#to notice the good things he's done you need to squint because he will do his best to present them as bad things

[zeroducks-2]

Bart and Thad: you and Barry Allen are out grandpas.

Eo who’s immediate thought is he and Barry had a child: of course we are.

Man would find a way to make a child with Flash as some sort of revenge or show that he’s the superior speedster.

See I consider Eobard as part of the "flashfamily" whether everyone likes it or not lmao.

He's been there forever. He's brought Barry back even when no one could/was willing to. He helped Wally's kids mainline their connection with the Speed Force just because he was passing through and realized the kids needed it. He raised Barry's twins (Don and Dawn) in a now unfortunately erased timeline, after saving both their lives, and they had taken to call him Uncle Eobard. He protected Barry's granddaughter (Jenni) and her father by chasing them away from mortal danger.

I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out at some point that he and Barry ACTUALLY had a kid in some timeline lmao

(idk if it would be to demonstrate that he's the superior speedster. He doesn't seem to care much, he knows he's faster than the others. Which makes sense - the Speed Force is "divided" between a dozen of people, while fortunately for everyone, there is one Negative Speedforce user who is also the Negative Speedforce personified)

[talaok]

Old Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel needs glasses but won't admit it, and there's only an amount of teasing a man can take before he decides to show you just how much of an old man he is.

warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, hair pulling, (joel gets a lil rough)

Ellie was the one to start it all,

I mean it's not like you hadn't noticed, but she was the one that started with the jokes.

Not very honorable of you to blame it all on the 14 year old, you knew... but still, just to get the record straight, you weren’t the one to tease him first.

“Gimmie Granpa” she had chuckled one time, grabbing the piece of paper where Maria had written down the recipe for her 'world-famous' casserole from his hands.

"Hey-" He'd protested,

"You can't see shit, man" she giggled, "Stop trying to fight it- you're getting old buddy"

And well from then on things had... escalated.

You'd yet to see a day where the poor man wasn't made fun of because of it, but truth be told, he really did need glasses.

You'd even suggested it to him more gently, in the comfort of your own room, away from Ellie's prying eyes.

"y'know baby, there's nothing wrong with getting glasses"

He'd looked at you as if you'd just told him to go fuck himself.

"Don't look at me like that" you'd smiled, rounding the bed to intertwine your hands behind his neck "It's for your own good"

"I don't need glasses"

"no?" you'd bit down a grin "you sure?"

"'m sure alright" he grumbled

"I bet Tommy would know where to get you a pair if you asked"

"darlin'"

"yes, baby?" you'd asked, hopeful

"I don't need 'em"

And you really did want to keep on trying to convince him, but then he'd kissed you and well- it must have slipped your mind.

Unluckily for him, not for a very long time.

He was in the bathroom, trying, or more specifically struggling, to open a bandaid for your injured finger.

It wasn't anything serious, just a little cut, but as you'd disinfected it, he'd insisted on covering it up, only of course you hadn't expected it to take so long.

"Baby, what's wrong, you can't find them?"

But the answer to your question was right before you as you entered the bathroom.

As I said, he was struggling.

A laugh bubbled up your throat as you took in his focused expression, the frown on his forehead, the squint in his eyes...

"Let me do it"

"No I can do it I just-" he tried to get it open again, failing miserably.

"Joel-" you smiled, walking up to him "let me" you said softly

And with a sigh, he surrendered, handing you the poor, tortured bandaid

"I could have done that" he grumbled as he watched you do it in a split second.

"Sure you could, old man" You grinned to yourself, carefully applying the bandage to your finger.

"What did you just say?"

A soft, breathless gasp fled your mouth-

He'd moved right behind you, and his hands were now on your waist.

"Jesus babe" you laughed,

"What did you say?"

His voice was rough, and his eyes... something had shifted behind his eyes.

You watched his reflection in the mirror before you as you answered

"I said I'm sure you could"

"Mhh" he hummed, his head lowering until he could dive into your neck and inhale your scent "The other thing"

"what other thing?" you feigned innocence, enthralled by his demeanor, by the almost predatorial look in his eyes

"You know what"

"no I don'-"

But you didn't have time to finish, he'd already grabbed you by your hair, pulling your head back until his mouth was ghosting yours

"you called me an old man, darlin'?"

He was a different man from a minute ago.

This was the Joel Miller people feared, the one that killed without remorse, the one that fucked you rough- the once that a sick and twisted part of you revered.

"Baby I was jokin-"

"didn't look like it" he growled, his clothed hard-on pressing into your ass making you whimper, "you think I'm an old man, babydoll?" he murmured, his grip tightening around your hair "I'll show you how much of an old man I am"

Next thing you knew, your upper body was flushed against the sink's countertop, and your shorts were at your feet, together with your panties.

You watched from the mirror as he freed his cock with the hand that wasn't holding you down, and then you felt it-

"will you look at that" he chuckled darkly, the tip of his dick sliding between your folds with ease "you're makin' a mess for an old man, babydoll"

"J-Joel" you whimpered

"no no darlin'" he cooed "You've brought this on yourself- now you're gonna be good and take it, alright?"

When you didn't respond, he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him through the mirror

"alright?" he bent down, growling in your ear

"y-yes"

"try not to be too loud," he whispered "You wouldn't want people to know how much you like getting fucked by an old man"

You had no time to respond, to tell him how much you didn't care, because he'd already pushed himself fully inside of you, and the only thing you could do was scream.

"you can't help yourself can ya?" he muttered, watching your face contort in all sorts of bliss-induced expressions "The old man gives it to ya too good, 's that it?" he groaned, feeling your walls squeeze around him

"look at me" he ordered, pulling your hair again, making you open your eyes and watch him as he ruthlessly slammed inside of you "Look at the old man who's fuking you, darlin', don't be rude" he grinned

The sound of his skin against yours reverberated through the bathroom, and god it was nasty.

"f-fuck" you tried to speak, tears tarnishing your vision

"I know, I know" he pretended to care, getting up from where he was pressing his torso onto your back, using a hand to get you to remain flush against the sink "I'm going too slow, ain't I?"

Oh shit

Oh fucking shi-

If you thought he was going hard before... you hadn't seen anything.

You couldn't fully create one single thought in your mind as he picked up his pace, as he started literally slamming into you fast and hard enough to break you in half.

"I'm jus' an old man after all babydoll, ain't I?" he breathed, one hand still on your back while the other was still forcing your head up to look at him "You'll understand if I can't fuck you as hard as you'd like" it was like he wasn't hearing how loud you were moaning, how breathless your whines and gasps where each time his dick hit your cervix "what's that?" he mocked "you need it harder darlin'?"

"J-Joel-" you whined, begging, pleading for what you weren't even sure

"shh I got you baby" he cooed, bending down to whisper in your ear again, slowing down his pace just to thrust so fucking deep and hard into you you swore you saw stars "I know my old man's pace ain't enough for you doll"

But it was- Oh it was more than enough.

And yet he didn't care- he was going even harder, even faster, even deeper, and you... you didn't even remember your name anymore.

You could feel the thickness of his cock as it slammed into you over and over and over again, the way it would hit the most hidden spots inside of you, the ones only Joel had only ever been able to find, and then-

And then you could hear his grunts and strangled groans as he fucked you within an inch of your life, as his hair fell to his forehead and tears streamed down your face and your eyes struggled to remain open, struggled to keep on watching him as he fucked you from behind with enough force to break the fucking sink you were on.

Until it got to be too much, until you felt your stomach tighten and the fuse lighting, until he hit that secret spot once again, and all you could do was close your eyes as bliss took over your body, as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

"look at you" he groaned "coming all over an old man's cock" he breathed, your walls squeezing him too good to do anything else but follow suit "letting an old man come deep inside of ya"

It took a long moment for either of you to wake up from the sex-induced haze, but Joel was in much better shape than you, so it was him who came back earlier.

he begrudgingly pulled out, enjoying for a moment too long his own handy work before he helped you up, picking you up bridal style once he realized how useless your legs had become.

"baby" you murmured, before he could place you on the bed "You know I was joking right?" you said, leaning up to kiss him, your mouth catching his in a sweet, gentle kiss that contradicted completely the way he'd just ruined your ability to walk properly

"You're not an old man" you promised

"mh?" he hummed, kissing you again just because he could

"yeah" you smiled, melting into the kiss for what felt like an eternity

He was holding you gently, watching your eyes as they begged to close.

"good" he hummed against your mouth, watching it twist into a devious little smirk as a spark ignited in your eyes

"Although I still think you should at least consider getting glasses-"

"darlin'" he stopped you immediately "I suggest you stop talkin''"

"or what?" you bit down a grin, laughing softly

"Or Tommy's gonna be real mad when you tell him you can't make it to patrol tomorrow 'cause your legs don't work"

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 3)

You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, descriptions of a panic attack, bossman is here yay

“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”

“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”

“Yup, congratulations!”

You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”

Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.

There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.

And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?

“Thanks…” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”

“No problem!”

Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.

You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.

In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.

Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.

For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.

—

You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.

It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.

The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.

Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.

You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.

Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.

In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.

Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.

Could it be…?

The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.

“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.

Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.

Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.

You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!

You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.

You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.

You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.

“Tell me about it.”

The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.

It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.

Blood.

A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.

You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.

You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.

“Sweetheart.”

The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.

You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.

And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.

note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO

nav: one, two, three (current), four, five, six or: read on ao3

check out my other works!

[spookykoolkat]

summer breeze | eddie munson 18+

wrote a drabble cus im just thinking about drugdealer!eddie at a party (ones that hes tired of going to) to sell and make money, but you take him completely off of his game once he notices you.

drugdealer!eddie x plus sized!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only! minors do not interact or get BLOCKED. pwp (sorta), eddie and reader are both in their early twenties (eddie is a year or two older than reader), flirting, p in v (protected pls wrap it up!), fingering, mentions of oral (fem receiving), descriptions of feminine fat bodies, itsyyy bit of body issues (reader isn't insecure just aware of her body), very light choking if you squint, dirty talk (i think hes filthy here), body worship, use of pretty girl, daddy, baby, sweetheart, etc lmk if i missed something.

please do not forget to read and educate yourself on the genocide in gaza! please do your daily clicks and donate to families in need for sudan, congo and palestine + more. https://arab.org/ scroll down on my page for resources and posts about palestine! it will always be free palestine and boycotting the show stranger things as there are three raging zionists on set! no longer taking requests for stranger things or tlou!

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i definitely see eddie munson being the one that's invited to the party to make money, find customers, manage to provide the entire party with weed and other drugs people wanted. maybe he's not the most fun, given he was burnt out after his teen years from doing crazy shit like trying pills and psychedelics to skipping class to drive two towns over, drinking and partying to make up for a life time.

he's not there to necessarily party. he's there to make money, drink, and observe. he doesn't even really miss the partying, or the people. since he was the plug, it was only ever about business. how much can someone get, what can they get, for what price, thanks, have a good night. he didn't get much socialization done in his life right now, so his best bet was to just watch.

he took his place on the couch, somewhere in the clouded area of the living room of whoever's house he's in right now. it was almost deja vu for him.

eddie would be SUCH an observer. quiet, listening and watching to everyone and everything since he was always in the corner unless he was needed. so when his eyes scanned the room after taking a puff of his blunt, it wasn't odd that his eyes latched onto you first.

you were wearing your usual, tube top, fishnet and jean shorts that rode up your ass and hugged the dips of your hips and waist. i think eddie tried to stop looking at you, especially when you saw him staring from your spot where you poured yourself another drink. but even you catching him didn't make him have any shame.

he was checking you out unabashedly. he was staring at the way your tits squeezed against the fabric of the tube top, how your tummy poked out of your shorts because they squeezed into your curves, how the fishnets had holes in some spots on your legs probably from stretching over the width of your thighs.

i think eddie would definitely try to make a move on you, his confidence wasn't lost on him, but he would wait. and while he would wait, he would think about touching you, talking to you, maybe even talking you through it.

he was a freak.

he waited until you finally decided to dance with a few of your friends, getting up from his spot and mixing in between the bodies to get next to you. eddie wasn't a dancer. not in these settings, even he surprised himself.

the obsession was mutual. your hands couldn't stop touching him as you two danced, whispering little things in each other's ears.

"you're really fucking pretty, you know that? like, insanely pretty. i couldn't stop looking at you from across the room." his voice was all you heard even when the music tried to drown it out, he was the only one you could listen to.

"eddie right?" you asked in his ear and your voice was even sweeter than he thought. he just nodded and let his hands fall onto your hips.

"you think i'm pretty?" you asked, your eyes fluttering up at him and biting your lip.

eddie only put his hands on your waist and squeezed, pulling you into him and smiling as you both danced together. putting your hands on his chest as he moved his hands to the lower part of your back and dipping his finger tips into your shorts, he leaned down and whispered in your ear,

"more than pretty. can't even focus on my job when you're right there in front of me just begging for me to come and take you away."

your eyes flutters again, this time with your lips parted and small hitch in your throat.

it was the same expression you had that night, upstairs in the guest room as everyone partied below you when he pushed his fingers inside of your heat.

"oh, ooh baby," he would say as he watched your cunt suck his fingers in, coating him in your juices and making a mess over his hand.

"i-i'm, eddie, oh my god eddie," you groaned, jean shorts discarded and panties moved to the side as he played with your cunt.

his hands ripped the fishnets between your thighs, letting his fingers spread the thick of your cunt and press his finger pads onto the glistening pearl that made you flutter your eyes shut.

it was the same expression you gave when he pushed his length into your sopping heat, and grabbed onto every inch of skin he could. once he entered you after making you cum on his fingers, he got eager.

eddie pulled your top down and let your tits free, becoming even more obsessed you might end up having to put a restraining order on him. it turned out, eddie was a tit man. he played with your tits as he slid in and out of you, squeezing your pebbled nipples and teasing them. sucking on his fingers just to play with your nipples, grabbing your tits and pushing them together to watch them bounce as he fucked you.

he was in love.

you didn't know eddie much, but he took his time with you. even when the party seemed to get even more rowdy, he only fucked into you harder. his hips snapping against your thighs, now calves on his shoulders as he quickly grabbed a pillow and slid it under the small of your back.

"my fucking god, sweetheart, look at you," he said, slipping back into you and adding a stretch that added to your pleasure, "even fuckin' prettier like this, you know that? goddamn, i'm gonna fucking get addicted to this pussy,"

the wind had been knocked out of you, breathless and scrambling for something to say but without missing a beat eddie ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed your ankles, spreading your legs wide beside him to see you open for him.

"i, i, daddy please, i can't, too much, can't breathe," you could feel his cock in your throat, punching into you and making your legs twitch at his lace.

"just like that, pretty girl, hold yourself open like that, be good for daddy." he groaned, sitting on his knees to slide back into your gaping hole as you placed your hands on the back of your thighs.

"there we go, so fuckin' good, so pretty," he whispered to himself, watching as tears ruined your perfect makeup and sweat collected on your forehead and chest. you were ruined, aching and throbbing, still begging for him even when he was giving you what you wanted.

"please, please, so fucking good s' so fucking big," you said, out of breath as he moved to your liking.

he couldn't fuck you like that for long, not when he was watching the weight of your tits bounce and move to the rhythm of his thrusts, not when you begged for him, not when he looked at the way your legs pressed against your stomach that was so soft and round for him—now becoming his favorite part to touch as he lifts himself from his knees and putting his weight into your waist.

he got a good grip like this, you thought, feeling how his hands molded into the skin you bashed for so long just to fuck you deeper and more relentlessly.

it was when someone knocked on the door, asking for eddie, (after your second orgasm) when he decided to flip the two of you over so that his back was now against the random headboard of the bed and your thighs sat on top of his.

you were positioned at his tip, most of him sliding out after your orgasm pushed him out. you couldn't help but feel yourself drip onto his length as you looked at the state of him, hearing the man call for his friend outside of the door, and watching as eddie got lost in your curves and softness.

"fucking hell. goddamnit, look at you," he breathed, hands moving all over you, "this will never leave my mind. i'm telling you right now. gonna be thinking about this for fucking ever, thinking about this pretty fucking body on me,"

he was touching everything, all over you, squeezing parts of you you'd never though you'd let anyone see. kissing the stretch marks and moles and the extra flab of your arms and leaning you back to kiss the width of your tummy.

"sit down on me, baby, please, let me have it, let daddy have it, i've been real good for you, baby," he begged, whined, pressing the side of his face into your tits and gently suckling on the skin.

he was growing tiresome, feeling your hole clench around his weeping, red tip that ached for you. eddie didn't even realize he could throb this hard for anyone, or that he even wanted anyone as bad as he wanted you when he saw you. he didn't even know he could last as long as he did, not with you being right in front of him begging for him to fuck you.

you were beautiful, you had something about you that he couldn't take his eyes off of, something he knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about even if he tried.

"but, they're asking for you," you whimpered, fingers dragging through eddie's hair and fingernails scraping his scalp as he groped your tits and sucked on them. "the party, you have customers,"

he leaves kisses when he speaks again.

"the fuck does that matter, hm? as far as i'm concerned," he said and leaned back, watching the way your cunt looked so he could remember every detail. how juicy your cunt was, how he could palm it and rub your clit at the same time, how well your cunt wrapped around his cock when he gave everything for you to take,

"i got the prettiest, juiciest fucking pussy i've ever had in my fuckin' life right here about to sit on my cock, you think i'm gonna stop trying to make you cum so i can get a 20 dollar bill?" he scoffed, "absolutely fuckin' not. fuck that party. now let me fuck that pretty cunt baby, please, let me feel it again,"

he whimpered when he met your eyes, desperation for a nut especially like this, and you melted. you clenched around his tip and he winced as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. you were gasping at this point, trying to fight for air while you let your cunt take all of him until your clit was pressed against his thatch of hair.

"oh fuck, FUCK, fuck baby," he practically yelled, throwing his head back against the headboard and you couldn't help yourself. his hands were gripping your asscheeks so hard they left hand prints, pulling and spreading them apart just to leave slaps to imagine how your ass would jiggle with it.

it left him moaning even more.

your lips attached to his neck and kissed everywhere you could, licking his pale skin and sucking on his neck and chest. you left hickies where you could. the soberness in you wanted him to remember this, to be looked at so people can know someone fucked him this good and it was you.

the drunk in you just wanted to claim him as yours. let everyone know he was fucking you. and only you. or so you convinced yourself to think.

as you buried your face into his neck and suckled and licked, your cunt clenched around him and slowly you lifted your hips up, just to slam them back down and make lewd noises fill the room. his moaning was turning you on even more, knowing his was sounding fucked out like this because of you.

"eddie, yo what the fuck? i'm tryin' to get some weed man! come on!" the obnoxious voice was drowned out by eddie's moans and whimpers as you decided to speed your bouncing up.

you did it for a hot minute, rolling your hips and bouncing your ass on your knees as you took him in with every lift of your hips. he was so much more filling this way, so much more bigger and reaching places it felt like was your stomach.

"eddie, e-eddie, p-p-please, eddie," you were crying into his neck when you whined and it only made him release a guttural groan as he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body down to his.

"eddie, what, wh-" you tried as he fixed positions, planting his feet and raising his hips before continuously slamming up into your cunt.

"oh, oh, oh my, f-fucking, mmphf, my," you really tried, to make sense of what he was doing until your mind went blank, until you felt the head of his pink cock hitting your cervix over and over again until it began to mix pleasure with pain.

it was delicious, it was everything, and yet the man was still at the door. "eddie, eddie," you moaned, sort of forgetting about everything else but the man ramming into your sore hole, you corrected yourself quickly as he fucked you harder, "daddy!"

"woah, hey, are you, are you fucking in there?? eddie!!! my man!!" the man cheered through the door but to you it was muffled.

you couldn't hear anything but the messiness of your cunt, the squelching, the groaning and crying, the moaning and whimpering, his words making you tighten around him.

"take that fucking dick, baby, take what daddy's giving you, yeah?" he growled in your ear as he kept his pace up, your tears hitting his shoulders and your whines being muffled by his chest.

"i know baby, you're taking me so well, being so good, feel so fucking good,"

"cmon baby, let me have another one, cum again for daddy,"

"next time i'm gonna bury my fucking face between those thighs and let your ride my tongue, just wanna taste my pretty girl the right way," he was breathless, and listening to you cry from his words and beg after every sweet nothing he couldn't hold it anymore.

"get it man!" again. eddie was almost getting pissed off. actually. he was pissed off.

this random man was able to hear the way you sounded just for eddie, the way you called for him and said his name, the way you cried when his cock hit your spot over and over again in this angle.

"get the fuck out of here, fuckface!" eddie screamed angrily away from your ear, only making you clench harder as he then flipped you to lay on your side.

his cock was still inside of you, only now he laid behind you in the same position and lifted your leg by the thickness of your thigh and held it there as he lifted his thigh and slipped further inside of you.

"m' the only one that should hear you like this, not him, nobody else. look at that," he says in your ear as he uses his other hand to point your head downwards to see the way his cock slammed into your cunt over and over again, barely being able to see it over your tummy, "see how she's crying for me? god i wish you could fuckin' see yourself, how fuckin' pretty you are,"

"daddy, daddy, fuck, fuck me, fuck my pussy please, make me feel good," you managed to get out as he moved his hand from your hair to your throat, forcing you to throw your head back against his.

eddie puts his chin right at the top of your head, somehow seemingly bigger than you and crowding you as he kept his pace.

"touch yourself, princess, touch that pretty little clit for daddy, daddy's gonna make you cum all over his big fucking cock, how's that sound, pretty girl? you like that?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

it only grows deeper when he sees your weak hand move to your messy cunt, finding your clit and rubbing firm circles into her. eddie can feel you clench and drip onto him, covering his cock in your cum and juices as you reach your climax for the third time.

you didn't know eddie. he didn't really know you. but in this moment, holding you to his chest as you leaves kisses in your hair and on your cheek sweetly, fucking you roughly and messily, palm still at your throat.

you were crying by now, tears slipping down just for eddie to dry them back up.

"i know, i can feel you baby, can feel you gettin' close for me," he boasts, his own thrusts getting sloppy and missing the rhythm as he struggles to hold his own release back.

"so good, feels so good daddy," you gasped, voice dry and strained, "gonna make, fuck fuck, baby i can't, too much,"

"uh-uh baby, what were you gonna say? gonna make you what? cum? gonna make this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock again?" eddie's balls pulled taut, fighting back his orgasm until you clenched hard one last time and yelled out.

"yes! yes! yes! make me cum, you're making me cum, i'm cumming, daddy please," you shouted, body shaking in his hold as you move your hands to grab at his wrist and try to wriggle out of his grasp, his thrusts becoming too much too fast.

"oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, fuck," he whimpered, wincing and releasing a string of moans and groans as he cums in the condom; desperately wishing he could've painted your walls. you were still shaking in his grasp, whimpering when eddie pulls out of you and moves his hands to fix your hair.

eddie moves you to lay on your back as he sits up on one arm and admires you, the lipstick smeared and eyeshadow messy, eyeliner running and your face makeup staining whatever pillows were there.

eddie wasn't the type to think he was going to call back. thats for sure. he wasn't a dating man, a 'see you more than once in a year' man. eddie was confused for the most part, not knowing where this was gonna go next depending how he went about this last part of the interaction. he especially wasn't a girl. not that girl who asked what we are on the first hook up. not the girl who day dreamed about someone when they weren't near.

he wasn't a girl. he especially wasn't that girl.

you opened your eyes to him staring with a lopsided smile, scanning over your face and chest.

"what?" you smiled, breathlessly and sleep pulling at your eyes.

he shakes his head with a small smile and drowns out the music playing from downstairs, watching you scan his face.

"so, are you gonna call me after this? when can i see you again?"

[theereina]

Where You Going?

Pairing: Toxic Husband!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, Dom!Terry, Toxic!Terry, alluding to spanking *if you squint*, rough sex

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

As my opened suitcase lay on the bed, I only thought of getting as much of my stuff packed before he came home. I had no other priorities besides leaving. It was 7:02, so I had less than 2 hours before he left work.

“Fuck! I can't find my ring,” I said rushing into the bathroom.

I was struggling to search for it in the chaos I had created. The entire house was a mess. I had singlehandedly destroyed every room in less than 4 hours. No room was left unturned, and I didn't care about how the house looked. This would become his problem after I left. Maybe, he would finally pay attention to something other than his job and friends.

I lifted all of the items on the bathroom counter. To my surprise, I still couldn't find it. I remembered taking it off and sitting it on the counter before doing my hair a few days ago. The prongs always found a way to get tangled in the coils of my 4c hair. I chose to take the ring off rather than deal with my hair constantly getting snagged. Since removing my ring was something I always did, I didn't notice that I didn't have it until this morning.

“You know what?! He'll find it. I don't care anymore,” I said, huffing as I leaned against the counter.

I looked into the mirror, taking in my appearance. This was something I hadn't done in weeks. I was frightened by my reflection in the mirror. My hair hadn't been done in weeks. I was still slicking back the same low bun from almost a month ago. There wasn't an eyelash left in my lash extensions. My eyes were sporting dark circles and sunken from exhaustion. My chin and forehead were covered in stress pimples. Had I really let this man's bullshit drain me of the energy to even take care of myself?

“Arghhh… What the fuck is happening to me?” I said, swiping everything thing off the counter onto the floor.

I stumbled backward and braced myself against the outside glass of the shower door. I was falling apart at the seams. There was no way in hell I would spend another moment crying. All I wanted was for my husband to notice me and say something.

I hadn't heard an “I love you” in weeks. We barely slept in the same bed because he was always working overtime. Even simple conversations were non-existent or interrupted by phone calls. I was tired of the same fucked up routine— wake up, work, gym, home, sleep. Terry was no longer even a part of my current life routine, and he, for damn sure, wasn't making me a part of his.

I walked out of the bathroom, feeling dizzy. I knew that meant my anxiety was about to start whooping my ass.

As I walked up to the bed, I pushed a pile of unwanted clothes out of my way. I practically threw myself on the bed. I lay back and began taking deep breaths. I needed to calm down.

After what I thought was a minute or so, I leaned up and stared at my suitcase. I was honestly so exhausted after today.

I looked down at the watch on my wrist. It read 7:34. Realizing I was running out of time, I grabbed the suitcase and zipped it quickly. I wanted to be gone well before he left work so there was no chance of us running into each other.

I stood up, holding the suitcase. I let it fall to the floor and extended the handle. I turned towards the bedroom door. All I had to do now was walk out the front door and leave.

I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. Walking out into the hallway, the house felt eerily quiet. Pulling the suitcase down the hall, I realized how cold it was inside the home. That meant it was even colder outside.

I left my suitcase to sit at the corner of the wall which led to the opening of the living room. I quickly turned on my heels and walked back towards the room. I practically sprinted through the open door. Walking back to the bed, I began to toss the clothes onto the floor in search of a small jacket or sweater. Once I found the top of my black velour tracksuit, I slipped it on and zipped it up.

Back on my mission, I exited the room. It was the same ordeal as before. I went back down the hall, grabbed my suitc—. Where's my suitcase? I stopped to stare at where my suitcase was supposed to be. I turned back to look down the hall. I walked into the living room and began to panic.

“Where you going?” said a male's voice. I knew that voice all too well— Terry.

I spun around to find him sitting in a recliner in the dark. I couldn't see anything but the outline of his frame. Even in this state, his energy was nerve-racking.

“Huh?” I asked, spotting my suitcase on the floor beside him.

“I mean, you walked in here and put your suitcase down like you were about to go somewhere. So, where you going?” he asked, standing from the recliner.

With that statement, I realized Terry had been here the whole time. There was no telling when he had gotten home.

“Baby girl, I asked you a question. Where you going?” he asked, crossing his arms.

From this angle, I still couldn't see him. The small amount of moonlight from the window only illuminated the bottom of his pants and shoes. I felt like I was talking to a shadow which was making this so much harder than it needed to be.

I refused to answer his question. I knew if I talked it would only lead to me stuttering like a fool.

I quickly walked across the living room and snatched the suitcase from the floor. I turned to make a beeline for the door.

“You don't think I noticed your spoiled ass pouting?” Terry asked, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“Well, you didn't act like you did!” I yelled as I turned to face him. Unbeknownst to me, Terry was now right behind me. Not a sound was made to alert me of his movements. I stood there in shock, startled by his presence.

“Why should I? You're a grown a— grown woman. You have no problem using your mouth any other time. Why didn't you this time, huh? You forgot how to communicate, love?” Terry asked, leaning down.

As much as I wanted to curse him out, I couldn't. Every emotion was raging through me all at once.

“Fuck you!” I yelled, fighting back tears of anger.

I was pissed at myself. I had planned out this whole scenario— how I would act and what I would say. It was as if everything went out the window when he was in my face.

“Simmer down, baby girl,” Terry said, kissing my forehead.

“Or, what?” I said, stomping my foot and pushing him away.

Terry stood there, glaring at me. I don't know whether he was pissed or impressed. Hell, he may have been both. I forced myself to hold eye contact, trying my hardest to stand my ground.

Terry stood to his full height and scoffed. He took a single deep breath and let his hand run over his mouth. He was clearly agitated, but I couldn't care less.

I pulled the suitcase closer to me, backing up towards the door. Terry reached out and grabbed the handle of the suitcase.

“Hey!” I yelled.

I reached out to snatch it back, but Terry was quicker. He pushed the suitcase behind his back.

“You want it, then come get it!” he said, walking towards the hallway.

“Fuck it. I don't need it,” I said, turning to walk towards the door.

I open the door halfway before Terry's hand reaches over me to slam it shut, bracing his hand against the door. I tried to pry the door open, but even with one hand, Terry was stronger than me. I yell out in frustration.

“Imma ask you one more time. Where you going?” he asked, looking down at me.

I walked back into the living room, pouting. This was clearly not going the way I planned.

“Leave me the hell alone!” I yelled, turning back to the door where Terry was standing. His body acting a blocker.

“Imma let you know this now if you walk out this door, I'm changing the damn locks. TONIGHT!” Terry shouted, pointing at the door behind him.

“You can't lock me out of my house!” I yelled, getting closer to him.

“Our house, and try me. I can, and I will!” Terry declared, crossing his arms. He widened his stance as he glared at me.

“I can't stand you!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

“Oh, really. That's how you feel, baby girl?” he said, smirking.

“That's what the fuck I said, ain't it?” I rebutted.

“You know what? Fine, here. You wanna leave so bad. Go! Here's your chance. I'm not even gonna stop you!” he said, putting the suitcase in front of me and opening the door.

I placed my hand on the handle. I stood there unsure of what to do. Why the fuck was he just giving up like this? What the fuck was going on?

“All you gotta do is answer my question. Where you going?” he asked, stepping closer to me.

I looked back and forth between him and the floor. I didn't have an answer because I didn't plan on having to explain myself.

“I…. I… I don't know!” I yelled, stomping angrily.

“You don't even have a plan, do you?” Terry scoffed in disbelief.

“No…. So, what?” I asked desperately trying to save face.

“Of course, you don't! Give me the suitcase,” Terry said, rolling his eyes.

“No!” I yelled.

“Give it here! I ain't asking you. I'm telling you. Do you not understand the difference, baby girl?” he asked, holding his hand out.

I contemplated my next move. Truthfully, I was all out of options. I handed Terry the suitcase. He grabs the handle and lifts the suitcase in the air. He unzipped it and dumped all of my clothes on the floor. He slung the empty suitcase across the room.

I look down at the pile of clothes in disbelief. My eyes dart back up to Terry's. This man was insane.

Terry used his foot to slam the door shut. Without turning around, he reached behind him and locked the front door.

“Don't look at me. Go in the room. We need to talk before we go to bed,” he said, flexing his hands. He stood in front of me rolling his shoulders.

“We can talk right here!” I blurted. I knew that if I walked back into our bedroom, I was in for a “treat”.

“Nah, we not doing that kinda talkin'. Let's go!” he barked.

I looked at him, fighting through my thoughts. I stood in place and crossed my arms.

“Ughh!” Terry grunted and picked me up.

“No! Put me down!” I yelled, pushing at Terry's back.

He carried me out of the living room and down the hallway. Walking into the bedroom, he placed me in front of the foot of the bed.

“You got one minute to strip, or I'm ripping it off of you myself!” Terry said, standing in front of me.

“And if I don't?” I mumbled under my breath.

“You keep acting like you really got options here. I'm being polite by letting you think you do. Don't play with me, baby girl. Strip!” Terry said.

“Why do you always do this?” I asked, pouting even harder. I threw my head back in defeat.

“Do what?” Terry asked, licking his lips. His eyebrows knitted together as he waited for an answer.

“This! You always… just… I don't know. This! I can never just leave!” I shouted. I didn't know what to say.

“Take a second to think about what you just said. You do this same thing over and over again. Yet, every time you do I stop you. If I am always able to stop you, did you ever wanna leave? Love, maybe I know my wife better than she does. Maybe, I'm used to your bullshit and tantrums, baby girl,” Terry said through gritted teeth.

“I hate you,” I sulked, feeling stupid. He had me all figured out. This was pissing me off.

“You what?” Terry challenged, getting closer.

“You heard me. I fucking hate you!” I yelled in Terry's face.

“Hahaha, imma make you eat those words. I hope you know that. Tuh! You so funny, baby girl,” Terry laughed, leaning so that his forehead rested on mine. “Now, strip! Don't think I forgot. Since you wanna play games, you got 30 seconds this time,” he lulled as he stood back and crossed his arms.

I begin to strip as slowly as possible. I unzipped my jacket at a turtle’s pace and pulled the arms of my jacket off one at a time. I could see this was pissing Terry off. His face was telling it all as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Without warning, Terry grabbed me and pushed me on the bed. Clothes be damned!

20 minutes later

I had taken my punishment of 15 spankings with pride. Honestly, that was nothing compared to what he was doing right now.

“You gone clean this shit up, right?” Terry said, pounding my pussy in.

I could feel his dick bottoming out and kissing my cervix with ease. I knew he was going to wear my ass out, but I didn't expect this. He hadn't let up since we started. He went from tearing my ass up to stuffing me with dick.

“Yes, Daddy!” I screamed out.

Every inch of his dick was being swallowed by my pussy. He didn't care that I was fighting for my life. He was too busy watching himself slide in and out of me— egotistical green-eyed bastard.

Terry grabbed the back of my legs and pushed them into my chest. My knees were practically hitting the mattress. I was feeling an intense burn in my abdomen and thick thighs from this man folding me in half.

“Baby girl just wanted some dick, huh?” he asked as his hips snapped against my already sore ass.

“Yes, I'm sorry!” I moaned out into the air.

I glance up at Terry to find him smirking at me. Terry's arms wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“Nah… You hate me. Remember?” he asked as a devilish grin spread across his face.

He flattened his body on top of me and let his full weight fall on me, pressing me into the mattress. I didn't know what this position was, but I knew it was about to fuck me up.

As if his dick was magic, this position made me feel like he was deeper than before. How? His dick couldn't grow, could it?

He rested his forehead on mine and looked into my eyes.

“Tell me you hate me, now! Come on! Go ahead! I wanna hear it!” Terry said, leaning in and kissing me softly.

Terry slowed his strokes down, punishing me. Unfortunately, I couldn't speak or think. I didn't know what he expected from me.

“Daddy, I can't!” I mewled through gritted teeth. Hot tears flowed freely down the sides of my face.

“Nah. Stop telling me what you can't do! Tell me you hate me again. I wanna hear it!” Terry said, sliding his hand around the front of my neck.

Terry applied a small amount of pressure to the front of my throat, causing me to whimper from the pressure. I was beginning to squirm under him. I couldn't focus on anything but my half-assed breathing.

“Don’t worry, love. I'm about to make you hate me,” he said, kissing me again.

He grabbed a hold of the back of my neck and pulled me onto his lap. Lifting me slightly, he reached his hand between us to enter me again. I let out a small and desperate whimper. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. (position)

“You givin’ up on me? Baby girl… Look at me. Stay focused on me,” he said, thrusting upward.

Sadly, I was too fucked out to fuck back. It was as if all of the power and energy he had left was being used against me right now. His hands gripped the underside of my ass tightly. Using this as leverage, he would lift me a little and let me drop down into his thrusts.

I promise you from this day forward I will never tell this man I hate him again. The sound coming from our skin slapping together was deafening and thunderous. I couldn't believe the amount of energy this man still had. My pussy was gonna love hate me later.

“Daddy wants your apology to be as loud as your disrespect! Let me hear it!” he shouted, pulling my hair so that my face was pointed at the ceiling.

It was clear to me that this was purely punishment for me and amusement for him.

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” Terry asked, kissing all over my face.

“Yes, Daddy!” I groaned, falling into him.

“Then, I better hear my goddamn apology! Come on! You better not cum before I get it either!” Terry said, licking the side of my neck.

I honestly could have cum from that alone. I moaned out in a whimper. His hands released from my body, but I knew better than to think he was done. He grabbed my waist and flipped me over. Using one hand, he pulled me back onto him and into a kneeling position. His chest now rested against my back.

“Don't move,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my shoulders and neck.

Entering me again with ease, he wrapped one hand around my throat while holding my body taut to his. In this position, I could feel every breath he took.

“Now, what did I say? You can't cum until you apologize, right?” he taunted.

His thrusts became slow and intentional. It was evident that Terry had a point to make, and he was going to drive it home whether I could handle it or not.

As if he could hear my thoughts, his other hand found my clit. He began rubbing and stroking along the underside of it. I felt like I was physically melting.

Before he could say another word, I began to speak. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't… ahh… fuck… I don't hate you. Please!” I screamed into the air.

I was being fucked into submission clearly because instead of letting up, he went harder. His fingers began to rub my clit even faster, his other hand tightened around my throat, and his stroke became more vicious. I was falling and fast. My ears were ringing and listening was becoming impossible.

“Nah… Say… that… shit… louder. Come on!” he said, enunciating with every thrust.

I gasped and drew in a deep breath, causing me to cough.

I could finally feel the beginning signs of his orgasm, which meant relief was near. However, I knew Terry could hold off as long as he needed or wanted to.

“Please, Daddy! I’m sorry. I’ll never… ahh.. I’ll never say it again. Please, just let me cum!” I yelled even louder than the first time.

I was struggling to catch my breath at this point. I was so close. I could feel the muscles of my pussy tightening around Terry’s dick like a boa constrictor, and the pressure building up in my abdomen had reached its peak.

Pulling me back into a kiss, Terry spoke low and directly into my ear. “Cum! Now! You… got… this,” he said in between kisses.

With a potency laced with pleasure, I released the biggest flood I ever had. My legs began to shake, and my body fell forward. Terry instantly tightened his hold on me, forcing me to stay up. I couldn't feel my legs. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, preferably under him.

“Oh, baby. We’re almost done. Let Daddy finish,” Terry rumbled into my ear.

It wasn't like I had a choice anyway. He clearly wasn't stopping. He let go of my body, letting me fall forward with his dick still inside me. Of course, he would finish like this. His favorite position is doggy style. Placing one hand on my upper back, his hips dipped with every thrust. Miraculously, I felt the need to cum again. I wasn't even going to ask for permission with this one. Hell, I couldn't.

“That’s right, baby. Now, tell Daddy what we learned?” Terry demanded.

I pressed my face into the mattress because how in the hell was he expecting me to speak? Pulling my head up by my hair and undoing the last remnants of what was supposed to be a bun, he positioned me on all fours.

“Talk! I need to know that this ain't gone ever happen again. Because in this house, we respect Daddy, right?” he said, slowing his strokes again.

‘Ahhh, fuck… Yes, we… Daddy respect!” I yelled drunkenly.

“Awww, listen to my baby. You so dick dumb, right now. Daddy’s dick fuckin’ you up, huh?” he asked, pounding into me slowly.

All I could do was respond with a low yes and moan, causing Terry to let out a ragged laugh.

“Mmmm… cumming, now!” I yelled.

“Daddy is too. Don’t move!” he said, gripping my hip and pushing me deeper into the mattress.

Terry’s climax crashed with mine. His cum and mine flooded my pussy. The intense combination of fluids forced Terry out of me. I fell forward on the bed, immediately laying flat on my stomach. My body was exhausted and sore. I crashed into recovery mode as my eyes immediately shut. I was practically half-asleep as soon as my body hit the bed.

Terry laughed behind me. “And what did we learn?” Terry asked, stepping backward off the bed.

“Mmm… We don't disrespect, Daddy. I'm sorry. I love you,” I mumbled.

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” Terry said, smacking my ass.

The lesson of today is that I’m not going any-fuckin’-where.😉

Taglist: @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kimuzostar @episodes-ff @megamindsecretlair @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @brattyfics @avoidthings @keyaho @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @onherereading @nayaesworld @phuckyoreblogs @venusincleo @1darknymph @insertcatchynamerighthere @honeytoffee @mitruscity @ladypegusus-blog @lettersofgold @jimmybutlrr @5headsupremacist @blowmymbackout @babybratzmaraj @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @pinkpantheris @talkswithdesi @helloncrocs @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned

[emmyc0z]

Hii! I love your Thanos x reader x namgyu stories!! They’re so good and I love your writing! I was wondering if I could request more of that? Maybe a little smut if you’re comfortable writing it!

(Sorry if that doesn’t make sense, English isn’t my first language ❤️)

thanos ! x reader x namgyu !

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : drug use and sexual activities!

a/n : erm i am NOT a good smut writer but i hope the small amount is enough. i love these two. also i don’t know if anyone has noticed but i cannot make them mean for the life of me. like i love a soft man. oops

you’d all live in a single apartment because it’s cheaper. you were practically all living together anyways (they crashed in your living room more than their own places) so you would decide making one rent payment split three ways made more sense than three separate payments.

the chores would probably fall on you. cooking, cleaning, laundry. it’s easier if they’re out of your way anyways.

i think namgyu would help out by buying groceries or taking over the laundry every couple of weeks.

i like to picture him with glasses, and leaving them everywhere but his face. like he’s constantly misplacing them. and he swears you must be psychic or something because anytime he starts squinting to see, you pull his glasses out of thin air.

he also definitely is incapable of admitting he needs them. and will actively refuse to find them because he “looks stupid with them on”.

thanos is the type of guy that wouldn’t do anything around the house except leave his cigarettes ashes on the living room table.

or throw his shoes on top of the already large pile of sneakers by the door instead of tidying them up.

or add his dirty dishes into an already full sink.

and then he’d say he contributes to house work because he bought take out once last week or because he brought home shit for you guys to smoke.

but he’s also the type that can clean the whole house in a couple of hours, under the condition that’s he’s high. like i imagine him popping one of those pills from his cross and getting the energy to do everything you’d plan to do when you get home.

and if you said anything about it he’d just shrug. like it’s not the most impressive thing he’s done since he moved in.

secretly he’d be on top of the world because of your praise and gratitude. and he can’t help but smile at the satisfied smile that appears on your tired face when you sit beside him on the couch with no responsibility for the night.

they both are the type to conspire around the thermostat. and they’ve somehow convinced you that you don’t know how to use it so you trust them when they say it’s set at a normal temperature.

like in the winter time, they’ll turn it down so low that they have to bundle up under multiple blankets on the couch just so you’ll keep them close.

picture this, you’ve gone to bed and they turn it down at least half an hour after. and you return to the living room, half dressed cause “that’s the only way you can sleep”, and you beg them to come sit in your bed to keep you warm.

and thanos would be the type of guy to get you there and claim that they have a faster way than just ‘sitting in bed’ to keep you warm.

that’s how you’d end up with thanos chest pressed to your back and his cold hands up your shirt, cupping your breast as he nips and kisses at your neck leaving purple marks in his path that are sure to show the next day.

meanwhile namgyu is laying on his stomach with your legs perched up on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh, as he head gets busy between your legs.

and you better believe your inner thighs are covered in bruises. he’s incapable of holding back his bites and kisses with your legs spread wide in front of him.

i cannot see namgyu being anything BUT handsy. like even if you guys were just cuddling this guys hands are on you, in you, all over you it’s crazy.

and you’d say it’s counterintuitive when thanos throws your shirt across the room, and namgyu has pocketed the underwear you were wearing, because how is removing your clothes keeping you warm.

but after at least of an hour of being trapped between them, all three of you are sweating and the room seems way hotter than before.

maybe the fact that they turned the thermostat back to normal before joining you in your bedroom had something to do with it. who knows?

the type of guys to talk to eachother about you like your not there but also the type to say it’s gay to make eye contact with eachother when they get you off.

they’re also jealous creatures. they can’t help it.

if the three of you are having sex and you leave a mark on one of them, like a hickey or god forbid you leave lines from your nails, the other is suddenly whining for your attention. silently begging for you to mark them up in the same way.

and they won’t leave your bed after. they stay put, hands wrapping around you from either side of the bed. namgyu’s fingers are intertwined with yours as his face presses against your neck. and thanos is sprawled out on his stomach, one arm draped over your middle as he faces you, dead asleep.

[noearchives]

one piece boys + first kiss headcanons

pairings: portgas d. ace x gn!reader, trafalgar d. water law x gn!reader, sanji x gn! reader, roronoa zoro x gn! reader

a.n.: a sweet little something. :)

cw: none, a trace amount of suggestive content in sanji's and ace's part if you squint really hard...

portgas d. ace

- happens when both of you are a bit tipsy after a drink or two during a party on the moby dick.

