingi forgotten to turn them on?

Sliding the door open, you called out, “Mingi?”

No answer. The apartment was eerily quiet.

Shrugging off the odd sensation that prickled at your spine, you stepped inside. The familiar warmth of your shared space instantly melted some of the tension from your shoulders. After locking the door behind you, you shed your coat, scarf, and gloves, hanging them on the rack alongside your work bag. You glanced down at the fluffy slippers waiting patiently for you by the entrance—Mingi’s doing, no doubt. Smiling softly, you slipped them on.

The living room was just a few steps away, and as you made your way toward it, you couldn’t help but note the tantalizing scent of something delicious wafting through the air. Your curiosity piqued, you pushed open the door—and stopped dead in your tracks.

The room was transformed into something straight out of a dream.

A digital fireplace crackled warmly on the TV screen, the flames casting a golden glow across the room. The Christmas tree stood tall and regal in the corner, its ornaments twinkling like stars under the soft light of the fairy lights strung around it. Beneath its branches, a pile of neatly wrapped gifts sat waiting to be opened.

But the centerpiece of the scene was the small table in the center of the room, set up with candles, a bottle of wine, and two plates of what looked like your favorite dishes.

“Mingi?” you called again, your voice soft this time.

From the kitchen emerged your boyfriend, a grin as bright as the Christmas star adorning the tree spreading across his face. He was dressed casually in a cozy sweater that you loved on him, his dark hair slightly tousled as if he’d been hurrying to prepare everything.

“Surprise,” he said, holding his arms out theatrically.

Your heart melted on the spot.

“Mingi, what is all this?” you asked, stepping forward, a hand flying to your chest.

“It’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it? Thought I’d make it special.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know how hard you’ve been working lately.”

Tears stung at your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment. “This is amazing,” you said earnestly, reaching for him. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

He caught your hands in his and kissed your knuckles softly. “You deserve it. Now sit down, let’s eat.”

Mingi guided you to the table, pulling out your chair with a flourish. As you sat, he poured you a glass of wine before serving up the dishes he’d prepared. Everything smelled and looked divine, from the roasted vegetables to the perfectly cooked protein.

“You didn’t burn anything,” you teased gently as you took your first bite.

He snorted, his face scrunching in mock offense. “Wow, no faith in me at all, huh?”

“None whatsoever,” you joked, earning a dramatic gasp from him.

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, laughing and chatting about your day, your plans for the holiday, and reminiscing about past Christmases. The meal was delicious, and the warmth of the digital fireplace added to the cozy atmosphere.

Once the plates were cleared, Mingi brought out a tray of sweets he’d picked up from your favorite bakery. As you nibbled on cookies and sipped your wine, the conversation turned to your shared memories.

“Remember when we bought that tree?” you said, nodding toward the majestic pine in the corner.

Mingi chuckled. “How could I forget? You almost tackled that old lady to get it.”

“I did not!” you protested, laughing.

“You kind of did,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But it was worth it. Look how perfect it is.”

The tree indeed looked perfect, its branches heavy with ornaments you’d collected together over the years.

After a while, Mingi turned on a playlist of faint Christmas carols, the soft melodies filling the room. The two of you moved to the couch, the tree standing sentinel over you as you began to exchange gifts.

“Okay, okay, open mine first!” Mingi said, nearly vibrating with excitement as he handed you a neatly wrapped box.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “All right, all right, calm down!”

Carefully peeling back the wrapping paper, you uncovered a small velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat as you opened it to reveal a stunning white gold necklace with a matching pair of earrings. The necklace sparkled like frost in the morning sun, and the earrings were elegant, perfectly complementing it.

“Oh my God, Mingi!” you exclaimed, your voice rising with excitement. “This is gorgeous! How did you even—”

“I saw it weeks ago and knew it was perfect for you,” he said, grinning so wide it looked like his cheeks might ache. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” you said, throwing your arms around him. “It’s absolutely perfect!”

You leaned back, still holding onto him, and added, “Help me put it on?”

Mingi’s hands were steady as he clasped the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin lightly. When he was done, you turned to show him, and the way his eyes lit up made your heart flip.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth.

“Thank you,” you said softly, before kissing him with all the gratitude and love you could muster.

“My turn, my turn!” Mingi said, bouncing slightly as he sat back.

Laughing, you handed him your gift. He tore into the wrapping paper with childlike glee, letting out an audible gasp when he opened the box inside.

“No way!” he exclaimed, holding up the sleek bracelet he’d been admiring for months. “No freaking way!”

“Way,” you replied, laughing at his reaction.

“You remembered? I can’t believe you got this for me!” His voice was filled with awe as he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, admiring how it fit perfectly.

“Of course I remembered,” you said, grinning. “You’ve been talking about it forever.”

He leaned over and crushed you in a hug, nearly knocking you backward. “This is the best gift ever. Thank you so much!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you said, your cheeks aching from smiling so much.

“I love it!” he said emphatically, leaning back just enough to kiss you.

The two of you spent the next hour unpacking the rest of the gifts—sweets, small trinkets, and other thoughtful items—but nothing could compare to the excitement and joy of those two special gifts.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves snuggled up together on the couch, the soft glow of the tree casting shadows on the walls. Mingi’s arm was draped around your shoulders, and your head rested against his chest.

“This is the best Christmas Eve ever,” you murmured, your voice thick with contentment.

Mingi pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s the best because I get to spend it with you.”

And as the carols played softly in the background and the warmth of the digital fireplace wrapped around you, you couldn’t help but agree.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Nine: Heliotrope for Devotion

Summary: While the Host Club argues about the events at the beach, Kyoya decides to try to teach a lesson.

            “I can’t believe Tamaki said that,” said Haruhi, still fuming as she and (Y/N) went to the basement. The lights had gone out due to the storm, so they needed to flip up the circuit breaker. “What does being a girl have to do with anything?”

            “Even if we got into a bit of trouble, it was the right thing to do,” agreed (Y/N). “We can’t just run away when men act like that. It lets them get away with it again.”

            “Are you sure you’re okay, though, senpai?” said Haruhi. “You hit the water pretty hard.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Yes, I’m fine.”

            Haruhi breathed out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think Tamaki is right, but I would have felt pretty bad if you’d gotten hurt,” she admitted.

            “You wouldn’t have to,” said (Y/N). “It was my decision to fight them like I did. If I hadn’t landed the hits I did, they wouldn’t have thrown me over the cliff.” (Y/N) walked to the circuit breaker and flipped it. The lights flickered back on, and (Y/N) smiled at Haruhi. “And I don’t regret hitting them. It was extremely satisfying.” They grinned wider. “The only thing I regret is not breaking that guy’s arm when I had the chance. I had the right leverage, just a little more force…” They brightened. “Oh, well. It wouldn’t have been the best for my reputation, I suppose.”

            “Senpai…You’re a little scary.” Haruhi sweat-dropped.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Let’s get to dinner.”

            Haruhi nodded, and they walked back up the stairs together.

            “By the way, how did you end up in a sundress?” said (Y/N). “Did Tamaki put that in your room?”

            “My dad,” said Haruhi, deadpanning. “He replaced all my changes of clothes.”

            (Y/N) chuckled. “That sounds like your dad. You can borrow some of my clothes if you don’t feel comfortable.” They had simple loose trousers and some simple collared shirts—put-together enough as a host but relaxed enough to just hang with their friends.

            “I don’t mind dresses,” said Haruhi, shrugging. She glanced at (Y/N) as they walked. “Do you…?”

