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mphountitled · 6 months

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𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence.

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy.

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you.

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant.

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle.

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it."

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics.

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?"

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things.

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine." His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back,

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient.

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink.

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long?

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence.

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist.

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately.

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling.

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards.

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth.

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his.

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-"

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

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method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 4.1k

*can you guess what film it's based off of? i practically laid the answer out in front of you guys lol

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six ch. six

Chapter 3

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

The Spaniard shifts uncomfortably before taking a step back. You had read all about him - of course you had - but how were you supposed to know he would be here? For sure you were drooling by how in shock you were, but you couldn’t find the strength to pick your jaw off the floor.

And then it got worse.

“Carlos, you won’t believe what I just saw! A Stormtrooper just got slapped by some ballerina! I mean he was kind of asking for it - he grabbed her and she just…” He mimics a dramatic strike as Carlos chuckles. “Best night of my life.”

The brown eyed man quirks a dark brow towards the lousy looking Super Mario. “This is my friend, Lando.” He leans closer to your ear. “He’s not normal.”

“Hey,” the Brit warns as he fixes his overalls, then blushes. “I-It was such short notice.”

Bewildered, you let out soft pants as you pat your chest over and over. The two men share a concerned look. “Are you feeling okay?” Would it be the worst thing in the world to bolt out the door and fly back home? Eyeing the entrance, you contemplate it for a bit but then you hear the familiar accent.

“She's yeigh high, won’t stop talking even if you beg her to…”

“I’m fine!” The pair flinch at the sudden burst. “I’m just going to pop out and take a breather.”

“There you are.” Your stomach drops. Charles raises his brows in a curious manner at the back heads of Carlos and Lando as you weigh your options. You can deal with this - pretend none of this was actually happening. But instead you do what you do best.

“Where are you-”

Pushing past the crowd, you make your way out the door. Once you take a step outside, you look both ways before shaking your head and running down the street. You receive weird looks, but don’t bother to care. There wasn’t an exact destination in mind, but anything was better than dealing with whatever that was.

Loud footsteps make your spine tingle with uneasiness as you turn around. And this has to be some sort of nightmare because a Stormtrooper, heist man, and Super Mario chase after you. You sprint faster, often taking glances back as Charles tries to catch his breath.

“Where the fuck are you going? Are you crazy?” he shouts as Carlos and Lando stop, immediately recognizing his voice. You stop dead in your tracks as Charles inches closer. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he shakes you harshly. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t just run off like that!”

“I-I…” You spot the two friends as they mutter at each other, walking closer. Feverishly, you shake your head, headache coming in strong. “I needed air-”

Cold eyes narrow down like knives. “That’s fine, but couldn’t you have gone through a more sane route?” You’re a blubbering mess, jumbling out non-existing words as the Monegasque wrestles to decipher them all.

That sounds just like Leclerc, or am I going insane? Lando murmurs as Carlos nods silently. Kind of, but we should help her. What if he’s just some creep?

The duo are about to reach you and your roommate when you land on what seems like the worst idea, but reluctantly, saves you. Tippy toeing, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck before pressing your lips onto his. He stiffens.

“Oh umm…so…they’re not strangers.”

The Spaniard’ eyes grow wide. “Definitely not. We should probably leave them alone.”

Making their way back to the party, you sigh with relief against the brunette’s pink lips as you relax your feet down onto the pavement. But this only leads to the green eyed boy to angle himself lower and continue the kiss. Pushing him back sharply, you shriek.

“No!”

He jumps with high alert. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

Rosy cheeks flush furthermore as you rub your eyes harshly. “This…this is wrong.” A beat. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The Monegasque lets out a small laugh before running a large hand against his stubble. “But I thought-”

“I know,” you chant. “But it wasn’t the right thing to do. I got lost in the moment and that’s my fault, but we’re friends, Charles. That was…weird.”

His heart stops from your sudden burst. Bruised is an understatement. He won’t say he has a crush - God, it’s only been a couple of days of knowing you - but it would be an outright lie if he said a kiss hadn’t crossed his mind. But did you have to be so unfazed by it all?

A raw cough rings through the air, only soft music being heard as you two awkwardly stare at each other. “It was kind of weird.” A forced chuckle makes its way up your throat as you rub your arm. “I also got lost in the gist of it all, don’t feel too bad.”

“We’re good then?”

He nods, lips stretched out into a knowing smile. “Yes.”

You whistle. “Thank God. I wouldn’t want things to get…”

“Me too.” He winks teasingly. “Just answer me one thing; Was I any good?”

Unable to keep eye contact, you softly smack his suit. “What are you tal- I was.” He wiggles his dark brows. Stop lying. You gape at him. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” He chuckles.

“Do you want to go back, or?”

“Or.”

Unlocking the door, the Monegasque steps aside as you thank him, brushing past his tall figure and making your way onto the couch. “I don’t think I could ever party again. Might just have to accept my fate.”

The white cloud plunges down as he takes a seat next to your tired state. “Which is?”

“That I’m old.” You sit up straight as you point an accusing finger up at him. He tilts his head. “Correction - we’re both old.”

A hand slaps your mouth shut as you squeal against it. “I think it might just be you.” Yoomphtoofth, you muffle as you try to wiggle free from his strong grip. “Let me know if you disagree.”

Licking his hand, he yelps as he pulls away, immediately drying himself against your tutu. You smirk. “Asshole.” He narrows his eyes. Shrugging him off, you curl your legs up to your chest. “Truce?” Glaring at your hand, he questions it for a second before hesitantly shaking it. Tugging it towards your mouth, he lets out a high pitched squeak as you lick it.

“You’re a heathen,” he shrieks as you throw your head back laughing. Relax. You’ve already kissed me. “You kissed me, let's not forget.” You blush. Suddenly I’m feeling very tired. Off to bed I go.

Staring with slight amusement, he waves you off. When you come to a halt, sleepy eyes reconnect with yours. “I know you said it’s fine for me to keep the bed and you the couch, but I’m willing to share now that I trust you.”

A playful scoff escapes. “I’m flattered.” You stick your tongue out, aiming your ballet shoe at him. He dodges it before comedically scowling. “It’s fine, you can keep it. Hopefully it helps tend to your nasty attitude. You should seriously get that checked out.”

You huff, foot stopping against the wooden tiles. “And I’m sure you’re getting a hump back, so by all means stay in your microscopic couch.” Green eyes bulge out with worry as he runs into the room.

“On second thought, I think we should share!”

So he’s a cuddler. You learn so very quickly when he instinctively drapes his hand over your belly. You try to wrestle free for a while before you realize how nice it feels. A few seconds tick by before you drift off to sleep.

The strong beams that slither past the curtains are enough to shake the Monegasque awake. Groaning, he squints his eyes as he analyzes his surroundings. It takes a second for him to register how close you are, and even worse, how his arm lays over your delicate figure.

Flinging it away, he scoots back. You toss and turn for a while before you lazily rub your eyes. Was there an earthquake? Charles opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. You raise an expectant brow. T’was my imagination? “Must have been,” he croaks, a raspy voice bouncing off the walls. “How about some breakfast?”

After a strong counter argument on your behalf, he eventually complies and strolls out the door, set to get some breakfast for you both. It should have been for the best to tidy up the bed, clean up a bit.

Definitely not hunt for a small journal.

Guilt resurfaces as you open the side drawer, finding it empty. What were you doing? Charles has been nothing but good to you - he was someone you considered your friend. Maybe it was for the best, it was a bit too invasive.

Your tummy grumbles as you glare at the clock, time slowly passing by and still no sign of the Monegasque. Dragging your feet to the living room, you shamelessly plop onto the couch when you spot an oddly familiar item. The brown diary.

You can feel the way your eyes sparkled with merriment as a delirious laugh ringed past your dry lips. It had been dug between the pillows begging to be let out. To be skimmed through. Analyzed. Soft fingers trace the front cover as your breath hitches.

This doesn’t have to happen. You didn’t have to do any of this. You could be honest, admit what you’re doing, that you know who he is and how that would change nothing between you two, and that you needed this. He would understand. But the thin pages were luring you in by every passing second he doesn’t walk past that door. A tiny peek won’t hurt.

You can’t tell how much time has passed, but the moment you hear keys jingling, you hurriedly stash it back in its original hiding spot and rush over to the terrace overlooking Amalfi. Strong accent calls out for you as you holler back. With a sheepish smile, he hands you a box of crepes. Grazie.

His green eyes flicker with evident panic, though he tries not to show it. “Hey, have you seen a small journal by any chance? It’s sort of important.” As quickly as you started, you stopped munching and immediately started to choke. A large hand pats your back as you inch away as if he held a deadly disease.

“N-no I have not.” You brush your hair back, suddenly hot. “Is it that big a deal?”

The brunette shrugs but reluctantly nods. “I write down my feelings sometimes. Helps me cope with lots of things.” An appreciated and honest expression maps itself between his soft features. “Though I think I found a new outlet.” Your heart stops as he glazes over the open scenery. “Still, I should go look for it.”

Left hollow and sick, you burn with fury towards yourself. You should have let it go, but God, why did you have to ruin everything?

The day settles with a drive around town with a navy Vespa. Charles had bought it on a whim when you gushed over the idea of adventuring in true old fashion. Just like Princess Anne and Joe Bradley. Snuggling your head with a hideous helmet, you pout as he clicks it securely before working on his own. “This is not what I had in mind.”

He clicks his tongue. “Rather be safe than sorry.”

“This is only going to mess with my hair. I planned this outfit to perfection, Cha! And look!” You give him a quick twirl as he rolls his eyes at the dramatic gesture. “Now you’ve ruined it.”

“Just get on.”

Bumpy road makes you squeal with hysteria as you cling on extra tight around his waist. You can hear his croaky laughter as he swerves to avoid crashing into a fruit stand. Scusa! “You’re going to get us killed, and contrary to belief, I would love to live!”

“Would you relax? I know what I’m doing.”

Once you make it out of the busy village, you’re actually able to enjoy the ride. You even try to convince him to play a round of i-Spy with you, though that later backfires when you accuse him of cheating. You’re in the heat of your one-sided argument when he pulls into an abandoned church. Hopping off, you lay your arms firmly against your hips. “What is all this?”

It goes unannounced, but he quietly makes his way over to creaky doors. “Would you like to find out?” With a decent round of skepticism, you begrudgingly follow. I don’t see what there could possibly be in here. Why don’t we just go for ice cream? Bringing a finger up to his lips, he signals for you to hush. Doe eyes flutter with curiosity as he makes his way to the altar.

As soon as he kneels down, you awkwardly kick your leg around as you puff your cheeks. You hum slowly as you watch the way he remains still for a while, eyes closed.

“Should I let you have a moment, or…” Be quiet, he hisses. You weren’t necessarily religious but you figured you should give him some space. The sound of old wood crumbles underneath your feet as you walk down the steps. I fucking got it!

You gasp loudly as you recklessly spin around to find him pulling pieces of wood, clearly destroying the already grubby floor. “I’m not that close with the man up above, but I’m almost sure you can’t say shit like that in here, even if it’s abandoned.” You slap your mouth shut as his eyes glimmer with amusement. Heat rises up to your cheeks. “I’m also sure you can’t be doing this! It’s private property.”

“Who’s going to stop me?” he childishly murmurs as he continues with his careless task. “Ouch,” he yelps when a splinter digs through his finger.

“Serves you right.”

Glaring up at your smug figure, the brunette waves you over. “Instead of just standing there, you should help me.”

“With what? There’s nothing valuable here! What are you even looking for?”

With a minor annoyance, he fiercely kicks through the board as it lets loose as cracks. Thunder rumbles as you shake your head with disapproval. You’ve done it. You made God mad, I hope you’re happy. Only, he’s grinning ear to ear as he shows off a small box. You tilt your head with clear confusion as he dashes up to you.

“I can’t believe it’s still here after all these years.” There’s a trace of disbelief and adoration as he takes in the dusty package. There’s a whole galaxy shining within his watercolor eyes when he looks up at you. Your breath gets stuck in your throat.

Blinking rapidly, you gently run your finger across it, skin instantly becoming a dark shade of brown as you scrunch your nose. “What is it?” Your eyebrows arch into a sympathetic peer. “Oh no…did you bury a hamster or something like that in there?”

Tears well up in your eyes as you tap the wood in a downhearted state. “No, you ghoul.” He tenderly opens it up. Pulling out a golden pin, your eyes widen as The Prancing Horse reflects back towards you both.

“My father left this here for me.” You heart swells at the sensitive mention. Charles had told you about his fathers death a few nights ago, so you were still new with deciding how to react. “He said he would, and he did.”

“That’s really sweet,” you whisper, hand pressing against his broad shoulder. “What does it mean?” And it takes you a while to realize that you weren’t asking for your benefit, but rather because you wanted to learn more about the Monegasque. Any crumb felt like a feast to you.

It appears as if he’s playing the words in his head as he runs his thumb against it. “My dad helped build this church when I was 6. It helped bring in a bit of money for the family.” Your eyes glimmer attentively as you nod. “When I had time to get away from boxing…yeah, boxing…he would bring me and my older brother to carry wood. Arthur was much younger.”

His Golden Goose tapped against the brown ground for further classification. “Maman would get upset at him, saying we were just babies, but we didn’t mind at all.” A gray cloud paints his eyes as he twists his lips. “I’m glad we did that, now that I’m older.”

“You must really miss him,” you mumble, glassy eyes shining back at him. He lets out a sorrowful smile.

“I do.” A beat. “But what am I doing acting like I’m the only one who’s had it tough?” Dark brows form a sharp V as he signals to you. “Oh, because of you and your relationship with your parents-”

“I got that,” you scowl with a lighthearted glare. The corner of his lips lift. “But my situation is nothing compared to yours. Sure, my parents and I aren’t close - not enough for my liking - but at least they’re alive.” He flinches slightly as you cradle his face. “I-”

“I know,” he reassures you with a small smile. “He was the best. Always put his family first; his son's dreams were his priority.” He raises the golden pin. “One night after dinner, he mentioned how he hid a small horse somewhere in the church, so that when the time was right, I would go back and look for it. I was covetous, wanted it right there and then. So, I worked up the courage to ask everyone around if they had seen a horse. They looked at me as if I was crazy.” He chuckles.

“He found out and sat me down. Told me it didn’t work like that. My biggest dream was to own a Ferrari, just like everyone in Monaco hopes to. He believed in me, swore that if I worked hard enough, then I could do it. Only then would I know where the mysterious pin was.”

“Lorenzo, my older brother, knew there was a key for…” He signals sheepishly at the wooden floor, a lock hidden in plain sight as he blushes. “I guess I never really learned how to be patient. I barely figured it out a few days ago, when you kicked the cabinet door open.”

You gape. “It was jammed.”

He snickers. “It reminded me of something he had said after he painted the walls. Only the toughest can kick without feeling any regret. He would have loved you, that much I know.”

Flustered, you twirl the hem of your dress. “You’re saying I’m a horse?”

“You’re definitely abnormal.” Your shoulders droop. “All I’m saying is that you helped me find the missing piece. And that means a lot.”

“But you don’t own a Ferrari yet,” you retorted, even though only you knew, you knew the truth, but he doesn’t bat an eye, only clips the pin onto your dress.

“One day I will.” He winks. “Until then, you can take care of this for me.”

“Two more weeks, huh?”

Forcing a spoonful of gelato into his mouth, you pout. He struggles to digest the berry treat. “That’s kind of sad. I think I’ll actually miss you, Charles.”

His lips curl. “I know I’ll miss you.” Brown hair flows against the summer breeze. “But it doesn’t have to end like this. We can still see each other. Right?”

“Uh…”

He would find out eventually once the article was published and he would hold every right to hate you. To not want to see you again. Your lack of response has him pinching his face. “You don’t want to?”

Scrambling like a clumsy giraffe, you fidle with a nearby pillow. “I do! But when would we have the time?” You’re going to be too busy racing and hating my guts, you want to spit out when he beams back at you.

“I would make the time just for you.”

Your heart clenches. Could he just be honest? Open up to you. You would gladly do the same, but he needed to do this first to give you the courage to own up to your secrets. Lips part, then purse. “Charles, I-” A ring lingers in the air as he tips his head, giving to the go-ahead. Excusing yourself, you march into the sunny room.

“Yes, hello?”

“How’s vacation?” Eleanor’s rich voice enters your ears as you squirm.

“Vacation?” you squeak.

She sighs. “I’m obviously kidding. Can’t you tell that I’m kidding?” A nervous giggle flutters as you hum back at her. She continues. “Anyways, that's not what I called you for. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. My injuries are much better. Doc says I can have the casts removed in a week-”

“Let me rephrase. I wanted to check up on your work. Progress.”

“Of course,” you say. “I actually have it done. It just needs a few more rounds of proof-reading, but I’m sure I can send it to you by…” You stare at the calendar. “Two weeks.”

Eleanor clicks her tongue in disapproval. “No, I need it by Friday. Nothing past that.”

Your stomach lurches. “Eleanor, I can’t.” And why not? Biting down on your nails, you peek over to where the brunette sun bathes, or naps, you can’t tell. I need two weeks because by then I’ll be gone and won’t have to deal with a certain driver detesting me. You understand, right? But you don’t say any of that.

“You said it was an exclusive. I need this,” she warns, subtle threat lacing his voice. “We’re talking about one of the most sought-out drivers in all of Formula One. Do you realize what this could do for your career? If you nail this right in the eye, you might even become my right hand. And you know it’s only up from there, sweetheart. Friday.”

“Friday.”

That same night, the sound of your digits hitting the keyboard are the only thing being heard. Charles tries to sneak a peek, but when you cry out stating you were helping a friend get over a break up, he took a step back and scrolled through his phone.

Stellar job…The most…Amazing…

A frustrated growl escapes you as you fist your hands. Taking a look, Charles can’t help but grin. Often misunderstood, the 26 year old deals with lots of… “Argh!” His eyes widened.

“That bad, huh? What did he do to your poor friend?”

“What?” you rudely retort, but quickly try to ease your breathing. “Right. Um. Yeah, men are shit.”

“Of course we are,” he replies warmly. “How about you take a break? If you’re getting too riled up, you won’t do her any good. Just refresh and come back to it. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

But the blank space has you stressed as you circle back to what Eleanor said over the phone. You had perfect this. “I have to do this. Help her, I mean. Now.”

“You’re too kind.” It’s as if a loving glow towers over his face as he sits at the edge of the bed. “I admire that.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. But seriously, let's go for a walk.”

Despite the sun setting, he of course wears his famous Raybans and a Boston hat lounged over his curly hair. His killer mullet was rolling in as you licked your lips at the dreamy sight.

Wait. No.

With a secretive glance, you find him whistling an unknown tune. Though he wears the darkest shade of sunglasses, you can still feel his warm gaze. Though his luscious hair is draped with an old hat, you can still distinguish his shampoo scent. His body next to yours is enough to make your inside flip as you shake your head abruptly.

This was Charles. Just a friend. A friend for the time being, at least. There was no room to form a crush now. You settled on the fact that he was just merely attractive. That you can do - admit.

“I was serious about what I said earlier today. I will visit you wherever you are.” Green eyes flicker over to you. “You’ve become one of the most important persons in my life. A good friend to have around.”

Your heart for some reason shatters as you squint your eyes at the golden sun. “Right after Amelia and Roman, you are someone I consider a friend, too. I’m glad we met.” A peaceful silence lingers between you two as your heart thuds against your ribcage. “Charles-”

“I know you read my journal.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

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slightlymore · 1 year

Text

the neighbour

bangchan x fem reader

genre: neighbours!au, slow burn, smut!!!!, romance, tiny angst, some fluff moments, strangers to lovers, sexual tension, dual perspective

content/warnings: +18, solo m, solo f, accidental auditory voyeurism (auralism), toys solo f, lots of dirty thoughts, lots of dirty talks, raw, oral f, oral m + deepthroating + swallowing/facial, manhandling, multiple orgasms both, body worshipping, praise kink, light degradation, edging both, begging both, thigh riding, finger sucking, hand necklace, hair pulling both, biting both, spanking, mirrors, fingering, titty and nipple play, cum play, creampie, spit, overstimulation both, aftercare + they’re both lowkey perverts sksk

words: 14k

___

When he heard the first noise, Chris sighed deeply, puffing his cheeks before releasing the air. He considered himself lucky to not have had a neighbour for the longest time - not because he was worried of them being annoying - he just liked the freedom of being the only one on that building floor.

And when he heard the second noise and the buzz of many people talking, he knew he had to go outside and check on who was in the middle of moving in.

Not because he was nosy (he was) but because he wanted to understand the kind of person (or worse, family with children? god) was moving in. Also maybe they needed help (he wasn’t actually going to help, he was just a Libra and a people pleaser).

“Hey-ya” he nodded once at some uniformed men, carrying boxes upon boxes into the next door apartment. The men tipped their little hats as a greeting and Chris leaned on the door frame with arms crossed on his chest. He was a good diplomat. He was a great diplomat even. No. A spy. And he was sure he’d get all the information he wanted out of them.

He opened his mouth to start with the first of the questions when a voice blocked the words in his throat.

“Be extra careful with that one box, please. It’s fragile.”

Chris had to start from the bottom.

No, his eyes did a quick look at everything but then he thought he must start again from the bottom.

And slowly.