- has kissed a few people here and there (nothing too serious), so he has a bit of experience.

- is good with his tongue, this boy.

- very impatient too.

- that's why after one or two close-mouthed kisses, he’s already slipped his tongue inside your mouth.

- like oh okay! didn't know we were going this fast!

- despite the quick pace, it’s not difficult to pick up. you kiss him like you’ve done it thousands of times before already, and you don't really need to think about what you're doing when you kiss because it just comes to you Naturally.

- it feels like it’s burning, to the point where you suspect ace has unintentionally activated his devil fruit to melt your tongues together.

- is so into it to the point where he didn't even notice when his hat fell off.

- you'd have to pat him on the back twice to make him let go of you because he will Not notice how you're already out of breath.

- leaves you dizzy and breathless. in a way that makes you want more.

- "let's take this to my room, yeah?"

trafalgar d. water law

- you waited for ages for the right timing for him to kiss you first, but it never seemed to come.

- see, the captain of the heart pirates never had the time nor mood for things like this.

- so when you asked if you could kiss him, he panicked a little. just a little.

- he tries to play it cool, but when you’re 1cm away from his lips, it’s like you're holding a gun to his head, frozen in place with his eyes squeezed shut.

- for the first two seconds of the kiss, he’s a little grossed out by the flesh-to-flesh feeling and the thought of the bacteria that’s being exchanged between the both of you is making his head spin a little.

- but as your lips part and connect with his again, he slowly melts into the kiss, copying your movements as you continue.

- it’s not a super passionate kiss or anything, but it leaves his whole body buzzing with his heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

- this feeling is so foreign to him- but somehow, he wants more of it, and he wants to know everything about it.

- "can we do that again?”

sanji

- it happened during one of those moments where it’s late at night and all his emotions bubble up to the back of his throat.

- you were the one who initiated the kiss because he kept rambling, going on and on about how much he loves you and how he doesn't deserve you, how a filthy man like him shouldn't be with a beauty like you, eventually spiralling into self-hate.

- it gets to the point where you had to shut him up with a kiss, to prove that yes, you actually want him, and no, he is not a filthy, unlovable man.

- god, your lips are so soft. he might just start crying.

- he doesn't, of course, so he won’t ruin the moment.

- the kiss is soft and tender, but he soon becomes desperate for more and it escalates into something further, the sentimental moment taking a one hundred-and-eighty degree turn.

- it’s strange, because he was just sulking over himself, and now his hands are all over you, fingers hiking up your shirt as the kiss grows deeper.

- the moment your lips are parted, you give him a light-hearted scold.

- “apologies, my love. you're just a little too irresistible.”

roronoa zoro

- catches you absolutely off guard. surprisingly, he’s the one who kisses you first rather than the other way around.

- it happened so casually- you were hanging out with the strawhats, a drink in your hands as zoro bent down to kiss you as he was passing by.

- he didn't say a word. just a swift kiss that lingers on your lips, leaving your ears and cheeks burning.

- it was bold of him to kiss you out of nowhere- in front of everyone too, telling everyone that you're his, and his only.

- (probably to also piss sanji off while doing so.)

- when you ask the swordsman about it a while later when the two of you are alone, he just answers with a longer, deeper kiss.

- “no more questions,” he mumbles against your lips. “do you want the kiss or not?”

- of course, you reply with your lips on his. actions speak louder than words, afterall.

[sanemisstalker]

Some Douma nsfw about his boobs- because I dumped my boyfriend and then shaved off my brows and idk how to feel about it yet.

Update: not feeling too hot, but you know who is? Douma.

CW/ fem reader with afab genitalia/ Douma is a gaslighter, and a whiny bitch / dub-con (recieving and commiting) / Sadomasochism / Gore (you get Douma so excited he accidentally breaks his own haw.)

- Douma isn't a very... giving lover. It's always take take take with him, but he always disguises it as giving, so it's very hard to notice-

-the problem only occurred to you when you realized just how unwilling he was to let you touch him. It was the fifth time in a row that you'd reached over just to give him a little shoulder rub, and after multiple careful shrugs and evasion, Douma simply turned and smiled.

-'You're not allowed to do that.' His face was all smiles, per usual, but the words were icy.

-'why not?'

-'I don't want you to.'

-'You do things I don't want all the time.' Douma squinted, smile still intact. 'What's wrong with me wanting to make you feel good?'

-'Am I not good enough at making you feel good? Why are you trying to self satisfy?' He'd taunt.

-'You know that's not what I mean.' You'd snap. 'I want to please you... You're always giving me head and fingering me and- you just won't let me do anything back. I don't feel like I'm giving you enough... sexually.'

-'You give me plenty sexually.' Douma assured. It wasn't a lie, but Douma understood perfectly that you didn't quite grasp just what he was getting out of those situations.

-You were an awfully pretty crier, but Douma wasn't going to let you know that. He didn't need you to know that, because you were very stubborn, and probably wouldn't take that as you should-

-Point being, Douma lived and breathed to humiliate you. Even if you were cumming time and time again, Douma was getting off on the disgusted, envious looks of his subjects as they'd been more or less forced to watch you cream on his fingers.

- He only liked to eat you out when he knew he could bite at your clit, and grip the muscles around your upper thigh so hard that you'd be all but paralyzed for the days to come- letting him have his way with you time and time again-

-blatantly speaking, Douma's an exhibitionist, and a voyeur. After all is said and done, and the night has crawled upon you, he's likely jerking off in bed thinking about the events of the day-

-because Douma's sensitive, but you don't need to know all that. You don't need to see how every orgasm shatters him. Or how he just has to put a couple of fingers in his mouth, tugging down on his jaw so he cam fight back the screams that would out him as a complete masochist-

-'Where's this sudden interest in me coming from, hm?' Douma would pry, trying to lead off the conversation, but his hm began to drag on as your hand latched around the rim of his shirt.

-Douma reached down to grab your wrist, but you lunged, shocking him slightly. You burrowed under his shirt. Douma could only look down at you, perplexed and somewhat annoyed- You were stretching his shirt-

-Douma's eyes snapped open as he felt your thumb land on his left nipple.

-'Y/N?' He'd laugh, but without any of the things that made a laugh warm and... goodwilled. 'You're on very thin ic-'

-His words dropped in his throat as you barely began to graze his nipple with the pad of your thumb- barely. The light stimulation, much to Douma's chagrin, rushed right down to his cock-

-You hummed as you felt it twitch through his pants, and up against your stomach.

-Douma would pull up his collar, peering down at you. You'd look up at him with pleading eyes, and all too gentle thumbs. Douma would drop his collar, and let his head lul back, annoyed at your little scene you seemed so desperate to make.

-Douma's heart dropped as he felt something slightly wet graze his nipple, before latching on and delivering the smallest, most hard-on-inducing lick, and then moving back.

-Douma slid a hand over his mouth as covertly as he could. His claws all but pierced his jaw in an attempt the keep it shut. His lashes fluttered as the cold hit his wet nipple, driving it to a hard bud beneath your leering eyes.

-With his reprimands dying down, and his cock rising up, you toyed with Douma's chest rather cruelly. You'd swirl your fingers in a circle around the areola, and then wait before harshly attacking the nipple. You'd feel Douma's body tense up in anticipation each time, awaiting the assault.

-Douma was going to collapse. You'd drive his nerves insane, and then leave them be- His dick ached beneath you, presumably swelling so bad it'd formed a wet patch in his pants that would be humiliating to have cleaned-

-and then he felt a harsh nip. Pain and then relief shot through his body, and Douma's fingers broke through his jaw. Puncturing through the skin and snapping through the bone and the tooth, Douma choked down a moan. The crack was deafening, and your head shot up, but a moment of weakness forced Douma to open his mouth.

-'Don't- Back. Go back.' He'd slur past his own fingers. His other hand would gracefully find your head, nudging you back down, and you'd oblige with glee, wrapping your lips around the bud and delivering the most mind numbing sensation Douma had ever experienced.

-'You're shaking.' You'd say in between breathes. 'Do you feel good?' Douma wanted to take off your head then and there, what a needlessly humiliating question-

-You pinched his nipple between your two fingers, tugging. Douma flinched. His body begged him to play along- to your whims. Anything for more of your abuse.

-'It-It feels fine.' He'd struggle to stabilize his voice... and to keep his orgasm at bay. Your skill was mind numbing- He could feel his climax ebbing-

-When you pulled away entirely.

-Douma looked at you like you'd shot his dog, if he could even care for a dog. You hadn't seen his fingers in his jaw, but you saw the after math, blood running thick down his neck and lips-

-'Guess I'll stop. I'm sorry I wasn't any good.' You went to go sit back down, Douma's eyes wide. It was an unusual expression, almost creepy in a way.

-'Are you serious?' Douma laughed, though this one had more life... more desperation.

-'Yes?'

-it was a beautiful look to finally see Douma pained- longing- in desperate need of relief he just wasn't going to get-

-His eyes darted around in question, back slumping as his dick sat up with the most ease He'd ever experienced...

-You smiled kindly as Douma raised up with shirt. It caught at his collar bone, scrunched up just beneath his neck. He bore his chest to you, nipples pink, puffy, and very irritated.

-Christ, you were gonna cum. You were going to fucking cum- he looked pathetic. The power surge that ripped through your body at the sight of him all but verbally begging was intoxicating.

-Christ.

-'It felt good, continue?' He was trying his damndest to keep even a semblance of control, but that look in your eye told him He'd have you work much harder-

-'It felt really good.' Douma slowly spread his legs, displaying just how hard He'd really gotten- His cock was straining through his pants. 'Keep going- I need to cum.'

-The word you wanted was 'please' but the sight of him struggling not to touch his own chest, fingers fluttering around the rim of his shirt, drove you back to his boobs with no hesitation-

-Douma let out a guttural noise- not a moan or a groan, but more of a wail-

-When Douma finally came- perhaps only a moment after you went back, it was because you'd nearly bitten his nipple clean off. The pain shot right to his dick, and Douma came- in his pants- head back against his array of pillows- jaw tight around his shirt that had slipped between his fanged bite.

-He even felt something a kin to a tear threaten his eye. How impossible.

-You weren't allowed near him for a week. Remember your place, slut 😤😒

[bohnerrific69]

WASTING TIME? ﾉ EKKO

pairing: alternative!ekko x fem!reader

blurb — theme/content: fluff. "angst" if you squint? idk. reader has fomo (fear of missing out) implied. it's ekko from s2 ep7. ꒰ word count: 960 ꒱

"babe?..." you said as appeared on ekko's room door, seeing him sat in front of his desk with a million papers above, his inventor plan of attack as he liked to call. he was resting his face in one of his hands while his elbows were resting on the table and its papers.

"hm? yes miss? whatcha need?" he rubbed his eyes and mumbled without looking at you, from far away you could notice a little smile appearing on his face, making yourself smile too knowing that his one it was because of your presence. it was like this since your relationship started, being on the same tune, contagious.

"you done? i mean... doesn't look very done to me, but..." you replied while getting steps closer to his desk, contouring his body just to being up behind him, leaning down to put support your hands on his shoulders. "just checkin' you up.”

"ah, i think i am really on the final steps to conclude this... am only securing it all goes fine," ekko muttered concentrated doing some more scribbles, at the same time using his left hand to catch one of yours from his shoulders, bringing it closer to his face so he could kiss the inner palm of your hand, making you smile. "besides... why the shawty is awakened this hour?”

"aah i- i missed you on the bed, the usual..." you yawned lazily and leaned all your body on his, being with your chin above his head and arms wrapped around his neck. his body heat was radiating and smelling so good as he took a bath some minutes before, making you sniff his hair just to feel the loveable coconut shampoo smell that you buyed for him.

“i am managing my time very well lately and the project is in the dead end, this time it's the only last time i'll be overworking, ‘kay?” he giggled at your sniffing on his hair, at this point it turned out to become common you doing this, it was cute; lifting his head to look at you, endened giving you free access to kiss his forehead, as you should and did.

“i know… i just can't sleep because of that thing,” you pointed out with your chin the blackboard on the wall with various drawings about this new invention. “i don't want to not be here when you finish this…,” you sighed, catching a chair nearby and sitting really close at ekko's side.

your sudden change from a tired expression to a worried and sadden one was not missed by him, who quickly dropped his pencil at the desk and turned his torso to look at you directly with those frowned big eyes so sweet of him. “babe? what is wrong? you- you don't need to worry about that.”

“nah… just some bullshits passing through my mind… i'm tired, only that.” you looked away from his gaze and scratched your forehead, squirming on the chair a little to see if it could make you comfortable to talk about the subject. it wasn't helping, you're not the kind of person who likes to talk about serious things like this. always praying and hoping for better days, trying to ignore the rocks life throws at you, till you reach the limit and suddenly explodes as a tiny thing goes wrong. like this you wouldn’t worry anyone but only yourself.

“hey, i know when something is wrong with you…” but of course he knew, ekko being your best friend who turn out to be your boyfriend, always being a great observant to notice every detail of you, and care about each one of them. that's why it was so easy for you to fall for him. 

“it's that thing we talked about before?” he asked while softly catched your chin with one of his hands to make you lock eyes with him, he looked so worried and still so caringly about you, it made your butterflies on the stomach do flips. “y-yeah… it's making me anxious…”

“hey, you’re not- you don't lose anything not being here when i finish this…,” he fixed his posture on the chair, quickly catching your hand and intertwining your fingers. “i promised you that everything that i create, you will be the first eyes besides mine that will appreciate it when finished. just because it's not your thang to understand inventions, or not being here when i end those things… doesn't mean you're less of a girlfriend or bad person.”

ekko was so damn comprehensible with everyone, and mainly you, that it made you heart aches everytime you had every time you had a moment of low self-esteem and your anxiety spoke louder. but he was always so careful and always knew what to say to calm and reassure you, how can you not love him?

“and not to forget too, you're never gonna not be enough for me, never. you heard me?” you felt that warm and asphyxiating feeling gathering on your throat wanting to cry but holded enough and only sighed tired, giving him an agreeing smile. “i know… i'm sorry for-” 

“don't need to apologize babe, i understand you…” he pulled you to make you sit on his lap, hugging your waist, making you feel safe. “life is stressing me out these days ekko, but… you make it better,” you mumbled on his neck, hugging him back and closing your eyes.

“i love you” he replied, by the proximity you could know and feel that he was smiling. “i love you more” and now you too.

(...)

after spending some minutes staying like this you happened to start sleeping, there, on ekko’s arms and lap while he continued finishing his invention, feeling safe, loved and enough.

a/n: this was writed only for satisfy myself! i love him so much, i'm so enchanted. ngl, write the universe from s2 ep7 it's easy for me😭 he's still the same but i love how there's no conflicts around. this is the actually the third writing piece i post here, i hope you enjoyed and it's not ooc, writed this while almost sleeping + english is not my first language. (i edited this ekko image here.

tagging some mutuals to boost the post! sorry for the bothering. 🤍 @strawb3rrystar @marchsfreakshow @wcnderlnds @decaf-mother @jazzy-reads @mistysconcilium | join my taglist here.

[artdnldsn]

gestalt therapy

college professor!art donaldson x fem reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, swearing, student!reader, age gap, porn w/ a little plot, head (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight degradation (question mark?), one mention of "daddy"

synopsis: you're done with your senior year at college, and all you want is a parting gift.

a/n: my first full fic here wow my first ever smut WOW the only thing that's not a first here is english because it's my second language so be patient pookies. college prof au has been haunting me for days so i needed to get it out. even though i have no fucking idea how colleges work in the us ;) hope you like it! happy reading

The first thing he notices about you is how ridiculously smart you are.

It's not even a stretch or him trying to justify the instant attraction he feels towards you. No, you're genuinely, undeniably brilliant, especially for your age. You've got this way with words, and concepts come to you so easily. You pick up on all his lead-ups to lecture topics, knowing exactly what the main conversation will be about a good five minutes before the rest of the class. You smile smugly, crossing your arms and leaning back, your eyes seeking his because you want him to know that you know.

And honestly, he'd be mad at you for being so smug if you weren't so damn smart.

The way you walk up to him after class to discuss your latest essay, your stance confident and voice sure, as you argue over why you deserved a 100 and not a 98. He's looking at your essay, then at you, then back at his computer screen, squinting just to appear like he's thinking it over, but he knows you're right; of course you are. Your essay is perfect. He was just being a dick about it, nitpicking because he couldn't admit you're basically flawless.

He's getting self-conscious about his teaching. There's nothing he can teach you—you come so prepared for every class that he wonders if you even have a life outside his classroom. Maybe your brain just works like that, but a small, selfish part of him hopes you spend hours prepping for his classes. The thought that you do it for him and not the subject is a nice one, but he shoves it away.

At least that way, it wouldn't be as pathetic for him to spend nights rewriting his lectures, perfecting his presentations to the point where he's sitting in his bed at 3 AM, pondering whether Times New Roman or Arial would make his point come across better.

He's always been a perfectionist, living by the book, striving not for greatness but for the reserved maximum of his natural capabilities. He never really pushed himself. But you—oh, fuck, you. Fuck you. You make him want to lose sleep just to prove to you or himself that he's certainly smarter than some college senior.

He calls you a lot of things in his head. A know-it-all, an "excuse me" because you're always "excuse me"-ing him like he doesn't have a name, a smartass, a bitch—he hates when he's in a mood like this last one because it signals it's time to sleep. You're a lot of things, but you're not stupid.

In fact, he starts wondering if you're a once-in-a-lifetime talent. Because he's rather young for a professor, he hasn't seen as many students as his colleagues, who always crack up anecdotes about past students, someone who graduated 15, 30 years ago, but the older professors still remember them. He wonders if he's going to remember you like that. He's pretty sure he will.

He's never even thought about you as a woman and not just his student. He's just respectful like that. Sure, you were hot, which only added to your confident allure. He's not blind—hell, he'd admit it if he had to—but he's never thought about you like that.

But apparently, you have about him.

You appear at his office doorstep minutes before he's about to clock out for the night. You're looking pristine as always, and with your silhouette illuminated by the office's dim lights, he wonders for a second if you're even human with your endless drive, brilliant mind, and hair that always looks like it's animated because it's impossible for real human hair to flow that perfectly.

"Good evening," he greets you, eyebrows creasing slightly in confusion. You've never visited, your final grades are in, and you're graduating in a week. He's already said his goodbyes to your class, and when he did, you shot him a little smile that he read as everything being good between you. What are you doing here then? "Can I help—"

“Are you impotent?” you cut him off, arms crossed, a challenging look in your eyes.

He actually chokes on air. “E-excuse me?” he mutters under his breath, his expression shocked, his voice strained. God, he’s ridiculed you for years in his head for addressing him like that, and here he is now.

You turn your back to him, lock the door, and make your way to his desk in confident steps. You sit on the edge of his desk, looking at him over your shoulder. "I asked if you're impotent," you shrug, arching your eyebrow.

“No,” he blurts out, his expression still one of pure horror as he doesn’t know where to keep his gaze, his eyes darting between the papers on his desk, and his computer screen, and his hands, anywhere but you. “God, no.”

“Why you never fucked me, then?” you ask, your tone still almost accusatory, but your voice soft. It’s almost like there is a hint of genuine regret in your words, and he doubts his sanity right now, wonders if he’s imagining things. He pinches his thigh under the desk, just to make sure.

“What do you mean, why?” he stutters, his cheeks flushed. “B-because.” Oh, God, it’s really bad. He’s really speechless, his mind unable to conjure up a full sentence. “Because you’re my student, and I respect you, and there are boundaries that shouldn’t be—“

“I’m not your student anymore. Not technically.” Your tone is matter-of-fact, one he’s too familiar with. One you’ve used to tell him about all the typos in his handouts, all the mistakes in his tests, all the times he’s fucked up grading someone’s papers. Only now you’re telling him… Fuck, he really can’t grasp what it is you’re telling him.

“I can’t argue with that, but I really don’t understand the point of this conversation. You’re completely out of—“

“Consider it gestalt therapy,” you shrug nonchalantly. He’s getting mad, really, with you cutting him off like that, like you’re getting back at him for years of having to listen to his lectures without having an opportunity to talk over him. It takes him a second to grasp what you’re implying. He clears his throat.

You sigh, letting your arms drop to your sides, sliding off the desk, walking up to him in these fucking deliberate strides, spinning him in his chair so he faces you, his hands lifted up in the air as if he is surrendering. He doesn’t know to what, exactly.

“Just really have to get this out of my system, Mr. Donaldson,” you sigh almost guilty, your gaze landing on his lap. He's hard, his cock straining the fabric of his trousers. Of course he is, what the fuck?

You cup him, eliciting a soft sigh from his lips, his eyes falling shut. You start stroking him through the fabric, confidently like everything you do. It makes his blood boil. You’re such a bitch. A know-it-all. A smart-ass. And so, so hot that he can’t bring himself not to kinda wish you’re intending to fuck his brains out.

He opens his mouth to say something, maybe a weak protest to give you a final out, but you lean down, pressing your lips to his in a languid, deep kiss, a thorough exploratory one like every single one of your fucking essays has ever been.

You move to his lap, straddling him, the chair creaking under your combined weight. Only when his hands move to your hips does he understand you’re wearing a skirt. God, he hasn’t even noticed that. He lets his hands stay there, caressing your bare thighs as your skirt rides up, and you lean in for another kiss.

There's no raw hunger. If anything, he’s sure he’s incapable of it in this situation, his mind still trying to catch up, trying to relabel you as not forbidden. You’re grinding against his growing erection, tugging at his hair as you deepen the kiss, your curves so unexpectedly perfect against him.

He only realizes you’re working on his belt and zipper when he hears them. Instinctively, he moves his hands to your wrists to stop you, but you just shake them away like you’ve shrugged him off all these years. He gasps into your mouth as you wrap your hand around his freed cock, stroking the length expertly, thoroughly, meticulously, as your lips never leave his. He actually relaxes into the chair, his hands gripping your waist, tugging your top up to reveal more bare skin.

No bra. Of course you didn’t wear any. You’ve come prepared as always.

You chuckle quietly, your lips continuing to move in unison with his, finding a lazy rhythm that drives you both insane. He reads this chuckle as you being amused at him taking any initiative. It makes his blood boil.

He breaks the kiss, one hand squeezing your breast firmly as he leans down, capturing your left nipple between his lips, sucking gently before biting. His other hand lands on your ass with a loud smack, making you gasp. Finally, some reaction.

He starts bucking into your hand, seeking more friction, moving his mouth to your other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, leaving a bite mark on the side, making you wince but moan. That moan—fuck, that beautiful sound. Now he’s angrier at himself than you are at him for not having fucked you sooner.