            “Mind dresses?” (Y/N) waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t mind answering questions.” They shrugged. “I don’t mind dresses. I wear a lot of masc clothing during school, but I occasionally wear some fem clothing when off campus.”

            Haruhi nodded in understanding and pushed open the door of the dining room where the other hosts and Nekozawa were playing some strange game (really, the hosts were playing, and Nekozawa was “terrorizing” Tamaki). Tamaki and Nekozawa were screaming as the lights flickered on, and Haruhi rolled her eyes.

            “The circuit breaker was down,” said Haruhi. “We found it in the basement and flicked it up.”

            “No ghosts,” said (Y/N).

            “…Haruhi, are those clothes yours?” said Hikaru, surprised.

            “Yeah. My dad repacked my bag,” said Haruhi. “Not very practical, but it’s what I had.”

            Good job Haruhi’s dad! thought the twins and Honey (and Tamaki, secretly, but he was still frustrated with Haruhi).

            “Haruhi, you’re so cute!” said Honey.

            “Where’d Nekozawa go?” said (Y/N), looking around. The host of the Host Club had disappeared.

            “He wanted to turn in early,” said Kyoya, not looking up from his notebook. (Y/N) frowned as their heart clenched at his lack of acknowledgement of them. “The electricity was a shock to him.”

            “(Y/N), Haru, we have fancy tuna!” said Honey, gesturing the table.

            They sat down, and Haruhi was about to reach for the fancy tuna, but, childishly, Tamaki grabbed it and stuffed it into his mouth (he wanted Tamaki’s attention but wasn’t willing to speak to her). Everyone deadpanned, and (Y/N)’s eyebrow twitched.

            “There’s…um…crab, too!” said Honey hurriedly.

            “I’ll have that,” said Haruhi, picking it up and cracking it open.

            (Y/N), wisely staying out of the situation, reached out to eat some oyster spaghetti instead of crab.

            “Crab, Tamaki? Here.” Haruhi held out a leg.

            Everyone stared. She was talking to him? Tamaki’s eyes widened, and he took it. He deadpanned.

            “It’s just the shell,” said Haruhi, monotone.

            Payback for the tuna… thought everyone.

            In retaliation, Tamaki reached for some crab, but Haruhi stabbed the table with her knife, blocking his path.

            “Haruhi can be…childish, apparently,” said Kaoru.

            Kyoya hummed slightly in acknowledgement, but as he looked up, his eyes only went to (Y/N) where they ate calmly. They didn’t seem shaken or thinking at all about what they had done in the afternoon, the danger they’d been in.

            “Who do you think you are, the twins?!” said Tamaki, glaring at Haruhi.

            “I thought you weren’t talking to me?” said Haruhi, rolling her eyes.

            A giant irk mark appeared on Tamaki’s forehead “So you have no intention of reconsidering. Fine, then! I’m going to bed!” He walked to the door, and a servant bowed.

            “I will show you to your room. This way,” said the servant.

            Tamaki peered down the dark, spooky corridor. “Um…Kyoya…?” He pouted. “Aren’t you ready for bed?”

            Kyoya sighed and stood. “I’ll turn in early, too.”

            He and Tamaki headed out, and (Y/N)’s eyes remained on the door as it swung closed. They hesitated before standing. “I’m going to head to bed, too.” They smiled. “Goodnight, everyone.”

            “’Night!” said Honey.

            “I’ll see you in the morning,” said Haruhi, nodding.

            (Y/N) headed to the door and stepped out. They turned down the hall and walked in the direction of their and the rest of the hosts’ rooms. They were tired, yes, but they had business to attend to before dinner. Tamaki and Haruhi fighting was disrupting the peace, and they needed to get them to talk things out and explain they were both right and wrong—Haruhi and (Y/N) had gotten into some trouble, but they had done the right thing, and Tamaki had been right to be a bit worried, but he had been wrong to get angry instead of expressing his concern in a healthy manner.

            And so, (Y/N) was going to talk to Kyoya. He knew Tamaki well, (Y/N) knew Haruhi well, and together they could get them to talk. (Sure, Kyoya preferred not to get involved in these things, but (Y/N) knew he would want the Host Club to remain cordial and working well).

            They arrived at his door and knocked. “Kyoya?” The door opened at their simple knock, not completely closed. Awkwardly, (Y/N) stepped in and looked around. “Kyoya?” A gust of wind blew the door closed, (Y/N) jumped. The shutters banged as the winds of the storm picked up, and (Y/N) huffed. They walked over and pulled the window closed properly.

            “(Y/N)?”

            (Y/N) turned, and their face could’ve been painted red. Kyoya stood in the doorway of the bathroom, shirtless with pajama pants hanging loosely around his hips. Quickly, they bowed apologetically. “I’m so sorry, the door was opened, I didn’t realize you were showering—”

            “It’s fine,” said Kyoya, running a hand through his damp hair. Without his glasses on, his dark eyes were more piercing than usual, and as his gaze landed on (Y/N), they found themself rooted in place. “I wanted to speak to you.”

            “You did?” (Y/N) had thought he was frustrated or something since he hadn’t spoken, but if he wanted to talk, that was good, right?

            “Yes. You and Haruhi caused quite some trouble for us,” said Kyoya. He walked towards (Y/N). “Tamaki told me the twins nearly tried to kill those boys. We had to send flowers worth several thousand dollars to our guests.”

            (Y/N) winced. That was trouble.

            “But there is an easy solution.”

            Kyoya stood in front of (Y/N), and as they took a step back—oh my god, he’s so close, spiraled their thoughts—their legs hit the bed. Kyoya caught them as they teetered back, and he lowered them to the bed. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as he leaned over them, his legs between theirs, one hand at their waist as their shirt rode up to expose skin, and the other above their head. Instinctively, (Y/N)’s hands went to his shoulders, unsure of what was about to happen. This was very forward of Kyoya, and their heart thumped quickly in their chest.

            “You can pay me back with your body,” said Kyoya, his breath ghosting over their ear. “After all…I’m a man. You’re attractive and weaker than me. It would be quite easy for me to take advantage of that.”

            And then all of (Y/N)’s surprise, nervousness, and tiny amount of fear left them. They smiled and laughed. Kyoya’s eyes widened slightly at the reaction, and (Y/N) lifted a hand to his cheek.

            Kyoya’s heart thumped suddenly in his chest at the touch and the softness in their gaze as they looked up at him. Suddenly, although he had intentionally placed himself in such a situation, Kyoya was acutely aware of the feeling of their legs almost wrapped around his hips and his hand on the skin of their waist. He sat back, heart still pounding, and (Y/N) sat up.

            “You were trying to teach me a lesson, weren’t you?” said (Y/N) gently. They chuckled and shook their head. “You certainly do things in a unique way.”

            “You were in danger,” said Kyoya. “You didn’t even think; you immediately put yourself in harm’s way.” His dark gaze pierced (Y/N)’s once more. “Do you understand what it felt—what is was like to see you falling from the cliff? If you had hit a rock, you would be dead. Or if those boys had done something to you—”

            “I know,” said (Y/N), reaching out and touching Kyoya’s arm boldly. “I know I should’ve thought more. Haruhi and I should’ve hit them and run with the girls. But we gave the guests a chance to leave, first. We’d rather be in danger than them.” They smiled gently and squeezed his arm slightly. “And I can’t regret protecting people. Do you understand, Kyoya? I don’t regret it. I understood the danger. I know what men are capable of. But…thank you for worrying.”

