#THERE DOING ALL 18 TYPES IM SO EXCITED!!

[corsolanite]

I’m living for the Pokémon X Hatsune Miku collab!!😍

#THERE DOING ALL 18 TYPES IM SO EXCITED!! #official artwork #project voltage #hastune miku #meloetta #rillaboom #skeledirge #primarina #chatot #lapras #aurorus #flygon #altaria #pokemon #nintendo #gaming #game freak #Pokémon

[ipseitydelrey]

your lips, my lips ☆ s. reid

ship sub!spencer reid x fem!reader

content/warnings smutty smut (mdni 18+), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, accidental voyeurism, he sounds like a slut you can’t blame yourself

word count 2.5k

summary after spencer returns home early from a case, you come back home after work to find him in an incredibly compromised position.

a/n ignore the accidental hiatus, but hi !! im probably not going to be able to post at all in may bc im going to be in europe for the entire month. i’m posting this before going in a cave so…enjoy this as a treat!

To put it briefly, Spencer was…awkward.

That’s not to discredit him, though. You can tell that he loves the team and you (especially you). Although he’s less awkward around people he trusts and has known for longer, he still can’t really speak up for what he wants.

And the poor boy is just so touch starved. It’s clear he’s practically clueless when it comes to other forms of intimacy aside from sympathetic hugs to friends or victims in a case. Hell, it even took a month since you started dating for Spencer to be comfortable huddling next to you on the couch; it took even longer for him to be fine with sharing the same bed.

You had barely done anything sexual yet. The closest you had probably gotten to something intimate like that with him was him involuntarily jutting his hips up into your ass when you were making out on the couch. You had hoped that he would continue to do that, especially with how you could feel his hardness pressing up against your core, but he got so flustered and started stammering out high-pitched apologies before moving away and retreating into the bathroom. You imagined that he probably took care of it, but knowing him, maybe he doesn’t jerk off.

You went with that assumption for a while since you — and especially him — hadn’t initiated anything potentially steamy. For him, makeout sessions were enough and although you wanted more, you were okay with indulging in him. You figured that with how touch starved he was, you should take it slow before moving on.

You got to leave work early, and you’re usually glad when that happens but today you’re especially happy because Spencer had just gotten back from a successful case a couple hours ago. When he landed, he immediately texted you, letting you know where he was. When you left your workplace, you had forgotten to text him that you’ll be home earlier than expected, but you’re sure that he wouldn’t mind.

After all, he’s probably just as excited to see you, if not more.

You don’t call out to him when you unlock and open the apartment door; he should hear that you’re home with the locking of the door and the tossing of the keys, as well as the rustle of your coat as you take it off and hang it up.

It’s quiet, but that isn’t really saying anything since it usually is. But you’d figured that he’d meet you at the doorway, which he didn’t.

Odd.

You’re just about to call out to him when you hear a peculiar and out-of-place sound: a moan.

Although it startles you a bit, you think that it was probably the neighbours; that doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense consdiering it’s coming from inside the apartment, but it’s more believable than…

Then you hear another one, and this time you can finally pinpoint its location. It sounds like it’s coming from the bedroom. Spencer? It’s not impossible, but you had just figured that he wouldn’t be the type to pleasure himself, especially with those sorts of reactions.

You slowly make your way towards the room in question, seeing that the door is slightly ajar, leaving a sliver for you to peer in.

What you find is a heavenly sight: Spencer, fully unclothed, splayed across the bed with his length in his fist. His pace is slow, but it’s still enough for him to whimper and moan quite audibly. His other hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets as his head pushes back against a pillow.

It’s perverted, but you feel as if you can’t tear yourself away from watching. At this point, you start to wonder if he knows you’re here or if he even heard you come into the apartment. You struggle to keep quiet as your panties grow damp, and you end up biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sight.

The sound of his fist moving up and down his leaking cock is lewd, his precum dribbling down and even slightly coating his hand.

“o-oh m-mommy—” Him saying that is your breaking point, and you push the door open and enter the room.

He finally notices you and he pulls the sheets he was just grasping onto for dear life up to cover his throbbing dick. You were expecting him to do that; although what he was just doing was insanely hot, he’s still shy, even around you.

He looks away from you, clearly embarrassed he was caught. “Uh, I was— I— ah…” he attempts to explain himself but it leads nowhere. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding defeated.

“Why are you sorry?” It’s not a needed question; you know exactly why he thinks so. You move to sit on the edge of the bed as he moves away, still having the sheets pulled up to cover himself. He stammers, but no words come out. He’s so flustered and red in his cheeks, you fear he’s about to pop.

He squirms in his position slightly while a tiny noise that you can barely hear escapes from his lips. A noise of discomfort, you recognize quickly, but you’re not sure if it’s because you just caught him in a private moment or if it’s because his cock is starting to get achy from the lack of stimulation.

“Baby,” you say in a more serious tone, leaning into the notion of his fantasy of you as his mommy, “why are you sorry?”

You stare at him, though you wish he could return your gaze. “Y-You probably feel…uncomfortable b-because—”

Softly, you shush him, holding a finger up against his lips, and you smile. “I’m not uncomfortable,” you assure him.

“You’re not?” he asks, his words vibrating against your index.

You shake your head as you pull your finger away from his lips, instead moving to grab his chin with a soft grip. His cheeks squish against your fingers softly, making his lips look even more plush and kissable. You push your lips against his gently, though it’s obvious that he’s eager from the way he pushes against your mouth to chase the kiss.

The way he whines when you pull away from him is so cute, you feel as if you want to give in to his need to have you closer to him. But he can tell that you want to do something else to satisfy him, so Spencer quiets down. Your hand, however, remains firmly yet softly gripping his jaw.

You look down at the sheets covering his lower half, his erection not-so-subtlety poking the thin fabric, and you glance back up at him. “Do you want me to…” you trail off before looking down at his boner again.

In all honesty, it takes Spencer a good second or two before he gets what you meant by that offer. “U-uh, well, ah…” he stutters. You’re not exactly sure what he wants and frankly neither is he. Based on his previous experiences with intimacy, you decide to not give him a blowjob, or even a handjob.

You both sit there in silence; you can practically cut the tension in the room with a knife. As you think of what to do — since you don’t just want to ignore it, nor do you want to leave him unsatisfied and awkward — Spencer squirms uncomfortably, shifting ever so slightly. His thighs accidentally clench together, squeezing his erection under the blanket, causing him to whimper softly. He silently hopes that you didn’t catch that noise he made, but you did…and it gave you an idea; one that will satisfy both of your urges.

“Do you wanna keep going?” You ask. He would probably much rather do this himself, although you don’t know how he would feel if he were to masturbate right in front of you.

He hesitates for a second, but he does nod shyly. You notice how he’s not meeting your gaze with his own, avoiding eye contact almost entirely. Instead, he’s looking in the direction of your waist.

Without informing him, you stand up and your hands quickly find their way to the buttons on your pants undoing them. Spencer watches with an air of anticipation and slight anxiety as you pull your pants down, a bit hastily and it definitely shows just how eager you are at this moment. Your underwear is certainly damp with how much this situation has you turned on and he can see it clearly too. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression as he sees the wetness, whether he’s nervous or intrigued, until you see him lick his lips — a motion that he only does when he’s excited.

At last, you peel off your soaked panties, but you keep your eyes on his face, wanting to see his reaction at seeing you half-naked. Sure, he’s seen you in your bra and panties before, but that was never sexual and only when you were changing clothes in front of him. He’s always looked away, the gentleman that he is, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek or two at your near-unclothed state. Just like how now, where he can see your bare pussy, glistening and wet, he just can’t resist staring.

He doesn’t mind it; no, not at all. In fact, it’s just making him even more excited, to the point where he slightly pulls down the sheets that are covering his dick — not enough to actually show his arousal, but enough to clearly see his happy trail, which has you salivating.

You get back on the bed, not bothering to take your shirt off as well. You just want to get started already, but you think it would be better if you know he’s comfortable with this whole situation first.

“Is this okay?” you ask, alluding to your nakedness as your thighs are slightly spread, giving him a nice view of your cunt.

He swallows and nods feverishly as his gaze continues to bore into your pussy; all of his attention seems to be focused there, which amuses you.

Deciding to take the initiative, your hand makes its way towards your core. You dip the tips of your fingers in your wet folds, collecting some of the slick and bringing it up to your clit, where you start to gently rub it in small and slow circles.

You hear Spencer’s breath hitch as you do this. It’s like you’re subtly encouraging him to do the same thing and start masturbating again, which is exactly what you’re going for.

He ends up pulling the covers off his pelvis completely, allowing you to see his cock-filled hand. You bite your lip at the sight of him starting to slowly stroke his length again, although timidly, as if he’s being judged. You’re not doing that, of course; you wouldn’t dare judge him for doing something so pleasing in front of you.

He keeps avoiding your gaze so you lean forward as you continue to massage your clit gently and you bring your other hand to tilt his head up by his chin to look at you. The eye contact you both have now is both awkward yet erotic. You’re not really doing anything with each other, you’re just two people touching themselves in front of the other.

A couple minutes into this shared experience, Spencer is starting to get more confident and less self-conscious. His strokes are getting longer and faster, making him produce more noises from his throat; mostly small whimpers with the occasional moan but by god, those small moans just get you going. You end up quickening your pace too and you let yourself make tiny whines too.

Eventually, your fingers move from your clit and back down to your folds, where you insert a finger into your cunt. The sound that falls from your lips after you do so is more motivation for Spencer to speed up again. You thrust your finger in and out at the same pace as his hand and you’re sure you both are imagining something more intimate at this point.

You add a second finger and then later on a third and now, a few minutes later, you’re both moving in sync and moaning up a storm. His moans are louder though, but you don’t mind at all. They just give you more reason to speed up and keep going.

Nearing the end, you’re wondering who’s going to cum first. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Spencer did so before you since he’s been jerking off for longer than you have but with the way the pleasure is building up in your stomach, you’re not entirely sure anymore; your mind is just focused on the intense pleasure and nothing else.

“O-oh god…” you hear him whine. Now you know who is going to finish first.

“You gonna cum, baby?” It takes you some effort to ask that question, especially since for the past ten or so minutes, you’ve just been touching yourselves without even talking.

“Mhm,” he hums in response as he nods. His hand is going at such a quick pace that you can clearly hear how his precum-coated palm is moving up and down his cock. “S’much, I…”

“It’s okay, honey,” you stammer out. Then, in your pleasure-fueled haze, an idea forms in your head. “You can cum. Cum for mommy~”

The use of that nickname for you really gets him going and he can no longer hold himself back. “M-mommy!” he cries out with a gasp for air as cum spurts out of the tip of his cock. He lets his head hang back and his eyelids flutter as his orgasm hits him and it’s beautiful for you to watch. It only motivates you to speed up even more, wanting to reach your peak as fast as possible. You probably shouldn’t rush it to savor the moment but in this case, rushing is fine to you.

After his intense orgasm, Spencer watches with bated breath as you cum. Your hips rock forward, practically riding your own fingers while your back arches and your murmurs grow incoherent. If he wasn’t tired, Spencer is pretty sure that he would be turned on again immediately just from watching you finger yourself. He is almost positive that you’re thinking of riding him instead of your fingers, and he would be correct in that assessment.

The pleasure slowly dissipates until you’re left with the incredibly awkward feeling of having just jerked off in front of your boyfriend. Both of you aren’t really sure what to say or what to do considering this was technically your first shared sexual experience since you had started dating.

“Um—” “So—” you both say at the same time. You don’t know how to move forward in a gracious manner, so you shyly get off the bed and put your underwear and pants back on. He still sits in the bedsheets, which are slightly damp from the sweat accumulated from the experience.

He moves towards the edge of the bed — towards you — and sits up straight, trying not to feel embarrassed that he’s still naked. And even though he felt uncomfortable about being touched while nude prior, he plants his lips on yours.

You weren’t expecting this but it’s a welcome surprise, as you chase his kiss with all the energy you have left; which isn’t a lot, but is enough. He breaks from the kiss, but leaves his forehead against yours as he looks at you like a dog.

“Thank you, mommy.”

hopefully it wasn’t that bad <3 join the taglist

#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ spencer ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid has a mommy kink #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler

[leclsrc]

do you want it? ✴︎ cs55

genre: summer love!!!, slight age gap, porn w plot basically...

word count: 10.5k  

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by several people! few notes... carlos is aged up a tad, the age gap is 21/33 so not too bad (i aged him up bc the age gap was 7 yrs and i was like. Huh. thats tame). if ur not into that (tho everything is consensual and reader is legal) its ok! anyway im sorry this came so late i had like 6 anons asking ab carlos and lana haha. also big thanks to dani whose work got me thru 4 writing ruts

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, semi public sex ish?, praise central, size kink, like a flash of spit kink sorry..., overuse of the term good girl

Half past noon and after a particularly snappy call from his manager, Carlos bites the bullet on summer plans and decides to accept what is arguably the least glamorous offer on his roster. By no means a dazzling standout, the offer to stay at a family friend’s house in Comporta seems to be the most comfortable option—besides, he doesn’t feel himself to be in the glitzy mood for cities like Los Angeles or Monaco.

Lando, beside him, is thus the first to get wind of the news that “grumpy old man” Carlos will not be accompanying him to the ultimate, tequila-flavored “summer extravaganza” in Morocco.

“You’re boring,” Lando moans, pacing the room. Outside, London’s skyline moves passively. Carlos hangs up his phone call with his assistant, receives a picture of his flight details, and looks up amusedly.

“Portugal is not boring.”

“Morocco. DJs, drinks, girls.” Lando raises one hand. “Comporta. Family friends, apple cider, sand in your eyes.” He raises another hand a few inches lower. “See the difference?”

“I appreciate the difference.” Truth is, Carlos has needed this kind of quiet, calm time off for a while now. The season gets heavy and intense and tiring, and sometimes just staying by the beach with a beer is the best kind of reprieve.

“You’re getting old,” Lando says with a sour grimace. “Old.”

“That is,” Carlos says, searching for the word, “defamation.”

Lando shrugs, moves off the subject as he shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Are you meeting family there?”

“No.” Both of his parents are out of the country for the next few weeks; Carlos was invited by his dad’s friend, though the bond they share is more friendly than just the standard uncle-nephew type of relationship, and they often refer to each other as just friends. “Just friends. Gallery owner and a company owner, I think.”

Lando whistles. “Rich.”

In response, Carlos nods. “And their daughter, who’s visiting from university in the States.” The details are fuzzy in his head, but the gist is about right.

“Sounds boring,” his friend snorts. “Come on, mate. You, me, Daniel. One last chance to watch Peggy Gou’s set and take shots and have fuuun.” He says the last part with the suave that would only rival a preteen’s.

Carlos, for a second, lets his resolve waver. Maybe it would be better watching loud DJ sets, dancing, getting all flushed with alcohol. But he blinks and shakes his head anyway. He hopes his decision is the right one, that summer in the beach house ends up being worth it. It’s a few weeks by the beach, anyway—what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Any recollection of your childhood almost instantly connects to the beach house in Comporta, big and wide and right by the coast. You spent fall, winter, and spring in a constant bumbling state of excitement to spend summer there. Your parents owned it, and often offered family friends to take up residence there when summers in the city got unbearable; for the most part, though, it was the three of you and, on rare years, a guest.

Your summers there have since smudged into the same few memories, of your mum and dad’s faces, of swimming and the learning curve of sailing, of bonfires by the beach on cold nights. And they have since become just that: memories. Summers grew sparse with time, and eventually the idea of meeting distant family friends became more embarrassing than exciting; by the time your parents moved you out of Europe for college, you’d lost almost all memory of the house.

So when your parents ask if you want to fly back to Comporta and spend a few “quiet” weeks there, you figure there’s no harm in seeing what the house is like and what summer can offer you beyond the weekly club outings. Instead of the usual quiet and overall lack-of-bustle that comes with summers, however, you open the front door to three housekeepers dusting every surface in your immediate eyesight.

“Are we hosting a wedding?” You ask when you find your parents tending to two sweaty glasses of champagne. You gesture faintly to the cleanfest inside. “What is going on?”

“We have a guest,” your mother says as she gets up to hug you tight. “Staying for the summer.”

“You said this summer would be quiet,” you deadpan, eyes narrowing underneath your sunglasses.

Your mum pinches your elbow. “I wasn’t lying,” she defends, raising her eyebrows. “Carlos’ son is coming.” She pats your arm. “You know? The race driver! He’s close with your father.” And, leaving no space for you to voice your dissent, she slips back into the house through the screen door, your father kissing your cheek then following suit. Your mouth parts, thoughts beginning to rush with implications of what your mother has just told you.

Carlos—if you’re correct—is Carlos Sainz, Sr., a good friend of your dad’s, and his son is Carlos Sainz, Jr., another good friend of your dad’s, because if there’s one thing rich Europeans do well, it’s the repetition of names. You’ve never met his son, only heard of him and seen a few pictures, but being so far detached from life here, you can’t even shape his face.

All you recall is the fact that he should now be thirty or older, which makes him rather older than you—and therefore effectively incapable of providing any break from any possible summer boredom. For fuck’s sake, he’s close to your dad. You’re at the top of the stairs when you hear the commotion by the front door, peeking at the foyer to catch a glimpse of him.

He’s solo, you observe; upon a glance into the front parking, you notice he’s driven here in a Ferrari, one a bit too modern for your taste but beautiful nevertheless. He carries only two pieces of luggage, and the sun blinds you for a moment before he’s finally at the doorframe, smiling politely, talking to your dad in casual Spanish.

He is, for lack of better word, insanely handsome. He wears a polo that shows off much of his arms, that flex as he puts down his luggage to shake hands with your parents; you follow the movement of his hands to watch one comb through his thick hair, then down to his smile, back up to his brown eyes, deep and so, so pretty.

Maybe this summer deserves a little less begrudge, you decide as you retreat back into your room, still brewing with residual annoyance.

Your parents send him off after a drink and a brief conversation, catch-up, tour of the downstairs area. Carlos knows his room is supposed to be upstairs, but the problem arises in the fact that there are two upstairs rooms and he doesn’t know which one he’s supposed to be staying in. Setting his luggage down for a minute, he knocks on the first door; permissive silence greets him for half a minute, so he turns the knob and prepares to enter.

To his surprise, he finds somebody already inside, a figure by the mirror on the other end of the room. What catches his eye is not the tiny skirt, but the half-tied bikini top currently being wound around two fingers at the centre of your back. You’re basically clothed, but Carlos can’t decide if he’s thankful or not—he doesn’t have time to when you catch him in the mirror and turn around quick, mouth agape.

“Can’t you knock?!” You ask, catty.

“I did—I knocked, but you—there was no answer,” he explains profusely. “I’m Carlos. Sorry, apologies. Truly.”

You introduce yourself. You’re his friend’s daughter, this and that, and you’re visiting from the States to spend summer here. He apologizes again when you finish. 

“Well, seeing as though this is my room,” you shoot back, “that must be yours.” You gesture vaguely to the one down the hall. Amused and a little embarrassed, he mouths apologies as he closes the door.

Carlos exits, departs and doesn’t have time to take in the room before he’s facedown on the bed. Any sleepiness he’d collected from the trip over, from the day drinks, from the headache that’d been blooming at the temples of his head, has dissipated. His mind’s been imprinted with one image only, and it’s down the hall in a tiny skirt.

—

Lunch brings lemonade and pasta, two staples for every summer meal. You, however, find yourself hopelessly distracted by the presence of your guest, and despite your best efforts, the churn in your stomach disables you from fully enjoying the carbonara on the table. The conversation between Carlos and your dad ends up taking your attention instead. “So you’re racing again in a few weeks?”

“Sí,” Carlos nods in-between forkfuls. Then, to add, “Busy, busy times.”

“Well. It’s the worst of our days,” your mum says, a quote she picked up from—of all places—a BBC sitcom she watched to tears last winter. “You are a talented driver, Carlos. Very cultured. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Comporta.”

“I have not been around much,” he says; his gaze flutters over to his glass, which is devoid of water or lemonade. “Any recommendations?”

“A lot, cabrón. Our daughter will be happy to take you around,” your father says on your behalf. He turns to you. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, allowing a terse smile. “There’s some places around here that aren’t so boring. But that’s being generous.” Carlos laughs at your joke, raucous and goofy, and you would definitely be lying if you told yourself it didn’t get you blushing a little bit, eyes casting themselves to your still-full plate.

“While you’re here, Carlos,” your dad continues, “I have an old car in the garage that could use some looking at. Are you—would you know how to—?”

Carlos nods, accepting the favor—then the conversation naturally slides into one of cars and racing. Carlos chronicles his journey in Formula One, his Toro Rosso days back then when he was younger, his McLaren period, and now, his time representing Ferrari. He talks of pet peeves on the grid, annoyances but also praises for the sport.

“I’d appreciate the downtime, actually,” he explains, “that I’d get from working on a car instead of in one.” He laughs, eyes briefly meeting yours. He looks away, then looks again. He can’t help himself. He wonders if he’s being obvious, if you can tell the way his looks are anything but casual. “Can you pour me a glass?” He adds.

“Yeah,” you mutter, sitting straight to pour lemonade into his waiting glass. You meet his eyes and almost pour it over the pasta. The rest of the lunch is uneventful, a series of adult conversation you can’t seem to engage yourself in fully, and whether that’s because of personal preference or Carlos’ presence, you don’t make an effort to try.

“…ney. Honey.” Your mum’s voice distracts you from your thoughts; when you look up, half the table is clear and Carlos and your dad have ventured inside to deposit plates at the sink. 

“Sorry. Wh—sorry, what?” You blink.

“Your father and I are heading out for the evening. Carlos will be working on the car. That okay, or you want to come along?”

“Um…” You pretend the latter is even an option before shaking your head. “No, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” She strokes your hair. “He could use the company.”

You follow her walking figure inside, where you station your eyes on Carlos. He’s sipping a lemonade. His eyes meet yours for a second and your face is outrageously flushed when you realize you’ve been caught staring, just like his had been earlier when he walked into your room.

—

You’re hellbent on solving a Sudoku puzzle when the dinner bell rings, and you have to finish it on the stairs. Your dad’s always been a stickler for arriving to dinner on time—every meal, but a gargantuan emphasis on the last—and you’ve been victim to scoldings about being five to six minutes late, an instance you don't wish to repeat.

9, you scribble, bare feet moving with speed through the living room, indoor dining room, then to the patio door. 4 comes next, your footsteps following the smell of grilled meat. 8, you write as you turn into the outdoor dining area. You’re halfway through 2 when you stop, look up, and find Carlos preparing dinner.

“Oh—” You pause. “You rang the dinner bell? Are my parents not…?”

“They are at a dinner,” says Carlos, eyes meeting yours briefly. It reminds you of earlier and you clear your throat, looking away. “So I hope my cooking is good enough.”

“It smells great,” you offer, seating yourself down and pouring a glass of wine. He sets the plate down—just-cut steak, a smear of potatoes. “Christ, you cook better than Dad.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he laughs, sitting across you. “Listen, I want to apologize for accidentally walking into your room earlier.”

Your face warms. “No, it’s okay. I was just surprised.”