He understands you were expecting to ride him, like he’s some sexless creature, a toy to use, a dick attached to a fantasy that has nothing to do with the man he is, and it makes him even madder. He’s always admired your insightfulness, your capability to get right to the gist of things through walls of useless shit, but he’s feeling his respect for you slipping as he understands just how wrong you must’ve been about him in your head.

He peels himself off your chest, lips glistening with saliva, smacking your ass again, harder this time, groping both cheeks as he lifts you off his lap to sit you on his desk over the papers he’s grading. He’ll just tell everyone he spilled a drink. No one will miss them.

His lips find yours again in a searing hot kiss. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to hurt you, but he’s not. Of course not. It’s just that something dormant is being woken up in him. You whimper as he cups your mound through your panties, making him chuckle. Well, look who’s laughing now.

"You've seriously dreamt about this?" he whispers against your jaw, his long fingers sliding into your underwear, finding your slickness. Fuck, you're so wet for him, it almost makes him black out. "Wanted me to fuck you on this desk? Or the one in the classroom? Or in the library? Or right in the fucking hall, huh? Why not? Let everyone watch." His tone is almost taunting, his every word accompanied by a painfully slow and teasing circle of his thumb over your swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes," you mutter, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressing against his shoulder, hips bucking helplessly into his hand, seeking friction. It’s not clear if you’re answering his questions or begging him to go faster. It doesn’t matter; his smirk is already in place, his eyes glistening with amusement as he looks down at you, breathing hard through his nose.

"Yes, what?" he chuckles, shrugging, his eyes scanning every reaction on your face. The way your head falls back, your lower lip caught between your teeth, your cheeks flushed. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, what?" he murmurs softly, his hand in your panties slowing down to the point of stopping.

A groan of disappointment escapes your lips as you snap your head back up, eyes darting open. He can see your pupils blown wide even in the dim light, the lamp on his desk illuminating you from behind like a renaissance painting. "Yes, fuck me," you say dryly, like it’s obvious, still seeing him as some pathetic, stupid nobody, but you’re slightly out of breath when you say it, so that’s a win in his book for now.

Just means he’s gotta try harder.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place. He’s standing between your legs, keeping them spread wide for him. He pulls his hand out of your panties to bring it to your face, shoving two fingers into your pretty smartass mouth. Your eyebrows crease, eyes falling shut at the action, a hum leaving your lips, vibrating through his skin, but you still suck on them obediently, tasting yourself on his fingers and coating them in your saliva.

He slips one finger right inside you when it makes its way back down. He starts thrusting it into you at a steady rhythm, his lips finding your neck, nibbling on it, his teeth grazing your delicate skin, tongue sliding over the little marks his teeth leave there, as he curls his finger inside you, thrusting deeper, deeper, almost aggressively.

"God, I really thought you were smart," he mutters under his breath, hot against your skin as he adds another finger and starts stretching you, eliciting a soft moan from you. He leans down, sucking on your tits again, noticing how hard your nipples are now, almost painfully so, matching the way his dick is rock hard, still standing at full attention against his clothed abdomen. "Thought you were different. Hard-working. Proper." He sinks onto his knees in front of you, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes you can’t quite read. "Turns out you’re just a slut."

He tugs your panties down, his tongue finding your cunt, one of his hands moving to throw your leg over his shoulder, keeping it there tightly as the fingers of his other hand re-enter your cunt, starting to finger it at the same urgent pace, his tongue moving feverishly over your clit, making you moan quietly because, yes, there are still people in the building, you have to keep quiet, but a part of him, the one you’ve awoken, wishes the circumstances were different, that he could hear you scream for him.

He’s getting high off the taste of your juices, off the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils, his nose pressed into your pelvis as he fucks you with his fingers in a relentless rhythm, curling his fingers inside you, feeling your walls clench down onto him, searching for that sweet spot that’s going to make your toes curl.

“Tell me,” he rasps out, pulling away from your cunt just for enough time to say what he needs to say, peppering your inner thigh with kisses in the meantime. “Tell me exactly how long you’ve wanted this. And how you wanted me to fuck you. Leave no details out.”

You whimper when he delves back onto your clit, sucking on it, not caring to keep his teeth from grazing your sensitive skin here and there, but it’s a good feeling.

“S-since that lecture. Sophomore year,” you breathe out, you throat tight from holding back so many moans that are begging to be let out. Your mouth falls open in a silent ‘oh’ as he sucks your whole clit in, lapping at it with his tongue inside his wet hot mouth, your hand snapping instinctively onto his head, gripping his hair to pin yourself down to the reality. “You wore that slutty turtleneck, and of course I’ve thought you’re hot, but then you had one wrong date in your presentation, and I got so fucking mad at you. Thought you’re too careless to teach.”

He hums against your cunt, encouraging you to go on, or agreeing with your point, he can’t tell himself anymore. He’s completely gone at this point, drinking your juices like he’s drinking in your words. Amidst all this, he actually appreciates you not calling him stupid. You might’ve, but you didn’t.

“And you were always s-so passive, like I tried arguing with you, reading all that shit instead of going out just to get a rile out of you, and you never fucking bucked. I-I-I—“ you stutter, your mind going into overdrive for a second as he continues abusing your g-spot, his fingers moving at a frantic speed in and out, in and out. He smacks your thigh to get your attention back on the topic. “I just couldn’t fucking believe you. I was being a bitch, I was nagging you, just because. And you didn’t even care.”

He smiles into your cunt, a huff of air leaving his nose. At last, you admit it. He suddenly doesn’t feel bad at all for calling you a bitch in his head. He can feel your walls contracting around his fingers, your breathing irregular, you’re practically panting, your grip in his hair tightening as you guide him closer, rolling your hips against his tongue and fingers, seeking release. You’re close.

He pulls away, earning another cuss and another groan of disappointment off your lips. He smacks your thigh again, hard, the action leaving a red print of his big palm on your skin. “You didn’t answer,” he rasps out, delving back into you. Fucking students, he thinks to himself. Always so smart, thinking they know it all, and always forgetting to answer the second part of the question after they’re done answering the first.

Your mind is so hazy at this point, it takes you an effort to rewind the interaction in your head to understand what he means. “L-like this,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as he grips the one that’s not on his shoulder to stop it from shaking too much, keeping you in place. “I-I didn’t want you to be nice. You’re always so fucking nice, it’s not human, I knew it wasn’t true.”

He’s too set on making you cum to chuckle now, although it is pretty funny. He’s been doubting you’re human, too, but the way you gasp for air, trying desperately to hold back your moans as he feels you coming closer and closer to release, it tells him all that he needs to know. You’re just flesh and bones, not the perfect genius he’s painted you to be in his mind.

“Fuck!” you whimper, giving his hair one last tug before your hand springs up to cover your mouth, biting into your index finger to keep yourself quiet. It takes one slide of his fingers, one roll of his tongue, five seconds, and your muscles go taught as your hips buck off the desk, his pens in the glass standing on the edge of it clattering against each other, the keyboard of his computer flying up for a split second from impact of your ass slamming back down onto the desk. It’s like a mini-earthquake, that’s left your world erupt into white behind your closed eyelids.

He fingers you through it, lapping his tongue over your clit until you wince quietly from it hurting, and he pulls away reluctantly, standing up from the floor to stand in between your legs again. His neck and back hurt like hell from crouching down on the floor for so long, his muscles are not what they used to be, after all, and for a split second he considers actually giving up and letting you ride him, but it would be your win in his book, and he can’t allow that.

He spits on his hand before he leans down to kiss you, his tongue sliding back into your mouth, letting you taste yourself once again, as he brings his hand down to stroke himself, breathing softly out of his nose at the relief of some friction, finally. “You’re such a hypocrite,” he murmurs into your lips, softly, almost lovingly, the same fucking slightly condescending tone he’s always used in his classroom.

You open your mouth to ask what the fuck he means, but he pushes his tongue back into your mouth, all thoughts of a protest evaporating from your mind. You slide closer to the edge of the desk instinctively to accommodate him when he eventually pushes into you. You almost can’t wait.

He gropes your ass to position you like he wants you, his fingers digging into your plump skin maybe a little too hard. You don’t protest. He breathes heavily, like it’s physically paining him to hold back any second longer — it does,—and his brows are furrowed in concentration while he slides his tip over your clit, coating it with your slickness, the same way he frowns when he’s grading papers or goes over tomorrow’s lecture in his head.

He pushes inside in one determined thrust, piercing through you, a quiet grunt escaping his lips, a soft moan escaping yours. Before you have any time to adjust, he starts pounding his hips into yours, one of his arms hooked around your torso to keep you in place as his free hand flies to your chest, squeezing your right tit roughly, pinching your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, making it harden again.

“Careless?” he scoffs, an expression of pure disbelief on his face at the fact you’ve even dared to say that. He grunts again, his hand falling from your breast to your hip, gripping it firmly as he continues pounding into you, your breathing quickening again. He’s rather big, and it hurts a little from you still being sore from your orgasm, but you still moan softly under your nose, your wrists hurting from you leaning on the desk behind your back for so long.

“You call me careless for a typo in a presentation I made six years ago, and it’s not careless for you to come here, asking me if I’m impotent? Fuck you,” he grunts again, a grin pulling on his lips as he throws his head back, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. You’re squeezing his cock so tightly, there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to be asking him or yourself that question again.

He lets go of you, reaching behind your back to pull on your wrists, tugging them further to himself, which makes you fall back on the desk. “Fuck you,” he repeats, his words almost sounding like a moan now as he holds your wrists near your stomach, basically transfixing you. He moves one of his hands up to throw your leg over his shoulder again, another continuing holding your wrists down, as you both groan quietly at the change of the angle, the new one allowing for him to go so deep he’s touching parts of you you didn’t know existed.

“So, you wanted me to be a good teacher and a good dick all at the same time?” he muses, a smirk pulling on his lips again as he looks down onto your dishevelled form, your tits bouncing out of your tugged-down top, you skirt ridden up to your waist, your fucking face, so unbearably beautiful, flushed and your lips swollen from his kisses and from you biting on them so much. He can’t fucking get enough of how silent you are now after running your mouth at him for all these years. “Did you want me to be your boyfriend, too?” he chuckles, shaking his head, his expression faltering as he picks up the rhythm for a good minute, pounding into you so hard all the items on the desk are clattering, and you have to bite on your lips again not to scream from him practically tearing you apart, because you can’t cover your mouth anymore with your wrists held by him.

“Daddy never loved you, right?” He understands he’s probably taunting you too much, his words almost feeling cruel, but he’s too far gone at this point, he’s making a forceful effort to continue looking down at you to imprint the way you look right now into his memory to revisit later, even though his eyes are almost rolling back from just how good your cunt takes him. “That’s why you’ve been pining for my dick for fucking three years? Are you getting what you wanted?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper weakly. Yes to all that, actually, but he doesn’t need to know that. He feels too good, filling you up to the brim, you can almost feel him in your guts, he’s making your toes curl. And he’s finally not acting nice. Just like you wanted him to.

“Good,” he growls, letting go of you for a second before his hands find the undersides of your knees, bringing them close to your chest, changing the angle again as he starts hammering down into you, the room filled with the sound of your shared ragged breaths, the desk creaking under you and the sound of his pelvis slapping against yours. “Fu-uck, you’re taking me so good, none of your schoolwork was ever that good,” he’s lying through his teeth. Not about the sex — you’re taking it like a champ—but about your schoolwork. It was, indeed, that good.

He basically has no power left over what words leave his mouth, he’s completely drunk on you, the taste of your cunt and your mouth still lingering on his tongue. “Are you gonna come again?” he pants out, slowing down, feeling your walls clenching down on him, squeezing him tight.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter, fluttering your eyes open to look at him from under your eyelashes, but you can pretty much only make out his silhouette with how hazy your vision has become with just how good he’s fucking you. “I knew,” you repeat, your throat feeling tight again, your head falling back on the desk as you bring your now free hands to your mouth, covering it to muffle out the scream you know is there, brewing, destined to roll of your lips when he drives you to release again.

“You—“ he starts in disbelief, but he’s getting closer, too, there’s no point in arguing now. He just can’t fucking believe the nerve on you. What do you mean, you knew? Knew he could fuck you like you wanted to? Knew you would be walking out of here with a limp? Such a know-it-all, always thinking she’s two steps ahead everybody else.

He sighs shakily, a broken, needy sound as he brings his hand in between your legs, finding your clit again, his other hand still holding your knees pressed to your chest. He rubs at you in sync with the thrusts of his hips, his pace picking up, up, and up, until he finally lets out a low grunt, stilling, slipping out of you as he watches you bite on your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks as he feels your pussy convulsing under his fingers, another orgasm hitting you, and in a matter of seconds, after a few fast strokes, he comes, too, thick ropes of his seed landing all over your stomach and knees, and some of it lands on your chin.

For a few seconds, he just stands there, catching his breath, watching over you. He opens his desk drawer, pulls out a tissue pack, and wipes himself before doing the same for you. You're still lying there, face hidden in your hands, your outfit a mess. He's already caught you crying and knows you might feel awkward doing it in front of him, so he just makes sure you're clean for when you leave.

He tucks himself back into his trousers, fastens his belt, and walks to the other side of his office. You hear him rustling around while you try to get your breath back and keep your emotions in check. His soft footsteps approach the desk again, and you feel him gently patting your knee. You open your eyes to see him holding out a cup of water—a peace offering or an apology. But you know he doesn't owe you either. He just gave you everything you've wanted for the last three years. And he even brought you fucking water. Because he's disgustingly nice like that.

You nod in gratitude, sit up, and take the plastic cup from his hand, downing it in one gulp. It actually brings some life back to you. You breathe out shakily, fix your top, and tuck your tits back in before sliding off the desk. Your shoes land softly on the floor, your legs still trembling, your knees feeling like they'll give out any moment. You tug your skirt down and sheepishly meet his gaze, unsure where to go from here.

He steps closer and brings his hands up to your face to fix your hair. His eyebrows furrow in concentration again as he smooths it down, making sure you don't look disheveled when you walk out of here.

He sighs, letting his arms drop to his sides, and keeps looking at your face as if making sure you're not just looking okay but are okay too. “I didn’t mean that. The ‘fuck you’. And the ‘slut’ comment. Well, I kinda did,” he shrugs, averting his gaze with a humorless chuckle, “but I didn’t.”

You punch the air out of his lungs as you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. It takes him a second to gather himself, but he hesitantly hugs you back, just letting his hands rest on your lower back as you nuzzle your nose into his chest.

You had to get it out of your system, but now that it's in, you feel like you’ll never get enough. He feels like a beacon, one he's always been for you. The guy you picked a rivalry with your first week of sophomore year just to push yourself harder, to strive for greatness. He wasn’t even aware there was a rivalry to begin with. He's an academic, though, they’re all fucked up in the head, he must understand a part of it, at least.

And he understands. Truly. He just hopes you won’t start crying again, because he doesn’t know how he'd handle that. He pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes, cupping your face in his hands, and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says, his voice low, the small, friendly smile on his lips sincere, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he looks down at you. “You’ll figure it out. I don’t doubt it.”

He had this whole speech prepared for the class about how adult life is going to treat them, the challenges they'll face, how scary it’ll be, but also insanely rewarding. It was long, sentimental, with a few jokes thrown in. Some girls cried, but it was all bullshit. What’s real is this. Him understanding your fears without you having to voice them. Him telling you you’ve got this.

“And until you do, you always know where to find me,” he nods to the side, obviously meaning his office, a lopsided smirk making him look a good decade younger. His gaze finds yours again, and he pulls you into another tight hug, one he initiates this time.

In his mind, he’s already thinking how long it would be appropriate to wait before he can invite you for a coffee.

[citrinae]

of grapevines and godly betting.

sanji x reader

summary; you love to hate sanji. a twisted part in him loves it when you do. so you propose a deal around it, and he’s thrilled to follow through and see where it will take you.

contents; explicit content, sanji acting like himself, cunnilingus, piv, creampie, slight degradation, asphyxiation if you squint, drinking, mythology & religious imagery, afab!reader with mentions of using lipstick, wc: 4.8k, mdni. this fiend wound up longer than it should so consider this a fair warning.

masterlist

i.

Chairs creaking, uncomfortable clutter of plates. Your leg pounds restlessly under the dinner table. Slightly above the surface, you bring the teaspoon to your mouth, let a raspberry slide down your throat in a self-conscious gulp. Robin compliments the food. And while usually this is music to Sanji’s ears, now he just lets the words go through him, drowning a hurried ‘thank you, lovely’ into the wine he sips on too loudly to go unnoticed. His other hand starts searching through his pockets; he really needs a smoke. Robin’s gaze lands in your direction, and her smile—soft and curious—is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Because she knows.

No matter how well you can carry yourself, Robin will always recognise a buried thought when there is one. But she stays silent, unbothered. Your lungs ease off. Then she asks Nami to pass her a napkin, and there’s the hissing of a lighter you can hear from Sanji’s side. Chasing relief, he shots an exhale towards the ceiling. 

This started a couple of days ago, when, one day after dinner, you told Sanji you'd be up to giving him a treat of your own. Under the condition that he contained his nosebleed for two weeks. Breathless he nodded, loosening the knot of his tie because he knew you weren’t going to make it easy for him. Even then, watching your mouth wrap the words in silk, and the light glinting off your eyes like a knife pointed at his throat, cold and sharp and deadly, Sanji was helpless before your charms, a molten mass of clay for you to tear apart and mould anew. 

And so you did. With shorts that were shorter than he remembered and tops revealing a little more skin than you got him used to. In the mornings you would glide down the stairs to the kitchen in your most expensive robe, while some nights you would stain the mouth of your bottle with your reddest lipstick and offer him a sip—which at first he would hesitate to accept, swallowing his breath, but eventually bring to his own lips with shaky hands. And at lunch, you could notice the slight tremble of his bottom lip as you licked your teaspoon maybe longer than necessary. There was no touching there, not that you needed to go through much trouble to spark anything inside him—something Sanji also grew aware of, you’d figure, watching him go to and fro Chopper’s bay with alarming frequency. 

“It’s chronic, right,” you crooned one time as soon as you caught him turning the door handle. “The thing that you have.” He pushed back in, words leaving in incoherent streams when he did. 

“You’re a sick man.”

But you’d lie if you said the gamble wasn’t starting to take its toll on you either. Fun as it was to toy with Sanji’s weakness for all things good-looking, soon enough his cologne felt stronger, the rustle of his shirt as he moved sounded louder, and you had a harder time applying lipstick to your lips without imagining it all smudged around his collar. Luckily to your growing impatience, Sanji is also a persistent man, a resilient man, and held on to your deal to the very end of it. He could go through hell and worse for a chance with you—and he’s done it, much to your surprise, crossed a level without falling victim to any of his own shameful reflexes. 

And now, two weeks after you launched your arrangement, you can’t tell if it’s excitement or reluctance climbing up your throat as you count the buttons lining Sanji’s dress shirt. He’s not wearing a tie today, you realise, maybe for the same reasons you decided not to wear a bra, collarbone cutting out tantalisingly from the shirt and pulsing with each drag he takes on his cigarette. Then your eyes reach to follow the contours of his neck, and stay there. 

Sanji doesn’t have it in him to look at you, but he burns under your stare. It’s all drawn on his face with a soft tinge of pink crossing his face as your lips part and wet each other in the lack of something to press themselves against. Once aware of the power you're having over him, you can feel your mouth hiking a little higher. But it’s impossible not to wonder. 

Why Sanji, of all people? 

Is it because he makes you feel better about yourself? Because he entertains you? Because you wanted some sort of payback for the way he acts around women?

Robin is the first to call off for the evening. She bids you farewell in the sweetest tone you’ve ever heard, thanking for the food once more before turning on her heels. Franky follows suit, and soon enough the rest of the crew, spilling the deck with their voices and footsteps, until you look up and there’s no one else dwelling in the dim light but you and Sanji and the awkward chime of his rings against glass. During this time he’d be already hunched over the sink, taking care of the dishes, rearranging spices. 

“Can I help you with anything else, sweetheart?” he says instead, propping his chin into a palm. He’s had a little—not so much as to embarrass himself but enough to gather a nerve or two. His smile is loose and his eyes seem half-lost in a foreign universe. There is a napkin folded at the foot of his glass; he wouldn’t admit it if asked out loud, but something tells you he’s been periodically using it to check for any red coming from his nose. 

Still unsure whether what you lack right now is simply Sanji or the free entertainment that comes with his presence, you lean into your seat, pointing at the glass lingering empty and unloved by your plate. “Care for a refill?”

Sanji is fast to oblige, just as you expected him to. What you wouldn’t have it coming, however, is the small laugh vibrating in his throat as he stands up, deft fingers reaching for the bottle and pouring you another glass, courtly and deliberate like in the days he played waiter at the Baratie. You can’t help but notice the air becoming heavier as soon as he’s gotten closer to you—all citrus and pepper and nicotine, sending a blissful shiver to the space between your legs. 

He takes the opportunity to fill up his own glass. However he doesn’t return to his seat, opting to drag out the chair next to yours for intimacy’s sake.

“I did some asking around, and this is one of the finest picks around these seas,” he says, elbows flat across the backrest. 

“Oh,” your knee runs a faint touch onto his leg—he flinches; you haven’t touched him in two weeks. “Any special occasion you're celebrating today?”

“Angel,” the glass stops an inch from his mouth. “I hope you’re aware that every minute I get to spend in your proximity is a celebration in itself.”

Laughter follows, short and fragrant. “You’re so full of crap.”

“You think I’m lying?” he says, raising a brow. 

You take a full sip of your wine. “I think you’re too purpley for your own good.” 

“Maybe,” he admits. “And then again I’m a guy who likes to speak his mind.”

“How has it worked for you so far?”

“You tell me.” 

Sanji takes a second to stare down at the cigarette between his fingers, inflamed paper eating itself out, slowly. The corner of his mouth pushes into something close to a smirk and your stomach tightens as soon as it does. Light from the wall lamps spreads gracefully across his back and hair, making him look to you like something unearthly, but quiet, making you think of names of tragedy and myth, resting their cheek deep in the Sun’s lap. 

The truth is, when one’s mouth speaks reverence as often as his does, it gets hard to tell what may be going on inside their head. But there is something about the way he sits now, poised and pliant and shamelessly hopeful, suggesting this is something you shouldn’t really care about.

“Can’t lie, you pretty much intrigue me, Sanii,” you lean towards him, taking in his scent. “That or maybe I’m still around because I wanted a glass.”

There’s something lingering on the tip of his tongue, like sugar melting on a strawberry, catching colour. Yet he makes sure to swallow the thought before letting it out in any form. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.”

The closer you are to him the harder he finds it to breathe. A strand of hair brushing the side of his nose, his eyes take their time to look into yours, and then slowly descend to the place your mouth is. His lips tremble in the absence of something to say to you. He sets the wine back on the table, and it’s mechanical, dulled. 