            “How did you know?” said Kyoya, looking at them. “How did you know I wasn’t capable of that?” He needed them to understand there was always danger. He didn’t want them to trust the wrong person and get hurt. He didn’t want them hurt.

            “Kyoya, you wouldn’t take advantage of someone,” said (Y/N) simply. “That’s not who you are.” They smiled at him. “I could never fear you.”

            Kyoya stared at them, and that sudden twisting in his heart lit up into a fire. Oh. He had never felt this feeling, but he recognized it immediately. He knew it from the way he watched the moonlight slant across their face—the one that was so handsome. He knew it from the way he enjoyed the softness in their gaze. He knew it from the way he listened so eagerly to their honesty and trust. Kyoya liked (Y/N). He had feelings for them.

            Kyoya smiled slightly and chuckled as the feeling welled up in his heart. “That’s not who I am? I’m sure many would disagree.”

            “You’re strategic, sure,” said (Y/N). “You’re the Shadow King of the Host Club. But you’re not a cruel man. Not in that way. Not ever. I trust you.”

            “What an interesting notion…” said Kyoya softly, gazing at them. His hand raised to cover theirs on his arm. “You have a strange perspective of me.”

            “I’m your friend. I see you for who you are,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Kyoya’s newfound feelings burned more ferociously within his heart as he heard their words. “I…apologize for attempting to frighten you. It was wrong of me.”

            “It was,” said (Y/N). “But I don’t mind. I’m alright.” In fact, it was kind of nice… They had to quickly shake that thought away. They dropped their hand from his arm and stood. “I’ll leave you now. I just wanted to say that Haruhi and Tamaki need to talk.”

            “Tamaki already plans to speak to Haruhi,” said Kyoya.

            “Good,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “Well…goodnight, Kyoya.”

            “Goodnight, (Y/N).” He watched them head to the door and hesitated. “(Y/N).”

            They looked back at him. “Yes, Kyoya?”

            “I’m glad you’re alright. I don’t enjoy seeing you in danger,” said Kyoya. He was quite pleased as (Y/N) smiled wider.

            “I know,” said (Y/N). “Thank you for saving me.”

            Kyoya nodded and watched them leave. As the door swung closed, he spoke softly. “I always will.”

Taglist:

@roo024

@jmclouds

@yappydoo

@ramblingsoftheill

@girgal73

@rockerica

@nosoyyo1213

@ritzes28

@grippledee-galaxy

@rory-cakes

@neenieweenie

@k03ume

@constellationguy

@paastaboi

@introvertathome

@chaseyui

@jexnight

@snowy-violet

[giveheavensomehell]

first encounter .

⤷ christopher sturniolo .

summary — formula one driver .ᐟ chris x fan .ᐟ reader ; the two meet at an after-party after the final race of the year & chris takes her to the bathroom for... 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 things.

warnings — SMUT ; use of pet names (ma, sweetheart, etc) ; oral (fem!receiving) ; kinda semi-public (?) ; no p in v ; 18+.

After the last Formula One race of the year, Abu Dhabi, that you had to spend months saving up for, you found yourself at the year-end after party.

It was invite only, and you, along with a few other girls, were selected to go as McLaren's VIP guests to party with the team — drivers included. Everything felt like a fever dream to you, that it was way too good to be true.

The drinks were pouring and emptying quicker than they probably should've, any sane person would tell you that. About eleven vodka cranberries and an ungodly amount of shots later, you wandered off . . .

With the Christopher Sturniolo.

Chris had you pinned up against the cold, tiled bathroom wall the second you two stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him. His hands tried to be everywhere at once, gripping and grabbing at every bit of flesh he could manage.

Your skintight dress rode up your thighs as he wrapped your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your ass to make sure you didn't fall. He pushed you harder against the wall, the cold making you whine into his mouth. "O-oh, Chris—" the words spilled out before you could stop them.

Chris broke away from the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck, his stubbled jaw lightly scratching you as he made his descent. "Shh, baby. You don't want the guests out there—" he paused, tapping on the bathroom door, then went right back to devouring your throat. "—to know what I'm doing to you in here. Do you?"

"No. M'sorry." you pathetically apologized, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment at how needy you were for this guy. A stranger, really. Despite his fame in Formula One. "Jus'— fuck. Touch me or something." you begged the brunette, feeling his lips curl into a sly smirk against your neck.

A low, satisfied groan left his lungs as he kissed and sucked at your skin, nibbling and biting here and there. He placed you back down on the floor, his lips gliding down with your body, sucking hickeys into the plump flesh of your tits as they threatened to spill over the neckline of your dress.

Chris pushed your spaghetti-strapped dress down to free your tits, his eyes locked on yours as his lips latched onto one of your pebbled nipples. "Oh my— fuck." you whimpered out in a breathy voice, one of your hands going to the back of the brunette's head.

His tongue eagerly swirled around the pebble as he sucked at your tit, his other hand coming up to palm your other one. Chris rolled the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing your brows to knit together and a low, needy moan to roll off your tongue. "You like that, sweetheart?" he teased, licking a stripe up your sternum, through the valley of your breasts.

"Y-yes— yeah." you frantically nodded in response to the brunette's teasing words, squeezing your thighs together for some for of stimulation. "Aww, look at you. Does my girl's pretty pussy need me, hm?" Chris smirked, loving the way his teasing words made you even needier than before.

"Please, Chris. I need you." you begged him again, knowing that your efforts were most likely in vain. He pecked your lips after having licked up between your tits, dropping to his knees in front of you.

"Shit, mama. I can't fuck you in here—" he starts off, grabbing your dress at the hem and lifting it up over your ass and hips. "—but I can eat this pretty girl?" Chris suggests instead, grinning like a little devil when he saw the wet patch on the front of your panties.

"Uhm— yeah. Yeah, fuck, okay. Jus' fuckin' touch me." you begged him for what felt like the millionth time, sighing in relief when he finally slid your ruined panties down your thighs and legs. "'S this all for me, mama? Shiiit—" the brunette's teasing smirk grew, seeing you absolutely soaked and slick for him.

"—I'm boutta make you feel so good, pretty girl." Chris promised you as he reached out, parting your folds with his index and middle finger. "Make you moan like a little slut f'me, yeah?" his words had you dizzy, thoughtlessly nodding along to whatever he said.

"Mhm hm." you hummed in response, hearing a 'tsk' sound coming from the brunette on his knees. "I asked you a question." he states, following up with a sharp, but not painful, slap to your ass. The shock of the slap made your knees buckle and a low whine fell from your lips, a set of half incoherent babbles coming from you right after.

"Mhm— yes. Yeah. Make me moan like a slut. For you." you practically panted, your eyes screwed shut. "Thaaaat's it. Good girl." Chris smirks as he grabs the flesh he'd just slapped, squeezing it in his hands as he brought you closer to his face.

The brunette's tongue darts out, licking up through your slick folds. The feeling made you moan, your hand tightening in his hair. You desperately pulled him closer, trying to fuck his face because his teasing was pissing you off. "Was that so hard?" Chris' thumb came up to your clit, his other hand remaining on your ass. He rubbed your swollen bud in lazy circles, his skilled tongue teasing your dripping hole.

"N-no. Wasn't hard." you mumbled as your hips bucked forward, your head falling back against the wall as his nose nudged your clit. "Impatient, aren't we?" Chris teased you, two of his fingers slowly pushing into your sopping pussy. "'S this what you wanted, ma? My fingers in y'pretty pussy, huh?"