“It was wrong of me. Let’s start over. I’m Carlos.” He reaches over to shake your hand, still standing. You take it, eyes flitting over his hand, spotting no glinting ring on his finger. With a saccharine smile, you assure him it was an honest mistake, so he segues into a different topic, the corners of his mouth turning up. “So, do you have an itinerary for me tomorrow?”

You hum, passing the wine over to him. “A bookstore, an ice cream parlor, and a bike ride. Anything else is seriously not worth it. You’ll have the next few weeks to explore town. If the house gets that boring.”

“I haven’t been bored so far,” he says, eyes glinting.

“Oh?”

“You know, with the car fixing.” He points vaguely to where the garage is. “But it’s only been a day.”

“Car fixing is boring,” you state matter-of-factly. “You’ll have fun tomorrow.” You cut into the steak and bite into the forkful you stab at, eyes fluttering.

“Good?” Carlos asks, smiling a little.

“I love it,” you mumble. “You’re so good at this, Carlos.”

Carlos retires to his room that night, and finds that today has held a collective motif of losing his shit. He’s anything but sleepy. Restless, wild-eyed, combing hand after hand through his hair. God, if he’d known you were this pretty—this hard to resist, on his first night here, no less—he would’ve been watching some DJ spin out a set with Lando right now.

Instead, he finds he can’t stop himself from thinking about you, the way your eyes had fluttered when he tried saying something on the edge of flirty. Your hair. Your hands, your fingers, lithe around the stem of your wine glass.

I love it, you’d said, you’re so good at this, Carlos. You knew exactly what you were doing, skittish tone putting him on edge. Despite himself, he can’t help but squeeze himself through his pants when he sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing heavy to purge himself of thoughts so low and dirty.

You’re so pretty. You’d be so easy to wreck, make his, goad little moans out of you, get your lips around him, puffy and pink and pretty. He wedges his eyes shut tight and hopes these thoughts will dissipate as the week passes.

Something tells him he’s wrong, though.

—

The tour is delayed because your dad insists he go fishing with Carlos three days in a row, but eventually (likely due to your mum’s insistence) it pushes through. You greet him with a smile, waiting by the door, wearing a sundress. Sundresses will definitely be his demise.

You’re a good tour guide, though, Carlos figures when you’re finished pointing at every turn and sign and dictating what goes where and where the passage to the coast is, when you’ve even quizzed him about where you are and where the house is supposed to be.

After he points in the correct direction, you nod approvingly. “That’s how my dad made sure I wouldn’t get lost,” you explain when he laughs at your choice of tour guidance. 

“And you were what—twelve?” He asks, walking beside you. It’s fairly empty in town, a few tourists mulling about carrying shopping bags and plastic cups of juice.

“Try fourteen,” you argue. 

“Well, quizzing a, uh—a fourteen-year-old is really not the same as quizzing a grown adult.”

“Ha. Call me when you can’t find your way home tonight,” you diss sarcastically, making a turn toward the bookstore down the street. “Okay, here we are. Don’t get too excited. They’re just books.”

For a relatively empty town, the bookstore always has new batches of titles, displayed proudly for natives and tourists alike front and centre. But you’re already going to the right side of the store, busying yourself with looking at the signs. 

“The classics shelf is always my favorite,” you say, already walking ahead of him. Your dress bobs softly with your legs as you pace, short and sweet and white. You turn and his eyes slide back up instantly, and he hopes he was quick enough. “Do you have any authors you like?”

“I am not a big reader. You?”

“Huge,” you say, smiling a little. “Okay, we can browse. Are you into any genre…?”

Carlos proceeds to tell you his track record in the literary field includes: reading half the Harry Potter series, a car manual, and a few other titles in Spanish he cannot recall the name or plot of. But, he adds, he’s always wanted to read, found the activity so quiet and still and perfect, so he allows you to lead him through the titles stacked on each table and condensed on each shelf. He points at, sometimes, or picks up covers he finds appealing.

“How about—?” He reaches for a pink cover that reads It Ends With Us, but your hand loops around his wrist before he can pick it up and you’re pulling him into another aisle.

“…Not that.” You continue perusing the books around you, your hand still wrapped around his. With your free finger, you point at the top shelf, and tiptoe against the bookcase to try and get it. You come close, but not close enough.

Carlos, behind you, is successful, not even needing to tiptoe to reach for the red hardbound you’d been pointing at. It also means he’s pressed up against you, heavy and big, and the sensation dizzies you. When he finally pulls it off, you turn to him and find respite in the proximity—you two are so close, every exhale out of your lips causes a puff of air to blow against his hair.

He steps backward. You smile and gesture toward the book he’s holding. “That’s a good one.”

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez.” He reads out the author’s name in one fluid sentence, his Spanish accent becoming naturally more obvious.

“Okay, colonizer.” He knits his brows. “Trust me,” you insist. “One Hundred Years of Solitude—so good. It was one of the first books I read front to back twice in a row.”

“Wow, what an honor,” he teases sarcastically as you move along the aisle, fingertips brushing against the indents of the books. You turn to narrow your eyes and stick your tongue out. Unfortunately for Carlos, the effect this inflicts upon him is not oh she mocked me, but oh how would it look if—

He needs ice cream. Or to just get out of this aisle.

—

You punctuate the day with two cones of it, melting way too fast in the heat of summer. He’s already half-finished with his vanilla, and you’re taking your time with the lemon sorbet you’d gotten for yourself. Apparently, this is the only other highlight the town has to offer, and judging by the fact that most of the other stores are expensive clothes, souvenir shops, and a Bible bookstore—yeah.

Carlos is also more than sated with the three books in the paper bag he’s holding. Scratch that—six books, you bought a haul for yourself—but it’s not a particularly heavy load, so he’s fine. His phone has been buzzing with Lando’s update requests that he’s been deliberately ignoring.

“They make the best ice cream,” you rave, smiling. You lick over the melt on your lips. “Right?”

He might actually drop his cone now. “It is delicious.”

“Well…” You look around, your hair flying with every turn of your head. Lick over lips again. Again, and again. He has to look away.

“…Do you wanna stop by anywhere else?” You turn to him and ask, licking over the tip of your ice cream cone.

It’s hard for Carlos to pretend he’s looking around your surroundings, at the signs and storefronts, and not at your sticky lips, your pink tongue just peeking out to lap at the quickly melting gelato around your hand. His eyes flit downward, to where the hem of your tiny white dress has flown up in the coastal wind, exposing more of your thighs.

“Carlos?” You repeat, voice sweet and waiting.

He snaps his eyes back up and wills his voice to remain passive. “We can head back.”

So you do, meaning your tour ends around noon, and your parents greet you both with lunch and the round of inevitable questions. Did Comporta live up to your expectations? What books did you get? Was our daughter a good tour guide? The latter, Carlos answers with a smile—very good. You allowed your face to flush, blamed it on the sangria.

Now, though, it’s the brink in-between chilly and hot, sticky traces of the summer afternoon still lingering in the air, mixing with the cool of dusk when you decide to exit your room and fix yourself a glass of something, preferably sweet and alcoholic. An empty driveway save for a Ferrari means your parents are gone, leaving you and—if you’re lucky, which you hope you are—

“Carlos,” you call out from the window you’ve just tugged open with the expertise of somebody who’s lived here for twenty-one summers. “Thirsty?”

He looks up from where he is, outside, continuing his operation on your dad’s car. The hood’s been cranked open, and his long hair is damp with sweat, flying gently in the face of the sunset breeze. He smiles when he sees your figure peeking out.

“For what?”

“Whatever you want,” you respond, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. His white shirt’s stained with oil and dirt, tainting it beige and grey, the tight fit even tighter from his sweat. You can make out the outline of his abs just underneath. 

He squints. “Beer?”

You make an exaggerated eugh face to tease him, but duck back inside to bring your homemade aperol and an open, frosty beer outside. When he sees you, he walks closer, smiles and takes a swig of the drink you offer. He makes a noise of satisfaction and you have to make a real effort to maintain a semblance of normalcy, eyes averting from his lips to gaze instead at his solid shoulders, his build, big and tall.

“What’s the problem with beer, hmm?”

“Tastes like shit.” You raise your aperol. “The sweeter, the better. How’s Dad’s car?” You blink, sidestepping him to try and gauge his progress.

“Casi termino.” You look at him, raising your eyebrows, and he translates. “Almost done. It wasn’t that destroyed, if at all.”

“You think he’ll let you drive it when you’re done?” You ask playfully, swiping your condensation-wet finger over the side of the car. You turn, smiling expectantly; Carlos laughs a bit, shrugs.

“It is just a favor. But if he does, I’ll make sure you get to come along.” He says. “You like that?”

“Mmm,” you nod, sipping on your aperol. You part from your straw, lips stained, and smile up at him. “I do.”

His gaze is stuck on your lips. You lick over them, and he looks away with a slow blink. You watch as he ruffles his hair, rounds the car and crosses his arms to view it from the back.

God, he’s handsome. You think of the long-winded nights you’ve been spending trailing your fingers over your legs or texting inspired paragraphs to friends back in university about him. Their responses are almost always Send pic now and a cacophony of heart eye emojis when you manage to snag a stolen shot of him doing just about anything.

His gaze is scrutinizing, every little detail of the car, and eventually he closes the hood again. “Should be good by tomorrow.”

“Where’d you learn to fix cars?” You ask sweetly, nearing him. The wind bites at your legs, your flowy skirt bouncing sporadically and held down by your free hand. When your eyes flit to his, waiting for his response, you find them snapping upward. He’d been distracted.

“I work with cars, so it comes natural.” You lean on the hood of the car and he comes to stand in front of you, his eyes pointed downward at you. “That’s not a very good habit,” he adds.

“Drinking?” You pout, raising your half-empty glass. You blink up at him, the corner of your smiling lip caught in your teeth.

“Biting your lip.” His gaze is intense. “You do it a lot, I noticed.”

You smile, leaning backward a little. His resolve is breaking. “Can I borrow one of the books you got earlier?”

“The three ones you bought not enough?” He raises a brow, downing beer again. Some of it dribbles out of the corner of his lip. You’ve never been one to like the taste, but you’d lick it off him if you could.

“I just wanna browse it,” you push. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

—

He sees you the next day after lunch, which you’d skipped because you “weren’t hungry.” You’re wearing a dress, hair clipped into a bun when you excuse yourself to pick up an earring in front of him. He almost thinks it’s a fib until he sees it, the pink gem on the floor.

“Sorry,” you say, voice mellow, and then you’re bending over to pick it up. You’re wearing pretty lace panties underneath.

Carlos clears his throat and excuses himself, adjusting his shorts as he goes upstairs.

—

He gives you Norweigan Wood after dinner, like he promised earlier in the week. Two raps on your door, and when you open it, he’s already handing it to you with a quiet smile. “Goodnight,” he says, his voice clipped.

“Our tour isn’t over yet,” you tease, tossing the book onto your bed and descending the steps back downstairs. Confused and interested, he follows you, to the back area of the house, past the swinging screen door, down the steps, and onto the sand.

“Tour?” He repeats, for clarification. The only things to tour are sand and twigs.

“Yeah, Carlos. This is the real tour,” you joke, walking backwards. Every step sends your foot sinking into the cold sand, slowing your pace until Carlos catches up, matching your steps once he does. “Comporta—real and unfiltered.” You both laugh at your hyperbolic, MTV-worthy statement, and he waits for more, entertains you further.

“What is so real about this?” Carlos laughs, allowing himself to humor your little schtick.

“Well, mister. This isn’t bookstores and ice cream parlors.” You point to a nearby spot in the sand, just by a rogue stick. “This is where I smoke without getting caught. Near enough that I can run back in seconds, but faraway enough that my parents can’t immediately see what I’m doing. Granted, I don’t need to be sneaking around much, but if you ever want to do something in secret—”

The implication sends Carlos into a spiral of thought.

“—here’s your spot.”

“So you smoke,” he says when he sits himself on the sand, observing the now-dark skyline of the area. You continue pacing around a little, and when you raise your arms up to stretch, he catches a glimpse of your abdomen, the waistband of pink lace underneath the low rise of your denim shorts.

“Occasionally. Don’t play Holy Mary,” you warn, standing in front of him and stretching your hand out to reveal a box of Marlboro Reds. 

“Wasn’t planning to,” he responds, taking a stick and inserting it in between his lips. “Got a light?”

“No,” you tease, taking one for yourself and sliding your lighter out from your pocket in one quick motion. The flame illuminates your face, casts a light on your thin white tee and on the bikini top you have on underneath. You puff out a small cloud of smoke, and Carlos reaches up to take the lighter.

“I said no,” you giggle, your lips knotting into a pout. You hold the lighter just out of his reach, red and bold against the bleak evening. 

“Give it.” He sits up higher, reaches harder; he almost gets it, but you step backward and raise your arm out of reach. Again your shirt rises with the movement. The view he gets, this time, of your hips, the lace that hugs the area there, is much more close.  The laugh you emit sends a cloud of smoke out.

“No, no,” you continue, laughing, a sweet sound.

Carlos gets up, tries again to lunge for the lighter. At this point he doesn’t even care about the cigarette in between his lips, just wants to entertain you. He tries again but you’re quick with it, ducking every lunge just in time.

“Come on,” he goads, laughing himself. You pace backward, smoking, until your ankles hit the shallow shore water, water that goes deeper and deeper until you’re knee-level, still smiling at him mischievously. 

“Fine,” you relent, shrugging. You throw your hands up in surrender, in the process taking the stick out of your mouth to blow smoke out. “Do you want it? C’mere, then.” You beckon him closer, wave the lighter tantalizingly so he steps closer, closer, until you’re holding the flame to the cigarette between his lips.

He’s so tall, he has to bend a little to let you light it, his eyes meeting yours, illuminated by the pale moon and the orange of the flame.

It all goes to plan. Once you light it, you place two hands square on his shoulders, whirl him so he’s behind you and thus even deeper in the water, and with all your might, push him into the sea. 

“Brat—” he manages to gasp out as he goes, the word leaving his lips in the first and last puff of smoke he lets out. He surfaces, every dip and ridge of his abs and chest accentuated, his linen polo near invisible with how saturated it is with water. His long hair, too, sticks to his forehead; he combs it backward, reveals his amused-irritated eyes, the dead cigarette spouting seawater and ash.

He spits it out. You stare and pinch the soggy stick in between two fingers, stuffing the trash into his chest pocket. “That’s bad for the environment.”

“I am freezing,” he says in response, but you’re just stifling a laugh.

He narrows his eyes, and with unsurprising ease given his build, picks you up and carries you over his shoulder. You barely have time to protest, almost dropping your own cigarette into the water, kicking and pounding on his back to please put me down. You can feel the water getting deep, deeper, and when he finally dunks you in, it’s only a second of dryness before you’re submerged in the chilly water.

Your cigarette dies, and you manage to collect it, because you’re not in the interest of leaving your stick floating; you wedge it into your pocket.

“You’re such”—you gasp for air—“a dick!”

You’re smiling, though, flailing your legs to stay afloat. Carlos can’t help but stare, entranced with the way your eyelashes stick together, damp, the droplets of water on your cheeks, your two hands wringing saltwater out of your hair, and when you swim upward, the way your white tee leaves nothing to his imagination.

You can tell. He can tell you can tell—because the next thing you do, with some faux exaggerated sigh of annoyance, is say, “Can’t swim, too heavy,” and you’re taking off your shirt so all he sees is the red of your bikini top underneath. The white tee bobs softly with each passing wave, and you’re smiling up at him. Checkmate, you’re saying. I’ve got you. A skittish, playful smile on your lips.

“I can help you swim,” he offers—retaliates, more like, his height offering him great advantage. He finds your bare ankle underwater, guides it to wrap around his waist. Naturally, your other leg follows until you’re flush against him, held up by him so you don’t need to wag your legs around just to stay above water.

Your hands go on his still-clothed shoulders first, then eventually around them, fingers linking at the nape of his neck. Your smile is wicked. You’re so sinfully pretty. He wades deeper, holds you all the while, two big hands on either side of your waist, thumbs rubbing over your sides so you can shiver.

“‘M so wet,” you say, voice shaky with chill and laughter. His grip tightens and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to try and pretend you didn’t just say that.

He dips you underneath the surface to surprise you, and your shriek is cut off by the water—he pulls you up quick, laughing, but underestimates his strength because as he tugs, you barrel right onto him, forehead bumping his.

Your eyes are closed, and you momentarily detach from him to wipe salt out of them. “Ass.”

“Brat,” he responds.

You open your eyes to find he’s close, so close you could just lean forward an inch—an inch—and you’d be meeting his lips. You wonder how they feel, how he kisses. He’s confident everywhere else, would he kiss you like that, too? You lean closer, a wrecked gasp escaping you.

“You’re so pretty,” you say, and it’s supposed to be teasing, but your breathy voice is genuine, honest. A thumb swipes over his eyelashes, causing him to blink, then the bridge of his nose. He leans upward, tries to catch your lips, but pauses, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

“This is wrong,” he says in a quiet breath, making no move at all you stop either of you from kissing right now.

You want—need—to kiss him, but you can play the long game if he wishes to. Your eyes flit back up to his, dark brown and reflecting the moon.

“Then let’s head back,” you suggest, even if both of you want anything but.

Long game. He guides you back to shore, picks your tee up, uses it as a sieve for any loose ash and cigarette bits in your path back to shore, even finds your red lighter that’s now dispensing water. He apologizes for not having anything to dry you with, and drops you off at your room with a puddle in both of your wakes.

“Thank you again,” he says, his voice a whisper through your ajar door. He observes your room with what little vantage point he has. The posters on the wall, the art, postcards. The laptop on the bed, open. The phone charging on the nightstand. The thong hanging out of the hamper.

“No problem,” you say back, voice saccharine. Your hand wraps around his wrist. “See you tomorrow.”

Even if you’re doused in seawater, he can still smell the traces of your perfume, the summery sweet of it, when you close the door. He stays for a second, blinks, relishes in the hint of floral.

—

You spend three days walking on eggshells around each other, testing the limits of interaction.

Your night at the beach was risky, dangerous, thrilling—but it was fun, sending you both into antsy, restless trains of thought. Carlos self-medicates with coffee, beer in the afternoon, working on your dad’s car, and the first two hundred pages of the Marquez book you insisted he pick up. He spots you sometimes, lounging on the beach with his book in your grip, the waistline of your bikini bottoms leaving a tanline he can’t stop staring at when you walk back into the house.

But he can’t act on it—he was the one who labeled it wrong, the one who suppressed himself, held the urge back. He told you it was wrong. And it is wrong. He’s older, he should be wiser; he’s close with your dad; and a cacophony of other rational reasons he shouldn’t be playing into this skittish summer crush.

“Dad said the boat’s free,” a voice says, and he looks up from his book to find you standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a skirt, loose and riding low on your hips. Your lips stretch into a sweet smile. “Wanna come?”

He really shouldn’t. “Sí.”

So he goes. He’s thirty-five. That’s a grown age. If anything, he’s capable of making sure he stays responsible. He dog-ears his page and picks up his beer to follow you to where the boat is docked. He’d been on your dad’s yacht earlier in his trip here, to go fishing, but it’s quieter today, bobbing softly atop the water. You lie yourself down on the sunny side of the boat, sunglasses over your eyes.

“Stay anywhere you like,” you say charmingly. It’s silent for a while, Carlos seating himself on one of the lounge seats in the shaded area, and then you’re moving around on your towel.

You peer over your lenses, blinking and sitting up, and this is when he knows he can’t do it.

“Carlos,” you call out. “Can you put sunscreen on my back?” You get up again, rifling in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen, dragging a hand through your hair to comb it out. It falls in loose waves, swishing when you turn to hand him the bottle. He pretends he’d been distracted on page 210 when he accepts it, watching as you sit in front of the seat, your back turned to him, your little figure in-between his spread legs. 

A minute passes with no hand at your back. “Go ahead, move even slower,” you joke, and the tension breaks a little; he humors you, laughs and apologizes.

“It’s because hour hair is in the way,” he says, touching it gently, combing it to the side.

“Wait—” You dig through your bag again and pull out a blunt pink ribbon, slipping it into his hand. “Can you braid it for me?”

“Braid?” He doesn’t know jack shit about braiding hair. “I don’t know how.”

“At that age of yours and you don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” you whistle lowly. “Adult virgin?” 

But you guide him through it despite your teasing, teaching him to divide your hair in threes, weaving one strand over the other until “it looks half decent.” He fucks up a few times and your hair looks odd at some point, but in the end, it’s—well, it’s a braid.

“How is it?” You ask, and he can hear your smile.

He does the job well enough for a first-timer, he thinks, finishing it with the ribbon, which he ties loosely lest you’re unhappy with the finished product. It becomes easier to move your hair out of the way, and once your back is saturated with sunscreen, you unfold your legs and get up, turning around and smiling down at his sitting figure.. Loose tendrils of hair frame your face, the braid resting at your back softly, already loosening.

“Your hair can be braided, too,” you comment quietly, knotting a rogue few strands in your fingers. It hasn’t been this tense since that night at the beach, but that ended before the tension rose further—this, now, keeps going. You step closer and he leans back, smiling. “Can I?”

He blinks, nostrils flaring, then nods, his grip on your hips gentle when you sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his. You smile coquettishly, feeling how hard he is underneath you, the denim of his jeans rough against the skin of your bare thighs. Your skirt’s riding up on them with every little shift you make, just to rile him up.

Carlos drinks in the sight of you, sunkissed and on his lap, legs sprawled out, pretty little face framed, bottom lip in your teeth. You’re inviting him closer, your gaze meeting his with sleepy, demure eyes—do something. You look so fucking precious, so pretty. It makes him want to give you everything right now.

You reach forward, make an attempt to try and weave his hair together—but he grinds upward, your breath hitching and a whimper punched out of your mouth.

Your hands are shaking now, barely able to piece his hair together with how good his clothed cock feels pressed against you, where you need it most. 

“Carlos,” you gasp, and all he can really think is—where’d all your fight go? You were so used to being a brat and a half, now you’re whimpering, on the edge of begging.

“Be quiet,” Carlos grunts, digging his fingers into your hips. His other hand lifts your skirt, bunching the fabric around your hips for a better view of your cunt rubbing against the bulge in his pants. The damp fabric of your panties is swallowed between your lips with every grind you make forward and he has to stop himself from cursing out loud at the sight. “Good girl.”

Your hands move from his hair to his shoulders, sturdy and broad; you can feel him squeeze your waist with both hands, then pull you down against him, just once, so your weight presses down on the hard shape of his cock. It makes him shudder and you whine out loud. You resist the urge to grind over it; you’re already so wet you’re making a mess on his jeans.

His praise, mumbled deep and slow in your ear, gets you feeling all warm, almost ditzy. Your hips roll on their own, chasing the delicious drag of rough denim against your clit, slick soaks into and through your panties, making the material cling to the shape your folds. Carlos’ hands are rough when they wander and grope, hiking this godforsaken skirt up so he can press a thumb against the centre of your folds.