He stared at your shoes. Heels. Not too tall, not too short. Pointy and black. Classic. Then your ankles. God, he loved ankles. No hosiery although it was pretty cold. Did you care too much about fashion? Or not enough? God, he loved legs too. Pencil skirt. A bit outdated but it worked. Shirt and blazer? Office worker. 9-5 person. Fuck, he definitely had to stop blasting his music at night. Unbuttoned shirt. Daring. God, he loved necks. Wait, wait. Hands? Hand. Left hand. No rings. No partners or children? Maybe. Single mom? Could be. Career woman? Perhaps even worse - full or rules.

“Are you going to keep staring or will you finally turn around, go inside, and mind your own business?”

The voice returned and Chris had to finally analyze the lips. God, he loved li-

“I’m being serious,” you added.

Chris cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Hi. I noticed you’re moving in.”

You let your eyes drape over his body, from his nude toes (you made some kind of face and Chris felt really self conscious about his toes for a moment there), then his thighs (he shivered), and when you lifted one eyebrow he felt completely naked.

“Alright, I get it. It’s uncomfortable to be stared at,” he fought the urge to cover his crotch in the damn grey sweats he chose for the day.

“Yes, I am moving in. Congratulations, you have eyes,” you made a little smile. Those types of smiles you do when you hate someone and you kinda want them to notice but not too much.

Chris let out a dry chuckle in the form of air from the nose. “Thanks. Do you need any help?”

You were going to say no. You were definitely going to say no. Not only you had a whole minions squad to move in for you, but you also looked like the type of person to refuse help altogether.

“Actually,” you leaned towards the wall and Chris followed your movement as you grabbed a square soft-looking bag-box thing with both arms and handed it to him.

“Could you please take Nyx in for a few hours? She’s scared of all the noise.”

Chris silently took the bag-box and looked inside.

“It’s a cat,” he said, one beat before realizing again he was sounding a bit stupid.

“Do you always say at loud everything that goes on in your-”

“Don’t finish that,” he interrupted you.

You closed your mouth with a little smile.

Chris looked at the cat again. It was black with gorgeous green eyes.

“Hello?” he tried.

The kitty hissed and Chris impercetibly jolted in place, blinking a few times.

“It means she likes you,” you explained.

“Oh, really? Like owner like cat, I guess,” he gave you another glance.

Your eyelids dropped at the comparison as if a bit annoyed but not surprised. The glint of amusement didn’t disappear from your eyes though, so Chris was glad to understand he didn’t particularly cross any boundary. Besides staring at your legs.

“She doesn’t bite by the way. No worries.”

“I don’t mind a little kitty scratch,” Chris replied.

You stared him down for the second time, as if that information renewed your curiosity about him. Or maybe you were just making sure if he actually looked like able to survive a cat attack or not. Or handle your scratches.

“Can I pet her? Your kitty,” he asked.

Your gaze went back to his face. The little innuendo banter didn’t go unnoticed to you. He wondered if that was going to be the boundary that would make you snap.

“Too early. She needs time to warm up to you,” you simply said.

Chris nodded. “Of course.”

He went inside and placed the kitty near the living room window to have both sun and shade. Not that cats were plants by any means, but he never owned one.

Then he realized he didn’t even ask your name or get any kind of information as he planned.

Maybe he wasn’t that good of a diplomat as he thought.

___

You sat down on the plastic covered couch as the last man exited the apartment and you stared at the myriad of boxes in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whispered, one hand to rub at your temples. You wished you could still have the keys to your old place for the night. You weren’t in the mood to make your bed. Maybe you were going to sleep on the couch, still dressed and makeup on and stuff.

Then you remembered Nyx.

The neighbour opened the door after a few seconds.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Figured it was you.”

“Hey,” you said back, a bit awkwardly crossing your arms on your chest. “Thank you for taking care of Nyx,” you added.

The man took a step back as to invite you in. “It was honestly a pleasure. I realized I really enjoy cats.”

You thought for a second if you should actually get in or just ask him to go grab her and leave. But then you saw Nyx sprawled on his couch, paws in the air and all, and a smile bloomed on your face.

“You should not have let her out. She probably left so much hair around,” you took of your heels and walked towards her. His living room rug felt very soft under your toes and you made a mental note to ask him where he got it so you could plagiarize the choice.

The man closed the door behind you and walked the same route, sitting on the couch arm and staring at Nyx with a genuinely fond smile.

“I do not mind hair at all.”

You knew he didn’t mean it in a dirty innuendo way that time.

Nyx purred happily against your hand as you pet her. “Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered.

“Wait, stay. I am in the middle of making dinner. I’m sure you got nothing to eat today,” the man got back on his feet and indicated towards the kitchen.

You got up from the crouching position. “Thank you. But I was thinking I could order something. It’s fine.”

He bit his lower lip as if wondering if your refusal was politeness or if you hated him and wanted to just go home. You realized he was lowkey cute conflicted that way and you chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, the smile already blooming on his face as well.

“What are you making?” you ignored him. “Chicken breast and rice?”

The man smiled again with a hum. “Oh, so you think I look fit although that comment feels a bit insulting.”

You chuckled again shaking your head in disbelief.

“Well, it’s not chicken breast tonight but if you want that come over any meal of the day besides Friday night and I’ll probably serve you that,” he continued.

“Okay, noted. We’ll see each other only on Friday nights.”

“It’s noodle soup,” he finally answered. “And I think it’s ready.”

You watched his large shoulders as he walked towards the kitchen to check on it.

___

Your silence told Chris that you considered noodle soup a decent meal and he hoped it was decent. He wasn’t a great cook but his food was alright enough to not make him die and for the longest time he thought that was a decent level of skill. Now, seeing the spoon inching towards your mouth he really wanted the food to actually taste good.

“You don’t have to stare at me like that. I won’t die,” you lifted your gaze on him.

Chris exhaled at the tension. “I’m just worried.”

You smiled. “I can see that. I’m sure it’s more than okay.”

The reassurance didn’t help ease his nervousness.

He lifted one eyebrow, teeth gritting as he stared at the way you gently slurped on the soup then had a mouthful of noodles right after.

Your cheeks puffed a little as you chewed and the view made him smile for a moment before he remembered you were about to communicate your review. He got nervous again.

You swallowed and nodded. “Good.”

Chris blinked. “Good?”

You hummed.

“That’s it?”

You scoffed incredulous.

“I’m joking I’m joking,” he chuckled and grabbed his own chopsticks.

It went quiet for the next moments but Chris didn’t feel awkward. Nyx was rubbing herself on both of your calves and the way your eyes would soften looking down at her, with that little eyebrow lift and the sweet voice made Chris feel some type of way.

“Thank you for the meal and taking care of her,” you said and Chris waved his hand as his mouth was full.

“No need to thank me,” he replied after gulping.

“What’s your favourite food?” you asked after some more silence. Small talk huh?

Chris looked towards an imaginary point, thinking. “I like pretty much anything.”

“Okay, then next Friday you’ll eat whatever I’ll give you.”

He locked eyes with you as you reached for the glass of water and had a sip. The silence engulfed you again.

God, he felt like leaning on the table and biting your lower lip with his teeth and he didn’t even know your name.

___

The following days passed quickly as you worked full time and came home to a disastrous apartment still filled with boxes. You could swear you’d get rid of 10 and 20 appeared in their place.

You were sighing, absentmindedly rubbing your lower back while the other arm was trying to carry a few flat packed boxes you managed to empty that evening.

You weren’t sure of the time but the young woman walking towards your neighbour’s door in what seemed like a night booty call told you it was probably pretty late. She was gorgeous and you had to force yourself to look away and close your mouth as she gave you a small smiling nod, passing you by and engulfing you in a dizzying perfume. You walked quickly towards the elevator in your indoors duck slippers, not in the mood to make eye contact with the man who took care of your kitty (actual cat) and fed you last week as he’d open the door to let the woman in.

It was Thursday and you realized with a certain degree of embarassment that you have been looking forward the Firday night dinner since the moment you left his apartment after that noodle soup date.

You couldn’t understand why the sight of that woman could make you feel that uneasy and you hated yourself for the speed of your brain trying to make up excuses as to why suddenly you wouldn’t be free anymore the following day.

When you came back up the woman was presumably inside already, probably sipping some fancy wine from a fancy glass with toes in the fancy carpet the man had - that apartment complex was for wealthy people, you weren’t stupid to guess the neighbour man was pretty well off as well - or perhaps already bent over the same table you sat at the previous week.

The quiet of your apartment got disrupted by a single thud, like something falling on the ground, or well, a bed frame hitting the wall as someone throws themselves on it - or gets thrown.

Suddenly you felt like wearing your coat and shoes, and after giving Nyx a little head kiss, you exited the apartment again for a weird urge to buy a night snack from the corner shop.

___

“Working this late?”

A deep voice made you snap your head upwards, your fingers stopped in front of the door pad as you were about to type your password.

The neighbour was bringing out dirty laundry, you realized, and you wondered if he intended to wash the bedding right after the woman left. The thought was a bit ridiculous and it put you in a bit of a better mood.

“No. I went out for a corner shop trip,” you explained and the man blinked as if finally realizing you were wearing pajama pants under your coat and your hair didn’t look work appropriate. The plastic bag in your hand was also still full of the snacks you didn’t have any appetite to eat while counting minutes sitting at the white and cheap tables outside the shop wondering how come time goes by fast when you have sex but it’s so slow when others have sex.

“Got any good snacks?” he asked just to fill in the silence, you figured.

You hummed as a reply. “Laundry this late?” you asked in return.

The man looked down at the basket in his arms as if he forgot he was was carrying it. “Oh. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get productive instead.”

Good excuse, you gave him that.

“Well, have fun, then,” you pushed the front door in, waving a hand. The man gave you a little square smile, making his dimples pop. “Good snacking.”

You closed the door then for some reason turned around, staring at him through the peephole as he walked towards the elevator.

___

Chris loaded the washing machine with an empty head. He didn’t think much about the one night stand. It has been a normal, not the best, but satisfactory one night stand. Just the usual. He’d normally work a bit or go to sleep after the person would leave - this time he was doing laundry. All standard stuff.

But then he saw you and he felt a weird lump in his throat, as if he got caught red handed.

Maybe it was because his date left minutes prior and he was still a bit disoriented, or maybe it was your nighttime look, the youthful but tired expression on your face with no make-up on, or maybe the sleepy eyes you had.

Or maybe it was the impression that you left your house on purpose.

He couldn’t recall if he made the woman loud enough for you to hear anything and his bed technically should not creak, but he wasn’t fully sure because he was too - well, busy - to analyse that in the moment.

He scratched his head, staring at the way the washing machine slowly started to hum.

___

You wanted to pretend like you somehow forgot about the dinner.

Of course, you didn’t. And honestly it would have been rude to.

Somehow you were hoping that he forgot about it.

It was a random invitation anyway, a joke. You didn’t give him a specific time frame. He didn’t even confirm that he’d come.

Somehow you were hoping that he didn’t forget about it.

And if he did, should you just go and knock on his door to say hey so are you coming over or what?

You shook your head, stirring the pasta sauce with a shiver down your spine. That would be- it would be- you couldn’t even think of a proper word for that feeling. Somewhat along the lines of humiliating.

Or would that be cool? Just knock knock hey, I have dinner.

You sighed, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pan before placing it down on a plate.

Why were you getting so worked up over a damn dinner with some random neighbour?

What if he had plans Friday night, anyway? He looked like he could be a busy and sociable man.

You sighed again, looking around the apartment which you deep cleaned. Then you stared at the abundant portion of pasta boiling gently.

God, you didn’t even know his name.

___

Chris looked in the mirror hung near the entrance door for the last time. He felt stupid. And his hair wasn’t cooperating.

He wondered if you’d think he only wears the same black shirt all the time so he wore a black shirt with a different logo to convey the message that he changes clothes like a normal human being. Not that it mattered.

He was ashamed to admit that he has been lowkey pacing the apartment for a bit that day, brainstorming solutions for the weird up in the air dinner invitation. He should have asked for confirmation last night.

What if it was a mere joke? A random polite made up phrase in the let’s go out for coffee sometime category?

But what if you were waiting for him? He needed a back up plan in case he showed up and you’d blankly stare at him with no dinner prepared.

He felt very stupid.

And he was glad you couldn’t see the way he jumped in place and felt his heart fall down to his ass when he heard the doorbell.

“Hey,” he opened.

“Hello,” you lifted your gaze.

Were you a bit- nervous?

“I came by just in case you forgot- well, not that you’d forget, but just in case I wasn’t clear enough about the dinner invitation, but, of course, if you made other plans in the meantime and you’re not free anymore or if you’ve already eaten then-”

“I was on my way to come over,” he gently interrupted your rambling. You unclasped your hands and put them behind your back at that information. You relaxed.

“Oh,” you smiled, “well, then. I made pasta. Hope it’s okay.”

___

“Hello, baby,” the neighbour giggled entering your apartment. He placed the wine bottle he prepared - sign he really didn’t forget, you were relieved to notice - on the floor and knelt down as Nyx lazily strutted towards him and rubbed her head then back on his hand. “I really missed you.”

You walked towards the kitchen to grab the food.

“You can come over and see her whenever you want to. I somehow feel like she missed you too.”

The man got up and walked the distance towards the arranged table, placing the bottle on it. “Did she?”

His tone was low and you wondered if he talked like that to his last night date. Or maybe he could do worse? More? How deep could his voice go?

“Yeah. I guess you have good vibes,” you complimented him.

He eyed the pasta you were carrying and he whistled impressed.

“Definitely better than my noodle soup.”

“Well, let’s see about that,” you gave him a look.

“You don’t seem like you’re bad at something,” he watched you serve him while sitting down.

“Perhaps this is the only thing I’m bad at,” you murmured back.

For some reason, maybe the ambient lights, or the closeness of your plates, maybe the way the shadows on his face looked accentuating his jaw, or maybe his gaze, compelled you to talk softly.

The neighbour liked your reply and gave you a smile, those languid smiles with one corner lifted more than the other.

You served yourself and sat down.

Your gazes met again and that was his cue to taste and review. You could understand why he was nervous last week.

“Hmmm,” he simply replied after a long long chewing moment.

You lifted one eyebrow. “Hmmm?”

He chuckled. “You must be so curious to know. I want to keep you waiting some more. It’s fun.”

You scoffed amused, taking a sip of water. “Well, I won’t beg for any comment, if that’s your plan.”

Did he do this with his date too? Edging her as she looked eager for a single touch? Or did he edge her when she was about to orgasm in his arms? Did she beg? Was he capable of making a woman beg?

Well, you were close to say please is this good or not I’m going to go insane, any moment now so probably he was more than capable of doing that.

“It’s very good,” he finally said with a proud expression, seeing your shaking and annoyed leg under the table. “I really like it.”

“Hmmm,” you weren’t fully pleased, but you tasted the pasta too and you let the smile bloomed on your lips warm up the space between you.

___

It was a bit too spicy for him, Chris realized after eating half the plate. But he wasn’t just going to back away. Maybe that was a test. Do you only entertain men who can handle the spice? Well, he was going to finish the plate and ask for more.

“Your apartment is coming up nicely,” he commented after a moment of silence. The bottle was almost empty and he really liked the light in your eyes because of the glass you were sipping from.

You looked around as if staring at it from his perspective. “Still a long way to go but I am pleased with it so far.”

“It’s curious. We have specular apartments.”

Chris made a mental note to remember that you were probably sleeping head to head. Maybe he was too loud last night. Did you mind? Was the noise bothersome? Did you even hear? Somehow he wished you did.

“I met with your girlfriend last night in the corridor,” you casually thew it out there as if reading his mind.

So you met.

He knew that you knew she wasn’t his girlfriend. You just wanted confirmation, didn’t you?

It made his fingers tingle. He had a sip of his wine.

“Did you talk?” he simply asked.

He felt a bit cruel seeing the faint shadow of something in your eyes. And he felt even more cruel because he loved it.

“No, just said hi.” You had a sip of your wine.

Should he drag it some more?

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Chris finally said.

___

The relief that washed over you made you cringe. You pretended to be a bit surprised. Not too much. A bit disinterested. Neutral.

“Oh,” you just said, unsure of how people replied to something like that. Questions roamed your head? Why not? Do you have another person you’re interested in? Are you too busy for a committed relationship? Was she not your type? Are you still not over your ex? Are you some kind of fuckboy?

But none felt appropriate.

“Do you have a partner?”

He took you by surprise. “No,” you replied. “I am too busy I guess.”

The neighbour leaned back in his chair, his fingers lazily making the glass leg roll.

“Can I ask what you do?”

You rested your face in your palm. “You can ask me whatever you want.”

The man smiled.

“I’m an Executive Director,” you continued.

He smiled more widely. “Of course you are.”

“What does that mean?” you leaned in with a giggle.

The man shrugged. “You said you wouldn’t beg. Also you look like someone who doesn’t take orders, you give them.”

You relaxed in your chair as well, arms thoughtfully crossed on your chest, taking in the information. You were sure you didn’t look like that but you accepted the compliment.

“Also, you live in this luxury apartment complex,” he added as if that could make his reasoning more rational and less rooted in his will to compliment you.

You nodded with an amused expression. “Well, and what do you do? Since you also live in this apartment complex?”

The man stretched his arms and back. “I’m self employed.”

You tilted your head to the side waiting for more information.

“I’m just a music producer.”

Somehow it wasn’t surprising. You nodded. “Why ‘just’? That’s very impressive.”

“Well, it’s not more impressive than your job,” he replied.

“Knowing the C major scale is already very impressive, what are you talking about?”

The neighbour blinked a few times then gently threw his head back in a bright laugh. You stared at his closed eyes. Then his perfect teeth. Then his dimples and the earrings shaking a bit in his ears. His neck was extended and it just exposed further the chicken and rice body he was farming. Gorgeous, although it made you a little sad and you hoped he was eating well. Not that you cared for a stranger. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care-

He opened his eyes again and your gazes met.

You didn’t care?

___

Chris was confused. He discovered everything he initially needed for his nosy spirit. But somehow it wasn’t enough and with every question he asked, a new question came to mind. Your family? Siblings? How old is Nyx? Did you have other pets before? Why did you move? What did you study?

You were polite and answered each and every one of them, exchanging the favour of asking him the same back. How long has he been producing? Was it hard? Are his songs popular? Oh, you probably heard some of them around? No way, you made that song??

Chris was very confused, especially since it was very late and he was exhausted, yet he didn’t want to move his ass from the damn chair and go home.

But then you hid a little yawn and he realized he should probably just go. He thanked you again for the dinner. Should he ask you out for the next Friday?

But you perhaps just wanted to repay him the favour. Booking you for three Fridays in a row would have been too much, he figured. You looked like a busy and sociable woman.

He was outside your door and you smiled at him seeing him out although he only had to take a few steps towards his own apartment.

“Well, goodnight-” he kept that phrase suspended.

You blinked at him.

“Y/N,” you finally said with a little smile.

He repeated your name.

“Goodnight-” you replied.

“Chris,” he added.

“Goodnight Chris.”

___

Chris felt like a pervert. No, worse. He felt like a stalker. Was it weird that he memorized the time you’d go to work and the time you came back? He didn’t try to, for real. It just happened. He’d hear your morning alarm at 7am and the way your shower ran ten minutes afterwards. Then a pause, he figured you prepared breakfast and got dressed. Then the sound of your hairdryer or whatever you did to your hair, he wasn’t fully sure. Then another pause. He liked to imagine you were putting on some makeup. His 7am brain has been busy imagining you putting on bright red lipstick, gently bent over your sink to see yourself better in the mirror, although he fully knew you would never wear that kind of lipstick to work.

Then the sound of the door closing. It wasn’t a loud bang, you were considerate, but Chris had good hearing.

He’d sleep late in the mornings usually. But your routine influenced him. So his routine became waking up at 7am with you, listen to your movements, then after you’d be gone, he’d also get up and go about his day.

Was this normal neighbour behaviour? He wasn’t sure. He’s never had one before you.

During the day he wouldn’t think of you at all. Maybe once in a while.

And then he’d hear the sound of your door opening and closing. Nyx’s meow as she’d welcome you and your muffled far away baby talk, probably calling her my love and other nicknames Chris low-key wanted to hear directed at himself.

He wouldn’t listen to you after that, he was a busy man afterwards, and he didn’t want to be a full-on creep.

But he knew you’d get in bed at around 10pm so he started to go as well. Not to sleep, he could hear the sound of the Tik Toks you were watching or the movie you’d put on. Sometimes it would be silent and he was dying of curiousity to know what were you doing. Reading? Puzzles? Listening to music over earphones?

One night it was particularly quiet, maybe you fell asleep, and Chris was about to grab his laptop and do some work when he heard a low buzz.

It was so faint that the wondered if he was just imagining it. Maybe his dirty mind was just trying to fill in his brain with images of what he’d secretly desire you to be doing. But no, it was there. He fought the urge to place his ear on the wall like a total loser and ignored it for the night, blasting music in his ears instead.

But then it happened again the following night and Chris sighed, heat travelling down his abdomen. He scratched his ear then nape. Then he huffed, closing the laptop and putting it on the side. He didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t push himself to not listen either. He was just curious, he told himself. Also, it wasn’t his fault you were masturbating in the head to head bedrooms you guys had and it wasn’t his fault that the walls weren’t particularly thick for a luxury apartment complex.

But he wasn’t curious only about the buzz.

Well, yes. He wondered what kind of toy could that be. Was it small? Was it internal or external? Was it a vibrating dildo or a clit sucking device?

