#Rhythmic Punctuation

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 09 Chapter 09 | sparks and schemes⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The pre-dawn light filtered through your curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gray and blue. You stirred, a slow smile playing on your lips as you remembered the night's events months ago.

The thought of attending U.A., a mere suggestion transformed into a reality, held a strange allure. It wasn't the prospect of heroism that excited you, but the promise of something new, a crack in the monotony of your existence.

Reaching for your phone, you saw a message from Bakugo.

𝐏𝐎𝐌-𝐏𝐎𝐌 𝐏𝐔𝐏 Be at the entrance by 7:30 sharp Don't be late. Or else.

The last sentence was punctuated with a single, explosive exclamation mark, a classic Bakugo signature. You chuckled softly, a low rumble in your chest. "Good puppy," you murmured to yourself, the nickname taking on a new meaning in your mind.

The rest of the morning unfolded in a leisurely manner. Unlike Bakugo, who likely woke up at the crack of dawn and launched himself into some pre-exam training ritual, you opted for a more relaxed approach.

You lounged around in your room, absentmindedly squeezing and stretching one of your mother's many stress balls. Each satisfying squish was a small rebellion against the looming entrance exam, a reminder that the facade of normalcy you maintained still held some power.

As you contemplated the upcoming challenges, a detached amusement settled over you. You envisioned the predictable strategies of the other hopeful heroes, and found yourself lacking any real sense of anticipation. It all seemed so… ordinary.

Just then, the shrill blare of your alarm clock pierced the quiet. With a sigh, you acknowledged that even an eternity could feel dull after a while. The entrance exam awaited, and with it, a chance to stir things up a bit.

A glint of something akin to excitement flickered in your yellow eyes.

☆

☆

You arrived at the bustling entrance of U.A. High, the air thick with nervous energy. Students milled about, a cacophony of excited chatter and worried mumbles filling the air.

Many wore the familiar uniforms of middle schools across the city, their faces a mix of determined anticipation and nervous trepidation.

There were fewer students in your own school uniform, a fact you noted with a detached curiosity.

Dodging a group of overenthusiastic students launching into a mock battle with invisible opponents, you were about to turn a corner and find a quiet spot to observe the chaos when you were suddenly slammed into by a blur of pink.

A yelp escaped the source of the collision, a girl who shot back upright with impressive speed. She bowed deeply, her apologies tumbling out in a rapid-fire stream of words. "Oh my Gods, I am so incredibly sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and—"

She cut herself off as she finally got a good look at you. Her large, black sclerae widened, the yellow irises in the center seeming to vibrate. A deep blush bloomed across her cheeks, the light pink of her skin turning a shade closer to crimson.

You tilted your head, a bemused smile playing on your lips. For a moment, you thought you might have broken her, or perhaps she'd hit her head during the collision.

Reaching out cautiously, you brushed a finger against the side of her face, expecting to encounter some sort of injury. Your finger met smooth skin, cool and flawless.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" you asked, your voice laced with a gentle concern that came naturally to you, a habit you'd picked up from your overly nurturing mother. Internally, you cursed your ingrained politeness, wondering if a more callous approach might have been more appropriate.

The girl seemed to short-circuit for a moment, her already wide eyes bulging even further. She stammered, her words tripping over each other in a frantic jumble. Finally, she managed to blurt out a single, incoherent sentence.

"Y-you're so hot, oh my Gods, ignore me!" With that, she spun on her heel and bolted away, her pink curls bouncing with each hurried step.

You blinked, left standing there with a bewildered expression slowly morphing into amusement. Here you were, about to infiltrate the most prestigious hero academy in the country, and your first encounter was with a lovestruck ball of pink. 

It was a bizarre start to the day, a stark contrast to the steely resolve you'd steeled yourself with. But a flicker of amusement danced in your yellow eyes. U.A. was certainly proving to be... interesting.

"Well, wasn't that an exit," a voice drawled, snapping you out of your thoughts. Turning your head, you came face to face with a boy who looked every bit the part of a bored aristocrat.

He was of average height, his blond hair styled in a way that seemed designed to perpetually obscure one eye. His periwinkle blue irises, framed by dark lashes, were half-closed in a look of perpetual disdain. A sardonic smirk played on his lips, completing the picture of someone utterly unimpressed by the bustling activity around him.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this unexpected encounter.

There was something about him, a subtle aura of entitlement mixed with a hint of hidden potential, that piqued your curiosity.

While the other students exuded nervous energy or boisterous enthusiasm, this blond boy stood out with his air of detached amusement.

A faint whisper, "Denji," echoed in your head, a fleeting association you couldn't help but cling onto.

Deciding to give him a bit of your time, you tilted your head slightly, your yellow eyes meeting his half-closed gaze. "I'll say," you replied, your voice laced with a playful challenge. Turning your full attention towards him, you gestured towards the fleeing pinkette. "Am I that hideous that I make people run away screaming?"

The boy regarded you for a moment, a low hum escaping his lips. He seemed to ponder your question for a beat before offering a nonchalant, "Maybe, let me see." With that, he took a casual step forward, invading your personal space to get a better look at you.

You were decked out in your Aldera Junior High uniform: a classic black blazer with white and red trim hugged your frame, paired with a crisp white collared shirt and a vibrant red tie. A pleated skirt stopped just above your knees, showcasing your toned legs clad in white socks that disappeared into practical black loafers.

Your stance radiated a cool confidence, a blend of defiance and preparedness that spoke volumes about your personality.

As the sunlight fell upon you, you seemed to take on an almost ethereal glow. Your fluffy, red hair, styled in loose twists, framed your face like a halo. But it was your eyes that truly captivated the blond boy. The bright yellow irises held him in a gaze that was both intense and strangely alluring.

His reaction mirrored that of the pink girl—a blush bloomed across his cheeks, spreading like wildfire across his pale skin. He seemed momentarily speechless, his usual smirk replaced by a look of stunned admiration.

Finding his reaction humorous, a genuine smile played on your lips. You broke the silence with a playful tilt of your head, stepping closer until you were mere inches from him.

This close, he could see the faint dusting of freckles sprinkled across your nose, a charming imperfection you'd inherited from your mother.

"Well, am I ugly?" you purred, raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

The boy stammered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. "Y-you..." he sputtered, completely flustered by your sudden proximity and the unexpected beauty he found himself face-to-face with. This wasn't how he'd expected his day to begin.

A slow smile spread across your face, the amusement clear in your yellow eyes. This unexpected encounter had been... enlightening.

With a playful wink and a final, teasing smile, you turned away, leaving the lovestruck blond speechless in your wake.

No need to linger any longer; the real game was elsewhere.

Fishing your phone from your pocket, you scanned Bakugo's latest message, a crudely drawn map leading to some secluded corner of the school. A satisfied hum escaped your lips. Perfect.

Just then, a gruff voice boomed from a few feet away, shattering the bubble of amusement you'd created. "Don't stand in front of me. I'll kill you."

You recognized the voice instantly. Turning your head slightly, you witnessed the explosive arrival of Katsuki Bakugo. He stormed past a familiar green-haired boy, leaving a trail of nervous mumbles in his wake.

"Erk... M-Morning! L-Let's both do our best!" Midoriya stammered, scrambling out of Bakugo's way. His voice, filled with a mix of fear and nervous determination, rang out clearly.

Several students murmured amongst themselves, their voices filled with a mixture of awe and apprehension. "Hey, isn't that Bakugo? The one with the Sludge Villain?" one whispered. "Oh, he's the real thing!" another chimed in, his voice tinged with excitement.

You watched the scene unfold with a detached amusement. Seeing Bakugo effortlessly command attention, even amidst the chaos of the entrance exam, reminded you of the volatile energy he brought to everything he did.

A small smile played on your lips. Perhaps blending into the background wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

There was no need for additional attention on your first day at U.A.

Letting Bakugo be the center of the storm might be the most strategic move. You slipped away, disappearing into the crowd behind like a phantom.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket—a text from Bakugo undoubtedly. You ignored it, already finding a secluded corner that offered a clear view of the remaining students trickling in.

One face in particular caught your eye. Sitting a few rows ahead was Yumi, her presence was unmistakable. Her long, flowing hair, a vibrant shade of soft lime green—a clear inheritance from her father, Hiro, cascading down her back.

Complementing her striking hair, her soft lavender eyes, a gift from her mother, Shihsuki, mirrored the enchanting hues of twilight. They held a practiced charm, a reflection of her mother's Quirk.

You knew her Quirk, 'Absolute,' allowed her to get whatever she wanted—a power fueled by pure confidence. It was a fascinating Quirk, a twisted version of her mother's ability to draw people in and her father's knack for creation, all rolled into one.

However, the Quirk had a drawback. Yumi ran on confidence, and any situation that threatened her self-assuredness could backfire spectacularly, amplifying negativity around her. You mentally filed that information away—an interesting detail to keep in mind.

Yumi, oblivious to your scrutiny, was busy chatting with a group of girls. Her beauty mark, a tiny dot below her left eye, seemed to glitter as she laughed, her Quirk weaving its subtle magic.

You watched with a detached curiosity, wondering if her act would hold up under pressure. The entrance exam was notorious for weeding out the weak-willed, and Yumi's confidence, however potent, could crumble under the right circumstances.

You'd never had any personal issues with her, but a nagging suspicion gnawed at you that she was the one that despised your presence.

Ever since Yumi discovered the connection between you and Bakugo, a strange coldness seemed to settle in her demeanor whenever you were around.

A flashback flickered through your mind, transporting you back to a free period weeks ago.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

You were nestled comfortably in your usual seat by the window, engrossed in a book about the controversial theories and experiments of Doctor Pavolos.

A shadow fell over your page, momentarily blocking the light. Looking up, you came face-to-face with Yumi, her brow furrowed in a deep frown. Her arms were crossed defensively, and two of her friends flanked her on either side, their faces mirroring Yumi's disapproval.

"What brings you, Yumi?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow in question. Your parents had remained close friends with Hiro and Shisuki despite the unfortunate event that took palce a couple of years ago, and it had been assumed you and Yumi would naturally become best friends.

However, that bond never truly formed, leaving a gap that Yumi's current frosty demeanor only served to highlight.

Yumi rolled her eyes, her disdain thinly veiled. "My mom," she drawled, her voice dripping with forced sweetness, "thought maybe you could, like, tutor me or something." A snicker escaped her lips, quickly echoed by her giggling minions. They leaned in conspiratorially, their hushed whispers aimed at you. You could practically hear the words "ugly" and "stupid" laced with malice.

Before Yumi's charade could escalate further, a familiar voice cut through the air. Ignoring you completely, Bakugo stomped over to your desk. With a characteristic grunt, he tossed a bag of your favorite potato chips and a carton of strawberry milk tea onto your desk. "You need to stop leaving home without lunch, dumbass," he barked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and retreated back to his seat across the room, his group of followers trailing after him like a pack of wolves. Yumi, momentarily frozen, finally found her voice. "You... you know Bakugo-kun?" she stammered, her voice laced with disbelief and a hint of something... bitter?

You shrugged, nonplussed by her reaction. "Know of him," you replied simply, your gaze returning to your book.

The encounter ended there, but it marked a shift in Yumi's behavior towards you. Her once indifferent attitude morphed into something akin to hostility. Her quips and taunts became more frequent, especially when Bakugo wasn't around.

It was clear she harbored a not-so-secret crush on the explosive blond, and seeing him acknowledge you, even in his own gruff way, had ignited a spark of envy within her.

The memory faded, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Yumi's behavior was childish, but it served as a reminder of how inferior human emotions were, especially when jealousy reared its ugly head.

Of course, you could have easily neutralized Yumi's hostility with your powers, but causing a scene wouldn't exactly help you blend in. In fact, it would achieve the opposite.

You thrived in the shadows, manipulating situations from a distance. There was the unfortunate incident with the new literature teacher, who lasted a mere week after harshly critiquing your well-written paper. (In reality, the man's envy over your intelligence and his subsequent humiliation after you corrected him in class fueled a strange "accident" that led to his swift departure.)

A mischievous glint sparked in your yellow eyes. Using your control ability, you latched onto the hearing of a small rat scurrying near a hulking student in the back of the room. The boy's head resembled a rough-hewn rock, and various critters nestled comfortably on his broad shoulders. The rat, drawn by the scent of crumbs, scampered towards Yumi's group, providing you with the perfect opportunity to eavesdrop.

Yumi's voice, laced with a sickening amount of sweetness, filled your borrowed ears. "Finally, Bakugo will be mine," she gushes, unaware of the listening ears. "No one, especially not her," she sneers, referring to you, "can stand in my way."

Her minions echo her sentiments, their voices a chorus of agreement and disdain. "Yeah, she's got no chance," one chimes in, emboldened by Yumi's confidence. 

Yumi, however, snapped at her, her voice laced with a sharp edge. "He was never interested in her! They were just childhood friends or something, nothing more!" she hissed, her carefully constructed facade momentarily crumbling.

The implication that your bond with Bakugo was insignificant, a mere childhood connection easily forgotten, sent a spark of fury coursing through you.

How dare she speak of your Bakugo... your pet, as if he were some prize to be claimed?

A predatory smirk filled your face. The entrance exam was about to begin, but it seemed you'd have a little pre-game entertainment first. Dealing with Yumi's inflated sense of self-importance was a task you could relish in.

Just as Present Mic boomed, "For all you examinee listeners tuning in, welcome to my show today! Everybody say "hey"!" you focused your control on the rat near Yumi. With a silent command, you sent it scurrying up her leg.

Surprised by the sudden movement, Yumi yelped and instinctively looked in your direction. Seizing the opportunity, you reached out with your Quirk, subtly manipulating her nervous energy.

The effect was instantaneous. Yumi's eyes widened as she launched into a booming reply to Present Mic's welcome, her voice echoing through the previously silent auditorium. "Heeeyyyy!"

Everyone's attention snapped towards the lime-haired girl, their gazes filled with a mixture of shock and amusement.

Present Mic, oblivious to your manipulation, pumped his fist in the air, mistaking Yumi's outburst for enthusiasm. "That's what I'm talking about, listeners; bring the spirit!" he cheered, further escalating the bizarre situation.

From your vantage point, you watched with detached satisfaction as Yumi's Quirk instantly backfired. Her usually vibrant green hair dimmed, mirroring her plummeting confidence. Her minions, once fueled by her Quirk to hype and covet, turned on her, their whispers laced with snide remarks.

Yumi stammered, desperately trying to regain control, but her voice came out in weak, pathetic snaps. "I—I just got a little carried away, that's all!" But her retorts fell flat, drowned out by her own nervousness and the crowd's growing murmurs.

Present Mic, ever the showman, continued his presentation. "Then I'll quickly present to you the rundown on the practical exam! Are you ready?! Yeah!" Once again, you exerted your influence, amplifying Yumi's anxieties. This time, she couldn't hold back.

With a startled yelp, Yumi jumped to her feet, her voice cracking as she echoed Present Mic's question at an ear-splitting volume. "Oh, I'm ready!" Her shout echoed, far too loud and far too earnest, drawing stares and snickers.

Bakugo, who had been observing the scene with a bored expression, let out a disgusted scoff. "Jeez, what a clowny extra," loud enough for those nearby to hear. His words, laden with contempt, seemed to echo in the suddenly quiet room, sealing Yumi's fate as the object of ridicule.

The final blow.

Tears welled up in Yumi's eyes as the auditorium erupted in stifled laughter. Shame burned on her cheeks, turning her face a vibrant shade of crimson. Without a backward glance, she bolted from the hall, tears streaming down her face.

You let out a satisfied hum, your prank complete.

Turning your attention back to Present Mic, you settled in to listen to the rest of the exam instructions, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Who knew presentations could be so entertaining?

***guess who the two unamed people were, 👀. and if you're wondering are they in the upcoming growing harem??? yeath....anywho, i have about 8 more prewriteen chapters so after ch.17, updates won't be as quick and sparodic as this, but no worries! Summer break begins May 4 for me 🥳🥳 until next updates, lovelies~

#Faster than last week #winxanity-ii Badge image. #⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 08 #Chapter 08 | conditioning the flame⌟ #╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝ #❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘ #The pre-dawn sky bled a pale orange over the ragged silhouettes of trees in the abandoned park. A cool mist clung to the ground #swirling around your feet as you finished a series of stretches. #Opposite you stood Bakugo #his explosive blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His ragged breaths echoed in the stillness #punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of his heart. #The previous hour had been relentless. You'd pushed him through a gauntlet of sprints through the woods #dodging fallen logs and leaping over rocky outcrops. #Now #you were sparring #your movements a blur as you danced around his explosive attacks. #A well-placed side-step brought you behind him #and you delivered a sharp kick to his back #sending him staggering forward. He stumbled #catching himself on a groan-worthy grunt. You stood tall #arms crossed #a critical look on your face. #you conceded #your voice devoid of praise. “But it's not enough.” You crouched low #reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead. #‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes

[aminta]

heres my hot grammatical take from your local annoying writing major but i think most examples of "comma splices" are just dumb as fuck

#op #like yeah theres some times where its painfully incorrect but also sometimes its just not that bad.... sometimes rhythmically the comma #sounds the best there without a conjunction or another punctuation mark.....