“Been so good for you, Carlos,” you whine, circling your hips against him. He can’t stop staring at your pretty, fucked-out eyes, your bitten lips. He shoves two fingers in-between them, imagines how they looked just a few days ago slick with ice cream—now your tongue is laving over his hand. The braid you'd just taught him is quickly unraveling with every nod of your head. “‘M gonna—can I—” The pleas leave you quick, your voice choked.

Euphoric, your mind lifts, foggy and saturated with pleasure, the braid almost completely undone now. His praise is so addictive, gets you worked up and needy. Come on, he says. Make a mess. His accent, his deep voice, the way it rumbles right through you—his voice drops, his touch a little heavier as he presses harder.

You gonna cum for me? His thumb rubs faster until you’re gasping, shuddering, little ahs leaving your lips. He’s got the upper hand now, but you can hear the strain, the suppression in his voice as he rubs over the soaked fabric; you feel his cock growing under you, getting harder. 

P—please—I want to—please let me, you say breathlessly, and you’ve never needed it to the point of begging before, but Carlos is different. He keeps going, doesn’t give you permission, rubbing faster, your heart hammering in your chest.

Feel good?

Y—yeah, you whimper, trying your best not to fall apart here, on your dad’s boat, where anybody could walk on—or maybe see you from afar, humping your dad’s friend in broad daylight. He loves watching you like this; you’ve somehow become even prettier, face flushed and voice shaky.

Come on, he goads. Be a good girl. Cum for me.

It’s the only instruction that matters to you right now, your body seizing with it and cute little moans escaping you as you finish. You catch your breath against his chest, craving warmth even if it’s hot—maybe you’re craving him, his touch, Carlos, just Carlos. You maneuver yourself so legs, exhausted from shaking, are on one side of his body—he holds you close, humming.

He rubs a steady hand across your lower back, gentle and firm and you want him so much more now. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Talk to me.”

“Perfect,” you pant against his polo, fingers playing with the stitching, tugging the collar down so you can mouth at his skin. His hand plays with what’s left of the braid, winds the pink ribbon around his fingers. “Let’s go for a swim.”

—

“And we drove the jet ski around, too,” you say gleefully, your damp hair bobbing with every move of your head. Your face is sunkissed, a little sore from being in the sun for most of the afternoon. Carlos laughs along from where he is at the grill—he’s cooking for dinner, on a quest to make burgers because he’s known for making the best ones back in Madrid, apparently. Your dad, of course, insists on joining, and the two have been asking and answering questions while you and your mum sip rosé at the table.

“Did you have fun?” Your mum asks, her head turning to address Carlos.

“Yeah, tons,” he replies with a smile, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second. You know what he means. It’s been only two days since the afternoon on the boat, and since then you’ve mostly swam and ridden around on the jet ski with Carlos—nothing more.

“See, sweetie,” she adds, placing a hand over yours. “I told you this summer would be fun with him around!”

“Mmm, yeah,” you say, nodding and parting from your glass, “I can really count on him for some excitement.” The statement catches his attention and he almost trails off, eyes returning to yours, before he continues speaking in Spanish to your dad about something or other.

The burgers’ reputation precedes them, and is warranted, you learn later when you’re biting into it for the first time. The remainder of dinner passes by in lively conversation, the sun setting low underneath the Comporta horizon, wine taking the place of rosé. Carlos mentions the racing world again, about how he’ll be back into the thick of it sooner than later, and you pulse with something akin to sadness.

Your parents, apparently so grateful for the blessing that is Carlos’ burgers, offer to clean up and before long, they retreat to their downstairs bedroom. Upstairs, you marinate in your thoughts, blinking up at your ceiling, twining your pink ribbon around your fingers as your hair dries splayed over your bedding. You let your arm down, in the process bumping your elbow against a hard surface.

Upon investigation, you find it’s a copy of Norweigan Wood. 

Carlos is at his desk, taking a timezone-separated call about simulation and season prep, when two soft knocks go at his door and it creaks open. He turns the chair away from the desk to see who it is. An ankle steps in first, then more leg, and then you—in a lovely, pretty pink lace dress, your face illuminated by the moonlight outside. One hand clutches a copy of his book; the other, the ribbon he’d used on your hair earlier.

He’s nursing a bottle of beer, just to help ease the drag of the day, and he watches you approach him, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood of the floor. Wait, he mouths, finishing the call in a hushed tone, and when he hangs up you approach him again.

“I thought you should have this back,” you say, offering him the book. Your eyes rake over him, wearing the same getup he’d worn to dinner—denim jeans, because he’d ducked out to buy food, except he’s ridden himself of his shirt. 

He takes the book, places it on the table, continues staring up at you. “And I thought you should keep this.” The ribbon, pale pink, is now looped around his wrist and tied into a delicate ribbon at the apex of it. You admire your handiwork with a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

You lean down, face just shy of his. “We shouldn’t,” he manages to eke out, his voice strained.

“But you want to,” you respond softly. “No one’s going to know. Our little secret.”

His eyes are shut, contemplating, and then he’s kissing you—the only thing you’ve wanted, craved, touched yourself to the thought of over the course of the summer. You reciprocate immediately, parting your lips to let him kiss you deeper, a whimper leaving your mouth. He kisses like he knows he’s a good kisser, and he really is. His scent is intoxicating, a drug, sending arousal and desire straight through you.

You part, eyes half-lidded as you stand straight again. You cock your head slowly to the side, and with your head’s movement your hair follows, gathering on one side. It exposes much of your shoulder and collarbones, which lay underneath the thin lace dress you wear to sleep, and which is now subject to Carlos' unwavering stare. He has no shame, eyes raking over you, up and down and back up. One hand curled around a bottle of beer, the other coming up to slowly graze the back of your thigh.

Your breath hitches. “Do you like the dress?” You ask softly, teasingly. It’s nothing special, Carlos, you seem to say; it’s just a nightie.

His hand is rough against the thin skin of your leg, traveling upward. He gives you a nod in response; he does like it, the sheer material, the pink color, the loose way it hugs your body. Roughly, he voices his assent. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Wait,” you say, pouting. Your knee rubs softly against the material of his jeans, and you slowly sink onto your knees, hands placing themselves on your thighs. His grip goes from the back of your thigh to your hair, combing it softly, cradling your face. 

“Let me,” you say, letting your silence imply everything unsaid. He’s going crazy, losing his mind.

“So pretty,” he says, nodding. his voice thin. “Go ahead, baby.”

The petname gets you dizzy. You lean forward, resting your face on the hard bulge in his pants, smiling up at him. You’ve got these big, doe eyes, begging him, and he’s not so sure he even has the upper hand anymore—he would do anything you asked, any request that left those pretty bitten lips. He gathers your hair in two hands, forms a messy, unclean braid, crisscross at the back of your head just so he has something to grip while he fucks your throat.

You make quick, deft work of unbuttoning his jeans, and he watches, leaned back on the chair, legs spread wide with bent knees on either side of your body, caging you in. Carlos’ eyes are half-lidded, a hand at your braid, bringing his beer to his lips, swallowing before he sets it onto the adjacent desk.

His cock is big—thick, intimidating—and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to fit the whole thing in your mouth without choking. It twitches in your palms the longer you stroke him, precum weeping from the head and slicking up your palms. Gruff expletives, in Spanish and English, slip past his gritted teeth and the sounds travel directly to your core, causing you to instinctively press your thighs together to soothe the ache blossoming there.

You take head of his cock into your mouth, feel it roll over your tongue, heavy and warm. Drool gathers in your mouth and your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs in anticipation. The hand wound around your braid, pressed against your head, presses heavier slowly, slotting the first few inches of cock into your mouth while avoiding the back of your throat. You relax, letting your lips seal around the length, cheeks hollowing and tongue lulling at the underside. He curses.

You continue bobbing your head, lewd noises leaving your mouth with every move you make; it embarrasses you, but also sends slick gushing out of you.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat; you cough, fingers heavy as they dig into the flesh of his still-denim clas thighs; drool trickles onto his balls. The hand remains there, though, pushing you and keeping you pinned in place as he slowly thrusts upward. You haven’t even gotten him all the way.

You gag and sputter, eyes fully watering the harder Carlos bullies his cock into your throat; you’re dizzy with arousal and submission, maybe one, maybe both, you’re too far gone.

“Easy,” he orders, and you will yourself to breathe nasally, relaxing, burying more of him in you. He loves seeing you like this, hair all pretty—his braid, too—and on your knees, trying your best to please him. “Being so good for me, good girl,” he says, losing resolve. You’re so pretty when you cry, eyes rimmed and bloodshot, tear streaks all over your cheekbones.

He ruts shallowly into your throat, every move punctuated by a guttural gag from your end—once, twice, a third time, before finally he releases you. You let out a cough, and a gasp, breathy, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He doesn’t want to cum yet—not like this. You gaze up at him, big eyes anticipating, and he guides you upward, on the bed.

He kicks his jeans off and readjusts his briefs, watches you scramble to position yourself on the bed, sitting down properly. “Will you fuck me now?” You ask, your sweet voice raspy. He likes knowing he’s the reason why.

You inch yourself backward so you’re fully on his bed, a hand traveling to stop your tiny dress from riding up any further. He steps closer, one knee on the bed, caging you in again, and stops you. His gaze flickers down to your legs, forces your knees apart so he can see in between them. Your pretty cunt’s soaked through your panties. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, voice rough as he steps back off the bed and kneels beside it.

“Carlos,” you breathe, letting him have his way with you. Your mind’s all fuzzy, but it’s okay—he takes care of you. 

Strong arms snake around your thighs and pull you toward him until your cunt is level with his face. His breath, warm, fans against you, muted by the thin fabric of your panties and it does nothing to help the unadulterated, dirty arousal throbbing in your cunt. He bites at the flesh of your inner thigh, then hooks two fingers into your panties and pulls them aside.

The taste of you is so good; it goes straight to Carlos’ head. And all of your embarrassed, whiny whimpers, the way your fingers knot helplessly into his hair as he drags his tongue up your cunt — that drives him absolutely crazy. He licks at your pussy, sticks his tongue in, nudges your clit with his nose, ekes whimpers and debauched moans out of your lips.

He pushes two fingers into you, doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking them in and out, moans spilling out of you involuntarily. It’s lewd, it’s dirty, getting his friend’s daughter all spread out for him like this, but Carlos loves it. More, you sob, more, please, I need—yeah—

His skilled tongue doesn’t let up, continues toying with you, licking up all the arousal oozing out of your cunt. He eats you, fucks you with his fingers, until your eyes are welling up with overwhelm and the need to release, your hands pulling at his long hair—your pussy dripping, quivering, right at the edge of your orgasm.

Any of the reservations you had are now out the window. Your grip on Carlos’ hair is tight, pushing his head deeper into your pussy and grinding against his mouth mindlessly.

I’m cumming—!

Your voice is so dirty, so lewd, so needy, when you finally finish around him, slick dripping out and your pussy twitching, clenching and unclenching around nothing as you release. Panting, you hoist yourself on your elbows, your braid surprisingly intact, and pout down at him.

“I said fuck me.”

“So you complain,” he responds with a coy smile, his lips shiny with your slick. You want him to fuck you stupid.

He does eventually, gets you all calm and lying down on the bed, knees to your chest. Your feet cross and uncross with anticipation. He lets his cock rest first on your stomach, where it twitches, smearing precum under your belly button.

“That’s where you’ll be,” you say, stroking him. When he finally does begin thrusting into you, he wishes he could save the image of your pretty eyes fluttering closed, puffy lips open in a whimper.

Your legs tremble with the size you’re taking, his hand gentle as it is firm on your hips, forcing you to take him, take him good, take him better. Good girl, he’s saying, good fucking girl. Inch by inch, you struggle to take all of him, his girth thicker than what your cunt is willing to take. You’re positive you’ll feel him in your stomach.

“Carlos,” you whimper, voice aching.

“Fuck,” is all he can muster, watching your pussy swallow him. “So tight.”

He’s drunk on the feeling of you, wet and clenching around him, so tight. He can tell you’re high on it too, on the stretch of him, the way you keep trying to meet every thrust, legs already beginning to tremble with pleasure and deep arousal. He bottoms out, an expletive leaving him in Spanish, and then slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.

He watches your face, the way your brows knit as you take him, take his cock, eyelides fluttering. “So good,” you moan, mouth open. He drops a glob of spit onto your tongue, tells you to swallow—you do, presenting your empty tongue to him. Good girl, prettiest girl—any and all praise leaves him in dizzy, heady breaths.

“Teasing me for so long,” he pants, his dick splitting you in half. “This what you wanted? Hmm?”

But even in your cloudy mind, you find the grit to retaliate, teasingly, a cloy smile on your lips. “You said it was wrong,” you gasp out with every thrust. “Fucking your friend’s daughter.”

“But you love it,” Carlos goads. “Do you?”

You nod, cockdrunk, but it’s not enough. “Use your words, pretty. You can do it.”

“I do, I love it. I need more,” you whine, getting off on his teasing, on the implication that this is all wrong, that neither of you should be doing this. “Needed this so much, Carlos.” You crack your eyes open to watch the bulge in your abdomen, the shape of his girth splitting you open. He slams into you harder and you try to squirm away, but he keeps you pinned in place.

“And if your dad walked in?”

You gush slick all over him. “Carlos,” you plead.

“Saw his daughter taking his friend’s dick?” He says it low into your ear, bending to make sure you hear all of it. “Taking it like a good girl, too.” He pulls out, slaps your ruined hole with his dick, then shoves it in deep again, groaning when you cry out—getting off on you whining about how sensitive you are, the way you tremble under him and around him. Your pretty little face, all sweaty and ruined.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m, Carlos—I’m gonna cum,” you say, nodding. You’ve probably cum twice already, little bursts of pleasure causing your cunt to twitch around him, sensitive. “Can I—?” 

“That’s it,” he praises. “Come on, cum for me. Been so good for me.” You tremble around him as you finish, broken moans fucked out of you with every surge of his hips forward.

He’s close, too, having held off fucking you for the past how many days, and you can tell; his thrusts get shallower, faster, until his hips are stuttering and he’s panting your name out, long hair framing his flushed, pretty face. You reach up to comb a hand through it. “Cum inside me,” you beg, watching him go crazy, his nostrils flaring and eyes blinking quick. 

He pumps his cum into you, thrusting several times as he rides it out, fucking you full of him, of his cum. You relish in the feeling, of being his girl, his good girl. “You’re a mess,” he comments, his face buried into your neck. He pulls out, both of you sighing at the sight and feeling of his cum dribbling out of you, onto the bed.

You unfold your legs, sitting up despite how sore you feel. Your dress is damp with sweat, and slick, and cum. “I feel a mess.” You pout.

“You look pretty.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You ask, voice meek. He nods, holds you tight as you both drift off, like he knows that you won’t be his to call his by the time the summer wanes and Comporta is left empty again.

—

“It’s the post-race interview,” Ali calls. “Hurry!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You hop into the living room, tossing her the bag of popcorn she’d requested you to cook. Fall has officially dawned upon the city, adorning it with orange and red leaves, jazz music and cold nights—and weekends watching races.

Around you, all your university friends watch with intense gazes at the winner of the latest Formula One grand prix—something none of you had been remotely interested in just months prior.

You watch, eyes glittering, at the winner. Tan skin, long hair, jogging over to the journalist. Sainz, what a stellar drive! She sounds awestruck, genuinely taken aback by his dominance on the track today. She asks for a message in Spanish, as always; a few words of inspiration, and then, just as a fun little tidbit—did you have a good luck charm today?

He smiles to himself, like he’s just heard an inside joke and seems to think for a minute. “No, not really.” Then he combs a hand through his hair. There, looped around his wrist, is a pretty, pale pink ribbon.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz one shot #f1 x reader

[ihave-atummyache]

you drive me crazy

Stray Kids Imagine

summary: things that makes the boys weak in the knees.

OT8

5.3k words

NFSW!!! 18+

(some smut but not really a smutty piece. super suggestive tho!!)

(im just gonna post this and pretend i havent been mia for weeks<3)

Bang Chan: low rise pants

Your boyfriend doesn't know exactly what it is about you in low rise pants that gets to him, but he knows he's always having to drag his eyes away from that little sliver of skin. The fact that one wrong move could have him catching a glimpse of your panties makes him feel like a horny little teenager.

The two of you decided to go out one night, just some fairly private club that you frequented together. He sat in your living room while you placed finishing touches on your outfit for the night.

It had been a while since you went out and you were super excited to wear an outfit that you had been imagining in your head for months, but you just never got the opportunity to wear it.

You slipped the cargo pants up your legs and looked yourself over in the mirror again. You look hot. The corset top you had on accentuated your chest perfectly and was low enough that only the strip of stomach just below your bellybutton is visible. You quickly grab one of your favorite necklaces, a delicate "C" pendant hang just below your collarbone and you smiled at yourself one more time before grabbing your bag and walking to the living room.

Chan glanced up from his phone while you slipped your shoes on and had to do an honest double take. You were slightly bent over and that little sliver of skin that has him wanting to bend you over every surface is exposed right to his lurking eyes. 

He stands quickly just as you straighten and approaches you from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. His hands find purchase on the exposed skin, his fingers sliding through your front belt loops and his thumbs rubbing over the warm skin of your hips, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"You drive me crazy, baby," his voice is low and you let out a quiet hum when his lips brush over the back of your neck.

"I didn't do anything, Channie," you smile to yourself when you feel him smile against your skin.

"You know how much I love these pants. You're so pretty," he speaks up again, a shy chuckle following his compliment. You reach your hand back and scratch the back of his head, letting out your own chuckle.

"You compliment me too much," you tease and pull away from your boyfriend's arms to step out the door. He follows you out and his hand quick finds your hip again, holding you possessively close to his body as you make your way to the car.

It doesn't even matter if you have a little happy trail or if you're completely bare on that little spot. He just absolutely adores it. When you wear low rise pants in public, he secretly wishes you had a hickey over your hip so everyone knows that you belong to him. Or, even better in his opinion, a tattoo of his name or initial.

I imagine him being the type to be absolutely obsessed with a tramp stamp if you have one. His fingers always tracing over the lines when he’s looking at it or when he’s drilling into you from behind.

And if you happen to have a whale tail? It's over. You aren't even making it out the house. As soon as he lays eyes on the little string of your thong hanging out the top of your pants, all he wants is to pull them down your legs with his teeth and eat you out for hours.

Lee Know: flare leggings/yoga pants

Flare leggings make everyone's butt look good. It is a known fact around the world. It is also a known fact around the world that your sweet and loving boyfriend loves a good butt.

The first time Minho saw you in some black flare leggings, he didn't think much of it. You had told him earlier that you were going to a yoga class with one of your friends. Of course you would wear something along the lines of yoga pants.

You lean over and give him a quick kiss before you turn to leave and his eyes nearly pop out of his head at the sight. He was already sitting on the couch so he was essentially eye level with your ass, he had no choice but to look.

"Honey..." his voice trails off as soon as you bend over to pick up your bag from the ground, a low and involuntary groan leaving his throat. There's no way you had any underwear on and he so deeply wished he never had that thought because now his pants are significantly tighter than they were a few minutes ago.

"Yes? I need to go. What's wrong, love?" You turn to face him again. His eyes meet yours and he licks his lips before shaking his head.

"Never mind. Have fun!" He continues shaking his head, a smile cracking over his features. You eye him suspiciously before turning and heading to your yoga class.

The second time he sees you in flare leggings, you were meeting him at his house to go get some food with one of his friends and their significant other. You gently knock on the door before he opens it. His eyes immediately dart down and recognize the pants you have on, making him gulp.

You had on a cropped shirt with a cropped knit sweater and those damn black pants. You're smiling at him when his eyes finally meet yours again but his smile had quickly dropped.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" You question, a frown taking over his features as your boyfriend clenches his jaw and shakes his head before stepping to the side to let you in. You wordlessly enter and kick your shoes off.

You sit your bag down at the table and before you even realize he's behind you, you feel a sharp slap on your ass. You jump at the sudden sting and immediately turn around. Minho's eyes only meet yours for a second before a smirk covers his face.

"You want my roommates to see you in these? I think I should burn them," He raises his eyebrows at you and you look down at your outfit, still confused before looking back up at your boyfriend.

"Min, I don't-"

"What? You're going to say you haven't noticed how amazing your ass looks in these pants when you wear them? No need to lie to me, princess. There's no way you haven't noticed," he interrupts you and you feel heat creep up your neck. You look away quickly but his hand grabs your jaw, turning you towards him before pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Mhm. Do I need to cancel our little double date so I can remind you that you're all mine? And I don't like people looking at what's mine, princess. You know that," He taunts and you blink at him a few times before shaking your head at him.

"What? You don't want me to fuck you so brainless that the only thing you remember is my name? That's so unlike you. I bet you don't even have any panties on..." he trails off, his fingertips grazing over your warm cheek before he presses his knee gently between your thighs and applies pressure to where you're pulsing in need because of his filthy words.

"We only have 20 minutes until we have to leave," you breath out and he presses against your core firmer, making a moan leave your mouth and your eyes flutter shut.

"Then you better cum quick, baby," he replies before crashing his lips against yours again.

Changbin: crop tops

Even if you have insecurities about your own belly, Changbin loves it. Whether you're soft or toned, he doesn't care. He loves rubbing his hands up your warm skin under your shirt and feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin at his gentle touch.

When you two started dating, it was quite cold so you didn't wear any crop tops around him. Once the weather finally started warming up, however, you wasted no time in whipping out the cropped shirts.

You two decided to grab brunch at a local cafe before going to the park to have a picnic since the weather had started warming up. Being spring, the air was quite cool in the morning but once you two were settling in for your picnic, the sun began to shine a bit brighter and it quickly became warmer, making you open your jacket, leaving your stomach exposed to the air.

Changbin doesn't even realize you have a crop top on until you stand and throw something away in a nearby trashcan. His eyes quickly drop to your stomach and he has to fight the smile makings it way to his face.

His sweet thoughts don't last long, however. His brain quickly morphs to the thought of the two of you last night when you whined out how he was too deep.

"I'm too deep, baby?" he teases and your eyes water slightly while you nod, placing your hand on your stomach.

"I feel like you're in my guts right now," you whine and he pushes all the way in before stopping, making you whimper.

"I am in your guts right now," he counters, a smirk on his face.

Then his thoughts quickly morph into the ending of the night when he pulled out and came on your stomach. The way your skin looked covered in his cum had him almost getting hard again.

"What are you thinking about, bun?" your sweet voice pries your boyfriend from his daydream and he blinks at you before his eyes dart down to your stomach again. You smile when you see him look. It's no secret he loves your belly.

"Why do you love my belly so much?" you smile, leaning on the table between the two of you. He mimics your position and also leans on his elbows, leaning into you.

"Why do you love mine?" he counters and you look up at the sky, as if the answer would fall from it, before making eye contact with your pretty boyfriend again.

"Touché,"  you reply and lean forward slightly before pecking his nose gently.

Even when the two of you are laying together, no matter what position you are laying in, his hands are drawing mindless shapes all over your tummy. If you're standing together in a line and you have a crop top on, his arm is either around your waist from the side or behind, his thumb drawing shapes on your warm skin and causing chills in its wake.