But no, not really. He was more curious about the sounds you’d make. Were you a noisy person? Would you be loud or muffle your voice into the pillow? What position were you in?

God, he felt like a pervert. It wasn’t his fault you were masturbating but it was his fault for listening like that and imagining.

He reached for the headphones when the first noise arrived. He froze, fingers in mid air.

The noises increased in number and volume. Whimpers and moans.

He let his hand fall on the bed and he dug the nails into the covers ever so slightly.

He blinked, eyes towards the ceiling, your eyes probably rolled back in your head. Was that good? You were probably swallowing that toy so well, all wet and warm. He exhaled.

Like a reply, you kept moaning. He shivered, a single shiver coming from his toes up his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened again.

It was no surprise that he was hard. He wasn’t particularly dressed either so he couldn’t even lie to himself and say that he didn’t notice.

“Shit,” he mumbled out loud, passing one hand in his dark curls, then on his face. It stopped on his chest, where it buzzed with self restraintful force.

No, he wasn’t going to rub one out to the sound of his neighbour. He was not going to do that.

But you sounded so good although muffled, and the universe gifted him with too much imagination for his own good. His hand moved on its own on his flinching stomach going over the short trimmed hair and he exhaled as if he has not been breathing for the past minutes.

Oh, it felt better than usual. He was way past teenage years but with the way the precum leaked on his fingers, the thumb collecting it, he felt like a virgin masturbating for the first time. His adam apple traveled up and down his throat and he closed his eyes, pushing the head into the pillow, trying to pace the movement of his hand with the rhythm of your moans. He’s never felt dirtier and it went so quick to his head that he didn’t need much. With a groan then a higher pitched whimper he came messily on his stomach, some of it reaching his chest. Your moans increased in the same moment and Chris thought he was going to go insane, imagining you sprawled and shaking because of your own orgasm.

If he came so quickly like that, what was he going to do if you were in his arms?

___

It has been a few horny days, you realized as your hand automatically reached for he drawer on your right. Then you stopped. You felt a bit tired of your toys and that month’s ovulation felt too intense for you to keep using them.

Somehow, well, somehow you wanted the real deal. Should you go out? Go back on Tinder?

You sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, eyebrows furrowed staring at the ceiling.

Fuck it, you got up, throwing the duvet on one side.

It has been too long since you went outside or dressed up. Hell, it has been too long since you actually fucked someone, and although you mastered your own shit down to a notch, you really missed human contact. Perhaps you were very lonely and not even that horny.

The dress was on, heels were worn, hair done and your girlfriends complimented your makeup. The night seemed promising.

The man you eyed a few hours into the night wasn’t that bad either. Decent height, good breath, normal man cologne, and the alcohol in your system did the rest. You didn’t even need to hear him talk or anything. You brought him home and got down to business.

You tried, really.

And the poor dude probably also tried a lot.

But nothing could beat the way you felt on your own, thinking about your neighbour Chris with a toy buried deep inside of you pretending it was him.

___

Chris decided he wasn’t going to be creepy that night. He wondered what was going on in your life to make you masturbate that much every night. It was completely normal but he usually masturbated mostly because of stress so he couldn’t help but ask himself if you were also very stressed or if the job was talking a toll on you.

Maybe he could go over and check, maybe with the excuse to see Nyx. The evil part inside of him wanted to go over the moment you started to touch yourself, just so he could interrupt and force you to come to the door, maybe all heated up, maybe a bit pissed at him. He wanted to see your annoyed expression at the fact you couldn’t finish. He wanted you to be so pissed and horny to just slam him into the damn door and find relief through his body. Chris didn’t want anything back. He could have just watched the way you sit on his thigh and ride it, head thrown back and your nails digging into his shoulders. He could be completely content just to stare at the way your breasts moved gently, not as hard as if you were to ride his cock, but almost. He really wanted to see your frustratred expression as rocking on his thigh would not be enough for you so you’d stare at him frantically, begging with your eyes for more, because you’d never beg with your words. Chris would pretend he doesn’t understand just to see you even more impatient. Even more eager. Perhaps he could drive you to the point of pushing him down the couch and sitting on his face.

The slam against the wall made him open his eyes. That wasn’t a familiar sound. The second thud made his lift one eyebrow. Were you renovating the bedroom?

But then a male grunt made his boiling blood chill in one second.

You had guests.

You had guests who were probably slamming into you given the sheer intensity of your sudden moans.

___

“Busy and enjoyable night?”

You looked to your right where a man was loading his own washing mashine. He wasn’t looking at you but no one was around so you knew he was talking to you. You took a moment to stare at his profile, the perfect flinching jaw muscle the only detail showing his emotions, whatever they were, on his otherwise calm face.

“I guess you can say so,” you answered, a bit embarassed. “Was I too noisy?”

“I wasn’t sleeping so I didn’t mind the noise,” Chris finally looked at you. He was very casual about it.

“The fact you were awake,” you threw some other clothes in the washing machine, “makes it all somehow worse. I am sorry you had to hear all that.” You hoped he didn’t see the bed sheets you were washing but if he heard you the whole night it was probably useless to hide it.

You gave him a small smile and he imitated you. You looked as if exchanging opinions on the weather instead of commenting on your one night stand.

“I was working, so big loud earphones on. Didn’t hear much.”

Although he made sure to say that, you couldn’t fully trust him. The way he even started that conversation in the first place instead of pretending to not have heard anything, as it would have been polite to, was as if he wanted you to know he heard.

But instead of feeling shame, the situation just made your blood run faster. He heard you. He heard your moans. Was he even a bit turned on? Or maybe just pissed because you ruined his night?

“To answer your full question, busy yes, enjoyable?” you trailed off, closing the washing mashine and staring at the way the clothes started to lazily twirl around.

“not much,” you finished.

Chris was also done and he was grabbing the hamper. His eyes looked like two cuts under his curly fringe. You wondered if his hair was soft as it looked. The dude’s hair wasn’t that soft and when he went down on you and you grabbed it, your mind couldn’t help but imagine Chris’ curls instead.

He was waiting for more information.

“Didn’t make me cum once,” you shrugged and didn’t give him any time to comment on it, leaving for the stairs instead.

___

Chris turned his head to watch your back disappear behind the corner. His gaze trailed down on your ass then legs.

He exhaled through his nose.

Why was he annoyed?

Because you fucked someone? Or because you didn’t get fucked well enough the way you deserved?

Your perfume was lingering in the air as he made his way up on the stairs as well and he waited the same elevator you took. The image of you getting railed into the mattress didn’t leave his mind for a minute since last night. But he knew that no fantasy of his could get close to reality, seeing you in your skimmy pajamas that morning. Your hair, the exposed delicate skin, the curve of your neck, your lazy amused voice.

Chris gulped once as he entered the elevator. He pictured taking you against that wall. Or maybe, against the damn mirror, so you could see your expression as your knees would give up from the sheer intensity of the orgasm he’d give you.

But he couldn’t fully blame the guy. Chris wasn’t that confident either and he was sure no man could prevent cumming in his pants in seconds if you were sprawled on the bed underneath him.

What the guy had to be blamed for is that he had the opportunity to pleasure the most incredible woman Chris knew, and he failed completely.

He was sure you won’t see him again, but if the dude came around the second time Chris thought he could break his fingers, that way maybe he could remind him they exist and can be used.

He exhaled through his nose again when the elevator communicated with a ding that it arrived on the right floor.

You were waiting for him and Chris stopped in his tracks for a moment, before walking up to you.

His gaze fell on the plate your were holding.

“Made some pie,” you smiled. Your eyes were shining a bit. If that was your expression when embarrassed then he really wanted to find ways to make you shy again.

“Take it as a token of my sorry I made you listen to me moan at 2am,” you added.

“You really don’t have to feel sorry about it,” Chris smiled back but he really wanted the plate, the hamper down at his feet already to free his hands.

“Well, you clearly wanted something from me by mentioning it,” your eyes shone again. Yes, that was your embarrassed expression, but there was something more to you, he realized. Malice.

Chris didn’t confirm nor denied. “I will enjoy it, thank you,” he simply replied, your fingers touching as he grabbed the pie. Your hands were a bit cold and a shiver went down his spine, imagining those fingers trailing down his body until they would warm up on his skin.

“I hope you do,” you said then turned around, disappearing behind your apartment door.

Chris put down the pie on his kitchen table then looked down at his hand which was still faintly burning from your cold touch.

He hummed and closed his eyes, sliding it under his waistband. He fucked his fist harder and rougher than usual.

___

You realized finding human contact wasn’t that satisfactory after all, so you huffed that night and after a short tik tok trip you reached for your drawer.

Then you changed your mind. Could you just do with manual that night? It would take more time but you somehow were in the mood to be a bit frustrated physically so that the emotional frustration could be drowned instead.

You relaxed into your pillow and the realization that Chris was probably on his bed in the same position made you bit your lower lip. Your delusions made you think he was a bit upset that morning because he was jealous but then again, if he wanted to he would, right? So he probably didn’t want to.

That thought took you out of the horniness you were slipping into and brought a little of sadness instead.

Hell, he’s never even asked for your phone number. Not even as a neighbour. Weren’t you at least supposed to talk about hot water and the trash bins?

No, you weren’t horny anymore. You were pissed.

But you didn’t need Chris to masturbate.

You could just do it as usual. You didn’t need to imagine his palms on you. Nor his veiny forearms. Definitely not his pillowy and pink lips, dragging down your skin.

Your first whimper took even you by surprise but you couldn’t stop. Not when the image of Chris’ face between your thighs was burning inside your closed eyelids. Would he be gentle? Would he be rough? The only thing you were sure of was the way his velvety and wet tongue would feel like. Would he grunt while eating you out? Would he moan, desperately trying to find relief in the friction with the mattress?

Oh that was a good image.

That was such a good image that your toes curled and your fingers picked up the pace. Was he a head pusher? Or was he a good boy waiting for you to please him with your mouth the way you wanted to?

You moaned louder.

You were so close. So so so fucking close.

And then the knock on the door made your legs shake in frustration. You opened your eyes, fingers still deep inside of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. If the person didn’t leave in the next second you’d lose that goddam orgasm.

The person knocked again.

Fuck.

Brain hazy with murderous intent and anger you didn’t even consider that the only person to be able to get inside the building and knock instead of ringing the outside bell was your neighbour.

“Hey ya,” Chris smiled, lifting one plastic bag. It clinked and you figured it was beer.

___

Chris ruffled his hair at the whimpers.

He couldn’t go on like that anymore. The evil plan to well, edge? no, cockblock you and your toy? yeah, sounded too evil for him. But after you careless display of noise with the dude the previous night he though you deserved it.

At the second louder whimper he was already outside, all of the beer he accumulated in his fridge in a bag and the poor excuse of hey im bored and I wanted to see Nyx, well, I wanted to see you as well.

“...I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he repeated the phrase and completed it after you opened the door.

You were a mess, a complete mess. Your eyes were shining and he could tell you were boiling hot from the effort of fucking yourself and probably from the anger of being interrupted.

He loved it.

“No, I was- uh,” you took some steps backwards and sideways to welcome him inside. “Working out,” you finished.

Nyx came meowing towards him and he knelt down, taking her in his arms. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing didn’t leave anything to the imagination and you wondered if he also has been working out - actually working out - prior coming to have those huge and pumped biceps.

“Hello, hello,” he nuzzled his nose into Nyx’s and you smiled a little, taking the beer bag and putting it down on the low coffee table you added to the decor some days ago.

“Working out?” you heard him ask after a cuddling moment with your kitty (the real cat).

“Yeah,” you turned around, one hand on your lower back, one to scratch your forehead. “You know,” you shrugged, “Youtube pilates and such.”

Chris nodded, joining you near the couch and letting Nyx down.

“That’s great. I’ve never tried Pilates before.”

“Are you flexible?”

He thought about it. “A decent amount. Not too much I guess, though? Are you?”

You gulped at the question, your brain still hazy witht he images your dirty mind created for you some minutes ago.

“Yes? I think so,” you sat down.

He hummed as if your frantic state amused him. Well, you were probably very amusing to look at. A whole mess. And you wondered why he didn’t give you his number? Yeah.

He looked around and you thought it was because he wanted to comment on the new decor. “Do you not use any mat?”

You were starstruck. “A mat?”

Chris looked at you. “Mat.”

“Oh, it’s uh, in my bedroom.”

He nodded.

“Do you just go to the gym?” you really wanted to move the subject away from you.

He leaned forward to grab the bag and take out two beers.

“Yup. I do mostly weights.”

“Of course,” you commented.

Chris opened the bottles of beer on each other - which you actually found sexy - and handed you one. You jolted in place when you felt the cold glass on the back of your hand.

“You seem very jumpy? Is everything okay?” he murmured.

You took the bottle and chugged. “Yes.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was talking, something interesting even, but you couldn’t concentrate. You didn’t know if it was the fact you’ve been masturbating to the thought of him ten minutes ago, or if he somehow was more fine than usual that night, or if you just were getting heated up because of the beer you kept downing like water, but you really wanted to just jump on him.

He kept moving on the couch, backwards, forwards, side, adjusting his hair, his shorts. He was pissing you off because your eyes were forced to glue on either his arms, or his rib muscles, or his hands, or his lips, or his eyes, or his jaw, or his-

“Right?” he asked again.

“Huh?” you woke up.

Chris chuckled. “Where are you?”

“I am here,” you replied, hand moving the bottle to your mouth in an already repetitive movement.

Chris stopped the bottle by placing his hand on top of yours.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He opened his mouth.

Chris smiled. “It’s empty.”

You looked down and you realized it was indeed missing any beer. But you couldn’t let go because his hand was still holding yours.

You looked at him. “Can I have another one?”

His eyes analyzed your features as if to understand if you were drunk or not. Perhaps he decided that you weren’t. “Yes,” he replied.

You waited.

He didn’t move his hand.

“Then let go?” you tried.

Chris let his fingers slide down the back of your hand then forearm before leaning in and grabbing the full bottle on the table in front of you.

The swif of his cologne made you swallow dryly. He was so close. He was too close. He was too close for your tipsy and horny brain.

His touch, the second time, gave you goosebumps and, fuck, he noticed. His gazed trailed your nude arms as he exchanged the bottles in your hand and your gaze was on his face. So you noticed the languid look on it, as he slowly traced your skin with the fingertip of his ring finger, from elbow to shoulder.

You shivered and the goosebumps got more severe.

“You’re very sensitive,” he murmured.

___

He was having fun.

He was having so much fucking fun.

You eyes looked wide, staring down his finger touching your skin like that. Your quivering eyes, your trembling lower lip, your quick breath. Was he being too evil?

He touched your beer with his and took a sip.

The sound woke you from your trance and you imitated him, licking the opening of the bottle with your tongue for a moment before pressing your lips into it to drink.

Was that a habit of yours or were you also set on making him go crazy that night?

“What were you talking about before?” you resumed the conversation.

Chris chuckled. “So you weren’t listening.”

You lifted your legs on the couch to sit on them. Your knees was touching his thigh and he leaned into it instead of moving away. He was as close as to rest his arm on your legs. Perhaps he should do that.

“I got lost, sorry,” you smiled back.

Chris took another sip and indeed rested his arm on your legs. You didn’t flinch.

But when his hand naturally cupped one of your knees, the nude thigh in your pajama shorts got covered in goosebumps again.

His chuckle was bright as he laughed at you. “You’re very very sensitive.”

You rolled your eyes with an amused scoff. “It’s normal. Everyone is like this.”

“I am not,” he challenged you.

Would you fall in the trap?

Your eyes tightened in a knowing smile taking another sip. Perhaps you were drinking too much too quickly but he wasn’t going to be the boss of you.

“I believe you,” you simply said.

Chris let his tongue poke his cheek in a visible display of disappointment and he loved the way you giggled.

And when you suddenly dragged your nails on his bicep he was ashamed to realize he probably needed a pillow to cover his crotch.

Of course you picked on that. Of course you had to.

“Is this all it takes?” you voice got suddenly low and sensual, confident as you haven’t been that night. You were having fun now.

Chris didn’t let himself lose. Not even when you reached his nape and you slowly played with the short hairs of his undercut.

His gaze never broke the connection with yours. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been bricked up since I heared your whimpers on the other side of the wall.”

Your hand stopped and your face fell. It wasn’t anger or annoyance. It wasn’t even shame as he thought. It was arousal and shock. Maybe even relief.

Chris openes his mouth to add something else. Were you going to hit him?

And when you suddenly leaned in he was almost sure you were going to give him a good slap but he found the air knocked out of his lungs instead thanks to your lips of his.

One second he was looking at you and the other he was grabbing your ass as your straddled his thighs. You hummed into the kiss and he imitated you, one palm to lift your shorts up and the other to rub at your back until reaching the back of your neck.

You were soft and warm. So soft and warm and he wanted you closer to him so he pulled towards himself until he felt your body flush on his. His fingers frantically came in the front, to feel better what he was feeling with his chest, your braless breast, first on top of your shirt then, slowly, underneath it.

___

You shivered and your broke the kiss to moan against his lips. His hands were warm and your breasts too tender. Your blood was buzzing like electricity under your skin and you desperately wanted Chris to touch every inch of it with whatever he wanted to - his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue.

Chris, the neighbour.

The neighbour that attached that damned plump lips to your neck now making you flutter your eyelashes. He wasn’t even doing that much. He wasn’t basically doing anything. Then why were you already moaning? Why were you feeling on the verge of shaking in his arms? Fuck, those arms that were wrapped around your waist, so huge and too strong for your own good. Would he throw you on the couch soon with those? You let your head fall back as he traveled down your throat, one hand to keep you in place, the other groping at the soft flesh of your ass. Then his mouth, his open wet and hot mouth, felt your cleavage and you couldn’t see anymore.

You whispered his name, or you moaned it, you weren't sure, and you felt his hard cock flinch underneath you. You hummed, hands grabbing at his hair, pushing his fringe back to see his eyes. They were sharp looking up at you from the swell of your breasts. Just undress me already, you wanted to yell, but you knew he enjoyed taking his time with you.

___

Chris needed all of his self control to not reach down and feel if you were as plump and wet as he imagined. He could tell you were on the verge to beg. You were almost there. He really really really wanted to hear your pretty voice use your polite words. Just a single please would be enough for him. So he waited. He let his tongue tease your hard nipples on top of the shirt, elliciting the sweetest moans from you and the way you rolled your eyes back made him wonder if that guy you fucked was completely clueless or if Chris was just too skilled.

But Chris could also tell he wouldn’t break you that easily the moment you let your hips down even more and rocked them once from the base of his cock to the tip.

His throat growled without him wanting too and the sound made you pull his hair a bit to make him look at you. Your eyes were presenting a challenge and he smiled teasingly on top of your chest.

Okay, he thought, and in a single movement your shirt was off of you and on the floor somewhere across the room.

He thought having you half naked sitting on him would add to your mental fuckery but he didn’t take into consideration what the view would do to him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, cupping your breasts as if seeing a pair for the first time. He gulped and looked back up right when you leaned in to kiss him deeply, arms around his neck and tongue inside his mouth.

He lost it. He completely lost it, feeling your nude back with his knuckles, and you scent, god, it inebriated him so much that he was the one on the verge to beg you for something, anything, just fucking anything.

___

You felt like mush. You felt like putty in his arms, like nothing. And when you broke off the kiss to breathe and he went back to torture your nipples, this time no fabric to rub on it but just his delicious and wet tongue on them, you felt like cumming. You actually felt like cumming. You felt like hiding your face and scream. It was already too much. It was already too much and you weren’t sure if you were thinking it or saying it out loud but Chris increased his pace, kitty licking your buds in ways that made you dig your nails into his shoulders. He didn’t even wince, he didn’t even care, teeth gently biting on the hard but tender skin and stretching it, before popping in as much as he could fit and suck until his dimples showed.

Oh, it was sinful, the movement, the sound, your noises, his heavy breath, his cock so fucking hard right underneath you. You wanted more. You needed more, the begging word lingering on the tip of your tongue.

“Shit,” you said instead, a high pitched and messy moan escaping your chest. Chris hummed deeply against your chest and his arms tightened around your body as you leaned forwards and felt your body spasm uncontrollably.

You heard his chuckle from a haze as you slowly calmed down your breath.

“Adding making woman cum just from nipple stimulation to my CV now,” he giggled, his pretty eyes right above your cleavage. You smiled, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe he was giggling after doing all that to you.

“Stupid. It’s just my body being sensitive, as you said.”

“And yet, that motherfucker didn’t make you cum even by accident,” his tone changed completely.

His jealousy gave you butterflies - you were kinda ashamed to admit - and all you could do was leaning down to give him a smiley kiss, and it somehow tasted sweet and gentle. His cock didn’t feel sweet though and when he slowly pushed his hips upwards his tip bumped into your sensitive clit making you jolt. Then again, and again, until you had to let his plumped lips go and breathe on them instead.

“Chris-”

“Yeah?” he murmured back.

You whined, foreheads pressing together.

___

Chris thought he was going to just cream his pants. He thought that was it, that was the moment. Because besides creaming one’s pants, he didn’t think what other appropriate reaction one could have seeing you slide down from his legs onto your knees on the floor and rest your hands on his thighs with that needy expression of yours.

“Oh, fuck,” he swallowed, one hand to messy his hair even more.

The corner of your lips lifted in a confident and amused smile. “You think I can add making man cum just from rubbing his thighs in my CV?”