[omgeto]

☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop. 

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours. 

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised.  ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer. 

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art. 

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know. 

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you. 

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force. 

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere. 

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.” 

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

#stampedwithanE★ #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

[hoshifighting]

Ways to Have a Man in the Palm of Your Hand.

Synopsis: In the flow of uncertainty that defined your situationship with Mingyu, you decide to take action, making Mingyu start chasing after you like a loyal puppy.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation, begging on knees, oral (f. receiving), fingering– he watches reader fingering herself, handjob, dick riding, penetrative sex, humiliating, manipulation and etc.

Your life connected with Mingyu's since you both first met through your groups of friends, and a situationship had emerged between you two. It was just sex, with no strings attached and no promises made.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, it became challenging to keep your heart safe from the unpredictable tides of emotion.

Mingyu had a way of making you feel special. He'd surprise you with homemade dinners, he was attentive, considerate, and made sure to put your self-esteem on the highest with his skillful photography.

The tall and good-looking guy wasn't just amazing during sex; he was an enigma that both fascinated and frustrated you. Mingyu could vanish for days, leaving you on blue. But just as you were about to write him off, he'd resurface, as if nothing had happened. It was a maddening cycle, and yet, you found yourself caught in its web.

Mingyu: Hey! Been swamped asf with work lately. Let's grab coffee or something stronger soon? Let me know when you're free!

You couldn't help but scoff as you read Mingyu's message. His casual tone and nonchalant invitation stirred a mix of irritation and amusement within you. Swiftly typing a response, you questioned his unpredictable appearances.

You: Are you planning on always popping up out of nowhere like this?

Mingyu: I always come back, don't I? So, when are we catching up darling?

Despite the inner conflict and your ego's warning signals, there was an undeniable allure to Mingyu's charm. His words, laced with playfulness, had a magnetic effect that bypassed rational thoughts. With a sigh, you found yourself succumbing to the familiar pull.

The room was filled with the echoes of skin slapping as you both lay on Mingyu's bed, your eyes locked as you two moaned out loud, the crescendo of pleasure punctuated by the rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall.

Mingyu lays beside you, the heat of the moment still lingering between your bodies. You rose from the tangled sheets, picking up your scattered clothes. Mingyu's gaze remained fixed on you, an intensity that betrayed a deeper connection than the situationship allowed. 

"I really like spending time with you Y/N" 

"Me too Gyu." 

[...]

Seungkwan leaned in "Okay, spill. What's the latest drama with Mingyu?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Honestly, I can't figure him out. It's like a cycle. We talk every day for a month, hang out, fuck, and then poof! He disappears for a week or more. I don't get it."

Seungkwan chuckled knowingly. "You know, maybe you should try something. Do the same to him, but take it up a notch. Make him miss you even more."

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly taken aback. "Seungkwan, I'm not into playing games or being spiteful. It's not my style."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, hear me out. It's not about being spiteful. It's about making him realize what he's missing. Mingyu knows you'll always be there, right? So, he takes it for granted. Maybe he needs a taste of his own medicine."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "And how exactly do I do that?"

Your mouth hung open as Seungkwan delivered his comprehensive lesson in the art of emotional tactics. The confidence in his advice left you both amazed and slightly apprehensive. Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you finally asked the burning question.

"How on earth do you know all of this, Seungkwan?" you inquired, eyes wide with disbelief.

Seungkwan leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, my dear friend, when you've been in the game as long as I have and witnessed enough romantic dramas unfold, you start picking up on patterns. It's like a survival guide for the heart."

You raised an eyebrow, still processing the information. "Survival guide, huh? And all this contempt, playing hard to get, and hurting egos – that's your secret weapon?"

Seungkwan chuckled, "Not a secret weapon, sometimes, a little strategic move can make all the difference. Trust me, I've seen it all."

With Seungkwan's advice resonating in your mind like a strategic playbook, you approached the next phase of your relationship with Mingyu, with a newfound determination. It felt like diving into a complex homework assignment, each step carefully calculated to shift the dynamics in your favor.

As you decided to implement the first step, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. You stopped responding to Mingyu's messages immediately and resisted the urge to initiate contact. It felt strange at first, but there was a sense of power in reclaiming your time and not being at his beck and call. Mingyu's messages awaited your attention. 

The challenge of making Mingyu realize he could lose you sparked a newfound determination. Your calendar filled up with plans that didn't involve Mingyu. Mingyu, accustomed to your constant availability, seemed to sense the change, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. He might have been the object of desire for many hoes, but your indifference challenged his accustomed narrative. 

After all, a man is not more important than your personal goals, right?

All while allowing Mingyu to observe your life unfolding without him. The realization that you were not waiting by the phone for him sparked a large curiosity.

Throughout the process, a mix of emotions surfaced. Doubt, at times, whispered in the back of your mind – was this the right approach? Seungkwan's advice, unconventional as it was, had brought a shift in Mingyu's behavior. Now, you wondered how Mingyu would respond to the transformed version of you – a person who refused to be taken for granted.

Mingyu's relentless messages flooded your phone. The janitor, a silent witness to the unfolding drama, discreetly shared the news of Mingyu's visits to your condominium entrance. Three times he had appeared, seeking a glimpse of you, only to be met with the absence of your presence, the deliberate distance, and the air of indifference were beginning to provoke a reaction from him.

You were determined to see this journey through, to understand whether Mingyu's renewed interest was genuine or a fleeting reaction to the perceived loss of control.

The persistent pings of Mingyu's messages had become a constant background noise in your life, infiltrating your workdays and even interrupting the serene moments of your brunches.

"Free today, Ms. Busy?"

"Pls respond to me. :(("

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Wtf…"

"Omggg, when are you going to answer me properly?"

"I'll invade your house."

"Y/N-ieeee, pleaseee!"

"I really want to see you right now."

"You make me so confused :("

The encounter at the pedestrian crossing unfolded in a scene of unexpected tension. Mingyu, spotting you in the midst of your Sunday morning run with Seungkwan, seized the opportunity to bridge the gap that had grown between you. As you halted, waiting for the light to change, Mingyu approached, a mixture of eagerness and confusion etched across his face.

"Hey there! Fancy meeting you here," Mingyu greeted, attempting to strike up a conversation.

Seungkwan, standing beside you, looked on with a side-eyed glance, a smirk playing on his lips as he sipped casually from his water bottle. As the pedestrian light shifted to green, you seized the moment to extricate yourself from the short encounter. "Sorry, Mingyu, I really need to finish my morning walk. Catch you later," you excused yourself, leaving Mingyu standing there, perplexed and surrounded by the bustling activity of the street.

He couldn't shake off the confusion – Why weren't you responding as before? Why weren't you as available as you used to be? Did you at least still like him? It dawned on Mingyu that the game had changed, and he wasn't sure if he understood the rules anymore. The pursuit, once fueled by the expectation of your constant availability, now seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. The reality of being just one among the many who sought your attention was a bitter pill to swallow.

[...]

The doorbell's unexpected chime disrupted the tranquility of your self-care routine, with moisturized skin and a mind ready for a cozy movie night, you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

As you swung the door open, the sulky face of Mingyu greeted you. A momentary pause hung in the air, your eyes meeting his in silent expectation. Before you could utter a word, Mingyu stepped inside, dropping to his knees and hugging your legs as if seeking solace.

Surprised by his sudden display of vulnerability, you widen your eyes, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction. The door lingered ajar, and you managed to close it, arms crossed, a mixture of confusion and caution etched on your face.

Mingyu, still hugging your legs, looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice laden with remorse. "What did I do, Y/N? Why are you treating me like this? I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

He looked up at you, his eyes brimming with a mix of confusion and regret. "I just… I don' understand. I miss you," he admitted, his voice trailing off.

Your initial surprise transformed into a mix of emotions – disbelief, a hint of empathy, and the need to assert your newfound boundaries. Crossed arms and a measured gaze met Mingyu's desperate expression. The sudden intrusion into your personal space prompted a silent assessment of the situation.

"What did you expect, Mingyu?" you countered, your voice steady but laced with the weight of unspoken questions. "You disappear, then reappear, and now you're kneeling in my living room. What's going on?"

"I messed up, okay? I thought I could keep things casual, but I didn't expect to feel like this. I miss the way things used to be between us." he confessed, his voice carrying a raw honesty.

"You ask me to come to your house, and then after you get what you wanted, you let me go. Do I look like a food delivery or something?" you confronted Mingyu, your words cutting through the charged silence that hung in the room.

Mingyu's eyes widened at your accusation, shock and a hint of hurt registering on his face. "No, no, no, Y/N, it wasn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and frustration evident in your expression. "It feels like you only want me around when it's convenient for you."

Mingyu, still on his knees, looked up at you, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It's not like that. I just... I didn't want to push you. I thought you preferred it this way."

You sighed, the weight of the unresolved tension palpable. "Mingyu, I can't read your mind. If you want me to stay, you have to say it. Communication goes both ways."

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry. I'll do whatever you want. I didn't see you as just a fleeting thing, and I want to be present."

Mingyu's earnest apology hung in the air, a plea for understanding and a promise to change. As he laid his face on your bare thighs, expressing his sincere regret, you cut through the moment with a tsk sound, a dismissive gesture that left him wide-eyed and caught off guard.

"Poor boy, begging on his knees for attention. What a shame," you remarked, a hint of teasing in your voice as you observed his reaction.

Mingyu, his hands now gripping each side of your thighs, sat back on his feet, his expression a mix of surprise and a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He hadn't anticipated this response, your playful teasing catching him off guard.

"You didn't see me as a fleeting thing?" you continued, your tone mockingly contemplative. "Well, Mingyu, this is quite a sight – you, on your knees, practically begging for my attention. I'd never do something like this."

His widened eyes met yours, uncertainty and a trace of embarrassment flickering in them. Mingyu's bit his lip, cheeks flushing deeper.

"I'll do whatever you want, Y/N. Just tell me," Mingyu replied, his hands still holding your thighs.

You let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair as you continued your teasing. "Oh, Mingyu-ah, the mighty one on his knees. Maybe you'll learn to appreciate what you have when it's not handed to you on a silver platter. Now, let's see if you can keep up with your promises."

As you spoke, Mingyu's cheeks continued to flush, a complex dance of emotions playing out on his face.  "How can you forgive me?" 

Mingyu's question hung in the air, a genuine plea for forgiveness. You paused, considering the weight of his words, before adopting a more serious tone.

"Get up," you instructed him, your voice carrying a command that seemed to catch him off guard.

Mingyu, without hesitation, rose to his feet from his submissive position. His eyes fixed on you. An arched eyebrow and a smirk played on your face, savoring the moment of dominance as you instructed him to follow you.

The atmosphere grew charged with anticipation as Mingyu attentively trailed behind you, his eyes inevitably drawn to your body covered only by a shirt. The click of your bedroom door signaled a shift in the dynamics, and when you turned to face him, his eagerness manifested in an attempted kiss.

Your finger halted his advance, a calculated pause preceding your question, "Do you think you deserve to kiss me?"

Mingyu, his eyes reflecting a mix of longing and remorse, shook his head no. Your smirk deepened as you delivered a verdict that left him whimpering.

"Then you won't kiss me today."

A whimper escaped Mingyu's lips, a sound that echoed the frustration and desire that simmered beneath the surface. The unexpected turn of events had left him yearning for a connection, yet you, in your assertive control, denied him that solace.

As the tension hung in the air, Mingyu's eyes glistened with unshed tears. The dynamics between you had taken a surprising turn, a power play that left both of you navigating the intricate threads of desire, forgiveness, and the consequences of a maybe – ex-complicated situationship.

With a commanding tone, you instructed Mingyu to kneel once again, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. He obeyed, sinking down to his knees with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. The air in the room crackled with a palpable tension as you laid down the terms.

"If you act like a good boy, maybe I'll forgive you," you declared, your voice carrying a hint of authority.

Mingyu nodded earnestly, a silent pledge to abide by your terms. As you proceeded to remove your shirt, next your pantie, allowing it to fall to the floor, the atmosphere became charged with a new layer of intensity. 

"How much do you want this pussy Mingyu?" you inquired, the question hanging in the air as you observed Mingyu's reaction. His shoulders slumped, a subtle expression of desire and longing evident on his face.

"A lot," he moaned, the words escaping his lips with a mixture of need and surrender. Your legs spread open, an invitation too tempting, as he feels his mouth waters at the view. 

"Open your mouth," you commanded Mingyu, your voice carrying an air of authority. He complied without hesitation, anticipation flickering in his eyes.

As he held his mouth open, you slid two fingers inside, the intimate contact a subtle exploration of boundaries and desire. Mingyu's tongue teased your fingers, a provocative dance that elicited a hiss from you.

"No teasing," you admonished, a note of warning in your voice. With a swift motion, you delivered a little slap to his chin as you withdrew your fingers from his mouth. The air crackled with a newfound tension, a moment that blurred the lines between control and submission.

Mingyu furrowed his eyebrows, as he watched your fingers slowly disappearing inside of your cunt, your fingers and your slick gushes out of you, and all he can do is watch. He sits patiently on his feet, watching your fingers leaving and entering your pussy in a too provocative rhythm. His bottom lip quivering to the desire of eating you out.

"Please Y/N…"

"What?''

"Please, let me eat you out, it looks so good…"

To tease him even more, you fastened your fingers, moaning while your cunt sounded like Mingyu's favorite song, wet, luscious, mouthwatering, appetizing, tempting. He cries out, his hands together on his lap. "Please, I beg you, I missed you so bad." 

The room was charged with a blend of anticipation and surrender as you stopped, taking a moment to look at Mingyu's mournful face. The desire in his eyes was palpable, and the silent plea for what he had begged for lingered in the air.

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to fulfill his request. Mingyu, starved and eager, approached the task with a concentration that hinted at a deep desire to please you. As he held you with a gentle yet fervent touch, mouthing your pussy, licking you clean, his focus on your pleasure was unwavering. The way he clung to you conveyed a fear of losing you, made you mewl as he sucked your clit, you held onto the sheets, a silent anchor in the sea of sensations. Mingyu's devotion and the way he concentrated on your pleasure only intensified the building release within you. Like a wave, you're cumming all over his mouth and chin, he hums in response flickering your clit with his tongue.

"Enough." You breathe out, closing your legs. "Strip, and lay for me." 

Mingyu rose from the floor, a determined look on his face, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort his knees might be feeling. The sounds of his clothing being discarded echoed in the room, punctuated by the soft thud as he settled onto the bed. The mattress shifted as he moved closer, his warm touch caressing your arm.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, a hint of curiosity and desire lingering in the air.

"Don't touch me," you instructed Mingyu, your tone carrying a note of command as you climbed onto his lap. Leaving him momentarily frozen, his hands hovering in the air, uncertain of where to go.

The close proximity of his cock intensified the wetness between your thighs. Mingyu, eager and responsive, looked at you with a mix of desire and restraint, his hands now cautiously placed together on his chest.

The atmosphere crackled with a blend of dominance and submission as you straddled Mingyu, humping your wet pussy against his cock, your movements deliberate and provocative. His moans in response to your degrading words only heightened the intensity of the moment.

"Oh my god, look at you," you cooed, your voice a mix of mockery and desire. "I just stopped paying attention to you, and you came fucking begging me to talk with you. You're humiliating, Mingyu."

His moans, a symphony of pleasure and submission, filled the room. Mingyu's response to your degrading words conveyed a complex dance of desire and self-awareness. The acknowledgment that he deserved the degradation.

The room filled with a momentary hush as you sank your hips, Mingyu's length now fully inside. He shut his eyes, a silent surrender to the sensations that enveloped him. 

The unspoken admission hung in the air—though you wouldn't openly admit it, there was a trace of longing, a subtle acknowledgment that, despite the complexities, you had missed him a little. The air became charged with a mix of desire and restraint as your hips rode him, his length fully fulfilling the connection between you.

His angry tip brushed against that special spot, sending a surge of pleasure through both of you, cause now, you were so tight around him. "I'm going to cum, f-fuck"

"You better not." 

The charged atmosphere intensified as you edged Mingyu, denying him release, while simultaneously relishing in the control you held over his pleasure. He gasped for air, his eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to hold back as your dominating presence and the sensations of your movements threatened to overwhelm him.

Your hips moved with a purposeful intensity, driving him to the edge, and his body contorted in a desperate attempt to maintain control. The struggle was evident in the way his breath hitched and his eyes rolled back, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure that surged through him.

"I-I can't hold it anymore," he stuttered, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

"If you cum, I will-"

The moment of release was inevitable. Mingyu's hot cum filled you, triggering your own orgasm, he cried out your name, making your wall clench harder around him.

As Mingyu managed a string of apologies, you allowed him to slide out of you, leaving his lap coated with both of your arousal, your legs damp with his seed. 

The scoff echoed in the room, a mix of amusement and assertion. However, your actions spoke a different language. As you tighten your legs around the sides of Mingyu's legs, restraining his movement, your hands take control, pumping his cock fast. The focus on his red tip elicited a loud cry from Mingyu, his back lifting off the mattress in response to the overstimulation.

The wet sounds filled the bedroom as the intensity of your touch drove him to the edge. Mingyu's hands gripped the pillow beneath his head, a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the whirlwind of sensations that consumed him.