“Right, right,” your voice fills the room. “And I asked something of you, a couple days ago. Silly me.” 

Heat spreads to his cheeks. 

“Ah,” he says. “You did.”

Your smile feels then like a wretched attempt at innocence. “Can you remind me what it was again, Sanji? My humble request for you.”

He blinks; once, twice, before the question takes full shape inside his head. 

His words are frail, “You asked If I could be good and patient for a while.”

“And you were?” your mouths find themselves at a finger’s length from each other. “Good and patient?”

“Yeah,” he gulps for air. 

The kiss is slow and wet and you can’t help but feel yourself melt into it; in the warmth coming from the soft press of his mouth and the care with which his fingers dig into the skin of your waist, pulling you close, closer, until you’re all climbed into Sanji’s lap. He tastes like wine and cigarettes. 

“I missed you,” his breath is hot against your lips. “Fuck, angel, I missed you.” He then kisses you at the corner of your lips, and across your jaw, making sure he remembers each line and curve composing your anatomy. 

You lean your head back, exposing more skin for him to reach. “Wasn’t that far away to begin with,” you tell him through a chuckle.

When he speaks, too preoccupied to settle himself at the space between your neck and shoulder, it’s with a low vibrato that pauses the world for a couple of beats. “You were. You’re no oil on canvas, dear,” setting a kiss on your neck. “You were made to be revered, not admired,” thumb making idle circles on your shoulder. 

Instinctively your eyes roll heavenwards. You’ve heard this before; and you’re aware there is nothing necessarily distinctive about you—just happened to land aboard this floating circus and accept advances from the most hospitable person you found. Pushing your tongue across your teeth, you find yourself somewhere between enraged and flattered as you reach for the hem of your shirt. 

This time, there's one thing you're sure of. 

You want Sanji wet and silly for your attention. You want to feel furious enough to make him look like that. 

“Good thing tonight’s reward includes more than just that,” you say. 

Your shirt touches the floor; he gasps. 

“Can—” Sanji’s voice breaks at the exhale. “Can I?” He looks up at you gingerly, and his hand is slightly trembling. 

This is not something you’d easily admit, but seeing him like this—hair dishevelled, mouth half-opened, pupils blown out and circled by a thin thread of blue—sends a dizzying shot of serotonin to your head. 

Your fingers push themselves through his hair, assuringly, “Knock yourself out, kitten.”

At first it’s light, with the back of his hand. His rings are cold against your skin as he touches you. Then the grip becomes fuller as he gains the courage, softly rubbing your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and you can’t help the sound leaving you as he does. He looks drunk, with his cheeks taking to a decadent flush and his eyes distracted. You almost envy Sanji for his patience as you feel the bulge in his pants throbbing deliriously under you. 

“So beautiful,” Sanji hums before letting his mouth collapse to your chest. “Just heavenly, and all for me.” A second later he's brushing his mouth against your sternum, thumb pushing into your waist, runs his tongue over a nipple and begins to suck. There’s a vicious tendency to flat your fingers across the back of his head and pull closer, to suffocate, until his cries and whimpers would stir you from inside out. Sanji would take the pain if that meant replacing the air with the sound of your name, and you’d be fast to help him without giving it away that he makes you feel equally feeble. You scrape your nails down his nape, and you’re soon rewarded a wretched sound as you do just that. 

Sanji rolls his bottom lip past your nipple, “Let’s take this somewhere else.” His eyes linger between pleading and decisive as he looks at you.

You probe around the room, wingspan dropping to the light peeking through the bottom of the kitchen door. Right, your pulse quickens. Reclusive as it may seem, it’s the kitchen you find yourself in, half-naked and shamelessly grinding yourself over Sanji’s clothed cock. Anyone can just as well come in and catch you like this. Sanji’s mouth coils to the side like he’s been reading the thought from your face. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m not sharing the view with anyone.”

Sanji continues to keep you pressed against his chest as he gets up, and without hesitation, he grabs you by the hips, lifting you off the floor until your legs can’t do much of anything but wrap themselves around his waist. As you hover over counters and past the fridge, he occasionally leaves sloppy kisses on your shoulder, on your neck, your collarbone. They become even messier as he locks the door to the pantry and deliberately places you atop some crates of whatever Sanji stores to keep the crew fed. Taking a moment to have another look at you, he drops to his knees, a sudden, pathetic sound, and you smile because it’s pretty clear what’s coming next. 

“Is this it?” you prop a leg onto his shoulder, bringing him closer to the inside of your thigh. “Is this the nasty little fantasy you’ve been getting your dick wet on these days?”

He sighs into the fabric of your pants. Yes, he tries to say. You help him unbutton your pants, with a hint of lingerie peeking out now, damp and inviting, making Sanji forget how breathing works for a minute. 

It’s intoxicating. Letting him get this close to you is intoxicating. 

Pulling your pants off one leg, “I think about you, every so often.”

He can’t lie, not to you. 

The way you look at him feels like waiting to hear the punchline to a really bad joke. “Like you think of anyone with a slit in their pants.”

“This is—” he takes a moment. “Absolutely not true, sweetheart.”

“It’s ok. I won’t get mad,” a lie. “We’re put on this earth to drink and dance and love, isn’t that right, lover-boy?”

For someone whose most undertakings come from a place of discipline—schedules and lists and spotless counters, a cook but not a glutton, a composer but hardly a dancer—the words scatter into his face like less truth and more of an invitation. Even around women, caught in a hopeless chase for catharsis, he’s tied to rules and principles too tight for anyone but him and the geezers he grew up with at the Baratie to understand. For Sanji is a distasteful dichotomy between incarnating an Apollo in his own right and enslaving himself to his Muses.

Rosy-cheeked and hesitant, a delightful fog set in his eyes.

He nods nevertheless. 

“Now,” and you grip him by the collar, a little meaner than intended. “Eat this pussy like you missed it.”

The smile he gives you hearing this is genuine, sweet. “I thought you wouldn’t ask.” Without hesitation he pushes two fingers into the plush of your panties, wet sounds shooting blissfully from underneath, and leans forward. It’s with his teeth that he pulls your panties to the side, but he’s gentle as he does it, careful not to bruise any of the skin he reveres just so. Sanji praises you then with a kiss, full and open-mouthed, hardly containing the mournful moans leaving him at the touch. They are hot against your folds, falling in perfect sync with the movement of his tongue and lips, and you’re fast to reward Sanji with a mewl of your own—in a voice you didn’t know you had but you can now hear filling the room, fogging your thoughts and numbing your chest. He’s good at this. You aren’t sure if the skill is something that came with practice, talent, or both, not that it matters. But to say a selfish part in you doesn’t want to keep him all to yourself would be a lie. 

When he pulls away, his beard is coated in your slick. “Dear goodness,” he says, breath coming out slow, “You’re sweet. More of this and you might get someone addicted.”

“Watch out,” you say, smoothing your leg down his back. “Too much sugar isn’t good for your health.”

“That’s what they say about smoking, and here I am.” Laughter stays buried somewhere in his throat. He gives your slit another kiss, and another, caressing your thigh with his thumb. “But I must admit, I wouldn’t give up on something as savoury, even if it killed me.”

“I wouldn’t give up on you.”

As if, freak. 

Cheeks heated, you push Sanji deeper between your legs, somewhat hoping he’d drown along with the words, and he whimpers in response. It doesn’t come much as a surprise when you notice he sometimes reaches down to palm himself as he eats you out, needy with his knees pressed into wood and face flooded with slick, unbuckled belt beating a tattoo into the wood you’re seated on. 

“Fucking whore,” you dig your nails into his nape. “Mouth full of cunt and still looking like you’re about to die of thirst.”

Delirious at the sound of your voice, he continues lapping at your pussy, tongue flat across the spots that render you messier. Sanji likes it when you become just as loud as him, even closer to losing sanity when you pull his hair and call out for him, honey dripping off his name in ecstatic neediness. Seconds later he pushes two fingers in, and you yelp at the fullness, soon yearning for more, and more, whatever it takes to maintain the maddening sensation building up in your stomach.

“S-Sanji, I—” you hear yourself saying. “I’m close.”

“Oh, merde,” he manages, punched out and weak. “Mon sucre d’orge, that’s it, let yourself go for me.”

When you come, you feel like your voice doesn’t belong to you, breaking itself on a vowel, and it takes Sanji all the resolve he could gather not to lose himself at the same time. A beat later your focus—dazed and blurry from tears—collapses from the lightbulb bending from the ceiling to the blond of his hair. His chin is damp as you take it between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his face to meet you. 

“What do we say?” 

You try to dismiss the impulse to kiss yourself away from his lips and chin. 

Sanji closes his eyes, runs his tongue across his lips. “Thank you for the meal, dearest.”

“That’s a good man,” pushing the hair off his face. “How about we switch places?”

“I think I’d love that,” he says.

Matter-of-factly, “Of course you would.”

So you stand up, still feather-light with the memory of Sanji’s mouth on your slit, and the crates clatter when you push him in their direction. He pretends not to be distraught by the sound of something breaking under his weight. All bad thoughts seem ignored and forgotten nevertheless as your arms lock around his neck, and your bare chest starts rubbing itself against his. You’re a riot, Sanji. Breath catching in his lungs, Sanji is thankful when you further unbutton his pants, run a cold finger across his cock, hot and dripping at the tip. You both know this won’t take long. Something warm and intimate kindles the blue in his eyes, like fire reflecting off the waves of the sea, and despite yourself your thoughts are taken away to the likelihood of an after. Always fun to play with. 

“Gods,” he says, breathless, and your heart skips a few more beats as you feel his thumb brushing off your bottom lip. “I know I’ve been making this point all night, but you should really see yourself right now.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you try to adjust yourself on his cock. He’s bigger than you thought, and you attempt to distract the thought by running your fingertips over the faint traces of blonde hair lining his belly, by clinging on to the encouragement you’ve found in his stare. He’s patient with you, taking some time of his own to memorise your body down to the finest detail. 

“Ngh—” you huff. “Would you build me an altar, Sanji? Nice and clean so you can fuck me on it as much as I please.”

“Yeah, I would,” he leaves a kiss behind your ear. “I could build you a whole temple, darling. Grow a dainty little grapevine by the columns and feed you all the stuff you like. Each day, I’d take care of my grapevine, and at night, I’d watch you dance and drink under the stars.”

A smile, sincere. “Sounds lovely.”

“Only because you're there, angel,” he says. 

You can’t really tell when you’ve started moving, as if your body has been functioning on its own. But as your hips swing back and forth, gradually finding their own rhythm, you feel yourself falling into a desire to touch. Anything, anywhere, from the unevenly heaving chest beneath his shirt to the fullness of his lips, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, sour with cologne and sweat. You’re not sure when it’s been the last time you felt this way; barely in control. A long time, maybe never. 

It’s primal, what he unlocks in you, all teeth and restless movement, and Sanji hovers between thrashed and captivated as he sits with a hand coiled around your waist and another buried into your nape. Sometimes he jerks up into you in a devoted attempt to offer momentum. Other times, he spills syrup into your ears as he tells you how good you are to him. What has he done to deserve such heavenly treatment? Would he be ever able to repay you for this? Jars clatter under your bodies as they curl and bend against each other at a steady pace. Nose climbing up Sanji’s neck, your tongue circles around a spot your teeth have sunk themselves in too deep. A moan escapes him not long after. 

It’s melodic, and it makes you dizzy. “See what happens if you play nice for a change?” you say. “Ah, people will want to praise you for it.”

To this he can only nod, a hand feeling now across your chest. 

“And you’re taking your reward so well, Sanji,” arms thrown around his neck. “Always so devoted, loving me so good.”

“Fuck,” Sanji’s mouth drops to your jaw. “Please never leave my side,” he breathes between his teeth.

Met with the words, a sinking feeling creeps somewhere in your stomach, but you’re too light-headed to care. Rocking him back and forth, chasing a second peak, you cannot think of much right now other than how good Sanji looks with his shirt messed up, chest hair sprouting out the fabric you managed to unbutton, and how good it feels when he fills you up with his cock. 

The moment he takes to French—a waterfall of words, half-words, tripping onto each other—you’re pretty sure he’s about to come too. But as out of it as he may seem, Sanji still surfaces with a stamp preference for your pleasure over his own. 

“You there, dear?” Something vile in his voice hopes that you are. 

“Yeah,” you assure him. “Almost there.”

He still comes first, cock twitching between your folds, and it’s loud, sinful. A couple more ins and outs through his orgasm and you follow, bliss wetting your cheeks and blurring your vision. 

It’s eerie, really, to feel yourself grow numb at the chest of that one man you think needs to be taught a lesson. Yet you’ve never held someone as tightly as you hold Sanji now, breaths ragged, skins scorched. His release drips off your thigh, lukewarm and damp. He starts caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. There’s warmth in his eyes, and you cannot help but lean into the touch. 

“That felt—” a second of thought. “You were incredible.”

Your eyes remain on the marks blooming on his neck. “You will need to start wearing scarfs for a while.”

“Don’t worry about me, mon coeur,” he says. “What I need to do right now is help you clean yourself up.”

So he gently pulls you from his lap, careful not to louse you up any further. As one might expect from someone who thrives on organised chaos, Sanji is all efficiency as he zips his pants and picks up your own. Amusement pulls the corners of your lips a little higher watching him furtively check the crates and jars and cans you’ve jeopardised just seconds ago. 

“You stay right there,” Sanji’s voice is less feeble and more assertive as he puts on his belt. “I’ll fetch you everything you need from the kitchen. Will be back in two.”

ii.

Moonlight delicately reflects off the waves swirling in your glass, like a sea of blood caught inside a crystal ball. A sip or two later you set the wine back down on the floor, and it lets out a light tap when you do. The railing of the ship is cold against your back. 

“I saw Franky handing Robin a pretty fat buck,” you tell Sanji, arms resting on your knees. He’s loose as he sits next to you, smoke curling up from his cigarette, the bottle of wine you opened just the night before lingering between your forms. “This morning after breakfast.”

Out of the corner of his eye, “Do you think they?”

“They most certainly did,” you say. 

A pause.

Sanji kisses the rim of his own fill, a smirk bending to the side. “Fucking shithead bet against me.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” you turn to fully look at him, nails tapping against glass. 

“You worry people will find out about us?” with his tongue he pushes his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to another. 

Another tap, louder this time, uncertainty forming a knot in your throat. Cold seeps into your clothes, brisk and cruel, and you drag your legs under yourself, thinking of a thing to say, heavy with the onset of a headache. 

It’s still Sanji who breaks the silence for you, “Well, we do enjoy each other’s company from time to time.” 

“We fuck from time to time.”

Sanji clicks his tongue—he’s never liked the sound of this word, not when used to describe what’s happening between you at least, but you know this is something he’ll never say to your face. 

“We might’ve slept together. But nothing’s for certain until we say the word, and until we do, butterfly,” he reaches for your hand. “We are free to take our time with each other.”

Feeling the gentle squeeze of your palm, you breathe out, and suddenly the world unfurls in front of you in softer colours. Maybe it’s not people finding out you’ve been afraid of, but Sanji, hopeless romantic Sanji, hoping to seal off a relationship as soon as he’s gotten a smudge of attention from someone he barely knows and offered wine to. 

“Plus,” he huffs the smoke out of his lungs. “I have faith that Robin’s beautiful soul will respect our privacy.” Then his voice drops to an uncanny drone, “But if tank engine dick witnessed something and blurts out I’m fucking him up.”

You tilt your head up, losing yourself amongst the clusters of stars blinking in the dark, sewing constellations in your mind. Tonight the sky is clearer than usual. Closer to your proximity, loafers drag themselves across the wood. Wine spilling into glasses. Citrus and pepper and nicotine, drawing a tender picture inside your chest.

There’s a chance Sanji might be something more to you than you’ve led yourself to believe. A thought you can't wait to fade out once you get sober.

roll credits.

[mochiwrites]

“G!” Scar grins as he sees the other approaching his train. He jumps down the ladder, landing with wobbly feet as he makes contact with the ground. “Just the birdie I was looking for!”

Grian lifts a brow, “Oh? What a coincidence. I was looking for you as well.” His wings flutter and twitch in response, folding neatly against his back. “Got any diamonds to spare?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve run out of diamonds again,” Scar tuts as he shakes his head in disapproval. Grian grimaces in answer, earning a disappointed sigh from the zoo keeper. “For shame, sir!”

“Just be happy I’m not skimming from the top of Ore Mountain again.” Grian squints at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I borrow a few or what?”

Scar makes a show of thinking about it, dramatizing his hum and tapping his chin. “You happen to have amayzin’ timing, considering I had something to give you.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head, looking at the other with curiosity. “Do I get the diamonds too?”

“Oh yes, of course, of course!” Scar joyfully nods, his warm smile not doing a single thing to cover up his salesman voice (as Grian has so lovingly dubbed it). “This would be an exchange of goods, after all! It’s only fair you’re compensated for your time!”

Grian stares at him for a second, eyes just shy of a squint. He doesn’t think there’s really an exchange going on, considering he’s not giving Scar anything in return; besides his presence, that is. He could point out to Scar that this isn’t an equal trade (barely a trade at all, really), but where would the fun in that be? He kind of wants to see where Scar is going with this.

Plus if he really feels bad about whatever this is, Grian can always find some way to repay Scar later.

Wings fluttering against his back, he shrugs. “Okay.”

“Great!” Scar beams at him, clapping his hands together. “Alright, I need you to stay perfectly still, no twitching a single feather, mister! Oh, and close your eyes too!” he directs the avian, earning an odd look from Grian.

“O…kay..?” Doing as told, Grian closes his eyes, curious. It’s definitely some surprise Scar has for him. But what is it? And why? He hasn’t missed any birthdays or anniversaries, has he? Maybe he can take a little peek… Scar never said anything about keeping his Watcher Eyes closed.

As if reading his thoughts, he hears Scar exclaim, “Yes that includes your funky magic eyeballs too, you pesky bird!”

Drat.

Grian sighs, resolving himself to the agony of waiting patiently. How horrible. Scar should feel terrible for making him wait like this. The build up is killing him! He’s eager with anticipation!

His breath stills as he feels Scar’s presence get closer to him. Grian can feel the warmth of his exhales as he releases them, all gentle and soft. Scar makes a few concentrated noises, and Grian can imagine the way his tongue pokes out from his mouth just slightly. He waits before feeling something being carefully set on his head, gentle palms combing through his hair. The feeling is followed by soft lips against his nose, as well as a little laugh as he scrunches his face.

“Okay, now open your eyes!”

Grian squints against the sunlight as his eyes open again, having to blink a few times before he looks at Scar in front of him. It takes him a second to notice anything different, setting a hand on top of his hair as he looks at the zoo keeper. He feels soft petals under his fingers, and finds that Scar has a crown made of sunflowers nestled in his hair. “Flower crowns?” he asks, confused.

“I made us matching ones!” Scar exclaims, his smile growing impossibly larger. “See I got the idea from Pearl after talking with her about doing a gift shop for the zoo—because you can’t have a zoo and no gift shop, that’s criminal!— and then bayum, it hit me! I’ll sell flower crowns as one of the items since I’ve got sniffers!” He gestures with his hands as he speaks, and Grian is captured by every word from the brilliant man. “I don’t even have a single enclosure of the zoo done yet but oh Grian I got so inspired, I had to do something with the idea!”

Grian can’t help his fond look as he sets a hand on his hip. “So you made some flower crowns?”

Scar eagerly nods, “Yup! I made them with you in mind so… who better to share the first try with than my pretty bird?”

The feathers on Grian’s wings fluff up at that. “You’ve got to be the biggest sap I know,” he sighs, although he finds the gesture incredibly sweet. “Though I have to ask, how is this an exchange? I’m not giving you anything.”

“Sure you are,” Scar argues, turning to set down his ender chest. “I get customer feedback and a free excuse to see you smile!” He looks at Grian, pleased, before ducking down to dig into his ender chest.

Grian decides right then and there that he’s going to kiss this man silly. Then he’s going to properly repay him.

(And if Grian leaves him a small arrangement of flowers on top of the shulker box of sniffer eggs? Well. Scar knows exactly who they’re from.)

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤkisses and soupㅤ...ㅤ( 제이크 )

ㅤㅤ﹙826﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff, est. relㅤㅤwarnings the reader is sick, kissingㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ for everyone who's not in a good health, hope you feel better soon. as always, please rb and give feedback, it helps a lot ^_^ iNDEX

“babe?” jake pokes your cheeks gently and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling your blanket down a little. he smiles lovingly at your sleeping face, brushing a few loose strands of hair off your face before speaking again. “wake up, angel. i made you some soup,”

he chuckles at how you groan softly, mumbling ‘five minutes more’ under your breath. he knows very well that the five minutes would turn into an hour in just a blink of the eye, and had it been some other day, he wouldn’t have thought twice before agreeing, even sliding in next to you under the blankets to wrap you in his arms.

“you said that twenty minutes ago,” he shakes your shoulders gently, waiting for you to wake up. he watches as your eyes flutter open, taking a few minutes to adjust to the light before you sit up and lean against the headboard.

you glare at him— try to, even though it only makes him laugh at your cute face and the adorable pout on your lips. “you’re even cuter when you’re sick, you know that?” 

he catches you huffing at his words, admiring how beautiful you look even though you’ve just woken up. your dishevelled hair, drowsy eyes, soft sleepy voice and actions that are laced with laziness as you reach out for the bowl kept on the bedside table before retreating your hands. “i want some water first,”

and jake loves to take care of you when you’re sick, as much as your condition worries him to death. he would do every single thing you ask him— as he does now, making a quick run to the kitchen since the bottle on the table is empty— and all you have to do is sit there and look pretty…and get better, of course. 

“here,” he returns with a glass of water that he holds out for you, and the refilled bottle that he places on the table, right next to the picture of you two on your very first date. he takes the glass from your hands when you’re done, lost in your beauty for a few seconds yet again. if he could, he would treat you like this every day, where you wouldn’t have to get out of bed for anything. 

“now, the soup,” he reaches out to grab the bowl, interrupted by your quiet and bedridden voice.

“it’s bitter,” you speak through a frown dancing on your lips, knowing very well how the supposed ‘magical soup’ tastes— a name given to it by his mother since she used to make it for him as a kid whenever he got sick. and how he’s doing it for you. 

he sighs, brushing his thumb on your skin and drawing soft, soothing circles on the back of your hand, giving it a tender kiss that makes your heart swell up with warmth. “don’t you want to get better, sweetheart?”