“Oh, I fucking think so,” Chris replied with somewhat of a choked and amused voice. Your warm palms were doing just as you said, touching him on top of his thin shorts, until reaching underneath them for a moment and feelin his boiling skin. The print of his cock was so obvious that you wondered if it was painful so you leaned down and just touched alongside of it with your nose, making his muscles twitch, then with your open mouth, warming him through the fabric.

Chris let his head fall back for a moment, unable to keep his eyes open, then he looked back down, not wanting to lose a single movement of yours.

You looked up at him from underneath your lashes and you smiled, almost purring, letting your tongue wet his shorts ever so slightly.

“I know what you want,” he smiled with a heavy breath.

Your head tilted to the side in a silent oh really?

He hummed. “But I don’t have issues with begging. So, please,” he added in a whisper, “please please I need to feel your mouth on me.”

___

You felt a new wave of wetness pool inside your panties.

How could a man look so hot begging for it? He drove you crazy. You thought you were breaking him but he broke you instead.

He was pissing you off. He was pissing you off so badly.

“Shirt off,” you lifted yourself and he chuckled, obeying you. The way he reached back and took it off by the collar made your knees weak and they weren’t strong in the first place.

“Better?” he leaned back again.

You felt your head spin. You felt like about to choke on your breath or spit or just air. One couldn’t just look like that.

So all you could do was just to lean in, tasting that immaculate skin with your lips on his neck, feeling his collarbones, then open mouth on his chest, then finally you bit the tender but firm skin right above his waistband, close to the few veins disappearing into his underwear.

He exhaled deeply, then he inhaled sharply, and finally he whimpered, a single sound, sweet but husky. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to hear all of it. And when you felt satisfied with the mark you left on his pristine stomach, you grabbed his waistband and pulled.

“Lift your hips for me, princess,” you smiled and Chris let out an incredulous offended giggle.

Yet he did as you ordered, letting you take a moment to try and understand in which hole you could fit all of that.

___

“I’m sure you could make me cum only by looking at it, but I would appreciate a little help too,” Chris let his hands caress your jaw and then he slowly dug them into your hair.

You looked up at him then back down. “Shit,” you murmured, rubbing your thighs together.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed to him and it just made his cock jump. You looked gorgeous. He thought you looked like a wet dream but none of his wet dreams looked that good.

He exhaled with a groan as you finally let your tongue travel from the base up his tip, feeling the most prominent vein, until tasting the pre-cum. Then you grabbed it, lazily pumping as much as you could, tongue teasing his slit before swallowing half of it in one go and making him choke on air.

“That’s- this is-” he mumbled, eyes fluttering and hands imperceptibly shaking.

You hummed a question but just sucked not even letting him process anything else besides the feeling of your perfectly wet and warm mouth around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers pulling on your hair a bit the moment you started to bob your head even lower until almost touching the base with your nose. The gag sounds made him dizzy and he relaxed the grip as you let his cock out with a gasp, some saliva strings attached to the tip. You broke them with your tongue and started to eagerly sucking on his tip again, lungs trying to take in as much air as you could before diving in again.

Chris was a sinner but if that was what heaven felt like he thought he might start repenting soon.

“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured with a husky voice. He was losing it completely just like the life you were sucking out of him. “So so so fucking good,” he let his head fall back again as you hummed pleased around his cock, the short eye contact making him close his eyes, feeling the pleasure pooling too quickly inside of him. You gagged again, this time for longer and your jaw relaxed, taking him deep inside your throat again and again and again until he pulled away, his thighs shaking and his breath completely irregular.

You looked at him disappointed and a bit mad. “-m cumming, are you sure-” Chris explained with a broken voice and you huffed, taking him back inside your mouth and making him groan as if he was almost in pain.

“Shit shit shit,” he repeated like a mantra, relasing so fast and so intensely that he almost missed the way your throat moved as you swallowed almost to the last drop, letting the last sprut land on your extended tongue instead and cheek.

Chris exhaled as if he just finished running a marathon and relaxed his muscles. His fingers collected the drops of cum from your face and you smiled, grabbing his wrist with your hands and directed it towards your face.

“God,” he gulped dryly, watching you suck on his fingers and coating them with your spit. The view was almost more erotic than the one he just witnesses and he wondered if he should add a third one inside your mouth to get them all ready for what he wanted to do next.

___

One moment you were between his thick thighs, and the other you were staring at the ceiling, your back flush on the couch.

You couldn’t make sense of when or how he grabbed you and pushed you into it, the only thing you could concentrate on being the feeling of his kisses on your stomach.

And not only. The way his neck chain felt rubbing on your skin with every inch he touched with his mouth. And when you felt it, cold, sliding between your legs, you inhaled deeply, hands trying to reach and grab anything to anchor you to reality. But Chris grabbed your wrists and pinned them down to your sides. Then he pulled your shorts and underwear down your legs with a harsh pull.

“No princess for me?” you joked, trying to fight the sudden feeling of being completely naked and very much open-legged in front of him.

Chris leaned down until almost lying on you and you welcomed his naked body between your thighs, feeling how deliciously he started to get hard again only by pleasuring you.

“Princess? But you want to be fucked like a whore, don’t you?” he teased your lower lip with his teeth and you whimpered at the sweet tone but dirty words.

“Yeah?” he asked again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, reaching for your ear and languidly tracing its shape with his tongue.

You exhaled, caressing his wide back, feeling his muscles flex as he came back towards your mouth.

“Words, princess,” his voice was husky and deep and you felt it in your chest going down to your core.

“Yes, yeah,” you breathed out. Chris smiled pleased and the glint in his eyes got darker as he disappeared from your sight and pulled you by the hips towards his mouth.

You felt like melting. You felt like melting and disappearing into his touch.

Yeah, no, it was even better than you’ve imagined. You thought you knew how his velvety tongue would feel like but no, you didn’t. You had no fucking idea, not a single clue. And in that momen you realized you were so glad for not having a third neighbour because the way Chris got you moaning and swearing was probably unbearable. He just flicked your clit, and sucked on it, then kitty licked, then let his tongue flat on you, going down to collect all drops. Again and again. It was so dirty, it was so wet and sinful, it made you unable to keep your eyes open. He fucked you with his tongue, sliding it in with a groan, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better you felt his finger making space for itself. You gasped and stared down, catching a glimpse of Chris’ almost black eyes under his fringe, and the white of his teeth, like about to devour his prey. He pumped his finger in and out, tongue back to torture you, and when he added the second one and curved them towards the sweetest spots, your spine curved as well, and you frantically grabbed at whatever you could reach. Chris kept you down with the other arm, snaking it around your thigh and pressing his palm on your lower stomach. The pressure made you choke, heighteing the pleasure until something broke inside of you and you lost control of your own body and mind, shaking so violently that you couldn’t see anymore. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers rhythmically after another gasp of air, and you realized he was shushing you, lazily kissing your thigh, and whispering quiet praises.

Then he came forwards, his bicep full and his forearm flexed keeping his body weight, the other hand still buried inside of you.

You reached up and wiped his chin and lower lip and he smiled, catching it with his mouth and slowly sucking on it.

The mewl that escaped your throat at the view made him chuckle so we wanted more, finally sliding his fingers out and shoving them inside your mouth.

The kiss that came afterwards was slow and deep, your tastes mixing together in it, his body resting on top of yours, caging you down with his weight.

___

Chris hasn’t felt that aroused in a very long time. Although your whole body was doing the conversation, your touch, your eyes, the way you’d pull him into the kiss, your legs around his waist, he really really wanted to hear you beg him for it, beg him for more, beg him to not stop.

You didn’t stop kissing him and he was grateful for your almost identical apartments because eyes closed and hands busy groping at your ass as he carried you in his arms he had to only rely on his instincts to find the bedroom and drop you on the bed. The view of you sprawled on it the way he has imagined many times in the intimacy of his dark room made him exhale with his mouth and when you lifted one foot, gently rubbing it on his abdomen he lifted one amused eyebrow, desperately wanting to bite on you. So he did just that, trying to suck on the tender skin on your hip to get you a matching spot to the one you gave him. Your gentle but amused whimpers made his cock throb almost painfully and he lied fully on his stomach, his thumb lazily pressing into your clit in circular motions. Your body kept jolting ever so slightly as he peppered kisses all over your abdomen, still sensitive, and your hands in his hair made his spine shiver deliciously.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you.

Slowly and deeply, just like the kiss he gave you, caging you under his body.

He wanted to see your expression as he reached down and lined himself up to you. He wasn’t disappointed, the gasp you let out, feeling him slide inside of you mirroring his.

Chris needed to close his eyes for a moment, lips rubbing on yours, and his nostrils filled with your perfume.

And when he opened them, your blowned out pupils, your open wet lips, your eyebrows curved in a way that communicated lust and desire made him push himself in until a single choked sound escaped from your tender throat. He did it again, and again, slowly, making you feel every bit of him, stretching you out in ways that made you wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze with broken breath.

___

It was overwhelming. So much and so full. But you needed more. You wanted him deeper. You wanted him everywhere.

“Faster,” you whimpered, arms abandoned on the pillow you pushed your head into as he obeyed, snapping his hips into you. The louder moans filled the room and you extended your throat. Chris leaned down to bite on it, the sounds of his groans reverberating inside your chest. His hands reached yours, pulling them near the headboard and pinning them down, making you bite your lips at how you let yourself be fully to his mercy. He pushed his hand on your wrists more, the other sliding back down to your hips to keep you in place.

The bed started to creak and the sheets wrinkled underneath your bodies. A thin layer of sweat shone on his silky skin and you desperately wanted to feel him. You tugged at his hand but he smirked, pressing you down again.

A single disappointed mmh made space between your whimpers.

He clicked his tongue. “You want to touch me?”

The breathy yes visibly amused him too much.

“Ask nicely,” he whispered on your lips, his hips never stopping to turn your brain into a mush.

Your reply was a dry chuckle and he caught it with his mouth transforming it into a growl.

“I see you’re not fucked up enough,” he said in a second your wrists were free, but so was your body as he got up on his knees, sliding out of you.

Your whimper of protest at the sudden emptiness made him exhale satisfied.

“Come on,” you eyed him and his beautifully arrogant face.

“What?” he turned his head to the side in that little play. His cock was heavy resting on you as he slowly slid it on top of your clit, not enough to give you any relief but enough to keep you on that edge he desperately wanted you to be on.

You extended your arms, almost touching his chest, but he grabbed your wrists again keeping them together as he kept playing with you.

“Say it,” he purred. Your hips twitched at that delicious torture. “Say what you want.”

“I want you inside of me,” you opened your eyes. “I want you to make me cum,” you tried. Maybe you’d break him. Maybe you’d make him lose control.

But he just smirked. “Yeah?”

You hummed back, your fingers shaking in the air.

“What else?”

Your bit your lower lip. “Fuck, Chris-” you skin shivered.

“Just say it, come on, and I’ll fuck you the way you want me to,” his tip teased your sensitive clit deliciously as a little taste of what he would be able to do to you.

“Say it, baby,” he added and the petname threw you off completely, making you grit your teeth.

“Please,” you voice was faint.

Chris’ cock twitched and his grip on your wrist tightened.

“Louder,” he ordered and you whined as a reply.

“Please,” you repeated. “Please please plea-”

Your words got choked as he slammed into you, so deeply to cut your airflow completely. And when he slid out and thrust into you again you tried to breathe but it felt impossible. Your pants got louder and louder matching the intensity of the skin slapping and wet sounds. Chris pulled you even closer by your hips, reaching your throat and resting his warm palm on it to keep you in place.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,” he murmured.

“I want- to see,” you admitted and Chris stopped, just the insinuated offer making him close to finish.

He grunted and slipped out, grabbing your sides and turning you on your stomach with a single movement. You exhaled at his manhandling and when he grabbed your arms, pulling you up on your knees to face the mirror on the right, he felt your body shiver at the view, your eyes drinking in your own body then his figure right behind it.

"You want to know how you look in my arms?” he whispered in your ear, snaking his hands on your body. “You want this pretty hole stretched and filled with cum?”

Your back curved and he could see in the mirror the way your eyes almost rolled back when he slid back inside of you.

“Yes,” you whimpered back.

“That’s why you’ve been so loud, weren’t you?” He thrusted slowly and deeply.

“Yes,” you added, with a choked sound.

The realization made Chris completely dizzy. “You knew I’ve been listening?”

“I was hoping you were.”

“And what were you thinking of while burying your toys inside your cunt?”

You rolled your eyes back, his movement inside of you making it hard to speak. “About this,” you whined, one palm tentatively reaching back to touch his abdomen but you had no more force.

You fell forwards on your hands, letting him grab your waist and fuck into you faster. Between your lashes you could see his body, tall on his knees, and his gritted teeth behind those gorgeous full lips. It was too much. His touch, his strokes, his scent all around you, his voice - deep and breathy - made you dig your nails into the sheets, twirling them as hard as he thrusted inside of you.

“-m close, Chris, I am-” you tried to speak, voice muffled by the sheets you were burying your face into. The man leaned down to grab your chin and lift your head up. You exhaled, staring at your teary eyes and fucked up gaze. “Cum for me,” he grunted in your ear and you didn’t see anymore.

Your body seized up and the sounds got drowned as you screamed. Chris’ hands trembled in your peripheral vision and the feeling of his cum filling up your pulsating cunt made you moan again dragging it until you could hear again. His breath was heavy and his voice hoarse as he whispered your name laced with swears.

Your lifted your gaze in the mirror, drinking in the way he licked his lips, eyes trained on your ass as he slid his cock out. He looked at you under his eyelashed and grinned, his palm bouncing on one cheek as he gave it a good spank.

You inhaled then gasped as he knocked your thighs together and slid back in slowly.

“Chris, I’m too sensitive-” you choked and he exhaled.

“Me too,” he grunted. “You can give me another one, right, baby?”

His voice made your skin shiver with goosebumps as he leaned down to pepper wet kisses on your cheek and jaw. “Or I can just stop,” he added, stilling his hips.

You whined. “Don’t stop-please-”

Chris hummed and moved slowly, fucking his cum back in. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You let your face back down and moaned, jolts of electricity running down your veins at the overstimulation.

“Look at me,” he ordered. “If you stop looking at me I’ll stop.”

His name excaped your throat like a sob. You didn’t want him to stop but you had no force to keep your head up.

Chris’s glistening body leaned down again as much as to reach our head. His fingers were delicate but firm when he grabbed your hair and pulled up, his hips picking up the pace.

You moaned, keeping your neck extended in his hold, the swears coming out of your mouth matching his. The heat in your abdomen felt like an explosion about to happen and when he felt your walls clench he grabbed your elbows again, pulling you up on your knees to wrap his arms all around you. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his hands kept groping at everything until his knuckles would get white. They rested on your breasts, the other to hold your waist, and you grabbed his veiny forearms, open mouth in an initial silent scream.

“That’s right, that’s it, cum baby-” he grunted, his voice caressing your shivering skin.

Your body spasmed and if it weren’t for his hold you would have heavily fallen on the bed. Chris stilled for one moment, groaning as you clenched on him, but then he thrusted again, fucking you through your orgasm until you heard the choke on his breath against your ear, releasing into your for the second time.

You didn’t know for how long you remained both still, catching your shaky breaths, gazes talking to each other because you had no more words. But the moment he pulled out you watched, his cum sliding down your thigh and pooling on the sheets underneath you.

___

Chris’ chest felt the perfect amount of hard and soft. You nuzzled into it even more and your hair tickled him. He giggled, wrapping your body even tighter.

“I’ll get you new sheets,” he murmured.

“I can get the stain out,” you murmured back. Your eyelids felt heavy after his sweet praises and the delicate touch of his hands cleaning you with a soft warm towel. You didn’t even realize how thirsty you were until he brought a glass of water and he laughed watching you down it. Then he got you another one. Then he gave you a kiss. And another one. And he giggled again when you pulled him down on top of you, making out slowly like you had all the time in the world.

And being like that in his arms you did feel like you had all the time in the world.

“I’ll just get you new sheets,” he argued.

“If you need to get me sheets everytime you fuck me you’ll go bankrupt.”

Chris remained silent so you lifted your head to look at him in the face. He was grinning.

“Is that-” he started.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s an invitation to do this again.”

Chris cupped your face with his palm. “I love how you look when you’re embarrassed.”

You chuckled dryly. “I am not embarrassed!”

Chris nodded. “Hm-mh.”

You puffed and sat up, then turned on the other side. Chris only giggled and wrapped your body again, pulling your back towards his chest. The little smile you had on your face was visible to him in the mirror in front of you and he kissed your neck once before falling asleep with you.

___

In the morning you both used a single washing machine.

“Busy and enjoyable night, neighbour?” he leaned on the door suddenly as you finished loading it. The kisses he kept giving you in the elevator made your breath heavy.

You rolled your eyes amused at his little theatrical act. “Yes.”

He hummed getting closer and you clicked the Power button.

Chris grabbed your hips loosely and pushed you towards it until your ass hit the low vibrating machine.

“He made me cum many times,” you whispered against his lips. They were curved in a smile. His eyebrows shot up as if surprised.

“Oh, really?”

“Hm-hm,” you replied then gasped as he suddenly grabbed you and lifted you on the washing machine. His body naturally slid between your thighs and the way his fingertips trailed on them made you almost mewl.

“Chris-” you tried to stop him as his mouth fell on your tender neck.

“Yeah?”

“Not here,” you murmured.

The washing machine started to rumble underneath you and you exhaled.

His eyes shone with mischief. “Why, you’re afraid some neighbour is going to hear you? Shouldn’t that turn you on?”

“I only wanted you to hear me.”

“Well, if I gag you no one will hear a thing,” he whispered.

You gulped and your thighs impercetibly tightened around his waist. The vibrations of the washing machine kept sending jolts of pleasure up your bust.

“What if someone comes in suddenly?”

“We’ll be quick,” he peppered kissed on your neck. “But I can also stop.”

His gaze was dark and twinkly with lust. Your eyelids were getting heavy.

“No, don’t stop. Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

#bangchan smut #stray kids smut #bangchan fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #bangchan stray kids smut #neighbours au

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Note

Yoongi fingering u till u squirrttttttt

my god, anon. i don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a short lil drabble like the rest and then..... that that live yoongi happened and i. uh. my brain short-circuited. the thirst for this man overtook me. i think i just wrote the nastiest porn of my whole career lmao.

so anyway uhhhhhh - HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤪

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 4.8k DO NOT FUCKING @ ME contains: my first ever OT7 scene :') ft. an incredibly dumb conversation abt squirting, best friend's friend to lovers (? idk what else to call it lmao), squirt god min yoongi (yes that's a warning), yoongi is in his that that live outfit bc i'm a menace to society, a lil bit of edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and obv. a whoooole lot of tongue and finger fucking and SQUIRTING 💦💦💦

“Remember that girl I took home last night?”

You just know Taehyung is about to say something gross by the look in his eye, the way he bites down on the edge of his red solo cup as he glances around the circle of his friends.

Well, his friends and you. There’s a clear distinction.

A few heads nod, shoulders shrug. You brace yourself.

“Fucking geyser, I’m serious. Soaked my whole bed. I had to sleep on the couch.”

Hoseok’s loud cackle rings in your ears, and he has to cling to Jimin’s arm to stay upright, clearly already well past tipsy. “I was wondering why you were washing your sheets! That’s typically a once-a-year activity for you, Taehyung-ah!”

You make sure Seokjin doesn’t miss the death glare that you aim in his direction. He dragged you to this stupid party, said otherwise he’d spend the whole time in the corner reading webtoons on his phone. And now you have to tolerate the absolute fuckery of his nasty friends.

He grimaces a silent apology back at you, bringing one hand up to smack Tae firmly on the back of the head.

“She peed?!” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he pauses with his own drink halfway to his mouth.

Everyone reacts at once: Hoseok quite literally doubles over, Taehyung fights to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, Jimin gives an aggressive side-eye, Seokjin covers his face with his hand. Even Yoongi reacts, smiling a rare wide smile, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.

Namjoon takes the educational opportunity, clapping a hand firmly to Jungkook’s back. “Do you know what squirting is?”

You watch as Jungkook’s eyes flit across the circle. “I thought it was pee,” he admits, voice a little quieter this time.

“You are so fucking dumb,” Jimin says, shooting Jungkook a look of utter disgust. Hoseok is literally on the floor at this point.

“It’s, uh…” Namjoon makes a face as he searches for the right words. “Female ejaculate.”

“Girl cum?” Jungkook translates.

“I don’t care if it was piss, it was fucking hot,” Taehyung says as he downs the last of his drink.

“You’re disgusting,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head as he offers a hand to help Hoseok to his feet. Taehyung sticks his tongue out, waggling it side-to-side, which just sends Hoseok right back down again with another peal of laughter.

“I’ve never hooked up with a squirter,” Jungkook says softly, like he’s a little disappointed.

You open your mouth to speak up, as the only person with a vagina currently partaking in the conversation, but Yoongi beats you to it. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”

His words surprise you for a second, but you shake it off and continue. “Not every girl can squirt. Most can’t.” You shrug slightly.

“That’s not true,” Yoongi counters, and you whip your head to look at him.

“What the fuck do you know, Min Yoongi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don’t know why Seokjin thought it was a good idea to bring you around his friends, when he knows you have no filter.