As Mingyu's body trembled under the heightened sensations, he felt a knot tightening in his abdomen, a sensation he hadn't anticipated. The overwhelming intensity built up to a point where he couldn't contain it anymore. A primal scream tore from his lips, his body convulsing in the throes of another orgasm.

His cum pooled on his abdomen, a physical manifestation of the powerful release that coursed through him. You observed his trembling body, struck by the raw intensity of his response. Mingyu's reaction seemed to surpass any previous experiences, his vulnerability and ecstasy on display in a way you hadn't witnessed before.

"Sorry, I came without your permission…"

"Enough with the sorry's, Mingyu," you said with a soft smile. "Let's just take a bath."

As the warm water cascaded around you, cleansing away the external worries, you both found solace in the simplicity of the moment. Emerging from the bath, you lay on the bed alone, the silence speaking volumes. Mingyu, holding his shirt, stood in contemplation. His gaze met yours, and he released a breath he seemed to have been holding.

The room felt charged with unspoken emotions when Mingyu finally gathered the courage to ask, "Can we sleep together tonight? Can I stay here with you?"

His eyes held a lot of shyness, and for a moment, you felt a genuine change in the air. You bit your lip, a subtle smile playing on your lips. In response, you patted the bed twice, a silent invitation for him to join you.

Mingyu threw his shirt away with a smile, a blend of shyness and excitement. He settled on the bed, maintaining a cautious distance, uncertain about what the night held. Your gaze met his, and you turned to face him. His eyes sparkled, and with a newfound boldness, he closed the gap and hugged you tightly.

"Don't be away from me again," he whispered, his voice tinged with vulnerability. And for the first time in those weeks, you let yourself savor the sweet taste of his pink soft lips, making him melt in response.

You smiled, your palms sliding gently along his back. The walls that once stood between you seemed to crumble as Mingyu embraced you, his actions speaking louder than any words. In that moment, it felt like a page turned, and a new chapter began.

Well, Seungkwan, you knew a lot. The five ways to have a man in the palm of your hand indeed. 

#seventeen headcanons #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt imagines #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #svt reactions #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu drabbles #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #mingyu x you #mingyu x oc #mingyu x y/n #seungcheol smut #svt #seventeen x oc #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n

[willowbelle]

Open Flame

❤︎ portgas d ace x fem reader ❤︎

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, dom!ace, sub!reader, ace is a smug tease, kitchen sex, fingering, piv sex, bent-over-the-counter sex, cream pie, use of "good girl" , "baby" & "sweetheart"

summary: reader is a strawhat, reader has a crush on ace (don't we all?) they're the only ones up late at night in the kitchen >:), sex ensues, heat/flame innuendos duh, oh and Ace wears those slutty man plaid boxers (>ᴗ•) !

word count: ~4,000

tagging: @bby-deerling @maddddstuff @eelnoise @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @help-i-lost-my-sock

Open Flame

Ace’s gaze was allconsuming. 

A spell-binding stare that, ironically, lit a flame within you that couldn’t be tamed.

Your captain’s brother was only supposed to have stayed with you all on The Sunny for a few days, but, before long, days melted into weeks, and Ace had effortlessly ingrained himself, finding a home not just within the confines of the ship, but also within the recesses of your mind.

Ever since his first day with your crew, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed at night, consumed by visions of Fire Fist Ace; his toned figure, his freckled skin, his dark, shaggy hair.

Each toss and turn was a desperate attempt to escape the relentless grip of your infatuation, but his image persisted, vivid and unyielding.

Oh, it was futile. The more you tried to push him from your thoughts, the more he consumed them. His presence lingered, something intoxicating, relentless, enveloping you in a haze of longing and allconsuming desire.

------

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to find solace in sleep, but your mind races on, conjuring fantasies of those stolen glances, those tan, freckled cheeks. Each scenario plays out in intricate detail, taunting you with the tantalizing possibility of something more.

You release a weighted sigh, your gaze still fixed on the unchanging ceiling. Sleep feels impossible now, so you give in to your insomnia, gently shedding the covers from your body and rising upright.

------

In the depths of the ship's night, you silently slip out of your bunk, navigating the narrow corridors with practiced ease. The Sunny creaks and groans softly around you, its familiar sounds a comforting backdrop to your nocturnal wanderings.

The floorboards creak faintly beneath your weight as you pad through the dimly lit hallway, guided only by the pale moonlight filtering through the fluttering curtains.

A gentle sea breeze whispers through the open window, carrying with it the scent of night blooms and sea salt. As you descend the stairs, your footsteps echo softly against the wooden steps, breaking the stillness of the night.

Entering the kitchen, you flick on the overhead light, casting a warm glow over the familiar surroundings. The room seems to welcome your presence, the comforting hum of the refrigerator and the soft ticking of the clock offering solace in the solitude of the night.

You move with quiet purpose, your movements fluid and unhurried as you prepare a cup of tea, the gentle clink of porcelain against porcelain punctuating the silence. The rhythmic motion of stirring soothes your restless mind, easing the knots of tension that had taken root within you. 

As you stir the spoon through the steaming liquid, Ace's presence solidifies in your thoughts, his grip on your mind unyielding. There's no escaping his hold, so you allow him to take you, drifting deeper into your imagination. You envision the sensation of drawing him near, tasting his lips, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. The thought lingers: would his abilities render his flesh hot to the touch?

Lost in your daydreaming, your senses are momentarily dulled. The rhythmic stirring of your tea slows as you continue to drift in the cocoon of your thoughts, imagining scenarios that seem both tantalizingly real and impossibly distant.

Ace’s lips on your neck, his strong hands around your waist, melting you. 

And then, like a sudden gust of something unexpected, the sound of footsteps shatters the tranquility of your fantasies.  Your heart skips a beat as you raise your head, finding yourself face to face with the object of your affection.

Ace stands in the doorway, his presence filling the room with an intensity that leaves you breathless. 

He has’t noticed me, yet, thank god. 

Unaware of your presence, he remains oblivious, his attention consumed by the remnants of sleep lingering in his eyes. With a lazy yawn and a gentle rub of his eyes, he remains lost in the haze between wakefulness and sleep.

He stands before you, casually shirtless, as he usually is, yet there's something distinctly different about this moment. His chest is bare and his torso is exposed, the warm light of the kitchen accentuating the contours of his chest and the play of shadows across his skin.

Beneath the soft glow, his feet are bare, too, adding to the casual allure of his presence. The only garment adorning him is a pair of loose-fitting red plaid boxers, hanging effortlessly from his sculpted hips

The warm glow of the kitchen lights cascades softly over Ace's toned body, each gentle beam of light dances delicately across his features, accentuating the subtle contours of his handsome, freckled face. As he steps further into the room, the light caresses his golden skin, highlighting the delicate sprinkling of freckles that adorn his cheeks and nose, a testament to the countless hours spent basking in the sun's embrace.

And suddenly, to your dismay, his eyes, dark and enigmatic, lock onto yours, and for a fleeting instant, time seems to stand still.

A weary grin creeps onto his face as he senses comfort in your company.

"Trouble sleeping, too?" the timbre of his voice is soft and raspy, colored by the remnants of sleep. As he speaks, he ambles towards the fridge, effortlessly navigating the kitchen space. With a fluid motion, he swings the refrigerator door open, stealing a quick glance in your direction as he begins to sift through its contents, awaiting your response.

“Uh, yeah,” you chuckle softly, stumbling over your words. Surely, you were dreaming. You rub your eyes a few times to dispel the remnants of sleep, however, when you open them again, Ace is still there. 

"The waves seem rougher tonight, huh?" Ace mumbles between mouthfuls of food, his attention divided between his meal and the remaining contents of the fridge.

“They do, yeah,” you offer a soft smile, “But I can rarely get to sleep,” you admit, taking a sip from your mug of tea. 

"Oh, really?" Ace's inquiry pulls your attention away from your tea, his sudden gaze meeting yours as he lifts his head from the fridge for the first time. “Why’s that?”

A rush of heat floods your cheeks at the direct eye contact, prompting you to avert your gaze momentarily.

"Just... can't stop thinking," you admit softly, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words.

"Hmm," Ace acknowledges with a thoughtful hum before swallowing. "Same here," he adds, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability.

Your curiosity piqued, you lean in slightly, intrigued by his response. "What's been on your mind, Ace?" you ask, voice laced with genuine interest.

Ace hesitates for a moment, glancing around the kitchen before shrugging nonchalantly,

 "You.”

Ace's unexpected confession courses through your veins and renders you speechless. Your heart flutters erratically in your chest, and you struggle to maintain composure under the weight of his words that hang heavily between the two of you. 

It was disarmingly casual, refreshingly honest. Not a rehearsed performance, starkly contrasting the countless nights you spent rehearsing confessions in front of the mirror. You can;t help but envy his effortless sincerity.

His gaze remains fixed on yours, unwavering and intense as he straightens up, closing the fridge.

He slowly makes his way towards you, making your breath hitch in your throat. You swallow dryly as he draws near, and with a gentle yet purposeful motion, he reaches out and takes the mug of tea from your hand, the brief touch sending a shiver down your spine. Setting the drink down on the counter with a soft clink, he closes the space between you, the air crackling with unspoken tension.

You feel his breath on your ear as his presence looms closer, 

“What have you been thinking about, y/n?” he questions, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

You suck in your bottom lip gently between your teeth, a nervous habit betraying the whirlwind of emotions churning within you. Your gaze locks with his, his eyes like pools inviting you take a swim.

And so, you dive in. 

Time seems to stand still as you hover on the brink of uncertainty, the weight of your unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. And then, with a soft exhale, you opt for a physical reply, immediately closing the gap, crashing your lips onto Ace’s. 

His hand instinctively finds its home on your soft cheek as your lips meld together, making you moan softly into his mouth.

His lips turn up into a smile against yours, pleased with the sound that escaped your throat. 

It's a moment suspended in time, a delicate dance of longing and hesitation as you explore the uncharted territory of your newfound embrace. Your lips move together in perfect harmony, each brush of skin igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

Your surroundings seem to fall away as you make out, gently caressing Ace’s sharp jawline as his tongue presses against your lips, silently asking for permission to enter. 

You promptly oblige, parting your lips to allow Ace’s hot tongue to explore your mouth. 

He accepts, groaning softly into your open mouth as his tongue swirls around yours slowly. 

He presses forwards softly, palms resting on the countertop on either side of your hips, caging you in as he leans harder into the kiss. 

You hands travel upwards, tangling themselves in his mess of dark hair as you gently bite his bottom lip, playfully tugging on the tender flesh between your teeth.

“Ace,” you whine breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” the tall man rasps into your mouth, eyes still closed in a blissful surrender, “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” 

Your heart swells at his affectionate words and you playfully parrot his statement from before,

“You.”

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice soft yet brimming with confidence. "That's what I wanted to hear."

You feel your core tighten at his boldness, making heat pool in your crotch. 

As if he could read your body like a book, he slowly begins to snake his toned arm downwards, his hand finding its home on your aching sex. 

Your head rolls back and you let out a pleased sigh at the sensation. 

“Sensitive, are we?” Ace purrs arrogantly, pleased at his own ability. 

“Mm-mhmm,” you whine in admission because he’s right, he tugs those sounds from your body naturally, better than anyone ever has.

His able fingers cautiously meet the waistband of your pajama shorts and he shoots you a questioning glance, silently asking for your permission. 

“Please, Ace,” you whine. 

He smirks at you before dipping his hand beneath your shorts, his middle and ring finger aiming to tease your weeping opening. 

“Needy girl,” he lets out a gravelly groan, “So wet for me already.” 

A dark blush rushes to your cheeks at the lewdness of his words, but he cups your face and tilts your head down, making you watch the meticulous movements of his fingers.

His other hand swiftly snakes around to give your ass a gentle squeeze before dipping his thumb beneath your waistband to tug your shorts down. 

Simultaneously, he swipes his middle finger along your aching slit, the tip of his finger meeting your hole with a precautionary nudge. 

“Mm,” you whine out, excitedly awaiting the intrusion. 

“Yeah?” Ace tests you, stalling his movements, “Come on, baby, show me how badly you want it.” 

Abandoning all dignity, you let your yearnings take the reigns, grinding your hips back and forth against him, soaking his digit in your essence. 

“Good,” Ace mumbles, rewarding your persistence with a press of his finger against your opening. Your cunt greedily accepts his digit, sucking him in. “So tight, y/n, can’t wait to stretch you out,” the man before you smirks and you want to hide your embarrassed face, but you’re too consumed by desire, unable to fall back on your shy tendencies. 

He slowly begins pumping his finger in and out of you, earning delicious moans to escape from your slack jaw and into his ear. 

You bury your face in his neck, his skin radiating heat and carrying the unmistakable scent of fire. It's primal and potent, a blend of burning wood, scorched earth, and smoldering embers. As you inhale deeply, you detect hints of charred debris and smoke clinging to him, a haunting reminder of his fire's destructive power. Yet, there's also an allure to the scent, a sense of safety, evoking memories of his warm flames flickering in the darkness. It's a scent that commands your attention, stirring your senses with its primal energy and leaving an indelible mark, much like the landscape long after the flames have been extinguished.

You’re a mess beneath his touch, biting onto the muscular flesh of his freckled shoulders, whimpering into his ear. He adds another finger, making you cry out at the intrusion earning a palm to your mouth. He works the two digits in and out of you with deliberate precision, hitting your sweet-spot perfectly with each pass. 

You start to see stars as Ace’s thumb meets your aching clit, treating the swollen nub with tight circles. 

The ever-tightening coil growing within your stomach reaches its peak, threatening to snap as Ace continues his dirty work. 

But, before your pleasure can boil over, Ace pulls away, removing his soaking fingers from your needy cunt. 

You’re trembling, weakly holding onto Ace’s muscular forearm to steady yourself as you whine,

“Aceee, w-why’d you stoppp?” your voice is desperate, nearly embarrassingly so, but you’ve long abandoned all your dignity, you just want him to keep pleasing you. 

“Turn around,” the man before you shoots you a wolfish grin, “I promise I’ll make it worth it.” 

The mere idea of passing up whatever Ace is offering fills you with trepidation, so without hesitation, you comply, swiftly turning yourself around and placing your hands on the countertop.

You glance back at the tall man behind you, finding him sporting a smug smirk, dark eyes lidded as he gazes down at you, clearly amused by your immediate obedience. 

Ace’s strong, hot hands meet your hips, griping the flesh tightly as he brings his clothed crotch to lie flush with your bare ass. 

His skin is seeping heat through his boxers, and the sensation causes you to mewl out, goosebumps budding all over your impatient skin. 

He wastes no time as he’s no better, impatient, too, immediately beginning to grind his aching cock against the flesh of your ass. A hearty moan brews in his chest and escapes from his throat, causing a dark blush to dance across your cheeks. You stare down at your fingers gripping the countertop, knuckles growing white against the granite as Ace has his way with you. 

“Fuck,” he leans forward, his bare chest lying flush with your back as he groans in your ear, “You ready for me, baby?” he nips at your ear. 

You roll your hips in response, pressing your ass harder against his erection to accentuate your whiny plea, “Please, Ace.” 

You feel his lips tug into a smirk against your ear, “Say no more, y/n.” 

In an instant, Ace’s plaid boxers meet the kitchen floor, earning a small gasp from you as you watch the fabric pool at his feet. 

Placing one warm palm on the small of your back he uses the other to grip his long, pulsing cock, lining himself up with your weeping entrance. 

Ace grits his teeth as he begins to push his tip inside you, sucking in a shaky breath through his grin as he feels your tight hole opening up for him. 

“Mmm,” you whine out, “Aceee-” 

Your fingertips make a pathetic attempt to dig into the impenetrable granite as Ace pushes himself inside you. 

The stretch is evident, nearly painful, but you endure it, for the reward of having Ace fuck you is beyond worth it. 

His fingertips meet the dip of your waistline with a comforting squeeze as he continues to press forwards, his voice filled with genuine concern, "You're alright, baby?" he asks tenderly.

“Mm-mhm,” you whine, pressing your hips back eagerly, “More, please-” 

“So desperate for me,” Ace groans through gritted teeth, but he rewards your desperation, gripping your waist tightly as he thrusts himself inside you fully, bottoming out,.

“Fuck, Ace!” you cry out, loudly at the feeling of Ace’s lengthy cock suddenly filling your insides. You feel stuffed, letting your mouth hang slack and your eyes screw shut as stars erupt beneath your lids. 

At the sudden sound of your loud moans, Ace’s hand immediately shoots forwards, palm covering your mouth tightly and pressing in firmly to punctuate his point.

Ace’s palm against your mouth makes you realize how loud you just were, and although a surge of longing and desire courses through your veins, beneath the surface, a thread of caution lingers. You are acutely aware of your surroundings, the faint sounds of the ship humming around you, the distant creak of floorboards echoing in the corridor beyond. The two of you are an open flame, and the threat of one of your crewmates walking in tickles at your mind, but is far overpowered by the desire for Ace to rail you. 

“Stay quiet for me, yeah, baby?” Ace groans, his voice a gravelly, promising whisper, “and I'll give ‘ya everything you want.” 