"Yeah. God, yes. Fuck—" you moaned out and nodded to his words, your slick pussy eagerly swallowing the brunette's fingers as he eased them in and out of you. "Fuck, Chris. Faster. Please—" you pleaded, looking down at him. Which, all in all, was a mistake.

You didn't miss the way Chris' smirk grew until it was a full blown grin, his fingers speeding up as they fucked in and out of our sopping pussy. "Yeah? Like this?" he asks as he leans forward, his piercing blue eyes locked on yours, his lips latching onto your clit.

"Yes. Fuck, Chris. Jus' like that." you panted and moaned out loud, not even caring who hears you anymore. "Don't stop. Please— don't stop." the knot in your lower tummy tightened at a rapid rate, Chris slurping and sucking at everything your pretty pussy was giving him.

"You gonna cum, ma? Wanna cum in my mouth, hm?" he groans as you pulled his face closer to your pussy, muffling his yapping mouth between your legs. "Ohmygod, C-chris— o-oh... I'm gon— cum!" you panted out as your eyes screwed shut, head falling back again as you came on his fingers and in his mouth.

Chris' fingers slowed down as he worked you through your orgasm, feeling your pussy squeezing his fingers as you came down from the high. "You did so good, sweetheart. 'M proud of you." he says as he pulled his fingers from your pussy with a wet pop sound, standing to his feet again.

"Be a good girl, yeah? Clean up." he grins as he brings his fingers to your mouth, your lips obediently parting as he eased them inside. It made you gag a little, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "Get used to this, ma. My cock's a whole lot bigger than my fingers."

✎ author's note — i hope this shit EATS, bro😭 like? idk if my writing is even good. deadass😭

ⓘ english is NOT my first language ! my apologies if i've made a spelling / grammatical error . feel free to correct me if i've made a mistake . feedback is always appreciated !

taglist:

@hearts4werka .

reply to my pinned post if anyone else would like to be added as well !! :)

[kayharrisons]

No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her [Bjorn x fem!reader] [2 of?] [18+]

Chapter summary: you eagerly await your boyfriend's arrival back in 12.

A/N: HI GUYS been a minute since I posted for this one ahaha, we're switching to Reader's pov for this one!!! I'll be going back and forth between their POVs, it's very fun for me >:3 MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL!!!

Chapter Warnings: PTSD, mentioned character death, Capital being Weird to minors, general Hunger Games themes

The train isn't late, but it certainly feels like it, as you stand on the platform waiting for your boyfriend to return home, to return to you.

You'd had faith in him this whole time, known he'd come back to you.

The only time you'd had even a little bit of doubt was when Navarro had died.

You'd been damn near catatonic as you watched her die right before your eyes. As you watched Bjorn have to watch his sister die in front of him.

You'd been afraid he was going to join her, for a little bit.

Losing Tyler and Kay last year had made him angry, bitter at the world outside of you and Navarro.

Losing her may just break him entirely.

The platform is mostly empty, people had wanted to stop by, to cheer Bjorn as their first proper winner. But missing work would result in lashings, and so it was you and a handful of peacekeepers.

Bjorn had no family left to greet him. His mother having died in a mining collapse earlier this year, and his father...

He'd been caught stealing supplies from the sickbay, for Bjorn who had been dreadfully sick one year. He'd been hanged for it.

Bjorn had been nine.

You can still remember the sight of Mr Henriksen's body swaying to and fro from the Hanging Tree, before your mother had pulled you away, before he'd been cut down.

It's not a sight you forget.

You shiver at the memory, rubbing your arms as you anxiously bounce on the balls of your feet.

It isn't long before the train arrives, before it squeaks to a halt. The Peacekeepers flank the door, security for the Victor inside.

Bjorn steps off of the train shortly after.

His hair is closely cropped at the sides of his head, his mop of hair trimmed neatly to just above his brows. He's clad in a dark coat with matching pants, Capital's finest wool by the looks of it, warm, cosy. His shoes are polished to perfection, gleaming in the dimming light.

His eyes are hollow, though, when you meet them. Hollow and full of agony, of grief, of longing for-

You crash into one another in an instant, the pair of you collapsing to your knees as sobs overtake you both.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

His home in Victor's Village is barren, to be honest.

Bjorn hadn't had a lot of possessions beyond his clothes and the furniture in his and Navarro's home.

Her things have been left in a guest bedroom, untouched. You imagine it'll be that way for quite some time.

For now, though, you lock the door, you stoke the fire, and you sit beside Bjorn as he stares into the flames.

"Where's she buried?" he asks, voice hoarse, the first words he's spoken to you all day.

You suck in a breath, ducking your head down briefly. You'd been a wreck the day they'd delivered Navarro's coffin back to District 12, incoherent with tears as you tried to picture where Bjorn would want his sister to be laid to rest.

"Top of the hill," you answer quietly, fidgeting with a button on your dress. "She'll always get the sun up there and... it's close to your mom, I thought she'd like that."

Bjorn nods, throat bobbing hard as swallows. "She would." he agrees, gruff, just as quiet as you.

Silence, for a few minutes, save for the crackling of the fire.

"Bjorn-" you begin, ever so gently. He abruptly stands, shrugging off his thick coat.

"Need a drink." he grunts, moving from the living room and to the kitchen, door swinging shut in his wake. Your brow furrows, worry curling at your belly, clawing up your throat.

You don't follow after him. You know when he needs his space, can tell when he needs to be left alone.

So you leave him be, for now.

You'll give him today, let him cope how he needs to. You'll remain here, by his side, even if it's in separate rooms, just in case he turns to you for comfort.

You know him better than anyone. You know it won't be happening today.

He'll shut himself up in one of the many bedrooms of this house, will drink himself to sleep, will sob and scream through his grief and though it pains you, you will leave him be.

Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow you will open the door for him, will be there waiting with open arms.

Tomorrow, you hope, will be kinder to him.

[targaryenluvs]

PERMISSION TO SHOOT?

pairing: photographer!ex!jeon jungkook (non-idol au) x fem!bride!reader

summary: turns out allowing your soon to be husband to book your photographer can go sideways. especially when it ends up being your psycho ex! then again, you never had much willpower.

warnings: bridezilla you, annoyingly smug jungkook, teasing, cursing, obsession, jealousy 😣

wordcount: about 500 idk

a/n: got a surge of motivation with my free time :P

bridezilla, god if you hadn’t heard that word everywhere when it came to weddings. not that you’d be one, of course not!

but as you sat pinching your nose over your wedding plans sheer stupidity over forgetting to book in a photographer or videographer? the word seemed to resonate in your soul.

“if it’s a bit too much on you, i’m sure my assistant could look into it.” your husband kenji piped up from the side. his presence was honestly forgettable sometimes with how still he was. like a statue. but don’t ever think he isn’t listening. you sighed as you turned to him, “on such short notice? it’s only a week away.” marion, your planner got up from her seat with a tight lipped smile, eager to give the pair of you privacy and save her own ass.

he sighed, closing his eyes, “it’s not a problem baby, just go get some rest.” you should’ve asked more questions, but who were you to doubt his ability? it’s not like there’s a lack of photographers.

and out of all the ones in existence he had to book him?

jungkooks smile used to be one of your favourite things, in the morning and night. the wide smile on his face could solve a lot of problems in your opinion. but when it was mixed with the smug expression as he stood by your husband? a shot to the face would be favourable now.