If you have a belly button ring, he often finds himself also fiddling with it randomly, like a fidget toy. He also loves buying you little bellybutton jewelry and of course tops that will show it off nicely.

He especially loves if you wear a crop top and he can see faint marks of himself from the night before. What some other people may see as just a small bruise on your side, he knows is the exact outline of his thumb.

He loves seeing the little red streaks on your stomach or crescent marks in your skin from him scratching at you when things get a bit intense for him to control himself.

I also see him as adoring those funny little baby tees with silly sayings on them. Would definitely buy you a baby tee that says "My bf knows how to fight" or one that says something like "Daddy's Princess" as a joke and then get completely flustered and cute and red if you ever actually wear it asdfhkkkg i love him.

Hyunjin: skirt

Okay I don't know exactly what puts this thought in my head but I just imagined Hyunjin liking a tall girl... like I just KNOW he loves a good set of long pretty legs. Honestly even if they’re short, I imagine he just likes long pretty legs.

So when he sees his lover in a skirt, their legs looking extra long and pretty, he loses his mind. He is definitely the type to absolutely worship every square inch of your body, so it is rare that you can actually wear skirts or shorts. Your thighs are usually littered with hickeys and bite marks that he is sure to replace every time they fade.

It’s honestly surprising that there isn’t an indent of his shoulders on the back of your thighs with how much time he spends with his head between your legs. Of course there ends up being evidence that he was down there.

He had been busy the past week and you guys haven’t been able to spend much time together and if you did, it was just a quick lunch during his break or you bringing him some coffee at the company or studio.

So, when your boyfriend texts you and asks if you want to come to dinner later, you practically jump up and down at the offer. When you’re getting dressed, you find a skirt that you had completely forgotten that you had and slipped it up your thighs.

You put on a cute fur cardigan and your black skirt and some comfy heels. You made yourself look extra pretty, although it would just be you, Hyunjin, and one of his hometown friends having dinner.

When Hyunjin arrived at your house to pick you up, you stepped out your door at the same time he was stepping up your stairs and he literally freezes at the sight of you. The heels you have on do something for him all in their own (we’ll save this thought for a pt 2…) and your legs look extra long in the combination.

You turn, a bright smile on your face and walk towards your pretty boyfriend. His hair has started getting longer and falling in his eyes so when you walk towards him, stopping at the step above him, you tuck his hair behind his ears and press a kiss to his forehead. He leans up and you press your lips gently against his.

His arms wrap around the top of your thighs, just under your butt and he gently lifts you, turns, and places you on the sidewalk.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he smiles against your lips and you can’t help but smile back at your cute boyfriend.

“I missed you,” you reply and he pulls back to look at your face before pressing a kiss to your temple and humming in agreement.

The entire ride to the restaurant, Hyunjin’s hand never leaves your thigh. His fingers subconsciously toy with the hem of your skirt while he tells you about his past few days and tries to catch you up on all the tea.

He doesn’t even notice your physical reaction to his hand accidentally drifting a bit higher as your skirt rides up, due to your wiggling around in your seat. He parks the car and unbuckles his seatbelt before turning his body towards you and placing both his hands on your thighs, the tips of his fingers sliding under your skirt.

He presses his lips to yours again and squeezes your thighs, making you gasp slightly into his mouth. He pulls back and looks at his hands on your thighs before settling back in his seat and getting out the car, quickly circling to open the door for you.

He holds your hand and helps you out of the car before closing the door behind you. He presses his lips to your knuckles quickly before dropping your hand and wrapping his around around your waist, settling on your hip instead.

“I’m so lucky,” he suddenly whispers and you blush. This is something you two often say to each other, both feeling equally as lucky to have each other.

He also loves skirts because of their…easy access. He is definitely the needy type that will just flip your skirt up and pull your panties to the side before fucking the daylights out of you. Whether it’s in the restroom of a restaurant or up against your front door when you’ve barely stepped inside, he likes the thought of being able to get to your pussy whenever he wants.

He loves to lay you back on the bed and eat you out with the skirt pushed up over your belly or laying over his head. He has no problems teasing you and lightly brushing his fingers against your panties at any chance he gets.

He just loves you and your pretty legs and wants to show you!

Han: thigh high socks

Han Jisung! Another one who is a sucker for pretty legs. He thinks that pretty things should be decorated, this includes your thighs.

He didn’t realize that seeing you in thigh high socks would get him going until Halloween came around. You two decided on matching costumes one night and you opted for a corny, overdone option, a sexy nurse and doctor. It was easy enough and the pictures would be cute so you both decided to do it.

Your sexy nurse costumes was complete with a pair of white fishnet thigh highs with red bows on the front of either thigh. Jisung was sat on your bed on his phone when you pulled the socks on and made your way over to your mirror. You pulled on some shoes then went to your vanity to top off your look with the perfect red lipstick.

When you leaned into the mirror, you knocked over some makeup which catches your boyfriend’s attention and he looks up from his phone at you. His view is you from the back, bent into your vanity and those thigh high socks hugging the plush of your thighs perfectly.

His throat ran dry and he gulps deeply before he catches your gaze in the mirror, already looking at him as you rub your lips together.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease and he lets out a soft chuckle before grabbing his phone and snapping a picture of you.

“Hey!” You sit up straight and turn to face him, your hands on your hips, “I was joking!” you smile and make your way towards him. When you place a knee on the bed, his eyes drop back down to the lace hugging the top of your legs.

“Mm. I need to update my jacking off material. You looked a little too good bent over the desk with these on,” he grazes his fingers over the bows of your socks then around the lace then over the fishnets. You pull your other leg up on the bed, careful to leave your shoes off the comforter and place your hands around his neck.

“Oh? You like them Dr, Han?” You tease and he lets out another chuckle, looking up at your face again. That damn lipstick wasn’t making it any easier to not want to fuck you right now and forget about the whole Halloween party.

“I like everything you wear. You could come out in a parka or a burlap sack and I would still get hard,” he confesses and turns his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“What do you like about them?” You ask, innocence lacing your tone, driving him even crazier.

“I’m thinking about how this material would feel on my cock. Especially when you start begging me to stop fucking your thighs and fuck you instead,” he places another kiss, slightly higher up your forearm, “I’m thinking about how this fishnet would feel on either side of my head,” another kiss against the inside of your elbow, then another kiss on your bicep before pulling back to look up at you.

Despite you instigating him originally, you feel yourself turn beet red at his words. He has a dirty, correction: filthy, mouth and he knows exactly how to use it to get you going (in more ways than one).

Jisung loves the way your thighs spill out the top of thigh highs when you sit down. The material barely containing your soft flesh and he just want to bite down on the skin.

If you ever have them on when you two start getting hot and heavy, the socks stay on (bc ur not gay). He rubs himself against the material, sometimes able to cum even if you aren’t there with the help of the sock.

Sometimes, when he’s extra needy, he’ll grab the sock from your hamper or drawer and wrap it around his cock before jacking off. He always feels like a creep afterwards but its the best way he has found to get release when he’s super pent up.

He tries to keep it a secret and you don’t have the heart to tell your cute little perv of a boyfriend that you know. Until, he is going away for a while on tour and opens his suit case to a pair of his favorite thigh highs, the ones from halloween, and a note in your handwriting.

Enjoy, my baby. Send me videos<3

Felix: lace

Okay let me explain. I imagine Felix just being an absolute horny little guy who also enjoys the classics. He LOVES a good set of lingerie. Which slowly turned to him just loving lace. When he sees you in a lace, corset top it doesn’t take much for his imagination to run wild.

Then when you had the audacity to show up to a party with a lace top and leather pants, he thought he was going to have an actual aneurysm. The combination of the leather and lace had him imagining he had just walked into his dream porno, you as the star.

The top was corset style and looked a little too similar to lingerie. When he asked you where you got it from and you leaned into him to whisper that you had ordered it online from a sex shop, he thoughts he was going to cum on the spot.

He could barely keep his hands off of you all night. It only worsened when you had returned to his side after a bout of dancing with some of your friends. His eyes followed a single drop of sweat that rolled down your neck and disappeared down the valley of your breasts and behind your lace shirt. That you ordered…from a sex shop.

When you two had gone shopping and you insisted he come into the dressing room with you, he didn’t think anything of it. You two usually did join each other in fitting rooms and bathrooms visits, call it separation anxiety.

You pulled your shirt over your head and Felix immediately cussed under his breath, making your brow drop to a frown as you threw your shirt to his lap.

“What?” you question and grab the new shirt, pulling it down and turning in the mirror a few times before Felix finally replies to you.

“You’re so fucking hot. Do you realize that? It’s taking everything in my power to not ask you to ride me right here, right now,” he suddenly says and you freeze before slowly turning to face him.

“Oh?” You question, a teasing smirk on your lips as you pull the shirt over your head again and his eyes drop to the black lace bralette again. It doesn’t have much liner and it isn’t helping that he can see your nipples through the bra too. Now that he knew what was under your hoodie, he wouldn’t be able to focus for the rest of your day together.

“Yeah. You know how I get when I see you in lace like this,” his voice is low, cautious that nobody outside the fitting room can hear your conversation. You walk towards him and place both hands on his shoulders.

He immediately leans forward and pops the bra against your skin with his teeth. There’s a light knock on the door and you pull away to continue trying on your clothes.

“Oops. Lets save this for when we get home, mister,” you tease and wink at him before pulling down your shorts, your panties match your bra and he groans again, making you smirk to yourself.

What finally sends him over the edge is when his phone vibrates beside him while he’s on a water break. It’s like you can sense when he’s on break and you always text him at the perfect time.

Sunshine: what do ya think? (: <link>

Felix’s jaw might as well have unhinged with how far it fell. The link took him to a site with a baby blue lingerie set. It was all lace with a few flowers strategically embroidered. He had to take a deep breath and stare at the picture for a while, trying his best to not get hard.

Sunshine: left on read? no likey?

The notification pops up at the tops of his screen and he realizes that he hasn’t replied to you after practically instantly reading your message.

Lixieee: i dont like. i love. i’m hard now. thanks<3

You simply loved the message and placed the order, excited for your new set to come in.

Seungmin: spandex shorts/biker shorts

It isn’t anything crazy and Seungmin swears he isn’t a perv. He just knows his baby is hot and knows what you have the capability of doing to him. He’s just a little obsessed with you.

You two were still best friends when he realized he had a thing for you in these tight little shorts. You had came to his house to just hangout. You weren’t looking too special, opting for some biker shorts and a hoodie and pulling your hair up into a messy updo.

He opens the door and you immediately hold your hand out to him, handing him the coffee you had picked up for him on the way.

“Hey, cutie,” you tease and step into his house before sliding your sneakers off and heading towards the living room. With your back turned, he got the opportunity to sneak a peak at your ass.

The biker shorts you had on left practically nothing to the imagination and he actually thinks he felt his heart stop when you bent over and he could make out the shape of your most private area through the shorts.

Okay maybe he was a perv.

“I like those shorts,” he comments and steps into the room before settling on the couch. You quickly plop down next to him.

“These shorts are a hit,” you comment nonchalantly and he looks over at you, waiting for you to elaborate. You chuckle and take a sip of your coffee.

“I wore these to the gym the other day with when I hit legs with Binnie and he said the same thing,” you reply and Seungmin feels himself clench his jaw at the thought of someone else looking at you the same way he had just been.

And you hit legs with him? Does that mean that he saw you squatting in these tight little shorts. Does that mean that he also saw you bending over the same way he just had? Had Changbin also made out the shape of your sweet cunt the same way he had? He turns away from you again to face the front.

You grab his arm and push it up to the back of the couch, scooting close to him and laying your legs over his thigh that was closest to you.

“What? Jealous?” you tease and Seungmin chuckles humorlessly at the accusation.

“Extremely.” He deadpans and glances over at you, your smile dropping at his confession.

“W-Why is that?” He threw you off with actually confessing to being jealous. You were used to him just teasing you back and you two bickering endlessly but never this.

“Because he got to see what’s mine,” he replies and shrugs and you open your mouth to reply but can’t think of the right words to say as a blush creeps up your neck at his words.

You definitely lose any sense of words when his hand drops to your bare thigh and starts kneading at the flesh. His hand creeps a little closer to your core and your legs fall apart slightly, granting him access. He lets out a laugh at how pliable you’re being and leans forward, setting his coffee on the table in front of you.

“No objections to that statement?” he raises his eyebrows at you and you snap your mouth closed before shaking your head.

“You can’t use your words, pup?” The nickname wasn’t anything new from him but the way his hand was rubbing your upper thigh and the way he is slowly leaning into you had your heart racing even more.

“Kiss me,” you command instead and he complies, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

I.N: his clothes

Maybe it’s his possessive side but when Jeongin sees you in his clothes, his brain goes haywire. Sometimes he thinks you look so cute, especially if the clothes are swallowing you up. But sometimes, it makes him want to kiss you until you can’t breathe.

The first time you wore his clothes, it was completely unintentional. You two had just started dating and hadn’t taken many big steps in your relationship. So it was much to your, and Jeongin’s, surprise when you drunkenly called him while out with your friends.

You were practically begging him to come pick you up because you missed him and he couldn’t help but comply. He pulled up to the bar and you quickly made your way outside and sat down in his warm car. You smelled like straight liquor and vomit and Jeongin’s nose scrunched at the smell before he looked over at you.

“I didn’t throw up. I swear. Some stranger threw up on me and my friends didn’t want to leave yet. Can we go back to your house? I don’t have my keys…” you caught yourself about to ramble and trailed off but Jeongin just giggled at you.

“Of course,” he replies and put the car in drive before making his way to his house. Once you got there you asked if you could take a shower and borrow some clothes and he readily agreed. He sat out some shorts and a t shirt on the sink while you were in the shower and stepped back out to wait on you.

When you entered his room, he had to do everything in his power to not get hard. He had given you one of his comfiest t shirts, which also meant it was huge and it literally went almost down to your elbows.

“Come on, drunky,” he teases and lifts the blanket next to him. You blush and crawl into the bed next to him. He hands you a bottle of water and you take a few sips before handing it back to him and settling into his side.

“I’m sorry. Is this weird for you? If it is, I can go home. I know you want to take things slow but I don’t know how you feel about-”

“Y/n. Sweetheart,” he interrupts you and you snap your mouth shut, waiting for him to continue. He grabs under your chin and leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes his toothpaste on your lips and for some reason, that also gets him going. The thought that if anyone else were to taste your lips, that they would taste like him.

“You look so pretty in my clothes,” he pulls away to say against your lips and you chuckle before leaning in to kiss him once more.

The way that you two got caught in your relationship was actually because of a tiny little detail. It stemmed from the two of you sharing clothes.

He had gotten a custom bracelet made for himself that was literally one of a kind in the world. You had gotten dressed up to go out and forgotten to put on a bracelet at your house so you asked your boyfriend if he could bring you one to make your outfit better. He agreed of course and later when you posted pictures on social media (pc: innie), you had the bracelet on. Stay was quick to zoom in and notice that it was the same custom bracelet that Jeongin usually wore.

#skz #skz changbin #skz fanfic #skz felix #skz fluff #skz hyunjin #skz imagines #skz jeongin #skz minho #skz scenarios #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids minho #stray kids seungmin #stray kids hyunjin #seungminnie #stray kids #seungmin #skz smut #skz texts #skz fake texts #skz x reader #skz stay #stray kids headcanons #stray kids one shot #stray kids angst #stray kids crack #stray kids oneshot #ihave-atummyache

[opennwindows]

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #celia reqs #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned smut #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned x you #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned hcs #creepypasta headcanon

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

IM UNSHADOWBANNWD AH. I’ve been so excited to post this story it’s been in the works and it’s the THREE HUNDRED follower special first of all i do not deserve you guys at all thank you for all the support you show me i hope you enjoy this as much as i did hehe MUAH

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

afab reader x Pornstar! ID Leon

Warnings: Smut- just pure porn with a plot. PORNSTAR LUIS TOO HEHE.Slight (very) slight mentions of being obsessed/ watching reader, leon eats pussy (ofc he does) and fucks reader stupid.

Word count: 3,169

———-

knock knock

“What?”

Why did he sound so annoyed? Your fist stalled against the door as you paused your knocking.

“Um- Greg told me to introduce myself. Sorry if you’re busy.”

Just try and sound sweet, don’t be a pushover. You had barely just stepped onto the set, still in the clothes you wore to your psychology class. The room ran silent, your eyes reading over his name on his door continuously before it swung up, your hair moving from the gust of wind.

His arms were so toned, his hand gripping the handle of the door knob as he leaned against the door frame. Incredibly toned, his shirt off and his hair laying against his face so perfectly. His steely eyes scanned you up and down, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he saw you holding your Psych 200 book.

“Leon.”

He mumbled as he watched you scan over his arms. He was cocky; you could tell. Before you could even introduce yourself, the door slammed in your face, your hands gripping your bag as you sighed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

———

“She shot with Sera like a month ago. The video is still up on the front page too.”

Leon’s makeup artist spoke as she rubbed the beauty blender against his forehead. Leon stared at himself in the mirror; he felt terrible for slamming the door in your face. He really did. He has been in the industry for too long, and he has never had anyone come and formally introduce themselves before filming, so seeing you stand there not being able to say a complete sentence to his face just irritated him. He was also just surprised you didn’t know him; he owned this whole set, his manager is the one who makes his booking, or he definitely wouldn’t have picked you of all people.

———

After shooting with Luis, the two of you became very close friends; when you got to your small studio room, you threw your bag and book down, dialing his number on your phone as you pulled your laptop out, sitting on the desk.

“Hello?”

Luis' voice rang through your ear as you sighed in frustration, instantly communicating that something was wrong.

“He slammed a door in my face when I tried to say hi to him, Luis.. why does he have such a big ego? Sure is heavy for a man I've never even seen before.”

Your fingers typed his name into the search bar, clicking on the first link to come up as you listened to Luis ramble about how this is just how it’s going to be and how lucky you were to get him as your first shoot, your mouth ran dry seeing the cover photo of one of Leon’s hundreds of videos, his cock barely pushing into some girl, his hair covering his face so perfectly and his lips parted so slightly.

“Mama, what did I tell you? Do not google.”

Luis scolded as he listened to you close the laptop.

“I don’t know, Luis, maybe I should just leave- I have to go; makeup’s here.”

Hanging up on him because of the slight knock on the door. It must have been noticeable that you were in your head, the pretty makeup artist wiping at your cheeks with a light bronzer to grab your attention.

“You don’t need much makeup, and you’re naturally very beautiful.”

She smiles softly as she reaches for the mascara. You smile back at her as she tilts your head around.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

You laugh as she turns your chair around, smiling as she pushes your hair from your face.

“Gorgeous, they want you in this. Whatever you wear under is completely up to you.”

The beautiful woman rambled as she pulled the light blue sundress from the bag, handing it to you. No matter what they said to you, you couldn’t get out of your own head.

————

The wall had a weird pattern. It wasn’t like standard white paint but was super grainy, you sat further back, watching as the director checked all of his cameras, fixing the lights, and reading over signed paperwork. They never handed you a script, though, which left you lost. Luis’ crew had a script. It was easy to remember, but maybe only Leon had one. Right when you think about him, he comes walking in from the main door, a smug smile on his face as he grabs hands to shake. If he weren’t in the industry he would make a wonderful bodyguard with broad shoulders, strong arms, and confidence. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt accompanied by a pair of dark denim jeans. It sucked; he was such an asshole, he was handsome. It suddenly made you feel so self-conscious, remembering the cover photo you had seen on your laptop. You specifically specialized in actual content, genuine emotions, and honest reactions, and the people love it. You started on your own, only fans, to be specific, and it makes you laugh out of embarrassment when it’s brought up. Your eyes follow Leon as he grabs a cup of water, leaning on the table as he talks to the makeup artist, who, for some reason, points over to you. Your eyes drop to your lap, your legs crossed as you play with the soft material of the dress. Your heart began to race as you saw his shoes directly in front of you. His presence was so heavy. Your gaze shifted up to him, his hand touching the arm of your chair.

“Sorry for slamming the door on you, I’ve had a long week, and I forgot I was shooting today.”

Hearing him talk in a complete sentence now was weird, his voice rough yet deep. You nodded your head as you shrugged.

“I can’t blame you; I would slam the door on me too.”

You smile, but it quickly drops once you notice what he said; how could he forget he has a shot? He just called you easily forgettable. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your thighs, smiling to himself as your leg bounced up and down. The two of you stood in your silence before Greg walked over towards you two, grabbing your shoulders.

“Leon, Y/N, Y/N, Leon. I know this piece of work doesn’t introduce himself for shit.”

He laughed, pointing towards the bed in the middle of the room; Leon’s eyes squinted at the minor insult before both of your eyes shifted to the bed. He had explained some shitty plan that had the two of you bored. He sighed before he looked at Leon, touching his arm.

“Just do whatever you want. Why do you pay me?”

His foot turned to walk away from you two as Leon still stared at the bed in the middle of the room. He turned back to you, putting his hand out, your eyebrow-raising in confusion up at him.

“Leon Kennedy.”

Your hand pulled from your lap, shaking at his, both of your grip on each other strong as you nodded your head.

“Just call me Y/N.”

You spoke sheepishly before he helped you up from the chair. Was he going to listen to what the director said? This was an extensive movie set, the bedroom, and then the small room apart from the bedroom that seemed to resemble a hallway.

“I know we stepped off on the wrong foot, but can you trust me? Just for the next hour?”

Leon leaned down to your ear as the two of you walked towards the hallway set. You nodded your head as the lighting changed to a darker yellow.

Leon’s head turned towards the camera as he put his hand up

“No cuts.”

He yelled out as he turned back to you.

—————-

Felt awful slamming the door on her pretty face.

Leon’s grip on the door handle grew tighter by the second as you rambled on about trying to introduce yourself. The room shook as he slammed the door, a strained groan leaving his lips as he looked down at his sweatpants. You had knocked at a horrible time, Leon’s laptop on display with your video with Luis flashing on his screen. He was obsessed with you. Obsessed with how your lips parted before you moaned or how easily sensitive you were. You didn’t need to introduce yourself. He already knew. So when he called his agent asking him to call your agent to see if you were booking, he was more than excited when they said you were open. He pumped himself for almost an hour, soft moans leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to think about how it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock.

———

“Action!”

Greg screamed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at Leon. It was crazy how fast you could switch moods like that. Leon's hands were immediately all over you, pressing you into the wall by your waist as he hungrily peppered kisses against your jaw. And suddenly everything felt so much hotter? His hands dragged down your skin, and his lips burned into the soft skin of your neck, a whine leaving your lips as one of Leon’s hungry hands brought your leg to his waist.

“There you go, honey, relax for me..”

He mumbled into your skin as his hands lifted you into his arms. You were surprised at his strength as he held you with one hand, his other pushing the door open. He made you feel so small, throwing you down onto the plush mattress, your chest rising and falling as he softly nipped at your collarbones. You weren’t this nervous with Luis, your hands shaking as you pushed some hair from Leon’s face as he kissed the small space between your chest, his hands carefully rubbing up your thighs, his fingers resting against your stomach as he pushed himself down the bed. He needed more. The way you shook under him only encouraged him, his head nuzzling so perfectly between your thighs, smirking up at you as your eyes fluttered away from you, avoiding his stare. The pressure in his pants grew more intense, listening to the hiss pull through your teeth as he held onto the fabric of the sundress, licking over your pretty black panties.