“M-Mhmm,” you nod your head frantically, willing to promise anything if it means he’ll keep going. 

Ace gives you a firm nod, pleased at your response, letting his hand fall from your mouth and find its way back on the other side of your waist. 

His cock throbs inside your tight cunt, making you let out a pleased but quiet moan. The feeling of your hot walls fluttering around his length makes Ace relinquish his control, steadying himself before pulling his hips back and thrusting back into you. 

Your moans threaten to escape loudly, and as much as you want to let it out, you keep them at bay, obeying Ace’s silent order. You tremble beneath him, only allowing a soft, weak moan to erupt from your heaving chest. 

Soon enough, he develops a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you rhythmically, stuffing you full, his blunt tip kissing your g-spot with each pass, making your body melt beneath him. 

He’s strategic, reaching around to rub tight circles into your clit as he fucks you from behind, keeping you bent over the kitcher counter. 

The man behind you is hot to the touch; his skin, his cock, all of him is hot, a stark contrast to the cold granite that rubs against your tits and open palms as he fucks you. 

Ace is huffing behind you, eyes screwed shut as he picks up the pace, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together dismissing the nighttime silence that hung in the kitchen earlier. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans, letting his head fall back. His pace increases, becoming more brutal and a bit sloppy as he chases his orgasm. 

One of his hands makes its way upwards to tangle itself in your hair, lacing his fingers in the strands and tugging on them, pulling your head back to make you look at him.

He looks beautiful like this, thrusting into you from behind, freckled face and shoulders tinted red, dark, shaggy hair clinging to his forehead with his sweat, toned chest heaving up and down. 

“Y/n,” he rasps breathlessly, eyes lidded as he stares down at you lustfully, “I-I’m so close-”

The circles he’s rubbing into your clit become tighter, more frantic, his thrusts gaining more power but becoming unsynchronized as he desperately chases his rapidly-approaching orgasm. 

You’re no better, weakly clawing at the countertop as your legs tremble, threatening to give out from under you as Ace continues to pound his length into you. He’s bullying your cervix, overstimulating your sore clit, wildly pulling you towards your own peak. 

“Sh-Shit, A-Ace-!”

In an instant, it hits you; white-hot pleasure, coursing through your veins, making your limbs grow tingly and numb, your knees buckling as they give out beneath you. You’re a trembling mess, gushing onto Ace’s cock as your orgasm reaches its crown, crashing into you with unwavering intensity. 

Ace is right behind you, granting your spent body with a few more weak thrusts before he pushes himself in fully one last time, tip meeting your cervix with a harsh bump before he erupts inside you. 

----

The soft tendrils of morning light filter through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the your bedroom as you stir from your slumber. Blinking sleepily, you rub your eyes, a lingering sense of disorientation clouding your thoughts.

I’m in bed. Did Ace bring me here?

The events of the previous night flood your mind, and you can't help but wonder if it was all just a dream. The memory of your clandestine encounter in the kitchen feels like a distant echo, shrouded in uncertainty and disbelief.

With a sigh, you sit up, the sheets pooling around your waist as you wrestle with the conflicting memories swirling within you. Part of you yearns to believe that it was real, that the tender moments shared between you and Ace were more than just figments of your imagination.

Doubt gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, whispering tales of wishful thinking and misplaced desire. 

But the fresh love bites on your neck and soreness of your cunt must prove otherwise, right?

Lost in your thoughts, you slip out of bed and pad across the room, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you in the present. With hesitant steps, you make your way to the kitchen, heart pounding in anticipation.

As you enter the familiar space, you let out a deep breath, scanning the room for any sign of Fire Fist Ace. But, to your dismay, the kitchen stands empty, the only remnants of your encounter being the lingering scent of tea and a damp kitchen towel. 

And then, his voice cuts through the silence like a hot knife on ice, 

“How’d you sleep, beautiful?”

You turn, and there, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, is Ace, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that steals your breath away. The sight of him, so real and tangible, dispels the lingering doubts that had clouded your mind.

He grins widely, warmly, a sight that floods your veins with a familiar sensation of heat and joy. 

“Hope I didn’t rough you up too much, pretty girl.” 

With the reassurance of his words, elation and relief climb up your spine and cling to your skin. 

You make your way towards Ace, planting a passionate kiss on his lips before gazing up into his eyes,

“Thanks for tucking me in, Ace,” you blush softly. 

The freckled man chuckles, 

“Anytime.” 

#one piece x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace x y/n #ace x y/n #one piece smut #one piece scenario #x reader #mdni #one piece fanfiction #one piece #one piece headcanons #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #one piece ace #one piece ace fanfiction #fire fist ace smut #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x y/n

[nanamis-baker]

Bake Date

Summary: You and Nanami attempt to bake your favourite bread.

Pairing: Sorcerer! Nanami x f! reader

Content: Fluff, baking and kneading, suggestive, implied smut at the end | Basically me combining my love for baking and for Nanami :P

WC: 3.3k

A cool autumn breeze swirled around you, sending loose strands of hair whipping against your face. The rhythmic tap of Nanami's shoes was the only sound that cut through the crisp night air. You clutched the paper bag from "Golden Crust" - the golden logo a warm beacon in the twilight. Inside, a small victory awaited.

This wasn't any ordinary bread. It was a celebratory indulgence for You and Nanami – the elusive Herb Focaccia from Golden Crust. The kind that boasted of secret recipes passed down for generations, its aroma a legend in itself. You could already picture the golden-brown crust, flecked with a hint of sea salt. Beneath it, the promise of fragrant herbs - rosemary, thyme, a touch of oregano - swirled in your imagination. Every bite was whispered of a symphony of flavours, dancing on your tongue.

Golden Crust's Herb Focaccia was a rare treat. They baked it in small batches, and it vanished from the shelves quicker than a blink. But tonight, after a hard-fought victory, you and Nanami were the lucky ones, clutching a piece of that culinary magic. It was a small celebration in itself.

A cool autumn breeze sent a shiver down your spine. Sensing your discomfort, Nanami shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. "Thanks," you mumbled, glancing up at him “But won’t you get cold?”. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as he shook his head. "We're almost home anyways, sweetheart," he replied, his voice a steady murmur as the familiar silhouette of your apartment building rose in the distance.

Nanami unlocked the apartment door, stepping aside to let you in first. Inside, the warmth of your apartment welcomed you like a hug. Nanami helped you remove his coat, his touch sending a spark through you. You couldn't help but let out a small sigh of contentment.

Without wasting a moment, you went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge, a triumphant grin spreading across your face as you emerged with a selection of cheeses – creamy ricotta, a sharp pecorino romano, and a wedge of fragrant goat cheese.

You sliced into the Herb Focaccia, the golden crust giving way to reveal a fluffy, herb-infused interior. Working quickly, you arranged the slices on a plate, the bread filling the room with its savoury aroma.

Just then, Nanami wandered into the kitchen, his suspender gone and his sleeves rolled up. "Wow," he breathed, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him, as he looked at the arrangement of cheese and sliced bread. "That looks amazing,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your neck.

Finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You took a bite of your hard-earned bread, letting the flavours explode on your tongue. A soft moan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. The combination of textures – the crisp crust yielding to the soft, pillowy interior, punctuated by the sharp tang of cheese and the fragrant whisper of herbs – was pure magic.

"This," you breathed, a dreamy smile on your face, "is absolutely delicious."

Nanami, who was watching you with a hint of amusement in his eyes, reached for a slice. He took a bite, his expression mirroring your own for a brief moment before settling into a satisfied nod and a soft smile.

"It is," he agreed, taking another thoughtful bite. "A shame they always sell out so fast. Wish we had some alternative..."

Wheels turned in your head as you said as a mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. "What if we tried making this at home, huh? We have the next two days off without any missions – the perfect time to try something new!”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. The corners of his lips twitched into a barely-there smile. "Baking, huh?" he drawled, his voice laced with a playful challenge. "We're both about as experienced as Gojo is with manners."

You swatted him playfully on the arm. "Hey!" you protested, a grin tugging at your lips. "That's exactly why it'll be fun!"

He hesitated for a moment, the playful glint in your eyes mirroring his own amusement. A genuine smile finally bloomed on his face. "Alright," he conceded, stepping closer and placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Considering it's our break, we might as well give Golden Crust a run for their money."

Sun streamed through the living room window, casting a warm glow on your furrowed brow as you scrolled through endless online recipes on your iPad. Despite what you said yesterday about enjoying a break, you did have a mission today, although a different mission – to find the perfect Herb Focaccia recipe.

"Aha!" you exclaimed, a grin replacing your frown. "This one seems promising," you announced, turning to Nanami who stood beside you, already waiting with a pen and a grocery list. He was a picture of casual comfort- clad in jeans and a light sweater.

Nanami glanced over your shoulder at the recipe. "Looks doable," he agreed, jotting down ingredients. "Straightforward, and with good reviews – that's a good sign."

With the shopping list complete, you and Nanami left for the grocery store. Navigating the aisles together, you tossed bags of flour, yeast, and a bunch of fragrant herbs – rosemary, thyme, and oregano – into your cart.

Nanami surprised you with his surprising knowledge of flour. As you reached the flour section, he paused, expertly selecting a bag. "Hold on," he said, "for focaccia, bread flour is actually better than all-purpose. It has more gluten, which gives it that nice, chewy texture."

You smiled, impressed by this unexpected expertise. "So, we have a baking wiz here, huh?" you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

Back in the apartment, you unloaded the groceries, setting the ingredients out on the counter. Nanami followed suit, carefully placing the bag of flour beside the yeast and herbs. The flour bag held a secret – a small hole lurking at the bottom, waiting to cause trouble.

As Nanami plunked the bag down with a satisfied thud, a white explosion erupted. A cloud of flour billowed out, engulfing you both in a powdery embrace. You coughed, momentarily blinded by the sudden snowstorm.

For a beat, the kitchen was covered in flour-dusted surprise. Then, as the dust settled, a giggle escaped your lips. It quickly escalated into full-blown laughter, and Nanami joined you soon, the sound of his laughter, deep and rich, filled the space.

As you were wiping away the tears of mirth from your eyes, Nanami said, “Well, that’s quite a start,” a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Nanami brushed the flour off his T-shirt; he had ditched his sweater before you two started baking. He looked so relaxed, despite the dusty start you had. His eyes were playful, crinkling in the corners that made your heart skip a beat. You reached up, standing on your tippy toes to ruffle his hair, ruining his perfectly combed hair. Nanami looked at you, his eyebrow raised, “What? You had flour there!” you chuckled.

Nanami shook his head as he picked up the iPad and pulled up the recipe. "Shall we continue, now that the flour is out of my hair?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. You nodded, a grin still plastered on your face, and pulled out a set of bowls, ready to tackle the recipe together.

The kitchen was filled with Nanami’s voice as he read out the instructions. You, meanwhile, were busy measuring out the yeast. As you poured it into a bowl of warm water and sugar, a peculiar aroma tickled your nose. Nanami’s nose scrunched at the smell.

"That...smells interesting," he remarked, a hint of laughter dancing in his eyes. "Is that what activated yeast is supposed to smell like?" You shot him a playful wink "Maybe, maybe not, sweetheart- We will find out soon enough," you said, as you stirred the mixture, covered it, set it aside and put a timer, waiting for the yeast to activate.

Nanami chuckled. He turned his attention to the dry ingredients, carefully measuring and sifting them into a separate bowl. You watched him work, captivated by his meticulous movements. "You're surprisingly good at this," you observed after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence.

Nanami glanced up, a hint of red creeping up his neck. "I may or may not have watched a few baking videos last night," he admitted sheepishly. A wide smile bloomed on your face. "Aww, Kento, that's so sweet! No wonder you're a pro already!"

Nanami gave a small shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just trying to make sure we don't end up with a complete disaster," he mumbled, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Besides, a little preparation never hurt anyone, right?”

A ding sounded in the kitchen, interrupting the two of you. It was the timer, indicating 15 minutes had been up. You reached for the bowl containing the yeast, lifting the cover with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

The yeasty mixture had indeed transformed – a frothy golden cap bubbled on top, emitting an aroma stronger than before. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but...unique. "Well, that certainly looks...active," you remarked, offering Nanami a playful smile. He leaned in for a closer look, a hint of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Active enough," he agreed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Following the recipe, you poured the olive oil into the yeast mixture, stirring gently to combine. Then you tipped the wet ingredients into the dry ones. With ease, Nanami took the lead. Using a sturdy wooden spoon, he began folding and mixing the wet and dry ingredients until a shaggy dough emerged. It was a glorious mess – a tangled web of flour, water, and flecks of golden yeast.

Stepping aside, Nanami gestured towards the countertop, while he continued mixing. You nodded in understanding and dusted the surface liberally with flour, creating a snowy landscape for the dough to come. He carefully tipped the shaggy mass onto the floured surface.

Nanami’s fingers dipped into the gooey mess, strong hands worked on the dough. You watched, captivated, as the dough began to transform under his touch. Slowly, the shaggy mess yielded, becoming smoother and more elastic with each press.

A blush crept up your cheeks – a reaction you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the focus completely breaking his usual stoic demeanour. Or perhaps it was the way the flour dusted his dark hair, making him look both domestic and surprisingly…sexy.

And his arms- God his arms. His forearms spoke of strength and control. The muscles bunched and flexed with each deliberate movement. A network of veins ran up his arm, a subtle map that you have traced so many times with your lips, hidden beneath the sun-kissed skin. His hands, surprisingly gentle moments ago while mixing, transformed into instruments of purpose.

Long fingers dug into the dough, drawing it in, pushing it away, folding and stretching it. Suddenly, Nanami's voice cut through your thoughts, laced with amusement. "Seems like someone's getting a little jealous of the dough," he teased, his gaze meeting yours. He had swapped his usual glasses for a wired frame style that somehow made him look even more devastatingly handsome.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you stammered out a defence. "I was just...concerned you might be a little too rough on the dough," you mumbled, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.

"Don't worry, darling," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I know exactly when to be rough. Not that you need any reminding."

You met his gaze- your cheeks were definitely red now. A slow smile spread across Nanami's face as he witnessed the effect of his words. "Besides," he added, leaning in a little, his voice playful again, "I think our dough is ready to move into the oven.”

Right. The dough. Baking with Nanami. You mentally shook yourself back to reality. Clearing your throat, you reached for the iPad, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself.

"Actually," you started, consulting the recipe, "I think we need to let it rise for a bit." You grabbed a bowl and began coating the inside with olive oil. Nanami, a hint of a smirk still lingering on his lips, picked up the dough and transferred it gently to the prepared bowl before covering it with a clean kitchen towel as you set the timer.

An hour melted away and you and Nanami approached the bowl, a shared look of anticipation passing between you as you lifted the towel.

A gasp escaped your lips – the dough had risen magnificently, its volume nearly doubled. It puffed proudly, a smooth, elastic surface begging to be pocked.

You turned to Nanami, who had something similar to... pride, in his eyes. It was something unexpected, and warmth bloomed in your chest.

You watched Nanami lean on the counter to grab the iPad, his T-shirt riding up ever so slightly, his back visible, causing you to draw a breath. He straightened up, seemingly unaware of your reaction, and read out the instructions for the next step. Following his lead, you grabbed the baking tray, coating it with olive oil, creating a glistening canvas for the dough.

Lifting the risen dough, a surge of accomplishment welled up within you. It felt light and airy- the result of your combined efforts. Together, you and Nanami gently placed it onto the oiled tray, your fingers brushing briefly with his as you spread the dough evenly.

A comfortable silence settled once more. Following the recipe, you used your fingertips to create gentle indentations in the dough – dimples to welcome the olive oil, as mentioned in the recipe. Nanami took over next, as he drizzled a light stream of oil over the surface. Then, he sprinkled some sea salt and a generous amount of herbs on top of the dough, adding a visual and aromatic flourish.

Finally, you carefully covered the transformed dough with a damp cloth. "There," you announced with quiet pride. A satisfied smile tugged at Nanami's lips as he set the oven to preheat. The air crackled with unspoken anticipation as you both turned towards the next step – letting the dough rise again before baking it.

You and Nanami sat in comfortable silence, waiting for the oven to preheat and the dough to rise.

A soft ding interrupted the silence. The oven timer blinked at you, announcing the 25 minutes had flown by. The dough was ready for its transformation.

Nanami grabbed the oven mitts and put them on. You carefully peeled back the damp cloth, revealing the risen dough in all its glory. You passed on the tray to Nanami's gloved hands and he slid the tray into the warmth of the oven, the door shutting with a soft thud.

Silence fell once more, but this time filled with anticipation. The oven hummed as Nanami wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head. "Let's see how this turns out," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

The aroma of toasted herbs hung heavy in the air, a warm, inviting fragrance that eclipsed even the lingering scent of flour. The focaccia had emerged from the oven a golden beauty, its surface dappled with sea salt and herbs.

You set it aside to cool, a necessary but agonising wait. Nanami disappeared into the fridge, emerging with a selection of cheese you'd used yesterday- creamy ricotta, a sharp pecorino romano, and goat cheese. You, in turn, busied yourself with a simple balsamic vinegar and olive oil dip, the sharp tang a perfect contrast to the richness promised by the cheese.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. With a practised hand, you sliced into the focaccia, revealing the fluffy interior generously infused with herbs. You bit your lip, a nervous flutter in your stomach. So far, so good. Everything had gone according to plan.