“sweetie, meet jungkook.” he beckoned you towards him as jungkook smiled softly, “hi.” your lips pressed into a tight smile as you shook his hand. “you look absolutely stunning.” the compliments fell from his lips easily since it was true. the dress you wore was not only expensive, but worth it.

your husband grinned in agreement, “she does, doesn’t she? i’ll let you two discuss.” the reception was in full swing now, laughter and smiles galore. how hadn’t you noticed him beforehand?

“what are you doing here?” you hissed as he guided you to a quieter area, his hand on your back as you shrugged it off angrily. “the camera in my hand doesn’t explain it?” you rolled your eyes, “i can see it asshole, but why would you take this job?”

jungkook leaned against the wall, letting out a hefty laugh, “why wouldn’t i be here? hurts yknow? i didn’t get an invitation.” your hands curled into your dress to help refrain from touching him. somehow he looked even younger than before, his skin practically shone in the sun.

“why would you? you’re halfway insane. if you ruin this i swear to god—,” the words wouldn’t come out anymore, not when he stood in front of you, staring down into your eyes. “if what baby?” the dress had to be shrinking with how difficult it was to breathe now.

his hand trailed your jaw, “not much makeup, all natural. i love you like this.” jungkook bent down to whisper into your ear. squeezing your eyes shut, you shook your head as if to wake yourself back up. “shut up it’s not for you.” his fingers found their way to your collarbone, “this dress is cute, but i think you’re much cuter y/n.”

taking a step back your hands wrapped around the balcony. the beach villa overlooked the water, the setting sun glistened. another step forward, he ended up behind you. “did you miss me? tell me you missed me, please.” his large hands found their usual place on your shoulders.

“just tell me and ill go.”

and the thing was, you did miss him. your husband was a nice man, but he never remembers. not once did he ever order the right food, the right size, none of it. and you thought you’d be able to put up with it, but it sucked when he could remember a random woman’s and not your own.

and the nice big home was amazing, but it didn’t mean much when the only voice that echoed through it was your own.

“when he reached out to me, i couldn’t believe it yknow? but i knew it was a sign. you came back to me. and you can still be with me, he doesn’t have to know.”

perhaps now the house would echo twice over.

[bearprofessorr]

a second chance.

sometimes getting stood up is the only way to find what you really needed.

ship: declan o'hara/fem!reader. tags/warnings: drinking, making out, no y/n. word count: 3.8k.

(crossposted on ao3)

---

The night was young, and you had plans. A date. One of the boys that helped out with the Cotswolds Round-up plucked up the courage to ask you out after a few weeks of idle chatter in the breakroom. You dressed up for the occasion - even if it was only for a drink at the one proper pub in the area. It wasn't often you would be asked out; normally you would be making the first move, hoping that it was reciprocated. Not tonight. 

You arrived slightly before you planned to meet him, wanting a drink to steady your nerves as the clock got closer to 8. you finished your first drink - a simple vodka coke - and looked back at the clock, now reading 8:15. Panic rose in your throat, but you kept it down by ordering another drink. Thankfully, there was a TV behind the bar that you could watch to pass the time, distract yourself and try and convince the other patrons of the pub that you were really enthused by... golf. 

The night continued to pass, and the golf blurred as you stared at the screen instead of watching it. The clock hit 8:45 and you had to swallow the pain of being stood up. You looked around the pub, seeing if anyone was looking at you - no one spared you a glance. There were faces you recognised, some from Corinium's other departments, but none that you spoke to at all; Until you looked down the bar, in a dim corner, noticing Corinium's prized jewel; Declan O' Hara, slowly nursing a glass of whiskey with his eyes just as glazed over as yours were, staring at the TV. Rumours had been circulating around the offices of Declan's wife being scouted for work in London after prized director Malhar Verma was spotted at the O'Hara's New Year's party. Although you knew nothing of Maud personally, she had been in some of your favourite films as a kid, and you were sure her return to the acting world would be well-received. However, from the looks of things, Declan wasn't taking the rumours too well, and from where you were sitting, it was unclear to you whether Declan was even sporting his wedding band. It wasn't as if you could go over and strike up a conversation, though. You had spoken to Declan in passing, mostly because your team helped Cameron with research and analytics - taking the analysis of audience retention and opinions off of her plate so she can do what she's best at. 

Whether he noticed you looking at him was another uncertainty - but you noticed his head move out of the corner of your eye, and you decided to act very interested in the golf again. When he stood up, you took no real notice, until he walked up next to you, got the bartender's attention and ordered another glass of whiskey. 

"Did Tony send you?" He leant his forearms on the bar, looking you over for anything he deemed suspicious behaviour, "'Cause if he did, tell him to fuck off, will you?"

"What?" You asked, more confused than defensive. 

"You work at Corinium, do you not?" Declan mirrored your expression, eyebrows furrowed as he waited for you to respond.

"Yeah, but I'm no spy - promise." You put your hands up in defence, giving Declan a weak smile and a shrug to try and calm his nerves. The bartender came over with Declan's drink before he could speak, so he quickly thanked him and took a long sip before continuing.

"So you just come to the pub - all dolled up and alone, for fun?" 

"I wasn't supposed to be. I got stood up."

"Oh. Sorry..." He awkwardly patted your shoulder, in some kind of apology - or sympathy. 

"Don't be. It was my mistake to assume he was being genuine."

"Men are cunts, take it from me - don't waste your time on them." His mind immediately darted to Rupert Campbell-Black, and his attempts to court his daughter. A small part of him looked at you, noticing you and Taggie appeared similar in age and he chastised himself for the thought. He went to say your name, but realised very visibly that he couldn't recall it, even though he recognised you. You noticed this and held out your hand, introducing yourself like you were taught to.

"I work with Cameron on research." You smiled, appreciating his gentle grip as Declan took you hand in his to shake it, placing his other hand on top to solidify the gesture. "We've actually been in the same meetings for the last month."

"Ah, that explains why I've seen you around - wait, are you-"

"Brainiac, yeah. Tony called me that once - probably not in the nicest way - and it just... stuck." You rolled your eyes at the memory, sighing, detaching your hands to run your fingers through your hair, "But I would prefer for that to stay at work. Obviously."

"Obviously," He parroted, "Of course." He noticed he hadn't reciprocated the greeting, and hated the fact he assumed people knew who he was, "I'm Declan."

"I know that." Declan winced ever so slightly at your response. You smiled without thinking, for the first time that night, "You're the golden goose of the network; and working with Cameron, I do research for your show. I think if I didn't know who you were through all that I'd be kicked to the street."

"Right." Declan chuckled, looking defeated as the conversation fell into a lull. "If you don't mind me asking," He presented the question, his journalistic instincts kicking in, "Who was it you were supposed to be meeting here?"

"Sebastian." The name rang a bell, with Declan recognising him for around the offices, mostly tailing Cameron wherever she went. Before he could make a comment, you spoke back up, "He... well- he said we would meet here and go for dinner, but that clearly isn't happening. I'd rather not dwell on it, if that's alright." You gave a flat smile, taking a long breath to stop the anxieties from crawling back into your mind. "I should have been realistic, he's... he's him, and I'm-"

"Don't sell yourself short. You're a beautiful woman, and it's a pity for him he hadn't recognised that." Declan cut you off, a stern look on his face. He took a moment to truly look at you then, in a way he hadn't dedicated the time to before - what self-respecting married man would spend his time gazing at the women he worked with? 

As much as you would have wanted to believe him, wrap yourself in his kind words, you simply couldn't. What did it matter if you were beautiful if no one was around to treat you as if you were? Actions and words meant very different things - both needed to be true if you wanted to believe it. This came across clearly on your face as you turned away to stare into your glass, both hands interlocked around it on the bar. 