“you said i’m cuter when i’m sick,” and it makes him laugh how you haven’t lost your cheekiness even when you’re stuck in bed with a terrible fever. 

he notices how you pout even more when he laughs, causing him to scoot closer to you and cup your face ever so gently as if you’re porcelain. “you’re the cutest when you’re not sick,”

as much as you hate him for discarding your excuses so that you don’t have to drink that thing, you feel the butterflies in your chest when he cups your face with eyes that look at you as if you’re his entire world. and jake would agree because you are— his beginning, end, and everything in between and beyond. 

you squint your eyes when he leans closer, brushing his thumb over your lips and leaving his feathery touch lingering on them for a few seconds longer before you speak. “what are you doing?”

“i’m kissing you,” he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, immediately capturing your lips in a much needed yet unhurried kiss. he moves one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and then in your hair, while the other slowly intertwines your fingers. 

you pull back shortly, despite yearning to feel his lips against yours once again. your eyes linger on his lips for a brief second before you frown at him. “you’ll get sick,” 

he doesn’t give you any room for negotiation, immediately putting his hand on your back to pull you closer, almost on his lap. the grin on his face widens when he hears you gasp at the sudden movement, even more so when he takes your hands and puts it on his shoulders just the way he likes it. you’re about to say something but he interrupts you with a quick peck, hands resting your waist just a little tighter. “well then, kiss me till i’m sick of it,”

and the soup grows cold next to your bed, left unattended for the night. 

taglist is open

[bahrtofane]

about time

things have always been easy with trent, attached to the hip since you could remember. your other half, his biggest supporter. things were bound to turn romantic no? everyone was rooting for it, secretly you always were too. 

your first date as a couple goes more or less how you planned, awkward and full of teasing. 

word count : 3.1K+

watch it : mild jealousy, cuties, fluff fluff, kinda domestic near the end?

—--

“eat your food." 

you squint, "what the hell else am i doing, you eat your food."

he scoffs, "im literally half way done with my plate."

"it's literally not even a proper portion of course you're almost done." you point at his tiny little section of steak on about a tablespoon of mash potatoes. 

he waves you off and makes a comment about the "liberty of a kitchen."

you ignore this and take another bite of whatever the hell you ordered. you don't remember. you were too busy trying not to focus too much on the man in front of you.  the all black outfit is insanity, you know he only went for it because you told him ages ago all black looks the best on him. and now here you are. suffering

you just nodded to whatever the waitress was saying. though she could have done with less ogglying at your date. your trent. 

you take pride in knowing your his go to, his best friend, his #1. you've been by his side longer than you can remember being without. he's your other half in every sense. before the fame and money, lavish life and dwindling time. he's always been yours somehow. 

maybe you should've known at some point that feelings were bound to be brewing. 

everyone and their mother had told you. hell, even your own mother had told you so. but you waved them off. he's my friend, no trent is my best friend, ew no that would be so weird, i can't even stand hin on a good day, he's annoying, nope just friends. 

now look at you. seated across from each other, his sleeves rolled up while you eat in candle light. the dark blue drapery of the establishment makes this feel way more intimate than needed. and the chandeliers that hang over your head are enough to make you stare in wonder. 

his sharp features almost soften like this, tucked away in a far corner away from prodding eyes and unnecessary media attention. where it's only the two of you in your little bubble, and the soft live piano that travels from the main foye. you enjoy this, but mainly you enjoy him. 

you noticed he cleaned up his facial hair for this, it makes your heart melt. the silver jewelry that shines on his golden skin is a mirror of the silver that drapes across you. he told you to wear silver. the maniac. he planned this all the way down to the damn jewelry. 

(the both of you are matching in general, which makes you feel something closer to insanity, it gives you a thrill when people’s gazes wash over the two of you and they can so easily tell you are here together. for each other. the stares you got while walking in don't go unforgotten.)

he's the one who dragged you to this restaurant, one much more fancy that you care for. any establishment that calls for floor length dresses to eat is above you, but he insisted. even taking time to tell you how stunning you looked on the way here. your cheeks were on fire the whole time you tried to come up with a counter, failing miserably and just telling him he looked handsome too. 

what a gentleman, driving you here and keeping a hand on yours the whole time. you were sweating the whole time. this whole thing is new to you. but you try not to explode while you sit across from him, sipping on your water to avoid eye contact. 

trent pretends to suddenly be very interested in the silverware, but you don't miss the way his gaze still manages to shift over to you, landing somewhere between your eyes and lips.

you sigh loudly, your appetite disappearing while you push your plate in front of you. 

"do not even start." he warns, fork raised and pointed at you. 

"i didn't even do anything ! what's with you tonight. "

"could ask you the same thing," he mumbles between mouthfuls of his steak, "you're being, very weird."

"im on a dinner date with you how else do you want me to act."

he coughs awkwardly at this, "i don't know ! normally. you haven't made fun of my shoes yet. where's the old grouchy evil and conniving friend i know. you're too, " he waves his fork in the air trying to find the right word, "civil."

you snort, "that's a mouthful. i don't know this whole dynamic shift is taking a while to get used to, " you shrug.

"we need to stop saying i don't know so often." he sighs, rubbing his eyes aggressively. 

you choose to ignore that bit, "and i need to be civil in public or your adoring fans might have my head."

he rolls his eyes, "that's a stretch."

you wave him off with a hand, "you never know. crazy people do crazy things."

he looks at you fondly at this, giving you one of his signature smiles, you look away and change the subject as fast as you can think. you don't need weak knees in a high end establishment. 

"you know i would've been just fine with takeout and a movie." you mumble softly.

he gives you a soft look " i know, but i wanted to make it special. take you out somewhere nice for a change. we never do that."

"you're not going to let me pay are you?" you muse.

he gives you a look, "im offended you even brought that up. i hope you know you're never going to be paying for things ever again right."

"and i hope you know i'm going to fight you over it the whole way through."

he finds this amusing, "yeah yeah yeah shut up and eat your food, i think my socks are sliding off my foot."

"i don't want to hear about your sweaty foot while i eat trent, gross." you fake gag. 

"cry about it." he dead pans. 

you narrow your eyes at him, "i'm going to talk about the pimple i popped on my shoulder, in great detail. is that what you want?"

"ew gross hell no. no more socks or feet geez." he scoffs. 

you cackle, "problem solved then."

he rolls his eyes but goes back to eating anyway, cutting his steak with way too much force than necessary. 

you on the other hand have to play tug of war with the fabric of your dress in order to keep it where you want it. 

"you want to leave don't you?" he comments. 

"that obvious?" he nods, "yep," popping the p.

"i don't want it to seem like I'm ungrateful for the effort or anything, because i swear it's not like that. i'm happy to be with you regardless and yeah. we don't have to leave." you try to explain. 

as much as you enjoy spending time with him this isn't your scene. you're aching to go home, and so are you poor ankles. these heels can only be worn for so long and they are coming up on their expiration date for the night. maybe trent can help take them- no fuck. bad. bad bad. this is a dinner, you're at dinner be civil. 

trent seems to be none the wiser as his attention remains on you. 

"why would we stay if you don't want to ?" he looks at you confused, brows drawn together, arm propped up against the table while he waits for an explanation. 

"because you're the one who wanted to come here?" "so? if you wanna go home then we'll go home."

home. oh. he's starting to refer to his house as home. for the both of you. that does something to you, you're almost dizzy. god how can one person be so sweet. 

"we can finish up and head home? i really don't mind." you suggest. 

he hums at this, "alright then. we’re stopping by the chinese place you like so much, you didn't even eat. "

"to be fair, the portions are the size of my pinkie and i think they took too much creative liberty in the kitchen." you wrinkle your nose. 

he giggles, that shy little spurt of laughter, the one you love so much and always try to coax out of him, "i forget the flavors can be uh, adventurous with most of their dishes. "

you chuckle, "definitely adventurous."

he flags down the waitress from earlier who bats her eyelashes one too many times at him while you roll your eyes. he gives you a glare while he pays, before you can open your mouth. while you get up, dusting your dress down, he presses you flush to him, effectively shutting down any advances. you can't help but grin at the little act. even if your skin is on fire from the contact.

your lead out the back by one of the valets to avoid the busy main section and the endless cameras that wait for you from the front.

you step out to a colder night than you expected, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to warm yourself up. the valet steps away to retrieve his car while you shiver harder than a skeleton animatronic in a halloween pop up store. 

trent notices, coming up behind you to wrap both arms around your waist, pulling you close. 

"cold?" he has the nerve to ask, flush against you and the damn dress that clings against your skin, his breath tickles your ear while you lick your lips nervously. his arms are much more muscular up close. the whole of him is, you can feel the efforts of his training as they hold you. good lord you're going to lose your mind. and the chest you're pressed up against? do not.

"a little." you whisper back, afraid to say much more.  

he hums, rubbing your arms for you, sending goosebumps all the way down your spine, and he has the audacity to chuckle at your reaction. 

"cars gonna be here soon."

you can only nod dumbly.

he unlatches when the car comes into view. thanking the man with a clap on shoulder, almost like an old friend, and a generous tip.

he opens the door for you, holding his arm out to help you balance, sweet of him. 

you duck inside while he says his last thanks and goodbyes to the valet, turning on the heat first thing when he gets inside. 

the drive is silent, not much to talk about after you confessed your love to each other just days before. 

you could almost laugh at the complete 180 from this week to the last. youre so so glad it ended up this way nonetheless. you don't think you could handle another second suffering in silence. 

how it all went down makes you cry in full honesty. it was an argument. over fucking instagram. you were bitching about the girls who are on his dick and he called you over protective and you defended yourself because duh. that somehow had spiraled into how he's insane, and then your relationship. and then you stormed out, don't ask, you don't remember. 

he tracked you down at your place with flowers as an apology and you just lost it, because what kind of friend gets flowers and calls in just platonic?

lucky for the both of you it wasnt platonic, not to him, not to you. 

he confessed first, that you were more important to him than any of the women he follows combined and so much more. you're his everything can't you see that? he loves you, in every sense. he hates seeing you upset so please, don't cry. 

you kissed him, slow and hesitant while he broke out in giggles. 

"does that mean what i think it does ?" he had whispered against your lips. 

you nodded, shy and tender. 

"i need to hear it. please, say it." breathless, at the cusp of losing his grip on everything. 

"i love you trent, more than i think i can explain. you are my other half yeah? my everything."

and so here you are, watching the shapes of the city breeze past you as the gps guides you to your beloved chinese take out. you can almost taste the noodles you're so ready for it you're starving. 

a hand rests on your thigh, softly tracing shapes the rest of the way there and you hide a smile. you don't think you'll ever get used to any of this new found affection. things you once only day dreamed of having now right in front of you.

you're drowsy by the time you pull into the familiar parking lot. you giggle at just how ridiculous the two of you look. stepping out of a probably hundred thousand dollar car, if not more. dressed like you're going to the ballon d'or. all while walking into a quiet little family own take out spot. 

trent takes your hand again, while you fight to bunch up your dress to get over the obnoxious curve. 

he fights a smile while locking the car behind you. 

"you try getting over this mountain in heels and this long ass dress i dare you." you hiss. 

he snorts but keeps his mouth shut as you inside the familiar space. sighing in glee. 

the kind older woman who always takes your orders doesn't bat an eye at your dress, but welcomes you with a warm hug. 

“the usual?” she beams, even at this time of night. cheery as ever. 

“yes please !”

she smiles, getting to work making your order while you drum against your thigh. bad habit. 

you’re very thankful it’s as late as it is, the place is dead empty. a little safe haven. 

you reach into your purse but mr “i’ll pay for it all” stops you. 

you tsk, “come on this is my spot. i want to tip her well. let me at least have this after that fancy meal.”

“i said i would pay,” he states firmly. 

“i know, but paying here is special to me. and i want it to come from my hand. she deserves it after all the kindness she’s shown to me over the years.” you gesture to her wrapping up your boxes. 

you remember when you used to be a student low on cash, she would always fill your plate with double of everything or just give you the next size up, and extra dessert, free drink. the little things, life is all about the little things. 

he sighs, “fine fine. i won’t take this away from you. “

you smile, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. he waits for you on the side while you go up to the counter. 

she smiles at you knowingly, “finally made a move on that one huh?” 

you blush, “we both made moves and things worked out well. “

she grins, “finally. i thought it would never happen, you know. maybe i’ll get to see your kids too huh?”

you chuckle, kids with trent huh. not a bad idea, “maybe you will.” you sigh fondly. handing her the money. 

you hand a few boxes to trent and motion to the door before she catches on. but it’s a little late. 

you sneak out of there while she’s yelling at you to take your change, “keep it ! it’s all for you !!” you shout back. giggling while you and trent make your escape. 

the ride to his house is filled with laughter and you don’t ever remember being happier. 

its all giggles and shy smiles as he leads you up to his home, hand in hand while you race up the steps and make a dash for the elevator. the door man gives you too a look but doesn’t comment, yet. you know he will sooner or later but you don’t care. 

the take out boxes are split in between the two of you as you hold them snug against your chest. humming softly as the elevator opens. 

the ride up is filled with soft teasing, and more compliments. 

"im serious!" he shoves you gently, "you look, incredible." 

your face burns with enough heat to power an oven, his words do a number on you and all you want is to hear them over and over. but you don't say this. 

"you look so handsome trent." is all you find to reply back. 

a shy smile is what you get in return as the elevator opens. the walk is familiar but your feet are making it feel much longer than needed. 

he opens the door and you dont waste a second collapsing on his couch, groaning at the pressure finally being off your feet. he takes the boxes from your hands and sets them on the living room table, kicking his shoes off somewhere as he organizes them just how you like. 

"eat first then change?" he takes a seat next to you. 

you shake your head, "don't wanna ruin the dress."

"alright," he nods

you attempt to get up but your feet are swollen by the looks of it and you could cry at the though of taking another step in these damned heels. 

you reach over carefully to begin the effort of getting them of you but holy fuck is it taking much longer than needed.

"you're taking so long," he groans, scooting down to raise right ankle to rest gently in his knee, hands working slowly. 

you sigh in sweet sweet relief when the intricate lacing finally comes undone and your foot can breathe. he does the same to the left, bringing it up to rest against your right.

 your head falls back against the couch cushions, eyes closed and relaxed. it gives you a moment to really appreciate it all. to appreciate him. 

you crack your eyes open when he gives your leg a gentle tap, all done. 

you swing your feet back to the ground, scooting up closer to him. it's a beat of silence where he watches you, wait for your move. and you press gentle kisses on both cheeks, then nose, one on his forehead, and finally his lips. 

he can't keep his hands to himself at the end, a hand finds your waist, tugging you closer to him, impossibly close. the other cups your cheek gently. 

you won't part till you run out of air, panting gently against each other's skin.

"thank you." you mumble against his lips.

he hums, "anything for you. you know what."

you could reach the clouds like this, could reach the stars.

[heeseungiez]

RESOLUTION 2) not be a virgin anymore...

pairings! sim jake x fem!reader; mentions of heeseung x reader

synopsis! sim jake has always liked you, but as heeseung’s best friend, he felt weird trying to talk to you. now, with the rules around you loosening, jake refuses to miss his chance to win you over.

content warnings! smut (mdni! 18+), swearing, blowjob, loss of virginity and other smut things but it’s pretty mild

word count! ~8.4k

taglist! OPEN! send an ask to be added!

a/n! i did my best… i hope you guys like it

masterlist | next

Good morning, Decelis!

What’s up with you guys? Things have been really boring these days.

XO, Miss Decelis

You wanted to kill Lee Heeseung.

It had been a month since your shared moment at the party, but you were still dealing with the aftermath, having to wear turtlenecks or bother with makeup to cover the hickeys he gave you. You hated it. The reminder of what you had done and with whom. You hated the way he would smirk upon seeing you in class, in the hallways, or whenever you ran into each other at the hotel — you weren’t even safe at the place that should be your home.

Lee Heeseung was everywhere, as far as you were concerned. You were convinced that not only could he find you anywhere if he wanted to, but he could appear from behind a corner at any moment simply to taunt you with his presence. He didn’t even need to speak to annoy you.

This — whatever game the two of you were playing — was far worse than when he did everything in his power to annoy you. Because now, all you could think about was how it would feel to actually lose your virginity to him. You wondered if it would have happened at the party, had you not been interrupted.

You scoffed when Heeseung sat down in class in front of you. You could see the lopsided grin on his lips through the back of his head. But neither of you said a word to each other. Because, despite everything, Heeseung was still keeping his reputation of a careless asshole who ignored you at school (you were the only person noticing the subtle actions that revealed he was doing the very opposite).

On the other hand, when Sim Jake walked past you to join Heeseung at the same desk, he didn’t do so before shooting you a huge grin and saying: “Hello, Y/N. How are you doing today?”

Within the group of Heeseung, Jay and Jake, the latter was the only one who didn’t blatantly disregard you before last summer. He always made time for small talk with you, approaching you at random events whenever he noticed you were alone. He was nice, in your opinion. His only downside was the fact that his best friends were Heeseung and Jay, really. Layla, his dog, almost made up for that fault in his character though.

“Hey,” you responded with a thin-lipped smile, incapable of resisting the boyish charm that Sim Jake embodied. “I’m good. Just tired.”

“Oh yeah. Assignments have been pretty killer lately,” Jake agreed, running a hand through his hair. Heeseung glanced between the two of you, squinting his eyes. “There’s a project I gotta finish for physics, and it’s been the worst. Like, I love the subject but, jeez, Mr Kang is totally doing his best to make me hate it.”

“Maybe you’d do better if you didn’t spend all your time talking about holes.” Heeseung’s innuendo was not lost on either of you, but Jake was fairly unbothered by it, shaking his friend off with a roll of his eyes.

“Maybe if you weren’t so ignorant, you’d know black holes are one of the most fascinating topics in physics,” Jake said matter-of-factly. “So excuse me if I’d rather have a presentation on that.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips at seeing Jake so bothered over physics. He might not look like it with his never-faltering flirtatious smile and those big puppy eyes, but there was clearly a nerdy side to the boy that you had never known about before. You liked this about him — you liked this change in him of finally approaching you more freely, too.

Jake’s eyes were fixated on you, drinking in your soft laugh and your new appearance.

See, Sim Jake always thought that you were pretty. Even when Heeseung and Jay seemed unimpressed, he always stopped to appreciate you. He just wasn’t sure how exactly to act around you when his friends’ feelings toward you were much different than his. But lately, they stopped complaining about every little thing you did (frankly, Jake thought they were obsessed with you and in denial since middle school). To Jake, that meant he could finally talk to you without the fear of being overly judged by his closest friends. Even now, when he spoke to you, Heeseung didn’t look as disapproving as he would’ve last year. He just minded his business on his phone aside from the few snide remarks.

“I think I’ll miss out on that one,” you said with a slight shake of your head.

It wasn’t a secret that you were not a fan of anything natural science related. Maths was your limit. Your preference lied within humanities, like sociology and psychology. The reasoning behind it was perhaps far too obvious, but you liked to pretend that you simply enjoyed learning about human behaviours, and why people acted the way they did.

Like with Jake, who had always been a bit apprehensive around you, especially when Heeseung and Jay were around. But Heeseung didn’t care anymore (if that’s what you could call it), and so Jake felt at ease speaking to you casually because he was abstained from judgement.

“That’s fine. We don’t really need to talk to have fun.” The suggestive tone made your brow raise, and when you glanced at Heeseung, the boy tensely gripped his pen. Turning his head to look at Jake, he narrowed his eyes.

From your point of view, it could be interpreted in many different ways, but you knew Heeseung could not possibly be jealous of Jake’s harmless flirting with you. It was a warning nevertheless, though, to leave you alone. Jake only understood the part where it was a warning, however, fearing that he might get an earful about it later.

He sat down, still glancing at you with another shiny smile of his, and you returned it.

“Good morning, class,” the C1 English teacher, Miss Crawford, entered the class with a stack of worksheets and files in her arms. The class stood to greet her with a bow, and she motioned for them to sit down with a smile. “Let us not dally, shall we?” she asked, giving the stack of sheets to the students closest to her to pass them on. “Each of you should keep one. Look at it, and while you do, I will prepare the instructions on the board.”

The sheet didn’t have much on it, when you got one of your own. It was mostly blank aside from the few topics on top. You recognised them as conversation topics from the textbook you got for this class.

“For the next hour, the task at hand is fairly simple,” Miss Crawford began speaking once the board was lit up with her simple presentation. “As you all know, speaking is one of the many parts of the C1 level English exams to acquire a certificate, and for today, we will focus on exactly that. Talking about a specific topic and the flow of conversation between two people. In C1 level exams, it isn’t only important to be fluent and have expansive vocabulary on your own. The reason behind the speaking exams being in pairs is to test the speaker’s ability to stop themselves from talking and give the other person the room to speak as well by asking follow-up questions.

“For that reason, I have paired all of you up on my own rather than letting you converse in pairs of your own choosing. It is better to test your abilities with someone you aren’t entirely comfortable with to help your sociability and further your chances at scoring full points in conversation.”

Miss Crawford shuffled through her papers to find the sheet that contained the pairs she assigned. The first person she looked at was you, gracing you with a smile. “I also took into account your English skills as a whole to make balanced pairs for today’s lesson. So the first pair would be Miss Y/N and Mr Sim,” she announced.

Jake turned to you instantly, sporting the look of an excited puppy. No one else mattered after that, except for Jake who moved to sit down next to you.

You barely registered it when Miss Crawford spoke again with more information. “By the end of the class, I hope you’ll get more comfortable with each other, as at the end of the term, I am going to conduct a speaking exam of my own to see if you’re making progress. For that reason, pairings are subject to change, however, I do want you and your initial partners to continue working together on other projects for the remainder of this term. That is why I cared about the balance in each pair, to make sure neither would end up doing all the work.”

The glance at Heeseung was obvious and, in your opinion, quite scathing. You enjoyed watching him squirm with the tiniest bit of guilt in his expression under Miss Crawford’s gaze. His partner for the project was Kim Seungmin, and you actually couldn’t believe how well acquainted the teacher was with all of your English skills. There had to be so much work outside of school going into all this planning. Not to mention, if anything, Kim Seungmin would never let anything slide, let alone having to do an entire project for Heeseung. He was the type of guy to rather have them both fail.

Jake, although listening to everything that was said, kept staring at you and your beautiful features. The way your hair framed your face. A few strands of hair kept falling into your eyes and he wanted to push it away. Something about this new you was so irresistibly alluring to him that all he could think about was how it would feel to kiss your red-stained lips.

If he had the tiniest bit of a crush on you in the past, then it’s come back tenfold now. He wanted to test how much of you has truly changed. Whether you would accept him now despite being nothing like his other friends. He wasn’t like Heeseung or Jay, the careless kings of the school, and neither was he like Sunghoon, the hot scholarship kid who could figure skate.

Jake was just Jake. The guy who had a whole room dedicated to his collection of expensive Lego and his powerful PC setup to play video games.