Arranging the slices on a plate, you added the cheese and the dip, creating a vibrant tapestry of colours and texture. You and Nanami exchanged a look, both reaching for a piece of bread at the same time.

The first bite was a revelation. The focaccia was warm and yielding, the texture a delightful contrast to the crisp golden crust. The herbs, released by the heat, danced on your tongue, a symphony of flavour that mingled beautifully with the salty tang of the cheese and the sharp sweetness of the dip.

Nanami broke the silence, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's delicious," he said, his voice filled with genuine surprise and a hint of awe.

You returned the smile, relief and joy washing over you. "It really is," you agreed, savouring each bite.

The twist here? It tasted nothing like Golden Crust's legendary focaccia bread. It was a completely different beast, with its own unique flavour profile. But that didn't make it any less delicious. In fact, it was a delightful surprise, as you both weren’t expecting this turn of events.

Nanami took another bite of the bread, this time with cheese, “I don’t know which bread I like more, the golden crust one or this one,” he admitted, his brows knit together as if he were choosing between the two options.

A surprised laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Really?" you asked, a playful glint in your eyes. "Golden Crust has some serious competition then, huh?"

Nanami chuckled, taking another bite and savouring the contrasting textures. "Honestly," he began, "they're both fantastic, just different. Golden Crust is all about that classic, reliable flavour, but this..." he gestured to the plate, "this has a certain... ineffable quality, a unique charm that's hard to put into words. It's like a combination of flavours and textures, each bite a delightful surprise. It's fresh, unexpected, and bursting with flavour."

The rest of the evening unfolded in a comfortable rhythm. You and Nanami devoured the focaccia, exchanging bites of cheese and dipping the bread into the tangy balsamic vinegar mixture.

As the golden light of dawn began to peek through the kitchen window, a comfortable silence settled between you. Nanami, with a tired yet contented smile, stacked the empty plates while you cleared the countertop. After cleaning the kitchen, you turned the lights off and made your way to the living room.

Exhaustion finally caught up to you both- it was surprisingly tiring to make bread. You found yourselves on the living room couch, nestled against Nanami's side. His arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your skin.

"We should try that again sometime," you murmured, reaching out to brush a stray streak of flour from his cheek.

Nanami hummed in agreement. "Yeah, it was a great first attempt."

The smell of herbs in the air was replaced by something else. Leaning closer, you teased, "Maybe it's because of your kneading skills. You have good hands after all."

A flicker of something more than amusement danced in Nanami's eyes. He scooped you up in his arms, surprising you with his sudden movement.

"We are definitely covered in flour," he said, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Desperate need of a shower, even..." He paused, the air thick with unspoken desire. "And if we're continuing this..." his voice dropped even lower, "...maybe I should practice those hands more."

Laughter bubbled up from your chest as he carried you away towards the bathroom, the promise of something sweeter hanging in the air.

a/n: There it is- my first fanfic! (and of course, it's a Nanami fanfic). Would LOVE to know what you guys thought of this!

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #tasha's works ✍️

[soreddieforit]

@jegulus-microfic | april 26: aimless | 1,276 words | trans! regulus

james does regulus' tape binding aftercare <3

James lingers in the doorway, quietly observing Regulus in their softly lit bathroom.

He's perched on the ledge of the bathtub, seemingly lost in thought, his head bowed and fingers idle and aimless where they trace the rim of it. He's shirtless, clad in only boxers and socks. His bare thighs press against the cool porcelain, causing goosebumps to rise there. Soft, late evening light leaks from the window, casting gentle shadows against his frame. 

Outside, the rhythmic passing of cars punctuates the stillness, their headlights casting golden beams that dance across the wet asphalt. The nearby stoplight's red glow mingles with them, creating a surreal mix of colors on the shimmering pavement.

There's a soft rustle of movement as James enters the room behind Regulus, moving to the sink. He sifts through the contents of their vanity, hands passing over their shared face wash and the cup holding their toothbrushes to retrieve the items needed for Regulus' tape aftercare. Deft hands gather oil, washcloths, cotton swabs, and salve before placing them on the bathtub ledge. He approaches Regulus with a tenderness reserved only for moments like these, for him. 

"Ready, love?" James' voice breaks the silence with a mellow murmur. He settles his weight behind him. 

Regulus turns his head, giving a small nod against his own shoulder. "Yeah," he says, voice crackling from disuse. 

James leans in to press a kiss between Regulus' shoulder blades. He lingers there for a moment. This close, he can see the faint dusting of freckles that mark his back. They're spattered across the skin like spray from a wave on sand. Speckles in shades of russet, sepia, and chocolate dance across his pale skin, shifting as Regulus shivers lightly. As James' lips leave his back, the muscles beneath those pretty dots tremble.

James reaches for the oil, uncaps it, and warms it between his hands. He presses both his palms to Regulus, carefully smoothing the oil over the edges of the tape. His touch follows the span of the tape from Regulus' back, under his arms, to the front of his chest. His movements are slow and practiced, designed as much to reassure as to treat. The oil glistens slightly on Regulus' skin, catching the dim light as it begins to soften the adhesive.

As they wait for the tape to loosen, a comfortable silence settles over them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city and their own quiet breathing. James doesn't stop his ministrations; his fingers continue to trace gentle paths along Regulus' shoulders, the back of his neck, following the delicate contours of his shoulder blades. These moments are so special to him; he wants Regulus to feel loved through his actions, to experience the same palpable surge of affection with each pass of his hands that James feels. There is so much trust that Reg offers him in these moments—it's intimate. James is the only person Regulus allows to see the most vulnerable parts of himself, and that knowledge alone makes James' heart swell with fondness and love. He has never loved someone as he does Regulus.

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus. 

Sometimes, James thinks Regulus was crafted specifically for him; as if the cosmos themselves conspired to mold him to perfectly complement the contours of James' own body, his own soul. Looking back, it's almost silly to him now—he thought he knew what love was like before him. His heart was already overflowing with it for Sirius, his mum, his dad, his friends. He's always had big emotions, brimming with affection and fierce protectiveness for the people around him. He's always cared deeply and felt profoundly, but nothing could have prepared him for the depth of feeling that Regulus brought into his life.

James knows nothing, nobody else could ever make him feel like this.

He settles his hands on the edges of the tape on Regulus' left side. "Gonna take it off now, okay?"

"Yeah, okay James. Go ahead"

James pulls at the tape gently, easing it from the skin. He's careful not to pull too hard or move too fast, patient as he works. He grabs Regulus' bicep, thumb pressing into the underside, fingers curling over. "Lift your arm up, Reg," he instructs softly.

Regulus raises his arm, holding it aloft as James' hand moves back down to steady the skin being separated from the tape. He can't resist pausing to press a kiss to the underside of his bicep before continuing to peel off the tape there. When he encounters a tough spot, where the tape still clings to his skin, James reaches for more oil. He warms it between his fingers once again before lightly holding the piece back, rubbing it into the seam between Regulus' skin and the tape until it loosens enough for him to continue. He carefully removes the first piece, then works at a second, a third, before repeating the process on Regulus' right side.

There's still a faint trace of leftover adhesive where the edges of the tape once were. So, James takes a cotton swab, dips it in oil, and meticulously traces the outlines left by the pieces. He moves slowly, with deliberate delicacy, mindful of the soreness of his skin.

Once he's satisfied, James fetches the washcloth. He soaks it in warm, soapy water and carefully cleans the area, wiping away excess oil and any lingering traces of the day. Then he reaches for the salve—the last physical part of their routine, though James knows the comfort it brings goes beyond just the skin. Two of his fingers dip into the container, scooping up the soothing balm. James is so careful with him, his fingers so gentle as they spread the salve, taking extra care with the tender skin under his arms and over his ribs. He traces the rungs of them, then the dip of his chest, making sure no skin is left uncared for.

James then grabs what's technically his own shirt—a worn, soft thing that Regulus has claimed as his own, his favorite pajama top—from the ledge of the sink. He helps Regulus slip it over his head, taking advantage of every second he allows him to be so close, to take care of him.

"Feeling okay?" James asks once Regulus is settled.

He trails his hand at the hem of his shirt, slipping it underneath to rest gently on his stomach, careful not to brush the newly cared-for skin or his chest. 

Regulus hums an affirmative, "mhmm." Eyes closing and head tipping back as he nods.

"I'm not just asking about your skin, love," James whispers. It's tough for Regulus sometimes, taking the tape off, sitting with his chest. It's a necessity though, for his well-being, despite the discomfort it brings. And James always does everything within his power to make it easier for him. He knows he can't fix everything, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to.

Regulus reaches back, his palm sliding from James' elbow to his hand beneath his shirt, their fingers intertwining at his stomach. Their faces are so close that Regulus' cheek drags against James' as he turns his head, planting a soft kiss on James' cheek. "I do, I feel okay. I promise," he murmurs, giving James a warm smile.

Leaning back into James' frame, Regulus lets his weight settle comfortably against him. "You make it easier," he breathes out, words floating into the space between them. Another kiss, "Thank you. I love you."

James holds him a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, heart swelling just a little bit more. "I love you too."

#i wonder if the transphobes in my inbox realize that all that they accomplish is motivating me to write more trans reg sooo #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #marauders #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders fanfic #james x regulus

[st4rfckerz]

my sleep schedule is so fucked so whenever i conjured this up at like 4 am the other night.

mdni 18+ (somnophilia, dubcon)

Your eyes snap open as your body simply rejects the idea of sleep. You savor the the warmth of Anakin's body pressed closely against yours before carefully disentangles yourself without disturbing him further. The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the silence as you gingerly get out of bed, trying not to create too much noise. Letting your eyes readjust to the faint illumination coming from outdoors, you drowsily head to the restroom.

The moonlight seeping through the windows casts an ethereal glow on the hallway, bathing everything in a cool blue hue. As you enter the bathroom, you flip on the light switch, casting away the shadows. With a tired sigh, you unbutton your pajamas and sit down on the toilet seat. After finishing up on the cold toilet and washing your hands, you return to your bedroom, finding anakin still fast asleep. His chest rises and falls rhythmically under the covers, a faint hint of a smile playing on his lips. Something about his peaceful slumber triggers a sudden rush of arousal within you, causing your heartbeat to quicken. You watch him for a few more seconds before approaching cautiously, not wanting to disturb his rest.

Slowly, you reach out to trace the contours of his chiseled jawline with your fingertip, feeling the slight stubble beneath. The sensation sends electric currents throughout your body, igniting desires that had laid dormant just moments ago. You can't resist running your fingers through his curls, watching them fan out beneath your touch. Each movement brings forth images of intimate moments you've shared, of him taking control and making you submit willingly. This thought alone sends another wave of excitement coursing through your veins.

Unable to resist anymore, you climb onto the bed, straddling him with care. You hesitate for a brief moment before gently shifting Anakin onto his back. You reach down and grip his large, muscular thighs tightly, savoring the contrast between her delicate frame and his imposing strength. With one swift motion, you slide downwards, positioning yourself above his groin.

You lower yourself onto anakin's clothed cock, feeling the outline of his boxers against your panty-clad folds. You grind yourself against him, the friction setting your nerves ablaze. The fabric of his pants offers just enough resistance to heighten your pleasure, each roll of your hips bringing you more satisfaction.

"Baby," Anakin's deep, groggy voice resonates in you ear, causing goosebumps to rise along your exposed neck and your hips to slow down slightly. You feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. "Mmm don't stop." Despite being caught red-handed, you can't bring yourself to admit anything; instead, you let out a needy whimper, arching your back into him. Anakin's strong hands glide over your hips, his thumbs stroking the curve of your pelvis in gentle circles. Your eyes lock, his gaze filled with lust and amusement.

"Couldn't sleep, hm?" he speaks, his voice just above a whisper. You just shake your head and flutter your eyes closed. "Here." Anakin reaches for the elastic band of your panties and with practiced ease, he pulls them aside, revealing your swollen lips glistening with slick. He can't resist running his finger through it, drawing a sharp intake of breath from your lips. Grinning wickedly, he discards the damp fabric before turning his attention to himself. He swiftly removes his own boxers, standing tall and proud before you. The sight of him fully erect sends waves of anticipation through your body, causing you to squirm impatiently. Anakin slowly guides you down onto him, slowly impaling you on his cock. You gasps sharply at the invasion, your nails digging into his shoulders as he sets a steady pace. Your moans fill the room, punctuated by the sounds of your bodies connecting.

Anakin groans in satisfaction, laying back against the headboard as he watches you ride him, your body moving in sync with his shallow thrusts. His hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements while keeping you firmly grounded. The headboard creaks rhythmically underneath you, adding to the sensory overload you both experience.

"That's it, baby," he praises your performance, his breath hot against your neck. "Take all of me." He leans forward, capturing one of your nipples between his teeth, gently tugging it until you whimper.

"Ani- I can't 'm getting tired." you whine as you feel your legs starting to burn from the nonstop movement.

"Shh I got you it's okay," Anakin coos softly. His hand comes up to brush away the frayed hairs over your forehead. "Could've just woke me up angel, you know I would've taken care of you." he says between clenched teeth. He reaches up, cupping your breast in his large palm, squeezing it gently before releasing it to trail his fingers down your stomach. His calloused fingers find your clit, he rubs it lightly, timing it with each of your thrusts. Your body jolts against his, throwing your head back, your release building rapidly. "That's it, sweet girl," he murmurs, watching you crumble under his skilled touches. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, you back bowing as you chant his name into the night.

"There you go baby, gonna sleep reallll good after this."

As your muscles contract around him, he follows suit, thrusting harder and faster, claiming his own climax. His hips surge forward, driving deeper into your cunt, his muscles flexing under his skin. His groan fills the room, his release pulsing within you.

Once the storm subsides, they collapse onto the bed, panting heavily.

"Tired now?" Anakin asks you with a small, exhausted smile. Breathing heavily, you finally slow down, your body still quivering with post-orgasmic bliss. Opening your eyes slowly, you gaze at him adoringly.

"Yes, very tired." You respond. Anakin's arms wrap around your body tightly. "Good," he mutters into your hair, still catching his breath. You giggle softly into his chest, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.

"Next time," he warns playfully, "just ask." But there's no real anger in his voice; only love and satisfaction.

#nai writes ୨୧ #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #st4rfckerz

[wheeboo]

"pretty." | yoon jeonghan

SYNOPSIS. in which jeonghan calls you pretty. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. one kiss on the cheek, terms of endearment, jeonghan just being down bad and whipped for you lmao WORD COUNT. 1k

notes: because who wouldn't wnt to write something from that clip of him kissing gyu on the cheek cuz he's pretty?? anyway. can u tell that my fav word is pretty...

Jeonghan finds you pretty.

Pretty like... the first rays of dawn painting the sky in streaks of colours. Not like a fiery and blazing sunrise, but a soft, hesitant awakening; the hush before the world truly stirs to life.

His gaze lingers on your quiet form right next to him, eyes tracing the path of sunlight across your cheek peeking in from the shutters of the window, the way it seems to kiss the curve of your jawline and dance in the strands of your hair. A sleepy smile forms at his own lips, head tilting slightly as he lets out the quietest of chuckles.

Pretty like... the way a flower blooms. Each petal peeks out from the bud, hesitant at first, then unfurling with a contented sigh. Like the way you smile, Jeonghan thinks, merely a shy bloom starting at the corners of your lips before blossoming into the radiant sunflower that he always believes that you are.

Your chest rises up and down rhythmically, lips twitching ever so slightly, and Jeonghan wonders what kind of dreams must be playing in your mind𑁋if he should at all try to intervene and chase away the frequent nightmares that sometimes visit, and the clouds that occasionally cast shadows on your peaceful expression.

Pretty like... a book whose cover is worn and flimsy, its pages softened by countless turns and accidental (and intentional) rips, yet the ink still vibrantly tells tales of laughter and tears, of mishaps and misfortunes, of you. But even with this, the spine of the book remains unbroken.

Jeonghan remembers you reading a book last night, an older story if he recalls. He remembers the way your brows furrowed in concentration, hands clutched on the worn paperback, and how your lips moved silently, mouthing words only your heart could hear. He remembers the way your eyes lit up when you turned a page and nudged at his side to get his attention even if he didn't know what the story was about, a flicker of joy to your face like a firefly illuminating the room and the night skies.

Suddenly, a vibration snaps Jeonghan awake at this point, focus darting towards the unwelcomed presence of his phone on the nightstand. The screen casts a harsh light against the gentle morning glow, and Jeonghan reluctantly detaches himself to reach over for it, noting incoming messages from his members about their scheduled practice for later today, the words blurring slightly as sleep clings stubbornly to his eyelids. He quickly types out a message before silencing his phone, and then he shoots a contemplative glance back to you, before slipping out of the sheets and tip-toeing out of the bedroom.

Pretty like... the first sip of morning coffee. Not a jolt of bitter heat, but a warm caress on the tongue, enough to awaken the senses slowly. Jeonghan moves silently throughout your shared space, not wanting to disturb your peace. The aroma of brewing coffee wafts through the air, intertwining with the lingering traces of dawn and the new day ahead.