"Thank you, but that doesn't change anything." You sighed, draining the last of your drink into your mouth, pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "I'm sure you didn't come here to comfort my bruised ego - I'll get out of your way so you can actually enjoy your night."

"And what enjoyment do you think I came here for?"

"I don't know," You shrugged, scanning the room before looking back at the TV, "Maybe you just wanted to watch the golf."

He laughed at that, raising his eyebrows in disbelief, leaning his back against the bar as you stepped away from it, "Really?"

"Look, what else am I supposed to say?" You looked down at his hand around his whiskey glass, noticing he was still wearing his ring, but the words came out of your mouth before you could hold them back, "That you've come here to drown out your troubles? I'm not like you, Declan, I don't pry."

He noticed your eyes dip from his, and a part of him wanted to hear you say his name again, in that perfect accent of yours. It was that same part of him that he kept locked away for fear of turning into the men he criticised. The small glint in his eye at that quickly disappeared, not without you noticing. "Maybe you should. You'd learn a lot about a person that way."

"You look like you're dying to tell me why you're actually here," You stood your ground, relaxing your posture, "so, go ahead."

"I wouldn't say dying to, but if you insist-" Declan teased, shrugging while he gestured with his glass for you to sit back down, but when you didn't, he nodded to acknowledge your lack of action and continued, "I came here to avoid Taggie sitting me down and trying to stop me from falling into 'old habits'." He exaggerated with the curl of his fingers. 

"Old habits like the one in your hand?"

"Bingo."

"Maybe you should listen to your daughter, Declan."

"Maybe you should mind your own business, darling." He mocked, enjoying the anger that immediately rose to your face, only to be concealed - except the lingering red around your ears.

"You're the one who-" You scoffed, noticing the smile playing on Declan's face and taking an audible breath, turning on your heel, "Forget it. Enjoy your habits, just try not to leave when the bar closes - makes you look like you have a problem."

"It's only a problem if I leave alone." Declan called out to you, and he watched as you stopped mid-step and placed your foot down delicately.

You paused, still facing the door, hands tensing as you considered your options. There were two ways this could go, if you stayed - and misread his signals, you go home disappointed. If you're right about the undertone of his words, and you stay, you can forget Sebastian and enjoy some good company - maybe more.  Already having been disappointed by one man tonight, the only way that has the potential to change is if you stay. 

"Is that so?" You turned, your head tilting to emphasise the playful nature of your question. "In my mind that would just be two people fuelling each other's addictions, but if you'd prefer I stay to make sure you get home in one piece-"

"I can take care of myself, you wouldn't need to carry me home." He paused, "If anything, the opposite's more likely."

"I think you underestimate how many people I've drunk under the table who've thought they can hold a light to my drinking prowess." You were bluffing - you'd only competed against one person, who was already pissed and was half-way to the bathroom after the first drink. 

"And you're the one saying I've got a habit? Looks like you've been practicing yourself."

"Only on weekends." You joked, and by the look on his face, it was clear Declan understood you were playing up your tolerance, and made space for you at the bar as you stepped closer.

"Right." He chuckled, "It's not for sport, then?"

"You could say it's more a hobby." You smiled, taking your seat facing Declan, while leaning an arm on the bar. "There's not much else to do out here."

"It's fair to indulge every so often." He gestured with his glass to the bartender for another round, taking the last sips from it, "Less destructive than hunting."

You rolled your eyes, the reminders of your summer job at a range leaving a sour taste in your mouth that was quickly replaced with a drink. "It's a hobby for assholes with delusions of grandeur, as far as my interactions with them have gone."

"So, the whole of Cotchester?" Declan raised an eyebrow, eyes following yours.

"Unfortunately so." 

"I'm certain you've heard everything there is to know, then?"

"Not that isn't already common knowledge."

"You'd be surprised - like how we all 'know' about Cameron and Tony-" The commonplace gossip slipped from Declan's mouth before he could think, but since it was only to another Corinium member, he realised it was safe to speculate. When you cut him off to fill the rest of his sentence, he breathed out a small sigh of relief.

"But his wife's none the wiser, yes I'm aware. I don't have the protections you do to go around telling everyone's business to any ears that'll listen." You shook your head, relaxing it to rest on your hand, propped up on the bar.

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You're Declan O' Hara. Your whole schtick is digging up people's pasts, making a living off of the skeletons in their closets." You accused with a flourish, taking a long sip from your glass.

"Not always."

"But you have, right? Like with Rupert - you didn't say what it was but I know for a fact you had something catastrophic." There was a sparkle in your eye at that, the thrill of the chase, Declan knew that tone - he used it himself when he knew he had someone pinned. Backed into a corner, ready to strike. "You reached for something. I saw. Twice during that interview when you were readying yourself for the question, you reached," You reached across, poking the side of his chest. "Right there, for your blazer pocket."

"I was bluffing - to throw him off, and it worked like a charm." Declan brushed your hand away, lightly closing his hand over yours. Your heart fluttered at the contact, "Now, if I did have something on Rupert, as soon as I made the choice not to say it on air, that information never really existed."

"Because of your daughter?"

The question caused him to pause, the words hanging in the air. 

"What?" He tried to regain his balance, his gut tossing itself to the side. Thankfully, you didn't notice, and kept talking to fill the silence. 

"I overheard people talking about her bursting into the building to track him down during the break - did she know?" You interrupted yourself, "Was that what you were going to expose him for?"

Declan shook his head, trying his best to mask the disdain he felt for Rupert's advances on Taggie, "No, there wasn't anything to expose. Rupert's life has been incredibly public, everything I said was already out there, public knowledge."

"Tony and Cameron public or actually public?"

"Front page of 'The Times' public."

"Hmm." You didn't look fully convinced, but dropped the subject simply because of the look Declan was giving you - stern, final. "You two seem... friendly."

"We are." Declan agreed, adding with a knowing smile, "He's better than people assume he is - once he comes back down to earth." 

You chuckled at that, knowing the stories that filtered through the area of his specific brand of ego. The alcohol had fully seeped into your bloodstream now, if the dull pulse of your heartbeat in the back of your head was anything to go by. The lights seemed to shine a little brighter, haloing Declan in a warm glow. You didn't say anything, didn't feel the need to. You simply stared, observing how in the silence, Declan turned to face ahead of him, leaving you with the side profile of his face. He was tired, that much was evident - the light beginnings of unshaved stubble rising on his cheeks, a similar shade to the bags under his eyes, half-hooded eyes that threatened to close without forceful blinks every so often. It was only once you hand made contact with the side of his face that you realised it had moved to brush against his cheek, a slow, soft movement with the backs of your fingers. Declan moved his eyes before his head, an equally soft look and light glisten of water in them as they noticed the touch. 

Your eyes widened, your hand froze, you took in a short breath and held it tight in your chest. As soon as your hand twitched to move back, his rushed to hold it, trying to form the sentences in his mind to express what had made his heart stutter. All that came out of his mouth, like a plea, was the simple question;

"Can I kiss you?" 

You barely had time to process your head nodding, your instincts answering for you, before his lips met with yours for the first time. The first thing you noticed was how he tasted, of whiskey and cigarettes, combining with the scents of cedarwood - it was addicting to say the least. He pulled back, Declan's hand lingering on your cheek. Your eyes looked into his to try and find any hint of hesitation, of regret, and found none.