Sure, he had hooked up with girls in the past — he was just a guy, after all — but he didn’t want you to be one of those girls. He knew that if he was going to have you, it would have to be something more. He would cherish you and make sure that you were never hurt again (a promise he can’t really keep).

And he’d fuck you so good.

“Let’s start then.” You turned toward Jake to fully face him with a smile on your face. “All of these topics are absolutely ass, but at least they’re standardised.” You spoke, oblivious to the thoughts running through Jake’s mind.

Perhaps for now, it was better that way.

Working on a presentation with Jake was the easiest thing in the world. This was genuinely the first time you took a class and didn’t end up doing all the work on your own because you were the ‘perfect princess’ and ‘teacher’s pet’ who cared about a good grade. And even if your groups did some of the work, it was the worst, least effort possible, type of contribution known to man. So when Jake kept hitting you with ideas about what you could do in your presentation, what could be said, adding more pages to your research, you couldn’t help the incessant need to just plant your lips on his to show your appreciation.

And a part of you thought: you could do exactly that. The library was empty enough with the two of you being among the last students still bothering to stay there. Besides, you noticed the way Jake looked at you. In a way, it was more innocent than whenever you caught Heeseung staring at you, but you knew that the thoughts were all the same.

“I’m tired,” Jake whined, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms and legs on the seat. “My fingers hurt. Let’s take a short break,” he said, catching the soft smile on your lips.

“We could just go home, Jake,” you pointed out, tapping the screen of your phone to show him the time as if you both didn’t have your laptops open for research.

“I don’t feel like going home yet, though.” Jake licked his lips, shaking his head.

“You like spending time with me that much, huh?” You grinned teasingly, but the genuine look on Jake’s face momentarily shut you up.

“Kinda, yeah,” he replied, tilting his head to the side. “Being with the other guys is still the same thing over and over again. You know how annoying it is whenever they start complaining about their sex lives?” Jake shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Like, I’m not against having a good fuck but they act like they don’t hit it at least once a week.”

“TMI, Jakey,” you said, raising a brow at him. But then something occurred to you, and you wanted to know more. “They complain? What exactly about?”

“Well, Heeseung’s been pretty frustrated lately because, apparently, there’s a girl he wants but she doesn’t want him.” Jake shrugged, completely unaware of what information he was giving you.

You had to suppress your smirk at the thought of Lee Heeseung possibly being frustrated over you. Though his sex life had hardly been boring since the party because Miss Decelis has been diligently reporting on all of his spotted escapades, which included him not-so-discreetly getting out of an empty classroom with some girl from senior year recently.

“Interesting,” you hummed.

“Jay’s been getting shit since fucking a MILF, so yeah…” Jake continued with a shake of his head. “Says all the girls at school are too soft for him, whatever the fuck that means.”

“We both know what that means,” you said, narrowing your eyes at Jake, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“Fair.” You nodded, leaning on your elbow as you stared at Jake. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you hooked up with someone recently?” you asked, biting your lip. His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips, and then back up with a gulp.

The way Jake’s cheeks instantly heated up was adorable. He was far from innocent (Miss Decelis knowledge), but he was easily taken off guard, and you liked to take advantage of it.

“Pretty sure it’d be Miss Decelis hot news if I did,” he said.

“Not everyone is caught, Jake,” you pointed out with a lazy smile, moving closer. You doing the flirting was perhaps the most unlikely thing in the world, but you liked discovering this new side of yourself.

“Most of the time, they are,” Jake spoke sagely.

“But we don’t have to be,” you said confidently, leaning in close enough to feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. “I know a well hidden spot in the library,” you added, not divulging further (the only reason you had the secret spot was to hide, back in the days).

“Y/N—” Jake wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, he absolutely wanted this. But on the other, he was confused as to why. His goal was to possibly make you fall in love with him and this was most certainly not a part of the plan. Not yet, anyway.

You mistook the confusion in his eyes for rejection. Pulling away from him, you pressed your lips into a thin line, cringing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I suppose you don’t—”

You didn’t finish the sentence with Jake pulling at your wrist to make your lips collide with his. Yours melded into his perfectly, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip in a silent question for permission, and you granted it eagerly, enjoying the heat that consumed your insides as Jake kissed you with fervour.

He had a dream like this once. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t dreaming now, having fallen asleep after all the work you two had been doing.

But then you pulled away from Jake, eyes glassy with lust, and you tugged at his hand innocently, like you two were in kindergarten and you wanted to show him the new toy you got for your birthday. Except when Jake let you lead him away from your table, it was to your secret spot. A place entirely covered by shelves with books at the back of the library — the part of it that nobody ever visited unless they were desperate.

You pushed him against the closest wall, planting your lips on Jake’s again, and he reciprocated it gratefully, his fingers tangling in your soft hair. His dick was already hard for you, and you had barely done anything. It was obvious when you leaned into him, and there was something you wanted to try.

Jake whimpered when your lips left his, and his eyes grew wide when you dropped to your knees without warning, undoing the belt of his trousers. “Y/N, what are you—”

You stopped your action mid-pulling his pants down to look up at him. “Jake, if you don’t want this—”

“No, no, no, no, I want this. Of course, I want this, I’ve always wanted this.” He shook his head, breathless and in disbelief over your figure kneeling in front of him.

“Always? That’s a strong word,” you said, a smirk plastered on your lips. But you were curious. So when you pulled down Jake’s trousers and boxers, letting his dick out, you stopped to stare. Mind you, you’ve never seen a dick up close before. This was your first time, and his was majestic. “Define always, Jakey.” You licked your lips at the precum on his tip and kept yourself from leaning in to kiss it.

“Since I met you.” With the air hitting his length, he was growing impatient. He wanted your warm mouth wrapped around it as soon as possible, but you were obviously not going to indulge him until your curiosity was satiated. “I always thought you were cute when we were kids. And then we started high school, and you were beautiful. Remember that time I didn’t approach you at all and you thought Heeseung and Jay got to me? Yeah, I was just scared of talking to you… and then… I mean now… you’re—”

“Hot?” Your brow lifted, and Jake nodded, breathless.

“More than that. You’re ethereal, Y/N.”

“Damn, you really want this.” You giggled, but nothing stopped you from finally kissing Jake’s tip, listening to the pornographic moan that left his mouth at the slightest contact with your tongue. It urged you further, wrapping your mouth around him fully to test the waters and how well he fit in your mouth.

He tasted delicious.

This had to be Jake’s weakest moment. You barely touched him, and he already wanted to cum. But he knew the sight of you with your mouth full of his cum would make for a memory that would last him a lifetime.

You were testing yourself and your limits as you pushed his dick deeper into your throat until you could barely breathe, tears welling in your eyes. But it wasn’t enough, your hands would still have to do the rest. This was a learning experience for you, so after having a few more tastes of Jake, you pulled away to look up at him properly. To see his ruined expression as he still fought the confusion within him with pleasure.

“If I do anything wrong, please tell me,” you whispered, your hand moving to take Jake’s length, stroking a few times. “I’ve never done this before. So let me know, okay?”

Jake could barely speak as his eyes latched onto you, but he nodded regardless. He wanted to say you weren’t doing anything wrong nor were you going to. And he whimpered when he could feel the warmth of your mouth around him again. Though this time, you also incorporated your hand, moving in the same rhythm as your mouth to take care of whatever was too much for you.

“Oh, fuck, yes, Y/N,” Jake breathed out the longer you went on, saliva coating his dick and your fingers. He dug his nails into your hair, but didn’t push, letting you move freely. You didn’t even need him to tell you anything. “You’re perfect,” he managed between moans as he felt the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat.

His hips moved along with you, and Jake wanted to hold out for as long as possible to make the most of his pleasure and whatever the hell was going on right now.

Your free hand began playing with his balls, and that started to be too much for him. When you palmed him, he wanted to scream your name for the whole library to hear him, but he couldn’t do that. “I’m close, Y/N, holy fuck, just let me—” He wanted to finish outside your mouth just in case, but you didn’t let him go, staring up at him while your lips were still wrapped around his cock, going up and down.

There was silence as Jake interpreted your look. That you wanted to take him, taste all of him. And when he did cum, he had to bite his lip hard to contain himself while you swallowed every bit of his essence, having the most innocent look on your face while he pumped into you to ride out his high.

You concluded doing this was fun. You liked it. You loved the sounds that left Jake’s mouth, trying to be fairly quiet, and you loved the taste of him.

You didn’t expect Jake to drop down to his knees just to capture your lips with his again, tasting himself on your tongue. He cupped both your cheeks, pulling you as close to him as possible.

“I want you so bad, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his lips peppering your face with kisses. He went from your lips to your nose, your eyes, your cheeks, your chin and down, to your neck which (thank god) no longer had the marks of your encounter with Heeseung. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“You could show me, ah,” you moaned when Jake latched onto an especially sensitive spot, sucking on the skin.

“Not here, though,” Jake said, looking around. As stated before, your spot was hidden well, but the last thing Jake wanted to do right now was to debauch you in a corner of a library. No, for what he wanted to do, he needed a bed. “Let’s go to my house when my parents aren’t there.”

“And when will that be?” You grabbed at Jake’s T-shirt when his lips returned to yours.

“I’ll text you,” Jake replied in between kisses. You smiled.

Why hadn’t you thought of this before? Sim Jake was the most perfect of all the perfect candidates you could have to lose your virginity to.

Heeseung wasn’t stupid.

He saw the lingering glances between you and Jake every time you were in the room. He knew something happened between the two of you, and he did not like the idea of it, whatever it was. It was on purpose, when he said: “Anyone know what Y/N’s been up to lately?”

“No. Why?” Jay’s response was immediate, glaring at Heeseung. “Why do you even care?”

“It was just a question, dude. Miss Decelis is shit ass at reporting about her aside from that one vid of her with Yeonjun,” he said, shrugging. That memory still infuriated him.

“Dude, as far as we know, she’s still a virgin and it might be better for her to keep it that way.” Jay shook his head. He cringed at the mention of the local gossip, as she had recently been viciously attacking Jay’s character and pride for the past month.

Heeseung nodded, glancing in Jake’s direction. He was chewing on his bottom lip in thought, but if there was anything that action told Heeseung, it was that Jake had not slept with you.

Good.

“There’s no reason for you to care anyway.” Sunghoon raised a brow at him. “Unless you’re secretly in love with her or something.”

“Piss off.” Heeseung scoffed, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t in love with you. He just… thought of you often. And the night he almost had you if the other guys didn’t appear. In his mind, he was convinced that he could fuck thoughts of you out of his system (except none of those girls were you and he was acutely aware of that). It also led to way too many posts about him on Miss Decelis.

“See, I don’t get why you guys don’t like her so much. She’s nice.” Sunghoon shrugged.

“You’re also obliged to say that because your whole figure skating career is sponsored by her dad’s money,” Jay noted matter-of-factly. It was how you and Sunghoon knew each other even before he got into the Academy on a scholarship (upon a recommendation from your father).

Sunghoon made a face, sticking his tongue out at him. “Cry about it.”

“Why should I? You’re the one suffering,” Jay replied, but the insult to your person was half-hearted, an automatic response.

Neither Heeseung nor Jay were as opposed to you as before. It was a pointless fight regardless as it would be two on two. Though Jake hadn’t said a word yet. Instead, the boy’s focus was on his phone as he feverishly typed his heart away.

Heeseung glared at Jake in hopes of getting his attention, but the blond was too far in his own world, grinning at the screen like a maniac.

You.

He was texting you, Heeseung was more than sure of it, and he had half a mind to snatch the phone from Jake’s hands to (1) see what you two were talking about and (2) to block all your contacts from Jake’s accounts to make sure you couldn’t reach him. Because no sane man would smile so brightly at his phone over some stupid texts.

You had Jake wrapped around your little finger, and Heeseung didn’t know how to stop it from happening. You didn’t necessarily ignore Heeseung, but you definitely didn’t like him, and you really did not care about him pretending that he barely knew you. Not like you did before.

This version of you was so fucking annoying. Even more than before. Because not only could he not get you out of his head, but he knew his friends — and not only them — were all thinking the same. No matter how much Jay pretended, Heeseung noticed the way Jay would usually look around classrooms to make sure you were there and unharmed with a gentleness in his eye that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.

Heeseung could see the way Sunghoon’s eyes kept travelling to you, wanting to talk to you, but not finding the courage or the right words.

As for himself, Heeseung had a hard time dropping the image he had built over the years, so approaching you at school would make people talk, and at home, you wouldn’t even look his way despite visiting his family’s penthouse to see Jeonghyeon or whenever you two ran into each other in the building.

But Jake… it came naturally to him — talking to you. He had been talking to you since middle school, albeit trying to hide it from Heeseung and Jay. They knew anyway.

What was Heeseung going to do about you?

There used to be a time in your life when all you ever wished for was to be invisible. But you don’t anymore. Not when being visible meant people seeing you talk to Choi Yeonjun..

“So, you do know that Heeseung’s, like, obsessed with you, right?” Yeonjun questioned with a raised brow. “I’ve been hearing people talk, and someone said he threatened a guy for talking about you.”

“He’s just being an asshole,” you said plainly, rolling your eyes. “Something about hating the sound of my name around the corridors since he already hears it enough at home or whatever it was he used to say.”

“Nah.” Yeonjun shook his head with a smirk. “See, I know I was out of it but I do remember us almost fucking so excuse me if I do believe Heeseung was jealous,” the boy’s tone was so casual it made you chuckle. It did bring back the memories of Heeseung’s fingers inside you, though, so you shifted on your feet to keep your attention on Yeonjun.

“Okay. So maybe he was jealous. But it was really none of his business. You yourself called him the guy who’s been ignoring me my whole life.” You crossed your arms, pressing your lips in a thin line.

“Yeah but that’s usually what idiots like him do when they’re scared they might actually start liking you.” Yeonjun shrugged. “But anyway, to further prove my point—” he threw his arms up in the air, making several wild gestures to make sure his statement was emphasised enough— “Whoever that dude was, apparently he talked about dicking you down or some shit, and Heeseung didn’t like that.”

“Obviously he wouldn’t,” you said and shook your head. “We grew up together. He doesn’t want to hear stuff like that.”

“You gotta trust me on this, darling. Bro’s jealous as fuck.” Yeonjun nodded vigorously. “My intuition about these things is never wrong. Trust.”

“I think he’d have stopped Jake from talking to me by now if that was the case,” you thought out loud. You may have not lost your virginity just yet, but that didn’t mean you and Jake didn’t find moments alone where you would practise your skill with giving head, or him showing you how adept he was with his mouth and his fingers.

You never realised it was that good to have your pussy eaten out. Jake was always ready to devour you whole, pushing his tongue into you as deep as he was physically capable before using his fingers to satisfy you. And all of this just because he found out you were a virgin and wanted to make sure your first time would be meaningful.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Yeonjun chuckled, wiggling his brows suggestively. “I’m kinda hurt you didn’t ask me.”

You slapped Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I’m booked and busy, I fear. Next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that, darling.”

Good morning, Decelis!

I’ve been hearing rumours about Lee Heeseung threatening people over Y/N? What’s all this fuss about? Care to explain yourself, big guy?

XO, Miss Decelis

The video of Heeseung holding a boy’s collar, having pushed him against a wall should not have been so surprising to you. But it was hard to comprehend it. Heeseung had never been a violent type of guy. Usually, he would just have someone else do it for him. But the fact that it was over you?

Unthinkable.

One thing was to hear about it from Yeonjun, another was seeing it with your own two eyes, filmed and posted on social media.

“I called it! Your cousin is totally into our little Y/N,” Ning sang, holding onto her phone with the tweet open and playing while she looked at Jeonghyeon victoriously. “Always knew it…”

“That’s his problem.” Jeonghyeon rolled his eyes, bumping your shoulder with his. “He made sure to completely ruin his chances.”

“At least he’s hot, you know.” Ning shrugged. “It’s the genes or something,” she mumbled, watching Jeonghyeon smile at you, a single dimple adorning his cheeks.

“How are things with Jake going anyway?” he asked you.

“Dude,” you began, putting both your hands on the table for the dramatics. “He’s taking cooking classes for me. He said, and I quote ‘I want to make you dinner when you come over’ and I’ve been losing my mind over it since.”

“Holy shit, it’s that serious for him?” Jeonghyeon’s brow rose.

“Oh my gosh, dude’s in love with you already.” Ning giggled, excited for you. “He was really just holding it in this whole time huh?”

“To be fair, they always had a weird obsession with Y/N,” Jeonghyeon said matter-of-factly. “Even when they were being haters.”

“Jake never was,” you pointed out.

“Neither is Sunghoon,” Ning remarked. “He can’t hate her anyway. For reasons.” She shrugged, and you threw her a nasty eye.

“Obviously I’m only talking about Heeseung and Jay.” Jeonghyeon let out a frustrated sigh, glancing between you and Ning.

“That was not obvious at all,” Ning said.

“Yeah. What she said.”

“I— whatever.” Jeonghyeon ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey guys, what are you talking about?” Jake appeared at your side, sitting down on the bench that you were already sharing with Jeonghyeon. Smiling up at you, he nudged you with his shoulder.

“Oh, you know, the regular stuff,” Ning said, waving her hand. “Heeseung and Jay’s unhealthy obsession with Y/N and all that.” She did not care about who she was talking to in the slightest, grinning when she saw Jake’s discomfited look.

“What?” Jake tilted his head, and Ning raised her arms in defence.

“Don’t kill the messenger, please, Jeonghyeon brought it up first.”

Jeonghyeon glared at her. “I’m just saying that I’ve heard the two of them speak about Y/N more often than is necessary for two people who dislike her. That’s all,” he explained, having first-hand experience from living with Heeseung.

Jake blinked slowly before nodding. “I get what you mean,” he agreed, pursing his lips. “Remember when you first introduced Sunghoon to us?” The blond turned to you, waiting for your nod to continue speaking. “Heeseung and Jay literally pulled up a whole set of rules regarding you and how to act around you.”

“Huh?” You, Jeonghyeon and Ning chorused. None of you knew that.

“He didn’t go along with it, though. Sunghoon.” Jake clicked his tongue and shook his head. “But anyways, that’s not why I came here, actually. I wanted to ask if you wanna join me in the library to look over something I’ve been working on.” Looking at you expectantly, there wasn’t much for you to do but to say yes.

You thought it was code for a makeout session, but it turned out that Jake genuinely wanted to show you something.

“Look! I learned how to make cookies,” he spoke excitedly, showing you the box full of chocolate chip cookies with the largest grin on his lips, proud of himself and his creation. It looked and smelled delicious. “Give it a try, please. I’m still figuring out what to make for our day together this weekend.”

The warmth in your chest was an unexpected intruder, but you couldn’t stop the swelling in your heart caused by Jake’s sweetness. It made you even more angry with Heeseung about missing out on all this simply because Jake had a hard time defying the slightly older guys.

So you picked one and bit into it without hesitation, humming when the sweet taste hit your tongue, the cookie practically melting in your mouth. “Oh wow, holy shit, it’s so good,” you said, taking another bite.

Jake’s cheeks reddened, his smile growing. He tried to drive away his thoughts from wondering whether you would have a similar reaction to his cock inside of you. Totally inappropriate thoughts to have while he was trying to be wholesome. “I had some help from my friend Felix, though. I’m really glad you like them.”

“I don’t just like them, Jake. I love them. Holy fuck, I could eat these forever.” You were already reaching for another cookie, which made Jake laugh softly at how adorable you looked.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and you giggled, finishing a bite of his homemade cookies.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, leaning in.

It completely slipped your mind that you were not at your secret place in the library, but a very public part of it.

Good morning, Decelis! I’m officially not bored anymore.

We have Lee Heeseung fighting guys for stepping out of line when speaking about Y/N, and now this? Sim Jake, one of Heeseung’s best friends, was spotted kissing her in the library! Scandalous.

I love it.

XO, Miss Decelis

Sim Jake liked to think he was a confident guy. But suddenly, he couldn’t stop sweating. He had to constantly wipe his hands on his sweatpants when he prepared the table for you, and he worried that you might not like what he cooked. Though the meal was simple. He made ramen with grilled pork belly and a spicy sauce to go along with it because you had mentioned liking it when food had a little kick to it. So he made a sauce by mixing gochujang, soy sauce, gochugaru, a bit of sugar and lemon juice.

Even after two whole cooking lessons from a chef his parents liked, Jake still felt a little lost. But! The kitchen did not burn down, so he deemed it a huge success.

He wanted this day to be perfect for you.

He wasn’t sure why he cared so much, but he just abhorred the idea of you losing your virginity in some random person’s bedroom at a party, or even in the library or an empty classroom where sitting atop a table or a drawer or a bookshelf wasn’t entirely comfortable. Maybe after your first time, but not now.

You deserved better.

When you arrived, your dress was not casual. It was a satin slip-on that entirely revealed your back and wrapped around your neck with a thin strap to hold the fabric over your breasts. You weren’t wearing a bra, and your nipples were visible through the thin fabric, already making Jake wish he could wrap his lips around them.

He didn’t even have enough space in his mind to think about the fact he was severely underdressed in his grey sweatpants and white T-shirt. You didn’t care, though, because all you saw was Jake’s pretty face and your surroundings — the house he grew up in.

It was very light and nowhere near the minimalistic bullshit your parents liked to pull. Instead, the walls of the hallway were lined in photo frames. Pictures of Jake, of his dog Layla, his childhood drawings as well as diplomas from competitions he had won before. It was basically Jake’s hall of fame.

“Please, just ignore it. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jake said, biting his lip. “My parents are gone for the weekend, and Layla should be napping outside at the moment, so the house is all ours.”

“Sounds good.” You smiled, anticipation coursing through your whole body.

This was it. The big day.

With Sim Jake, who you were starting to care about more than you thought you would. But, figuratively speaking, despite your recent descent into the darkness, you were inexplicably drawn to his light.

He led you to the dining room which had the whole table set up for two with candles and a flower vase in the middle, a pot of ramen and a plate with grilled pork belly to be shared between you.

“Jake, this is—”

“I know it might seem a bit excessive, but I really want this to be special for you,” the blond said, running a hand through his hair while chewing on his bottom lip. You grabbed his hand in yours and smiled brightly.

“It’s stunning, Jake. Thank you for all this,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure it’s going to be really good as well.”

Jake nodded. He pulled out a chair for you to sit on before seating himself next to you, and neither of you hesitated to dig into the food. As hungry as you were, the empty feeling in your stomach was not due to the lack of food in it.

Watching Jake grab the first piece of pork belly and dip it in the red sauce, you did not expect him to offer it to you, but your eyes softened and you accepted the piece into your mouth. The meat was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, and the sauce had a spicy kick to it with sweetness and a citrusy taste spreading on your tongue. You hummed, closing your eyes to savour the taste.