Yoongi raises a hand, as if to signal that he’s not trying to fight. “I’m just saying. Once you learn what to do, anyone can get there. Just takes some patience. And a lot of foreplay. But I’ve never not made a girl squirt.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’ve never squirted.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you’ve set yourself up for, and you have to fight the urge to clap a hand over your mouth. The same response ripples through the group a millisecond later: eyes widening, lips pursing in silent expressions of shock.

“I think I need another drink– should we all go?” Namjoon asks, extremely unsubtle.

Before you can scramble to even think, let alone say anything, he’s got his arms around Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders and is shoving them towards the kitchen. Seokjin and Jimin work together to peel Hoseok off the floor and quickly follow.

Which just leaves you, Yoongi, and a very interesting proposition.

“So, are we doing this?” You ask bluntly.

Yoongi shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t act all shy now, squirt god!” He exhales a soft laugh, and you gesture to the stairs. “Lead the way.”

It’s only once you’re perched on the end of his bed, eyes roving over the minimal, clean space of his room, that your nerves start to betray you. Yoongi sets his drink on the dresser next to yours, then drops down beside you.

You stare at the floor, unsure of what to do next, vaguely aware of his bent knees poking out of the large holes in his light wash jeans. He gently rests a hand on your thigh, and you’re wound up enough that you flinch at his touch.

“We seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask, feigning ignorance and trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Might have something to do with the fact that this is the first one-on-one conversation we’ve ever had.”

You meet his gaze, a little surprised by the open expression on his face. You’ve always seen him as so reserved. “You don’t exactly say much.”

Yoongi shrugs like he can’t disagree. “Hard to get a word in with those guys sometimes.” He pauses, like he’s debating whether or not to keep talking, then continues. “And I figured Jin was playing some long game with you, so I was trying to be respectful.”

You make a face of sheer disbelief. “What?! Seokjin is my best friend, Yoongi. Period, end of sentence. It’s not like that and never has been.”

“Huh.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t read the expression on his face. You turn towards Yoongi, pulling one bent leg up on the bed to fully face him. “What was that noise supposed to mean?”

“That’s just… interesting.”

“Stop being cagey.” You drive a finger into his side and he squirms a little. “What’s interesting?” Does he know something about Seokjin that he’s keeping from you?

“Well, I was clearly operating under false pretenses. Otherwise I probably would’ve acted differently around you.”

“Differently how?” You quickly chase his vague statement, pushing him, trying to understand. Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately, but the bed shifts as he mirrors your position, turning to open himself up to you. “What would you have done, Yoongi?” You try again, getting frustrated.

A shiver runs down your spine as he brings a hand to gently cup your jaw, his touch feather-light. His thumb strokes over your cheek and you swear your heartbeat falters.

“This,” he says simply, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. And then he brings his mouth to yours.

His lips are soft and warm as they brush over yours, if a little tentative, like he expects you to pull away at any second. But the heat of his mouth ignites a spark in your belly that you’re suddenly desperate for more of.

You move your mouth against his, chasing the feeling as you bring a hand to the nape of his neck. Your fingers wind through his dark hair– you’d noticed when he walked in the door tonight how long it’s gotten, had thought absent-mindedly to yourself that it looked good on him.

Your head spins. Min fucking Yoongi. How is this real life? You’d honestly never thought twice about him– just lumped him in with the rest of Seokjin’s dumb friends. It’s starting to occur to you that maybe overlooking him was a mistake.

That suspicion is confirmed when he slips his tongue into your mouth to slide expertly over yours.

You run your other hand up his chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his overshirt, then the smooth cotton of the tank top beneath it. The wet heat of his mouth is already making you dizzy.

Yoongi brings a hand to the small of your back, moving the other from your jaw down to meet it. He shifts a little, but he doesn’t break away from you, and you gasp softly into his mouth when both hands drop to your ass to pull you into his lap in one smooth motion. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of him, your hips settling on top of his.

He kisses you for a second longer, tongue stroking over yours deftly enough that you can barely suppress the whimper it works out of you. Then he finally pulls back to glance up at you. His lips are full and pink, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. The unbuttoned linen shirt he’s wearing has slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin and solid muscle.

There’s a look on his face, mouth dropped open slightly, like he can’t quite believe this is really happening. You can relate.

“Still want to do this?” Yoongi asks quietly, voice still low and a little hoarse now. His hands are pressed to your hips, thumbs tracing light patterns over the fabric of your jeans.

You can hardly find your voice to speak– when the word comes out, it’s a whisper, and one you can’t say emphatically enough. “Yes.”

He tilts his head up towards you and your lips find his, needier this time. There’s an undeniable ache in your core now, desire spreading through you like a licking flame. Yoongi’s hands start to move over your back, dragging the hem of your shirt up, and you break away from him only for as long as it takes to peel it over your head. You press your mouth to his again before the fabric has even hit his bedroom floor.

Yoongi’s kisses are sloppier now, tongue tasting yours with added urgency, momentarily rendering you breathless. You follow his lead, hands grasping to push his overshirt down his arms, then reaching to tug at his tank top. It’s like you can’t move fast enough– you’re shaking a little as he leans back, raising his arms to allow you to pull it off. You feel the heat of his touch at the center of your spine, and then he’s slipping your bra off, too, everything tossed off the edge of the bed to join your shirt.

The brush of his hands over your bare skin, running up the curve from your hip to your waist, is enough to make you shiver under his palms, nipples tightening.

Yoongi licks his lips as his eyes roam appreciatively over your body, but then his gaze meets yours again, and in a way this moment of anticipation feels more intimate than anything you’ve done tonight. You in his lap, both of you naked from the waist up, faces flushed with heat and want. Hovering at the precipice of something you don’t have words for.

“Lay down for me,” he says quietly. The darkness of his voice thrums through you.

You do as he says, thighs shaking slightly as you slide off of him and move to settle against the soft pillows with a slow inhale. You can only watch, dazed, as Yoongi gets to his feet– you swallow hard at the sound of his belt hitting the floor. He slips out of his ripped jeans, down to just his black boxer-briefs.

When he crawls up the bed to join you, you’re transfixed by the way his silver necklaces dangle, catching the dim lamplight. He kneels to one side of you, hands coming to unbutton the fly of your jeans and push them down your thighs. You do the rest, peeling them all the way off and tossing them to the floor.

His hands slide up your thighs, one encouraging your legs apart while the other rubs gently back and forth, his touch sending sparks through you. You can feel your heartbeat at the center of your ribcage, swear you can see it in the rise and fall of your chest as you glance up at him looking down over you.

“Stop me if you’re going to come, okay?”

You nod your understanding, but he must be able to read the confusion painted on your face. He shifts up the bed to lean over you, his breath ghosting along the shell of your ear.

“Save it for me, and I’ll show you what that pussy can do.”

Yoongi chases the words with a languid stripe licked up your neck, and it’s enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Never in your life has a man preemptively warned you to not come. Most of them have struggled to make it happen at all. You can’t help but wonder if you really did underestimate Yoongi’s abilities.

It certainly feels that way as he continues to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, bringing one hand to gently cup and massage your breast as he goes, the pad of his thumb circling your nipple. His mouth catches up to his touch, and he sucks in the bud of that breast while his hand moves to work the other just the same.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you breathe.

Everything he’s doing is intoxicating, enough that there’s now a steady pulse emanating from between your legs. When he shifts to pull your other breast into his mouth, tongue swirling over your nipple in a way that makes you whimper and arch into him, he drops one of his legs down onto the mattress between your thighs.

You take advantage of the opportunity presented to you, thighs squeezing and hips canting up to drag your core over the smooth muscle of his leg, desperate for contact, for friction. Yoongi releases your nipple from between his teeth, giving a self-satisfied hum that you can feel buzz in his throat against your skin.

“Getting worked up already?” His words are punctuated by the kisses he trails down the valley between your breasts. “Keep going,” he urges.

Your mind is swimming with arousal, and each pass of your cunt over his thigh is enough to further dampen your now soaked-through panties. You’re not sure how much more worked up you could get. But Yoongi is clearly determined to find your limit.

When he shifts to move his mouth further down your body, he quickly replaces the thigh you’ve been grinding into with his hand, cupping over your center, his whole palm rubbing circles into the lace of your panties that make your clit twitch. You writhe under him as he sucks a mark into your hip bone, pulling sounds out of you: a mixture of heady groans at the welcome friction and soft whines at how indirect the pressure still is. You need more, more– you lift up to press your hips into his touch in search of relief.

All too quickly, the motion of his palm stills, and you can’t help the strangled noise that escapes you. Both of his hands slip down your body, coming to rest at your hips, and his thumbs hook under your panties to push them down your thighs.

You fumble for a second, lifting your knees up to your chest to finish pulling your underwear over your ankles. As you fling your last article of clothing off the side of the bed and attempt to lower your legs down, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s hands pressing firmly into the backs of your thighs.

“Stay just like that,” he instructs, and you listen, crossing your ankles and following the encouragement of his touch to keep your legs pulled up, your bare cunt fully exposed for him.

You don’t know what to expect next– his fingers, maybe his tongue– but it’s certainly not what he does, which is look up at you and calmly ask, “How do you feel?”

Your answer is not a word in any language; it’s somewhere between a moan and a noise of pure frustration. Folded in half for him like this, you swear you can feel arousal starting to drip out of your pussy.

“That’s pretty good,” Yoongi remarks, lazily bringing one hand up to encircle your ankle in his grasp, enjoying his free rein over your body as it’s offered up to him. Even that gentle touch is enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. “But I think we can do better.”

You nod your head in a silent request as you watch him lean down onto the mattress, lowering himself to be eye-level with your pussy. “Haven’t even tasted you yet.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you gasp, and you can feel his breath over you, the heat and anticipation sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Just remember to stop me,” he warns, and then he leans forward to lick a thick stripe up your cunt. You cry out at the sensation, the wetness and warmth of his tongue sliding through your folds, and your head kicks back against the pillow as you feel his fingers gently part your inner lips for better access.

He pulls away for a fraction of a second, just long enough to hum softly and murmur “so fucking wet” under his breath. Your hands grip the bedsheets as he dives back in with even more enthusiasm, spreading you wide open.

The heat he’s been building up in you all night is coiling devastatingly tight in your core now– your head is spinning, your nipples so stiff that they ache. The thought of asking him to stop, and probably soon, from how deliberately he’s eating you out, feels nearly impossible.

Yoongi seems to settle in as he falls into a pattern with his movements: lazily circling your entrance a few times before delving in and fucking you all-too-briefly with his talented tongue, enough to make your walls squeeze greedily around him. After a few more thrusts he withdraws, using a long lick to drag your collected wetness up, his tongue pressing flat and heavy. When he reaches your clit he flicks gently over the sensitive bud a few times, eventually pulling it into his mouth to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Yoongi–”

You swear you can feel him smiling smugly as he returns to your entrance to start again, somehow both sloppy and precise, humming a little in a way that sends a devastating wave of vibrations through you.

He keeps everything so slow it’s nearly torture, building up the tightening pressure inside of you a little more with each pass, but purposefully never staying so consistent that you tip over the edge– just leaving you wet enough to drown in. You can’t stop the moans and whimpers he pulls out of you now, the way your hips jerk under his mouth.

He’s fucking good at this.

You lose track of how many times he goes through the process, until you’re wound so tight with arousal you think you might burst.

“Yoongi,” you whine, and he must be able to hear the change in your voice.

Yoongi’s mouth freezes, lips still wrapped around your clit. His hands move to your thighs, gently ushering your feet to return to the mattress on either side of his head, your legs still spread wide, so he can see you. He hums around you as if to ask a question, and your hips shudder beneath him.

That must be a good enough answer, because he pulls off of you, reaching up to wipe an errant strand of slick from his bottom lip. Everything about him in this moment makes your pussy throb: his mouth, nose and chin are all coated in your juices, the results of his efforts, and his pupils are blown black with lust and something that looks like determination.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you disappeared up the stairs together. Hours, maybe days. Yoongi certainly looks like he could do this forever.

“Gonna come?” He murmurs, nuzzling his cheek absent-mindedly against your inner thigh as he holds your gaze.

“I–” He hasn’t let you get that close yet, but you feel so fucking full, like your core isn’t capable of holding onto any more pleasure. “I can’t take any more,” you say, and the desperation in your own voice sounds so ridiculous to you that you let out a crazed laugh. “I’m gonna fucking die, Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” There’s a glint in his eyes, like he’s not going to let you tap out that easily. “What if I do this?”

His tongue returns to your clit, but this time he’s no longer teasing. His rhythm is consistent now, lapping against you in short, deliberate strokes, over and over. You can feel every muscle in your core tensing as he works you relentlessly towards your peak.

When your back starts to arch, it takes everything in you to say his name. “Yoongi,” you gasp, and he knows you’re about to come, must be able to tell by the way you start to shake underneath him. You cry out a sound that’s nearly a sob when he pulls back quickly and everything comes to a screeching halt. It’s like you can feel your orgasm being ripped out from under you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, hips grinding down into the mattress, desperate for any possible friction. “I’m so fucking close, Yoongi, please.”

His eyes linger hungrily over your pussy, the mess he’s made of you. Keeping his touch light, he gently traces a finger over your inner lips, clearly admiring the way it makes you tremble.

“Seems like you’re ready.”

You’d almost forgotten the point of all of this, the initial conversation in the kitchen, the fact that the man now lazily running a finger through your dripping folds is supposedly capable of making anyone squirt and that you are putting him to the test. You already believe it wholeheartedly– you’re just not sure you’ll survive long enough to see it.

Yoongi sits up, shifting to kneel to one side of you, hands encouraging your legs to spread even wider. When he starts to speak, you try as best you can to focus on his words, dizzy as you are with overwhelming need.

“I’m gonna press pretty hard, okay? When it feels like you have to pee, push it out instead of trying to hold it in. I promise, it’s not pee.” He pauses, laughing softly to himself, then adds, “And if it is, honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”

You look up at him, your mind reeling, and you’re not expecting it when he ducks down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs as he pulls back. “Just relax and let go. I’ll go until you tell me to stop.” Your heart flutters a little behind your ribs at the softness in his voice, and you nod.

Your breath hitches as you feel Yoongi’s hand return to your center, two fingers moving down slowly to tease at your entrance. The fire in your belly ignites at the soft squelching noise he makes as he circles, just shy of entering you, dampening his digits with your juices.

Relief washes through you as he presses in, and you tip your head back on the pillow with a soft groan. Your lashes flutter as you fight to keep your eyes open, heavy-lidded with lust, to watch him at work.

“Shit,” you hiss as he curls his fingers up to press against your front wall, finding your g-spot like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. He pushes harder, falling into a steady rhythm, and the pleasure feels like a heavy weight in your gut now. A tingling sensation starts to hum through your limbs.

You’re panting, nearly gasping for breath as he rubs against you, each thrust of his hand accompanied by the slick sounds of your cunt. Your abdomen tightens as the pressure in your core builds, and you really do feel like you’re going to burst, overflow completely.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, “I–I’m– I’m gonna–”

“Push,” he reminds you, and you do just that as the wave crashes over you. A release like nothing you’ve ever felt before rips through you, and you’re so overcome by the feeling that it takes you a few seconds to remember to look down. Shakily tilting your head up, you see clear fluid gushing out of you each time Yoongi pulls back.

When he sees you’re watching, he withdraws entirely, bringing four soaked fingers to your clit to rub fast circles that make you moan loudly as your muscles spasm again. Without his hand there to block it, you watch as an unbroken stream of fluid rushes out of you, spraying over the sheets of his bed.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment just to focus on the feeling alone. “Oh my god.”

Yoongi makes a little noise of appreciation, fingers returning to your entrance, the wet sounds of your cunt now obscene as he pushes in again. “Fuck yeah. So fucking sexy.”

You arch up into his touch as he resumes the firm stroking of his fingers, pounding into your g-spot, hard enough to make your legs shake. When another wave of pleasure rolls through you, you don’t even have to think about it this time. Your body instinctively remembers Yoongi’s instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of you as you moan softly with each pump of his hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you gasp in time with his movements.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi rasps as he draws his fingers out again, and you hear him groan when he returns to your clit and easily works even more wetness out of you. “You just keep fucking coming. Gonna soak my fucking sheets.”

You can barely process what he’s saying. “M-more, Yoongi, please.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’ll give you more.” He adds another finger, driving the thrust of his hand deliberately into the weight at the center of your core, and the stretch only makes you come that much faster. Your pussy starts to quiver as he fucks you through it.

“Yoongiiiii,” you groan, dragging out his name as you squirt again and again. He keeps alternating, fingers slipping into you and working up more, then pulling out to press his hand flat against your whole pussy, rubbing indirectly over your clit. Wetness splashes out of you in endless spurts, soaking your cunt, his hand, the bed. It feels like you're coming for hours.

“No more, no more,” you finally gasp, and when you bring your hand to close over his wrist, Yoongi takes the cue and withdraws.

Your pussy, thighs, even the muscles in your ass are all trembling from overstimulation. As your knees drop in towards each other, you take a moment to let your eyes close, your pulse still racing. You feel absolutely spent.

You can’t believe you just did that. You had no idea your body was capable of such a thing. And before you can even think to stop it, you start to laugh, bringing both hands up to cover your face.

“Oh my god,” you manage to choke out between giggles, your voice muffled in your palms.

You’re vaguely aware of the mattress shifting beside you, and when you pull your hands away, Yoongi is seated next to you, running one hand gently over your arm. “Jesus, are you okay?” When you nod, he seems to relax a little.

“Yeah, but holy shit,” you gasp. “I should’ve taken you more seriously.” Your limbs feel like jello, your mind absolutely gone– you’ve officially been fingerfucked into oblivion. “I nearly died.”

“That was fucking insane,” Yoongi admits, looking mildly dazed himself. You follow his gaze across the bedspread, and your eyes go wide.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi,” you press a hand to your mouth, attempting to hold back more laughter, as you take in the extent of the damage. “Your sheets!”

A sizable wet spot has bloomed under your ass, right in the center of the bed and extending nearly half a foot down towards the end, clear as day against his gray-blue sheets.

“Why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Are you kidding?” He practically growls, free hand palming at the bulge in his briefs. “I’ll take watching you gush like that any day. I can sleep on the couch, I don’t give a fuck.”

It takes all the strength you can muster, given that your limbs still feel like they’re made of lead, but you manage to roll over onto your side to face him. You catch his working hand by the wrist with yours. “There’s always… my bed.”

“Yeah?” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Think your pussy can recover on the ride over?”

You laugh softly, glancing down at the mess he’s made of you, the lingering sheen from his mouth and your own fluids. “I’m honestly not sure. She might be out of commission.” You do your best to feign innocence when you meet his gaze again with a coy smile. “But my throat is very available.”

Yoongi is already reaching for his jeans. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #anonymous

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morallyinept · 4 months

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What a year it's been for fic writing!⭐️

There have been soooo many stories I've read and enjoyed this year, that's it's been super hard to pick favourites, and I've spent a good amount of time this year trying to narrow it down to just 25.

Listen, every single story I've read this year has been absolutely amazing. I am blown away by the sheer amount of talent and creativity we have in this fandom!

If you're not featured here on this particular list, it's not because I don't like your work or didn't enjoy it - far from it. I've simply put together a list of my personal favourites this year, based on how they made me feel, how often I re-read them, and some that have completely floored me.

And if you want more than just the 25 fic recs I've mentioned here, then please check out my Pedro Character Fav Fic Rec List where all the stories I've read/want to read and come across are featured. My TBR is through the roof, let me tell you, but it's a great problem to have!

And if your story isn't on my fic rec list, it's more than likely because I haven't found your work yet, so please yell at me to check it out! I'd absolutely love to!

Keep on writing, writers. You're all amazing!

So, without further ado, please find my top 25 Pedro Character Fics that I've really enjoyed reading this year! 🖤

☝️In no particular order, and includes a summary from the writer, where provided. Some series may still be ongoing. Please check the specific triggers/warnings on each story individually as some may not be suitable to your tastes:

• I Am Touchin', I Am Grabbin', Everything I Can't Be Havin' - @chronically-ghosted Dieter Bravo "A storm and a dead phone leaves you at the front door of your uncle’s mansion in LA. Thing is, you haven’t seen each other in over a decade and neither of you quite remember the other one looking like that. But what’s one night gonna do? Well, as it turns out – as Dieter spirals at a breaking point in his career and you’re so lost in life you can’t see up from down – a whole fucking lot."

• Rock Bottom Series - @ghostofaboy Frankie Morales "Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of."

• Palomino Series - @fuckyeahdindjarin Agent Whiskey "Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you’d booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need."

• Stepwise @the-scandalorian Din Djarin "Requests for both soft and smutty touch-starved head canons spiraled out of control and became this."

• It Pours From Your Eyes - @the-blind-assassin-12 Joel Miller "Some things don't need to be said. Until they do."

• Transplant Series - @marisferasiop Joel Miller & Ezra "You are a resident and the only trained doctor in Jackson. You're bubbly and sweet, outgoing and friendly, and also in an unlabeled "situationship" with the town scrooge, Joel Miller. He won't say you're together, but he'll scare anyone else off. When Tommy drags back a half-dead man and girl from a patrol, you dutifully patch them up and help them settle into their new slotted house - across Rancher Street from yours and Joel's houses. Ellie and Cee get on like a bonfire, and when Joel sees how often you talk to your newest patient, his insecurities make him draw up and away from you. As you slowly give up on him and start something with Ezra, Joel's pining turns to frustration. Tommy convinces him to see if you'd be interested in being a throuple. Surprisingly, you and Ezra are both open to the idea. But can Joel's insecurities and possessiveness withstand such an arrangement? Or will the blow of another loss be what finally breaks him?"