It was the light jeering of a table off in the corner that took you both out of the moment, made you duck to hide your blushing face from the other patrons of the bar. 

"Don't listen to them," Declan used the hand on your cheek to guide your face to look back at him, "They're only playing around."

"It's hard not to, not when I can feel them looking at me-" You cut yourself off, draining the rest of your glass. It was almost abrupt, the way you stood, grabbing your bag. Declan put a hand on your arm, trying to slow you down, and you answered his question with your own before he was able to ask it, "Are you coming or not?"

It took a moment for his mind to catch up, but as soon as he met your eyeline again, saw the light reflect in them, he nodded and slid his hand down your arm to lace your fingers together - the bar had his card on file, they would charge what they wanted. Frankly, he couldn't give a shit about how much he had spent, all he wanted was to follow you wherever you decided to go. That was good enough for you, and the pair of you left the bar to light cheers from the same table as before. As soon as you were outside, as soon as Declan knew there were no more eyes on you but his, he pulled you closer, feeling the goosebumps from the chilled air on your skin.

Declan's eyes were focused on your lips, physically restraining himself from devouring you there. You took the initiative in a rare moment of confidence, hovering over his lips before pressing them together, breaking apart for a moment only to return open-mouthed, deepening the kiss; His hands rushed to pull you closer, tangling into your hair and around your waist, fabric bunching under his grip. You pulled away, the chill of the night forcing you out of the moment. Declan chased your lips with his, instead electing to brush their noses together before pressing his forehead to yours. "What's wrong, darling?"

You smiled at that, had to stop yourself from breaking down into a puddle of laughter at how soft the situation had turned, "I- We might freeze to death out here if every ten paces you stop and-" You dodged his lips again, turning your head so they pressed against your cheek, still giggling all the while "-God, if you don't let us actually get to where we're going, I'll never forgive you."

It was almost childlike, how Declan pleaded with you, how his round brown eyes tracked yours, "I'll keep you warm, sweetheart, I swear."

"Declan-"

"No-" He interrupted, running his hands down your arms, interlocking your fingers once he reached your hands.

"As much as I would love to take your word for it, I can't feel my hands right now."

"They're fucking freezing." Declan commented, pressing both of your hands together so he could cup his around them in some attempt to warm them up. 

And at that moment, the bright lights from the unfortunate turn of a car into the driveway of the pub caught you both off guard, and something in your gut felt the need to make significant distance between you and Declan. Luckily so, since as the car pulled up, Declan recognised it and winced, knowing what was going to happen already. Not Taggie, but Rupert stepped out of the family's car first, with his daughter in the passenger's seat. 

"Fuck."

"Declan! Man of the hour, thought I'd find you rotting away here!" Rupert cheerily leant on the bonnet of the car, a shit-eating grin on his face as he crossed his arms. "Look, I'm not one to judge what a man does with his time but-"

"Fuck off Rupert." Declan rolled his eyes, pulling his blazer across himself. You were glad you hadn't been noticed, and tried to just start walking home when Rupert lifted himself off the car and walked with a brisk pace to step in front of you.

"Not so fast, sweetheart." He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, not quite meeting your eye, "I know the last thing you want to do is talk, but I'm not about to stand here and let you walk home by yourself."

He turned around to look back at the car, watching how Taggie had stepped out and was standing face-to-face with her dad, chastising him for staying out so late. Declan looked over for a moment, offered a small wave to you and Rupert and resigned himself to the justified beratement from his daughter - he knew in the bottom of his heart that she was right, but drinking was the easy way out and they both knew that. 

Taggie carted him into the front seat of the passenger's side, and beckoned Rupert over with a stern but tired look on her face. Rupert patted you on the shoulder, leaving you with a small, "Just one second, alright?" before jogging over to Taggie. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but with the vague gestures that Rupert made to you and the glances you caught from Taggie, you assumed they were talking about you. It made you want to dissolve, but that was the risk you took. And, at the end of the day, you were glad of the rest of the night you had, even if it ended prematurely.

Rupert, ever the gentleman, walked you the 30 minutes home, in relative silence. He broke it only to ask your name and if you were alright, both questions that you answered with the least information required. 

After a particularly awkward walk, you got to your door, and as you fumbled with your keys, you paused, took a breath and turned to face Rupert. "Look, I don't want this to become a whole ordeal-"

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul." Rupert smiled, and it looked more genuine than the ones he flashed on Declan's show, "Your secret is safe with me." He reassured, nodding goodnight as you disappeared into your house to sneak into bed, alone.

[bradshawed]

how the grinch stole christmas + my babygirl harvey .ᐟ

warnings — fem!reader, slight angst, harvey being an idiot, he has to work for it at the end and no this doesn’t mean it’s resolved straight away, awful ending, inaccuracies

note — honestly i really hate the way this turned out, it’s not even remotely representative. but if there’s one thing i want anyone to take away from this is to not settle, you deserve more, you deserve the effort and i hope you meet someone who reciprocates the effort you put in! merry christmas x

Harvey mf Specter. He didn’t need a plan to win you over, he already knew you’d say yes. That man is nothing if not confident and self assured.

He strolled into your office the morning of the annual Christmas party told you to be ready by 6 without so much of a warning. You ignored him (a harder task than you’d anticipated), going back to your work.

By 6:30, you were still in your office, with his driver waiting outside your apartment, frantically calling Harvey to let him know that you weren’t there.

The next natural step of course was for Harvey to call Donna, who well.. knew everything. You weren’t best friends for nothing.

She declined Harvey’s call, twice, naturally of course. He needed to learn that women weren’t there to do what he wanted, when he wanted, which is one of the reasons why you weren’t at your apartment getting ready in that dress you knew he loved on you.

On the third ring, she placed the phone down, walking to your office to let you know that Harvey was on the line asking about you before walking back to the phone in time for the end of his rant.

“Are you done?” He didn’t have time to start again before she added “She’s in her office” before hanging up and heading to the party.

Now Harvey was usually a calm and collected man. If things didn’t go his way, which seemed to be the common occurrence lately, he had a knack for making them work out. This however, he felt a little out of his depth (not that he would ever admit that to you or Donna).

“If we leave now, we can still make it in time, fashionably late of course.”

“Is that how you ask all women on a date?”

“Only the pretty ones.” You raised an eyebrow at that, even if you were half tempted to fold.

“Just pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

“Right..” you trailed off.

“You don’t believe me.”

“You haven’t given me much reason to Harvey.”

“I know I should have asked you properly, you deserve that much- you deserve more. But I- I was afraid you’d say no.”

“So you treated me like one of your clients, leaving me without a choice.” You knew him better than he knew himself. Whether that was a good thing or not, was still up for debate.

The night lights reflected the sadness in your eyes, causing the pain in his chest to intensify. “Yes. And you deserve better but I need you. And I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realise that.”

“Harvey Specter apologising.” He missed your laugh, even if it was at his expense. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve. What if I still want you.”

“Do you?”

“If you want to do this right? And that doesn’t mean you get to suddenly decide you need me or order me around. You have to work for it.”

“I will, I do. I want all of you.”

“Good.”

drew’s christmas celly & masterlist x

&& main masterlist !