Carefully pouring a cup for himself, Jeonghan adds a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, the scent swirling like a mini-tornado and playfully tickling his nose. He remembers how you once told him you associate cinnamon with warmth and comfort, and a soft smile graces his lips.

He glides through the rest of his morning routine with practiced ease, mindful not to disturb your slumber, the quietness only punctuated by the occasional soft melody hummed under his breath of one of his songs. As time continues to pass, nearing to when he has to leave, Jeonghan glances at the numbers displayed on his phone, and a tinge of bittersweetness settles in his stomach. A tiny frown creases across his brow as he sets down his empty coffee cup and smooths over the fabric of his shirt with a sigh.

Heading back into the bedroom, he finds you still slumbering on the bed, the streaks of morning light painting over your cheeks. Jeonghan trots over to the window and gently adjusts the shutters, letting in a wider ray of sunlight that dances across your nose.

A creak from the bed tells him you're stirring, and he turns just in time to see your eyes flutter open. Sunlight spills across your face, bathing over your features like honey, and his breath catches in his throat, as if he'd just swallowed a handful of butterflies. You look even more beautiful than the dawn, he thinks.

A sleepy yawn escapes you, stretching your arms above your head, your eyes still closed shut from the light.

"Hannie...?" You mumble out, and Jeonghan is swift to come racing to your side, sitting himself down at the edge of the bed right beside you.

"Morning, angel," he says softly, letting a finger push back a few loose strands of hair flying over your face. "I was about to tell you that I'm leaving."

Your eyes flutter open just slightly, just enough to catch the small curve to your boyfriend's lips, yet mind still cloudy with sleep to even process it. "Hmm... what time is it?"

"Still early. You can go back to sleep," Jeonghan tells you reassuringly. "I just wanted to see your face before I leave."

His words send a faint smile to play across your lips.

"Why do you always have to leave so early?" You ask, voice raspy with sleep.

Jeonghan lets his hand lace with yours on the sheets, the warmth spreading through your fingers and coursing through your body.

"Work calls, love," he says, voice soft but laced with a playful tone. "But you know I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to."

A low groan leaves your mouth as your adjust yourself further into the comfort of the bed while still not letting go of his hand, your eyes fluttering closed again. Jeonghan just chuckles at your sulky antics, and you feel the way his finger caresses lightly over your knuckle.

Pretty like... a diamond ring glinting in the soft morning light, a promise of forever shimmering between them. He knows with a certainty settled deep in his bones that one day he'll slide that very ring onto your finger. But for now, the promise waits beneath the surface, a secret shared only by the gentle stroke of his thumb against your skin and the way his gaze lingers a little longer than necessary on your face𑁋hair messy and clinging to the pillow, eyes closed shut once more, yet you've never looked more beautiful to him.

And so, Jeonghan leans down, lips meeting in a feathery kiss at the skin of your cheek just below your eye. He lingers there for a moment, savouring the warmth of your skin against his own, before lowering himself down just next to your ear.

"Pretty," he whispers softly, simply, and irrevocably in love.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziees @mirxzii @bookyeom

#kflixnet #k-labels #caratsland #caratlibrary #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fic #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt #seventeen #svt fic

[stars-for-circe]

Sex, Drugs, And Rock & Roll

Tags / cw: AFAB reader, guitarist!ellie, making out, smut, weed, mirror sex, hair pulling, mirror sex

It was no secret that the green room at the back of the club was used as more than a pitstop before and after performing, and if there was someone out there that was still unaware of that, the many noises Ellie was currently drawing out of you could definitely attest to it.

But in your defence, it would be hard to not be quiet with how she had you bent over the vanity that was shaking and thumping against the wall from her rhythmic thrusts. And thank god for the sound proofing in there, because all of your 'ah, ah, ah's being let out in tandem with every time she pounded her strap into you, and Ellie's breathy gasps whenever it put pressure on her clit would have been rather embarrassing to explain to her bandmates later on; but it's not like the two of you gave a shit about that right now.

But fuck later on, because right now, all you could focus on was how her cock was slamming into your sweet spot with the perfect amount of pressure, and how sexy your girlfriend looked through the reflection of the vanity mirror. Yea, Ellie was totally making you watch as she fucked you hard, a joint in her mouth, one hand holding a bruising grip on your waist, and the other holding a fistful of your hair to keep your head up to make sure you didn’t look away (as if you would though, with the sight she was giving you).

“Y’gonna fucking take it, won’t you baby? Take my fucking cock like a slut, yeah?” Ellie grunted, words muffled by the joint between her lips.

And maybe if you weren’t high, cockdrunk, and halfway to cumming again you could have answered her, but instead all you could do was cry and babble out her name while she fucked you. The sight of it all - you screaming her name as your red eyes rolled back, your ass all raw and red from being slammed against her hips, and the little ring of white forming at the base of her cock - it made Ellie laugh at how easy it was to ruin you.

“Oohhh yeah you are- shit baby- you’re gonna fucking. take it. all.”

Each word was punctuated with an especially hard thrust from Ellie, causing you to edge closer and closer to release as you begged and pleaded for more. She barked out an incredulous laugh at that, you were acting as if she had barely even touched you, when in reality she was balls deep in your dripping pussy.

“More? You want more you fucking slut?” Ellie slowed her thrusts,

“Fucking beg for it, go on. Then I’ll give you more”

It was like she was making fun of your request, with how she kept her slow pace until the sounds of your “pleasepleaseplease” filled the air. And it was then, and only then, that she gave you what you wanted.

Stopping her slower pace with one, hard thrust into you that left you dizzy, Ellie pulled out and lifted you up by the waist and onto the vanity - you now on your knees with your hands against the mirror to balance yourself. You looked at Ellie through the mirror in confusion, but all you were met with was her lazily smirking at you while inhaling from the joint. And as she exhaled, she hoisted her right leg up onto the vanity, grabbed your ass with both hands, and slammed right back into you.

…To say you screamed was an understatement. Actually, it was like a loud, wounded yelp, more animal than human. The new position Ellie had you in meant her strap could reach much deeper than before, with her cock now kissing your cervix with fervour each time she thrusted up into you. And god, that coupled with her staggered groans got you real fucking close.

And Ellie could definitely tell, what with how your moans started getting bigger pitched and more breathy, how your knees started to buckle a little, and how your eyes started to get that faraway look in them. It made her want to fuck you so much harder, but she knew that changing the pace now of all times would ruin your oncoming orgasm. So she resorted to taking her left hand off your ass, making sure to trail it up your back which sent shivers back down your spine.

Finally, she settled it around your throat, thumb and index finger squeezing hard enough that your head started to get all fuzzy and your vision cloudy, as she started kissing and sucking at the back of your shoulders with a tenderness that contrasted the harsh manner of how she was fucking you. Small black dots swam around in your vision from the lack of blood flow to your head, and the dizziness coupled with her other hand making it’s way around to rub small, tight circles on your puffy clit was what pushed you over the edge.

Holy shit did Ellie relish how you cried out her name - at this point your moans were just broken and incoherent, your voice all raspy and constantly breaking every time you tried to speak. She fucked you through your high fast and hard, slowing down only when your whines turned into whimpers. And at some point in the hazy midst of it all Ellie realised she was cumming, too, as her thrusts morphed into slow grinding into your pussy, the pressure of the strap angled perfectly on her clit. Joint still in her mouth, she tried not the grit her teeth at the mind numbing pleasure - reminding herself to thank whoever said that weed made fucking so much better.

It took a few moments for the both of you to regain your senses, and it was your little whines that reminded Ellie that her hand was still squeezed around your throat. Quickly, Ellie released her grip as she pulled out of you, causing you to gasp in at the combination of it all. And maybe it was the weed or something, but the feeling of all that blood rushing back to your head right after cumming made you feel all dizzy again.

Ellie was quick to help you back down from the vanity, taking the joint out of her mouth and leaving it on the table before taking you to the couch against the wall as she whispered and cooed about how good you were. She laid you down and then got up, stumbling around the room for something to quickly clean yourselves up with. What she returned with was something oddly familiar, however.

“Ellie, is that my underwear?”

“It’s meant to be there, anyways. What’s the big deal?” She shrugged, while wiping up whatever was between your legs still with the small garment.

Afterwards, she threw off the strap, retrieved the joint. and flopped dramatically on top of you, much to your protests. But you couldn’t be mad at your girlfriend for long, as she peppered kisses all over your face while giggling at how you scrunched your nose at her antics. It would be blissful for a while, just the two off you, passing the weed and holding each other close. That is, until a sharp, rapid knock on the door reminded you both of where you two were.

“Shows over, lovebirds. Ellie, get your fucking ass out here, we’re on in five minutes” called out a male voice, the drummer - you presumed - in Ellie’s band.

Ellie groaned, rolling her eyes and glaring at the door as she took another puff from the joint.

“Fuck off, Jesse. We were having a moment here”

“Uh huh. Less fucking more moving, or we’ll start without you!” Jesse’s voice faded out slowly as he walked away. And when his footsteps finally disappeared, Ellie returned her gaze back down to you and sighed.

“You heard him, baby. I gotta go to work now” She said in playful defeat.

You nodded let her climb off of you to get dressed, giggling at how she did the little jump-shimmy to get her jeans on (and you also stared a little, at how it showed her ass) and then sat up on the couch to slowly get dressed, too. Then, out of your peripheral, you saw Ellie freeze on her way to the door and slowly turn to you with a mischievous smile.

“Buuttt, we technically have three out of those five minutes left, Yknow..”

And before you could even reply, Ellie ran back and jumped onto your lap, straddling your thighs. She let out a giggle before grabbing your face roughly and kissing you, hard. She nipped at your bottom lip and sucked on your tongue, letting out pleased groans when your hands started travelling from holding her waist to squeezing her ass. And while your mouth travelled lower and lower, beginning to suck a mark right at the column of her throat, Ellie took a deep inhale of the joint and gripped your chin upwards to blow it into your mouth. She made sure to keep eye contact during the entire time, and instead of letting you exhale right away, she locked your lips with hers once again before pulling away.

“Pretty girl…” she murmured, watching your hazy red eyes as you let the smoke pour out of your mouth.

Leaning in again for one more slow, deep kiss, before finally sitting back, Ellie pulled away reluctantly and stood up. She started walking to the door before glancing back at you.

“Gotta go for real now. Wish me luck?” You smiled.

“Good luck, Ellie”

“Don’t need it” She whispered, while back looking at you softly.

And once she was out the door and running to make it to the stage on time, you finally got up from the couch. On shaky legs, you started picking up all your clothes that were thrown half hazardly around the room to put them on. Except there was one small issue: where the fuck were your panties?

(And maybe later, after watching the video of your girlfriend performing that night, would you notice the small black lace hanging from her back pocket. A good luck charm, as Ellie called it.)

#tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #wlw #sapphic #bisexual #lesbian #ellie x you #ellie x reader

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut - oral (f & m receiving), fingering, p in v, f!Reader, semi-public

Synopsis: you and the Duke find yourselves sharing an intimate moment within the confines of his office when unexpectedly, Neuvillette chooses to pay Wriothesley a visit

A/N: I dedicate this piece to @crystalwolfblog & @arthurbristow - this is my first attempt at writing for Genshin, so please be gentle

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

In the opulent office of Wriothesley, the Duke of the Fortress, a symphony of soft rustles echoed as he sifted through the papers strewn across his expansive wooden desk. The room exuded an air of authority, adorned with rich tapestries and antique furnishings that spoke of a legacy steeped in history.

The Duke, a figure of power and refinement, reclined in his plush leather chair, an emblem of comfort amidst the grandeur. His legs were casually spread, an embodiment of relaxed dominance.

Positioned between his legs, you knelt down, skillfully taking his rock-hard dick into your mouth with deliberate and measured intent, striving to provide an experience of unparalleled pleasure. You were drawing him into the depths of your mouth at a leisurely pace. Your dedication was evident as you explored the limits, the tip of your nose delicately brushing against his groin in tandem with the deepthroating.

As one of the guardians laboring within the esteemed Fortress, your daily existence revolved around subservience to none other than the formidable Duke Wriothesley himself. Life in this capacity was far from easy, marked by numerous challenges inherent to your responsibilities. Yet, amidst the intricacies of your duties, the most unforeseen development transpired – you found yourself captivated by an unexpected love, directed towards the Duke. In a twist of fate, your sentiments were reciprocated by the very figure of authority you served. In the grand tapestry of your experiences, this revelation of mutual affection unfolded as a stroke of fortune.

A guttural mixture of grunts and hisses escaped him, a visceral response to the teasing graze of your teeth against his sensitive member. Amidst the intensity, a low, warning growl emerged from him, "Watch your teeth, babygirl," a cautionary note laced with a blend of desire and insistence.

With an audible pop, you withdrew his cock from your mouth, casting an upward glance at the Duke. "Sorry, your grace," you offered in apology, the tip of his dick resting against your extended, flexed tongue.

Wriothesley deftly slipped his hand into your hair, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against your scalp. "That's my girl. Keep on sucking."

A warm smile graced your lips as you obediently took his member back into your mouth, a silent acknowledgment of your commitment to fulfilling his desires.

With a deliberate pace, you resumed the act of deep-throating him, emitting a soft moan that reverberated around his shaft.

The Duke, momentarily abandoning his pen, leaned back against the chair, a series of breathy curses escaping his lips. "Oh God, you're sucking me so fucking well," he lauded, his words a testament to the pleasure he was experiencing. "Just like that. Work your tongue for me, babygirl," he encouraged, his voice a seductive melody guiding your actions.

Being the dutiful subordinate you were, one of your hands delicately manipulated the skin on his cock, mirroring the rhythmic motion of your head's bobbing. Upon withdrawing his member from your mouth, a glistening trail of precum had already emerged from the slit at its tip. Reverently, you planted a series of kisses along his length, descending to the base where you enveloped his weighty, seed-laden testicles into your mouth, all the while emitting sultry moans that bespoke a certain carnal abandon.

In response, he tilted his head backward, and his other hand seamlessly found its place in your hair, securing a hold on the back of your head. "Yeah, just like that," he echoed, his praise punctuated by repetition. "You're so good for me, Y/N, so obedient, and your mouth's so skilled."

Suddenly, a brief knock resonated through the massive wooden door, interrupting any potential acknowledgment before Wriothesley could utter a polite "come in." In a swift response, Neuvillette, the Iudex of Fontaine, entered the room.

In the nick of time, Wriothesley managed to adjust, shifting slightly and leaning forward, creating the illusion of engrossment in the scattered documents on his desk. With head bowed, he endeavored to compose himself, suppressing any telltale signs of the lingering arousal that had adorned his cheeks with a delicate shade of pink.

The creak of the opening door initially startled you, but upon recognizing Neuvillette's voice, a mischievous grin played on your lips - it presented the ideal opportunity to playfully taunt your beloved Wriothesley.

"Wriothesley, I believe you overlooked the report I requested," Neuvillette exclaimed, closing the distance to the desk.

Wriothesley subtly shifted, ensuring that the Iudex remained oblivious to your discreet presence, kneeling between his legs with his fly undone. "I… Uh… Ah, the report! Yes, yes, I'll bring it to you promptly," the dark-haired man nodded hastily.

"Ah, so you've prepared it?" Neuvillette inquired, halting right in front of the expansive desk.

Wriothesley affirmed, "Yes."

"Excellent. In that case, you can present it to me now. I'd rather not risk you forgetting it later," Neuvillette teased lightly, a genial smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Meanwhile, you once again took Wriothesley's member into your mouth, creating a firm suction as you sensually bobbed your head, skillfully massaging his arousal with your tongue. The dichotomy between the professional exchange and the clandestine pleasure beneath the desk added a layer of tension to the scene.

Wriothesley regarded Neuvillette with a certain bluntness, as though grappling with the comprehension of the words directed at him. After a moment, he shook his head, scanning the surroundings and shuffling some papers in a futile attempt to locate the elusive report. The throbbing ache of his dick in your warm, wet mouth posed a distracting challenge, threatening to unleash his essence right then and there — a far-from-helpful circumstance.

"Uhm, can I bring it to you later, Neuvillette? As you can see, I'm a little… busy," he stammered, a hint of discomfort in his tone.

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow in a deliberate, slow manner. "All I can see is that you can't keep your desk tidy. Maybe if you clean it up, you'll not have any issues with delivering stuff I'm asking for without a delay. Do you need a hand with those papers?"

"NO!" Wriothesley exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock at his own unexpected outburst. "I mean, no need…"

You deftly withdrew his manhood from your mouth, beginning to jerk him, the tip of your tongue dancing over the sensitive mushroom head.

Wriothesley licked his lips briefly, a soft pant escaping him as he covered his mouth with a curled palm, his vulnerability momentarily exposed.

Observing the Duke's flushed countenance, Neuvillette frowned. "Are you sure you're okay? Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are glistening. You appear as though you might have a fever. Perhaps I should send someone to check upon you?"

Wriothesley shook his head, struggling to maintain composure. "No need, Neuvillette, I'm just a tad fatigued, that's all."

The Iudex acknowledged with a sigh. "As you say, my friend. But do remember, it's a crucial document, and I need it, right?"

"You have it," Wriothesley affirmed eagerly.