• I'll Know It When I See It Series - @bageldaddy Joel Miller "It's the golden age of porn. Sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name Texas."

• Compulsion Series - @iamskyereads Ezra "Beatrice is a Drifter, a member of that oft-maligned, enigmatic subsection of workers on Baylor Corporation’s long haul expeditions. Ezra is a man with flowery language and a dark past, but he plays guardian to a strong willed, soft spoken teenager. In a madcap scheme to steal precious gems from the corporation’s mining operations, Ezra and his ward, Cee, form a reluctant alliance with this lone Drifter."

• Left In Lincoln Series - @toxicanonymity Joel Miller "After you were orphaned by the Outbreak, Bill and Frank raised you, sheltered in their closed community. Now 21+, you're still inexperienced. They leave to get treatment for Frank and ask Joel to look in on you while they're gone. The town begins to creep you out, but Joel is glad to provide comfort and protection."

• Summer Schooled Series - @boliv-jenta Dave York & Joel Miller "Needing some cash before college, you start babysitting for Mr Miller and Mr York. When you decide to spend the summer teasing them. They decide you need to be taught some lessons."

• I Urge You, Bite Me - @netherfeildren Joel Miller "Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that. Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too."

• Sex Worker Frankie Series - @prolix-yuy Frankie Morales "Francisco “Catfish” Morales, a former sex worker at Pope’s escort service, takes on a final client and is met with something unexpected."

• Said The Spider To The Fly - @blueeyesatnight The Thief No summary provided by author, and I won't spoil it, however this is an awesome little fic which I urge you to check out if you haven't already!

• Catalyst Series - @ezrasbirdie Frankie Morales & Joel Miller "You've been nursing a crush on one of your closest friends, Frankie Morales, for a year now. At his 40th birthday party, you finally meet his new friend and neighbor, Joel Miller, who Frankie hasn't been able to stop talking about. You hit it off a little too well."

• Just A Piece - @palioom - Dave York "Dave only married you to keep his life as a hitman hidden. But when he comes home one day to you having cooked one of his childhood meals, he is doubting if he only married you out of necessity."

• This Charming Man - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Frankie Morales "Frankie’s wife kicks him out and files for divorce following a second trip to retrieve their money. He feels lost and hopeless until he meets someone new. He falls hard and fast for her. He’ll do anything to have her."

• Lemon Cakes & Lust - @thetriumphantpanda Oberyn Martell "Just a lowly kitchen girl, that’s all you were. A life of struggle behind you, masked by the facade of the palace. A tray of lemon cakes holds your fate with Prince Oberyn and you are only too happy to oblige his wanting of you."

• Headshots Series - @secretelephanttattoo Marcus Pike "You're a photographer and you get a job working for the FBI, taking corporate headshots."

• Starving Season Series - @wannab-urs Dave York "You and Dave York are two people with nothing left in this world. You find yourselves starving for each other, trying to fill whatever void you each have in yourselves."

• Akrasia - @sp00kymulderr Ezra "Ezra quarantine smut that focuses much less on the lockdown and much more on the smut."

• Sequins - @trulybetty Joel Miller "On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you."

• Kill Shot Series - @magpiepills Ezra "A lonesome prospector comes face to face with a dangerous stranger. What happens when you can’t resist his charm?"

• Send In The Clown - @covetyou Dieter Bravo "You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown."

• Precious Possessions Series - @exquisiteserotonin Dave York "Work conferences were supposed to be boring. A meeting with a mysterious man sets your life on a very different trajectory."

• Rumour Has It Series - @senorabond Marcus Pike & Javier Pena "You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left."

Thank you so much to all the writers for writing such amazing stories this year!

⭐️And as a bonus, I've picked a fic from my own writing that I feel is my absolute favourite piece that I've written this year:

The Pit - Ezra - "Ezra and you stumble into an ominous pit on a prospecting mission for coveted azure diamonds on the Narillan moon, and find more than you bargain for."

🖤

PEDRO CHARACTER FAV FIC REC MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #javier pena #frankie morales #ezra prospect #dieter bravo #agent whiskey #marcus pike #dave york #comandante veracruz #oberyn martell #din djarin #jett's fic recs #jett's top 25 fic recs of 2023

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elryuse · 19 days

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Hey can you drop if possible yandere kwon eunbi

The Devil Within Her

YANDERE EUNBI X MALE READER

The fluorescent lights of the practice room buzzed overhead, their harsh glare highlighting the smudged mascara tracks staining Eunbi's porcelain skin. The air hung heavy with the ghosts of past rehearsals, each echoing step a memory of Iz*One's vibrant energy, now a cruel echo in the sterile silence. The news of her ex-boyfriend's betrayal, a fresh gash on her heart, felt insignificant compared to the gaping hole left by the group's disbandment.

In this emotional wasteland, a single, comforting presence remained – Y/n. Unlike the stylists who fawned over her fleeting beauty and the managers consumed by the bottom line, Y/n possessed a genuine warmth. He wasn't swept away by the dazzling facade of Eunbi, the K-pop idol. He saw the woman beneath the shimmering outfits and perfectly choreographed dance moves – a woman vulnerable, hurting, and desperately clinging to the remnants of her dreams.

He'd become her confidante, a silent rock in the ever-shifting sands of her career. A shared smile after a grueling practice session, a knowing glance across the crowded music show stage – these unspoken moments bloomed into a secret language, a garden nurtured in the sterile confines of the entertainment industry. These stolen moments fueled a yearning within Eunbi, a desire that transcended their professional dynamic.

One starless night, Eunbi found herself slumped on the worn practice room floor, the sting of betrayal a bitter pill in her throat. The rhythmic thump of the bass from the studio down the hall mimicked the erratic beat of her heart. Suddenly, a familiar weight settled beside her. Y/n, his eyes reflecting a quiet concern, offered a box of tissues. The simple gesture, the silent understanding that transcended words, sent a jolt through her. In that moment, a seed, dark and possessive, took root in Eunbi's heart.

Years flowed by, a delicate dance of unspoken emotions. Y/n remained a constant, his unwavering support a lifeline in the whirlwind of Eunbi's solo career. Yet, the hunger within her gnawed relentlessly. She craved a deeper connection, a possessiveness that transcended the boundaries of their professional dynamic.

Then, the world tilted on its axis. News of Y/n's upcoming marriage arrived like a physical blow. The vibrant colors of her meticulously curated life leached into a dull grey. The thought of him, her silent knight, belonging to another woman was unbearable. A cold fury, a possessiveness so fierce it bordered on madness, consumed her.

Eunbi, the idol known for her innocent smile and sugary pop anthems, vanished. In her place emerged a woman fueled by a twisted sense of ownership. Whispers of "accidents" plagued Y/n's fiancee, her promising career crumbling overnight. The fear in the woman's eyes, the desperate pleas for help that reached Eunbi's ears through carefully placed sources, fueled a twisted sense of satisfaction in Eunbi.

One frantic night, Y/N burst into Eunbi's practice room, his face a mask of terror, a stark contrast to his usual cheerful demeanor. "What have you done?" he rasped, his voice laced with a fear he couldn't mask.

Eunbi leaned back in her chair, a cold smile twisting her lips. "Just ensuring you understand who truly cares for you, Y/n," she said, her voice devoid of warmth, laced with a chilling edge. "Someone who wouldn't betray you like your precious fiancee."

"This is Crazy, Eunbi!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "It's... it's madness!"

She stood up, her movements predatory, and circled him like a wolf stalking its prey. "Madness?" she scoffed, her voice a low hum. "Perhaps. But tell me, Y/n, who else has been there for you through it all? Who held you when you were broken, celebrated your victories, and wiped away your tears?"

He remained silent, trapped in a web of his own loyalty and her terrifying affection. A single tear rolled down his cheek, a testament to the impossible situation he found himself in. "Let her go, Eunbi," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'll be yours, just please, don't hurt her anymore."

A cruel smile stretched across Eunbi's face. "That," she purred, leaning in close enough for him to feel the heat of her breath, "Is exactly what I want to hear baby."

Y/n's surrender wasn't a victory march but a chilling descent into darkness. He had traded his freedom for a twisted sense of security, trapped in a gilded cage built by a love as beautiful as it was terrifying. The future stretched before him, a canvas painted in shades of obsession and fear, with Eunbi, the idol.

Crystal chandeliers cast a glittering sheen on the opulent ballroom. Eunbi, resplendent in a custom-made gown that shimmered like moonlight on water, stood beside Y/n, her new husband. His hand felt cold in hers, a stark contrast to the warmth she craved. Yet, outward appearances were everything in this world.

Paparazzi flashes erupted like a storm, capturing the image of the newly married power couple. Congratulatory messages poured in – congratulatory tweets from fellow idols, elaborate flower arrangements from sponsors, and even a video call from her former Iz*One bandmates, their smiles tinged with a melancholic understanding. Each well-wisher hammered a nail into the coffin of Y/n's freedom, solidifying his place as Eunbi's trophy husband.

Across the crowded ballroom, hidden in the shadows, stood Y/n's ex-fiancee, her figure barely visible amidst the throng of guests. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a testament to the love she'd lost and the fear that gnawed at her. She had seen the news reports – the "accidents" plaguing her career, the subtle threats disguised as advice from anonymous sources – and knew who was responsible. But against Eunbi's power and reach, she was powerless.

Eunbi, oblivious to the silent heartbreak across the room, turned to Y/n. "Smile, darling," she murmured, her voice laced with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. "They want us to have a happy ending."

He forced a smile onto his face, the charade hollow and painful. Eunbi, ever the master manipulator, tilted her head, her gaze flickering to the ex-fiancee for a fleeting moment. A cruel smile played on her lips, so subtle that only Y/n, trapped in her twisted game, could detect it.

The night progressed in a blur of champagne toasts and forced small talk. Y/n, a ghost at his own wedding, found himself surrounded by strangers, their faces obscured by a mask of forced cheer. He desperately searched for a familiar face, someone who might see through the facade and understand his predicament, but found none.

Eunbi, the consummate performer, flitted from guest to guest, radiating warmth and charm. Yet, Y/n saw a fleeting flicker of darkness behind her dazzling smile when her gaze met her ex-boyfriend's, a fellow idol enjoying the party with his entourage. It was a reminder that she wouldn't tolerate any competition, not even a ghost from the past.

Later that night, as the last guests trickled out, Eunbi led Y/n to their opulent suite. The celebratory atmosphere evaporated as the door shut behind them. The cold glint in her eyes sent a tremor through him. He wasn't a husband; he was a possession, a prize she'd claimed with ruthless efficiency.

"Now," Eunbi purred, her voice devoid of its usual playful lilt, "where were we?"

Y/n flinched, the fear palpable in the air. He understood then, with a horrifying clarity, that his surrender hadn't bought him freedom, but condemned him to a gilded cage ruled by a love as beautiful as it was terrifying. And as Eunbi closed the distance between them, the glittering facade of their marriage began to crumble, revealing the darkness that lurked beneath. The melody of their twisted love story had just begun, a symphony of obsession and fear, with Y/n trapped in the conductor's cruel hands.

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lciesdepravity · 7 months

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Depraved Series

Nayeon Arc Chapter 1-1: Quid Pro Quo Blow Tags/Warnings/Genre (WARNING! This Chapter contains heavy depraved smut. This includes the following tags: Blowjobs, Quid Pro Quo, rimming. Also, someone kept on pestering me and I got annoyed so I'm releasing this fic unedited. Read at your own risk.)

Nayeon strutted confidently through the glass doors of the JYPE building, her heels clicking against the marble floor with each step. She exuded an air of self-assuredness, her radiant smile captivating anyone who dared to glance her way. Heads turned, eyes followed her every move, but she remained unfazed.

As she made her way through the bustling lobby, the sound of her footsteps mingled with the melodic hum of conversation and the occasional ring of a cell phone. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and ambition, the energy of the entertainment industry palpable. It was a world she knew well, one she had grown accustomed to since her debut as a K-pop idol.

Her heart fluttered with nervousness as she approached the executives floor. The main doors slid open, revealing a corridor lined with closed doors, each one looking grand and lavish. Nayeon took a deep breath, gathering her courage as she approached Pres. Ozawa's office. She rapped her perfectly manicured nails against the polished wood, the sound echoing through the hallway.

Knock knock

"Come in," Pres. Ozawa's voice boomed from inside.

Nayeon slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. The sound of her heels echoed through the room, making her feel self-conscious. She saw Pres. Ozawa sitting at his desk, poring over a stack of papers. He looked up and smiled warmly at her.

"Ah, Nayeon, please come in and have a seat," he said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

Nayeon walked over to the chair and sat down, smoothing out her skirt nervously. She looked around the office, taking in the elegant decor and the impressive view of the city skyline.

Pres. Ozawa cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair. "So, Nayeon, what brings you to my office today?" he asked, his voice authoritative.

Nayeon took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She knew that this was her chance to make a case for her solo career. "Mr. President, I wanted to talk to you about the direction of my career," she said, trying to sound confident.

Pres. Ozawa raised an eyebrow. "Go on," he said, his tone slightly skeptical.

Nayeon took a deep breath and launched into her pitch, explaining her vision for her solo music and the kind of impact she wanted to make on her fans. She felt her nerves building more as she spoke, and she could see Pres. Ozawa becoming more and more uninterested in what she had to say.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," he says, his expression serious. "But we can't give you what you're asking for."

Nayeon's heart drops at his words, and she can feel a lump forming in her throat. "W-why not?" she stammers.

"I'm sorry, Nayeon, but your solo career is too risky. JYPE needs TWICE to promote as a whole," Pres. Ozawa finally said, crushing Nayeon's hopes.

Nayeon can feel tears forming in her eyes as she realizes that her dreams for a solo album are slipping away.

"W-what can I do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

Pres. Ozawa leaned back in his chair and stretched his fingers. "Hmm, there might be," he says, a sly grin crossing his face. "But it's not exactly what you're expecting."

Nayeon looks at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Nayeon," he says, his tone turning playful. "Maybe I can reconsider. Show me your dance moves in More & More. I might see something that changes my mind."

Why does he want me to dance? Is he testing me?

She walked over to the stereo system and started the song. As the music started to play, Nayeon closed her eyes and let the rhythm take over. She moved her hips and twirled around, trying to give her best performance. She knew that she had to impress Pres. Ozawa if she wanted to have a chance at her solo career.

As she sways her hips and rolls her body, she notices that Pres. Ozawa is staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes. She can see him shifting in his chair, and she realizes that he's getting hard. So that's what this was... Fucking pervert just wanted to get off on me dancing.

Ever the professional, she keeps dancing, her body moving with fluid grace as she performs the intricate choreography. She can feel the sweat starting to bead on her skin, but she doesn't stop. She's determined to give it her all and show this old fuck what she's capable of.

Finally, Nayeon finishes her dance routine, nailing the final pose with fierce intensity. Panting and sweating, her tongue slides out as per habit, but she looks up at Pres. Ozawa with a sense of satisfaction. She knows she's given him exactly what he wanted, and she's hoping it'll be enough to change his mind about her solo album.

Pres. Ozawa beckons Nayeon to come around the table and stand in front of him. "You danced well.... Now for the final test."

Nayeon looks at him, her confusion apparent. "M-mwo? What do you mean?" she asks.

In a single bold move, Pres. Ozawa opens his legs and shows her his bulge, making Nayeon's eyes widen in shock. "If you want to go solo," he says, his voice dripping with lust. "Get on your knees and service my cock."

Nayeon freezes... She hesitates, unsure of what to do. She never expected him to ask something like this, and she's not sure if she's willing to go this far for her career. She looks at him, her eyes pleading for an alternative.

Pres. Ozawa looks at Nayeon expectantly, waiting for her to make a decision. When she hesitates, he says, "Well then, I guess no solo for you."

Nayeon freezes on the spot, biting her lip as she weighs her options. She knows that her solo career is on the line, but she's not sure if she's willing to do what Pres. Ozawa is asking.

"How hard could it be to make an old man cum?" she thinks, debating with herself.

"I mean, it's gross, but if it means my solo... maybe it's worth it." She takes a deep breath and looks up at Pres. Ozawa, her eyes filled with hesitation and a hint of desperation.

"I'm not getting any younger Nayeon. If you're not willing to do it then get out." He said, his voice stern, his face annoyed.

Slowly, she gets on her knees in front of him, but she does nothing. Ozawa looks at her with impatience, and she realizes that he wants her to do all the work.

She takes a deep breath and reaches for his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock. As soon as she frees it from his pants, she can't help but gawk at its size.

The size of it is almost intimidating: easily 9 inches long, with a very impressive girth. Nayeon gulps nervously, her eyes wide as she takes it in. She feels a little unsure of herself as she starts to stroke him, using both hands to cover as much of his length and girth as possible.

"Oh fuck," she murmurs. "That's... impressive."

Pres. Ozawa grins at her, pleased with her reaction. "Yes, it is," he says, his voice low and husky. "And your hands are so soft on it."

Nayeon blushes at his comment but continues to service him, using both hands to stroke him slowly up and down. She can feel him getting harder in her hands, and she starts to pick up the pace, moving faster and faster.

As she continues to stroke him for around 15 minutes, her initial discomfort turns into frustration. The old man is nowhere close to the edge, and she's starting to feel like this is an endless task.

"Come on," she thinks to herself. "Just cum already, you old geezer."

Ozawa moans softly, enjoying the sensation of Nayeon's soft hands on his cock. "That's it," he says, his voice commanding.

"Spit on your hands and lube up my cock."

Nayeon obediently spits on her hands and uses it to lubricate the engorged cock head. She notices precum coming out the tip and uses it to mix with her saliva, making the slippery sensation even better.

As she continues to stroke him, she can't help but be amazed by the size of his cock.

"It's so big and thick... Oh god it feels so full in my hands." She thinks whilst she strokes him for a few more minutes, occasionally spitting on her hand to renew the sloppy sensation.

Her arms begin to tire as she continues to stroke him for almost 20 minutes now. She shifts her position slightly, trying to find a more comfortable way to hold him. "Come on," she thinks to herself. "This is getting exhausting."

Nayeon feels conflicted. On one hand, she's enjoying the power she has over him, but on the other hand, she can't help but feel disgusted by what she's doing.

"You're getting too old for this," she says, her voice teasing, trying to distract herself from her own discomfort.

Pres. Ozawa grins at her, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, maybe I just need those plump lips around my cock."

Nayeon feels a shiver run down her spine at his suggestion. She knows what he is implying, and a part of her wants to refuse. But another part of her is curious, wondering what it would be like to have him inside her mouth.

She licks her lips nervously, unsure of how to respond. "I don't know," she says hesitantly. "I've never done that before."

Pres. Ozawa chuckles. "Don't worry, Nayeon," he says reassuringly. "Just open your mouth and it will come naturally."

Nayeon gulps, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. She takes a deep breath and leans forward, feeling the heat emanating from his thick cock. She hesitates for a moment but then brings herself to kiss the engorged cock head, feeling it twitch against her lips. "*Tsup* Uhhhmmm~ *Mwah*"

She lets out a small squeal of surprise as she feels his cock twitch against her lips. She can feel her heart racing with excitement as she realizes just how turned on he is by her.

She continues to kiss his entire length, noticing that he is oozing precum. She uses her tongue to lap it up, savoring the salty taste. She then takes his cock between her lips and moves it back and forth.

Pres. Ozawa groans as he watches her smear his precum on her lips. "Hooolyy fuck, Nayeon," he swears, his voice thick with desire. "Your lips are making me so hard."

Nayeon smiles up at him, feeling a sense of confidence wash over her. She leans forward again, parting her lips tentatively as she hesitantly takes him into her mouth, feeling the velvety texture of his skin against her tongue.

She swirls her tongue around the tip of Pres. Ozawa's cock, taking him into her mouth slowly. But as she tries to take more of him into her mouth, she finds it difficult to fit the entire length of his cock inside.

"Holy shhht," she mutters around his cock, her voice muffled by the hard shaft in her mouth. She works inch by inch, slowly but surely, taking more of him into her mouth with each stroke.

"God, he's so fuckin' big," she thinks, her eyes widening in surprise as she takes him deeper into her mouth. Despite the challenge, she's determined to take him all the way, wanting to please him as much as possible.

Nayeon uses her hand to guide his cock into her mouth, taking as much as she can at a time. She feels her throat constricting around the head of his cock, and she moans slightly at the sensation.

"Mmmph, *gulk* *gulk* *gulk*"

Pres. Ozawa moans as she takes him deeper, and she starts to suck him harder and faster. "That's it, baby," he says, his voice low and husky. "Take it all in."

Nayeon hums in response, the vibrations sending shivers down Pres. Ozawa's spine. She can feel herself getting wet with anticipation as she takes more of him in, inch by inch. The decrepit old man groans loudly, his grasping on his desk tightening. He moans at the sensation, his hands running through her hair.

"Oh yeah, just like that," he says, suppressing a groan. "Suck my cock like a good little girl."

Nayeon responds by taking more of him into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down on his shaft. The sound of her sloppy sucking fills the room, the sloppy wet noises of her mouth reverberated throughout the office walls. "Mmmphh, mmphh," she murmurs, her voice desperate for his approval as she fervently bobs her head.