It was almost unreal. This whole scene of you and Jake eating and talking casually, knowing what was to come. He was such a good cook it drove you insane. And you’d eaten at the best rated restaurants in the country before.

“Thank you, Jake,” you said after the meal was over, and without thinking much about your next actions, you planted your lips onto his, wrapping your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He kissed you back eagerly, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before biting on it, drawing a whimper out of you. You let him take the lead, putting his hands on your waist to bring you closer. Your whole body felt warm under his touch. His hands slid down your body to your bare thighs, and then underneath your dress to harshly grasp your ass. You gasped in surprise, and Jake smirked into the kiss, pulling away from you.

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he whispered into your ear, his voice a low groan, and the heat that pooled from your stomach to your crotch was nearly unbearable. Jake chuckled when you kept shifting in place in hopes of getting some friction.

What you didn’t expect was Jake lifting you up to carry you bridal style. You yelped, your eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you, obviously,” he said nonchalantly, and you dared not fight him as he walked towards his bedroom, wherever it was because your mouth latched onto his neck, sucking on the soft skin. You enjoyed the little moans that left his mouth alongside his heavy breaths because he was clearly struggling by the end of the journey.

He never dropped you, though. Not until the only thing you could fall on was his overly expensive mattress with him on top of you. Jake didn’t stay away for long, already ridding himself of his T-shirt to straddle your lap.

He leant down to kiss you, and your hands automatically began roaming the plane of his flat stomach. He had to be working out, at least the tiniest bit. But those thoughts did not matter when Jake’s hands slid under your dress to firmly grip your thighs as he kissed his way down your body. He bit one of your nipples through the dress, and you let out a shaky moan, your hands holding onto any part of Jake.

You wanted to feel his mouth on your bare skin, but he had yet to let you take the dress off. Instead, he hooked his fingers on your lace panties and ripped them off without a single care in the world. (It was your favourite Victoria’s Secret piece.) “I’ll get you new ones, I promise,” he murmured when he looked up at you with his deep brown eyes.

He lifted your dress to reveal your pussy, his mouth latching onto the skin on the inside of your thighs, biting and sucking to tease you, knowing you wanted his lips somewhere else. But there was a devilish glint in his eye as he slowly progressed to the main course. His gaze never left yours, and you gripped the sheets of his bed tightly, preparing yourself for what was to come.

“Just say the magic words, baby, and you can have it all,” he said, sensing your anticipation and the oncoming frustration.

“Please, Jake,” you whispered.

It was enough for his hot mouth to finally come in contact with your wet cunt, his tongue slowly circling your clit. You moaned, a wave of pleasure coursing through you, and Jake hummed at your taste, enjoying every little bit of it, sucking it in.

The sounds that left your pretty mouth were worth more than stars in the sky and enough to make Jake absolutely hard. He enjoyed the sweet taste of you as he tongue-fucked you, keeping your thighs apart to heighten every bit of pleasure you were getting out of this. Your back arched against his mouth, and he kept eating like a man starved, convinced that he would never get tired of you. Of this feeling of your pussy against his mouth, his fingers.

He waited so long to finally know what it would feel like to take you. But he had to make sure everything would be proper for you. That your first time would be so unforgettable he would ruin every other man for you. All of this was his selfish quest to have you for himself only.

And he knew half of his job was done when you came into his mouth, screaming his name and gripping his sheets. For now, he was the only man who knew what this was like. What it felt like to have you scream their name and fall apart for them.

He went in for a kiss afterward, which you reciprocated, tasting yourself. Smiling, he was already reaching into his drawer to pull out a single condom, to make this a safe experience for you. And you let him pull away from you to sit down at the edge of the bed.

It gave you an opportunity to finally take off the dress that was beginning to suffocate you, watching Jake shuffle out of his sweatpants, his cock springing out, looking as beautiful as ever. And you’d finally feel it inside you.

You never saw a man put a condom on before. Your gaze was a bit too intense, but Jake wasn’t bothered by it, grinning at you instead once he was done, noticing that your dress was off. His lips fell apart and his eyes widened as he drank in your bare figure and boobs. You were unreal. Perfect. And waiting for him.

You laid back down on the bed, your head hitting the satin pillows, and you invited Jake in with a soft smile, wiggling your index finger to beckon him over.

You didn’t have to ask twice before he was on top of you again, his eyes never leaving yours. “Make me yours, Jake,” you said, and he thought he might not be able to handle you after all. You bit your lip and moved your hands to his cock, to guide him to your heat as if it was his first time and not yours.

He hated how big of an effect you truly had on him. But he listened, he agreed. He wanted you to be his. So badly.

So he finally made the first push inside you, watching your face the entire time. You chewed on your lip as he slowly went deeper, holding in his own moan at your tightness. You felt so good around him. He could stay like this forever. But this wasn’t about him, and he kept checking on you.

“Is this okay?” Jake asked once his entire cock was buried inside of you, waiting for your body to adjust to him. You only managed to nod, your body moving closer to him. Placing his hands on your hips, he set a slow pace at first.

You whimpered, gripping onto his shoulders with enough strength for your nails to leave dents, but Jake didn’t mind.

Your brain was hazy from the slow movements. The pleasure was incomparable, tinged with the tiniest bit of pain as Jake’s dick moved in and out of your pussy. But the more comfortable it became for you, the less satisfied you were. “Jake,” you said in between moans, bringing his upper body closer to you. “Faster, please.”

It was a command that brought out something in Jake. Hearing you ask him to go faster did something to his brain chemistry, doing exactly what you asked for. His pace quickened, his pelvis hitting your clit relentlessly. It drove you insane how good it felt to have Jake inside of you, to share this moment with him.

A cacophony of skin against skin mixed with your moans echoed through the room. Jake couldn’t stop looking at you, examining every little change in your expression for any kind of discomfort when his movements became harsher, but the pleasure blinding you and your senses was far too intense for you to think of anything else. “You’re taking it like a good girl,” Jake murmured against the skin of your shoulder, and he almost lost his mind when your walls clenched around his dick.

“I think— god, Jake,” you cried out as he continued to repetitively hit the right spot. You clung onto his body like a leech. “I’m— I’m close.”

Jake’s pace remained the same, but he added his thumb, circling your clit to help your release, which came not long after, with you chanting Jake’s name like a spell meant to entrap him with you forever.

He cummed after a few more thrusts with your cunt so deliciously tight around him from the orgasm you were riding off. He planted his lips on yours when it happened, flipping the two of you over so you could be on top of him.

He wanted to sear the sight into his mind, your hair sticking to your sweat-covered face, messy from the pillows, and your lips swollen from how much you bit them.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” Jake let his orgasm-clouded brain run his mouth, and you smiled at him so brightly that it made him think the whole room lit up. But it was just you, really. And the fact that Jake was incredibly fucked up in the head because his heart could not stop beating in his ears.

And this was just the beginning.

Good morning, Decelis! A little birdie has shared something very interesting with me recently. Something that involves a certain princess and our resident Mr. Can’t-Live-A-Day-Without-Getting-My-Dick-Wet.

Oh yes, you’re reading that right. It seems that someone has spotted Y/N with Lee Heeseung doing some filthy things in the back of a car. How cute.

I wonder how old that photo is?

XO, Miss Decelis

tags! @strxwbloody @starsenha @mitmit01 @chaconadine

[flowerxbunnie]

can you pls pls write about shy reader she and chris are a recent couple and one day he founds out that she likes dirty talk and tries that with her

Dirty Secret

Chris x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUTTYYY smut, lots of dirty talk, degradation/praise

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

Tags: @lustfulslxt

Chris’s POV

I can’t wipe the dumb smile off my face as I peek at Y/n’s nightstand, multiple tubes of chapstick covering the surface along with notebooks, pens, scrunchies, and lots of half empty water bottles. Her personality shows in her room so clearly, methodic but carefree.

These past four months have made me nothing but happy. We’ve done a good job at keeping our relationship out of the public eye after agreeing she didn’t want to handle any kickback from my fans yet. I hate that I can’t show her off, but it’s for the best, at least at this point.

I roam around her room with no ultimate goal, just waiting for her to get back from her nail appointment and I got bored. I scan her makeup table, brushes and random products strewn about as evidence that she’d been here hours before. Her jackets and hats hang on a hook behind her door and I run my fingers across the different fabrics, moving closer to inhale the vanilla scent that floods my mind with images of her. Fairly lights twinkle above her bed, something I’ve definitely taken notice of during all our nights tangled in her sheets.

I move to her bookshelf and look at all the spines of her books, some neatly lined up and some thrown haphazardly into piles. There’s collectible figures of the things she likes, crystals, and random little trinkets littering the shelves. I can’t help but reach out and touch the book that’s lying on the shelf at my eye level, running my fingers along all the multicolored sticky notes she’s placed into her favorite pages.

I guess it was a little too close to the edge, because even my light touch caused it to topple over and fall open, landing face down on the carpet below. I breathe out a curse and lean down to pick it up and put it exactly how I found it. I don’t want Y/n to think I’ve been snooping, because I haven’t. I’m just admiring all the little things that make her room feel like home to her.

I close the book and bring it back up to the shelf, turning it around to glance at the cover. Priest by Sierra Simone. I know a lot about Y/n already, but I didn’t know she was into religion. Sounds like a biography from the summary on the back. Something about a priest breaking their vow of celibacy and needing to confess. My interest is growing, I didn’t think she would enjoy this kind of book, maybe I should take a peek?

I pick the first sticky note my fingers brush across, knowing Y/n highlighted it for a reason. An audible gasp falls out of my mouth as a skim across the words on the page.

“Stay the fuck still, or I’m going to come before I want to, and if that happens, then I will take you over my knee and spank your ass until you learn how to listen.”

“What the fuck?” I question out loud.

I flip through multiple pages, each sticky note highlighting incredibly filthy words. It’s a fucking sex book. My cheeks burn at the thought of her reading these while she’s alone in her room, wondering what she looks like as she’s turning the pages and writhing with anticipation. I grab onto a pink sticky note and pull on it, flipping it to the page and reading what she had highlighted.

“But I won’t lie. It makes me hard as fuck knowing that I was the first man to taste you.”

This sticky note has her own handwriting smeared across it. I squint to make out the words.

If Chris would have said that to me…

Ouch, I think?

I’m not a vanilla guy by any means, but I’m not the weird fuck from 50 Shades of Grey either. I think our sex life is great, it’s more than enough to keep me satisfied. We’ve made love in the car, fucked while she was bent over her dining room table, stolen kisses in restaurant bathrooms after we snuck away from our friends. It’s all been so exciting to me, and even better because it’s with her.

I continue flying through the pages, my eyes widening at every line she made a point to come back to. This dude talks so much while he’s fucking this chick.

“No, don’t touch yourself, sweetheart. We’re going to get there together.”

Remind Chris to be more vocal!

It all clicks in my bird brain. I’m a fucking idiot. She’s highlighted almost all dialogue. She wants me to talk more during sex. I’ll admit, I’m not the best at speaking my mind while she’s bouncing on me or sprawled out below me. But why hasn’t she told me yet? I hope she hasn’t been disappointed with how things have been going.

I put the book back and angle it as best as I can remember, moving to lay down on top of her comforter. I stretch my back out and throw my arms behind my head, thinking about what I’m going to do when she gets home.

Y/n’s POV

I take my keys out of the door and lock it behind me, smiling as I see Chris’s sneakers sitting on the shoe rack in my entryway. My nails took way longer than I expected and I’m just so excited to be able to waste the rest of my day away with him. I make my way down the hall after placing my shoes next to his and creep into my bedroom, sprinting and jumping to lay beside Chris who’s stretched across my bed.

“Hiiii baby, I missed youuu!” I singsong before pressing a kiss against his stubbly cheek.

“Mmm, missed you more.” he mumbles into my neck as he turns and molds his body into mine.

His arms encircle me and the smell of his cologne floods my senses, washing a wave of comfort over me. I could lay like this forever.

“Let’s see the nails,” he says as he breaks away from me, suddenly sitting up and grabbing my hands.

I sit up beside him and watch as his large hands hold my own, moving my fingers around and watching the duo chrome polish shift colors in the light. His smile spreads from ear to ear as he takes notice of the “C” I asked the nail tech to paint onto my ring finger.

“Aren’t they so cute??” I squeal, so ecstatic at the way they turned out.

“So cute,” he coos, bringing them to his lips to place a tender kiss on each finger. “I think they’d look even cuter wrapped around my cock.” He says in a low growl as he brings my hand down to his lap, shoving my palm onto the fabric of his sweatpants.

I feel his erection through the layers of clothing, rock hard and throbbing. I can’t help but gasp at his words, I’ve never heard him speak like this before. I watch as his pupils dilate, the black overtaking the blue of his iris as he flickers his eyes to my lips.

“Nothing to say, sweetheart?” He asks almost in a belittling tone.

“N-no I just.. I’ve never heard you say something like that,” I squeak out as he pushes my hand down with more force.

“What, you don’t like it?” He says with a smirk.

“I don’t know.. I th-think so..” I stammer.

“When were you gonna tell me, hm? Such an innocent girl reading such filthy books. Does it turn you on?” His hand leaves mine against his hard on and comes up to caress my cheek.

“Huh, what are you talking about?” I spit out at him, my cheeks igniting red with visible embarrassment.

Has he snooped through my room?

“I saw it all, baby. And it’s okay. It’s okay if you need me to tell you how dirty of a girl you are, or how good you make me feel. You have to let me know these things..” he trails off as his thumb brushes against my lip, smearing my peppermint chapstick onto the corner of my mouth.

“I-I’m sorry, Chris. I don’t… I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I was weird.” I look down, intimidated by his cold gaze, and he tilts my head back up, his eyes serious.

“It’s not weird. Do you touch yourself to those books baby? Reading about a man talking to a woman like that.. does it make you feel good?” He whispers the last sentence and his free hand finds my inner thigh, caressing and warming my skin.

I nod sheepishly, afraid to speak my thoughts out loud to Chris.

“Use your words. Do you ever imagine it’s me saying those things?”

“Y-yes… every single time.” I say as I release a breath.

He groans and pushes my hair behind my ear, inching closer to me and ghosting his lips over my ear. “Such a naughty girl.”

Shivers fall down my spine as he places a kiss onto the sensitive skin between my ear and jaw, his lips lingering and sucking lightly. He slides the hand on my cheek to the back of my neck, lacing his fingers into my hair and pulling down, my neck exposed to him.

“Look at the way your body reacts to me.” He whispers, placing a finger onto my jugular, and I feel it pulsing mercilessly beneath his touch.

He moves his hand to grip around my throat, his thumb and fingers pressed firmly against both pulse points of my neck. My head begins to tingle, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. His lips pepper wet kisses along my jaw, every one of them seeping into my skin and heightened from the constricted blood flow.

“You like that, my hand around your throat? I could squeeze as hard as I want.” he says before constricting his grip.

My core begins to throb hearing his inner thoughts spill from his mouth. My field of vision starts to shrink, a black vignette closing in.

“I’d never hurt you like that, sweetheart. But don’t you like the risk?” He suddenly releases his hold on my throat and all my blood rushes back up into my head. I’m dizzy and completely aroused for him.

I nod furiously before his lips crash against mine, low growls seeping out of his throat and being released into my mouth. He bites and tugs at my bottom lip before pulling away and licking a hot stripe up my chin and back up to my mouth. His lips meet mine again, his mouth open and begging for my tongue. I push it into his mouth only to be dominated, not standing a chance as his hunger grows.

Chris’s hands latch onto my hips, lifting me off the mattress and into his lap, his erection poking at my core. He breaks the kiss and grabs the hem of my shirt, sliding his hands up along with the fabric. I help him get it off, discarding it somewhere in my room. His eyes burn holes into my chest, examining the bralette covering the skin. He grabs the bottom and slides it up, my breasts bouncing as they fall out in front of him. He pushes the excess fabric up to rest on the plate of my chest.

“Fuck, Y/n. If I died with my face in your tits I’d be happy.”

He begins ravaging my breasts, nipping and licking and leaving red and purple marks across the skin. He sucks my nipples while looking so deep into my eyes I start to think he can see the back of my skull. The line of pain and pleasure is completely blurred when he takes one of my swollen nipples between his teeth and tugs on it.

“F-fuck, Chris..” I cry out, bucking my hips instinctively and pressing down onto his throbbing dick.

He lets out a deep moan, gripping my waist and prompting me to stop my movements. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

I let out a little grin and begin to rock back and forth again, his head falling against the headboard with his eyes squeezed shut. His cock rubs against my clit through the multiple layers of clothing, but the pressure and friction still causes both of us to pant and moan in unison. He brings his head back up and grips my hips tighter this time, my body unable to move.

“Such a dirty girl. Can’t listen to simple instructions.”

He removes his shirt, a layer of sweat starting to form on his skin, then brings my bra over my head, not bothering with the clasp. He throws it across the room and then lifts my legs to remove my shorts before lifting me up and sliding his sweatpants off, all of which meet the same fate as the rest of the discarded clothes. He presses a hand against my chest, my back hitting the bed as he pushes me down. He comes to hover over me, his eyes dark and half lidded. His knee is pressed inbetween my thighs touching my core with a teasing amount of pressure.

“You’ve already made such a mess, baby..” he says with false concern, referring to the wetness that has seeped through my panties and is touching his skin.

“I’m s-sorry..” I whine, fighting the urge to grind against his knee.

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. I’ll help you out.”

Chris trails kisses down my chest and stomach, randomly sucking marks into my skin on the way down. He circles his tongue around my navel before licking across it, a trace amount of his warm saliva dripping in. He traces his tongue along the lace hem of my panties, his breath burning against my skin as he grips it with his teeth.

“Please, Chris..” I whine and push him closer to the place I need him most.

His eyes show his grin as he dips his face down, flattening his tongue across the fabric covering my core. He licks and sucks at it, humming and closing his eyes as he spreads my legs apart.

“So sweet,” He whispers as he flicks his tongue up and down.

He hooks his fingers into the band of my panties and pulls, his mouth only disconnecting for a brief second to slide them down my legs before his tongue finally connects with my bare pussy. I arch my back off the bed and cry out as his tongue works against my heat. I’m a mess under him- gripping the sheets, tugging on his brown waves, grabbing my own breasts, doing whatever I can to release some of the tension building up in my body.

“You like the way my tongue feels on you, princess?” He asks in a raspy voice as he wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yes.. fuck please keep going..” I pant, not wanting to lose momentum as my climax has started inching its way to the top.

“How about you do what you need? Use my face and get yourself off.”

He leans back down and presses his tongue against me, holding still as he keeps eye contact. I start circling my hips, feeling the way his tongue remains in place as I grind against it. I grip onto his face and pull it closer, moving my hips down so his nose rubs my clit and his tongue rubs up and down my folds. I buck up and down in complete control and he hums against me to the point I feel like my intestines are vibrating. I speed up and increase the pressure as my stomach begins to ache with a familiar feeling.

I nearly scream, tensing up as my body burns through my climax. He remains still just letting me use him as I ride through it and come down, my grip on his hair relaxing and my body falling slack on the bed.

“Taste yourself baby. Let me show you what you did, all for me.” He whispers against my lips after he climbs to hover over me.

I’m still trying to catch my breath as his lips collide onto mine. I taste my own juices on his tongue, sweet and tangy. He presses his hips down onto my stomach and reminds me of his need, humping forward a few times and moaning into my mouth.

“Now are you gonna bend over or just sit there and look pretty?” He growls as he swiftly stands up and pulls his boxers down.

His pink tip is swollen and leaking precum. His grips his hand around his base and squeezes until his knuckles turn white, his head falling back out of pleasure or maybe the throbbing pain, there’s no way to tell. His eyes lock onto mine and he starts pumping up and down on his dick, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

I pull myself to my feet as quick as I can and limp to the end of the bed, my legs like jelly after tensing up so hard.

“That’s cute. Can’t wait to carry you to the shower after this one.” he smirks and licks his lips.

My breath hitches as I turn around and bend over the footboard of the bed. His hands run up and down my ass, jiggling it before giving me a light smack with both hands. I gasp, jumping forward and my ribs hit the wood I’m bent over.

“So fucking hot, can’t believe this is all mine,” he coos, running his fingers down my folds before wiping my juices onto my lower back.

I feel his head against my clit, slick with warm precum. He soaks himself in my juices as he swipes it across my entrance, barely dipping in as he grips my hip with one hand.

“Chris.. oh my god. P-please just fuck me.” I whine, my legs already shaking and twitching.

“Mmm I plan on it, baby.” he whispers before slowly pushing forward.

He slowly gives me inch by delicious inch, my walls stretching around his thickness as we moan out together. He starts slow and stays deep inside me, barely pumping in and out. He runs his hands up and down my spine as he rocks into me, his breathing slow and controlled. My pussy clenches around him as his tip brushes repeatedly over a sensitive spot.

“P-please Chris go faster,” I draw out in a moan.

He listens. His thrusts become rough and rapid, my ribs slamming against the wood with each stroke but my brain seems to tune it out. He keeps his grip on my waist with one hand and reaches around to my face with the other, shoving two fingers in my mouth. I suck on them hard, swirling and lapping my tongue around them.

“Such a fucking slut, so willing to have all your holes filled, aren’t you?” He pants as he hooks his fingers onto the corner of my mouth and pulls back.

“Nhgnh.. fuck..” is all I can manage through his manipulation of my mouth.

“What? Am I fucking you dumb? Can’t even get your words out.”

I moan in response and feel my pussy throbbing around him, my lower abdomen on fire as I climb to my next release.

“S-so close..” I mumble as drool drips down my chin.

He lets go of my mouth and grips my waist, his thumbs pressing into the dimples on my back.

“You need me to cum in you, don’t you? I know you wanna be filled up, so full your eyes start to float.” He pumps as deep as he can go, my eyes rolling back into my head and words failing to form. “Answer me.” He spits with a smack on my ass.

“Please… p-please cum in me. Need it.. s-so bad Chris!”

With that he shoves his hips against me and shoots his hot load into my pussy, coating my walls as I fall over the edge with him. I’m screaming his name as he moans mine, pure ecstasy echoing through my room. I feel his cum leaking down my legs, such a big load that it has nowhere else to go. His thrusts slow down before they come to a halt, his dick still twitching inside me.

He pulls out and hums as he backs up and takes in the sight in front of him. I have no energy to stand, my muscles aching and tired.

“Look at that. God I wish I could burn this into my brain.”

He walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my torso and lifts me, my legs helping very little to hold me up. He hooks an arm under my thighs and picks me up to hold me bridal style. I’m so tired that my head can only manage to flop against his chest, and I hear his rapid heartbeat in my ear.

He starts to walk towards my bathroom but first places a lingering kiss on my forehead. I can feel the smile on his lips.

“Told you I’d have to carry you to the shower.”