Neuvillette surveyed the expansive room, nodding to himself, and then turned around to depart.

Simultaneously, your actions took a more intimate turn. You intensified your movements on Wriothesley's dick and deftly squeezed his testicles, eliciting a climax that painted your face with three swift spurts of his cum. The seed adorned your nose, lips, and cheek, while a trickle descended down your chin, gracing your exposed décolletage as your dark shirt remained provocatively unbuttoned.

The sudden release prompted a loud moan from Wriothesley, a sound he managed to stifle only after it had echoed through the room.

Certainly, Neuvillette overheard the unexpected noise, prompting him to swiftly pivot around, fixing the Duke with a quizzical raised eyebrow.

Wriothesley endeavored to conjure a quick falsehood, his eyes meeting Neuvillette's with feigned innocence.

Meanwhile, your tongue skillfully traced the sensitive part beneath the Duke's dick which turned out to get even harder than before, focusing on the most prominent vein.

Wriothesley, attempting to maintain composure, offered a sly grin and replied, "Ah, just reminiscing about a particularly amusing anecdote from the Court of Fontaine, my dear Neuvillette. Nothing more."

Neuvillette sighed audibly, his concern evident. "You're spending an excessive amount of time in your office. Maintaining work-life balance is crucial, remember," he gently reminded before departing from the room.

In response, Wriothesley shifted in his chair, leveling you with a stern gaze, his brow quirked, and lips pressed into a thin line. "What the hell, babygirl? Did you genuinely aim to get me caught red-handed with my cock stuffing your mouth, huh?" he inquired, a tad of frustration in his tone. One hand found its place in your hair, while the thumb of the other was used to wipe away his seed from your cheek.

Undeterred, you turned your head and sensually took his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it provocatively, your gaze never leaving his. When you released his thumb, a playful smile adorned your lips as you expressed, "I just wanted to savor the taste of your semen, your grace."

A rosy hue graced Wriothesley's cheeks, his grin taking on a mischievous tilt. "Get on the desk," he commanded.

As an obedient girl, you rose, deftly undoing your belt and shedding your pants along with your panties. His gaze lingered, his tongue moistening his lips in anticipation, as you gracefully hopped onto the desk, perching on the edge and sensually parting your legs, a display crafted exclusively for him.

"So perfect," he murmured, this time relinquishing control as he knelt before you. His fingers delicately parted your folds, and his tongue traced a deliberate path up and down your moist slit, paying particular attention to your throbbing clit.

A symphony of moans escaped your lips, your hand finding solace in his dark locks, fingers entwining in a silent plea. "Oh, fuck, Wrio, more," you urged, surrendering to the escalating waves of pleasure he orchestrated.

Wriothesley moistened two of his fingers with a deliberate lick before expertly guiding them into the warmth of your pussy.

The consequence was your supine form sprawled across his desk, your back gracefully arched, and your legs enveloping his head, seeking intensified friction. In the midst of burgeoning pleasure, a fervent moan escaped your lips, carrying his name in a breathy melody.

Wriothesley's skilled tongue danced over your engorged clit, synchronized with the rhythmic exploration of his fingers within your velvety, slippery walls. "You're delicious, Y/N," he murmured, savoring the moment before bestowing a tender kiss upon your aroused clitoris.

Once you were thoroughly drenched, and your runny juices cascaded onto the marble floor, he rose from his position. With a deliberate motion, he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his fly fully, allowing his uniform pants to slink down his legs, forming a pool at his ankles.

Seated, you took a moment to unbutton his uniform, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he joined in the effort. Soon, his greyish waistcoat and shirt beneath were opened, unveiling a canvas of a muscular torso and abs, each etched with scars that whispered tales of battles endured.

"You're goddamn handsome," you whispered, your lips barely moving.

A gracious smile adorned his face as he expressed his gratitude. His hand then found its place on your chest, exerting a firm pressure that guided you to recline once again on his desk. With practiced ease, he parted your legs with one hand, while the other indulged in jerking his cock.

Wriothesley, driven by an unbridled desire, pressed the tip of his dick against your entrance. With a single, commanding thrust, he fully immersed himself in the warmth of your pussy, bottoming out, leaving you breathless, lips parted, emitting a seductive whine. "God, you're so wet and tight, holy shit," he groaned, fingers gripping your hips as he embarked on a deliberate, slow, and profound rhythm.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, an urging plea for him to fuck you deeper. "Fuck me hard, my Duke," you implored, locking eyes with him, fingers clasping his forearm. "I know you've yearned for the taste of my pussy, and now it's yours, all yours," you playfully teased. "I've missed you so much, my grace."

"I missed you too," he whispered, punctuating his words with a potent thrust. Leaning forward, he captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, tongues dancing as his dick skillfully explored every gummy spot within you, igniting a symphony of pleasure that resonated through the intimate encounter.

Wriothesley gradually increased his rhythm until the only sounds reverberating within the confines of the room were the amalgamation of your labored panting, impassioned moans, and the rhythmic slapping of skin meeting skin.

His dick pulsated within you, responding to the tightening pressure of your inner walls. "Oh, Y/N, you're so eager to milk my cock, aren't you?" he grunted, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation evident as the tension coiled within his abdomen threatened to unravel. "I'm cumming, holy shit, I'm cumming!"

In an explosive release, he reached the climax for the second time, dispensing the entirety of his thick, heated seed within your pussy, the involuntary contractions of your pussy still clenching his member.

A whimpered cry escaped your lips as you called out his name, your hand slipping between your thighs to tenderly stimulate your swollen clit. "Fuck, oh God," you panted, the intensity of the experience etched across your features. "It was so good, oh God." The room lingered in the aftermath, a symphony of shared pleasure and sated desire.

Wriothesley withdrew from you, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips as he admired the mingled releases oozing from your cunny. Opening a drawer, he retrieved a box of tissues. First, he tended to himself, methodically cleaning and readjusting his attire — zipping his tie and buttoning the shirt, securing his belt, and settling his pants around his hips. Then, with a meticulous touch, he ensured the same care for you. "I needed this," he confessed, picking up your discarded panties and gently guiding them up your legs, assisting you in dressing, "It's been a while, and the tension was oh so painful."

A playful grin adorned your features as you deftly maneuvered into your pants and buttoned your shirt. "I know, my Duke, but you're well aware I've been dispatched on a clandestine mission, leaving me with little control over the situation," you responded, a trace of understanding in your voice.

Wriothesley nodded solemnly. "I know," he affirmed, drawing you into a close and reassuring embrace. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. "Thank you."

"Anytime, my grace," you responded, a warm smile gracing your features. "Now, you should deliver the report to the Iudex. None of us want him angered."

#wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x reader smut #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x you #wrio smut #wrio x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin smut

[xob1tchs]

idk if you taking requests, but can you do a smut where reader and stiles are in a secret relationship cause reader is scott’s brother, n like one day stiles is so pussy drunk that he’s a whimpering moaning mess. and then scott just so happens to walk in. THEN reader starts to try and get up to follow her brother once he storms out the room, but stiles holds her back and continues until they both cum? just a thought..🫶🏽.

(btw idk if you do anon emojis but if so can i be ‘🧟‍♀️’)

. • °🍼✧༺ 17+ smut below the cut !

stiles has always joked about how he’s a lesser man when it comes to you, crude comments about how he’d give anything to spend all day between your legs, making you squirm just cause he likes it.

but it’s times like this when you actually think stiles might be a feign for pussy – your pussy.

the bed creaks with every rapid thrust of his hips, sheet sheilding where your bodies connect but it doesn’t matter because you can hear the squelching from your sopping folds, and feel the wetness seep down your ass crack splashing across the backs of your thigs when his sack hits your skin. and even if you could see the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you, it wouldn’t matter because – well stiles looks like that.

pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, bitten lips parted enough to let whines and groans slip free every couple of seconds, incoherent praises causing your sweaty skin to flush even more. he’s sweating too, fluffy hair matted to his forhead, sticking up in places from your gripping it.

“jesus fuck baby, love this cunt so much” he mutters, eyebrows frowning as he stares down st you with a determined pout “gonna fucking cum right in this tight pussy, feels too fucking good” you clench around him, gummy walls molding to every ridge and vein along his girthy length, arching your back off the back in hopes to feel him even deeper – whining and crying out when he does.

he drops his face to the crook of your neck, hips becoming slightly sloppy, movements less smooth and more desperate — cock twitching inside of you now, his release definitely nearing.

“oh’baby fuck me so good, feels so amazing” he’s practically crying into your shoulder, thrusting so forcefully your body begins to scoot up the bed, headboard nocking against the bed rhythmically “ — never gonna leave your cunt babe, might cry’feels so good”

your about to moan his name out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull when a creak sounds followed by a glass hitting the floor amd small whispered curse “oh shit!” he murmurs, and when you peak over stiles shoulder to lock eyes with ones that mirror your own, your breath completely leaves your lungs and sudden your trying to scramble away from stiles.

scott makes a face of disgust, throwing his hands up in the air as he spins on his heel, the sound of sneakers hitting the stairs loud as he stomps away “shit, shit, shit! stiles stop!” you cry, gasping when stiles shifts to his knees, pulling out to just the tip as he stares down at you with pleading eyes.

“gotta cum baby”

he slams back into you to punctuate his sentence, your jaw going slack in a silent moan, pussy clenching around his cock in a violent manner. your toes curl against the mattress, tears welling at your lash line – an overwhelming mix of embarrassment and pleasure taking over as he pounds into you so hard you’re worried he might actually hurt you.

you can feel the pulse and twitch of his cock against your straining walls, struggling to take him the deeper he goes, pressing your body so harshly into the bed you swear you hear the crackle of wooden planks beneathe your matress.

“s-stiles, it’s to-to much” you plead, mascara running streaks down your cheeks now, sweat and tears matting your hair to your face and neck, the sight making stiles go cross eyed, gripping the underneaths of your thighs as he leans back just enough to fold you in half, biceps rippling beneath his taut skin – prominent veins trailing up his fingers to his forearms, its enough to have your eyes rolling back into your skull, biting down on your bottom lip so hard blood fills your jaw, making you cry out in pain — but mostly because you’re cumming so hard that it drains the air from your lungs, stiles suffocating you with a wet and lazy kiss as his own orgasm creeps closer.

it’s not much longer before he’s becoming erratic in his thrusts, rhytm thrown a bump as he pumps his seed deep in your cunt, filling you so much it begins to spill put around the base of cock, and down his balls, making obscene noises as he pulls out with a weak hiss, dark eyebrows furrowing from the lack of warmth.

“maybe we’ll close the door next time?” he smirks down at your spent expression, brown eyes full of trouble.

. • °🍼✧༺ extremely unedited!

#teen wolf smut #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski smut #stiles smut #fanfic smut #fanfic #teen wolf #🧟‍♀️ anon <3

[bunji-enthusiast]

Pssttt can we have some more fluffy and cuddly dogday, asking for a friend. Also your work is absolutely amazing.

Note || So you ask and I shall deliver— also thank you so much I appreciate the love ❤️

Sypnosis || it seems your sunny friend is in a particularly cuddly mood.

In the quiet sanctuary of your safe haven, where the harsh memories of Playtime Co. and the relentless torment of CatNap faded into distant echoes, you had found solace. The air was thick with a sense of peace, punctuated only by the soft rustle of plastic leaves outside the window. DogDay, was riddled with weary bones and eyes filled with a gentle longing, padding over to where the former employee rested.

"Angel," DogDay's deep, rumbling voice broke the tranquil silence, "may I join you?"

You looked up, a soft smile gracing your lips as you met DogDay's gaze. "Of course, my friend," you replied, your hand patting the spot beside you.

With a grateful wag of his tail, DogDay settled beside you, his large frame engulfing you in a comforting embrace. Despite the weariness that lingered in his eyes, there was a glimmer of warmth and trust that shone through, like a beacon in the darkness.

As you sat together, you could feel DogDay's steady heartbeat against his chest, a rhythmic reminder of the bond that had formed between you both. His fur -- though slightly matted from the trials and tribulations he had endured, was a soft, comforting presence against your skin.

"Thank you, Angel," DogDay murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "For being here, for… for everything."

You reached out, your fingers threading through DogDay's fur with a tenderness born of understanding and compassion. "You don't need to thank me, my dear friend," you whispered. "We're in this together, remember?"

DogDay nuzzled closer, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned into the embrace. For a moment, all was still, the weight of the past lifting as you basked in the simple joy of being together.

In that fleeting moment, amidst the chaos of your troubled pasts, both you and DogDay found peace.

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #DogDay #x reader

[mukbangg]

CAN WE PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE GET MORE SIZE DIFFERENCE W BILLY 🙏🙏🙏

(Writing this at 1 am...ehm kinda outta juice so it's just a half assed drabble but yes,Billy and his fat cock)

18+

God I can't choose between Billy that teases you trying to take his cock or Billy that's taking deep breaths and trying not to bust everytime you move.

Like maybe he let's you ride him.

You're in his lap, back to his hard chest as he glides the head of his leaky cock through your folds, grinding against your clit. And you're all dumbed out from his fingers, punctuating the rhythmic slickslickslick of his cock fucking your folds with soft snorts of whimpers.

Then as Billy reaches over your body to cram his fingers back into your sloppy hole, you're whining and bucking your hips so his cock catches on your entrance, and he groans, head falling to the crook of your neck.

"Wan'it Billy...I can take it..."

You mewl, delicate fingers reaching down press the ruddy head of his cock to your pussy.

And when you're all sweet begging like that, cunny fluttering against his drooling cock, how can he say no? You'll just have to deal with the consequences later, he thinks vaguely before you're turning in his lap to face him.

You lower yourself onto his fat cock, nails digging into his shoulder as you whimper and sink down slowly inch by inch. And you surprisingly make it halfway but jesus, it's just so much stretching you out and pressed up in your tight walls.

Your face is buried in his neck as he cups your nape with one large palm, the other on your hips and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. And you're crying and whimpering below his ear, driving him wild as he tries not to fuck up into your warm cunny.

"Cant billy, s'too big!!"

You choke out shamefully, sniffling.

He tuts, pressing soft kisses into the crown of your head and chuckling under his breath.

"Greedy girl.Just couldn't wait, c'you?"

His arm wiggle between your bodies to press a rough thumb to your needy clit, smearing over it with your slick and circling it and you sob out, fitting another inch into your pussy.

"Wont fit Billy!! It wont!"

You slur, but despite that your cunt was swallowing him all the way down to the hilt and hes groaning when he feels his tip fit snug against your cervix.

"Theeree we go, atta girl,"

He moans out, but you're too far gone, pulsing and clenching so tight around him he thinks for a moment you want him all the way in your womb."Look doll,"He whispers, making you pull back and glance down at you tummy where a small bulge was just visible.

He thumbs over it,  and you feel his cock twitch in you.

"I'm allll the way up here,"

Your wombs kissing his tip like its begging for him to move, and he rocks his hips up, earning a broken squeal for you as he starts bouncing you softly.

"Billy- Billy- s'good unnghhhh--!!"

You all but cry, and he cant help but want to fill his little cumdump up so much you're leaking his cum for days.

#billy the kid #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #smut #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbsoas

[eideticallys]

New Favorite Game

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: maybe a part of spencer has always been sadistic but seeing your tears, seeing you mindless in pleasure has awakened something sinister in him. and spencer is nothing but a competitive, eager learner. (part 1 to new favorite banter, but this can be read as a standalone.)

genre: smut (minors dni!)

warnings: smut without plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), dom/sub undertones, slightly mean!spencer, rough sex, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, mating press & doggy style (tell me if i forgot to add something!)

word count: 834

author's notes: my first ever smutty piece! i'm kinda happy with how it turned out but considering it's my first time writing smut, i know i have lots to improve on. however, i hope everyone will still like this. with that said, please tell me your thoughts about this & minors do not interact (please)! anyway, have fun reading! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

PART TWO

SPENCER CAN’T BELIEVE THERE’S A PART OF HIM THAT ENJOYS SEEING YOU CRYING. It’s cruel. Sadistic, yet he can’t help it. The sight of you wailing, begging him for more, begging him to go harder, deeper gets him going.

Pounding you into the sheets, Spencer thinks he just died and entered heaven with how delicious your cunt has tightened. Your cries and moans are so loud, he’s certain he’s getting a noise complaint in the morning. His very first one, considering he’s rarely home and he’s a stickler for rules.

Plus, he never thought he had it in him to make a woman cry out in pleasure.

He’s not Morgan, who, when compared to him, is very experienced in that department. Derek always had a line of girls whenever the team went out for drinks until he met Savannah. Nowadays, Derek is a one-woman kind of guy.

Spencer is definitely unlike Rossi, who had a revolving door of spouses, no offense meant. Of course, Rossi knew a lot of things when it comes to women.

Spencer is not like Hotch, for certain. Hotch is a father, of course, he knows a thing or two about the many ways in the acts of sexual prowess.

So, when the night with you took a steamy turn, Spencer didn’t think he’d be able to bend you over the table, pound you into the mattress, and blow your back out in just one night. He thought it’d be done so soon but no.

You were insatiable.

You weren’t content with just simple foreplay and fucking him in one position. You were relentless and Spencer was eager to please you.