"Oooohhh fuuckk" he growls, his grip on her hair tightening, drawing out a pained moan from the idol. "Fuck yes... Put those dick sucking lips of yours to good use."

Nayeon continues to suck him hard and fast, her hand stroking the base of his cock. Pres. Ozawa takes one of her hands and brings it up to his chest, guiding her to one of his nipples.

"Play with my nipples while you blow me."

Nayeon obeys, using her free hand to play with his nipple, rolling it between her fingers and pinching it gently. She can feel his cock twitching in her mouth as she alternates between sucking and stroking him, driving him closer to the edge.

As she continues to pleasure him, Nayeon's mind starts to wander, thinking about the consequences of her actions. "What am I doing?" she thinks to herself.

"I can't believe I'm servicing this old man for my solo career." Despite her moral objections, she can't deny the small patch of wet cloth that had begun forming in her underwear.

"*Glok*, *gulk*, *glock*," Nayeon gags around his cock, but she doesn't let up. Instead, she parks his full length down her throat for a few glorious seconds, fighting her gag reflex along the way. Her eyes made contact all the while, even as she's tearing up, turning him on even more.

Ozawa moans at the sensation. The tightness of the slutty idol's throat, combined with her mouth on his cock and her hand on his chest driving him wild. He can feel himself getting close to the edge, and he knows that he won't be able to hold back much longer.

Nayeon continues to deepthroat him, gagging slightly as she takes him all the way in.

All of a sudden, He grips her head firmly, pushing his cock even deeper into her throat. "Take it all, Nayeon," he growls. "Deepthroat me like a good little slut."

Nayeon's eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn't resist. Instead, she relaxes her throat and takes him all the way in, feeling his cockhead hit the back of her throat. She gags loudly, but the sound only seems to turn Pres. Ozawa on more.

"Mmmpphh, *gulk*, *glock*, *gluck*, *glurg*," As Pres. Ozawa's moans grow louder and more urgent, Nayeon redoubles her efforts. She takes him in even deeper, using her tongue to swirl around his cockhead as she bobs her head up and down on his shaft. The sound of her gagging and choking on his cock only drives him closer to the edge.

"Oh god, Nayeon," Pres. Ozawa groans. "I'm so close. Don't stop, keep going."

Nayeon's eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn't let up, determined to make him cum hard. She continues to deepthroat him, taking him in as deep as she can with each pass. Her hands grip his hips tightly as she bobs her head up and down on his cock, the sound of her gagging and choking filling the room.

"Uh, uh, uh," Pres. Ozawa moans, his voice thick with pleasure as he gets closer and closer to cumming.

Just as Nayeon looks up at him with a lustful gaze, making eye contact, Pres. Ozawa's body convulses and he swears loudly, his hips bucking as he shoots his hot load deep into her throat.

"Fuck! Take it, you little kpop whore," he growls, his fingers digging into her hair as he holds her head in place.

Nayeon swallows eagerly, continuing to massage his balls as she drains him. She can feel him pulsing in her mouth, his cock twitching as he empties himself into her.

As she keeps looking up at him, her nose still buried in his pubes, Nayeon intertwines one of her fingers with his hand and squeezes it firmly, letting him know how much she enjoys this. Her other hand continues to massage his balls, coaxing out every last drop of his cum.

Nayeon moans around his cock, the taste of his cum overwhelming her senses. She swallows as much as she can, but there's too much, and some of it spills out of her mouth and onto her chin.

As Pres. Ozawa finishes cumming, he collapses back onto his chair, panting heavily. Nayeon licks her lips and grins at him, her face still covered in his cum and saliva.

"I hope that was satisfying, Mr. President," she purrs, running her tongue over her lips.

Pres. Ozawa could only nod weakly, his eyes closed in pleasure, unable to form words, his breath coming in short gasps as he tries to catch his breath.

Nayeon giggles softly, pleased with herself. She looks up at Pres. Ozawa, a coy smile playing on her lips. "So...my solo?" she asks.

Pres. Ozawa grins back at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You'll get your solo," he says. "But there's a catch."

Nayeon raises an eyebrow. "A catch?"

Pres. Ozawa nods. "You'll get your solo if you allow me to use your mouth anytime I call for you."

Nayeon's smile fades, replaced with a look of hesitation. "What do you mean by that?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern.

Pres. Ozawa leans in, his breath hot against her ear. "I mean, whenever I want you, you'll be there for me. You'll use that pretty little mouth of yours to pleasure me."

Nayeon takes a step back, shaking her head. "I don't know, sir," she says. "I have my career to think about. What if I'm not available? What if I have other commitments?"

Pres. Ozawa shrugs. "That's not my problem," he says. "If you want your solo, you'll make time for me. It's that simple."

Nayeon takes a deep breath, considering his proposal. She knows how important her solo is to her career, but the idea of being at Pres. Ozawa's beck and call doesn't sit well with her.

Finally, she takes a step forward, looking him directly in the eye. "Fine," she says. "You can use my mouth anytime you call for me. But you have to prioritize my solo activities, or the deal is off."

Pres. Ozawa nods, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Deal," he says.

"Now, clean up my cock." Nayeon obeys, taking his cock into her mouth and cleaning him up.

Throughout the week, Nayeon was called to service Pres. Ozawa countless times. One time she was practicing a routine with her members when she suddenly received a message from him. "Got a meeting, be under my desk in 5 minutes, we'll be arriving around 10," he said.

Nayeon rolls her eyes at the message, annoyed at the interruption. "Again?" she thinks to herself, already dreading what's to come. But she knows better than to disobey him, so she quickly excuses herself from the practice and makes her way to his office.

Nayeon arrives early, slipping off her heels and leaving only her toes peeking out from under the desk. She knows that being comfortable is important if she wants to do her job well.

As Pres. Ozawa begins the meeting, Nayeon silently opens his zipper and takes his cock into her mouth.

She let out a muffled moan as she began to work her tongue and lips expertly around Pres. Ozawa's cock, taking him deep into her mouth.

Her lips form an airtight seal around his shaft, and she uses her tongue to swirl around the tip, teasing him relentlessly.

"Ummphh... mmmphh..." Nayeon moans, the sound of her voice muffled by his cock. She uses her hands to stroke him as she sucks, her fingers moving up and down his shaft in time with her mouth. Pres. Ozawa's hand gripped her hair, guiding her movements. She could feel his cock growing harder and harder in her mouth, and she knew that he was close.

With her toes curling in anticipation, Nayeon took Pres. Ozawa deep into her mouth, using her hand to stroke the base of his cock. She bobbed her head up and down, taking him in and out of her mouth, and she could hear Pres. Ozawa's breathing growing more ragged.

She swallowed around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. She could feel his cock twitching, and she knew that he was about to cum.

Suddenly, Nayeon changed her technique, using her tongue to circle around the head of Pres. Ozawa's cock while she continued to suck him off.

Finally, he let out a low silent growl, and Nayeon made more muffled sounds as she felt his hot cum flooding her mouth. She swallowed it eagerly, not wanting to waste a single drop, and let out a satisfied moan.

Despite the fact that Pres. Ozawa came quickly, the meeting lasts for another two hours, during which he remained hard. "I can't believe his stamina," she thinks to herself, feeling his cock twitching in her mouth as she continues to pleasure him. "But I need to keep him satisfied."

Nayeon uses every technique at her disposal to pleasure him. She deepthroats him, uses her tongue to flick the underside of his tip, and massages his balls with her fingers. She brings him to climax two more times before the meeting finally ended.

As every other executive egghead left the room, Nayeon slipped her heels back on and emerged from under the desk, a satisfied smile on her lips.

Later that week, as Nayeon was on her way to the bathroom, Jihyo called out to her. "Nayeonnie, where are you going?" she asked, her voice curious.

Nayeon froze for a moment, feeling a sense of panic. She couldn't let Jihyo know what she had been doing with one of the top execs of the company.

"I just need to use the restroom," Nayeon said, forcing a smile. "I'll be right back."

Nayeon walks into the men's bathroom, her heart racing with anticipation. She sees Pres. Ozawa waiting for her in one of the stalls, his cock already out and erect. She bites her lip, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear.

"Nayeon, my dear," Pres. Ozawa says, beckoning her over with a wave of his hand. "Come here and service me."

Nayeon takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She walks over to him, her heels clicking on the tile floor. "Yes, sir," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she squats on her heels in front of him, her legs spread wide apart to give her better balance. She can hear the sounds of men using the bathroom outside the stalls, which only adds to her excitement. "I can't believe I'm doing this with other men just outside the stall," she thinks to herself, feeling a thrill run through her.

When Pres. Ozawa saw Nayeon squatting on her heels, he let out a low growl of desire. "Fuck, Nayeon," he said, his voice husky. "You look so fucking hot like that."

Nayeon started to suck him off, her fingers working expertly on his cock. At the same time, she can't resist the urge to touch herself, rubbing her clit with her free hand. The pleasure she feels is intense, and she can feel herself getting wetter by the second.

"Oh god, this feels so good," she thinks to herself, trying to stifle her moans. "I can't believe I'm touching myself in a public bathroom like this. But I can't help it, it's just too hot."

She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter, her desire building with each passing moment.

Pres. Ozawa grips her hair, guiding her movements. "That's it, Nayeon, mmmmm~ You're doing such a good job..."

Nayeon feels a sense of pride at his words, knowing that she's pleasing him. She continues to suck and stroke him, feeling the pleasure building inside her. The sounds of men outside the stall only fuel her desire, and she can't help but wonder if they can hear her moans.

As Nayeon continues servicing Ozawa, she hears the sound of the men zipping up their pants and leaving the restroom.

Man 1: "Did you see her? That Nayeon chick is so hot. I bet she's amazing in bed."

Man 2: "Yeah, I would love to get a piece of that. I can only imagine what it would be like to have those dick sucking lips wrapped around my cock."

Holy shit, they're really fantasizing about me.

As Nayeon brings Pres. Ozawa closer to climax, she can feel him throbbing and pulsing in her mouth. She focuses on his pleasure, using all her skills to bring him to the edge.

Suddenly, he pulls her away from him. "Not yet," he says, his voice stern. "I want to see you cum first."

Nayeon's eyes widen in surprise, but she can't deny the excitement that she feels at his command. She uses her fingers to rub her clit, feeling the wetness between her legs. She moans softly, feeling the pleasure building inside her. She can feel Pres. Ozawa's eyes on her, watching her every movement.

"Oh god, I'm so close," she thinks to herself, struggling to stifle her moans. "I can't let anyone hear me, but it feels so good. I can't stop now."

As Nayeon's orgasm hits her, she struggles to keep her moans quiet. Her entire body shakes with a shudder. She feels the pleasure coursing through her body, and she can't help but let out a soft gasp. She can feel Pres. Ozawa's hand on her head, guiding her back to his cock. She takes him back into her mouth, feeling his cock twitching with pleasure.

Finally, Pres. Ozawa lets out a low growl. He groaned above her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he thrust his hips forward. "I'm gonna cum," he said, his voice strained.

Nayeon feels his hot cum flooding her mouth. She eagerly swallows it down, feeling a sense of satisfaction. With her mouth still full, she opens her mouth to show him his load, before swallowing it down with a gulp.

"Tank yew, shir," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, the cum making her words slurred. "I'll do whatevah it takes to please yew~"

She then stood up, her legs trembling slightly from squatting on her heels for so long. She fixed her appearance and left the stall, waiting until there was no one in the bathroom before walking out

In another occasion, Pres. Ozawa messages Nayeon again with urgency, "Need to cum toilet. NOW." Nayeon quickly reads the message, feeling a sense of excitement and nervousness at the same time. But then she sees the time and realizes that she's just about to eat lunch with her members.

Her heart races as she reads the message. She can't believe that Pres. Ozawa wants her again. The thrill of being used like a cum toilet by the most powerful man in the company makes her pussy drenching wet with desire. She replies, "What? Now? I'm just about to eat lunch with my members."

Pres. Ozawa replies, "Fine, wait for me outside."

As she waits outside, her mind is racing with thoughts of what's about to happen. She knows that this is risky, but the thought of being caught by her members only makes it more exciting.

When Pres. Ozawa arrives, he urges her to kneel. However, unlike their previous encounters, he presents his ass to her. "Well?" he says, his voice low and commanding. "What are you waiting for?"

On the outside, Nayeon fights as she physically wretches, but says nothing. On the inside, her thoughts are screaming with disgust.

"Oh my god, he wants me to do what? That's so gross. I can't believe he would even ask me to do that. But if I don't, who knows what he'll do."

She hesitates, unsure of what to do next. But when Ozawa wiggles his ass impatiently, she knows she has no choice.

With a deep breath, she reluctantly gives a hesitant lick to his asshole. The taste and smell of him fills her senses, making her gag and almost pull away.

"Oh god, the taste and smell are so overpowering. It's like the smell of sweaty gym socks mixed with the taste of something rotten. I don't know if I can handle this. But I have to, for him."

As she continues to lick his asshole, she strokes his cock, feeling it pulse and throb in her hand. The taste and smell of him becomes more tolerable as she becomes more aroused.

"I can't believe I'm actually getting turned on by this. The taste and smell are becoming more tolerable, even enjoyable. What's happening to me?"

She can hear the sounds of her members chatting and laughing just a few feet away, and the danger only adds to her arousal.

Then, in a burst of movement, Pres. Ozawa grabs her head and grinds against her face, pressing it hard against the wall.

Nayeon's eyes widen as her heart races with a mix of excitement and fear.

"Oh my god, he's grinding against my face so hard. And the wall is so rough against my skull. Bleh~ The taste and smell are so overwhelming, I feel like I might pass out. But I have to keep going, I can't disappoint him."

As she continues to rim his asshole, she strokes his cock, feeling it pulse and throb in her hand. The taste and smell of him become more tolerable as she becomes more aroused.

"I can feel his cock throbbing in my hand. He's so turned on by this. And I'm getting turned on too. What's happening to me?"

Suddenly, as he reaches his climax, he turns around and aims at her face, covering her entire face with his cum.

"Oh my fuck, he just came all over my face. What the fuck am I gonna do if the others see me like this? I need to clean up quickly and act like nothing happened."

Ozawa zips up his pants and says, "Come by my office tomorrow. We'll be discussing your solo more... intimately," he said with a grin as he sauntered off. "Oh, and wear the alcohol-free outfit again, it's my favorite," he added, causing Nayeon's face to turn an even deeper shade of red.

As she made her way back to her group, Nayeon's thoughts were in turmoil. "Why am I feeling this way?" she thought to herself. "Why is my body reacting so much to being used as a cum toilet?"

Nayeon felt a shiver run down her spine as she anticipated another day of face fucking tomorrow.

She does her best to clean up, feeling embarrassed and humiliated. But as she tries to sneak back to her members, her heart stops when she is stopped by Sana. "Unnie, wait. You have yogurt on your chin," Sana says, wiping the substances with her fingers and licking them off. Nayeon's face flushes with embarrassment as Sana swipes it with her fingers and sucks on it. "Mmm~ delicious," Sana says with a wink, making Nayeon's face turn bright red upon realizing what Sana had just tasted.

#nayeon smut

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cartermagazine · 6 months

Text

Today We Honor Gregory Hines

Gregory Hines began dancing as a child and went on to launch a successful Broadway, television and film career.

His notable movies include The Cotton Club, White Nights, Running Scared and his appearance in Waiting To Exhale.

He studied dance with master tap dancer Henry Le Tang and spent much of his early career dancing at the Apollo Theater, gleaning knowledge from such fellow performers as the Nicholas Brothers and Sandman Sims.

Hines was an avid improviser of tap steps, tap sounds, and tap rhythms alike. His improvisation was like that of a drummer, doing a solo and coming up with rhythms. He also improvised the phrasing of a number of tap steps, mainly based on sound produced.

“He purposely obliterated the tempos,” wrote tap historian Sally Sommer, “throwing down a cascade of taps like pebbles tossed across the floor. In that moment, he aligned tap with the latest free form experiments in jazz and new music and postmodern dance.”

CARTER™️ Magazine

#carter magazine #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #history #cartermagazine #today in history #staywoke #carter #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth #gregory hines

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a-silent-symphony · 2 years

Photo

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the-save-place-art · 1 year

Video

youtube

A valkyrie…

#floor jansen #floor jansen solo career #floor jansen covers #floor jansen adagio #lara fabian covers #floor jansen lara fabian #nightwish members

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kfaem · 24 days

Text

Love and Deepspace; when their S/O is a kpop idol

notes: brrr new fandom lets go. also yes i went MIA but hey im not like dead

the boys when MC is an idol :) this is self indulgent. im a zayne girlie but i got carried away with raf lol. im tired so this is unedited, poorly written, no structure, and kinda just rambling

Rafayel:

here me out

he was a fan for the longest time, creating multiple pieces based off of you and your likeness

you and your members go to one of his exhibitions and when you make eye contact he's immediately in love more than he was before

kinda in a weird way

but when you approach him first he's in shock and doesnt know what to do

after the initial talking period and when the relationship starts he acts like his normal self

attends every concert and fan meeting

spends hundreds of dollars on your albums, collecting your photocards and solo posters

brags about being your boyfriend on sns and your manager tries to get him to stop

thomas is so embarrassed everytime your manager reaches out and begs him to calm down cause its a bad image

doesnt care about the reporters, is willing to fight with elites over you and your reputation

he's a simp but is also kinda mean sometimes lol

is jealous when you go live and refuse to respond to him to at least an hour and makes his presence known in your chat

i find the image of the matching outfits, couples goals posts on sns, and articles where he names you his muse to just be so <3333

Xavier

You guys bumped into each other at a convenience store, both reaching for the same bag of chips

both flustered with red cheeks, you let him have it and apologized

awkward

so, so very awkward

both of you are stuck in a awkward, silent encounter and neither of you want to say anything

one of your members comes over to see whats taking you so long and realizes that you're in a standoff with a cute blond and decides to play cupid

it worked

you two end up becoming good friends, and then eventually some sort of situationship

he doesnt want to damage your career and acknowledges that you both dont have time to spend with each other

but still acts as a loving boyfriend, buying your albums, concert tickets, merch, birthday specials etc.

then when you guys go on a snack run, a reporter recognizes you and within the week you're caught up in dating rumours

deciding that you guys couldnt avoid the truth, the situationship turned into a real relationship

doesnt really make a big deal out of your relationship or your popularity. would rather spend your guys' spare time reading together, watching movies, eating good food and relaxing

the media eventually forgets but the fans dont

they love every piece of media that ever gets showed, glimpses of xavier in mirrors, reflections on water, glasses, windows. mentions of a lover in interviews when asked what inspired you

just a loving boyfriend who tries to give you a sense of normalcy outside of the flashing lights

Zayne

Childhood friends

he hates your career and how much soul it has taken from you, but also acknowledges that you love what you do and are willing to risk your health and privacy

zayne is the king of situationship lmao

dates all the time, dinners at small restaurants hiding in booths in the far corners since you both like to be alone, together

your members genuinely dont understand how hes "not your boyfriend"

has lingered on music video shoots, using his title as your personal doctor to not raise any eyebrows

doesnt go out of his way to buy your albums but... if hes at a corner store and sees it, he'll buy it. or two. or three.

keeps one of your photocards and a normal picture of you in his wallet, grayson found it on the floor in his office once after it fell out of his wallet and he could never live it down

the entire hospital staff knows but wouldnt say anything for fear of their life

always sending messages no matter what side of the world youre on. Please remember to eat, drink water, and rest as much as you can. Too much strain on your body can cause long-term side effects.

buys tickets to your concerts, trying to hold back his smile as you glow on the stage while performing in front of your many fans

yeah he gets jealous

wont say it

and you can barely tell

but the chill that fills the room when another idol hugs you and is being overly touchy is so very much obvious and has people rushing to do something else

a reporter approaches him and tries to ask about your dating life. he shuts them up with a glare. the reporter doesnt even dare publishing that article.

your fans have a basic idea of what zayne is to you, but they respect you enough to not make a scene of it.

then one of your members gets drunk on a live and asks about your boyfriend and it comes unravelled

you post a picture with him, captioned with a heart, and its never brought up again

has brought your fans food and drinks whenever they set up cafe events for support

he appreciates everything that your fans do for you and has asked them to take care of you when hes not around

your relationship is never actually made official but yall live together when you arent required to be at the dorms and own like two cats so idk

still the caregiver that we love

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #lads rafayel #lads zayne #lads xavier #loveanddeepspace

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chyuuiung · 6 months

Text

overworkedㅡ

synopsis: hoseok usually puts his all in whatever he does, especially when he's been spending hours in his studio for his upcoming comeback. that's when you decide to pay him a visit, and maybe lend him some relief as well

contains: smut, overworked hobi, some fingering, fucking on the studio couch, doggystle, unprotected sex, accidental creampie

wordcount:

not proofread!

feedback is always appreciated ♡

NOTE: I started this in June and I honestly hate it so much because I would open and close this project like every week so I feel like it's a bit "choppy" but I just randomly got in the mood to write again like 4 months later so forgive me, it's really bad. I just wanted to post😭😭

it honestly didn't surprise you that hoseok was spending hours upon hours in his studio these days. you knew he had an upcoming project for his first official solo album, so it didn't shock you that he was pushing himself this hard. the pressure was real, even you could feel it yourself.

00:16

---

are you still in the studio?

delivered.

babe?

delivered.

i'm coming over there with food, I know you haven't eaten

delivered.