[achilles-rage]

♡ sweet as pie: part two ♡

summary: recalling the first time rocker saw you.

word count: 1.2k

series masterlist

a/n: this has been over a month in the making, i’m so sorry for the wait!! i wrote the first part, and then got so unmotivated to write anything, but i’m back now!! also this chapter has literally no interactions between them, but i really wanted to write something about rocker’s pov (for the slowburn!!!!) anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: age gap (reader in early 20s, rocker in mid-late 30s), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

Rocker still remembers when he first saw you. You had just come home for the summer, dressed in a hoodie and plaid shorts – which he was sure were pajama shorts, but had since learned that those were in style now, and only served to magnify the clear age difference between you two – and a bright smile on your face as you walked up the driveway and into your house.

He was out doing some yard work when he saw you, but you were too focused on seeing your father again to notice him, and he was glad, because it allowed him to really look at you as you passed by.

He had to stop what he was doing when he saw your pretty face, and your thick thighs peaking out of the fabric of your shorts, and he was absolutely sure at that moment that this was going to be a real problem.

Even though you were wearing a hoodie, he could still see the soft outline of your soft belly and your chest, and he caught himself wondering how good you would look in one of his hoodies.

He watched you as you opened your trunk to grab your bags, biting his lip as you bent over to grab at a handle just out of reach. He wanted to offer to help with your heavy bags, but he held back, not wanting you to see through his polite facade and see every dirty thing he wanted to do to you.

Instead, he stayed put in his driveway. He focused on the way your tits bounced with each step as you walked up to the front door, and he silently wished to be able to see them bare, bouncing with each of his movements as he fucked into your tight cunt.

The thing that made him look over in the first place, though, was your bright smile, and the way your eyes scrunched up in pure delight of being home again.

Yes, you were going to be a big problem for him.

He had already met your father; he had become one of his good friends, and the last thing he needed was for his next-door-neighbour-turned-friend's daughter to come home from college for the summer and make his cock throb in his pants every time she graced his eyesight.

He saw you coming and going for two weeks or so, clearly trying to spend as much time with your friends before you had to go back to school. You were always dressed in your cute little outfits, and always greeting them with a big grin and a hug. He thought about being able to hug you, to feel your tits pressed against his chest and your soft belly against his torso.

He saw your friends too, and while they were pretty, they were nothing compared to you.

You have curves; a soft body that had his brain going fuzzy and his hands clench at his sides, eager to feel your supple flesh. Your soft thighs, and your little belly, and every dip and curve he drinks in greedily when he sees you in your front yard makes you seem like forbidden fruit to him. And, your pretty dresses don’t help either.

You’re always wearing white, and pink, and pale blues, and there’s been more than one occasion where the little bows on your dresses, or in your hair, make you look like a gift waiting to be unwrapped.

If you’re not wearing your short dresses and skirts, which have him imagining how easy it would be to bend you over and lift the hem up to your waist, you’re wearing tight, flare jeans that have him imagining being aboe to hear your desperate whimpering, pleading for him to take them off of you.

You just look so sweet, so naive. And he’s not sure if he wants to protect your sweetness; vowing to shield you from the harshness of the world, or to take your innocent sweetness for himself. He’d fucking ruin you for anyone else.

You had begun to consume so much of his mind, especially after he finally met you, that he had to break up with the woman he had been seeing for a couple months. He hadn’t liked her that much anyway, and you had begun to consume his every thought.

He thought it may be a problem when he began to think of you when he was fucking her; imagining your plush ass and thighs rather than her slim frame as he took her from behind, or closing his eyes and picturing you when she rode his cock, desperate to feel your thick thighs on either side of his lap and your weight bouncing on him.

He knew for certain that it was a problem when he began to imagine you in less sexual ways, instead thinking of curling up on the couch with you after a long day, of holding you safe in his arms all night long while you slept peacefully, of taking you out to fancy dinners. It’s what a beautiful girl like you deserves.

He just couldn’t help it; a pretty little thing like you? He was hooked as soon as he saw that angelic smile and the sheepish way you greeted him when he was hanging out with your father.

This is exactly why watching you from afar at first was ideal. Not only did it make the pit in his stomach feel smaller at the thought of wanting his friend’s daughter, it meant that he wouldn’t get attached to you. If he stayed away, he would never actually learn anything about you, and he could keep a fair distance.

It only took him two weeks for that idea to be overruled; his resolve crumbling from the inside out as the desire to meet you, to speak to you, overcame him. And it was worth it.

You had gotten so flustered at seeing him in your living room; hands fidgeting with each other and your eyes darting around the room in a desperate attempt to not meet his eyes. Before he went to sleep that night, he fisted his leaking cock as he imagined laying you down on his bed and kissing every inch of body.

He wondered if you were a virgin. You’re in college, sure, but the way you reacted to his mere presence had him second guessing if you had ever actually been with a man. He secretly hoped you were, just waiting for him to split you open and have you cumming on his cock, but he tried to push that thought away. He didn’t want to seem like a creep.

He had to figure out a way to see you again, preferably without your father present, and quick, although he knows he shouldn’t.

But, then again, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to get closer to you without crossing the line. He could paint himself as your friendly, helpful neighbour, that would be good enough for him.

All he knows is that he has to speak to you again. Has to have all your attention on him again. He knows he’ll go fucking insane without it, and he’s sure that he’ll be able to keep his impure thoughts out of the way. He has to.

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[talisidekick]

Spouse had their second round of surgery today. We're driving home and just stopping in at a co-op to get some things they're allowed to eat. We pull into the parking lot, and the inner wheel lining for our vehicle is falling off so it kind of makes this horrid noise anytime the vehicles wheel turns.

This delightfully curious and old man approaches my driver side window and has this look of concern on his face. The one where something is going horribly wrong, and you know the person -has- to know something is wrong, but you're not sure they know -what- is wrong. So I roll down the window and say hi and he goes. "So your wheel is ... um ..." and just looks down at it and and pauses, not sure how to describe the utter evisceration the wheel has done to this kind of important guard between the road and the front electronics.

And I'm sorry, but this guy looks like he's in his 60's and every alter in my brain is screaming 'make this old man not feel terrible, say -anything- to make this man feel less worried', so what do I say with a laugh and in a tone best described by '^.^'?

"Oh, I know, I'm just too poor to fix it."

Which did not make it better! Realizing that my idiot mouth blurts out:

"We're just running it into the ground! It's okay!"

Which totally doesn't help AT ALL! This man just apologetically looks at me and goes "I'm sorry to hear that, and I suppose if you take it off, that'll only make things cost more in the long run."

So now I feel WORSE and when we part he says something in Yiddish that I only recognize because I have heard it said by a Jewish friends mom when I was growing up as a teen (it got burned into my head because it was the first -ever- time I heard that language spoken). And I used to know what to say back because that friend taught me, but it's been over a decade since and I just stared trying to remember and just awkwardly said "I forget what to say back, I'm so sorry, I hope you have a good day." And then just peaced like the socially awkward DORK I am. I may be eloquent in my writing, and sometimes very well spoken on my streams, but in my real life I am neither of those things. I'm a socially nervous idiot with a bad case of word vomit. So just in case that Jewish man is on Tumblr or somehow sees this:

Sir, thank you for your concern, and please don't let my situation bring your day down! I promise you I'm still smiling and laughing and having a good day despite it all so don't let my situation weigh on you like it seemed to. I'll make it through, and I'll be taking every opportunity to make the tough situations in my life something to smile about in any way I possibly can. Your reach out was touching! It was incredibly nice of you. It's kind of made my last two weeks a bit better given I lost my job, lost my medical coverage, have missed 3 loans payments that the government is getting real angry about, and the bottom of my only vehicle I can't afford to replace is falling off. I know that all sounds bad, but you were a delightful change of pace from it all. I hope you have great things coming your way. ♥