“Damn..”

He grumbled as he lifted your hips, pulling the panties off you, bundling them up in his hand, and pushing them into his pocket as he moved the dress's material again. Scooting in closer to you, laying your knees over his shoulders as he looked up at you through heavy eyelids, his tongue laying a long strip over your folds. You couldn’t help but squirm in his grasp, his hands flying to your waist as you let out that shaky whine again that drove him fucking crazy. You tasted so unbelievably good on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he hungrily lapped at your folds, pulling you closer like somebody was trying to take you from him. You were so dazed, your back arching as the cameraman squatted beside you and Leon, trying to get the perfect angle. You didn’t even care about his presence, caught up in crying out Leon's name as he repeatedly lapped at your clit, a loud whimper leaving your lips as you sat up, tugging at his hair. Leon could stay between your legs all day, but he needed more. He pulled away from your still dripping core, his face glistening with your slick as he took advantage of you sitting up, pulling the dress over your head. He couldn’t help but groan, finally seeing you bare beneath him, his hands pushing down against your chest, your back laying flat against the mattress yet again as you stared up at him, watching with sparkling eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was sculpted so beautifully.. and it hit you, this is why he’s so popular, he’s a walking god.

“Been waiting on this part all fucking day..”

Leon’s lips parted as he yanked his jeans down, along with his boxers. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock pressed against his upper stomach, his hand reaching down to pump himself as he kicked his jeans off. And suddenly you felt like that girl on the cover of the video you saw, Leon’s hair sprawling perfectly against his face as he leans his body down, tearing your thighs open as his thumb lazily rubs small circles against your clit, smirking as you jolt forward. He continued to pump himself as he reached over, grabbing at the baby pink silk pillow at the edge of the bed before he shoved it under your hips. What a gentleman… you thought to yourself before your thighs were pressing together at the feeling of his cock pressing into you. He was so thick, your walls having a hard time adjusting to even just the tip of him. Leon’s lips pressed together as he let out a quiet “fuck..” His hands holding your legs open as he put more pressure on your clit, your core growing soaked again assisting him in sliding so perfectly into you. If he weren’t getting paid for this, he would’ve just came then and there, watching your pretty face scrunch up in painful pleasure, your legs kicking in his grasp slightly, and your painfully tight walls squeezing him.

“Fuck.. relax, baby, let me in.”

Leon whispered to you as you nodded your head, allowing your hips to rest against the pillow as he cooed down at you, leaning down against your much smaller form and forcing your legs over his broad shoulder. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit to ease the pain of him stretching you out. Leon’s jaw tightens as he pulls his hips back, letting out a shaky breath as he slams back into you, smiling as the small “Mmph!-“ Left your throat involuntarily. So fucking precious. Your soft thighs brushed against his chest as he fucked into you, his body weight lifting off you as he grabbed your ankles, staring down at where he pushed into you. Even the director looked surprised as Leon let out a long moan. It rumbled through his chest as he continued to fuck into you, your hands grabbing at the bed sheets. Leon mumbled a few words to himself before he grabbed at your body, flipping you on to your side as he threw the pillow to to other side of the room. He crawled behind you, lifting your leg before he pushed into you again, causing you to let out a loud whine, your head leaning back into his shoulder as his thrusts somehow became deeper- more meaningful. Leon reached over, pushing some hair from your face as he looked down at you.

“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

His lips touch the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. You were in bliss; he rubbed against your walls so perfectly it felt like your skin was on fire. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at the camera hazily. Leon shook his head, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him.

“Don’t look at them.. look at me… it’s just you and me right now, baby, just you and me.”

He groaned down to you as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips in response, your orgasm crashing through you. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as his hips snapped into you faster.

“That's a good fucking girl- mm.. fuck keep squeezing around me like that, honey..”

Leon felt his hips stuttering as he looked down at you, fucked out in his arms. A shaky moan left his lips as his hips stopped, his cum spurting into you, causing loud cries to leave your lips. Leon laid out of breath before he pulled out of you, smirking as he tilted his head at the cameraman to bring him in closer as he spread your lips, his fingers spreading your folds as his cum dripped out of you, the biggest smirk on his face.

“Cut!”

Was all you heard as the bed dipped beside you, your body still trying to recover as you sat up, your hair messy and your mascara running down the side of your face as Leon laughed, looking over at you.

“You okay, sugar?”

He asked sweetly as he grabbed a water, opening it before handing it to you, pushing some hair from your face as you took a small sip.

“Yeah.. just was a lot.”

You nod as he watches you; he clears his throat, handing you the sundress from the ground as he stands, pulling his pants up.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me, but, are you busy tonight? Let me take you out for dinner.”

He wasn’t asking; it was more of him letting you know he was. Your arms go through the holes before you look at him, nodding your head.

———-

You were the current talk of the industry.

Everyone was so curious how you broke Leon, making him utterly different from any video he’s ever shot.

Your face scrunches as you look at yours and Leon’s page on the front cover of the site, that smirk on his face as he spreads apart your folds. Your knee is pressed to your chest as you scroll through the comments, flinching slightly as you feel pressure at the top of your head.

“Morning.”

Leon grumbles as he sips his coffee after kissing the top of your head. His eyes follow yours, seeing the “uploaded two months ago” in the corner as he whistled

“Gonna win awards for that one.”

He winks at you, your arm swinging at him before you shut the laptop on the table.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #luis sera smut #yourgentlegf #leon infinite darkness

[saleeba]

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off. 

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person. 

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad. 

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends. 

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for. 

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.” 

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it. 

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words. 

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though. 

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other. 

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel. 

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests. 

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again. 

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude 

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late. 

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole  – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry. 

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head. 

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home. 

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up. 

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision. 

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs. 

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now. 

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely. 

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy. 

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s. 

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.” 

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release. 

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,” 

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste. 

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once. 

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions. 

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones. 

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.  

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail. 

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽 #then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭 #guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO #ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt #feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °) #˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗ #˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗ #jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer smut #footballer imagine

[swanlakebaby]

— missing you | pjm

prompt: seeing jimin after long distancing.

⸝⸝ pairing: bf!jimin x fem!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: smut, kissing, teasing, whispering, masturbation, sexting, dom jimin, creampie, multiple rounds, semi fluff jimin, eating out, swallowing, etc.

⸝⸝ word count: 2.3k

⸝⸝ note: this is one of my favorites that ive written so far! it was fun to write out and i tried to do something new if you couldn’t tell. i eventually want to start a series soon but im still trying to figure out the storyline for that. i hope u enjoy!

• ps: my requests are still open. (please make sure to state whether you want your request to include smut or not!)

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

-

your phone dings , your screen lighting up. you roll over and lazily grab your phone , perking up once you realize it's another notification from jimin. you sit up in the bed and look at the chat.

★ jimin - i miss you so much...

★ jimin - i keep thinking of all things i'll do to you when i get back.

you smile at the message , laying back down on the bed. you stare at the screen for a while as you think of a response. but before you could answer , another message comes through.

★ jimin - i hate this time of year. we're always working on music , which i love , but it means i have to spend time away from you for a few weeks. don't you hate it too?

☆ you - i miss you too ! i hate how cold the other side of the bed is. when are you coming home? :(

★ jimin - soon , i promise.

you grin , suddenly excited about the idea of seeing jimin. hou sit up on your knees and slowly lift your tank top. you go to the camera app and flip the camera toward you , snapping photos of your breasts. you go back to the chat and send the picture. you watch as jimin types , then stops some time after the picture is sent.

★ jimin - you look amazing. i can't wait to touch you again.

a message comes through shortly after. a picture of jimin slouched back onto his bed , his shirt and pants off. the visual of his abs and boxers made your mouth water.

for the rest of the night , you spent the entire time messaging jimin back and forth about random things. plans you had coming up , small date ideas , etc. the conversation then takes a turn as jimin goes inactive for a while. you continuously message him until coming to the conclusion that he had fallen asleep on accident. after a while , you receive a video clip from jimin. you click to watch it , unsure do what to expect.

in the same slouched position , jimin rubs his hand over his boxers , his bulge now visible. he slowly slides his hands in his boxers and takes out his cock. he was hard , firmly wrapping his hand around himself as he pans the camera up. he smirks , before lowering the angle once again. he begins to pump his cock , whimpering and moaning into the camera as he speeds up and slows down. he mumbles your name into the camera as his body stiffens , white fluids spilling out over his chest. he grunts , aggressively pumping out all of his cum until he’s empty. he let's go of his cock tiredly and shows the cum on his hand and abs.

after watching the video , you only wished he could come home sooner. in response , you lay on your back fully. panning the camera up and down your body. at this point , you only had on panties and a thin tank top. you play with your breasts in the camera for a few moments before flipping it and propping your legs up. you take two fingers and slide them down your panties. you begin recording yourself as you intensely finger yourself , the wet sounds from your vagina getting stickier.

your panties have a dark patch on them as you begin to throb and soak through them. you play with yourself for a while until eventually , your legs begin to get shaky as you throw your head back and moan into an orgasm. your body shakes as you slide your fingers deeper into you. panting , you take your fingers out and show the camera. your fingers were sticky and glossy now. you flipped the camera onto yourself and recorded yourself cleaning them up with your tongue , one of jimin's favorite things he loved seeing you do.

jimin immediately calls you after receiving the video. ''i miss you.'' was all he said. ''then come home. please.'' you whisper into the phone. without saying a word , he hangs up. you giggle , knowing that he hated being teased and now he probably had an attitude. you quickly clean yourself up and decide to finally head to sleep. the orgasm gave you a wave of uncontrollable sleepiness and you wanted nothing more than to go to bed and decided that you’d continue the conversation with jimin tomorrow.

-

you feel the other side of the bed shift as someone slides in next to you. you immediately open your eyes , making sure that it wasn’t some perverted intruder. upon seeing him , you jump into his arms as you yell out his name. “jimin!” he chuckles , pulling you into a warm embrace. he sways you as he buries his face into your neck , giving it small pecks. “i missed you so much! why are you here? how did you even get here? it feels like i just talked to you!” your heart was fluttering as the person you loved and cared about so much was literally right in front of you. he looked into your eyes deeply before speaking. “as soon as i heard the whispering , i booked my ticket and began packing. i decided to leave early.”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. he left his job early to come surprise you and see you. you didn’t know how to feel. “i love you so much!” you beamed. “show me.” he says , leaning back onto the bed. “you just got here.” you say , pushing at his chest. “i don’t like being teased , you know this. so show me how much you love and missed me.” he bites his lip , looking you up and down. you roll your eyes , not taking him seriously. as you attempt to get off of him , he grabs onto your waist and pulls you onto his lap. “jimin let me go.” you whine , looking out at the morning sky. he chuckles , gripping onto your waist tightly , not budging at all.

you wrap your arms around him , smiling at him. “you’re so annoying.” you mumble. “what was that?” jimin says , smirking. you hide a smile and look down. “why are you being shy?” he whispers. lifting your chin up with his index finger. you giggle nervously , unsure of what to say. “it’s been a while that’s all.”

“then let me take the lead , okay?” he gently pushes you onto your back and pushes his bulge against your thin previously soaked panties from the video. he hums as he recognizes them , pushing himself deeper against you. “i know exactly what i want to do to you.” he says in a whisper. suddenly , he grabs you and lifts you off of the bed , walking you over to the windows of your shared apartment. he stands behind you , kissing your shoulders and rubbing the sides of your body. jimin pauses for a moment , standing extremely close to the right side of your face. “will you let me show you how much i missed you?” he whispers into your ear. chills run through your body as you get excited. you don’t say anything , but you nod , giving him the go ahead. “i need words.” he says in a low voice , playing with the sides of your panties. “show me jimin.” you say.

with that that he slides down your panties , getting on his knees as he brings them all the way down to your ankles. he holds onto your butt cheeks , slowly spreading them apart as he shoves his face into them , licking your vagina in a slow pace. you place your hands onto the windows , arching your back slightly as jimin repeatedly eats at your vagina , leaving small pecks on your folds. you lift your leg a bit and jimin holds it steady. he devours you in a way you’ve never see him before. you wonder how long he’s been waiting to do this. you slowly grind against his face , small moans escaping your lips everytime his tongue grazes your clit. he then stands up and begins taking off his shirt and pants , wasting no time at all. he takes out his cock immediately and rubs himself hard.

he pushes you up against the windows , holding onto your head. he slides inside of you , not allowing you to fully adjust to the length of him. he thrusts in and out of you hungrily , grunting as your butt smacks against his lower waist. “i missed you so much.” he says out of breath , not slowing down the pace. you turns your face to face his , holding onto your neck as you stare deeply into each others eyes. you bite your lips and manage to spit out a “i missed you too.” in between breathless moans. you leave your left hand on the window , taking your right one and holding the side of his face as he pounds you aggressively , not considering the fact that neighbors could probably hear.

after a few moments , jimin stops , pulling out and cumming all over your ass. you turn your head to look as you attempt to catch your breath. he smacks your butt , making it jiggle slightly. he then grabs you and walks you over to the end of the bed. he bends you over the small bed bench. you hold onto the bench , half of your body keeping you steady on the floor , the other half of the bench. jimin holds onto your sides , fucking you. he looks over to the bedroom mirror , running his hands through his hair as he admires the view. the cum on your ass begins dripping down slowly , some of it getting messy and sticking onto jimin.

he looks down and watches his cock slide in and out of you in a fast pace as he fucks you. he grabs onto your shirt and pulls it , using it to keep his pace consistent. “i’m gonna cum again..” jimin mumbles , gripping onto you tightly. the phrase alone makes you throb , your knees buckle as the sensation of orgasming overcomes you. your body twitches as you cum all over jimin’s dick , making a sticky white mess.

small beads of sweat slide down jimin’s chest and abs. he slams into you with one final trust , not pulling out as he fills you up with his cum. you curse under his breath , feeling his cum drip out of you and into the bench. your body felt weak and tired.

jimin slides out of you and steps back. he walks over to the dresser and grabs a few napkins. he begins slowly wiping you clean , making sure to also clean up his cock. you lay there out of breath , your vagina feeling exhausted and sore. jimin teases you , rubbing his fingers along your vagina. you jolt forward , the nerves in your clit extra sensitive now. he chuckles at his , smacking your butt and helping you up off of the bench. he sits down , pulling you on top of him. his cock is still hard. you reach behind you and grab onto it , slowly stroking it. he closes his eyes and throws his head back slightly as his tip feels sensitive. without warning , you lift yourself up and slide his cock into you. he groans , opening his eyes and placing his hands around your waist. “break please.” jimin mumbles , feeling tired.

“it’s my turn.” you say. he hides a smile , leaning back and resting his back against the bed. you put your hands on his shoulders and slowly grind on him. you continue this motion for a while , looking down at jimin as he looks up at you , his eyes half lidded. he can barely muster out a moan as he just lays back and enjoys the feeling of your vagina once again. you prop yourself up on your feet and grip onto jimin’s shoulders , bouncing on his cock like never before. jimin perks up , load moans escaping his mouth. he dirty talks you , teasing you to go faster and harder on his cock.

he suddenly pushes you off , grabbing you and putting you to your knees. you open your mouth , staring up at jimin and begging him to cum for you. he grabs his cock and slaps his tip against your tongue a few times before cum starts to spill out into your mouth. once he finishes , his cock goes limp as he tries to catch his breath. he looks down at you and closes your mouth with your jaw. “swallow it.” he demands. his cum is silky and sweet as it slides down your throat. you do as he says , grabbing onto his cock and cleaning up a bit more. you teasingly begin pumping him again. he swats your hands and laughs , plopping down onto the bed bench.

“if we go again i’ll pass out.” jimin says. “but i missed you.” you kiss his jawline , wanting more. he chuckles and smiles , not taking you serious. “i need to rest before we do anything else.” you give him one final peck on the lips before standing up and grabbing a new pair of panties to wear. when you walk back into the room , jimin lays naked in the bed , drifting off to sleep. “did i put you to sleep?” you tease. he smirks. “i did most of the work. i deserve a break” he extends his arm and reaches out for you. you slide into the bed beside him and rest your head on his chest , listening to his breathing as he slowly falls asleep.

written by swanlakebaby™

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #kpop #park jimin #bts jimin #bts smut #jimin x reader #jiminie #smut #smut bts #jimin smut #bts reactions #fanfic bts #jimin bts #bts army #jiminsmut #jimin ff #jimin cute #jiminbts #jimin

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 3 - french girl | art major ellie x dance major reader

last chapter | next chapter

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 3.8k words | slow burn(?), mutual pining, loser ellie, recreational drug use (weed)

a/n: this took so long because im an intp AND a taurus *makes excuses for myself* also tysm to everyone who commented on the last chapter ur amazing and ily ♥

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Ellie’s in nothing but her underwear, legs criss-crossed on her navy comforter; holding a joint between her lips as she tunes the strings of her maple wood guitar. It’s a lazy Saturday, the one day out of seven where Ellie isn’t constantly tormented by homework and art projects.

These days are practically therapeutic for her. Being able to strum her fingers against the nylon strings and relish in the relaxing, skunky smell of cannabis can fix all of her problems. Minus one, of course: getting to know you better. 

For now, she’s at peace with doing nothing, that is until a loud ding goes off and the brightness of her phone flashbangs her otherwise dim-lit room. She scowls, exhaling a puff from her lungs as she reaches over for the device. Ellie has friends, but she’s no social butterfly. Her phone is usually dry, especially on weekends. Jesse is definitely with Dina, so unless it's serious; there’s no reason for her to be getting a text. 

Naturally, her scowl deepens when she reads that the number is unknown. 

???: hii

ellie: wrong number

She opts to toss her phone away, but the next message throws her off track. 

you: it’s — !

Ellie’s eyes widen at her screen like your name is a hypnotic spiral. She can feel her heart swelling well within her chest, and she’s left wondering if the weed she’s smoking is laced or if she somehow manifested you. Ellie quickly transfers her blunt in one hand and her phone in the other, straining her thumb trying to type as fast as she can to you. 

ellie: oh hdy! 

ellie: hey*

you: dina gave me ur number, i hope that’s okay 

ellie: yeah ofc it is :-)

ellie: i was planning on giving it to you

Ellie typed that half-lie slowly, weighing how true it really was as she pressed send. It was on her plan of things she’d like to do before dying, but even then she doesn’t think she would ever gain the courage. 

you: oh thank god

you: i thought i might be intruding 🙁

ellie: never, what’s up?

you: can i ask you something?

ellie: yes of course aks me anythign

ellie: ask* anything* shut sorry

ellie: SHIT

you: lmao are you okay??

ellie: yeah… forget about that, ask away

you: well i was wondering if you could help me study? im failing my anatomy class..

you: if u can’t it’s okay though!

A sheepish grin spreads across Ellie’s face, as she thinks about all the scenarios that could lead to. To think she’d finally have an excuse to see you after weeks of hoping, of praying for the opportunity. You asked her for help instead of taking other options, especially considering how much easier it would’ve been for you to. 

ellie: its no problem, id be glad to help :-)

you: really?? ur a lifesaver els, tysmm

you: when are you free?

ellie: Right now.

ellie: or whenever .

you: let’s meet at the library in 20?

Almost instantly, Ellie’s excitement warps into anxiety. She wasn’t particularly ready to see you and twenty minutes doesn’t seem like nearly enough time to get her shit together. She thought you’d ignore her impulsive desperation of “right now” and set plans for a later date, but, alas, you didn’t.

Ellie rubs her forehead with her blunt holding hand, trying to scratch the itch of her worries away with just her pinky and thumb. Despite her increasing knowledge of you over the past few weeks, she was still incredibly nervous to be around you. 

Ellie takes one final hit of her joint before snuffing it out in a doob tube on her nightstand. She sets her guitar against her bed and nearly falls off trying to get up in a rush, even though she has more than enough time to get ready. 

She stumbles around the room to put something on, settling with a gray hoodie and a pair of jeans. She attempts to keep her balance as she hastily shoves each leg through her pants; simultaneously eyeing around her room in an attempt to remember where exactly she put her anatomy textbooks. 

Ellie hears a familiar ding from her bed and she snaps towards it to pick up her phone, peering at the screen.

you: ellie?

Ellie curses under her breath, scolding herself for forgetting to text you back. She taps on the keyboard, quickly making sure she doesn’t manage another typo before hitting send.

ellie: sorry! yeah i’ll see you in twenty!

you: awesome :) 

—

You weren’t ready to see Ellie either, you figured, since it took you hours to actually text her. You made up far-fetched scenarios with the worst outcomes; the one where she immediately deletes your number tormented you for quite a while. Now you’re trudging across campus to meet her, internally at war with your mixed emotions. On one hand you get to hang out with a cute girl and on the other you’re hanging out with a really cute girl. Alone. Zero friends around. 

There’s a chance you two might not have anything to talk about. You guys are only mutual friends after all. Even if you guys somehow manage to start a conversation, what if she comes to not like you by the end of it, or vice versa? Not to mention the window incident you’re both hoping the other forgot. 

You hesitate in your steps as you reach the library doors. It’d only take a few seconds to spin around and walk back, but how could you leave her there? You thoughtlessly chew on your lip, eyes worriedly shifting around. 

You can’t recall any moment you’ve been so anxious about meeting up with a girl before. Not once, not even in a distant memory. You’ve always been the bolder one in your endeavors. The fact that Ellie is the only girl to make you feel this way has to mean something. You slowly pace in front of the doors in an attempt to dissipate your worries, nodding to your inner thoughts and ignoring the probable concerned stares in the distance. You’re the one who invited her, so you’re gonna stick it the fuck through. You couldn’t bail before testing the waters, you’d never forgive yourself.

So you barge into the building, letting the cool air hit your face from the swinging doors; granting you a waft of leather and drying ink. The building was decorated with freakishly tall dark wood bookshelves; so high, there were beige ladders in place to reach the top shelves. As expected, it was quiet, empty and definitely overfunded. Studying has never been your forte and you’ve never stepped in this building; save for a few dance history books. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for everyone else. Thankfully, one pro definitely outweighs those cons. Ellie was going to help you study. Ellie is the reason you’re here at all.

You tidy up your outfit that you diligently put together and roam farther into the library, trying to hold down a smile that’s impossible to hold down. In fact, it completely takes over your face. You need to simmer down your giddiness before you start skipping around. You purse your lips and briefly steady your eyes on the dark, olive carpeted floor ahead of you. 

You head towards the front desk that’s just a sunken step away with the intention of asking for directions to the study hall. An older lady is sitting there, glowering with obvious annoyance definitely because of your loud entry. It’s been ages since you’ve been in the library— your failing grade proves that— and clearly you’ve forgotten all the rules with it.

A flash of guilt passes through you and you force an apologetic smile. She returns it with a grunt and you immediately redirect yourself further into the library; aimlessly in search for the study hall. 

-

You’ve been walking around for a solid five minutes and you swear you’ve passed the same fantasy section a million times now. It’d be smart to text Ellie and tell her you’ll be late, but your ego won’t let you. 