---

you sigh as you slip your phone into your coat pocket, leaning against the restaurants doorway with a bag of the food you just ordered in hand. you begin to make your way to the big office building where hoseok was currently doing god knows what in his studio. it was really only a walking distance away from your apartment, about a 15 minute walk.

you really wished he'd take better care of himself in times like this, but you understood, it was his job and the majority of his career relies on the music he puts out as himself and as part of a group. but it honestly hurt you to see him come home at the ungodly hour of 4 in the morning, just to quickly wash up and head straight to bed. only talking to him over a small breakfast (that you were usually the only one eating) a few hours later.

your mind was occupied with many thoughts as you made your way closer to the buildings entrance, such as "what if he didn't want me to come?" but you convinced yourself this is what he needed. this is what you were here for right now. whether or not he likes it, you're going to go up there and take care of him.

but who were you kidding, "whether or not he likes it". of course he was going to appreciate it. he was one of the sweetest, most loving, and appreciative men you've ever met in your life. you knew his busy schedule took up a lot of time, but any time off he had, he'd spend it with you and made sure you felt loved no matter what.

you finally entered the building, quietly greeting a receptionist while making your way onto the elevator that was about to head up. you pressed the button that led to the floor his studio was on and waited quietly, checking your phone. the messages he sent were still delivered, so he most likely had no idea you were coming.

ㅡ

a few knocks on the door made him aware of your presence as you opened the door to his studio, his head snapped in your direction, eyes alert as he removed his headphones before his gaze softened and he placed them around his neck

"hey baby" he said as he got up to take the bags of food you were holding to place them on the coffee table.

"hey"

"I missed you" he left a peck on your lips, before sitting down and patting the seat next to him.

"I missed you too" you sat down, taking out the food and setting it up.

"did you eat at all today?" you already knew the answer to this, but you asked anyways.

he grinned sheepishly, avoiding eye contact while helping you set the food up

you sighed, smiling to yourself.

"you're lucky I care so much, hoseok"

he barely brought the food to his mouth before looking you up and down with that cute grin he always had on his face when you teased him with those words.

"I'd be lucky to have you no matter what"

you scoffed playfully, beginning to eat your share of the food.

ㅡ

about 45 minutes passed when you were both done, you sprawled along his couch with your head on his lap, feet dangling off the edge of his couch. he was slouched, head leaning back, and arms out on both sides as he played with your jacket string.

in a playfully random (but sleepy) mood, you lifted his shirt and put your head under it. not for any particular reason, but this was the type of stuff you'd do, just out of boredom. and he was quite used to it. in fact he liked it.

eyes still closed, he turned his head to the side, softly chuckling.

"that tickles"

you laugh, kissing his bare stomach before removing your head and sitting up, cuddling against him.

"when are you coming home?"

he put his arm around you as you snuggled up to him, twirling your hair in his finger

"hm?"

his eyes were still closed, he was exhausted.

you sighed, moving your body on top of his, gently straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into it

he was still sleepy but this action was enough for him to open his eyes, running his hand along your back as the other rested on your waist.

"what's wrong y/n?"

he asked you in a groggy voice.

you picked your head up and looked at him before humming to yourself and placing you lips on his, gently but so passionately. both of his hands rested on your hips, as he kissed back lazily. both of you moaning softly into them.

after a few seconds, he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, you parted your lips just a little for it to enter.

eventually the kiss turned into a full on heated makeout session and your fingers tangled in his hair as he ran his gentle hands along your sides.

the kiss broke apart, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

"hoseok, can we-?"

"yes, please"

he reconnected the kiss, you began to grind your hips on his growing buldge. he moaned loudly into the heated kiss, which turned you on even more causing you to grind harder. you broke the kiss apart and moved down to his neck, your fingers moving down his chest, to his stomach, eventually reaching his waistband.

you slipped your hand inside, palming his hard and throbbing dick through his boxers.

the sensation of you kissing his neck and rubbing him in just the right places became an overwhelmingly pleasureable sensation for him, almost too pleasureable.

"w-wait" he said breathlessly.

you stopped your hands movement and detached from his neck, picking your head up.

"what's wrong?" you were hoping you were doing the right thing. and that was the problem, you were doing it too well, if you had continued, he would've lasted about 30 more seconds.

"let me touch you too. I don't want to cum this fast"

he then smirked up at you, as you began to remove your bottoms. now, in just your underwear, he moved his fingers along the wet stripe that had soaked through.

"god, you're so fucking wet" he said looking down at your aroused state. he then looked into your eyes, moving your panties to the side while rubbing two fingers along your entrance. he slipped them in with ease, as your body shuddered above his.

"f- fuck.. hoseok" your body leaned forward over his as he continued fingering you. he used his thumb to push and rub your sensitive clit in circles, causing moans to escape your mouth.

he laughed at your reaction, pleased with the affect he had on you. the wet sound of his fingers moving in and out of you was almost too erotic. "is that good? do you like that?"

you didn't even respond to him with words, you just moaned into his neck, leaving wet kisses to quiet yourself.

it was a good thing his studio was soundproof.

ㅡ

he removed his fingers, and held your shoulder, causing you to sit up straight.

"get on your hands and knees," he said, pointing to the corner part of the couch that was the most spacious. you obeyed his request without hesitation, arching your back, your ass on full display for him.

you couldn't see him, but you could hear the shuffle and removal of clothing. it wasn't long before you felt his tip ever so slightly graze your entrance. he stroked it a couple times before he moved it up and down your wet, aching hole.

"please-" you pleaded, muffled from having your face so close to the couch. you moved you hips backward onto his cock, causing the tip to go in.

you both gasped, hoseoks breath hitching at the unexpected penetration.

"fuck" he cursed under his breath, head leaning back, chuckling ever so slightly.

"you're so impatient. are you ready for it? for me to fuck you in my studio?"

you moaned at his words, he was bold sometimes but when it was during sex, it turned you on to a whole other level. your fingers gripped the fake leather of his couch, trying to push yourself back more, but he stopped you. he placed a hand on your ass before properly pushing the rest of his length inside you. you moaned loudly at the sensation. you felt so full and so aroused.

"f- fuuuckkk hoseok... j- just like that"

you moaned out, he began thrusting at a rhythmic pace. not painfully slow, but not that fast either. the sounds you made each time his flared tip kissed your cervix were pornographic, and he loved it so much.

hoseok let out breathless swears and moans, his fingertips leaving marks as he gripped your hips tightly. the sound of skin-on-skin along with the squelching sound of eachothers wetness filled the room, and that alone turned both of you on so much.

his thrusts became more fast and erratic as he approached his high, his hand moving further underneath you as he rubbed circles on your swollen, aching clit at the same pace as his hips.

"jesus- fuck- ohmygod!" the sudden sensation of his angled cock hitting your gspot and toying with your clit just felt so perfect, and you weren't sure you were going to last long.

finally, you had come undone on his cock, your warm walls tightening around him and spasming from your orgasm. your high pitched moans were what ultimately made him realize as well.

"oh shit, fuck-"

he wasn't planning on cumming inside of you, but it felt too good for him to stop himself.

he finally released, a long drawn out moan left him as his warm and thick load emptied inside you. you honestly loved hearing him moan like that, he was never that vocal in bed. the most you got out of him was groans and grunts.

but this time, it was just something about fucking you raw and filling you up that turned him on so much.

you collapsed on his couch, back moving up and down from breathing hard. hoseok didn't pullout yet, falling down on top of your back.

"fuck, you felt so good baby"

he said in your ear, arms wrapping around your bare waist.

all you could do was hum in response. it was late, so you were already tired, and the session you just had in his studio was exactly what you both needed to unwind.

#bts smut #bts oneshot #bts x reader #hoseok smut #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #bts drabble #bts scenarios #jhope smut

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series, angst, yearning, reminiscent

word count: 3k

cherry here!...you guys, this is it! while i am sad to see it end, i am also so happy for those who tagged along and read this little mini series; i love you all. and so i ask: can i break your heart one last time?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 6

“I can explain!” you gasp, eyes frantically glazing over to where Charles messily packs his suitcase. “Please, just let me—”

“Sure.”

You come to a sudden halt, blink, and a single tear falls. The Monegasque smiles gently, though a red tint paints his cheeks from trying to not explode due to his fury.

Nothing but a squeak escapes, struggling to find the right words. You felt pathetic; like the worst person to ever walk earth because you were the worst person to ever walk earth. He almost wants to laugh and you can tell by how his lips tug upward in the slightest, and that itself makes you want to hurl over sobbing. This was all a joke to him, of course it was.

The brunette takes long strides over to where you stand in the kitchen, weakly leaning against a wooden chair to help your legs to not give out. You had been so surprised you were even able to run up to the house, clumsily twisting the knob and looking for him. He crunches down a bit, looking down at you with dark eyes, and grabs your face with his right hand. You wince.

“Let me make things easier for you; did you know who I was when we first met at the beach?”

“N-no. I swear to God that I did not know a single thing about you—”

“Did you ever truly enjoy my company as a friend?”

You breath hitches at him even considering the possibility that you never did, but he takes it the wrong way as his jaw clenches. “Of course I did! Charles, you’re the best thing that has—”

“And did your boss ask for you to write this article or was that all your idea?”

The light in his eyes have long dimmed, but your answer crushes the rest of his soul as you look down at his chest and then back at his stern glare. “It was all mine.”

It’s all a blur, and you’re sure you let out a yell when he disconnects from you and wipes his hand across the table, sending a singular plate flying before it roughly hits the floor and recklessly shatters. For a while, it’s complete silence; you can faintly hear the sound of crickets, the wind that sings, his ragged breath and your silent pleas. It’s both beautiful and ugly, all at the same time.

You’re sure to be careful and step around the porcelain dish, steadily making your way over to him. It kills you when he stumbles back as you inch closer; as if you were some type of toxin he knew best to stay away from. It took him a while, but he knew that now.

“The reason I came to the Amalfi Coast was to get away from work; the pressure, the—”

“You think you’re the only one?” he spits out sourly. “You’re not fucking special, we all have our own shit! Except some of us are decent human beings and don’t seek other people for our own benefit.” The twenty-six year old shakes his head. “Grow up.”

The room is spinning, and the walls are closing in on you, but you continue. “I never had the intention of hurting you and I swear I didn’t know who you were up until Nico. He mentioned enough for me to grow curious and that’s when I searched you up.” You release a shaky breath, chest tightening like a fist. “My parents never believed I could make a living out of journalism. No one did.”

Charles stands quietly, orbs tracing your breathless state. “I kept trying to be the best, but everyone was always five steps ahead of me, and I…” Returning your attention back up, you grimace, aware of what you’re about to confess. “And I thought having a Formula One driver as a friend might help get me there.”

When he doesn’t answer, it allows you to drown in an ocean of shame, finding it hard to face his guarded stare. As a way to pass time, you lick your salty lips, runny nose making you cringe.

“A-and then I got to know you.” Don’t do that, he warns coldly, but you push past it. The room is arctic almost, but you try to find strength and warmth in between the memories. “And for the first time in all my years of living, I felt at peace with someone who was my own reflection. You make it so easy; you’re kind, down to earth, funny in all senses, and you never fail to make my heart feel like it's going to fly out of my chest.” The rest of your words get stuck in your throat despite stupidly trying to say them out loud. Then again, he probably wouldn’t like it.

“At first I felt bad, but my hands were still able to move against my keypad; I was sure you would understand. But the more time we spent together and grew closer to one another, I knew that would never be the case. And my fingers felt stiff, they weren’t my own, but I had to do it—my job depended on it, Charles,” you whisper.

The Monegasque had never felt so conflicted in his life, not even when debating whether to resign with Ferrari. A part of him understood completely, and the other was torn. Okay, he murmurs, awkwardly pinching the tip of his nose and then releasing. “If you need this so badly, you could’ve been honest. I won’t be untruthful and say that I wouldn’t have been a bit thrown off, but not disappointed like I am now.” The blow punches a staggered breath out of you, fumbling back, dragging the chair along.

“That’s the thing though…you should have asked for permission,” he pressed, tone harsh, distant, venomous. “And yet you didn’t. You went behind my back, just like everybody else. I actually thought…” His voice cracks and he looks away, blinking rapidly as if pushing back his own tears. “God, I’ve been so stupid thinking you actually cared enough to get to know me.”

Somehow the ability to move re-enters your body, instantly drawing you closer but still giving him enough space. “I did—I do care. I care a lot. Because I’m like that—that is who I am! You’re it for me, Charles; I fucking care.” There. The words were right there once again, and yet you continue vowing anything but them. You’ve run out of breath, ran out of words, and you could only wish there was something there valuable enough for him to accept.

The brunette seems to understand your revelation, even if you think he doesn’t. It makes his heart palpitate as if he just ran a marathon and he hates it. He hates that it had to be this way. In some other dimension, he confesses first. He admits defeat because that’s how worthy you were to him. Because he loved you. And you loved him. But that’s somewhere else; somewhere far away—something far too unattainable.

“You’ve used everything against me, what more do you want?”

The waves must’ve heard your conversation because the once wild sound is now slow, gentle, soft. You almost wish they picked up for your own sake; to swallow the sound of your whimpers. “I told you about Lewis’ contract in confidence, but good for you—you’re the first one who will release the news, so, you got it. I’m sure everyone will congratulate you for that.”

“Drugs aren’t a joke, but did you really have to out me like that? It was my choice, sure, but did you even think about what will follow?” He scoffs. “You’ll get clicks, millions, but I’ll get looked down on by everyone around me. The media, my team, my fans.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind, God, why hadn’t it crossed your mind? You open your mouth and then snap it back shut. Charles runs a hand across his jaw. “But fuck, I don’t care about any of that—not as much as the pin.”

“Charles—”

“That was between you and me. My father was a clever man; a believer. I’m neither of those things, but I’ve tried my absolute best. And you’ve killed the last bit of it.” You suck in a breath; you can feel your eyes getting smaller, skin puffier. “Do you know how hard it is to have faith in yourself as a driver? It’s exhausting.” A beat. “But that golden horse was enough for me to keep going and now it’s tainted.”

There’s no more sounds flying past your lip, but the acid rain hasn’t slowed down, only intensified. “That’s the last thing I ever wanted to happen, Charles…I am so sorry.” Closing the gap in between you two, you thread your brows together softly. “If I could take it all back, I would. I would have never gotten an interview out of you without your knowledge, y-y-you have to believe me,” you plead. He only nods, green eyes flickering down to your rosy lips, then shut tight. When he opens them, it hurts, because you don’t recognize them anymore.

“You took it from me…But I would’ve given it to you.”

The atmosphere is something astonishing; the colorful fireworks, the deafening cheers, the cameras, the podium celebration—it truly took your breath away. And he deserved all of it.

It’d be half-witted to think he would agree to this; he had every right to turn you down. Rightfully so, he could have. He should have, you think to yourself as you nervously click your pen. You didn’t keep in touch after that summer, so it made perfect sense for you to think that he would look rather different.

But as he makes his way over, chatting with his PR manager, he looks just the same. Yes, he’s older; a bit more tired looking than the last time you saw him, much leaner, and his smiling crinkles have expanded like a beautiful sight. But he was still Charles to you.

“Congratulations,” you quip when he reaches you with a knowing look. Stuttering, you point over at the screen that replays his terrific race. “Y-y-you were incredible. World Champion, eh?” Complete silence. Can we get a minute to ourselves? The older lady hesitantly agrees, strolling away. You click faster, heart rate picking up as you watch her go.

The Monegasque licks his lips. “You showed up.”

Somewhere in the distance, you can hear fans screaming his name, the flashes shuttering brightly; you’re honestly impressed you were able to find a place to talk. “I said I would, no? I, um, also have this…” You extend your hand out towards him and his breath hitches,

Nothing would ever shine as bright as gold. His trophy is utter counterfeit compared to the prancing horse that winks back at him. His green eyes blink slowly for a while, almost as if he doesn’t recognize it, but that quickly dies as he reaches for it.

His simple touch grazes past you but it zaps you to the point where you jump up a bit, and he does too. The fireworks up in the open sky were doing a fantastic job at interpreting what you were feeling at that very moment. Charles clears his throat, orbs tracing his reward. His golden cup was great, but this?

“Thank you.” And it sounds so sincere that you almost release a cry. “I really appreciate you keeping your word. I know I didn’t keep mine.”

He hadn’t. But you understood. The wedding invitation had been sent to him and he never responded. He never showed up. You never figured out why you were so surprised, but you were. “You were busy. I get it.”

Tension lingers. “How’s work?”

Work was great; easier. You guess that's what happens when everyone finally applauds you. It took a lot of strength for you to publish the article, but you did it anyway. Do it, he mumbled that night as he walked out of your life for three years. Don’t let all of this be for nothing.

Running your sweaty palm against your dress, you hum. “I’m chief executive now.” The Monegasque lets out an impressed whistle and for the first time since you landed in Abu Dhabi, you smile. “Eleanor retired a while ago and apparently loves me now.”

“How could she not?” You grow stiff. “How is Grayson? I’m sure the wedding was great, by the way.”

His eyes flicker down at your ring and you beam. His heart breaks just a bit when your eyes stare down in adoration. “He’s amazing—he’s right over there, actually.” Your husband is far enough away, but he could still see it all. The little boy giggles up at his father and you laugh.

Charles smiles. “I’m happy for you. I really am.”

“Thank you. But tell me, champ; how do you feel? This shit doesn’t happen everyday, now does it?”

“A lot of work and patience, but it all worked out at the end. Which I’m glad because I was close to blowing my brains out.” You playfully pout, red lips curling into a familiar look.

“Still going to stick around?”

“A couple years or so…” His gaze shifts over at the rest of the grid who eye you two suspiciously. Even to them it was clear that there is history that will always remain. “I think I could do it.”

You tilt your head, hair falling over your shoulder. “I know you can, Cha.” The newly World Champion freezes and then shakes his head, avoiding your vibrant eyes. “Question,” you mumble.

“Ears,” he retorts, voice painted with humor.

“Do you ever…” You’re too embarrassed to finish your sentence, too afraid to face the possible answer. The Monegasque chuckles, a single hand over his heart and it takes you back to your last day with him in Italy where the weather was perfect.

“No regrets.”

His confirmation shouldn’t have been enough to reduce your forever heartbreak, but it manages enough. Releasing a weak exhale, you curiously peek over to where he retreats a gem. Your gem. The shiny pearl radiates, nearly making you blind, but it's new look is something that tugs at your heartstrings.

“Where did you…how did you?”

He shrugs, slipping it onto your ring finger; but on the right hand as the left now had an owner you loved back. “A friend of mine proposed to his girlfriend a while ago and I had it laying around and I just…” You blink with glossy eyes. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” A wet laugh slips out, hugging him like a blanket. You chew on your bottom lip. “I’m so happy you kept it safe; thank you so much.” He blushes, large hands brushing his damp hair back. “You know, sometimes…sometimes I think about you.” His name is mentioned on the large screen, but he’s not concerned by any means. Green eyes are focused on you; they always have been. “It’s mainly in the shape of a nightmare, but hey…” He winces. You continue. “It’s not your fault though, I brought it upon myself. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

“You shouldn’t have.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “But don’t worry about it anymore; I forgive you.”

You can’t help but throw your arms over his shoulders. You don’t even care how sweaty he is, you don’t at all. You’ve kissed him twice in your life, but this had to be the best interaction you’ve had. You didn’t deserve it—you were well aware—but he had always been kind. Even to people like you.

Hot tears slide against his red fireproofs and he doesn’t dare pull away. Your sweet scent was still the same, but more mature. Your body was just as he remembered, but he could feel the small belly forming; you’re someone's home. He swears he feels a kick and his heart stops. Alas, you pull away with a rosy nose and swollen eyes. You giggle, wiping your teardrops.

“I think about you all the time, too.” He fiddles with his fingers. “But mine aren’t nightmares; they’re dreams.” A heave leaves you, pursing your lips. “They’re blurry, but they’re my favorite. In them, you didn’t step all over my heart. In them, you’re mine. And in them, I’m yours.” The pearl glistens harder. “And in them, I tell the truth that’s stuck with me from the moment you stepped foot on stage, rusty microphone in hand.”

He must think you’re having a breakdown by the way you crazily stare at him, but you’re not. You practice the shape of his nose, his lips, his brows. You admire his freckles, his watercolor eyes. Since when did they have a pinch of gray?

Charles takes a step towards you, but gets caught by the gate that separates you both. It’s up to his hips and he curses for it even being there. But then again; it was a sign. You must realize that too when you sigh sadly, delicate hands tracing the cold metal. “I loved you then.” A beat. “And I love you now.”

A sob is all heard as your face disappears, pressed against your hands, hiding. They grow louder and everyone must assume he made the pretty journalist cry or maybe it was her pregnancy. Maybe it was both. Separating to look up at him, you smile melancholic. “Do I even have to tell you too?”

“You don’t have to,” he clarifies. “Because I know.”

The feeling was bittersweet; it was more than that, but you would survive. Everything will forever stay in the Amalfi Coast, and you will cherish it all.

The Monegasque knocked out on the beach. The bar. Nico. The AirBnB. The love. The heartbreak.

Both ends were content. You would never truly get over that last summer, but you had others to care for now. He would never truly heal, but for now his job kept him busy. You were both at your prime. Just not together.

Clicking your pen, you nudge your notebook with a weak smile.

“Charles Leclerc, first time World Champion…Can I have an interview with you?”

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