Spencer was eager to get lost in your body.

And now, Spencer has you on your back, legs folded toward your chest, as he fucked you into total submission. His strokes were so deep, he could feel his tip nudging your cervix. He knows you’ll be sore by the time the sun rises but he can’t help it. It feels so good to be buried deep inside you.

This might just be Spencer’s favorite position. He gets to pound you relentlessly. He has you at his mercy as he burrows into you rhythmically, entirely, while seeing your face wet with fresh tears as his sweat beads and trickles down to you.

He likes that he gets to see how much of a mess he has made when he looks down and sees himself entering your cunt, hearing the sloppiness and the sound of sloshing.

God, you were so wet. How is that possible? How could someone get that wet? Spencer knows the answer but he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it when he has your body writhing under him.

“More, Spencer,” You sob as you fisted the sheets you laid on, writhing and moving your hips in time with Spencer’s. “P-please, baby. I’m so close. Shit, close, fuck!”

“You feel so good.” Spencer groans in response, punctuating each word with a deep thrust, causing you to whimper, slight drool rolling down the side of your lips. “Is that what you want?”

Too lost in the pleasure, your eyes roll so far back, your body moving to your own accord. You couldn’t hear what Spencer has just said. You couldn’t even begin to process a single syllable he has uttered. Not a single coherent thought going on inside that beautiful brain of yours. 

Spencer, although exhilarated that he has reduced you to just a pile of gyrating flesh, does not like the lack of response at all. Grunting, he flips your body over which caused him to slip out in the process.

“No. No. No.” You whine pathetically, cunt trying to clamp down on him as you feel him slip out. You scratch whatever you could get your hands on in protest. The sheets. The pillows. Spencer. “Y-you’re m-me—shit—mean, Spence. P-please! Cum! I wanna cum! Please!”

“Mean?” Spencer glowers mid-thrust, gripping your hips hard enough to leave purple bruises you’ll be sporting for at least a week. 

He’s being mean? Hasn’t he done everything you’ve asked for tonight? He has given in to all of your demands, prolonging your pleasure, and reducing you to tears, but he’s being mean?

“You want mean, princess?” Spencer asks as you sobbed, trying to get him to move but his hands hinder you from doing so. His cock deliciously pressed against that one spot inside of you. But it wasn’t enough. You want the entirety of him inside you. You want to be filled up to the brim. Your cunt molded to the shape of his cock. “I’ll show you mean.”

Maybe a part of Spencer has always been sadistic but seeing your tears, seeing you mindless in pleasure has awakened something sinister in him. And Spencer is nothing but a competitive, eager learner.

This might just be Spencer’s new favorite game. Pleasuring you until you become a boneless, mindless, and thrashing mess.  

And he always gets what he wants.

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[p4p1l0nn]

sharing is daring.

pairing: dom!jaemin x reader x perv!mark

content warning: 18+, explicit content, voyeurism, fingering, exhibitionism, oral sex, daddy!kink, strong language, cum shot, dom/sub, mdni.

a/n: here we go again.

mark harboured impure thoughts, a realisation that he couldn't deny.

despite attempting to resist the allure of forbidden thoughts, he found himself wrestling with a vice that clung to him. in stark contrast, you embodied the ideal partner for jaemin — your kindness, and thoughtful gestures painted a perfect picture.

yet, mark couldn't escape the remorse that shadowed his improper desires, acknowledging the contrast between your angelic demeanor and his internal conflicts.

in the years of their deep friendship, living together for almost two, jaemin and mark had always found a harmonious coexistence. however, when jaemin introduced you into their shared world, mark became elusive, avoiding eye contact to shield his insecurities.

despite his efforts to play it down, he couldn't help but be captivated by your allure, whether in crop tops, skirts, or the sweaters jaemin gifted on special occasions.

mark kept conversations to a minimum, fearing you might discern the vulnerability beneath his exterior. it wasn't a lack of fondness; quite the opposite. the sound of your sweet voice saying his name triggered an embarrassingly intense response, reminiscent of adolescent awkwardness.

the most challenging part was the thin walls of their shared apartment.

whenever you and jaemin shared intimate moments, mark found himself frozen against the wall, straining to capture the melodic sounds. it felt invasive, like his own private show. despite the guilt, he couldn't resist, and each time you pleaded for his best friend, it left him with the aftermath to clean up and a searing sense of shame.

on another weekend with jaemin, mark regretted not having plans to escape the house. exiting the shower, he found you in the kitchen, wearing a shirt that seemed oddly familiar and a cute skirt that teased the edges of your thighs — an image he wished he could linger on.

shaking off his thoughts, he caught your grin as you announced, “i'm whipping up lunch. ramens cool with you?”

aware of his attire — just shorts and a towel for post-shower drips — he coughed awkwardly. “yeah, sounds great. thanks,” he stammered, and you nodded, pleased with his reply.

“great, go dry off and put on decent clothes,” you teasingly instructed, waving him off with a sweet smile. as he headed to follow your advice, he could have sworn he glimpsed your skirt lifting ever so slightly. no underwear in sight.

muttering under his breath, he quickly retreated to his room.

the following day, mark experienced a blend of disappointment and curiosity, convinced that you and jaemin had spent the evening innocently watching movies. left to ponder in solitude, he found comfort within his own thoughts, unaware of the unexpected surprise awaiting him.

however, at dawn, the walls echoed with the melodic sounds of your moans, catching mark off guard and stirring him from his sleep.

“baby, please,” you pleaded, writhing under his touch. the early hour barely allowed you time to fully awaken before jaemin positioned himself between your legs. his mouth fastened onto your clit, while two fingers expertly explored the throbbing warmth beneath. “need more,” you moaned.

jaemin chuckled, his tongue joining the dance with his fingers, savoring the wetness you shared. with his teasing nature, you had no real complaints. leaning back, his fingers maintained their rhythmic dance inside you, teasing the tender edges that nudged you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

in the throes of your orgasm, coherent thoughts slipped away, your hands desperately seeking something to grasp. one found support against the wall, while the other clutched onto jaemin's shoulders.

your moans created a captivating melody, punctuated by jaemin's name, as his fingers delved deeper. he persisted until your legs quivered on his shoulders, and your moans evolved into whimpers.

“good job, angel,” he purred, moving up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. nuzzling your ear, he whispered, “that’s sure to make him cum.”

mark quivered, his hands shaky, his abdomen marked by his own release.

the disarray persisted every time he overheard his best friend fucking you good. uncertain whether you were oblivious to the thin walls or simply unbothered by who might hear, he cleaned himself up with tissues and donned sweatpants before heading to the bathroom.

however, he was utterly unprepared for your emergence, clad in nothing but one of jaemin's shirts that barely concealed you, a radiant grin greeting him.

speechless, his gaze traced the curve of your thighs, hinting at more than it concealed. the bright marks jaemin had left were now visible, and panic set in as his eyes met yours. his arousal heightened, and the sweetness in your gaze only intensified the ache within him.

fuck.

“heading to the bathroom?” you asked, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, playfully lifting it to reveal a nearly unmistakable view. mark swallowed hard, glancing at the bathroom and back at you. he shook his head, uncertain of any alternative plans.

without pressing further, you grinned, brushing your hand over his arm as you walked past him, leaving him uncomfortably hard with a noticeable tent in his sweatpants.

the following day, there was a noticeable absence of mark, and a twinge of disappointment crept in, albeit unspoken. lucky to have a boyfriend who humorously tolerated your interest in his roommate, he shifted his attention from the phone, immediately sensing the reason behind your demeanour on his bed.

“why not ask him to hang out, or better yet, go to him?” jaemin suggested. you sighed and settled comfortably into a comfortable position.

“easy for you to say. i want him to join our fun willingly, to come to us on his own. i’m sure he wants it too,” you expressed.

“babe, he won't just wander over here without knowing you want him to,” jaemin explained.

you playfully mimicked his endearment, throwing a touch of sarcasm into your tone as you echoed the term ‘babe’ and then rolled your eyes with a teasing grin. “got any better ideas on how to make that happen?” you asked, challenging him to offer a solution.

“simple,” jaemin remarked, setting aside his phone. he rose, banging on the wall beside you. a small jump from you, with quickened heartbeat — was it excitement? that remained unknown.

as mark stayed silent, jaemin knocked again, calling for him to join. you shifted, propping yourself up as jaemin leaned over you.

“want to let him see as i make you feel good?” jaemin murmured in your ear, eliciting a soft whine. with an eager nod, you let jaemin pull your shirt up just as mark opened his door.

mark halted, lips parting as if to speak, yet nothing came out. you turned to him, greeted by that sweet smile once again. that damn smile.

“oh f– my bad. i’ll leave.” he blurted out after a beat, starting to leave. jaemin stopped him saying, “no, do join us.” mark obeyed, looking somewhat surprised by his own actions as he closed the door. “sit down.”

mark walked over, settling into the chair at jaemin’s desk. his eyes followed the scene before him, hands clasped in his lap, a feeble attempt to cover his growing arousal.

“i know you like listening to her as much as i do. always getting yourself off to it. want to see it up close?” jaemin asked casually, as though chatting about everyday matters, leaving mark slightly caught off guard.

“i’m lost. and i probably shouldn't be,” he admitted, eyes darting between the two of you, attempting not to fixate too much on the exposed skin of your torso. the challenge intensified when jaemin easily undid your bra, sliding it off.

“we've wanted you to watch for a while now. you do too,” you said, reaching up to cup your breasts, kneading them lightly as you locked eyes daringly.

he glanced at jaemin, who seemed uninterested in waiting for a response.

“the door is always open if you want to leave. but just know, she's going to experience a more intense orgasm with you in here,” jaemin shrugged, removing his shirt to press closer to you. your bare chests pressed together as he captured your lips.

the kiss was hot, with teeth clashing and tongues exchanging passion until it became breathless. the audible groans and hisses from mark only intensified the scene.

you gracefully lowered jaemin’s sweats, skillfully pushing them down his hips. seating himself, he kicked them off while simultaneously tugging down your shorts. now, you were adorned in the cute panties chosen with mark in mind.

jaemin guided you with a firm touch, adjusting your positions. placing you on his lap, he leaned against the headboard, securing your legs over his, entirely exposed, facing mark.

a satisfied breath left you, feeling a gentle heat rising as you observed his flustered response. it seemed as if he might faint, captivated by the way your panties delicately embraced your moist folds.

jaemin’s fingers glided along your arms, orchestrating a display to stir both you and mark, evident in your increased restlessness. a swift slap to the outside of your thigh followed, making you jolt, and you mumbled a quiet apology.

“missed that,” jaemin playfully noted, his hands resuming their gentle exploration — tracing over your waist, down your stomach, then ascending to tenderly brush his thumbs across your nipples.

“i said i was sorry, daddy.” you repeat louder, making sure both jaemin and mark hear. “good girl,” jaemin praises. satisfied with your response, he leans down, planting gentle kisses on the nape of your neck while his hand skillfully circles your nipple. tugging it.

mark couldn't help but be in awe, observing the way you unraveled effortlessly beneath jaemin’s caress. witnessing your eyes roll back and your hips seek friction was nearly overwhelming.

his hands tensed against his pants, resisting the temptation to touch himself, afraid he might cum at the slightest contact.

“she gets all excited when you're near,” jaemin teased, running his fingers over the patch between your thighs. his arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you from fidgeting. “he can't even look you in the eyes, can he, baby?”

you denied it with a shake of your head, focused on the rosy hue on mark's cheeks. he gazed up, seemingly attempting to resist his friend's teasing remarks.

when your eyes locked, a shiver ran through him. he couldn't hold back a soft moan, succumbing to the urge to caress himself through his pants.

your desperation was evident, seeking his attention and melting into jaemin's embrace when acknowledged. your thighs parted, fingers playing with a nipple, all for him.

suddenly, he understood, his thoughts swirling with each time you'd put on a show, every self-denial. the realisation struck him: he could have accepted this from the start. forgiving himself seemed like an uphill battle.

“want a glimpse?” jaemin asked, sliding a slender finger beneath the edge of your underwear. its tip grazed close enough to your clit, eliciting a jolt and imploring glances toward mark.

he vigorously nodded, his wide, entranced eyes shifting between you and jaemin, who seemed equally affected judging by the evident bulge against your backside.

with a nod from his friend, jaemin released your waist, assisting you in sliding the fabric down your hips and tossing them towards mark. it landed delicately at his feet, capturing his gaze as if he'd received a celestial prize. it was a memento he'd hold dear, like a cherished relic, long after his journey in life reached its conclusion.

“mark, look at me,” you urged. his gaze obediently met yours, seeking direction. then, it wandered downward, tracing the contours of your body where jaemin casually trailed a finger through your wetness. he swirled it, circled your clit, and then descended again.

mark choked a moan, his hips responding involuntarily. it felt surreal, like a dream. you resembled a masterpiece, laid out before him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you endured jaemin's teasing.

“fuck– look how soaked she is,” jaemin murmured, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. his fingers reached your clit, tracing slowly. tilting your head back, you exposed the smooth stretch of your throat.

“daddy, faster please,” you whispered, and mark could discern the tension in your thighs, resisting the urge to do anything that might warrant punishment.

“what was that, angel? do you think you deserve this? being a bit of a naughty plaything for my buddy. loyalty’s not your strong suit, huh? but hey, sharing is caring, right?”

you let out a soft purr, gracefully arching against him, enticing him to explore further. two fingers smoothly entered you, and your cry echoed, a volume mark had never witnessed before.

“need more– want to show him how i can take it. please daddy, i’ll be good.” you babbled, intoxicated by the sensation of both men focusing on you. you'd yearned for this for so long that any sense of shame eluded you.

a rush of pride coursed through you — pride in triumphing over jaemin, in securing the attention you yearned for from mark. you held your head high, proud that you hadn't yielded even in the face of the realization that his desire matched your own intense cravings.

“such a dirty little slut,” jaemin withdrew his fingers, delivering teasing slaps to your clit before immersing them once more within you. a muffled moan escaped you, a melodic symphony of pleasure, and mark hissed in response. he hurriedly fumbled, pushing down his pants until he could free himself.

you whimpered at the sight of his attractive length, somewhat lengthy and slightly thick, a tempting vein running underneath that left your mouth watering. his hand moved in slow, almost hesitant strokes along the shaft.

around jaemin’s fingers, your walls fluttered, urging him deeper in a desperate quest for fullness. he chuckled, curling his fingers to stimulate the sensitive spot inside you. your hips bucked, and you emitted a pitiful sound of longing.

mark’s eyes fluttered shut, torn between your blissful expression, the rhythm of your chest gently rising, and the adept movements of his friend's fingers delving into you with practiced finesse — the technique he wished his own fingers possessed.

“enjoying the view?” jaemin asked as he noticed mark's gaze fixated on your arousal, your folds yielding easily to his touch. mark nodded. “just wait till you see her cum. i might let you taste if you're into that. your call.”

you were swept away in the excitement, the mere thought of mark's tongue bringing you nearer to saturating your boyfriend's fingers with bliss, a sensation he could feel.

a firm hand took hold of your hip, gently guiding you back into position as his fingers skillfully caressed your most sensitive spot. the room echoed with your soft whimpers and unintelligible pleas.

“please, baby, let me cum. i’ve been good right? just wanna show him how amazing you make me feel, jaemin, please,” you begged, holding onto his forearm as he kept exploring your most sensitive spots. the wet sounds turned you on even more, and the feeling of your juices on your thighs cooled your overheated skin.

“you’re looking the wrong way, angel. is this a good way to entertain our guest?” he questioned. you shook your head, softly denying with innocence.

“please, mark. want me to cum for you? i’ll do it. c-can’t hold back.” you desperately asked, your words blending together. you clung to the brink, jaemin's thumb caressing your clit, his fingertips pressing into your hip as you yearned.

“cum for me.” mark urged, his hips moving in sync with each stroke of his hand over his erection. precum shimmered at the tip, easing the firm tugs he applied.

he approached the brink, apparent in the rhythm of his breathing, the creased brow, and the regular sweep of his tongue across his lower lip.

and there it was. your thoughts scattered, just as he commanded you to release. the climax struck you like an oncoming force, your eyes rolling back, and your thighs struggling to close, requiring jaemin's grip to prevent you from slipping off his lap entirely. you gasped, attempting to reclaim the air that had been forced out in a desperate cry.

the rush of blood in your ears subsided, and you only re-entered reality at the sound of mark's groans.

he observed the way your essence trickled down, a creamy wetness tracing the curve of your buttocks and pooling in his best friend's lap. you shivered with the lingering pleasure, your eyes half-closed, and your breath coming quicker.

he engraved the moment into his mind as he pleased himself, the climax sweeping over him. his essence spilled out, thick and seemingly boundless, trickling down his hand. each effort to relish the ecstasy only spread his release along the length of his arousal.

you delicately slid away from jaemin's hold, finding it challenging to stand on weakened legs. stepping toward where mark was seated, you placed your hands on his thighs and gracefully knelt down. sporting that familiar smile and daring gaze, you looked up at him, nestling between his open thighs.

“hi, mind if i savour the moment?” you asked, fingers tracing up his legs to his still erect, cum-adorned member. damn, he was a goner.

“i’d be damned, princess.”

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