The looming large, ornate bookshelves certainly don’t make it any easier for you to navigate around.

The question of why the school spent so much money on all this occupies your mind as you venture further. You make a turn around a corner you’ve definitely made before, and you sigh at the familiarity of the area in front of you. 

You keep pressing forward anyway, hoping you can manage a new route this time around.

Before you can make another turn, you’re interrupted by drowned footsteps behind you blending into your own, followed by a tap on your shoulder. You flinch at the sudden touch, sharply turning around only to see Ellie looking at you with a downward smile. 

“Lost?” She sarcastically presumes, her viridescent eyes taking in your shocked yet relieved expression. 

You fiddle with the straps of your backpack between your fingers, shyly glancing around you. “No, I was just… looking for more textbooks.” You nod sagely at your own words, as if you’re trying to convince yourself too.

“Oh? Next to—“ The auburn-haired girl squints at the shelf behind you before adorning a wide grin, “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?” 

Your brows raise and you follow her eyes onto the obviously fiction-filled bookcase. “Uh, yeah? I’ve got Professor Snape at four.” 

Ellie narrows her eyes at you in amused disbelief, trying not to laugh at your adorably dorky excuse.

Dramatically sighing in defeat, “Fuck, okay, you got me.” You say lowly, a bashful smile developing on your lips.  

“You passed the study hall five times. I counted.” Ellie goads.

You partially suppress your laugh, mindlessly giving her arm a light smack. “Oh, my god. Don’t tell me that!” 

She dotes on your laughter and your touch; whether it was intentional or not. Either way, she’s feeling good about herself now and her previous worries about this encounter floated away, and you could safely say the same. 

“It’s a good book though, we can go back and get it. No need to be shy about it.” Ellie quips.

“Shush!” 

—

With Ellie as your guide, the trip to the study hall was much easier than you made it out to be. You recognized the big glass windows you passed by often and when you stepped into it, you flushed with embarrassment. It was a direct contrast to the old-fashioned, mahogany colored library you’d been meandering around. 

Ellie really could’ve counted the times you walked by, and she really did. The first time, she thought you must’ve seen a friend and left to catch up with them. However, the second time around she realized you might be lost. 

She was going to text you and tell you to turn around, but she thought it was cute seeing you walk in circles, ignoring literally every sign in your way. By the fourth time, she could tell you thought you were in a time loop and she found it fucking hilarious. Someone like you, seemingly exceptional in everything but directions. The fifth time came and, of course, she decided she was being cruel and had to come help you herself. 

Ellie leads you to the desk where she’s set camp at, and the amount of books and paperwork makes you dizzy. “Jesus, Els. Are you teaching me the entire course?” 

She takes a seat before giving you an answer, “Well.. That depends on how bad you’re failing.” 

You take a seat across from her, setting your backpack on the floor before resting your forearms on the oak table. “My teacher said I was dumb as fuck and essentially called me a homophobic slur.” You’re exaggerating, obviously, but that was exactly what it felt like.

Ellie scoffs out a sound, unsure of whether to laugh or be offended for you. “Damn... It’s Bill, isn’t it? God, that guy is a fuckin’ prick.” She questions, clearly unsurprised by his actions.

You sit upright in your chair, relief shining through your words, “Yes! Is that his thing?” 

Ellie casually leans back, thinking back to when she was a student of his. “Oh, yeah. He’s a blunt guy, shitty filter,” She continues, and somehow you’re both meeting each other’s looks, “But he’s fair with his grades, n’ I know it doesn’t make it any better, but he has a husband. He’s just… old.. and grumpy.”

You try to consider that he is letting you retake a major grade. You guess you could appreciate that somewhat. “True... still, the comment was unprovoked. You must know him well though?” 

“Yeah, I took his class last year. We were at each other's throats about coursework n’ shit. Really hard to reason with that guy.” Ellie purposely leaves out the part where she was being unreasonable too, but only for the sake of storytelling, of course. “Then that summer, I saw him at a family gathering.” She finishes off with a dramatic shiver in disgust and you laugh at how endearing it was. 

“Anyways, his gaydar is somethin’ else. I can never tell.” She admits, carelessly waving a hand in the air. Ellie’s radar in particular is broken. Shattered, even. She can’t keep track of the amount of times she has stood in the shower, realizing a girl was flirting with her only days later. 

“Even with me?” 

“Even with you...” She speaks with artificial sadness and a slight sulk.

“Ouch… I’m wounded.” You fake a frown, slightly dropping your shoulders.

Ellie’s eyes fall to your nails; some suspiciously shorter than the others, and all painted in your favorite color. “But… that I know for sure, I can definitely tell.” Ellie comments.

 A swarm of butterflies suddenly parade your belly, and you shine a coy smile her way. “They’re not short because of that…” Your half-hearted attempt to defend yourself drips in the lightness of your voice.

Ellie briefly raises her eyebrows with a sly smile plastered on her face, folding her arms over her chest; which, unbeknownst to you, was to shield how hard her heart was thumping. She’s shocked she hasn’t turned into a pile of mush yet, probably thanks to her smoke session earlier.

“I’m serious! I keep my hands to myself.” You continue on, putting in a little effort in your voice for your defense this time. For the most part it is true, lately your mind has been on Ellie, and Ellie only. The thought of random flings didn't excite you, but she did. However, it wasn’t not true that you’ve had a fair share of hookups. You’re in an art school, how could you not? 

“C’mon, just yourself? I’m sure you've cared to share.” Ellie playfully pokes around you with her words; nonchalant and prone for a reaction. 

Your jaw slightly drops, making your head tilt to the side incredulously. “Wow. What makes you think that?”

Ellie unfolds her tattooed arm to rub her palm against the back of her neck, responding unexpectedly timid, “Hey, ‘m not blind. I know you’re popular.” 

You snicker at her explanation and shake your head. “They’re friends. You can be friends with girls even if you’re gay, Ellie.”

“Friends don’t touch you like that.” She notes with an uncharacteristically stern expression.

It surprises you for a second, but all it makes you wanna do is poke fun, tease her, and see where it’d go. “Like what?”

Ellie sighs, reluctantly explaining further, “Like they’ve touched you before.”

“Straight girls are touchy.” You shrug, purposefully ignoring what she tried to imply. 

The way you said it so matter-of-factly makes Ellie’s eyes roll. “You know I don’t mean it like– ugh, my judgment is usually fucked up, but that? That I can tell the difference with.” Ellie states with surety.

You narrow your gaze at her, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “What are you jealous or something?” 

“Of you or the girls?” 

“Oh, the girls were an option?” You playfully remark, but also with honest curiosity in how she’d answer. 

Ellie clears her throat and leans forward to place her textbooks into view, trying to hide the blush spreading across her features. She’s not doing a great job at it and you’d love to tease her some more, but you can settle with taking the win for now. 

—

Night crept up faster than you both anticipated, the ambient sounds of paper printing and carts rolling by were no longer prevalent. The only thing filling the room is the buzz of the light fixture above and the words you two exchange. The table is cluttered with Ellie’s open notes and some textbooks with neon page markers poking out the sides. It wasn’t organized by any means, but it was a mess you both found easy to work around. 

Surprisingly, Ellie is a great tutor. When she saw your paper, she didn’t make fun of you like you thought she would. Instead, she expressed how grating it is to remember all that crap and you shouldn’t give yourself a hard time over it. 

To help you memorize the muscles of the body, you guys settled on one area and made up silly rhymes for it. She tried to argue that brachiosaurus was perfect for brachialis even though it didn’t even rhyme. You even gave her the chance to pick a different one, but then she said brachyceratops with a mockingly straight face and you knew she couldn’t be trusted for the task anymore.

The air between you two wasn’t stuffy or silent like you feared it’d be. Ellie made you laugh, not in the breathy forced way you’ve unknowingly gotten used to making. 

She made sure you listened to her tips & tricks, made you review your mistakes so you wouldn’t repeat them again.

You hadn’t picked up your phone for anything other than to google things on the subject, and your ringer? Off. Your attention never strayed far from her. That made her undeniably nervous– sweaty, and hard for her to breathe normally, but she could  acknowledge how well she was doing.

Ellie’s head is dipped down to a paper you two were working on and you’re openly ogling, wondering how she’d look in a pair of glasses. Flipping through papers, tapping the back of a pen on her inviting lips. You tell yourself you snap back to reality before your mind strays any further. 

“If we keep this up, you’ll remember it all in no time” She encourages, eyes still glued on the paper. Secretly, she hopes it takes a little longer. Just a little.

“Thanks for helping me out, Els.” You say, face tilted into the palm of your hand. 

Ellie looks up from the paper to give you a smile, but she doesn’t hold her gaze for long. A millisecond later and her blush would have you thinking she had a sudden, terrible fever. 

“It’s no problem. It helps me out too.” Ellie points to the examples she sketched out for you with her pencil. She pauses before speaking again, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in her mouth, “Can I ask you something?” 

Studying her expectantly, you lift your head off your hand. “Yeah?” 

Ellie fidgets with her pencil, trying to muster up courage. Her mouth feels dry trying to push out the words. “I’m also struggling with a class and uh,” she twirls her pencil in one hand, tucking a sliver of her hair behind her ear with the other, “I was wondering if you could be the model for my art final?” Her question came out whinier than she’d like it to, making her freckled-face wince. 

You can sense how nervous she is about asking, but you can’t place your finger on why she ever would be. This is the first time anyone has ever asked you something like this, so in your mind it’s nothing but exciting, especially coming from her. You can already imagine yourself sitting prettily still while Ellie studies you and paints long, fancy strokes on a yellow canvas. “Ellie, are you kidding? I’d love to.” 

Her lashes flutter in disbelief, “Really?”

“You’re helping me, so why not? It’s fair.”

“It’s kind of a weird thing to ask. I mean, we barely know each other.” Ellie murmurs, unaware that you have absolutely no idea what she’s on about. 

You lift a brow at her. “We will eventually, right? What’s weird about a portrait anyways?” 

“It’s not a portrait… Well, I guess it is–“ Ellie sighs into her palm, “I’m drawing you, but…” She cringes before she can finish her sentence. 

“A portrait in pencil? What am l missing?” You slowly question. 

“Think Titanic.” She grimaces as she waits for your reaction, trying not to bang her head on the table for picking Titanic of all movies. 

“Titanic? What does that have to do with…” Your voice trails off, quieting down so you can process what Ellie said. Think Titanic. It's hard for you to connect what the 1997 romance movie had to with this, but when it connected, it connected. The infamous drawing scene was memorable. You’re in awe, not quite sure how to react. 

“You don’t have to be fully… y’know..” Ellie insists. 

Your face is still unreadable, as if you're lost in thought, and it’s freaking her out. Too many what-ifs are going through her head, all of them gradually getting worse the longer you stay silent. She thinks she got too close to the sun when she had more than enough warmth. She's already preparing herself for rejection, worryingly scouting your face for a hint of revulsion; however, it never comes.

“Oh. Okay.” You calmly respond with a shrug, your face still unreadable; the only difference being a light smile. You could’ve thought about it longer, but you’re so flattered Ellie wants you to pose for her that you rather worry about it later. She wants to sketch your body onto paper. Yours. It sounds vulnerable and a little nerve wracking, but she’s your friend. A friend you have a crush on, sure, but you wouldn’t want to inconvenience her over it. Plus, you owe her now. Really, you’re purely being selfless. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Okay?” Ellie repeats to make sure she was hearing things right.

“Like I said, you’re doing this for me, so I’ll do it for you.” You reassure, gesturing around to the study session laid across the table. 

“Are you sure? You know I’ll still tutor you, even if you say no–”

“— Do you not want me to?” You pout your lips, hoping she hasn't changed her mind already.

“Are you shitting me? Of course I do. I just… didn’t expect you to say yes.” Ellie finally says, absolutely dumbfounded given her hand movements. 

You laugh melodically, “Didn’t think that far, huh?” 

“Nope.” She answers with a cute embarrassed smile, her blood rushing to her face. 

Your phone buzzes, probably a text or notification. You reach out and shove a few papers to the side to get to it before taking a look, only for your eyes to be drawn to the time. “Shit. It’s late. I think the library closes soon…” You murmur regretfully, feeling all too comfortable where you were.

Ellie presses her tongue against her cheek in annoyance, upset that time dared to pass by as fast as it did. “We should get going then, I guess.” She says dejectedly, not wanting to leave you just yet. 

You peep her suddenly gray aura and smile warmly towards her. “Can you walk me back to my dorms?”

She nods with subtle enthusiasm and pushes out of her seat, immediately packing all her belongings to join your side. “Yes! — I mean, sure. Yeah.”

—-

The lamp post lights are warm and waning, complimenting the shadows on both your faces. You two walk down the dark flagstone path towards the housing area, chatting about nothing. It’s nice to be able to spend a little more time with her before the night is over. Unfortunately, you guys were drawing closer and closer to your dorm and the feeling of loss came as quick as it left. 

“Hey, Els?” 

She glanced at you and hummed in response, giving you the signal to continue. “I was wondering if you were gonna be at some party tomorrow? Apparently Dina’s co-hosting it.”

Ellie looks at you quizzically before looking off elsewhere to think. “Why the fuck would they party on a Sunday?”

You snort out a laugh before lifting and dropping your shoulders, “I don’t know, senioritis or something. Will you come though?”

“Mhm, I’ll be there.” She smiles as she speaks, loving how your face lit up by the end of it. Ellie isn’t too fond of parties, but for you? She can make an exception.

You cheer in a whisper tone and it makes Ellie smile harder, her features creasing in adoration. You two finally approach your dorm building. You walk up a step before turning to wave goodbye. She raises a palm in return and you flash her a smile that makes her heart leap before turning into the building.

If Ellie couldn’t tell before, she’s completely enamored by you. 

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a/n: fuck jk rowling but i rlly couldnt think of any other commonly known fantasy book :/

taglist: @bready101 @pascals-doll @macaroni676 @khai-le @pedropascalsbbg @seraphicsentences @starlight-savegery @snowy-vee @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @a-little-bit-of-everybody @elliesactualgirlfriend

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #ᝰ like a french girl

[bandgie]

The Other Ωmega

Changbin x fem!reader

warnings: MDNI 18+, anal (m!), omegaverse!!, changbin lies about being an alpha hehe, brief fingering (m!), handjob, blowjob, v slight cum eating, omegaxomega, cheating scare but everyone is loyal!, feminization (I think?), vague overstim mentions (m!) notes!:  this is an omegaverse fic! here is some info about that universe :)

2.3k words

From: Bin<3

sorry baby! I think im in a rut won't be able to go out tonight :((

Maybe you should be more understanding, but you can't find any compassion as you read the text message. What kind of alpha doesn't want to hang out with their omega when they're in a rut? You huff and don't reply, setting your phone on the floor.

Your makeup was already done and you spent the entire night before picking your outfit. Changbin is a caring lover, but he always avoids you when his rut starts. At first, you thought it was because he was being careful, but it's been nearly half a year and he still hasn't let you near during that time.

Picking up your phone, you message your friend.

he blew me off again

Felix replies almost immediately.

From: lixiepixie!

that bitch, dump him

From: You

don't be dumb. he said he's in a rut or whatever

From: lixiepixie!

I hate to say it, but do you think he's seeing someone else? bcuz it doesn't make sense that he wouldn't want to see you when he's like that unless...

Anything you were planning to type dies in your mind. Seeing someone else? No, no way. Changbin loves you, adores you even. There's never been a moment when you've thought otherwise, but reading Felix's messages puts disturbing doubts in your mind.

From: You

no, that's not it

From: lixiepixie!

then just show up at his place! he's an alpha, he'll be happy to see you. hes prolly just nervous about fucking you while hes in a rut for the first time

That makes more sense to you. After all, it would be a waste to have put on your best makeup just for no one to see. You shoot a quick text to Changbin telling him you hope he feels better before getting dressed. A part of you is nervous about showing up, Changbin is so keen on making sure you two are separate during his rut. You wonder if he gets overly dominant. If he would manhandle you into the position he wants before taking you. 

The thought excites you and a feeling of pleasure tightens in your stomach. Changbin might be a completely different lover in bed when he's in a rut, but you're an omega. His omega. Everything about you is built for him. You can take it.

You know where Changbin keeps his spare key to the front door. It's all too simple to call it breaking and entering as you lift the fake plant pot on the front porch and stick it in the keyhole. You're nearly buzzing with excitement as you take the first few steps into his place.

The smell hits you immediately. 

It's not the musky scent you're used to, but a sweet fragrance that forces its way into your lungs. Your body responds quicker than your brain. Carnal desire begins to fill your body in an almost uncomfortable way. Your breathing grows ragged, and your heart rate increases. 

Another omega is here, and they're in heat.

You push away your bodily reactions to march deeper into his house, ignoring how the first signs of arousal drip down your thighs. The closer you get to Changbin's room, the stronger the smell gets. You're not even his front door yet and you can hear him. The way he moans whimpers, cries out.

Anguish clenches your heart, but you mask it with fury as you swing the door open. "Who the fuck- Oh...Oh."

In hindsight, maybe it should be just Changbin in the room, but you hardly feel gratitude when you see your lover completely nude on his back, legs spread with a dildo between them. He noticed you, he made eye contact with you, but his hand keeps pumping the silicone cock in and out of his ass. 

"B-baby?" His hazy eyes regard you in the doorway. "Mmm my baby, want my baby." The pace he's set for himself falters, using one hand to reach out to you. Changbin's eyes are needy and filled with raw desire. You don't think twice when you walk to him, standing beside the bed. 

You take his hand in yours, feeling his burning skin. His palms are sweaty on your own as you gently sit on the bed. 

"Binnie?" Your voice is filled with confusion. "W-what's going on?" To answer your question, Changbin takes his hand holding yours to his mouth. He kisses and nips your skin, moaning at your taste. The feeling of his tongue makes you gasp, chills breaking out across your body. 

With the pheromones suffocating you in his room, you don't know how much longer you'll last. You want nothing more than to hop on his fat cock that leaks on his tummy. It takes immense strength to keep eye contact on his flustered face. 

Changbin pops one of your fingers in his mouth, swirling the digit around his tongue. "Mmf tastes so good. Baby, you taste so good." The squelching of his dildo grows louder as he quickens his wrist. "Fuck I...I need you."

You'll argue with him another time. The smell of him overtakes your sense and mind as you place yourself in front of his bent legs, The pretty dress you put on for your date night hikes up to your thighs. Changbin vibrates with need as you take the toy in your grasp and begin to pull it out.

"No!" He shouts. "Don't pull it out! Keep it in. Please please please please."

But you have to pull it out. You have to see the way his ass eagerly clenches onto the toy as you slide it out. How his gaping hole pulses around nothing once you've completely removed it. Changbin whines and picks his head up, eyes teary and lips pouting.

The sight of his lower half makes your mouth water, salvia pooling in your mouth at his pretty rim. "Ohhh," you sigh dreamily. "You have such a pretty pussy, my Binnie."

Changbin squeals when your warm fingers rub against his wetness. His arousal gathers on your digits, leaking from his ass. 

"Nuh-uh," your alpha- no. Your omega shakes his head. "N-not true." Changbin bites his lower lip in concentration as he forms his words. "Binnie's baby has the prettiest pussy."

His slurred words make you smile, pressing your middle finger slightly into his entrance. "Why did you hide this from me, hm?" You pull your finger away to give gentle slaps to his rim. The light impact makes Changbin's hips jolt upwards, and whines leave his lips. "You know I already love your cock. I'd love your pussy too."

The way Changbin keeps moaning makes you rub your thighs together. You can feel how sticky your underwear has gotten from watching his true state. You prod his entrance with the tip of the dildo, using your free hand to spread one of his cheeks for viewing. 

"Gonna...gonna make me feel good?" Changbin frames it in a question.

Your boyfriend always knows how to make you feel good, but you're not sure if you can do the same. You're not an alpha. You're not used to being on the giving end of relationships, but Changbin's so good to you. Making sure your heat is taken care of while he was an omega himself the entire time. 

"I'll try, baby," you don't sound too confident. "Binnie's baby is gonna try, okay?" With that, you press the dildo deeper inside him. Changbin reactions are immediate, lips forming a silent 'o' shape as his eyebrows pinch together. He groans as you settle the toy deep until the sack touches his ass. You gently pull it back and in a few inches, trying to set a pace.

Every time you move the silicone even an inch, the sounds of Changbin's slick resonates throughout his room. His arousal clings to the toy and drips down his ass. You use your finger to swipe the essence and place the sticky subtle in your mouth. 

The taste settles over your tongue and you moan. Everything about Changbin at this moment screams omega, and you don't know how you didn't notice it before. His plump chest, his short stature, the roundness of his ass. All the signs were there, yet it took you fucking a dildo into him to realize his true nature. 

"God. You take cock so well," you're filled with awe at the sight of Changbin's rim swallowing the fake dick easily. The throbbing between your legs grows unbearable, but you have to ignore it. You busy the hand on his ass to reach towards his aching cock. 

It throbs in your hand and Changbin cries out. Who knows how many times he's cum before you showed up, but his entire being is begging to be fucked until he can't take it. You know the feeling all too well, and you're more than happy to help.

The sound of Changbin's drenched cock mixes with the sound his the dildo in his ass. Your fist becomes wet immediately, only encouraging you to stroke him at an unforgiving pace. With a tight grip, you pull his skin down to expose his sensitive head. White goo leaks from his tip, slinging down until it drips down his soft stomach. 

"Ooo, oh! Like that! Just like that, baby," Changbin muffles his words into the pillow beside him. 

With your thumb, you rub the pad of your digits over his slit. His pre-cum sticks to your skin, connecting it to his tip. You swirl it around his flushed head until he squirms, hips bucking to shy away from your overwhelming touch. 

"You keep moving," you tut playfully. "How am I supposed to make you cum?"

Changbin whines in response, thighs shaking as he tries his best to stay still for you. "I'm good. I'll be good, baby. Don't stop." His compliance makes you smile and you reward him by wrapping your soft lips around his pink tip. 

The sound he makes is closer to a howl than a moan. His stomach tenses at the feel of your hot mouth, spurting more salty release on your tongue. You suck softly on him, making sure you get a taste of his natural tang. Changbin digs his heels into the matter as your mouth hollows, creating a powerful suction for his cock.

The dildo in your hand falters, slowing its pace so you could focus on sucking your boyfriend off. Even then, you swear you can feel his hole clenching on the toy, trying to get the tip of the silicone to touch the womb deep in his stomach. 

"Oh my god. Oh my god," Changbin's voice is strained. He lifts his head to watch how your head slowly bops up and down his shaft, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth. You focus your gaze upwards, locking eyes with him. With his attention on you, you try your best to shove his entire shaft down your throat. Though Changbin doesn't necessarily have much length, it's his thickness you struggle with. It feels like the corners of your mouth might tear with how much you open up for him.

It looks as though Changbin has hearts in his eyes, jaw slightly open as he moans at the sight of you engulfing him "So pretty. My baby's so pretty. Love you. I love my pretty baby, oh fuck..." he mindlessly babbles. 

If you could, you'd coo at his incoherent words. You show your gratitude by pulling the dildo a few inches out before ramming it back in. Changbin yelps at the sudden movement, but his hips quickly rock with your thrusting. 

You manage to set a doable pace for yourself. Sucking him in until his curly pubes touch your nose while you fuck the toy shallowly in him. Soft gags and muffled moans elapse your mouth as you try to swallow your omega whole, but Changbin seems to find pleasure in it nonetheless. 

His stubby cock twitches in your mouth and his chest heaves as his orgasm approaches. 

Quickly, you replace your mouth with your hand, stroking him in quick jerks while you have better agility to thrust the toy inside him. You swear you could see the tip of the cock poke from underneath the belly of his skin, touching the deepest parts of him you have yet to explore yourself.

Little gasps and cries leave his pretty lips, and this time, you do have the opportunity to coo at Changbin. "Look at you. So good for me. Gonna cum all over yourself again?" 

Changbin tries to nod, but it looks like his head just flops around. You find his attempt endearing. "It's okay, Binnie. You can cum as much as you want. I know you need it."

"Need it," he agrees, eyes screwed shut. "Need it so bad." You watch as his eyebrows come together. His dildo tears from your grip as his hips entirely buck off the bed when he cums, hot spurts of release reaching all the way up to his plump chest. Changbin lets out a series of choked moans, and though you're not getting any action yourself, you moan with him. 

His legs tremble as he keeps himself lifted, the final bursts of cum dribbling down his shaft before he finally collapses. His pants fill the room and you gently remove the silicone from him.

You pull it slowly to not hurt him, but you enjoy how Changbin shivers and groans when the last inches of the cock slip out of him. You raise the soaked toy in front of you, intrigued by the white cream that settles at the base. 

Yeah, he's an omega all right.

Changbin's labored breathing slowly returns to normal and his tired arms lift to make grabby-hands at you. You try not to smile at his adorable gesture, "You know you're gonna hear it from me in the morning, right?" But you snuggle beside him anyway, bringing your face into the crook of his neck where his pheromones make your head spin. 

"Binnie's sorry," he murmurs, wrapping one of his nude legs over your waist to bring you closer. 

"Mhm. Binnie's gonna be sorry all right."

You decide he'll make up for your neglected cunt all morning tomorrow...or maybe all day.

a/n: omg I have no idea how this will preform but I had so many different ideas in mind, but I decided to go with this one. I was originally gonna do an orgy with omega reader and omega Changbin and the rest of the boys alphas ahaha but damn, i couldn't muster the energy. enjoy this tho! thank you :)

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz changbin #changbin smut #changbin stray kids #seo changbin #stray kids changbin #changbin #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #omegaverse #omega x omega #changbin fluff

[snowsonlylove]

hii!! i commented about making a fic of coryo w or about the song haunted by beyonce, i was thinking maybe something smut if ur comfortable! if not its okay but the fic could be academy!coriolanus x academy!reader and theyre school rivals both working hard to beat each other and theyre obsessed with each other but they hide it with the fact they wanna win but they j wanna fuck (or get together) maybe theyre both possessive and jealous or coryo is the one thats really extra with it,, the story could go rlly slow too and then theres just a part where the facade and tension goes away and theyre needing each other so badly at that moment rushing everything, just like how the song goes idk if i made any sense :o im so excited to see the result!! this song just gives me coriolanus vibes

You Must Be Haunting Me..

a/n note: hii!! yes, i loved your idea and i mostly stayed with your vision, only changing some minor things so the situation makes sense and dw i managed to deliver 🫡 hopefully you like it!! tysm for your idea and i look forward to seeing if there are some things you want to expand on (maybe with little blurbs on this dynamic bc i absolutely LOVE this trope!) & i'm totally comfortable with smut so dw about sending me kinky asks or requests. i totally accept them!!

Pairing: Academy!Coriolanus Snow x AcademyRival!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been academic rivals ever since the beginning of their journey in the Academy. It’s no secret that both Y/N and Coriolanus are the two top students of the Academy, both of them only being able to beat each other, the rest are just no competition for them. However, they genuinely have no idea why they're doing this constant battle against each other. Little did they know, both of them always think about each other behind closed doors and are obsessed with each other, each equally impressed at the other at how intelligent they are. One day, things just boil over with how Coriolanus constantly riles Y/N up and they explode in a huge fight which results in a turmoil of deep, rough and passionate sex. 

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Enemies to Lovers trope, dramatic behaviour from both of them, a wee bit of angst (mostly derived from the name-calling but in my head this is more funny than it is angsty 😭😭😭)

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this guys, use a condom. reader is on birth control), rough pushing, harsh words used from both Y/N and Coriolanus, degradation (use of whore), cunnilingus (female receiving), squirting, lmk if i missed anything else

Word Count: 2k

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Beyonce and her team. 

I do not allow my works to be republished or translated under any circumstances. Any instances of this happening and YOU WILL BE BLOCKEDDD. 

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow began this disastrous journey from the age of 11-12. Both students entered the Academy with an air of poise and elitism about them as they knew what it took to defeat the competition in the Academy, most students not even being a possible candidate to them. It was all fine and well, until one year, Y/N and Coriolanus were put in the same class for the year, and the rivalry then started..

The first assignment of that year was an individual project on what each student thought the Capitol looked like during its earliest times. Each student was tasked with coming up with a drawing with their thoughts on said topic. This was their chance to go up against each other. Both Y/N and Coriolanus would stay up in the library after school and collect piles of books and do their research and by the time the task was due, Y/N and Coriolanus obviously submitted the best sketches.

After acknowledging this, the professor asked the class to vote for who’s sketch was the best. Small pieces of paper were given out to write either Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s names and as the professor then collected the papers, making both students anxious. As the professor counted the votes, Y/N’s heart was beating out of her chest, Coriolanus’s as well. It was then announced that Y/N won, which made Coriolanus furious as he spewed a full speech on how much he hated her. “You’d never be as good as what they say you are. You’re just dirt under my feet. God! You’re such a bitch!” He screamed as the professor and the class started at him in astonishment as they’ve never seen him lash out before.

Y/N was heartbroken when she heard this as sometimes when Coriolanus wasn’t looking, Y/N would sneak glances towards him and she started to be enamoured by him. Their time together after hours in the library would usually end up in them having conversations about their day and this time together helped them bond better. With this in mind, Y/N truly thought Coriolanus was at least civil enough to be respectful towards her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes as she ran out of the classroom, the professor telling her to wait.

Coriolanus, still blind with rage, kept on screaming and yelling obscenities about Y/N as he stormed off to his seat, his face red and his whole demeanour fueling with rage. Unfortunately, this fateful day was what started the vicious rivalry between Y/N and Coriolanus as the two would fight over who got the better grades, which teacher favoured which student more, the differences in their scores in each assignment every single day.

As of current, both Y/N and Coriolanus are 18 and in the midst of graduating. One of their last assignments was unfortunately a pair assignment. Dr Gaul once scoped out the Academy and witnessed one of the fights between Y/N and Coriolanus and she noticed how by getting them near each other, she could make them into the power couple of Panem and have them continue the Hunger Games, which inspired her to whisper in the ear of Dean Highbottom to get them to be in the same class and for them to share a table together until they graduated. Both Y/N and Coriolanus were very unhappy about this, both choosing to ignore each other while they were in their seats. 

With both of them getting older, both Y/N and Coriolanus started noticing certain things about them. Coriolanus noticed how Y/N’s facial features were more prominent, how her ass got bigger, her breasts more plump, making him unable to control a certain urge at times which led him to mastrubate thinking about her sometimes. Y/N also noticed a few things about Coriolanus. How he started to grow muscles, how they cling to his academy uniform whenever he took off his academy jacket, how his jaw was sharper, how his nose was becoming more emphasised, how he lost his baby fat. She can honestly go forever and forever about how attractive he is.

That being said, there was one particular day where everything just blew over the water. Y/N and Coriolanus were taking notes during Dean Highbottom’s lecture when Y/N felt Coriolanus’s elbow dig into her arms whenever they got to writing. This obviously made Y/N frustrated as she harshly whispered to Coriolanus to stop a few times, which led to a hushed debate between the two before it grew louder and louder until they were screaming at each other, making the whole class look at them and Dean Highbottom staring at them in shock before yelling for them to stop and stay after class for detention.

Both Y/N and Coriolanus felt embarrassed as they were lectured by Dean Highbottom after class before an assistant of Dean Highbottom requested him to join Dr Gaul for a meeting about the Hunger Games. Dean Highbottom sighed as he looked at the two young teenagers, “Look.. I feel that you two are now old enough to know what is acceptable behaviour in class. I’ll be back soon, do not kill each other while I’m gone.” As Highbottom left the classroom, the tense atmosphere began to build as the door closed behind him.

Almost immediately after he left, Y/N and Coriolanus stared at each other with the most hateful expression ever. Y/N menacingly glared at him while saying with gritted teeth, “See, Coriolanus! If you’re long ass elbow didn’t fucking dig in my arm every single time, that old fart wouldn’t lecture us for one fucking hour! My god, you’re truly dumb!” Coriolanus glared at her before stating, “It’s not my fucking fault that happened with you were taking over the whole goddamn table with your arms everywhere! Geez, Y/N! I thought you’d be more modest!”

Y/N looked at him, shocked, “ME?!! You’re blaming ME for something YOU did! That is so fucking misogynistic coming from you, a man! I swear to god, this is discrimination towards women at its core! Grow the fuck up, Coriolanus! We’re not children anymore! God! I’d be spending my time with Sejanus right now if it weren’t for your stubborn ass!” Y/N huffed while rolling her eyes. Coriolanus stared at her, his face full of jealousy before gritting out, “Sejanus? What the fuck are you doing with Sejanus?! You’re such a fucking whore! Ugh, you’re such a bitch!” Y/N looked at him, offended, “Bitch, weren’t you just fucking Clemensia a few weeks ago? Yeah, I heard about that! Everyone was practically talking about it! Don’t pretend to be so innocent, Coriolanus!”

Coriolanus looked at her, his expression turned dark as he stalked towards her, her taking a step back until her back had hit the wall. Coriolanus leaned towards her, lifting one of his arms to go above her, bringing the other hand towards her chin and lifting it. At this point, the height difference became very apparent as her head was tipped far back, her still glaring at him. “Are you baiting me, Y/N? You talk so much for someone who just fucked Felix Ravinstill of all people a few days ago..” Y/N continued to glare up at him, “At least I had the decency to keep it in my pants longer than you! God, I hate you!” Coriolanus looked taken aback as he muttered while leaning in to cup her cheeks, her face wiggling to be let out of his grip, “Well, I hate you too, sweetheart…” 

Coriolanus leaned in as he captured Y/N’s lips with his, their mouths fighting for dominance as they kissed each other as if they needed each other to breathe. The previous tension broke into a more sensual type of tension as Coriolanus wrapped his hands around her hair ravenously while Y/N’s hand made friends with the back of his neck. One of Coriolanus’s hands found its way to Y/N’s waist as he dragged her away from the wall, pushing her towards a nearby desk before propping her up on the desk and spreading her legs, allowing him to be closer to her, not once breaking their kiss. Y/N broke their kiss as she moved her lips to Coriolanus’s neck and trailed them down his Adam’s apple while taking off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt, Coriolanus doing the same to her.

As they undressed each other, they continued to slide their tongues against each other, the sound echoing around the classroom. They managed to undress each other down to them both only wearing underwear before Coriolanus kneeled down so that he was face to face with the apex of her thighs. Coriolanus leaned in and captured his teeth to her underwear as he slowly pulled it down, revealing her aching, dripping pussy. Coriolanus licked his lips as he roughly shoved two fingers in her cavern as he curled his fingers in and out her folds, creating a beautiful sensation as he found her G-spot with no difficulty.

Y/N moaned as she threw her head back and slid her hands down to Coriolanus’s hair and tugged on it while pulling him closer to her heat. “Oh my gosh.. Coryo, it feels so good…” As he kept pumping his fingers in and out of her, he suddenly attached his lips onto her clit as he sucked on her clit and pumped his fingers harder, each movement feeling more and more intense for Y/N. He kept on going as he curled his fingers one final time, which made Y/N yell out as she squirted and covered his fingers with her wetness.

Y/N sighed in satisfaction as she helped Coriolanus up and gave him a deep, passionate kiss while tugging down his underwear and hooking her legs on the bottom of his back, Coriolanus leaned in closer as he aligned his erection with her heat, tapping his dick on her clit a few times before pushing his hardness in her heat. He only pushed in half of it when Y/N suddenly exclaimed, “Coryo, it’s too much! I can’t take all of it!” 

Coriolanus leaned down so his forehead was laying against hers before whispering in a comforting tone, “It will fit, Y/N. Trust me, trust me..” He closed his eyes as he leaned in to capture her lips with his as he pushed in slower this time, now being able to fill her pussy with his cock to the point where their hips were against each other. Coriolanus groaned as he slowly pulled out before thrusting in again, “Fuck, Y/N… You’re so good. Such a good girl..” 

Y/N moaned at hearing him praise her as he started to thrust his dick in faster, each time harder and rougher than the last. The room started to echo with the sound of her moaning, his groaning and the sound of skin slapping. Y/N closed her eyes as she moaned, her mouth forming an “O” shape as she threw her head back once more and arched her back, needing to feel closer to him. Coriolanus wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her in closer and kissed his way all around her neck, leaving furious red hickeys which would soon turn purple.

The pace in which he was fucking her got rougher each time he would thrust his aching hard dick into her dripping pussy, the slapping sound really turning them on and his balls slapped to her ass, their moans becoming louder and louder each time. The furious force in which he was fucking her started to reach a boiling point as Coriolanus moaned, “Ugh.. I’m fucking cumming, Y/N. Oh.. You’re such a good girl. Such a tight and wet pussy..” 

“Ohh.. Coriolanus… So good, so deep… I’m gonna come, gonna come.. OH MY GODD!!” Y/N screamed as she came. Coriolanus groaned as he came inside her, sighing as he tried to bask in the afterglow of his orgasm, holding Y/N tight against his chest in the process. Y/N left kisses and hickeys around his neck as she looked up at him with a dazed but satisfied expression and kissed his lips however, this time the kiss shared between them wasn’t one full of hate, it was one full of love.

As they pulled away from each other and started to get dressed, Coriolanus faced Y/N and said, “You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve said so.” He said with a smirk. Y/N turned to look at him, acting shocked as she huffed in feign frustration, “Oh shut up, Coriolanus!” She smacked his chest as both of them gave each other a silly grin before hurling in laughter.

#academy!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst

[schlattsdoll]

Imagine going to the streamer awards with Schlatt (you’re not a streamer) and if he wins something then once you all get home he makes you cum as many times as he can as a celebration type thing

celebrate- jschlatt

minors dni

paring: schlatt x fem/afab! reader

warnings: smut {18+}, mentions of overstim, schlatt being a horny mf, overuse of pet names {im sorry}

to be quite honest with you, schlatt didn’t even want to go to the streamies. it wasn’t his scene and he was confident in the fact he wasn’t going to win. what sold him on it was seeing you in a tight dress. he took you shopping that morning, you two decided on wearing purple, the color of royalty as you told him. “makes sense, got my beautiful princess so that makes me a king.”

it was almost time to leave as you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup. “doll, we gotta go.” schlatt held your hand as you slid on your heels and even fixed the buckles for you. the tight sequined dress hugged your curves perfectly, the purple complementing your complexion.

“absolutely stunning.” your boyfriend commented with a wolf whistle. “whaddya say we skip this thing? i could do that thing ya like with my tongue.” he smirked and kissed up your neck. “jay, no. this is a big night for you! we have to go, that’s that.” you pushed the larger man away from you and frantically tried to fix your hair.

the car ride to the venue was so exciting for you. having only been with schlatt a few months, you hadn’t been to a streamers event before. “this is gonna be so fun jay! we’re gonna take pictures and you’re nominated! i think you’re gonna win personally.”

he rolled his eyes at the thought of him winning. “‘m glad you’re excited toots. at least one of us is.” you knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of going out, much rather wanting to spend the night back home in austin with you and jambo instead of being in smoggy old la. “c’mon baby, you’ll have fun trust me.” “i think having you bent over the bed would be more fun but okay.” he muttered under his breath.

you were right of course, sitting at the table with his fellow nominees ted and charlie, he started to loosen up a bit. drinks were flowing, laughs were being had, and schlatt started to ease up. “the nominees for best new podcast are…” ethan nestor started reading out their category. “oooh baby listen up!”

schlatt felt his nerves jump back up, he didn’t care about winning honestly. you were just so excited for him and the guys, he didn’t want to disappoint you.

“and the winners of best new podcast are….” you held schlatts hand tightly with one hand while you bit your nails on the other. “chuckle sandwich!” a camera panned over to your table and the guys all got up to go on stage, right after kissing their dates.

“thank you all so much for this amazing award, i think i speak for all of us when i say we definitely didn’t expect to be nominated let alone win. thank you to the fans for tuning in every week and we hope you keep listening!” ted spoke eloquently, a perfect acceptance speech; short and sweet.

once back at the table, his hand made its way to your thigh. “hey doll, don’tcha think i deserve a winner’s reward when we get back to the hotel?” he whispered in your ear then kissed your neck. his hand rubbed your thigh, inching closer and closer to your core. you squeezed them closer together, attempting to block his hand from his target.

the rest of the event was quite draining. all you could focus on was what schlatt was going to do to you later that evening. finally you got to leave and instead of going to the after party, you faked being sick. “sorry guys, im not feeling so hot. i better sit this one out. jay, you don’t mind not going do you? i feel so bad.” you pleaded with the large man, who knew you were faking it. “yeah guys, let’s do a rain check for next chuckle week. gotta make sure my baby’s feelin’ alright.” schlatt wrapped his jacket around you, and walked you towards his car. “congratulations again guys!”

the drive home was an entirely different vibe, schlatts hand was ghosting against your center, teasing you through your underwear. “couldn’t even wait for me to celebrate with my friends? needed me that badly huh doll?” he smirked at you while his fingers grabbed a hold of your panties and pulled them to the side. “s’fuckin’ wet for me…”

his large digits found their way to your clit, rubbing soft slow circles. “that’s it. atta girl. you looked so pretty tonight sweetheart. wanted to take you into a bathroom and fuck the shit outta ya.” your back arched into the seat at his words. “oh you like that idea don’t you princess? me taking care of this sweet cunt wherever i want it, not caring who sees me with what’s mine.”

his fingers speed up, causing you to grip tighter on the center console, “fuck jay, don’t stop. ‘m gonna cum.” “that’s right, cum for daddy.”

the car stopped moving, pulling into the hotel’s lot where schlatt waited until your orgasm subsided to help you out and into the room. once there, he tossed you onto the bed. “i believe i was promised the thing i like?” you smirked up at him.

dropping down to his knees and taking the headband out of his hair, he pulled you closer to the edge. “i’m a man of my word doll. but i’m gonna make you cum so many times you’re gonna cry.”

and once again, schlatt was a man of his word.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt smut #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt #jschlatt hcs #chuckle sandwich imagine #mcyt imagine

[willowbelle]

im working on my first smut, nervous but excited !

here’s a sneak peek! ◡̈ just a snippet from the middle of the fic.

i should hopefully be posting the whole thing tomorrow !

update: full fic here: A New Routine, A New Man

❤︎ trafalgar law x fem reader ❤︎

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

summary (so far) : law is mysterious (duh) reader is trying to figure him out. law walks in on her showering hehe

cw: so far just finger sucking, kissing, making out, breast play

𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Here it was, the moment you never thought you’d see, your cold, rigid, so-fucking-type-a captain… flustered.

Trafalgar Law’s face was red and bothered, his inked digits now gripping his towel even tighter.

He couldn’t help but stare at you; your wet body, your curves, your breasts, your wet hair, blushing face, it was all too much for him. He hesitantly outstretched his muscular arm, cradling your cheek in his large hand.

You instinctively pressed your face into it, still staring up at him.

“What if I asked you something similar,” he began, stroking your cheek with his thumb, D. The digit makes its way to your lips, rubbing softly against them, silently asking for permission to enter. Law hums as you comply so obediently, opening your cavern for D to explore, sucking on it like candy.

You continue to suckle on his thumb, lust-blown pupils still staring up at him, awaiting his question.

“I’d like to know how long you've been trying to figure out my daily routine, and this,” he emphasized the situation by pressing his thumb harder into your tongue as he speaks, making you squeak, “was it out of pattern?” he smirks, smugness decorating his face.

You gulped, his digit still encased within your mouth.

How did he--? You stopped the thought right then and there, for fuck’s sake, it was Law, with his observant nature, of course he has noticed you eyeing his every move. You were impressed, but not surprised, with how he remained so goddamned unbothered.

Your mind was racing, this smug man before you was the same one who had just been so flustered? But then again, this was more in-character for him than that blushing mess of a man.

“Law…” you started, popping his thumb out of your mouth, “do you want--”

But before you could finish, Law had leaned down and collided his lips with yours.

The kiss was nothing like you imagined, fuck, it was far better than you imagined.

You figured Law would go about romantic and sexual interactions the same way he did everything; calm, cool, and collected, but oh, this kiss was anything but that.

This kiss was a flurry of emotions, lips parting and colliding back together as if one pair were oxygen when the other was suffocating. This kiss was intense, passionate, and lust-filled. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced. His tongue slid across your lips, begging to enter, and you complied, parting your wet lips for him to explore. His hot tongue danced with yours as you moaned into his mouth, begging for more.

Law’s strong hands ravaged your body as he made out with you, trailing up and down your sides, up to your chest to find your breasts, molding them in his big hands, pinching and rolling your hard nipples in between his hardworking, calloused fingertips.

#smut #one piece #one piece smut #one piece x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar law imagine #trafalgar law one shot #trafalgar law one piece #law one piece #one piece imagine #one piece fanfiction #one piece one shot #one piece fic #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar law headcanon #law headcanons #one piece headcanons

[lvrcpid]

wind flower - avatar cast!

includes: gn!reader. fluff FLUFF FLUFF. use of y/n. this was on the forefront of my mind so it’s kinda half assed LMAO. the interview isn’t really in depth.

imagine being apart of the avatar cast and doing an interview with them!

background info!

you were a famous childhood actor. you’ve been obsessed with the idea of being on the big screen since you were 7. luckily enough your parents let you go through with it and you were a big hit! landing shows like greys anatomy, my babysitters a vampire and movies like adventures in babysitting and diary of a whimpy kid.

with age comes venturing out of certain genres. when you turned 18 you ventured into more mature shows and movies. you stared in shows like euphoria, grown-ish, bridgerton and now at 21, your first movie, avatar : the way of water.

when you got the call back for your audition you were bouncing practically through the roof. you loved avatar as a kid and wanted to become an avatar yourself. this was like a dream come true for you.

when you met the cast you were over the moon, they were all so sweet and welcoming. the energy while filming was one you could get used to, especially considering you had 3 more movies to film in the avatar universe.

when you guys wrapped up filming you were really sad but looked forward to the interviews you all could do together! your manager called you and told you that you all were to do an interview with buzzfeed. it wouldn’t be your first rodeo with them.

enough chitchat, let’s get into the interview!

“hi buzzfeed! we’re the cast of avatar: the way of water and we’re here today to answer some questions while playing with puppies!!” you spoke looking to the camera with a smile as you watched the puppies run over everyone’s legs.

(yes i did that buzzfeed interview type cause it’s SO CUTE)

after playing with the puppies for a second it was time for everyone to introduce themselves. you were last and gave a small smile as you waved to the camera “hi im (y/n)(l/n) and i play (c/n)” you said as you picked up a puppy and held it in your arms.

a few questions later and it got to you. you grabbed the piece of paper and read it out loud “who is your character and how would you describe them.” you looked over to bailey who busted out laughing as you did the same. “bailey is such a hater! that’s why i hope the dog pees on you!” you laughed and turned to the camera. “ well i play (c/n), he/she’s jake and neytiri’s oldest son/daughter about 2 years older than neteyam” you pointed to jamie “and how i would describe him/her-“ “sassy!” jack spoke up. “a raging ball of fire” trinity chimed in “i feel so attacked and im mad they’re right!” everyone busted out laughing.

after a few more answers the interview was coming to a close and the director at buzzfeed wanted everyone to give their opinion on the movie and what to look forward to.

“for me” you started “i would say the movie is really about family that’s the biggest component. it touches on a lot of familiar undertones that you really don’t see in a lot of movies like we get to see jake sully as a dad you know” you shifted in your seat before speaking again. “it’s a really good movie that james cameron worked really hard on as well as the cast and everyone behind the scenes and im really excited for everyone to watch it” you smiled as you grabbed another puppy.

“you guys want me to do it- okay fine- thank you to buzz feed! and thank you to these little adorable puppies who are available for adoption if you want a furry companion to watch the movie with. thank you guys again and make sure to go watch avatar: the way of water out in theaters now!! bye!!!” you snuggled the dog before smiling again. the interview coming to a close.

“just so you know. the dog did pee on me.” bailey pulled you to the side and you fell out DYING LAUGHING.

a.n // staring at my inbox while writing this. I PROMISE IM WRITING THEM GUYS im just proof reading a few rn and scheduling them to post okay bye love you mwah

#avatar #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #awotw #jake sully x reader #kiri x reader #loak x reader #neytiri x reader #sully family x reader #tuk avatar #aonung x reader #jake sully #avatar cast

[stayxlix]

Ok ok so feel free to bend and change this request to your liking. I been asking some of my favorite writers to try this request to see what they can come up with and I’m excited to see what you can do with this.

I was wondering if I can request a Felix story. Where y/n is dating hyunjin felix best friend and Felix at the beginning feels really guilty for liking her so much and always thinking about her. And one time when hyunjin leaves the reader and Felix alone, Felix snaps and kisses her which kinda freaks her out so he has no choice but to kidnap her because of his own jealousy and want. It’s a yandere type of story. If you don’t feel comfortable writing something that I request you can totally bend the story to your liking to feel more comfortable. Thank you ❤️

a/n: hiii<33 here it is FINALLY!!! i have to admit a yandere concept is something i had never thought about writing myself but im so happy you requested this type of concept because stepping out of my comfort zone is something i really enjoy, and i did take your input to shape the story in a way that felt comfortable for me.<3 im so thankful that you chose to trust me with your request, and that you consider me one of your favorite writers.🤗💕i really hope it lives up to expectations.🤭 (also i apologize in advance for the abrupt ending, that is the part i struggled with most so please forgive me for the massive cliffhanger🥹).

wc: 3.8k

pairing: yandere!felix x reader (f), hyunjin x reader (f)

warnings: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, male masturbation, 18+ **minors do not interact**, please lmk if i missed any!!

The moment you stepped into Felix's life, it was as if a match had been struck in a dry forest, setting off a wildfire of emotions. From the very first time he’d laid eyes on you, Felix felt the heat of that blaze ripping through his soul. And if only you had taken the time to look—really look—into those deceptively innocent brown eyes, you might just have been able to see the flames raging behind them before it was too late.

Felix was a good friend. A loyal friend.

As a result of his tendency to put his friends first, he often found himself dragged into situations he had no desire to be a part of.

And tonight was no exception.

Tucked away in a corner underneath the dim, multi-colored lights of a crowded party, Felix stood nursing a half-empty cup of stale beer that had long lost its appeal. Boredom gnawed at him, urging him to leave, yet he lingered. His eyes darted to the entrance every so often with the desperate hope that Hyunjin—the sole reason he had even chosen to attend the party at all—would be next to walk through.

But as the minutes dragged on without any sign of his best friend, Felix's frustration grew. The obnoxious music was far too loud, the alcohol not nearly strong enough to dull the disappointment of the evening, so Felix huffed out a sigh as he reached for his phone. Bypassing his earlier unanswered messages to Hyunjin, he typed out one final message to let his best friend know that he was calling it a night and would meet him back at their shared apartment.

After pressing send and shoving his phone back into his pocket, Felix pushed off the wall. Tossing the cup into the nearest trash, he turned toward the exit. But before he could take a single step further, before his foot had even hit the ground, he was gripped by a sudden shift in the atmosphere—a change that swept through the room. Through Felix.

The door swung open and in the split second that followed, the party around him was dulled into nothing but a distant hum. To say that Felix was captivated by the figure that walked through the door would have been an incredible understatement.

Unable to look away, a shallow breath caught in his throat as his gaze traced the contours of the stranger’s body— of your body—the way the dress clung to your figure underneath the soft tangerine glow of the flickering party lights. The way long slits in the black material revealed teasing glimpses of your silhouette in the most enticing way.

You stepped further into the room, and it was almost as if an unseen force had guided your focus toward Felix, too. Because as your eyes swept over the chaos of the party, they effortlessly bypassed the rest of the crowd and landed directly on his.

A shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you caught the intensity of his stare, yet the glint in your eyes hinted at something far less innocent. And it was right then and there that Felix decided that he had to know you, to feel you—taste you. In every possible way.

Driven by some unexplainable primal desire, his feet began to move of their own accord. He shouldered through the crowd, anticipation electrifying the air around him as he took a step closer to you. One step closer, and then another and—

Then Hyunjin walked in behind you. 

In such a cruel twist of fate, Hyunjin followed you through that door. And with the confidence that only Hyunjin could exude, his arm casually slipped around your shoulders, claiming you as his own. 

Felix's stride faltered as he came to a sudden stop. His heart plummeted, a heavy weight settling in its place as he watched you turn to Hyunjin. Your smile grew, blossoming into a radiant expression that drove a dagger straight through his chest.

Laughter cut through the air like shards of glass as he registered the uncomfortable press of sweaty bodies that danced too close. The rhythm of the music throbbed louder than ever in his temples, its bass pounding a relentless echo in his chest that only amplified the emptiness he felt as he watched from across the crowd as Hyunjin leaned in to whisper something to your ear. Something meant for only you to hear.

You turned your head and planted a brief, affectionate kiss on Hyunjin's lips in response, and the single dagger in Felix's heart was replaced by a thousand.

When Hyunjin glanced up from the kiss, his eyes immediately found Felix lingering in the crowd. Warmth spread across his face as the familiar smile he reserved for his best friend lit up the room.

Felix lifted his hand in a single wave—an attempt to appear casual and completely unaffected by the way your fingers seamlessly intertwined with Hyunjin's as the older boy began to lead you over.

The space between you was reduced to less than a foot—thanks to the pressing crowd—and in that close proximity, Felix found himself engulfed by the subtle scent of your perfume. Its sweetness was reminiscent of a warm summer evening, enticing his senses just enough to leave him wanting more.

After apologizing for his dead phone battery, Hyunjin strained to introduce you over the music. Every syllable of your name echoed through Felix’s mind, and as Hyunjin went on to recount the story of how the two of you had met, his voice became nothing more than a distant murmur. Quite frankly, Felix didn’t really care how Hyunjin had been fortunate enough to know you first. So he tuned out his best friend and dedicated the entirety of his focus to stealing glances in your direction, struggling to keep his gaze from lingering too long. And Felix decided that not only were you stunning, but your aura, too, was nothing short of magnetic. Confidence radiated from you in a way that was just as intoxicating as the sweetness of your fragrance. Your eyes, however, refused to leave Hyunjin. And Felix couldn't help but wonder what he would have to do to capture your attention like that.

But Felix was a good friend.

So like any good friend would, he pushed away the thought. He clenched his fist and drew in a steadying breath. With significant effort, he plastered a smile across his face—one that didn't quite reach his eyes—and turned to his best friend. "I was actually on my way out," he said. "Not feeling well, sorry mate.”

Hyunjin frowned at the interruption. His eyes glazed over with worry as he studied Felix’s face before reaching over to offer him a reassuring pat on the back. "Sure, man,” he said. “Take care. See you back home.” And Felix didn’t need to wonder why Hyunjin didn’t push him any further to stay. If he were in Hyunjin’s shoes, he would’ve don’t the very same thing—if only for the opportunity to have you all to himself.

Felix almost regretted his decision to leave when you stepped forward and met his eyes for the second time that night, your delicate features softening in a way that made his knees weak.

"Nice meeting you, Felix.”

Fuck.

The way your voice wrapped around his name, the way it rolled off your tongue had his cock straining in his already too-tight pants.

“Hope you feel better,” you added, with a smile so saccharine it had Felix feeling far more intoxicated than any amount of alcohol ever could.

Somehow, he managed a weak nod in your direction before dropping his gaze and hurriedly making his way to the door. His heart hammered in his chest like a desperate plea, urging him to stay and grasp at the fragile thread of hope he’d felt when he first laid eyes on you.

But Felix was a good friend.

And so he fought the urge to look back as he stepped outside. The night air wrapped around him, cool against his skin, but the fire inside him burned brighter than ever as you stoked the flames in his mind.

—

Upon returning to their shared apartment, Felix found no respite in the solitude of his room. He tossed and turned in the darkness, putting every ounce of effort he had into forcing thoughts of you from his mind.

The rational part of him recognized the boundaries, the loyalty owed to Hyunjin..And he tried—he really did. Even as his hand crept down to palm the growing bulge in his boxers, he knew it was wrong. But his fingers betrayed the internal conflict, slipping beneath his waistband to wrap around the base of his pulsing cock. His eyes screwed shut as he tugged slowly, picturing how your lips would look wrapped around it—how your mouth would feel, how your eyes would look shimmering with tears when you choked on it. He edged himself, because Felix liked to mix pleasure with pain. And just as he was finally about to grant himself the release he so desperately craved, Felix was yanked back to reality by the soft thud of the front door closing.

Hushed whispers began to fill the silent space on the other side of his bedroom door. Felix immediately recognized his best friend’s voice, accompanied by—

Yours.

Felix stilled with his hand still wrapped around his cock. He listened to the shuffling of footsteps, hushed laughter, and then, the decisive click of Hyunjin's bedroom door closing—and locking.

His thoughts immediately went to the possibilities playing out on the other side of the shared wall. And it didn’t take long before sounds of pleasure filled the air, growing into filthy sounds of skin slapping on skin. Felix couldn't believe his ears as the sweetest moans he’d ever heard began to seep through the cracks in the wall. Moans coming from your mouth as you were getting fucked by his best friend. Your voice rose, spewing Hyunjin’s name like some prayer, and Felix was certain he had never been this hard in his entire fucking life. Panting, his eyes screwed shut and suddenly he was pumping his cock again two—three more times until he heard you shout, “F-fuck Hyunjin I’m cumming!” and Felix came with you. The hardest he ever had, thick ropes of white shooting across his abdomen. 

After he’d finished and was thoroughly disgusted with himself, Felix lie there hoping that he wouldn’t have to interact with you in the morning. That you would be gone before the sun rose—following the pattern of those before you who had occupied Hyunjin's world for a single night. Although Felix was positive he would never find anyone quite like you, he could get over you—he would force himself to get over you, because of the unwavering loyalty he held for his best friend who had been by his side for as long as he could remember. 

Felix didn't even know you. And so, it should be easy enough to forget you, he thought.

Straightforward.

Already done.

Except for the fact that it wasn’t. Because as the weeks unfolded, it became painfully clear that your presence in Hyunjin's life—and thus, in Felix's life—would become far more profound than any fleeting one night stand. 

In the beginning, Felix had done a decent job at maintaining his distance. But the more time he spent around you, the harder it became to contain whatever it was that was burning inside of him. And it certainly didn’t help that Hyunjin insisted on weaving you into their lives. Inviting you to their late-night movie marathons, welcoming you to their favorite hangout spots, ensuring that you were always included in their plans. Felix found himself torn between the agony of watching you grow closer to his best friend and the sheer ecstasy of having you near.

Naturally, Hyunjin remained blissfully unaware of the effect you had on Felix, too wrapped up in you himself. But Felix was a good friend, determined to ensure that his commitment to his friendship would prevail. And he couldn’t deny the happiness you brought into his best friend's life. He had never seen Hyunjin so content—his expressions more animated, his laughter more genuine, his smiles more frequent than ever before. So Felix gritted his teeth and buried his attraction beneath layers of forced indifference. He put on thoughtful expressions when you spoke, despite the fact that the only thing he could think about was slipping his aching length between your legs. He smiled at you, and pretended like his cock wasn’t raw from how he abused it every night while scrolling through candid pictures of you he'd snapped without your permission. He went out of his way to make you feel comfortable, when all he wanted was for someone to make you cry so that he could be the one to wipe your tears.

Like a seasoned performer, as the months slipped by Felix became adept at masking the flames of longing and desire that raged beneath the surface. He became good at it..Until late one afternoon, in the quiet expanse of the library’s upper floor, when Felix came across you as he was heading home for the day. Your nose was buried in a heavy book, brow furrowed in concentration. And as Felix stood there, captivated by the sight of the setting sun's golden rays delicately brushing across your features, he etched the moment into the corridors of his memory, preserving it for...later reflection. You lifted your head, meeting his eyes like you had the very first night you'd met, and suddenly Felix wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to keep up the act. There was a brief pause from both of you—a silent acknowledgment of Hyunjin’s absence—before you graced Felix with a small wave.

Praying that his eagerness remained hidden, Felix made his way toward you. "Need some help?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a gentle undertone that eased some of the tension in your shoulders. You had always been comfortable with Felix, and he had always known it.

You sighed with exasperation, and it took everything for Felix not to let his gaze linger on your lips—soft and inviting, and a little swollen, as if you had been biting them in contemplation. “I’ve been at this for hours and normally Hyunjin helps me with this stuff, but he's been swamped with rehearsals lately,” you said.

Felix, suppressing the swirl of emotions triggered by the novelty of being alone with you, mustered a warm smile with sincerity that he made sure was reflected his eyes. "Is there anything I can help with?"

—

After the study session, Felix insisted that he walk you home—it was late, dark, and he genuinely cared about your safety amidst the unpredictable nighttime campus atmosphere. After all, what kind of friend would he be to Hyunjin if he let something happen to you? The conversation between you flowed effortlessly as it always did, and when you reached your doorstep you turned to him with a grateful smile, your eyes reflecting the trust that had blossomed between you over time. "Thank you, Lixie,” you said. The affection in your tone resonated like a soothing melody, and Felix couldn't help but revel in the nickname he had grown so fond of. "I really appreciate your help tonight," you added.

Felix returned your smile. "Anytime," he replied, "I'm just a text away if you need anything. Have a good night."

In the days that followed your meeting in the library, a seemingly natural rhythm developed between you and Felix. After discreetly familiarizing himself with your schedule and study habits, Felix began to strategically position himself in the library. He made sure to be there during those moments when you studied while patiently waiting for Hyunjin to conclude his dance practice.

Felix spent those precious hours focused entirely on you. He marveled at the way your eyes lit up with understanding, the soft sighs of relief when a difficult concept finally clicked. And he couldn't help but wonder whether your conversations held the same weight for you as they did for him. He wondered if you shared the details of your time spent together with Hyunjin. Or if perhaps, like Felix, you wanted to keep those shared moments a secret. 

A substantial pang of guilt gripped Felix's chest whenever he thought about it..But Hyunjin never mentioned anything—the routine of their friendship continued without interruption—and with time, the guilt dwindled. Fading into insignificance until it was hardly there at all.

Before he knew it, every innocent interaction between the two of you had become a significant event in his mind. Every stolen moment with you fueled his desire, long after Felix stopped trying to convince himself that what he felt was wrong. A friendly hug became an embrace laden with unspoken emotions. A playful nudge became a secret message, a whispered promise of something more. He couldn't see the truth anymore—couldn't separate reality from the distorted perceptions in his mind. He would lose himself to fantasies where he'd confess his love and you would respond by affirming that you felt the same. And Hyunjin would support the two of you—understanding and encouraging the connection between you and Felix—because Hyunjin was a good friend too.

Unfortunately, you were so madly in love with Hyunjin that you hadn’t noticed how the behavior of his roommate was a little..off. 

That particular evening, Hyunjin hadn’t planned on running late when he told you meet him at their apartment for your anniversary. When you texted him to let him know that you were there, he’d responded with a simple message:

Practice went late again I'm sorry, baby. Lix is there, he'll let you in. Call you when I'm outside, I'm taking you to dinner. Love u.

Your eyes, fixed on your phone screen, met Felix’s only briefly when he opened the door. As you stepped past him your thoughts remained focused solely on Hyunjin and how excited you were to see him. To be in his arms, to kiss him and exchange the details of your day. “Thanks, Lixie," you said, voice trailing as you made your way toward Hyunjin's room.

But you paused in front of Felix's room on the way, curiosity piqued by the soft lavender glow escaping from the cracked door. Drawn in by your favorite color, you ventured further inside, tossing your phone and purse onto the bed as you had done numerous times before. You found Felix's new computer setup, adorned with the vibrant purple lights that cast a mesmerizing aura throughout the room. The hum of the powerful machine filled the air, accompanied by a song from your favorite band. Your ears caught the familiar melody, though you didn't fully process the significance of it. You hummed casually, not realizing that Felix had intentionally picked the track just for you. The entire setup spoke volumes about Felix's passion for technology and his very, very meticulous attention to detail. 

Your fingers traced the sleek edges of the keyboard, and Felix couldn’t help but notice the way your skirt rode up when you bent over to get a closer look. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as his eyes devoured the curve of your ass. “Check out the cable management at the back. Its nerdy, but I've spent quite some time making sure its all organized,” he said, knowing damn well that you would need to bend over further to see it. Which is exactly what you did, allowing Felix catch a full glimpse of the red lacy panties you had on underneath your skirt.

Fuck.

His favorite color. Had you worn them for him? Did Hyunjin even know you were coming over tonight?

Every question he’d ever had about your intentions swirled in his mind until Felix knew that he couldn't let uncertainty linger any longer.

When you stood and turned around, his lips were on yours.

Cherry flavored lip gloss, just like the one he had swiped from your purse last week in the library. For a split second, your lips pressed ever so slightly harder against his before you pulled back, covering your mouth with a hand. Your eyes went wide with shock. "Lixie...We’re friends..” you whispered. “We’re friends”, you repeated, a little firmer this time. 

Abruptly, your eyes darted to your illuminated phone screen on the bed. Following your gaze, Felix observed the caller ID, and he had never felt more like a fool. The stark reality hit him with unforgiving force as he witnessed the love mirrored in your eyes when you stared down at the glowing image of Hyunjin. He saw the depth of your very real feelings for his best friend, and how he had misinterpreted everything.

But Felix was so far gone that when you reached for your phone, his hands moved of their own accord, pushing it off the bed and sending it clattering to the floor. “Felix..” you whispered. But another impulse had him kicking your phone underneath the door—the door you hadn't realized he had closed behind you when you’d entered the room.

“Don't answer that,” he muttered, his own eyes wide with desperation. “Just...Just listen, please just let me explain," he begged, shifting in front of the closed door and reaching behind to lock it.

The shock in your expression mirrored the terror of a creature caught in the midst of an uncontrollable forest fire. And Felix felt creeping panic begin to take hold within him because this isn't how it was supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be looking at him like that. Desperation clawed at his throat, his heart pounded in his chest, "I can explain," he pleaded. The taste of your lips lingered on his, a bittersweet reminder of his impulsive action. He observed the subtle tremor in your hands, a sign of your unease. He felt the hurt in your eyes—a hurt he had caused. And he knew that he had to fix this.

He just needed more time.

“Felix, what are you doing?" you whispered as he took a step toward you. Your eyes darted toward the door, his fingers brushed the fabric of your sleeve, and the raging inferno within Felix exploded. The crackling heat seared through his veins and—

The distant click of the front door closing echoed from the hallway.

And the realization hit Felix like a sudden downpour—What kind of friend would he be if he let Hyunjin find out what he’d done?

#yandere felix #yandere lee felix #stray kids yandere #skz yandere #yandere skz #felix smut #skz smut #felix x reader #skz x reader

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Well since my request was rejected, could I alter it a bit ^^? Aged up Jamil, Duece Jade and Azul at theyre honeymoon 🥰? Where would they take their wife and maybe bit of theure reaction that theyre finally married ? ( im telling this as a joke but: TECHNICLY they alredy had 2 birthdays XD making them duece 18 and rest 19 )

Azul Ashengrotto: 

He will definitely be working part of the time. A little frustrating to have to constantly pull your husband away from his work but he at least brought you to a place he knew you were excited to be. He’s the type to plan out the event beforehand so he has a list of things that you can do, with him and alone, so that you're never left wanting. He does at least turn off his devices the last day you're there and gives you his total attention, admitting that since you were so patient with him he was at your complete mercy.

Deuce Spade: 

Deuce is just fine having you choose the honeymoon location, though when he thinks of honeymoons he does imagine tropical places where it’s warm and sandy. He’s content as long as there’s some nice views along the way and you two can go on long magical wheel rides together, maybe even off to some romantic destination for a picnic he could set up. As long as you’re together Deuce knows it’ll be a nice relaxing vacation but he does dote over you despite you also telling him to relax, promising that there’ll be plenty of time to be his perfect little househusband self once you were home.

Jade Leech: 

Jade is quite easy to please with your honeymoon, just take him somewhere solitary up in the mountains where the flora and fauna were wildly varied. It would be like having a daily adventure, exploring the trails together, danger potentially lurking around every corner. He does make a joke about you being able to take him out of the picture to inherit some Leech family money and he’s delighted to hear that people on the surface call it “swimmin’ with the fishes”. You do always manage to have fun with Jade as he has a natural penchant for sniffing out opportunities, but you do make a stand on eating the mushroom gruel that he kept trying to serve you for dinner.

Jamil Viper: 

Jamil is so, so grateful for the break. You had even let him pick the destination since it was such a rarity for him to get away, and it took him some time to settle on where he wanted to go. He selected an area with rare delicacies and a lot of good food; he had wanted to expand his palate for some time and he now had ample opportunity. You loved listening to him give his opinions over all the meals you were trying, and especially loved the way he collected spices like they were limited edition perfumes, carefully setting them in his bag to bring back home. You looked forward to the yummy meals he would make when you were home, but for now, you had to focus on the busy itinerary set by your voracious husband.

#Disney TWST #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Azul Ashengrotto #Deuce Spade #Jamil Viper #Jade Leech #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Deuce Spade x Reader #Jade Leech x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader