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sturnsdoll · 29 days

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𝘏𝘖𝘛𝘌𝘓 -`♡´- - C.S

inspired by: this pairing: chris x ("bestfriend"!) reader summary: your bestfriend is bored at night so he comes to your hotel room. what activities will he think of to keep himself entertained?? warnings: smut w slight background, dirty talk, lots of praise, friends to lovers, dom!chris x sub!reader, fingering, swearing, cocky chris?, word count: 2700 authors note: as soon as i saw the post asking for someone to make something like this i knew i had to turn tf up. hope i did the request justice 😛 "pink" = reader speaking "orange" = chris speaking

「 ✦Hotel by montell fish ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 ᯤ✦ 」

it had been nothing short of a long day. you and the triplets had been out all day taking a road trip. you were just excited to get to the hotel with your friends and sleep. you, matt and nick were all exhausted but chris, your bestfriend, was still bursting with energy.

you and the triplets entered the hotel and let nick take care of obtaining the keys and room numbers. the plan was that you would have your own room and nick, matt and chris would share a two bed room for the night.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

matt was out no less than five minutes after all of you found your rooms and nick was practically non-verbal on his phone. chris was on the edge of the bed by nicks feet yappin' away about his day. no matter how obvious it was that nick wanted his space, chris couldn't bring himself to just be quiet.

"i just feel like-" "chris oh my god" nick interupted. this caused chris to go quiet with a look that said 'what?' on his face. oblivious. "i need you to shush motherfucker go to sleep or go bug your little girlfriend" nick complained as he rolled over.

chris glared at him for referring you his girlfriend. then after him and nick exchanged a few choice words (mainly consisting of nick telling him to shut the fuck up) chris chose to go bother you instead.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

music played at a comfortable volume in your hotel room. you set down your toothbrush and turned the tap off. about to start on your skincare, you were interupted by a knock on the door. approaching the door you were expecting it to be cleaners or something, but upon the door opening you found chris.

"hey" he hardly greeted as he let himself in past you to sit on your bed. you sighed as you closed the door and looked at him with a look that asked what he was doing bugging you at this hour. "nick kicked me out" chris half jokes as his eyes scan you quickly. he caught notice of the way the cold exposed your nipples through your tank top. his eyes went back to your eyes before you could notice him looking.

as comfortable as you were with chris, recently there had just been these moments where you were sure you were both flirting with eachother or that there was some kind of tension. you had shrugged it all off though because although your feelings for chris were more than just platonic, you knew there was no way he felt the same. however something about being alone with him made you nervous.

"so you came to annoy me instead? great" your voice was sarcastic but in a playful manner. you headed for the bathroom to finish your nightly routine. "shut up you love me" chris retorts, following you to the bathroom.

you sat up on the counter criss crossed and begun pulling serums, washcloths and cleansers from your bag. chris enjoyed watching you do everyday things like this. he came behind you, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, watching you in the mirror. his palms pressing into the counter. feeling his warm body so close to yours made you feel safe, comforted (also a little hot inside.)

you were both silent as your music filled the room. while you nurtured your face his eyes were glued to you, admiring you the entire time.

once you finished you gave chris a smile in the mirror "you know your gonna have to go back with nick and matt really soon chris i'm tired" you tried to turn around but he wrapped his arms around you from behind. embracing the hug as much as you could from this position, you leaned your head back and placed your arms on his. "but i'm bored" he complained. there was something almost mischevious in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. "but i'm tired" you said, mocking him.

his voice comes out quieter and lower next to your ear "oh i'm sure i could wake you up" there's a grin or maybe even a smirk on his face. you were sure he didn't mean anything sexual but still your face heats up and your sure that due to your bodies touching, he can feel the way your heartbeat begins racing.

you look at him with a shy smile although not knowing what to say. the song changed and the familiar start to hotel by montell fish begins playing.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙞 𝙢𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢, 𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙨" ⊹ ࣪ ˖

an unspeakable tension grows and maybe it's your imagination but you swear a slight smirk spreads on his face. you don't realize it but it's been a minute now and you've said nothing back to him, only staring blankly back at him in the mirror.

"hm?" his voice snaps you out of your trance and you realized you've been silently staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. fuck. "i dunno i'm pretty tired" you panic at the way your voice comes out a little breathy. his voice drops slightly "you're tired hm?" his arms squeeze a little tighter around you "that why your hearts practically beating out of your chest?" his words mixed with his breath fanning your ear make you dizzy. you can't deny the mix of arousal and nervousness you're feeling. he's your bestfriend afterall, he knows you well enough to know exactly what's going through your mind right now.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪" ⊹ ࣪ ˖

so you decide to embrace those feelings. you pull his arms off of you and turn your body around so there's no choice but for your legs to dangle off the counter on either side of his waist. he's still not sure if your feeling how he is so to be safe, his hands rest on the counter next to the outsides of your thighs rather than touching you.

you quickly glance down his body then back up to his eyes. "that why you're hard?" you mock with a mischevious grin. for a split second he looks taken aback but then before you can tease him any further he grabs your thighs, dragging you closer to him. your thighs instinctively squeeze his waist. you gasp when his clothed erection pokes at your thin sleep shorts.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚"⊹ ࣪ ˖

there's a moment of silence as he searches your eyes for any sign of hesitation. instead he only finds lust and need. without skipping another beat, his hand comes to the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate makeout.

your arms wrap around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. you wanted him everywhere, on you, under you, in you.

his other hand gently rubs your thigh while his lips break off from yours. he takes in your already disheveled state. lips puffy, eyes glossed over with need. "so pretty" he comments right before attacking your neck with kisses filled with teeth, tongue and sucking. a gentle whine escapes you as he lifts you off the counter. and even when he lays you on the bed his lips don't leave your neck.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙞 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣' 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢. 𝙞 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪"⊹ ࣪ ˖

his weight presses onto you but not suffocatingly. he subconciously ruts his hips into yours. "mm" you squirm your hips up for more but he pushes your hips back to the bed with his own. your cunt is aching to be touched in any way shape or form, so long as it's him. "chris please" your voice comes out desperate.

he completely ignored your plea but his lips do come off your neck so he can lock eyes with you. his hand slowly brushes down your side "god i bet you're soaked already" he seems as if he's speaking to himself. his fingertips brush across your hip bone now. his voice alone makes you try and close your legs to relieve some tension. with his body between them though, it's useless.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚?"⊹ ࣪ ˖

you look at him with doe eyes, wanting nothing more than his touch right now. "chris-" you begin when suddenly he pulls the band of your panties back before letting is snap against your skin "so desperate" he teases before his hand finally slips beneath the thin material. two fingers slide up and down your soaked cunt to collect your wetness on his fingers. then his middle finger makes quick work of circling your clit.

"who made you this wet, baby?" he asks with cockiness to his tone. your head goes to the side and your eyes find anywhere to look but him. you can't believe your bestfriend is talking dirty to you, while he's on you. as you let out a whiny "you" in response. he's way too entertained with how whiny and submissive you already are for him to be thinking about how shocking the situation is for you both. "mhm." he responds. his middle finger leaves your clit only to enter you along with his ring finger. a sigh of relief leaves your lips. "now look at me" his free hand grips your jaw, forcing you to face him. your eyes still avoid his though.

his fingers begin to curl repetitevly inside of you, forcing a moan from your lips. he feels his pants tighten at your reaction. "look at me or i'll stop." his tone is gentle but still commanding. it leaves you with no choice but to meet his gaze. you take notice of how much darker the lust has turned his blue eyes.

"listen so well" he praises before his lips meet yours. hearing him talk to you like this makes every ounce of your body heat up. you're already feeling close.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣, 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙤𝙝𝙝, 𝙞, 𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪" ⊹ ࣪ ˖

he pushes his wrist forward and somehow, his fingers reach even deeper and his palm rubs your needy clit. your nails dig into the back of his neck "s-so good" you mutter as your eyes stare hooded and glossy up at your best (not-so) friend.

the cockiness is seeping off of him "yea? you like my fingers?" his movements speed up as he speaks. his voice mixed with his skilled hands nearly send you over the edge. he can feel the way you clench, threatning to finish any minute. for that very reason he rips your pleasure away.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙞 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛, 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡. 𝙤𝙤𝙝, 𝙮𝙤𝙪"⊹ ࣪ ˖

you open your mouth to protest but he speaks before you can. "m' gonna make you feel good again, don't worry" he assures as he leaves you for a second to remove his clothes. you take this as your cue and remove everything besides your bra and panties.

chris resumes his place on the perfectly white hotel sheets. his hand is gently stroking his cock as he moves between your legs. your eyes lock with it and your desperation reaches an all time high. he's not small or thin by any means.

he smirks at the way your lips are parted, eyes watching, body waiting. he uses his free hand to push your legs open further. you knew letting your bestfriend fuck you was about to change everything for the both of you, but the way your whole body ached for him drowned out all the worries you had.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙢𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙨. 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪..." ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"you want your bestfriends cock sweetheart?" he asks staring down at you. "yes chris" your words come out impatiently. "then what do you say? hm?" you frustratedly watch the grin on his face as he taps his tip against your puffy clit just to tease you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚"⊹ ࣪ ˖

you sigh "please." he can tell your frustrated. "you can do better than that" he states as he drags his tip up and down your pussy, juices coating his tip now. your hips push toward him but he only pulls back. "please fuck me chris. i need you"

"good girl." he praises, his length unexpectedly shoving into you. "god so tight" he groans the praise as he pulls back, then pounding into you again. "chris!" you shout as your hands go for the sheets but chris grasps them instead. his fingers interlock with yours, pinning your arms and hands down next to your head.

he picks up a harsh pace. uncontrollable whines and moans begin spilling from your lips. as his head drops next to yours, filthy things come out of his mouth into your ear.

you're just speechless, mouth open as your eyes roll back.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙞 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣' 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪"⊹ ࣪ ˖

he kisses your neck so gently, completely contradicting the roughness of how he's fucking you. "so pretty underneath me" he mumbles before his lips attatch to your neck again. you clench around him at the praise, making him groan and thrust his hips faster to chase his release as well as help you reach yours.

you whine out his name as you shut your eyes, his cock hitting the right spot everytime he thrusts his hips. one of his hands moves away from yours to slip between your bodies. his middle finger wastes no time on finding and stimulating your clit. your hips buck into his hand but with the way he's fucking you it makes no difference.

"need t-to- uh fuck" your words are cut off by a needy moan. he pulls away from your neck to look at you "what's wrong hm?" he asks with faux sympathy right before a particulary deep slam of his hips into yours, wanting to pull more of those pretty noises out of you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙞 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪"⊹ ࣪ ˖

giving up on speaking you throw your head back, your free hand gripping his shoulder as you uncontrollably clenched around him, desperate noises coming from your lips one after the other.

"you need to cum?" he's out of breath and his pace begins to falter. you nod frantically. "go on then, cum with me" he says through his teeth as his hips twitch. one more thrust of his hips and his cum fills you up.

his hips still but he continues rubbing quick circles on your clit "come on, be a good girl and cum for me" his words are what send you over the edge. your hips lift of the bed, your mouth opens but nothing comes out. "fuck." chris mutters at the sight of you mixed with feeling of you clenching around his cock, milking him dry.

he pulls out but massages your clit a little longer, letting you work through your high before collapsing on the bed next to you. you roll on your side and he does the same, spooning you. the both of you leave nothing to be heard but deep breaths as you both smile at the experience that just occured.

⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪"⊹ ࣪ ˖

after chris finally got himself up to clean the both of yours mess you both got dressed and took seats on the bed facing one another. there was an almost awkward silence, not surprising considering you just let your bestfriend fuck the shit out of you.

you speak first "i don't just wanna fuck" you state with a worried expression. he stares at you for a moment and you think he's about to tell you he doesn't want any kind of relationship. "is that what you want?" you were quiter and much more sheepish now. you looked like you wanted to retract into your own skin and never come out. he quickly smiled. he playfully slaps his no-longer bestfriends shoulder. "no dumbass i want you" he says before scooching closer, grabbing your hips to pull you into his lap. then placing a delicate kiss on your lips.

you smile down widely at him "great. now can we fucking sleep?" you ask exhaustedly. "yup" he responds, standing up while holding you before tossing you on the bed and climbing in next to you. ⊹ ࣪ ˖"𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣' 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚?"⊹ ࣪ ˖

(sorry for the stupid ending 🙏)

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturnsdoll

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ilovenatasharomanoff2-0 · 8 months

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How Natasha would fuck you in different seasons

Warnings: Unprotected sex, a little degradation, intersex Natasha, mentions of hair pulling, cunnilingus, oral (both receive)

Pairings: Intersex Natasha (she has a cock) x reader

Wc: 801

During the spring season, Natasha would show a notably gentle disposition towards you. The atmosphere would be tranquil and unhurried, with raindrops cascading down the windows of your modern apartment. She wouldn't have any place to be. It wouldn't be rushed at all. Waking up to her slowly fucking you from the side. She would always find the time to bend you over the marble countertops and fuck you, making you almost burn the food left on the stovetop.

The amount of praise she would tell you is insane, too. "Such a good girl for me, y/n."

Maybe it's the pollen, but she's so gentle with you for these few months.

In contrast to her softness during the spring season, Natasha's character would show huge differences during the summer months. Natasha would have your face down, ass up on her bed fucking you roughly, her cock hitting that particular spot repeatedly. Her hand would make a makeshift ponytail and lift your head from the pillow so that you could hear the most degrading things that left her mouth known to man.

"You're such a dirty slut, y/n, letting me fuck you whenever I feel like it? Do your friends know how much of a whore you are, huh?"

A window would always be open because of how hot and humid the room got in such a short amount of time. Your moans are almost as loud as all of the cars from down below. You could already see a noise complaint heading your way from your neighbors, but you couldn't care less.

During fall, Natasha would always want to be eating you out. She's so desperate to taste your pussy. She's so pussy whipped it's crazy. She would eat you out during the most random times of the day.

You and Natasha would be carving pumpkins to put out on your balcony, and out of nowhere, she would be on the ground, pushing her face into your knee and begging you to let her taste your pussy.

"Please, y/n, just five minutes; I'll make you cum so fast, y/n. I just need to taste you."

During these months, she tends to become very submissive. The fall season is typically characterized by overwhelming paperwork that piles up, leading to exhaustion. Additionally, she has the responsibility of assisting the agents with their training, which can be pretty demanding.

You would have her whimpering and shaking as you sucked her off late at night, telling her "I can help relieve some of that stress, Nat."

I could also see you riding her often because the poor girl is exhausted. She would feel all up on your body as you moved your hips back and forth; she loves how warm and tight your cunt is and will always comment on it.

On Halloween, you two would have to go inside early and leave the candy basket outside with a sign that says, 'Only take one or else...' (thanks to Natasha) because of how horny Natasha was getting. It was hard to not see the bulge in her sweatpants. (her costume would be a pirate, but no one would know because she just draws two big circles around her eyes and a mustache.)

Natasha would be the softest during winter. She would be so slow and gentle with you, just like spring. She would be on top of you on the couch, thrusting into you passionately.

The newly purchased logs would crack in the fireplace, the warmth spreading throughout the room and the flames slowly turning the wood into ash. Slow jazz music would be playing in the back as you had a Christmas movie with zero volume, so you could hear each other's moans.

She wouldn't be 'fucking' you or having 'sex' with you, she would be making love to you. Her head would be buried into your neck, sucking on the skin and leaving marks, as your hand touched her head and scratched it lightly. Small moans came out of your mouth every few seconds as Natasha moved her hips in and out of you.

The room was cast in a dim and hazy glow, with only the distant twinkling of the city's lights providing any illumination. She would constantly tell you how gorgeous you are and that you are the only girl she would want in the entire world.

She would also be really needy to be inside you, whether that's her tongue, fingers, or cock. It would be the best part of her day. Whenever she's at her office, you'll always drive there to give her a hot soup, tea, and an allergy relief pill because she can't stop sneezing and coughing. After eating, she would repay you by letting you cockwarm her while she finished some mission reports Furry assigned her.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x female #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov #marvel #natasha x reader #marvel smut

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confessioncassette · 2 months

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𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

𝐭𝐰 : 𝐧𝐞��𝐤 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫. 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲. 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧’𝐬 - 𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐚)

“Another cosmo, please."

It's late.

Soft music plays through the lobby as Husk quietly makes your second drink of the night. It was a long day, but it's the weekend. A drink after a hectic day never hurt anybody, right? Husk tried to get you to talk, but you just didn't want to. No offense to him- you just weren't in the mood. And he understood, he always does.

Movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention. The radio demon, quiet as ever, props his elbow over the counter. His red eyes scan over your body as Husk hands you your next drink.

"A whiskey, neat, if you don't mind."

Alcohol buzzes warmly down your throat as you take a sip. Your eyes watch Husk as he pours Alastor his drink and slides it across the bar to him.

"Tough day, my dear? I don't think I've seen you so gloomy." He slides over the bar stool to sit.

You shrug, "I don't really want to talk about it, Al."

He hums and takes a swig of his drink. He doesn't pester. He doesn't fill in the gaps of silence. He listens to the music with you on the opposite side of the bar. Husk is quiet too, polishing glasses as he nurses a drink.

You scroll through your phone to pass the time. The alcohol warms your body, giving you a relaxing buzz.

You're tired. Your body's heavy from the emotional weight of today. Everyone at the hotel now has become accustomed to each other, all knowing the limits of others' emotions. They're always there to talk, sure, but one look at your sunken face and tired eyes gives them a signal to leave you be in the silence.

But it's comforting, in a way.

Everyone besides Husk, Alastor and yourself have taken themselves to bed a while ago.

"You're not asleep, Al?" You ask. Husk, you already know, is usually up this late anyways. But you've never seen Alastor hang around more than needed, especially this late. But come to think about it, you're not usually up having a drink at the bar in the early hours of the morning either.

"I don't sleep much, my dear." He finishes his last sip of whiskey then Husk tops it off.

Oh.

A familiar song begins to play over the radio. The beautiful acoustic guitar prickles your senses. You hum along softly, tapping your finger onto the glass stem of your drink.

Alastor takes a swift drink before he's by your side.

"May I have this dance, sweetheart?" He extends his hand, waiting patiently. A sincere grin is painted across his face, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

You blink at him.

He shrugs, "I do admit this is after my time, but it's a good one regardless."

"I'm... not very good..." You frown and before you avert your gaze to the floor, Alastor's hand is gentle as he swipes your jaw and lifts your chin up to him.

"Nonsense, just follow my lead sweetheart."

Taking his hand, he guides you to the middle of the lobby. With a snap of his fingers, the volume is increased. The song is in surround sound, thumping through your body.

"May I?" His hands hover over your body, waiting for your confirmation to touch you.

You nod.

"Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more..."

One hand slides down to the small of your back and presses you into his body. The other hand curls around yours, and you take notice of how much smaller you are compared to him.

Being so close to him, you inhale his scent. He’s so close to you. You note: A simple bar of soap, the whiskey he just drank and a musky cologne that contains nodes of grassy lemon and licorice.

You follow his lead. His first steps guide you backwards, then to the side, forward and over again. His movements are gentle and to the rhythm. You do your best to follow. Your face tightens as you try to focus.

You stumble over his foot but he's quick to hold you upright. You mumble.

"Relax, my dear. Here," the hand resting on the small of your back glides over your waist. You look down between your bodies to watch his footwork. With every step, he guides your waist in the direction he leads you.

"A natural," he coos, "now look at me." His knuckles push your chin up. His gaze is fixated within yours.

"When you dance you have a way with me. Stay with me, sway with me..."

"Posture," he murmurs, his hand gliding back up to press his fingers between your shoulder blades, and you lengthen your spine. "Good girl."

"Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you..."

You become fluid to the rhythm. The trumpet sings a melody that bleeds through your bones. Alastors hips begin to sway and roll against yours. The two of you glide across the floor as one beautiful movement. As the music crescendos, you lose yourself within it. The nervousness you felt before dissolves off your shoulders and you feel like you can breathe.

“I can hear the sound of violins…”

Alastors scent swirls all around you. His cologne is sweet. His red eyes are an intensity that never leave your face, but it doesn't bother you. He holds the weight you drop into him with every sway, like he's caressing your body, telling it that he can handle you- that it's okay to dance your heart out.

Your head rolls slowly as you sway your hips, exposing your neck to him. The hand holding yours squeezes slightly.

"My, my, a natural indeed."

Alastor pushes you away so you spin your body halfway. Your back presses against his abdomen, your waist against his groin, as his hands slowly slide over your waist. The ghost of his breath tickles your neck as his nose skims the side of your face. Grabbing your arm, he twists you back to face him.

Your arms fly up to his shoulders and his palms grip your ribs, guiding you into a few turns across the lobby.

Alastor takes a moment to look you over.

“Sway me now…”

Beautiful music rolls in waves as the instrumental takes over. The guitar solo now leading your footsteps.

Your feet cross over each other in place, your hips dipping with each step. Alastors grip over the sides of your ribs flex, claws gently digging into the fabric of your clothing.

“Absolutely stunning,” he whispers, watching the way you take over with the music.

It becomes a demon's tango. The strength he has, holding your body upright gives you confidence. You’re quick to take Alastor’s hands into your own and glide across the floor. Your movements slow and agonizing to him. Your head leans back as his meets yours, your noses almost touching.

You spin a few times in place, as his hands shelter your hips. He stops you, once again your back turned to his body. His hands slide ever so slowly up your waist and to your neck, carefully tilting your head to expose your neck.

Sharp teeth threaten to break skin, but they don't. His teeth are gentle as they nibble your neck, his tongue swiping out to taste your sweat.

“Delicious,” He whispers in your ear.

You respond with a roll of your hips, lowering your body down a bit to roll against his leg.

He growls as if irritated and spins you back to face him. Your face is inches away from his. You nuzzle your nose into him.

You both sway your hips to the beat of the music and it’s a stare down. His eyes glow as he takes your face in, as you stare back..

“Behave, darling…” He says slowly, the static in his voice slightly amplified.

You inch your face closer to his, and temptation paints his face.

Without another moment, his lips crash into yours.

“Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you…”

He kisses you deeply, his tongue swiping at your top lip. His hands grope your belly, kneading at every piece of skin he lays his palms on. He pulls away in one swift maneuver to reset- a hand at the small of your back and a hand curled around yours.

Alastor guides you across the floor again, guiding you forward, backwards and to the side. The look on his face is one of a predator. His eyes narrow down at you, the sweat that beads at your forehead, making your hair stick so deliciously to your skin.

“Long before, it begins…”

The way your legs move with ease, the way you trust him to keep you balanced and the way your hips press into his groin- Your slow movements are so sensual it’s beginning to drive him mad.

You look up at him through your lashes, following everything he does.

“Ready, sweet girl?”

In a quick movement, Alastor lifts you up as he spins. Your legs hug along his thighs as he twirls you. His eyes never leave yours until he slows down enough for you to catch yourself and continue spinning on your toes.

“Sway me now..”

In one final motion, Alastors arms are wrapped around your body in an instant. You dip your body, exposing your neck and arching your back into his grip. Alastor follows your body down, his face close to yours. His smile grows as he takes you in. You look like a beautiful mess as your chest heaves.

So delicious for him.

His teeth bite down at your shoulder before his tongue licks up your neck.

“Looks like I finally found someone who could keep up with me on the dance floor,” the grip around your body tightens, “What a pleasure, my darling.”

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor

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crushedbyhyperbole · 2 months

Text

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.

Words: ~900

A/N: So this is SPN fic number two. The idea of Dean being such a pie fiend that he would steal someone else's pie from the fridge and deny it afterwards, really amused me. I obviously didn't get the desire to kiss him out of my system after the first SPN fic I wrote so here's another one 😂 It's not smut but there is mild adult themes which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is as generic as I can make but I have referenced as female. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I value your feedback and comments 💖

Warnings: kissing, mild violence, bad language as standard. Dean is an asshole. Reader is a bit of an asshole too. They're probably made for each other.

*** Minors do not read or interact ***

Dean Winchester. You hate him. His arrogance, his smug superiority, the way he always acts like he’s untouchable… his goddamn pretty mouth. Ugh! Asshole!

You didn’t always hate him – you had known him for years, one hunter to another – but, since you had been forced to stay with both he and Sam in the bunker these last couple of months, he had really grated on your nerves.

After your hunt of a large nest of vampires had gone wrong, you had become the hunted. Your home decimated, your family too precious to put at risk by you staying with them; you had needed help.

Sam had insisted, so you agreed to stay with them until your vamp problem could be solved. Only the nest turned out to be much bigger and far wider spread than you had first thought, and it was taking time for even the infamous Winchester brothers to put an end to.

The light in the refrigerator is stark as you stare inside. It’s gone. You slam the door, raging internally. Why can you not have anything to yourself in this goddamn place?

“DEAN!” You shout angrily at the top of your lungs, knowing he can hear you from his room down the hall, even with his music playing.

He won’t respond to you. He never does. Why should he? You’re just some girl he’s got to put up with for a while. Some girl he made a pass at that first week you were here, but you shut him down and he’s been an asshole to you ever since.

You storm up to his door and bray your fist against the wood as hard as you can. “I know you’re in there! Get your ass out here now!” You shout and hammer your fist against the door until you hear him moving inside.

The door clunks as he unlocks it, and it swings open to reveal him stood in the doorway in a navy blue robe and slippers. The light from his lamp is dim but warm, his music a moderate volume for the late hour. He looks irritated that you’ve disturbed him, that quizzical frown and pout are a dead giveaway. Good.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He smirks at you.

“You!” You push past him, and he doesn’t try to block you.

“What now?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this argument and it probably won’t be the last. Whenever Sam isn’t around, Dean always does something to piss you off, like he’s trying to bait you.

“You ate my pie! AGAIN!”

His expression is schooled into that self-righteous assuredness it always is when you confront him. His hands go to his hips – which looks ridiculous because of the robe – and he shifts his weight onto his other foot.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He says with a frown, and it’s entirely plausible that you’ve made a mistake, except it’s just the two of you here and you didn’t eat the damn pie. “I haven’t seen any damn pie.”

“Oh yeah?!” You square up to him, looking up into his eyes, unblinking, unphased.

“Yeah!” He doubles down, firmly meeting your stare, leaning closer as if you would be intimidated by that.

It’s a short distance you need to cover and he is unprepared. You expect him to push you away but he flounders, arms flailing and uncoordinated when you grip the lapels of his robe and pull him towards you.

When your lips meet he puckers up and blinks in shock, but you don’t give him time to realise what’s happening. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tight as you slip your tongue between his lips, plundering his mouth.

It takes a beat, but he responds by gripping your hips and holding you against him, moaning into your mouth as he opens up to you. The heat of his response takes you by surprise, but it shouldn’t have, really. He’d wanted this since the first few days you were here. Wanted you.

You ravage his mouth, your hands in his hair, making it messy as you practically melt into his arms. His tongue plays perfectly with yours, his lips soft and yielding. Dean Winchester is an exceptional kisser. This fact makes you hate him even more.

As you pull back, breathless, Dean grins at you. He looks happy and care-free, like the cat that got the cream. Your face, however, holds a scowl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” His expression changes to concern.

You lick your lips and it’s just as you thought, the sweet buttery goodness of pie crust and the pleasant tartness of sour cherry. You slap him across the face – not hard but just enough to get his attention – and stride to the door leaving him confused.

“What the hell?!” He rounds on you, his arousal tenting his robe.

“Don’t you dare eat my pie again.”

You leave your warning hanging in the air along with his frustration. A smirk playing on your lips at the sight you had just left behind you; Dean Winchester with kiss-swollen lips and a hard-on for you. It isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen but you still hate him, even if there’s now something else there along side it.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester kiss #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader kiss #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #cloudy's writing

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beansprean · 1 year

Text

Izzyhuahua is the most insanely accurate characterization yet. Thank you @batsarebetterthanpeople for your post.

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Ed, in a modern black tee shirt and jeans, walks in a door that dings when he opens it. He has a square shaped cloth shoulder bag strapped over his chest that is decorated with skulls and embroidered with "Izzy" at the top. Popping up from inside is a dark brown long haired Chihuahua with white on his muzzle, spots on his head that look like angry eyebrows, and a spot on his cheek that looks like an x. 1b. Ed from the back as he holds up dog Izzy with both hands, saying, "you're gonna have to sedate him." Lucius, dressed as a vet tech in peach scrubs and a red kerchief, holds out his hands to take him with a smirk, responding dismissively, "Haha, don't worry! Dr. Bonnet can handle this little guy." Izzy growls softly. 1c. 10 minutes later. Lucius reappears, hair missed, clothes torn, and a bloody bandage around his left pointer finger. He holds out a form on a clipboard and says, "Yeah, we're gonna need to sedate him."

2a. Close up on Stede, dressed in teal scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, on a bubbly yellow background. He looks up, eyes widening and cheeks turning red, mouth soft as he fumbles through an introduction, "Hello, I'm Dr. ...uh.... Stede..." 2b. Reverse close up of Ed in a similar state, staring lovestruck and blushing as he responds dazedly, "...Ed..." 2c. Close up on Izzy as he furiously launches himself upwards, growling and snarling! Offscreen, Ed screams, "Ahh, fuck, Izzy, no!!" and Stede shrieks, "Oh God!!" and calls for Lucius.

3a. Later, Izzy is now out cold on an examination table, snoring and tongue sticking out but somehow still looking angry. Text nearby points to him and says "extra extra drugs". Ed and Stede stand on either side of the table, Ed gently petting Izzy's back with a smile as he explains, "He has a lot of separation anxiety... I'd just like him to stop biting people, haha." Stede, arms crossed, looks down skeptically at the dog and just replies, "Right." He thinks to himself, 'Diagnosis: complete asshole.' 3b. Ed looks down, blushing a bit, and continues, "Makes dating kinda tough, heh." Stede immediately perks up but tries to keep it casual, looking everywhere but Ed and sweating at his temple. "oh?" he ventures carefully. "You're single, then?" Ed sighs, replying, "Yeah. Iz here has run off my last two boyfriends." 3c. Ed looks up at the ceiling, playing ignorance, and taps his chin facetiously, wondering aloud, "But maybe if I found someone good with animals...who understood-" Stede, looking sweaty and panicked, interrupts him at top volume with "Do you want to have dinner with me?!" 3d. Stede drops his tomato red face into his hands, mumbling, "I'm sorry, that was so unprofessional..." Ed just beams at him from the other side of the table, clearly having gotten the invite he was fishing for. On the table, Izzy starts to twitch and wake, one angry eye cracking open.

4a. Stede and Ed on a black leather loveseat in Ed's home, mismatched candles the only source of light on either side of them and music drifting sensuously from a speaker. Both are clearly dressed for a date, Stede in a button up and khakis and Ed in a purple henley and gray trousers. They are leaning close, knees interlaced, Ed's hand on Stede's thigh and the other cupping his cheek, Stede with one hand stretched on the back of the couch and the other expertly cupping a wine glass. Their faces are an inch apart, eyes closed, about to have their first kiss. 4b. There is a happy "yip!" as Izzy suddenly jumps up into Ed's lap and places his little paws on his chest, breaking the moment and causing Ed and Stede to jerk back from each other in surprise. 4c. Ed laughs and wraps his hands around the little dog, hearts floating up as he coos, "Aww, Izzy! Did you need some attention?" Unnoticed by Ed, Izzy turns to look at Stede over his shoulder to aim what can only be called a triumphant smirk at him. Stede jerks in surprise and looks immediately offended and angry. /end ID

#ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #mlm #Izzy hands #izzyhuahua #our flag means death #my art #fanart #image described

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jiminiecrickets · 1 month

Text

MILK & TWO SUGARS. KTH / M!READER

summary. despite being your subordinate, taehyung relishes in his power over you.

wc. 4.9k

tags. boss/assistant au, dom top!reader, bottom!tae, tae films himself to tease you, oral (r. receiving), office/desk sex, unprotected sex, officemates-with-benefits (sort of)

[ requested ]

the train carriage rocks and rumbles, steel and electricity burning beneath your feet. you hover beside the moving join between carriages, counting down the number of stops until it reaches yours. aside from the not-so-inconspicuous journalist snapping pictures of you across the carriage, it has been a fairly smooth ride.

he's wearing a cap, staring down at the flip-out screen of his dslr, pointed just right in your direction. he's far enough away that the photos probably don't seem that creepy – not i-pretended-to-bump-into-you-for-this-picture creepy, at least – and he's not holding the camera low enough to angle your crotch as the focal point, which is more than you can say for some other journalists. sure, you may have had a wild youth, but you were square now – just a guy in a suit on his phone with a messenger bag strapped across your chest. the most interesting thing about you was the fact that a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers stuck out one end of your bag.

for all the other commuters knew, you were heading home to kiss your wife and your two-and-a-half kids. you would like to keep it that way, isolating yourself with earbuds playing a rotation of your favourite songs.

on your phone, your insanely efficient and ridiculously beautiful personal assistant has just stopped using capital letters and proper punctuation.

seriously where are you? your coffee's going cold :(

you huff. you told him to wait a while longer before grabbing it since you needed to stop by the florist, but he had always been strict about your schedule. if it wasn't on the document, it didn't exist.

a couple more stops to go, you reply, glancing out the windows to ensure you're not getting his hopes up. nine minutes.

can't you get here any faster?

no, taehyung. it's always going to be nine minutes.

despite his profile picture only being his initials – KT, matching at least four other people in your phone – he manages to inject a whole lot of personality into his next message.

then don't walk, desk jockey. what can i do to make you gallop? the bubble of three dots pops up. perhaps i can tempt you over with a carrot?

please stop it with the horse metaphors.

but you're the only one i wanna ride <3

you nearly choke on your saliva, hastily pressing your phone screen to your chest for privacy. you steel your nerves when your phone vibrates again, chasing away the heat crawling rapidly up your neck. you take a deep breath and glance down.

a video. you tap the play button and the window expands to take up your screen.

the first thing you notice is that taehyung's not wearing any pants. he's wearing everything but pants, and you even see a flash of his playful smirk as he tightens his tie when he glances down. he smooths it down, down his stomach, and leans back in a chair.

your chair.

holy shit. he's in your office.

he tucks one foot up onto the edge of your desk, polished pointed shoe pivoting as he makes himself comfortable. he rests on the point of his elbow, cradling his jaw with long slim fingers.

he wraps his slender fingers around his cock, revealing it from beneath the bottom of his crisp white dress shirt. only the bottom sliver of his face is visible, soft and shapely pink lips playing at innocence, tucked teasingly between his front teeth.

your music doesn't provide a buffer anymore. on instinct, you darken your screen and slam the mute button, thumb working at the phone's volume button in excess.

but, because you have terrible vices, you slowly edge the volume back up until his soft, breathy moans rattle in your skull like a marble inside a can of spray paint.

"hey, boss," he whispers, fingers rolling over his reddened tip, cock dark pink and shining in his grip. he plays at formality, straightening his jacket lapel with his free hand. his hand drops down to cup his bare thigh, golden and soft, and slides gently over his skin, back and forth – caressing himself the same way you do. he exhales softly, back arching. the chair's leather shifts audibly. "come grab your coffee, already. aren't you thirsty? i sure am."

dropping his leg, he pushes his shirt up around his chest, and lifts his phone above him with a sound between a hum and a moan. taehyung twists in your black leather chair, its tall slim shape highlighting the way he angles his hips to accentuate his waist and hips and the way his soft thighs fill up the seat of the chair.

you close your eyes for a steadying breath, shifting on the spot as the train pulls up to your station. thank goodness you had the epiphany to wear a dark suit today. it'd be a particularly awkward gossip piece for that journalist – yes, still there – if you'd worn something lighter.

"i'll be waiting, big boy," he coos directly into your ears, the breathiness in his voice and the flush to his cheeks letting you know just how long he's been in your chair.

he's going to be the death of you.

you weave your way through the station, hurrying down the stairs with your phone in a death grip, screen off. it pings when the pedestrian crossing lights turn green and your mouth goes dry at the sight of another video, described only by date and file type. you struggle to swallow.

on his knees, lovely round ass presented to the camera, taehyung pumps three fingers in and out of his slick hole, the shine of lube dripping down his thigh. his moans are quick and muffled by the palm over his mouth, his cheeks glowing pink with desire, and his hips jerk as he pulls his knees close together. his cock presses firmly along the seam of the back of his thighs.

hissing softly, he pulls his fingers out with a slick pop, lubricated until the knuckle. he glides his fingertips around his hole, showing himself off with a soft giggle, and rocks back on them until his cock twitches. it leaks as he fucks himself with them.

"ah...! get down here, already – my fingers aren't as thick as yours, baby. m-maybe i could still come on them, though," he moans slyly, the quick slick sound of his pumping fingers jolting shivers down your spine. "gonna fucking come on myself, come on your desk – every time you enter this office, you're gonna remember the way i made you feel."

he moans with a toss of his head as his hand quickens. his leaking cock pulses and he bounces slightly on his fingers, that little bit of friction from his cock bumping his thighs almost enough.

"what is it... that you said?" he grins back at the camera, dark eyes smoky and devious. "only angels have bodies like mine? well... white was always heaven's colour."

his lips part as his dark brow furrows, his grip tightening on the back of the chair as his hips tremble. his cock explodes with cum, spurting out in thick white ropes that splatter the backs of his thighs like the sweetest glaze. he spreads his jerking, trembling thighs, and his release slowly pools on the black leather between his knees. he pants softly, wordless.

in the silence of your earbuds, your head rings with the anticipation of your pounding heart, nearly sprinting the half-block down to the skyscraper with your last name printed on it. you push through the large glass doors carelessly – they're shatterproof, and they'll survive you shouldering your way through them.

on your phone, taehyung lets out a soft exhale that sinks claws into your brain. glossy white beads drip from the edge of your chair between his unblemished legs, and if that's not a scene of the divine, then you don't know what is.

shit. hastily, you pass the receptionists and slip into an empty elevator someone left behind. swiping your card, you punch the button for the highest floor, and survive the agonising seconds up, dumping your earbuds and phone unceremoniously into your bag.

the elevator dings, and you're shoving yourself through the tiniest gap the moment it appears with a problem in your pants and a problem at your desk.

lazily, taehyung grins, pink tongue swiping over his lips. one hand strokes his pretty cock under the desk, the motion of his arm perfectly clear.

"hey there, big boy," he purrs. "finally here for your coffee, right?"

you grunt noncommittedly, extracting the bouquet of flowers from your bag before dumping the bag on the loveseat by the elevator. you place it in a white vase and wiggle it back into place on the cute pigeonhole shelf.

you turn back to him, and he's standing now, leaning forward over your desk with that same silky smile. "done with playing uncaring? come over here, make me sorry. i've broken your rules, haven't i, boss?"

"you're a real piece of work," you growl, stalking towards him and yanking him away from your desk to survey the damage. time to put in a request for a new chair. you return your gaze to taehyung, who just smiles demurely at you and strokes the bulge in your trousers.

"a piece of art, don't you like telling me?" he teases, nudging your cock with his knuckles. his smile widens as your breath skips like a record player. he pushes you towards the end of your oak desk. "you liked my presents, did you?"

"presents? that was torture," you rumble, placing your hand on top of his head and fisting a handful of his hair. you tug firmly backwards and his eyes roll back briefly as he moans, hands faltering for just a moment as he fiddles with your fly – you smirk at the sight.

his lashes flutter as he regains control, pupils dilating as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. "but you liked them, right, sir?" he asks softly, almost nervously. he fishes your cock out and his breath hitches, his lower lip tugged between his teeth as he stares up at it.

"is the sky blue, dove?" you ask, softening your voice just for him. he melts like chocolate, pressing himself sweetly into you, and you let go of his hair to card it back from his large dark eyes, tucking the stray strands behind his ears. "but i won't say it didn't surprise me. i was on the train."

"your fault when you have a perfectly good car in the garage, sir," he says with a hum, and he kisses the base of your cock. he lifts your hand back to his hair and you guide his head towards the head of your shaft. with a soft moan, he's all yours again to eat and enjoy, those dark brown eyes almost gold in the late afternoon sun.

"i'll let that sass slide because you're usually such a sweet boy," you say softly, humming as he drags his warm tongue over the ridge of your tip. "good. suck."

he loves the way you talk to him with that voice – a voice like chocolate, sweet and thick and dark. he bobs his head, stroking what he can't fit, and he moans when you hit the back of his throat, filling his mouth and stretching his jaw wide. he works at your cock, tongue lapping at the veins, tracing them to your tip and back, and closes his lips around your shaft, gradually getting all of it down his throat.

he clasps your thighs, letting himself enjoy the heft and heat of your cock filling his throat, and his eyes slide closed, the tip of his nose brushing your pelvis. you exhale softly and pat his hair to watch it bounce back into place, tugging the loose beach curls between two fingers and letting them spring back. it's incredibly soft and silky for someone who's dyed his entire head honey blond for at least as long as he's been working for you.

you cup his cheek as he bobs his head, warm tight throat swallowing your cock, constantly squeezing and fluttering, and your hand shifts to his chin, fingers pressed against the bend of his throat where it meets his jaw. gliding your fingers lower, you can feel your cock sliding against the walls of his throat. when he pulls back until just the heavy tip rests on his tongue, you feel with reverence the way he swallows it down, following the movement of the tip of your cock with each finger it passes.

below, you watch in amusement as he jerks himself off, motions quick and shallow but involving the motion of his whole arm from the shoulder. he moans as he swallows your cock, and your head falls back as your cock throbs from the tight vibrations.

"fuck, taehyung, good boy," you groan, listening to him choke and gag on it as if he couldn't get enough. saliva coats your dick, and it drips down his chin. his parted lips allow him to moan and when he closes his lips around it, he redefines the word 'suck'.

his cheeks hollow, his eyes roll back, and he's so warm and wet around you that your control snaps and you yank his head forward, burying your cock deep in him. he whimpers so perfectly when he feels your cum sliding down his throat, swallowing rapidly. his lashes flutter as he pushes himself deeper and his lips press against your base, making you grunt sharply, fingers tightening in his hair.

even when your grip loosens, your uneven breaths steadying, taehyung keeps you in his mouth, feeling his own hot cum drip down his twitching cock. he doesn't stroke himself, doesn't pull away – just contents himself during the aftermath of his high with keeping his mouth full, blinking slowly like a cat at the hazy middle-distance.

you have to slide him off your cock and he protests, whimpering softly as his nails dig into your thigh. you wrap a hand around yourself, pumping it slowly, and taehyung stares on yearningly, licking his lips subconsciously when a bead of cum slides down your tip.

"do i need to look at what you've done," you ask, though your voice remains steady at the end like a statement. "pretty thing, we are in my office. that means no messes."

"doesn't feel as good as when you're in me," he rasps, leaning up and kissing the base of your cock. "please, baby? promise i'll clean up later."

"you can't always get your way through flattery," you chuckle as he stands, tilting and falling against you as if he belongs there, wrapped in your arms. one hand travels further down and cups his ass, squeezing the supple warmth of it. he moans airily.

"it's worked so far," he whispers. "go sit down, big boy. gonna ride you like you deserve."

"what, you're going to tease this gorgeous little ass and i'm not allowed to have a taste?" you tease, and taehyung grins, pressing chest-to-chest with you. "you're a cruel man."

he smiles, still panting softly, and presses his lips to the line of your jaw. "maybe later," he murmurs. "will you clean me up and take care of me afterwards?"

"depends on my mood, pretty," you hum, guided over to your seat and watching as he sets himself atop your lap. you squeeze his thighs, sitting up against his back.

"you're a chivalrous man, boss. you wouldn't force me to walk home with your cum dripping down my leg," he chuckles, placing his ass over your cock and grinding against it. he grips the armrest and turns his head over his shoulder to kiss you, the other hand coming up to grip your hair. "mm – fuck me already. wanna feel your cock fill me up like a whore – been waiting for ages to get you alone for this."

"you could always call me outside of work, you know?"

"but where's the fun in that?" he teases, and sinks down on your cock with a breathy relieved moan that makes you shiver.

holy fuck. he's so damn warm, so wet. for a moment your thoughts fizzle out into pleasant static shooting down your spine and out to your fingers and toes. just being with him, close to him, enveloped by his faint blue cologne, makes heaven an afterthought.

when you come to and open your eyes – despite not remembering closing them – you are met with taehyung's soft smoky gaze, his warm palm cupping your cheek. he smiles, breathless, as he leans in, closing his eyes and pressing your foreheads together. "you're handsome when you come."

after taking a moment to gather yourself, you frown slightly, shifting your hands higher on his thighs. no, you are most certainly still hard. "wishful thinking, much?"

"no, that was better than watching you come." he nuzzles into your cheek and jaw, then presses your foreheads together again with a soft roll of his hips. the action has you gasping and he slots his mouth against yours, taking advantage of the moment of weakness to slip his tongue between your teeth.

knowing he, your quiet, pretty little secretary, is the one to bring you down from your pedestal, fills him with insurmountable pride. smugness, too – a healthy dose of it. after all, the media made you into the country's most eligible bachelor, and still here you were, leaning into his touch like a soft college boyfriend. you've spent every waking moment since you turned eighteen having columnists nipping at your heels and biting into your clothes, your friends, your love life, and anything else they can twist into drama or some moral fault with you. he knows how high your walls are because of it and the fact that you decided to give him a chance, to let him help you, despite looking like every one of the scandalmongers who've ever hurt you, makes him proud.

you'd never truly lost that pureness about you, that faith in people's goodness that most lose the first time they're betrayed by those they love. that is a very hard thing to do when so many close to you have had some dark immortal want to leech out of you.

taehyung's getting ahead of himself. he can start thinking such things when you start calling him your boyfriend.

"i missed you," he whispers, breath hitching as the ridge of your cockhead catches on his rim. he reaches behind himself, guiding himself onto your dick, and his fingernails dig into your shoulder as he throws his head back with a breathless moan.

"yeah?" you murmur, because you can't ever stay upset at taehyung. "it's only been a few hours. fuck. mm – couldn't have known. maybe you should've sent me a few more videos of yourself."

he tries to gasp in offence, but it comes out too breathy, too pleased. he bounces on your lap with his creamy thighs bracketing yours. "pig. why do you want videos when you have the real thing right in front of you?"

"so i can remember you on lonely nights in foreign hotel rooms."

he scoffs, chuckling softly as he circles his hips, making you groan and tighten your grip on him. he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. "give me a promotion, big boy. then your nights won't have to be so lonely."

"you and your silver tongue," you murmur, placing your hands on the curve of his ass, the tiny dip of flesh at the base of his spine. he arches into your touch with a soft sigh, clenching around you and enveloping you in his velvety heat.

"mhm. you know what my tongue can do," he teases, content to fill himself up with you and do nothing else for the rest of the day. he could sit here, pretty as a princess, for the rest of his life and he'd have no qualms about it.

you, however, have different ideas.

you hook your arms under his thighs and rise to your feet, swiping pens and papers clear of your desk and onto the floor with a clatter – he laughs – and you set him down on your desk, kissing his jaw and neck. you nip at his earlobe and he growls in warning playfully, yanking your hair to bring your throat closer to him. he sucks a hickey onto the sensitive skin, the sting giving way to pleasure far too easily.

he spreads his knees and leans back, grabbing your cock with one hand and bracing against the desk with the other, and slips you back inside him with a long moan of bliss. "y-you're so big..."

"don't stroke my ego," you chuckle, stroking his soft, smooth hips and thighs as you thrust hilt-deep into him, easier now that he's adjusted. "god knows it's big enough as it is."

"of course i have to. you're the – the top man." his breath hitches as your cock glides against his swollen prostate, dragging against it roughly with how tightly he's stretched around you. he swears he can follow the line of the veins when it rides against his gummy walls with a harsh thrust. "oh, fuck! baby!"

"that feel good, hm?" you murmur into his ear, the sweet decadence of it rolling over his brain like waves over the shore.

"yes," he moans, eyes rolling back as you press into him, a single shift of the angle of your hips enough to make his back arch and his mouth fall open. "yes, yes! ah, f-fuck, right there – right there, harder, don't stop..."

you know his body like the back of your hand. gripping his thighs until they dimple under your fingertips, you pull out until just the tip rests against his hole. with a snap of your hips, you bury yourself deep in his warmth, making him jerk and cry out. his cock spurts prematurely and he gnaws on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut to will down his budding high. his nails dig into your shoulders.

"i told you," he pants, glistening eyes raising to meet yours. "harder."

what your secretary wants, he gets.

your cock slams directly into his prostate and he gasps, whimpering softly as you set a quick, hungry pace. still unsatisfied, you push your mouth against his, tongue dipping between his lips to taste his coffee.

milk, two sugars.

he always had a sweet tooth.

his damp hair sticks to his temples, the perfect salon waves bouncing rapidly with each smack of your hips against his ass. he moans into your mouth as his cock jerks, swollen and heavy against his slim stomach. it bounces with each powerful thrust and he cries out, the sweet sound echoing in your office for anyone to hear.

he whines softly, a softer sound than he'd ever let anyone else hear. he claws at your shoulders and sides, panting against your lips and submitting to your demanding kisses with messy clouded lust. the slap of skin on skin only arouses him further and he grabs your tie in a white-knuckled grip, tugging your mouth down against his the moment it parts for air.

"close," he whimpers into the kiss, and his eyes flutter back into his skull as your cock punches the breath out of his lungs, fucking him faster, harder, deeper. he opens his eyes, half-lidded and dazed, as you sweep his hair out of his eyes, combing it back gently with your fingers.

you tug. he comes.

his velvety searing heat swallows you whole, animal in its hunger, and he digs his heels into your lower back, forcing your cock deeper in him until you have no choice but to follow him over the precipice, crashing over it like blue waves over white rock. his pleasure is engulfing, almost stifling despite his tenderness. he curls into your grasp, panting and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and his hot, shuddering breath stirs against the fine skin of your collarbone.

when your hips slow to give him a moment of respite – surely he'd want one, you thought, barely able to eke out a gasp of your name – he instead takes the chance to chastise you.

"couldn't you have... finished... any faster?" he huffs, his chest heaving as he gulps down air between words. "you've a meeting in five minutes."

with your thoughts still lingering on the image of taehyung's bliss and the clandestine knowledge that he'd made a mess on your desk, you take a moment to respond. when you do, you're incredulous.

"wait, are you trying to keep me on schedule? now?"

"it's... it's office hours. i still have to do my job." he rolls his eyes, as if you aren't balls-deep inside of him. you remind him with a few shallow, gentle thrusts – he sucks in a shaky breath and tips his head back with a shake to let his bangs fall more comfortably over his forehead. "lord knows you're not the one keeping an eye on your timetable."

"we can talk about that later, and just reschedule that damn meeting. they'll wait for me." you press your lips to the dip just beneath his ear and he hums, lazily content. then, as if remembering that he has to play bad cop and not laze in the comfort of your touch, his eyes flutter open and his mouth thins into a straight line.

"you're making a bad habit out of this," he argues. there he is – your fiery assistant. if you looked at him now, you'd never know he'd just been making dirty videos with sultry smiles.

"the best kind of habit," you murmur, shifting your hips. his breath hitches and his grip tightens involuntarily on your shoulder, making you smirk. "don't worry, taehyung. i'll give you the rest of the day off. you need one – at least today because of me."

his frown deepens at your cheeky comment, even though his cheeks flush. "i don't take days off."

"you always say that, but what are you doing right now? working hard or hardly working?" you tease, sliding your hands up his thighs and hips.

"it's – different," he manages to gasp out, clicking his tongue when your nails drag over the veins of his messy cock. "stop that. you have a meeting, remember?"

you draw your hand back. "i was working when you sent me those videos. i seem to recall you were, too. this feels unfair."

"unfair?" he repeats. "you liked them. you always like them." he pauses. "don't you?"

"i'm not sure the other people on the train appreciate your beauty as much as i do." you kiss him and he hums, accepting your tongue into his mouth with a sigh of pleasure. "don't stop sending your videos."

"is that an order, big boy?" he whispers.

"yes, it is," you reply, and he smiles, brief and sweet. you pull out of him gently, rubbing the join between his hip and thigh soothingly as he moans softly through bitten lips. "now, you have an email to write. that meeting won't postpone itself."

he huffs, allowing you to help him down from your desk. he turns around, leaning over it to grab his laptop from the corner, and you press yourself into his back and ass, teasing your cock against his hole. the coffee he grabbed for you sits cold on the edge of your desk next to the pen holder.

"tell me what the email says," you murmur into his neck, caressing his stomach with one hand and teasing his nipples with the other.

taehyung's breath shudders as he nods, opening up the calendar and shifting the meeting to three days later. moving it a few hours means you look sloppy with your time management, and so does one day. three days looks like a choice – like you have better things to do with your time. these men don't have anyone else to go to, so they'll wait for you no matter what.

"your conference with mr ln has been moved to thursday, august twenty-first. please see attached—" he closes his eyes as your hand wraps around the base of his cock, gently squeezing. "p-please see attached a link to your updated appointment."

you shrug, peppering kisses over the freckles of his neck and shoulder. "good enough. send it."

he clicks send and closes his laptop, pushing it away as you lift him into your arms. he gasps and wraps his limbs around you, holding tight as you move him to the couch on the other side of the room. you hover over him as he pants softly, staring up at you with dark eyes and plump red lips.

"by the way, i've received message that your suit's been delivered to your home," you say with a soft smile. "you're going to outshine everyone at that stupid awards ceremony."

"you say that as if you won't like seeing me in it. you can fuck me in it in the car afterwards. you bought it, after all." his eyes glint dangerously. "maybe i'll wear a surprise under it – to celebrate your successes, of course."

you grin, filthy and boyish, and taehyung's heart flutters. "you've just made me very excited for that day. come grab coffee with me after work – we can test how much space i have in my backseat."

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut

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star-suh · 5 months

Text

A Night to Remember

Hong Seunghan x Male reader

cw: top needy seunghan, stripper reader, idol au, frottage, protected sex, cum eating, nipple play, fingering.

an: idk if it's bad timing to post this sawrry, it was already scheduled.

—

seunghan was tired, he was thankful he debuted in such an amazing group but the though schedules, rehearsals, the recording songs process, learning choreography and fansigns have drained his energy. he was walking down the street at night when he saw a neon sign that caught his attention “interesting..” he muttered and entered the place.

it was a pretty place, with good lighting, velvet curtains, relaxing music and a bar with some curious liquors and cocktails. “hello how can i help you” a masculine voice echoed in seunghan's ears, he turned out and met the man “umm.. sorry i.. i was just walking and saw the neon sign. it made me curious so i entered the place” he says bluntly.

“oh ok i understand” the man with a butler like suit responds “in this place we offer a space so that men who are tired of everyday life can relax, either drinking their favorite umm drink” he laughs “while the music at a low volume calms them down. also if they want something more entertaining and spicy there is a special striptease service, this can be private or public as the client prefers” he spoke clasping his hands “so what do you want sir?”.

“i think i'm gonna order a drink and a private striptease show please” seunghan answered pulling out his wallet to pay. “over here” the butler hands him the drink and signals a room for him to enter “our stripper will be coming here soon, wait for him please”.

the liquid in his glass was already about to run out when the door opened, and there appeared a boy in a lustful devil costume. he had a collar from which a red tie hung, bracelets on her arms and a black thong that lefts nothing to the imagination, he also has a big spear on his hand.

“who's this naughty man waiting to be punished” cockily says the guy provoking a smirk to appear on seunghan's face, already loving the show.

y/n started doing a lap dance on seunghan, letting him touch every part of his body, groping his ass, playing with his nipples. every touch form seunghan leaving a burning sensation on y/n's skin. the man taking control of the situation unbuttoned the collar leaving only the tie on the dancer's neck and moving the thong slightly to the sight he toyed with y/n's hole noticing there's a plug on it “damn i wonder who is the naughty one here” he expressed.

a path of kisses that started from y/n's chest ended on his mouth with a desperate kiss between the two of them, their tongues fighting for dominance and exploring each other's mouths. seunghan pulled out the plug and started to finger the rim, feeling how warm it was, he then unzipped his pants pulling out his thick meat, slapping it against the hole. “so desperate for me” y/n looked down on seunghan kissing and sucking his nipples “i have a lot of accumulated stress that i need to release” he snickered.

y/n's hand reaches for the nearest drawer looking for a condom “here big boy” y/n hands the latex object to the top who quickly rips the pack and rolls it down his shaft.

y/n sank down the other's cock enjoying every inch of pleasure the top gave him. they stay still hugging between them while waiting for y/n to adjust to seunghan's size. then y/n's hips started with the up and down motion, squeezing that juicy throbbing cock “shit” sighed the guy “i really needed this. thank you so much for helping me”. “you're welcome” the stripper says, kissing him seconds later.

seunghan thrusts were sloppy, he was just focused on feel all the pleasure he could, forgetting about everything and just living the present “such a good stress reliever” he blurted out, teeth biting y/n's nipples. the other was a moaning blushing mess, it's true that this was his work but something with seunghan just make it somewhat more special, like he's being gentle but it produces the same pleasure or even much more than those who fuck y/n rough. “yes right there baby, keep fucking that spot”..

y/n started playing with seunghan's chest, toying with his nipples, feeling every crevice from his abs. “are you gonna cum handsome” the stripper asked and the other male just nodded and went straight to kiss him. seunghan locked his arms around y/n accelerating his thrust wanting to release all the tension that has been built during the whole session. y/n can feel the cock throbbing inside him, pumping all the sperm inside the condom but still y/n could feel the warm sensation of the liquid.

when seunghan pulled out the condom was bulging with a ton of semen “this cannot be wasted” talked y/n, removing the condom from seunghan's shaft and then slipping the content directly into his mouth and swallowing it with some of it dripping down his mouth and sweaty chest “yummy” smirked the stripper while a speechless seunghan looked at him “hold on, you haven't cum yet” the top said, “it's ok, as long as you are satisfied” y/n just smiled.

“no come here” seunghan forces y/n to straddle him joining both cocks and started to rub them both with his big hands “let me give you back some of the pleasure you gave me” he whispered, moving his hands up and down. both cocks came at the same time looking like a fountain of sperm flowing down the shafts and seunghan's hands, both males moaned in unison riding their highs while catching their breath. y/n grabbed seunghan's hands and lick them clean. sharing a last kiss y/n waves a goodbye and leave the room.

y/n was already leaving work and was about to start walking towards his home when a “hey” made him stop, he turned around and found himself face to face with seunghan again. “oh hey” a flustered y/n scratched his neck “what are you doing here?” he questioned. “i was waiting for you to come out and i.. i just wanted to know if you're free tomorrow. i.. i want to invite you to a night at the amusement park” he was trying to hide his flustered state but failed miserably.

on the other hand y/n was just as flustered as him “umm.. haha sure, here” he handed his phone to seunghan so he could save his number there “see you tomorrow i guess” y/n smiled, making seunghan smile too.

#seunghan x male reader #seunghan x male reader smut #hong seunghan x male reader smut #hong seunghan x male reader #riize x male reader #riize smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut

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01zfan · 1 month

Text

muscle memory | p. wb

waiter!wonbin x waitress!reader | 5.9k words

WONBIN ANON(S) THIS ONE IS FOR Y’ALL!

contains: random idols mentioned for world building, semi-public sex, unprotected sex

you sat next to the pass waiting for the food you ordered for your table to be put out. it was ironically one of the few areas in the restaurant where you could gather your thoughts despite objectively being in the middle of all the chaos. this was the one place in the restaurant where you could actively see all moving parts in the restaurant coming together. next to the pass was also the personal dining room of you and your coworkers, the designated spot where discarded food was up for grabs. so you basked in the organized chaos of your restaurant while eating almost cold parmesan aioli fries.

from your seat on your barstool you could see the cooks in the open faced kitchen work preparing people’s food. you could see the fire coming to life in their woks, and how they didn’t flinch away. you could hear them yelling out terms and phrases to eachother about dishes. you perked up when you heard the items of the dish you were waiting for be called out. you looked down the line quickly, but went back to your slouching position when nothing you needed was there.

you sat there eating the discarded food, half focused on putting something in your empty stomach while half focused on the sounds around you. you waited to hear the signature ding of a new dish being done, but all your ears could pick up was the sound of more tickets being printed and the low-volume music playing in the kitchen. if you got close enough enough and if it was loud enough you could sometimes recognize the words and sing along. you had built up a rapport with them that way, singing along to their songs and passing along compliments from the customers. when they were feeling generous enough, they would even prioritize your staff meal and actually make your on the fly items quickly.

you couldn’t decipher the song in the kitchen. it was drowned out by the million other sounds happening around you. you heard your fellow server yelling into the kitchen about something being made wrong. you looked up to see it was giselle, nearly sitting on the pass to lean as far as she could into the kitchen. any argument she tried to start failed. you knew it would be forgotten after closing, but in the moment it seemed intense. curses were being thrown over the wall on both sides and made it down the line. you wondered if you would have to call for shotaro to mediate the situation, but everyone seemed unbothered as they continued with their job. in less than a minute, giselle was handed her food and she had a smile on her face as she made her way back to the dining room. after seeing the exchange, all you could do was shake you head and go back to your fries.

you had learned a long time ago to stand off to the side when altercations happen. you only recently got in the good graces of most the people you worked with. the last thing you needed was to be put on someone’s shit list for rightfully asking for your food to be ready, or to ask them to calm down.

that was a big problem you developed working here. becoming fine with getting the short end of the stick. if anton sat a seven-top, two five-tops, and three two-tops in your section you only smiled and nodded your head. if someone asked you to come in for them even if you didn’t want to, you said yes. if one of your coworkers asked for your helped even if you were swamped you ran twice as fast to make sure you could save them. you never dared to yell, stomp your feet, or say no. you took it as penance for no other reason than simply existing. you knew everyone was aware of your pushover personality, you just hoped eventually they would give you grace.

normally, you would’ve set your foot down by now, at the very least set up boundaries for your coworkers on what they could ask for. you practiced the speech a million times, each one unique to the unfair things your coworkers would ask for. anton it would be about sitting too many big parties in your section. giselle would be how she rushes too much. winter would be about her laziness when it comes to being on the pass. sungchan’s would be that he helps too much, making you feel inferior at your job. but you keep it all at bay for penance, to make yourself pay for how you unfairly judged your perfect coworker.

you had been hired at the company two months ago. it was hard to navigate at first, having to swallow your pride from not finding a job in your career field. any shame you felt melted after hearing their were multiple “young professionals” at your job. you were even more excited to hear that there was actually someone else with the exact same degree as you, and seemingly went to the same school as you. before you could ask any questions the interview went on, and any questions about other people cleared your mind when you got the job.

when wonbin almost ran into you on your first day, you dropped all of your drinks. it came as a surprise, seeing a face you hadn’t seen in so long. he was different, his black hair that never touched his ears went past his chin now, and he was faster on his feet. he also was the apodeictic leader of the waitstaff, earned through his lack of mistakes, ability to speak his mind, and being a guest favorite. in that moment it became clear who the person that had the same major as you was, and it was too late to quit. you had gotten a taste for the money, and this was the only job on the market that would hire you.

so you stuck through it, swallowing your pride each time wonbin helped you correct a mistake or appease an angry customer. you were grateful for the help, and to have someone who knew what they were doing by your side. something would randomly hit you like a pang in your chest realizing wonbin was better at this than you. all the times you bested him in school seemed to pale in comparison to this, something that actually mattered.

while you were with your trainer sungchan you were distracted, keeping an eye out for wonbin so you could ignore his gaze. what bothered you even more was the fact that wonbin was unbothered. with an exception for the first time he saw you, everything was business as usual with him. he was nothing like the wonbin you used to know, who was petty and didn’t let things go. this wonbin didn’t bring up your past to you or anyone who asked how you two knew eachother. this wonbin only simply said you two went to school together, greatly undermining the time you two together.

working with wonbin took weeks to get used to. they were slow steps forward, finally making it out of the initial awkwardness to exchange pleasantries.

you finally were able to have a conversation with your coworkers while wonbin was present. before you would simply go silent when he came around, avoiding eye contact when he would ask you a question directly.

the conversation was what it normally was during slow mornings, complaints regarding work. you had to spend a ridiculous amount of money on the uniform with no help from upper levels of management. sungchan and giselle shared your complaints, even talking about how later down the line you would have to pay for dry cleaning.

“what would you suggest to fix the situation?” wonbin asked.

it was a question directed at you, unavoidable as wonbin titled his head. you thought for a moment before keeping eye contact with wonbin.

“they could have designated days of the month where they take all of our stuff to dry clean for cheap.” you reasoned.

you felt your heart pound in your chest as you held eye contact with wonbin. you were expecting a rebuttal from him, from anyone before you saw sungchan nod his head.

“there’s discounts for bulk at that place a couple blocks down.” giselle said.

“they could also pay us for buying parts of our uniform.” you added on.

”that would be a dream.” sungchan said.

all of you nodded in agreement before dispersing to get back to your jobs. wonbin hesitated for a second, and your own steps faltered. but he only cleared his throat and went his separate way to tend to a newly sat table.

within two says, there was a list pinned to the corkboard wall for dry cleaning. three times a month, designated days were listed neatly. you already saw a few names, wonbin’s at the very top. you also saw a stack of new waiter aprons and a request sheet to fill out for missing or replacement uniform pieces. you looked around in the break room, feeling angry burn in your chest and eyes. you were hostile the rest of the day, taking it out of your coworkers and customers that were snappy to you first. you didn’t let it out until you caught wonbin in the back of house, sitting in the managers chair as he collected his tips. the anger surged through your fingertips and your feet, causing you to stomp into the room.

“really wonbin?” you called out.

he seemed confused, looking up from his money to your frown.

“what?” wonbin asked.

“i get that this is the first time in your life probably being in a higher up position, but that doesn’t give you the right to claim them as your own.” you quietly yelled.

wonbin sat in the chair, staring at you in shock while your chest finally loosened. the shock and confusion was replaced anger of his own, and you could see wonbin take a deep breath before leaning back in the chair. he looked at you with a calm and even expression now, your exact opposite. he turned in his chair to go back to counting the money.

“i see you haven’t changed one bit.” he said simply.

somehow, that hit you harder than any insult could’ve. it had you averting your gaze from wonbin again, focusing on stacks of paper and the sound of the printer. he said nothing else to you, just letting you bask in the shame of your anger.

when you turned tail to leave you were face to face with a manager, thanking you for your smart idea about the dry cleaning.

“hands please!” winter yelled down the pass.

you snapped up from the barstool, swallowing the week old memory and the stale food so fast it felt like a lump in your throat. you wiped your face with the back of your hand before using a wet napkin to clean your fingers.

you made a straight line for winter working on expo while pinching your server apron between your fingers to dry them. winter’s piercing voice was like a bat signal for the servers, when she spoke suddenly everyone was there. sohee pushed open the two-way door from the kitchen to come to her, with sungchan trailing close behind. eunseok and seunghan were lucky they didn’t have to worry about friday nights, but they had their own personal hell on sunday mornings.

winter handed off everyone’s dishes one by one. you saw more and more people rush off as they had the orders they needed. you waited patiently for winter to hand you the plates.

by the time almost everyone else was gone, you were left with your ungarnished plates.

“i’m swamped, and desserts are coming out soon. can you finish this off for me?” winter asked.

winter posed it as a question and you knew you could say no, but it felt like an order. she barely finished her sentence before she was moving back down the pass, tearing the tickets off to impale them on the metal spindle next to your fries. the pass was empty, and winter relaxed on the barstool to eat your food.

your response to winter sat at the tip of your tongue. your stomach growled, and you started to imagine your tables waiting for their food. were they hungry like you were while you watched winter scarf down the rest of your fries? you could’ve told winter no, to tell her to do your job like you had to do yours. but when you saw wonbin coming to the pass from the dining room you bit your tongue before turning to your plates to garnish.

wonbin saw you finishing the plating. he had empty plates in his hand and was making a path for the dishwasher, but you garnishing your dishes stopped him dead in his tracks. he turned to look at and winter quickly turned to look at him, getting up from her seat to try and look busy working. he saw right through it, tilting his head as she looked at the blank computer screen.

“really winter?” wonbin said.

she quickly shrugged and her eyes got wide to defend herself.

“she doesn’t mind.” she said defensively.

wonbin got a little closer, trying not to make his voice heard.

“she has three large parties all sat within five minutes of eachother. you should do your job so she can do hers.” he said.

winter’s eyes softened sympathetically when wonbin told her about the amount of people. she nodded her head and wonbin headed off to the back of house. he passed by you while you finished your final dish, not sparing you a second glance.

you strategically placed the dishes on the bigger black plate, hoisting it off the pass to rest it on your shoulder. you stole a glance at wonbin for a second, and you could see his eyes dart to the amount of food balancing on your shoulder. the food to feed your seven-top weighed down on you, but you had to start getting the food out now to give yourself grace for the five-top. you could feel winter’s eyes on you as you slowly found the right position for the plate. you turned and started heading for the dining room when you saw sungchan heading straight towards you.

before you could head to the dining room with your food, winter called out to you.

“i have to get this food out to my table.” you said as politely as possible.

“i’ll garnish for the rest of the night. sorry about that.” winter apologized.

the food started to hurt your shoulder, but the acknowledgement and apology from winter made the food feel a little lighter. you nodded your head thankfully before turning back to the dining room.

the rest of the dinner rush went as expected. things went wrong, you had to be bailed out, you had to bail others out. you got tipped well sometimes but got tipped the worst for the bigger parties. you wore yourself ragged jumping up and down for the customers and your coworkers. you ended up staying behind to do opening duties, something that should’ve been reserved for the openers. you were the last of the waitstaff to leave, saying a goodbye to your manager as he locked the door behind you.

when you finally left through the back door into the parking lot, your shift was nearly eleven hours. a quarter after one, calculating your route home made your slippers drag across the paved parking lot as you made your way to your car. you could feel some gravel find its way between the slipper and your foot. the small sharp rock poked through your sock and was stabbed against your foot, but you didn’t care. it paled in comparison to the pain of being on your feet all day. maybe the acupuncture could relieve some of the stress that weighed down on your shoulders.

the sound of your car waking up to you pressing the unlock button distracted you from wonbin on the other side of the parking lot. it wasn’t until he rolled down his manual windows and called out your name that you saw he was there. you have to blink a few times to realize who it was. exhaustion made your eyes droop and a little blurry. when your vision focussed you saw he was beckoning you to come to him. you looked at your car, so ready for you to get inside and drive home. but the guilt your situation carried your tired legs to wonbin’s car. he motioned you to the passenger side. you pulled on the lock handle once, and after wonbin let out an evil giggle he unlocked the door.

you sat quietly in the passenger seat, listening to the quiet music in wonbin’s car. you were only illuminated by the lamppost in the parking lot and the small light in the front seat. you stared straight ahead, awkwardly sitting upright waiting for wonbin to say what he needed to say. his thumbs tapped on his steering wheel, trying to get out what he needed to say.

“you’re overworked.” he said.

you scoffed and shook your hair lightly. you pressed a finger to your temple and turned to look outside.

“everyone is overworked.” you say.

“you are taking on a bigger workload for no reason.” you kept your head turned outside, desperately trying to ignore the caring tone in wonbin’s voice. “just because someone tells you to do something, doesn’t mean you have to.” he says.

“i do it because i want to.” you say quietly.

now it’s wonbin’s turn to scoff at you. you turn your head and narrow your eyebrows.

“what?” you say defensively.

“you want to garnish your own dishes when you have two five-tops and a seven-top waiting on their food?” wonbin asked you a question, but didn’t wait for your answer before shaking his head “give me a break.” he said.

you clench your hands at your sides, trying desperately to remain calm. but wonbin finds ways to push your buttons, found ways to make you so mad. the fake worry, the way he watched your every move without you knowing, the way he was right.

“it’s none of your business what i do.” you said.

“are you just going to keep letting everyone boss you around? do you plan on ever standing up for yourself?” he said.

wonbin had let of of the steering wheel, using his hands to argue with you like he always used to do. you cross your arms into your chest and tilt your head condescendingly.

“you don’t know anything.” you sneer.

“i know you’re making yourself suffer for no reason.” wonbin takes off his beanie, running a stressed hand through his hair. you keep your eye on his hand after sparing a glance to how his hair falls perfectly on his face. “is it because you thought i stole your ideas? so you just don’t advocate for yourself anymore?” he asked.

the incident hadn’t been brought up by either of you since it transpired. you half hoped he would’ve forgotten, but you knew wonbin always remembered. you had to pretend like you didn’t care when you shook your head, turning to look out the window.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lied.

“oh okay.” wonbin laughed. “just because you think we still have childish beef from college doesn’t mean you get to act the way you do.”

“i’m just not used to you being better than me at things.” you say.

it’s a challenge, the way you look at wonbin from your relaxed position on the door. you let your eyes go over his face a million times, resting on his lips after you lick yours. you almost forgot about the rush you got with pushing wonbin’s buttons. the feeling was freeing after a long day of running around for other people all day without saying a single smart remark.

wonbin thinks about the type of person he is now. he thinks about how you two have been in this situation before, with you baiting him. you looked at him the same way you did now. back then he perceived the look in your eye as combative. but now, realization dawned on him. how he had never noticed before was beyond him. his eyes got wide as you leaned in with a smirk on your face. wonbin is timid, refusing to let his mind do something he might regret.

you the one that closes the space between you and wonbin by coming over the center console. you linger there for a second, waiting for his hand to come to your neck before you pull away.

”i’m not sorry by the way,” you brush hair out of wonbin’s face. “you should’ve told you were going to do that before you did it.” you say.

wonbin nods his head, completely giving up any argument he could’ve had with you. your smile is bright—you’ve bested him at another thing.

“i’ll do whatever you want.” he said.

you smiled before going back to wonbin’s lips. his hand on the back of your neck kept you in place, and his tilting head forced you to let him take the lead. you fought for it back through an iron grip on his shirt, pulling him forward.

wonbin settled for letting you stick your tongue in his mouth to let his hand wander your body. he rested over your chest, lightly squeezing your breasts before moving down to your hips. he pulled you forward slightly, a hand underneath your ass lifting for from your seat. you pull away and sigh. wonbin looks at your expectantly, and you let him worry for just a moment before clearing the center console with your legs and straddling him.

“you’re still bossy.” you said matter-of-factly.

“you know, i’m technically not your boss.” wonbin said.

he waited to say it until after his lips were already glossy with your spit and you were straddling his lap. even if whatever you were going to end up doing to wonbin wasn’t allowed, you were too far in now to back down. nothing he said would’ve stopped you from working the buttons on his shirt, or his hands that cupped your chest.

“we can’t get in trouble for whatever we do.” wonbin continued.

he looked up from your chest to look at you. he let your hand go to the buttons on his shirt before he went to yours. it was deliberate and slow, each button made the tension in the car go up. your shirts weren’t even undone all the way before your lips clashed together again.

the kisses were messy like they always were. both of your tongues were mingling, the wet muscles causing a mess on the corner of your lips. the sound of spit being swapped filled the car, and wt kisses cooled the heating skin of your faces. your hands gripped wonbin’s shoulders, and his hand went to your pants. the button was stubborn and wonbin got no help from his shaky hands. it took entirely too long to get your pants open enough for wonbin to plunge his hand underneath the waistband of your panties.

instantly, wonbin almost cursed at your desperation. you were so wet the fabric of your underwear stuck to your folds. he wasted no time slowly sliding a finger into your heat, his eyes focused on your face when he made it to the knuckle. he put his second finger in a little faster, bending them when you brought his lips back in for a kiss.

by the time wonbin put his third finger in your kisses devolved to sucking on his bottom lip. the way you were rutting your hips against his hand and gripping his bicep to keep his hand in place. wonbin watched you use him, unbothered by your desperation. seeing you get wound up so easily and hearing a quiet song about being all alone and needing someone made his dick twitch in his pants.

“been awhile?” wonbin asked.

wonbin’s words were laced with amazement, half talking about himself. the lewd wet sounds and whimpers from you both were already filling up the small space of his car. he was trying to make you feel better while you were still defensive. something in your mind still convincing you everything wonbin said was meant to be sarcastic, even if his pupils were blown wide looking at you.

“shut up.” you whine.

your whiny voice made your words bite less, and the way your hole fluttered around his fingers made wonbin want to keep going. he brought a hand behind your back to pull you further onto his lap. you pressed your chest against wonbin’s, still helplessly rocking your hips into his hand while whimpering into the crook of his neck. he cooed at you and gripped your side to keep you in place. it was the same bruising grip he would have on you in the relationship, one that he would always look at in pride the next morning.

his fingers pushed inside of you at a skilled pace, wonbin would have to pat himself on the back for keeping such a steady groove while he was getting needier by the second. too many times in your relationship he would get lost and chase his own pleasure, going to fast for your liking. but wonbin was matured now, he changed. he could finger you at a pace that made you want more instead of giving you too much, and he could hit the spots you used to like despite the awkward angling in his car. he bent his fingers, smirking to himself when he could feel your body tense.

“fuck.” you moaned into his neck.

you reached out a tongue to lick the hot skin of wonbins neck. he preened closer to your mouth, the only hint he would drop that he wanted you to mark him like old times.

wonbin figured you got the hint, because a desperate hand pushed down his work uniform to uncover previously hidden parts of his neck and chest. your eyes scanned for a second, trying to figure out how high your marks could go while still being hidden. you went for a place on his collarbone and your lips found the perfect spot as if from muscle memory.

“no one will see.” wonbin said.

his hands went to your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants. he wedged one hand into your pants, reaching all the way down until he could get a handful of you.

you continued sucking on his skin as your hands went down to the tent in wonbin’s pants. you moved so hasty that you didn’t bother with the button. all you did was unzip his pants before reaching into the fly of his underwear to grab his dick. wonbin hiss as he bucked his hips into your hand. his tip was angry and red, glossy from the precum that seemed never ending. his dick sat upright and fit perfectly into your fist.

you wasted no time running your hand up and down wonbin’s length, the sound echoing off the walls in his car. wonbin started sucking on the exposed skin of your chest and laving any area his tongue could reach. you let your body lean back, a spare hand moving your shirt to expose more skin to wonbin. his hands started at your hips and worked their way up, grabbing anything he could. when wonbin got to the nape of your neck he pulled you in for a kiss. desperation from only getting chaste kisses turned to you pumping wonbin’s length faster. he continued to kiss you softly, hissing when the teeth of his zipper rubbed against his sensitive skin.

“does it hurt?” you asked breathlessly.

wonbin nods, reaching for the button of his pants. your shaking hands work together to unbutton the top, and you lift yourself up so wonbin can slide his pants halfway down his thighs.

you two look so pitiful, clothes only half off with forming bruises on your skin. the two of you were breathless only from making out and close to climaxing only from feeling eachother up. you almost forgot you were in the empty parking lot of your job, acting like a reckless horny teenager. if you had half a mind you would’ve gotten dressed and driven home to get ready for your shift tomorrow. but wonbin’s swollen lips called to you, and his dick twitched in your hand without you doing anything. you felt like you were wearing too many clothes and wonbin’s front seat gave you no space.

“should we go to the backseat?” wonbin asked.

you crawled over the center console a little to quickly. you laid down in the backseat, lifting your hips to take off your slacks and panties while wonbin put the driver seat back up. you kicked off your shoes and socks, putting them in the space behind your seat. your button up and bra followed, leaving you completely naked in wonbin’s backseat.

the situation barely had time to settle before wonbin was naked and following you to the back.

“how do you want it?” wonbin asked.

“i don’t know what position is best for car sex.” you said.

you forgot to lace your voice with sarcasm, or something sharp to show wonbin you were still mad. the words only came out whiny, putting a smile on wonbin’s face.

“just tell me what you want,” he runs a finger over the mark on your chest. “it’ll be a nice change of pace for you.” he smiles.

“you’re an asshole.” you said.

you roll your eyes before turning around. wonbin moves back, trying to give you the amount of space you need to get into your position. wonbin knew that you would put your ass up and spread your legs far enough where wonbin could slot between them. he helped you, moving your foot to plant on the floor in front of his so you could find more stability.

”spit” wonbin ordered.

his hand was underneath your mouth, and you gathered the saliva in your mouth to fall into his palm. wonbin’s hand retreated, and you could hear the sound of him spitting and his hand running up and down his dick.

“i haven’t done this in a long time.” wonbin tells you.

wonbin’s wet hand presses on your ass to bring you down slightly. when you hear him moving forward behind you and his tip prods at your entrance, you feel yourself getting lightheaded. the feeling almost makes you forget that you have to atleast try to be a little responsible.

“me neither. but you have to pull out.” you say.

“okay baby.” wonbin says behind you.

“i’m not your baby,” you almost recant your statement when wonbin pushes inside of you. “oh my god.” you moan.

“holy shit.” wonbin curses.

he’s still inside of you when he bottoms out. your walls waste no time clamping around him, almost like they’re trying to keep him inside of you. it’s blinding, and your body tries to adjust to the feeling of wonbin being inside of you again. you barely get used to the stretch before wonbin pulls out and pushes in again.

“so perfect. fits so perfect.” wonbin says.

you can only nod and whimper in agreement when he pushes in again. wonbin’s other hand presses to the side of your ass, spreading both cheeks. something so simple has you feeling something completely different. your whimpers turn you both into moaning messes as wonbin starts thrusting into your spread cunt. your skin is clammy, and wonbin’s hips start pressing against your ass faster and faster. you had to place a hand on the door in front of you for stability. when you tried pushing your hips back to meet wonbin’s he moaned behind you.

“i got you.” he said absentmindedly.

you reacted by reaching your other hand back, reaching for any part of him. wonbin gave you his hand, and then leaned forward to press his sweaty chest to your back.

“wonbin.” you cried.

“i know. i know.” he cooed.

wonbin wrapped his hand around your body, bringing his fingers down to your clit. you could feel his breath hot on the shell of your ear, and you could hear the sounds the sounds he stopped trying to contain. you lifted your back up slightly to be completely pressed against wonbin, so closed you could feel his heart thudding against your back. he sucked on your shoulder blades and let go of your hand wedged between your two bodies to place it over the hand on the door.

“are you close?” wonbin whispered into your ear.

“yes. so close.” you said.

wonbin continued his revolutions on your clit, and started rutting his hips into yours. he was close too, and it took everything in him to not lose himself then and there.

“kiss me baby.” wonbin nearly begged.

you didn’t have to be asked twice to turn your head as far as it would go. wonbin caught your lips hurriedly, placing kisses to your jaw and cheek before kissing your lips successfully. he was overstimulating you both, becoming distracted between all the ways you touched. the fogged windows of his car only made everything worse, heat just circling the area between you two.

you completely froze and no longer kissed wonbin back when you came. it was too hard to focus, each time your walls clamped around wonbin’s dick made you whine out helplessly. you wanted to cry when wonbin pulled away from your body to pull out. your sweat cooling on your ass and back mixed with wonbin’s hot cum. he moaned and pumped his length. he finally letting himself quickly rub at your clit to match the pace of his hand on himself. he kept going, long after the ropes stopped, trying to prolong the feeling of you both experiencing your highs together.

wonbin didn’t pull his hands away until your legs shook and a weak hand pushed his away. your ass went lower and lower and you said nothing while you caught your breath.

wonbin went to the center console of his car, opening it up to pull out napkins from his various takeout orders. he was delicate wiping himself from your back despite wishing he could keep it there forever. you murmured a tired thank you, still in your resting position. wonbin let himself slump into the seat after he cleaned you up, still trying to catch his breath as he pulled up his underwear. he looked at his foggy windows, then to you. wonbin let himself run his hands down the line of your back before affectionately tapping your butt.

“are you alright?” wonbin asked.

your moved from your spot, back on the seat to get more comfortable. wonbin could see sleep pull at your eyelids as you slowly nodded.

“tired.” you said simply.

wonbin nodded knowingly, moving your body so your head rested on his lap. it wasn’t long before your eyes closed all the way, muttering something about giving you ten minutes.

“go ahead.” wonbin ran his hands over creases of your face soothingly. “you got time.” he said

#requestz #01zfan: wonbin #wonbin smut #riize smut

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whimsyfinny · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: provocative dancing, slight Sam x Reader, jealous Dean

Chapter Word Count: 4211

—-MDNI—-

A/N: So I had to post this chapter in 2 parts because of how long it was and the formatting was weird otherwise. So here we are, and 2 part chapter! But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

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Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 pt. 1

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 8 - Part 2

Charlie eventually left after a few hours of convincing Sam and Dean that I would be absolutely fine infiltrating the club without them. At least at first. Some negotiations took place and after a while we all came to an agreement - I’d go in, scope the place out and unlock every door before leaving and letting the boys take over, handing over the intel on who everyone was and where they were stationed. This would make the kills less messy and reduce civilian casualties. Once this decision was made, we ate dinner before the guys went back upstairs to get as much information on the strip club as possible, whilst I went to finish the laundry from earlier.

I’d dropped Sam’s clothes off in his room before I headed Deans room to deposit his. Upon arriving, I twisted the handle and let myself in, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him before placing the neat stacks of clothing on his bed. Patting the top on the piles to ensure they wouldn’t topple over, I was turning to leave when something caught my eye. It was a pile of napkins and receipts crumpled up and tossed in the bin by the door - the same ones that made me feel so deflated earlier today. I smiled, feeling some semblance of relief course through me as I made my way upstairs again. As I walked I pondered; the Winchesters unknowing of the fact that I’d spent a short amount of time taking exotic dance classes. My ex boyfriend had paid for them so I could give him a ‘private show’ in cheap lingerie, and not to toot my own horn but I was pretty good at what I did back then so this should be a breeze. The only thing was that now I had a point to prove, and boy was I going to prove it.

I strode into the room where the boys were - Deans head in his hands and Sam’s face pressed to the inside of a book that was open on the table. He could have been asleep, if it wasn't for the fact that his eyes opened when I walked in. Without saying a word I grabbed an empty chair and set it in the middle of the room away from the desks and bookcases, making both men flinch at the abruptness.

“What are you doing?” Dean quizzed, lifting his head from his hands.

“Proving to you that I’m perfect for this case.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and I was unsure if he was catching on. I grabbed his phone from the table, unlocking it and finding the perfect song to play, settling on ‘Apocalyptic’ by Halestorm. At the start of the music he seemed to realise what was going on and he sat up eagerly, watching me intently as I undid my hair from its ponytail. I ruffled it up close to the roots, putting some volume in there as he went to stand up. I placed my fingertips on his chest and pushed gently, making him sit back down in his chair. I shook my head.

“Not you.”

He looked at me, puzzled; however his jaw dropped when I took Sam’s hand and urged him to stand. Sam had been paying minimal attention and just about knew what was going on when I gently pushed on his toned stomach, moving him backwards towards the chair in the middle of the room. I felt my heart do a small flip at the sheer size of the younger Winchester, this being my first time standing so close to him. And he smelt softer than Dean - less leather and gunpowder and more mint and fresh linens. I looked up at Sam through my lashes, watching his chest rise and fall more rapidly than before as he scanned my face. I smiled.

“Just relax, Sam. I Promise I don’t bite - at least not unless you want me to,” as the words left my lips I heard a SNAP and looked over at Dean, who’d now crushed the pencil he was using into splinters. I couldn’t help but smirk, starting to enjoy this perhaps a little more than I should. I pushed on Sam’s hips, urging him to sit, now in perfect view of his older brother. I stood in between Sam’s thighs and looked down at him, watching how his big eyes followed my hands as I slid them down over his shoulders and chest before running them back up again, tracing a single finger up over his Adam’s apple and tilting his chin up to look at me. The moment his eyes met mine his lips parted slightly and I leaned in close, so close that I could almost taste him. He let out the quietest groan and I whispered over his lips:

“I’ll try to make this enjoyable.”

I was bending over slightly, feeling my already very short skirt ride up. I sashayed around Sam, swaying my hips to the music and trailing my hands over his body with feather-light touches. Every time I did I felt him tense up or let out a small noise, especially when I crouched down behind the chair and slid myself underneath it, appearing between his legs and pushing myself up, my own legs straight and spread wide as I leant forwards. I now faced Dean, making eye contact with him as he watched me slide my hands up Sam’s thighs as I perched myself in his lap, swaying my hips as I pressed into him. I heard him suck in a breath at the contact, his manhood twitching in his jeans beneath the softness of my ass. I brought my knees and ankles together in a ladylike fashion before spreading them wide again, my legs pressing hard into the inside of Sam’s thighs. Deans knuckles went white as I ran my hands over my body and through my hair, biting my bottom lip sensually. Feeling Sam’s hands graze my knees, they slowly started to trail up my thighs as he snuck touches in where he could. My heart fluttered in my chest - his hands were already treating me far more gently than Deans did. I let him touch me for a few moments before I smacked his hands away and stood up. Spinning to face him I flipped my hair back, and slowly - oh so slowly - traced my hands down my own figure. As I outlined every curve I lowered myself so I was kneeling right before him - right between his legs that were spread wide like my own as my bare knees rested on the cold floor. I ghosted my hands up the inside of his thighs as he let out a shaky breath. I smiled up at him, but it seemed he was past the niceties as I noticed how dark his eyes had gone. I drew my hands back and spun around so I was now facing Dean whilst still nestled between Sam’s thighs. The older brother had pulled his chair out for a better view as his elbows rested on his knees as his large palms came together - as though in prayer - in front of his plump, kissable lips. He stared at me, unmoving and barely blinking, as though he were in a trance. Still on my knees, I threw Dean a coy grin before I placed my hands on the floor and walked them forwards, my ass now completely on show to Sam as my denim skirt did nothing to keep me covered. My back dipped in a feline manner as my chest came into contact with the floor, and I couldn’t help but think to myself that I would put money down that Dean loves this position for rough, pleasure-seeking sex. I hummed to myself at the thought of him fucking me into his mattress like this; one large, rough hand on my hip and the other propping himself up over me as he would moan my name and I would lose myself in his bedsheets.

I tore myself away from my daydream by sliding my hands forward so I was laying on my front before rolling onto my back, tilting my head back so I was looking at Dean upside down, my hair pooling around me. I gnawed on my bottom lip again as I planted both feet on the floor so my knees were bent and touching, before lifting one leg as gracefully as I could into the air and pointing my toes. Reaching my arms up, I gently touched my ankle and trailed my fingers over my leg, up my thigh - catching on my skirt and lifting it higher - along the soft skin of my exposed torso and over my breasts. I then dragged my fingers through my hair and over my scalp, my outstretched arms lifting my tank top a little - flashing Sam some braless underboob. I heard him moan and shuffle in his chair, however my eyes were still locked with Deans, and I watched as the older brother leant back and spread his legs a little wider, adjusting himself in his jeans as he laced his fingers together over his abdomen. Without missing a beat, I flipped myself back over onto my stomach and played the previous motions in reverse - sliding upwards so I was on all fours and then back to being just on my knees. I turned so I was facing Sam again, grinning at his hooded eyes and slack jaw as I placed my hands on his knees and pushed myself up to standing. I stepped around him slowly, my hands running down his broad shoulders as I moved to stand behind him. I leant down and whispered into his ear, his head dipping to the side slightly as my breath fanned out over his hot skin:

“Admit it, I’m perfect for the case.”

I watched his eyes flutter closed as he replied in a breathy voice.

“Yes… you’re perfect…” he paused, like he’d forgotten to finish his sentence, “…perfect for the case, I mean.”

I smiled as I stood up straight, catching Deans piercing gaze again.

“I’m going to bed - it’s been a long day. You boys should too,” my voice came out perhaps a little more sultry than I expected.

They both nodded, humming in response as I turned away, walking to my bedroom and leaving behind me at least one testosterone-field time bomb.

I’ll probably regret that whole ordeal in the morning

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Up Next:

Chapter 9

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you smut #eventual smut #supernatural smut #slow burn #supernatural #spn #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #smut

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msgexymunson · 3 months

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Just imagine Eddie coming out of your bathroom, freshly showered, wrapped up in a robe, swinging around the end of the belt, ready to give you the sexy striptease of your dreams.

Except for when he connects his phone to the speaker, it doesn’t play the song he thought he had queued up—it starts blasting Baby Shark.

At full volume.

“Sonofa—”

It’s so loud it scares him, making him throw his phone. And you’re just dying laughing on the bed, clutching at your stomach as it rolls out of you, tears spilling down your cheeks as he tries to shut if off but somehow only makes it play louder.

Finally, he shuts it off, but his cheeks are scarlet and his eyes downcast as you shuffle to the end of the bed and reach out for him.

“It’s okay,” you hum softly, “If anyone could make that song sexy, it’s you.”

(hope you feel better soon, bub ily)

OK so this is absolutely everything!! I couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for the well wishes, love you babe ❤️

Warnings: modern AU, NSFW, Minors DNI, established relationship, allusions to p in v sex.

Masterlist

The first time it's a mistake. A hilarious one, but still a mistake. The first time leads to silly sex; all giggles and firm kisses and jokes and mock threats.. and soft touches.

And then grasping hands, and needy fingers, and moans.

The second time, it's a prank. You've just come out of the shower, all pink and clean, in your robe and towel, swaying into the bedroom.

"Oh, am I getting a little show?" Eddie's eyebrows raise, as he settles into the pillows, shit eating grin smeared on his face.

"Maybe... shall I set the mood?" You ask suggestively, flashing a bit of leg.

"Woah, a proper show? Go ahead, princess."

His hands reach behind his head, laying back like a king in his marital bed. You playfully smirk and turn on your little speaker, hearing the tell tale blip of the Bluetooth connecting. Slipping your hand in your pocket, you take out your cellphone, and press play.

"Baby shark do do-"

"Oh you goddamn evil-"

You laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more. Eddie's frowning, arms crossed firmly against his chest, neck and cheeks scarlet from the embarrassing memory.

The music is still playing, so you giggle and seductively drop your robe, fingers toying with the top of your towel.

"Come on baby, I thought you were into this."

He huffs, clearly torn between being angry at you and getting an eyeful. All resolve disintegrates when you drop the towel, running gentle hands over the top of your breasts. His eyes bug out when one hand drifts lower, toying with the tuft of hair on your mound.

"Stop it, I can't be mad when you-"

"When I what?" You ask, smirking, and start crawling toward him over the mattress, silky hands running up his shins, up his tensing thighs. Fingers snake under his boxers, teasing at the skin just shy of where he needs you. Tensing muscles, he grabs your hand before you can go further.

"Fine, you're forgiven just- fuck- turn that song off."

The third time, it was an in joke. Oven mitts on, you check on the casserole you've made, humming to yourself. Another 20 minutes you think, give or take.

Large hands grasp at your hips from behind, pulling your top up slightly to massage at your skin.

"You asking for it? That why you're humming that?"

"Huh?" You ask, entirely confused, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

"You were humming 'baby shark', thought you might want some lovin," Eddie breathes into your neck.

Laughing, you turn to face him.

"Was I? And whats that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"Yep," he replies, knuckles dragging over your cheek, "thought that was our song. You want Daddy Shark to take care of you?"

Rolling your eyes, you bat at his chest in a vain attempt to push him away. "Our song? Fuck I hope we don't have to play it at our wedding."

He chuckles, dropping to his knees, busy fingers expertly undoing your jeans.

"Wedding? I'm just hoping you don't play it in the bedroom again."

All rational thought exits the building however, when he begins rubbing you just right.

"No, no, whatever you want, just keep doing that," you beg, hand winding into his soft locks to keep him there.

After that, you're not sure what it was. There was humor in it, sure, a hint of a past silly mistake, but it had warped over time. Now, it seemed like a hint, a wink, a promise of something to come.

It surfaced again at a gathering; the little gang were holed up at Steve's, watching some shitty rom com that had been voted as tonight's watch. Restlessly, you tap your fingers on your thighs, wound up to the point of breaking.

"Eddie," you whisper, chest swelling with need.

"Hmm?" He asks back, oblivious to your desires.

Opening your mouth to say something, you shut it, until the idea pops in your head and out of your mouth. Leaning in, your breath skates his ear.

"Baby shark, do do do do do do-"

"Oh, we need to go." Eddie calls out loudly to the troop, met with groans and head shakes from everyone.

"Seriously? Why?" Steve asks.

"It's an emergency, sorry guys."

He's on his feet, dragging you to the door. When you're halfway to his van, he whisper shouts at you. "That's a kids song. A kids song. It shouldn't make me halfway hard."

Laughing loudly, you snake your hand around his tight waist.

"Sorry baby, I needed my Daddy Shark."

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@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader

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stayconnecteed · 3 months

Text

❪⠀🪐.⠀say i'm what you need⠀𓏔⠀lee know⠀❫

☆ㅤlee know x afab!reader⠀★⠀3.3k words

warnings / note: this is just a silly fic based on my lovely @skzms minho's drabble 'minho in love', which i totally recommend before you read this. i hope you like it, may, and that i made justice to your words!! ♡ i listened to say i'm what you need by låpsley while writing this, ofc. and it's just some thoughts about how minho and you met, but from your point of view.

You knew it was pouring outside the bar, but you didn't care. That night you had gone out with your friends in the area you lived in, escaping the rain on short runs from bar to bar, spending the money you had saved for the occasion, the shifting spring weather announcing that there was not much time left before the end of your last college term. You had met in your dorm room to get ready, glasses of cheap alcohol and makeup products everywhere, your favourite playlist playing in the background as you exchanged skirts and tops and little hair hacks, laughing and telling each other the latest gossip. And you kept laughing, showing off the dress you were wearing for the first time that night, while you danced with your friends downstairs in the bar where you had arranged to hang out with other students from your faculties.

It was those moments, your mind free of worries and exams, simply enjoying the present, with a couple of drinks downed and the music flowing through your body, in which you felt more alive than ever. And it showed. You became a magnet for anyone who approached you, inviting them to meet you with the beautiful smile that curved your lips and narrowed your eyes, your extroverted energy blending with the innocent look in your irises. You had greeted most of the people in the bar, most of them accepting your hand shake with a complicity of who had already shared nights of fun by your side, and the few that hadn't, accepting your touch with confusion written all over their faces.

You exuded confidence, in that silky dress you never usually wore, with its thin strings crossing your bare back in smooth motions, and the empty glass of rum and coke in your hand. Or so Minho had thought when he had really seen you, your hips moving under your best friend's hands like a leaf swaying in a current of air, your hands in the air and shouting the lyrics of the song at full volume. When he had entered the bar where Chan was waiting for him, the first time he had saw you at all, you had approached him, even if you had no idea of who he was, welcoming him as if you were lifelong friends, only to disappear as quickly as you had arrived, leaving with you the breath that had gotten stuck in his throat.

And after that first interaction you'd felt his eyes on you all night, following you around the bar, running over your skin as you'd used the dance to get attention you already had anyway. You had laughed when you had pretended to slide your own gaze around the room and made eye contact with him, his ears tinging with a reddish hue that the darkness of the night didn't allow you to see, but the sheepish smile he outlined as he averted his eyes from your figure giving you to understand everything you needed to. Your best friend had dared you to kiss one of the guys in the bar in exchange for a drink, and you wondered if he would be the one suited for your little games, despite his self-conscious aura.

That's why you knew you had fallen for him. You, never one to turn down a juicy challenge, had detached yourself from your friend, approaching the counter after shooting a quick glance at the guy, more than willing to steal a kiss and get on with your night. But as soon as he joined you, ordering what he had seen you drink so far, his nervous smile creating butterflies inside you, and you greeted him again, it was clear to you that this challenge was not going to do any good. First, because you didn't see yourself capable of doing that to him. But also because you were sure that once you tried him, you wouldn't want to stop. So you stayed next to him, your shoulder brushing against his, exchanging hellos and names, telling him who you were and what you did, listening to him tell you about his work and his family, who your friends were, where you came from, what you wanted to do with your lives. And by the time you left the bar, cheeks flushed as your hands accidentally touched, you felt like you had known each other all your lives.

You had had breakfast together, once the sun had risen, in a nearby coffee shop, reluctant to let the moment end, stretching the conversation until the bubble inevitably burst. And when he had accompanied you to your residence, your breaths drawing trails of steam barely perceptible in the air, he had quickly stammered something about your phone number, and you had not been able to deny him, so you took the device from his trembling hands and wrote it down among his contacts, absolutely sure that it was impossible for that midnight bond to go any further.

But you were surprised to wake up two days later with a couple of messages from an unknown number, simple words that hid a fear of rejection that you could not see, but that Minho had felt as he wrote it. And in that first chat interaction, which had been an aberration to all the ones you had had so far, you formally and politely agreed to meet again. Later you would smile as you reread it, noticing the urgency in your messages, that hidden truth that screamed that you didn't care about the place, that you just wanted to see each other again, but that you weren't going to confess it because it was too soon.

Actually, with Minho nothing had been too soon. Somehow, every step you had taken, however small, had seemed the size it deserved at the time. You had feared that the spell you had fallen under that night was over, but when you arrived at the café where he had asked you to meet him, time seemed to stand still around you. Not in the dreamy way of every romantic movie, time slowing down when you made eye contact, but you were so at ease with each other that the numbers on your phone screen didn't seem to move, engrossed as you were in your conversation, in each other.

Minho had remembered the order you had made at that first hurried breakfast, and when you arrived he waiting with the steaming mug in front of him. He greeted you with a shy smile, one end of his lips curving more than the other, looking down nervously. One of your favourite snacks was also waiting for you, a detail that made you squeal with excitement when you told your friends, noticing how attentive he had been to everything you said. And by the time you realised it was way past breakfast time, the clock ticking just at one o'clock, you smiled when you saw in his eyes that even though it had been hours, just for both of you it had felt like a few minutes.

And the days turned into weeks, and your get-togethers became more frequent, always brightening your days. Waking up in the mornings was wonderful, just because when you unlocked your phone you had a "Good morning" from him, accompanied by a photo of his cats, or a selfie, just before he left for the gym. And you had developed an amazing ability to invent excuses, each one worse than the next, just to spend a few more seconds by his side, even if it meant asking him to accompany you home, or inviting him to dinner at one of the restaurants he had written down to try together.

The best were the memories, and the first times. You couldn't forget the first time you'd noticed how he tried to be the one to walk closer to the road, and how you'd noticed it ever since. A couple of weeks after you met, on your way to nowhere, just walking around, a car had passed too close to you, and he had bent down to tie his shoelaces, even though they were perfectly knotted, only to gently push you to the safe side of the sidewalk. You had watched his frown soften, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened, but the relief was evident on his face. And when you got home you relived it in your mind, and your heart was filled with warmth by his antics.

And the first time he had touched you was still etched in your memory. You had noticed that Minho was not much given to physical contact, and you had respected that, so every little interaction, every brush of his skin against yours, sent shivers down your spine. But that time had been special, and he hadn't been able to refuse. You knew it was chilly outside, but as clueless as you were, when you left home you had only grabbed your favorite leather jacket. As you headed to the new restaurant Minho had discovered and offered you to go to that night - where they supposedly made the best sushi around - you had started to shiver. You didn't feel it was that cold either, but it was seeping through the thin fabric and soaking into your bones. He noticed right away, but it took him a while to muster the courage to stop you in the middle of the street, take off the scarf he was wearing and tug it into place around your neck.

Your reaction, you thought, had been pathetic. Your face falling uncertainly, your eyes anywhere but on his, another shiver running through you and not because of the cold, your fingers atching to take his hands in yours. You had noticed the way his fingers had brushed your collarbone the same way he had, but you had been petrified, not quite sure what to do next. Minho took the initiative, eternal gentleman, taking you by the hand, and you just ignored the rushed way your heart was pounding, the beats echoing in your ears, clumsy steps to follow his determined strides.

The first time he had invited you to his place, a casual evening with his friends, so you could get to know his friends. How it hadn't taken you two seconds to strike up a conversation with them, finding common points and shared hobbies, exchanging phone numbers and laughs, appreciating how easy-going they were. You knew Chan, whom you had seen many times in your favorite pub, and also Seungmin, the first in your class, and the one you talked to for hours. You could feel Minho's eyes on you as he bit his nails, half paying attention to whatever Jisung was telling him, and you tried to smile at him or make eye contact with him, to see if he would come closer, wishing he would come closer, just to feel his presence next to you. But he didn't, and during the walk back to your flat seemed he to be too much in his head to engage any conversation.

The first time he slept over at your apartment, at a point in your relationship where you can't even remember how long you've known each other because the answer always seems to be "since always". You had spent the entire evening watching movies and anime, sitting on the couch, so close that you could feel each other's body heat, yet miles apart. By the time you realized, as it had happened so many times before, instead of a few moments Minho had been there all day, and it was too late for him to return home, so you offered him to spend the night with you even though you wanted to beg him to stay. And he, unable to refuse you anything, accepts. And waits for you looking at his phone while you take a shower, seemingly calm, although once outside you fear you have made him uncomfortable because he locks himself almost instantly in the bathroom, mumbling an excuse between his teeth. You sit on the couch, taking the spot where he had been, your favorite sweater slipping its sneaky black fabric over your shoulder, but by the time he sits down next to you again that distance is more present than ever.

And the memory of his touch, which you spend longing for every time you allow yourself to think about it, a dangerous recurring thought in his presence. It is unusual for him to hug you, only two or three times that you keep in your heart as the greatest of treasures, and at such occasions when he only wrapped his arms around you to keep you from breaking into pieces, because you had asked him to, because he was able to make you forget what it was that had made you suffer so much. And the first time you were the one who witnessed that vulnerable side of Minho, that night when your phone rang before the hand of the clock brushed midnight, when Chan begged you to come, and before he finished talking you were already on your way out the door, your heart in your throat.

The way you hadn't bothered to put on a coat, and you knew Minho would scold you, but you couldn't think, not when he was suffering. So you drove to his home, your badly knotted converse stepping on the gas pedal to the legal maximum, and rushed up the stairs, throwing yourself at him the instant he opened the door for you, his face hiding in the crook of your neck, the strands of his hair brushing against your nose. And you had both closed your eyes, him fearing that by parting you everything would collapse, that it would all be a dream, you tightening your grip as if the magnitude of the force you used would be enough to free Minho from his grief. And when you heard the first sob you didn't move, a warm, soft statue he could trust and lean on, until he was ready to speak.

But when hearing the mewing of one of his cats you noticed him twitch, and you let him go, his absence heavier than the worst of regrets in your mind, waiting for him to tell you what he wanted you to do. You don't leave him, you don't push him away, you just stand by his side, trying to figure out what his condition was due to. When he explains it to you, his teary eyes exuding exhaustion, you decide to take the lead, finishing preparing the dinner he had left half made. You make sure he's fed, that he doesn't go into a trance, while you fetch Soonie's carrier, the sick kitten that had alerted Minho, and carefully lay him down inside, stroking his fur as you hear him cry out. And then you accompany his owner to the vet, staying beside him while they examine the cat, letting him nap on your lap while they operate his pet in the adjacent room, moving in for a few days to his apartment to take care of the little family Minho has formed.

And during those days you come to understand how deep the bond you share is, when you see his toothbrush next to yours and it seems like the most normal thing in the world. When you wake up in the mornings and find him sitting next to you on the couch, staring at his kitten, slowly recovering but certain that he will be fine, and you gently pull him up, whispering silly nothings to him and accompanying him to his bed to rest, always staying out of his room, respecting his personal space. When hours later he wakes up, and even with his eyes clouded by sleep he mumbles a "thank you", his raspy voice talking about your caring nature and the plate of food you've just left in his hands. From the first moment you had fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle, and you had never wanted to develop that sense of familiarity, too busy forgetting your surroundings and losing yourself in each other.

But there is something that has changed in his gaze, and there is something that has changed inside you, and in the loneliest moments of the night you realize that this routine you have developed while living with him is too inherent in you, and that you need him to need you in that way. Not broken, not sick, just that he wants to have you close, that he can't breathe knowing you're not there, that he longs for your presence even when you're just a few feet away from him. Because that's the way you love him, and if it's not reciprocated the pain may be too much for you. You need him, because it's him, because Minho has made his way deep into your soul, and has decided to stay. And because if at any moment he had to leave you, you would lose a part of what makes you who you are.

That's why you think you are dreaming the night you fall asleep on the couch, while watching a movie. And it's a beautiful dream, because amidst the haze of sleep you are able to hear Minho's tentative voice whisper a quiet "I love you", almost as if it had slipped out. You don't know if it's real because it's not the first time you've dreamed it, because the certainty that you're in love with him warms your heart and makes you smile even in your worst moments. But the trembling lilt in his voice as he utters those three words sounds different that time, and it hurts you to suggest the idea that he really told you, but it hurts you more to think that he would never be able to say it, not even in the privacy of his living room.

But the next day you decide you don't care. Because you've always felt that genuine connection with him, and his nervous gesture has never changed since he's known you, but mostly because you need to know it's true. When you wake up, the blanket you had laid out anyway the night before is carefully draped over you, and Minho is gone, but the space next to you that is shaped like his body is still warm, so you make your way with clumsy steps to the kitchen, sitting down in one of the chairs. You watch him prepare breakfast with quick movements, and you stare at him with that love-struck silly face you know you only make when your eyes fall on him. And just as it had happened to him the night before, it slips out.

"I love you" you say, almost a chuckle, as if you can't believe you're really blurting it out. And you see the expression on his features change, and for a moment you think it was a mistake, that you should have swallowed the words. But then he scoops you up with a half angry scowl on his face and places you on his lap, the hopeful gleam in his eye accompanying that question he asks you, wanting to know if you're serious, if you're not joking with him. And like every time you feel his touch against your skin you melt, nodding quickly, your heart pounding. You hear him mumble something about how you shouldn't be throwing those things out like that, to protect your heart, but you couldn't care less because then he whispers "I love you too" and you feel his lips against yours. And you kiss him like you need him to breathe, you kiss him because you know he's all you need in your life.

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#stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #lee know #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #☆ㅤ🪐 writings!!#☆ㅤminho recs!!

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ckret2 · 3 months

Text

Chapter 37 of human Bill is this close to wriggling out of the Mystery Shack, featuring: Bill getting alone with Wendy and chatting about teen stuff.

Meanwhile, downstairs,

Bill meandered through the house, munching on a jelly, hot sauce, jalapeño, and sprinkles sandwich.

Everyone was out, the Mystery Shack was closed for the day... Bill was pretty sure this was the first time he'd ever been completely alone in the house since his capture.

What sort of mischief could he get up to?

He headed upstairs to change out of his wet clothes; nice not to have to do it in the tiny curtained bathroom for the sake of the nudity-fearing easily-scandalized humans. He hated to peel off his hoodie—even though it didn't quite make him feel like himself, it at least did a terrific job of hiding how unlike himself he was—but if it wasn't dried out by the time the older humans got home, they might confiscate it to launder it, and then it would be even longer until he got it back.

The things he had to worry about these days were so pathetic.

To go with his makeshift bed, Bill had recently been generously granted a makeshift dresser: an ancient apple crate into which he could shove his ill-gotten clothing. His entire wardrobe combined barely filled half of it. He mourned for some of the garments he and Stan hadn't managed to smuggle out. Galaxy camo. Puking kangaroo jacket. Rainbow cheetah-tiger print leggings. When he took over this place again, he was making himself a full set of dining chairs with real human legs, and then he was putting those leggings on all the chair legs.

He pulled on a tank top and fresh leggings, spread his wet clothing out to dry, and went looking for trouble.

This was a perfect opportunity to get Soos's electric piano out of the floor room; knowing a piano was right there was driving Bill crazy, but he didn't want the humans to overhear him playing and didn't want to lower himself to asking for headphones.

Or he could have a solo dance party. His body ached to dance. He played music with Mabel from time to time, but they had to keep the volume down to levels nobody else would complain about, and he wasn't about to risk dancing when his jailers could yell at him for it. He was pretty sure the boombox was in the kids' bedroom; but after the damage Dr. Illing left on the door, Bill might be able to get in if he could figure out how to get through it. The dentist had managed to get through with the same curse, after all, hadn't he?

Although that gave Bill another thought.

A couple of interesting things had happened on the night the dentist had broken in.

First: Stan had shoved Bill, back first, through the door from the living room into the gift shop. Bill didn't know how Stan did this. All he knew was that the door was closed, Bill was shoved, and somehow the door... permitted him through, and then he was on the other side. He didn't understand it. But it happened.

And second: Stan told the dentist that that door was load bearing, and then had told Bill he'd only said that to keep the dentist from touching it or else he might accidentally figure out a way through, even when he didn't know how it opened.

What did this mean? Bill wasn't quite sure. It was all pretty mysterious. But, it sounded like... it was possible to get through the door... without... opening it?

It didn't make sense to him. But maybe it didn't need to make sense. Maybe it was good that it didn't make sense—because the curse prevented doors from making sense to him, so maybe the only way around them was embracing a solution that seemed like nonsense. Maybe if he recreated the conditions he'd experienced when he was pushed... and if he focused not on the door, not on opening it, but on just... trying to walk into the next room, completely ignoring the existence of the door... perhaps something would happen?

He eyed the door thoughtfully, chewing his jelly-jalapeño sandwich. It was worth trying. He wondered whether tripping on the step was a necessary part of whatever process had gotten him through the door, or if it was optional. He decided he'd try it without the tripping and only put it back in if that didn't work.

He turned his back to the door, shut his eyes, and walked backwards.

There might be some validity to this method. There were some places that could only be accessed by walking backwards. Some fairy domains, for instance. The hidden fairy court outside Portland. He flinched when his back hit the door; he told himself to ignore the door—don't think about the door—and keep walking. He wasn't trying to open the door, he told himself—he wasn't trying to do anything with the door—he was merely trying to walk to the next room. The door didn't matter to him.

And somehow, he kept moving.

The door simply let him through.

He didn't stop walking until he felt a rug under him and knew he must have made it into the gift shop. He opened his eyes and stared in amazement at the door, gently swinging closed again in his wake. What happened there? It was magic. It had to be magic. Were doors even real? Were they just illusions that looked and felt like solid walls until you tried to pass through them? Was that what the curse had forced him forget—did doors not really exist?

He laughed in confusion. "What...?"

"Oh hey, how'd you get in here?"

Bill nearly jumped out of his shoes. He whipped around to face the voice. Wendy was standing under the curtain into the museum.

Right. Yes. An explanation. How did he get in here. "I genuinely and honestly do not know!"

Wendy nodded. "Okay."

"What are you doing here? I thought the shack was closed."

"Hanging out with the baby dragons," Wendy said. "Sometimes when the shack's closed and I need a break from the house, I kinda... use my key to let myself in and hang out with the displays?"

Bill nodded slowly. "All right." He hadn't kept a close eye on the Corduroys once Raina was gone, but he had some ideas why Wendy would want to get away.

"Please don't tell Soos I snuck in?" Wendy asked. "I don't think he'd mind that much, but—still. It's a... It's not a work thing. I don't want my boss to know."

"Don't tell Soos I snuck in?" Bill countered.

Wendy pursed her lips. "All right, that's fair."

So, here they both were. Not exactly what Bill was planning for the day; but, it meant he could have a little uninterrupted conversation with Wendy without his jailers knowing. It was an invaluable opportunity. Bill would have to use all of his cunning to spin this situation to his advantage. He had to choose his next words extremely carefully.

Bill said, "Hey, as long as we're here, wanna chill on the roof or something?"

Wendy considered that. She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

Nailed it. Wendy was such a pushover.

####

Wendy led the way up the ladder. "Guess you need me to open the lids for you, huh?"

Bill laughed "'Lids'?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean. The—" Wendy gestured at the trap doors leading to the roof. "The roof lids."

"Yeah, I'd really appreciate if you'd get the roof lids."

Bill was slower to climb up. He'd never used a ladder in this body before; and as he climbed over worn mossy shingles he could faintly see three places where he would lose his footing and fall, and he had to creep carefully around them to avoid those futures. But then, at last, he was on the roof hangout spot.

"What the heck is that stink?" Wendy asked. "It smells like an outhouse crawled up here to die."

"You remember that giant eye-bat Soos had to chase off—?"

"Oh, yeah. He closed the shack and gave me the day off while you guys were dealing with it. I didn't know the repellant smelled this bad."

The only other time Bill had ever been up here was when he was haunting Dipper's dream, and of course that hadn't been the actual roof. It was a much cheerier spot than it had seemed in a midnight dream. Feel that breeze. Look at that sunlight.

And, for the first time in nearly a month, Bill was outdoors without any kind of cuff to restrict his movement.

Granted, he was also thirty feet off the ground, in a body that was controlled by gravity, with no way to climb down. But still.

"Dude, you look like you're worshipping the sun," Wendy said.

Bill was standing at the edge of the roof, facing the sun, arms outstretched, head tipped back. He supposed he did. "We're distant cousins. Inside I'm a hundred billion trillion suns."

Wendy laughed. "Listen to you. You sound like—some kind of hippie or something." Wendy took a seat on the pool chair. "You're still grounded or whatever, right? That's crazy for a full adult."

Bill laughed wryly. "Yeah. You can't imagine." For lack of another chair, he sat and leaned back against the slope of the roof. "It's condescending as all get out, and I hate it. But, hey." He shrugged. "It could be worse. I mean, they haven't tried to kill me yet."

Wendy laughed. "'Yet'."

"Yet. So I guess I can put up with it until..." Until what? "Until I... figure out somewhere else to go."

"Ugh, I hear that," Wendy said. "I'm dying to get out of this dumb town, it's so claustrophobic—and I've only been stuck here half as long as you. But I'm, like, sixteen, I can't just leave." She sat up, gesturing off into the distance. "But as soon as I finish high school, I'm taking off for Portland."

She settled back on the chair. "What about you? Where are you going when you get out of here."

"All over the planet!" He laughed. "I'm not kidding, I'm going everywhere. I've waited an eternity to see the world in person—rather than just seeing it vicariously through images and what people I meet remember about it."

"Oh yeah, I get that," Wendy said. "My mom had a postcard of Death Valley that's objectively super boring—it's just this desert with a wall of rock in the distance—but as a kid, I was fascinated by it anyway? This little glimpse into another world? It doesn't seem like a real place, so flat without any trees. I'm used to this." She gestured out at the mountains cradling Gravity Falls. "I wanna see places like that, it's just so different."

"Bet you'd fit in around there. I hear there's some tough gals living near Death Valley." And most of them prayed to golden triangular statues.

Bill stared at the sky a moment, willing a small cloud not to block his sunlight. It ignored his commands and its edge brushed over the sun's perimeter. "I'm not a big fan of flat places," he said thoughtfully. "Honestly—sure, I complain, but I really do like this stupid hick town. I like mountains and trees and weirdos."

"We've got a lotta weirdos."

"Highest volume of weirdos per capita in the United States. Gun to my head, if I had to choose any one place in the universe to be stuck... it actually might be right here." At least if he'd had the option of choosing captivity without the pending threat of execution. "But—if I had to choose between this one place and the entire rest of the universe? I'd choose the universe."

"Yeah, wow, that's deep." Wendy nodded. "Can't relate though. I flipping hate this place."

Bill cackled. "Oh, go on, tell me how you really feel!"

"I'm serious!" She got to her feet, staring off toward the idea of Portland in the distance. "I'm getting a job and starting college in Portland and leaving! I'm never cleaning up after my dad and brothers again! And they'll just have to deal with it."

"What if your friends stay here?" Bill asked. "Are any of them as eager to escape?"

"Eh. I figure everyone kinda loses touch with their high school friends and just makes new friends in college. Right?"

"Wow! Cold." He was a little impressed.

Wendy was silent for a moment, contemplating the horizon. "Honestly, I kinda feel like I'm... outgrowing them. Or—maybe not yet, but I will by the time I graduate. You know?"

"I get that! It's hard to be the coolest kid in the crew. No one can live up to your amazing example, but you've gotta put up with them anyway."

"Pfff. Shut up, man."

"But hey—listen, I've been where you are. I've gone through this. When I left school, I never spoke to a single kid I used to know ever again. I didn't want to. I don't regret it."

"I keep half forgetting that you're out of college and everything. No offense, but you look like, fifteen."

"Eh. Everyone thinks I look younger than I am."

Wendy sat again on the end of the pool chair. "What was the place you grew up like?"

Bill considered the question for a moment. "Flat."

Wendy laughed. "No wonder you like mountains. Grass is always greener, huh?"

"Sure." The sun was completely covered now. Bill already felt colder.

####

"Come in, come in," Fiddleford said, holding open the door and waving his guests in. "Welcome to my workshop!"

The Northwest Manor had an enormous formal dining room with warm brown marble tiles, festooned in rich red velvet curtains, overlooked by the taxidermy head of an elephant that Preston used to boast his grandfather had personally hunted (with the help of some hired locals, who'd taken care of tedious unimportant details like "setting up the camp" and "finding the elephant" and "shooting the gun").

Fiddleford had decided the marble floor made this the least flammable room in the house, tore down the curtains, named the elephant Johnny, shoved the long dining table against one wall to serve as a lab table, and hauled over all his makeshift engineering equipment from the junkyard in Tate's pickup. Now, the original purpose of the room was all but invisible beneath what was unmistakably a redneck mad scientist's laboratory. An oil drum in the corner could be brewing anything from moonshine to rocket fuel. Fiddleford's raccoon wife peered down at the visitors from atop a rumbling machine made from three cars' chassis.

"Sit, sit!" Fiddleford swept grease-smeared papers and half-finished doohickeys off four former dining chairs, and dragged the chairs around a three-legged folding table. Stan, Ford, and Soos took seats. Ford leaned over to see whether anything was propping up the legless corner, and only found an abandoned paper wasp nest on the bottom of the table.

Fiddleford crouched barefoot on his seat. "Thank you all for coming."

"So what's all this about?" Stan asked. "All Ford could say is you might be on the verge of a breakthrough on the Bill gun."

"Am I ever!" Fiddleford smacked the table excitedly. All three guests grabbed it to keep it from tipping over. "I've been cogitatin' up a way to remake its fuel!"

"And you've found a way?" Ford asked.

"Why, you bet I have maybe!"

Stan said, "You're still working on the fuel? Is that the only thing we're missing? Last year I stole a bunch of nuclear waste to power the portal, is that not an option?"

"Unfortunately, no," Ford said. "The Quantum Destabilizer can only be fueled by a paradoxical element that's inert when observed but radioactive when unobserved—but it doesn't exist in this universe. It's called NowUSeeitNowUDontium."

Stan grimaced. "I can guess who named it."

"It's clever," Soos said. "Very evocative."

Stan asked, "So, we're here to help make an element? Just so you know, I flunked chemistry, but I didn't do half bad at a community college course on auto mechanics." Stan looked around at the cobbled-together machinery filling the room. "Just in case that's relevant here."

Fiddleford waved off Stan's offer. "Naw, Soos can handle the equipment just fine."

Soos saluted. "You've got it!"

"I need you two for something else." Fiddleford hopped out of his chair, grabbed Stan and Ford's arms, and tugged them from their seats. "This way! Bring your chairs!" Soos quickly followed them, bringing his chair too.

As they crossed the room, Ford asked Stan, "You took a community college course on auto mechanics?"

"Eh. Thought it might help me figure out how your dumb portal works."

Ford smiled crookedly. "Did it?"

"Not one bit!"

Fiddleford led them to a machine that looked like a combination between a trash can, a lawnmower engine, and a rollercoaster-like maze of old lead pipes. He pulled the cord to start the engine, and the whole contraption rumbled ominously. "This is my miniature particle accelerator!"

"What's it do?" Stan asked.

"It accelerates miniature particles!" Fiddleford pointed halfway across the room at several CRT computer screens welded atop a sideways filing cabinet atop a sideways refrigerator. Wires spilled out of the cabinet drawers. "Soos can monitor the whole thing from over yonder."

"Aw, sweet." Soos put his chair in front of the monitors and sat. "Check it out, dudes, I'm like a nineties hacker!" He pulled a keyboard and an old video game joystick out of the fridge and pretended to type lightning fast. "Boom. I'm in."

Fiddleford pointed at the trash can. "And in here I've recreated the environmental conditions of the Dontium's native paradox universe."

"Amazing," Ford said, crouching down to inspect the pipes. "How did you do that?"

"I stuck a cat in a box and stuck the box in the trash can."

"I see."

Stan eyed the trash can, vibrating like mad from the lawnmower engine. "Is, uh, the cat alive?"

"Maybe!"

"Should... should we check?"

"Stanley, please," Ford said. "The cat-in-a-box thought experiment is a very unstable paradox. It's only good for a few days at most before breaking down; we can't risk disrupting the delicate conditions inside the box."

Stan blinked, baffled. "All right. Sure." He shrugged. "I was never much of a cat guy, anyway."

"Sitcher chairs either side of the accelerator, here," Fiddleford said. "Now! Dontium's properties change dependin' on whether it's observed or not. To synthesize it, it needs to be observed, and not. You followin' so far?"

"Yes," Ford said. "No," said Stan.

"Perfect!" Fiddleford clapped his hands on their shoulders. "You're doing stupendous so far. Now, in the paradox universe, I reckon one fella could just doublethink his way into producin' Dontium. But we've got to do it with two brains that are as near to identical as possible. Which is why I need you two! Twin brains are as close as we're gonna get if we don't wanna wait to grow a couple clones."

Stan gave Fiddleford a skeptical frown.

Fiddleford turned to Ford. "I need you lookin' right at the particle accelerator, at all times, to keep it under observation—but not think about it! The longer you can do that, the more the potential energy of the thoughts you're not thinkin'll build up, and since you know more about Dontium than Stanley does, you can generate more potential energy faster."

Stan's skeptical frown deepened.

Fiddleford went on, "And Stan, I need you to not look at the accelerator at all costs, but don't stop thinkin' about it once. You 'n' Ford's thoughts and non-thoughts will work like the plus 'n' minus poles on a magnet; it'll attract the mental energy outta Ford, into the accelerator between you two, and jump start the matter synthesizin' process." Fiddleford pointed at a hose snaking across the floor to the fridge. "And that'll pump the fresh Dontium into an old milk jug in the fridge! Soos'll keep an eye on it so it don't turn radioactive."

Soos fished around in the fridge until he found the jug, with the hose duct taped to the opening. A gas gauge removed from a car was attached to the jug. "Efficient," Soos said. "Sorry—you said so it doesn't turn radio-what?"

"Don't worry, you'll do terrific!"

"Heh, okay!"

If Stan's skeptical frown got any deeper, he'd pull a muscle. He looked to Ford for backup.

Ford was stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I see. It's all scientifically sound."

Stan threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay. Fine. So all I have to do is look away from the particle-whatever while thinking about it while Ford looks at it without thinking about it? That's it?"

"That's it," Fiddleford said. "But! If you start or stop thinkin' about Dontium before we've got a critical mass in the jug, it'll all vanishify, and we'll have to start over!"

"Eh." Stan shrugged. "How hard can it be to keep thinking about your weird science project while I'm sitting right next to it?"

Ford considered the challenge of deliberately trying to not think about something while he was staring straight at it, and frowned. "I'm... going to need a distraction."

####

Dipper had circled half of Main Street, digging through the businesses' dumpsters in search of a sleeping nest of Fremont Nightwigglers, before it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, Bill had lied to him about where they nested. And now he was sweaty, bruised, and stunk to high heaven.

Well, great.

He dragged himself home, braced for Bill to mock him for falling for such an obvious lie and Mabel to tease him for smelling so bad.

But when he reached the shack, there was no sign of them.

Waddles was still contentedly wallowing in the mud around Stan's (really bizarrely painted) car. That wasn't necessarily weird; over the school year Mabel had gotten used to Waddles letting himself in and out of the yard by the back door flap, and now she was convinced that he'd grown big enough that the local wildlife had more to fear from him than he did from them. But even so, if Mabel and Bill had gone inside, it was weird that she'd leave Waddles outside unless she was coming back out. Dipper patted Waddles as he passed—Waddles curiously sniffed at his clothes—and headed into the house.

"Hello? Mabel?" Dipper called. "I'm back."

There was no response.

"Mabel?" After a pause, Dipper tried, less certainly, "Bill?"

And still silence. All the lights were out. The shack was deathly still.

The hairs on the back of Dipper's arms stood up. "Mabel?! Mabel!"

He ran to the office and called Mabel's cell phone, only to hear the credits theme from Believe In Yourself—her latest ringtone—playing down the hall. He ran to the living room. Mabel had left her phone on the table next to the chess board.

Maybe Dipper could believe Mabel had gone out without taking her phone. And he could just barely believe she might take Bill away from the shack, although even for her Dipper found that a stretch. But even at her most naive and absent-minded, he couldn't believe that she'd do both. She wouldn't go out alone with Bill Cipher without a way to call for help.

Which left only one other option. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"MABEL!" He tore through the house, opening every door, checking every room twice, every corner and cranny where Bill might be skulking or Mabel might be tied up. He took the elevator down to Ford's study—nothing—and then down to the basement, in case Bill was trying to repeat his stunt from the first day of summer break.

Nothing.

Where had Bill taken her?

####

"... and Tambry and Robbie have been insufferable all year," Wendy went on, capping off her list of recent grievances with all her friends. "First they break up in the first week of school, then we all hang out over Labor Day weekend and by the end of it they're making heart eyes at each other again, they said it was just the stress of a new school year that made them fight? But then they started fighting again and broke up a month later, then after Thanksgiving we find out they're back together, then right before school lets out they break up again, then suddenly they make up for Christmas and spend the rest of winter break glued to each other, then break up again..." She flung her hands out in exasperation. "And then just—kept doing that! They've been back together since school got out and they seem fine, but I'm just waiting for the next I-don't-know-what-I-saw-in-him text from Tambry..."

"Spring break?"

"What?"

"Did they get back together over spring break?"

"Yeah, we barely even saw them. How'd you know?"

"I have an instinct for these things," Bill said airily. That was one heck of a Summer Love potion overdose. Sometimes a large dose could linger through the next summer vacation or two in weakened form—but to be strong enough to hit every vacation in between, including the single day Monday holidays? Wow. Shooting Star really went to town on those two.

"If they break up again, I'm gonna start spraying them with water whenever they look at each other," Wendy said. "This is their last chance. I am not putting up with their drama anymore."

"I'll give 'em until the end of August," Bill said.

Wendy looked at him suspiciously.

"Let me know how close I get!"

"Maybe we should set up a betting pool," Wendy muttered. "Will you still be in the shack in August?"

Bill huffed. "I hope not." He just hoped he'd be leaving as a triangle rather than as a corpse.

"Man—all this talking about being stuck in town and the guys acting stupid is making me restless." Wendy stood, stretched, and pulled out her phone. "Sorry for dumping all my emotional junk on you. You sorta give off these... worldly, mentor-y vibes?"

Bill's chest puffed up. "Please," he said magnanimously, "feel free to talk to me about anything. I'm always happy to lend an ear." After all, who knew what might end up useful?

"I think I'm gonna see if the gang wants to hang." (And here Bill thought she'd outgrown them. But of course, without them, who else would she hang out with? It wasn't that bad, being the coolest kid in a pack of nobodies. Good for the ego. Better than being alone.) Wendy nodded toward the ground. "You wanna sneak out and come with?"

It was tempting. It was so tempting. But he had no idea when Stan and Ford would be back—or where in town they were right now—and if they found out he'd managed to get out of the shack, he'd probably be locked in the cellar until his execution day. He couldn't be stupid. He could only afford to risk it if he was making an escape... and if he tried to escape now, where would he go? Where could he go? With no ID, no money, no phone, nothing but the clothes on his back and a wretched body?

His best odds of getting back to the Nightmare Realm were in the basement of this very building; Kryptos wouldn't answer his calls; and he didn't have any way to reach any of his human followers from here. He wasn't even sure how to look them up. He could list off the dreams, life histories, and phobias of a dozen of his most devout worshipers; but did he know any of their phone numbers?

"Nah," Bill said. "Can't risk it." He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to live with this much fear. (He told himself he wasn't afraid.) "But, thanks for the offer. Maybe the jailers will lighten up and figure out it's not the end of the world if I go outside for a couple of hours, then we can talk."

Wendy shook her head, giving him a worried look. "Dude, the way you keep talking, I'm pretty sure this whole thing is this close to being illegal. Are you sure you're—you know—okay here?"

Oh, he loved that. She'd known the Mystery Shack household for years, and yet she was almost ready to take his side against them. He'd love to say he wasn't okay, please get him out of here—

But then what? Then she'd confront the Pines, and the Pines would tell her who he was... He held back a sigh. "Sure I'm okay! Hey—if I was in any real trouble, don't you think I'd have said something to Darryl at Rainbow Club by now? Come on."

"I guess," Wendy said; and then pressed, "You're sure, though?"

He'd worried her too much. Oh, this would be great if he were in any position to try to escape. As it was, though... how did he walk this back?

Come up with a story. Something believable.

Bill sighed heavily. "Okay, listen. Here's the thing. Thirty years ago, I... had a miscommunication with Ford—you've heard about part of that mess—and before I could straighten things out with him, everything with the portal happened, and it festered thirty years before we met again. He's gotten paranoid! That's what all this is really about: his paranoia. So yeah, sure, he's taking this waaay too far." He rolled his eyes. "Buuut, if I want to get his trust back, I have to play along with the crazy rules he thinks will keep him safe. And I do want his trust back. I like having him as a friend." And that was true. It was true, wasn't it? Sure, it was now. He decided it was.

Wendy nodded slowly. "Hey," she said. "Quick question. Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome."

Bill laughed. "Oh, come on! I don't like him that much."

And now that Bill had laid the groundwork, if he decided later that he could make use of Wendy's help, all he'd have to do was say Ford had finally tipped over the edge and he needed help escaping. Maybe that would even slow Wendy down from believing the Pines if they tried to tell her who he really was.

They headed back down into the gift shop, Wendy taking the lead and Bill trying his best not to fall down the ladder.

Bill tensed at the ghostly sight of Dipper trailing through the gift shop, in and out of the museum, and through the vending machine; but a second glance confirmed he was seeing an afterimage, not a premonition. Dipper wouldn't be back upstairs for a few minutes. What a narrow miss; he couldn't imagine how much trouble he'd be in if Dipper had noticed the roof lids left open.

"Oh, cool, Nate replied. Got at least one person to hang out with." Wendy stuffed her phone back in her pocket. "Hey—if you ever need a break from the craziness around here, you know how to reach me." She paused. "By walking backwards through the employee door, I guess."

"Ha! I'll keep that in mind." And maybe it would be useful someday.

Wendy waved as she headed out the gift shop exit. Bill returned the wave as he—thinking not about the door, thinking only about the living room and about walking straight into it as though nothing were in his way—backed through the doorway and into the next room.

He was getting good at this. No door would ever hold him again.

He meandered upstairs to check on his drying clothes, and found someone had left the bathroom door open. Had Dipper done that? He'd probably needed a shower after Bill had sent him digging through every dumpster in town. Ha. Well, good; Bill needed a quick shower too, lest the lingering stench of eye-bat repellant give away that he'd been outside while the jailers were gone.

He crept around the ajar door, peeled off his clothes, and climbed in the shower.

####

Dipper's foot bounced anxiously the whole elevator ride back up to the gift shop.

Not here. Bill and Mabel were clearly gone. Bill must have overpowered her while they were outside (and Dipper wasn't there to protect Mabel), and then—what—carried her off somewhere? Where else might Bill go?

Dipper ran outside—without noticing the breeze stirring the curtain that hid the roof ladder.

He circled the shack searching for any sign of where they might have gone; and then he grabbed his bike and pedaled frantically into the woods.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment! Next chapter is The Stupidest Chapter You've Ever Read. This is a boast.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #wendy corduroy #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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wonijinjin · 5 months

Text

seventeen’s vocal unit when their s/o falls asleep on them

author’s note: this was requested under the hiphop unit version of this fic by multiple people

synopsis: what the title says

word count: 1.0k | genre: pure fluff | pairings: vocal unit x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of food, wine and nightmares

you were having a picnic with jeonghan in the nature, blanket draped onto the bright green grass, the leftovers of food and empty glasses of juice from your basket sitting on the side, music quietly playing in the background as the two of you laid across the soft material, your head on his arm. a yawn escaped your lips when the pleasant breeze started to hit just perfectly to make you sleepy in the afternoon, being full after the delicious meal. “are you sleepy, angel?” jeonghan asked softly, stopping from humming along the melody. you let out a content hum, snuggling closer to his side. “alright, why don’t we take a nap? i think we deserve it.” he offered, not even needing an answer after he turned towards your form, seeing your closed eyes, smiling softly while already in dreamland. “that was fast.” he chuckled, adjusting his arm so you would be more comfortable. “see you in my dreams, angel.”

joshua was driving the two of you back to your apartment after a date night; you had a wonderful time eating dinner at a fancy restaurant, drinking wine and talking a lot about various topics in life, including how you wanted to buy a dog. “back to the pets, a golden retriver would be such a good choice, now that we were talking about it i got kind of excited.” he made conversation again while looking at the road carefully and slowing down a bit, the rain outside intensifying. you hummed sleepily, the exquisite food and the drinks making you full and the heater being on in the car providing a comfortable warmth, surrounding your body like a blanket. “wow the rain really isn’t stopping, huh? it will be so good to be at home, i know you like this weather, right darling?” he looked at you at the red light only to be met with your sleeping form, slumped to the side, almost sleeping on his shoulder, your hold on his leg loosening. “aww, you look adorable, oh my god.” he whispered, leaning across and kissing your forehead. “i love you so much.”

the train was hurrying towards your destination quickly as woozi sat next to you, his hand in yours while you watched the beautiful scenery, half of his earphones in your ear, listening to your favoutire podcast together. the ride stopped at the next location, allowing passangers to exit and step into the train, making so much noise woozi barely heard the voices coming out of the headphones. “do you mind if i turn the volume up a little? i cannot hear it well.” he asked casually, waiting for your nod of agreement. when you seemed to be unresponsive he thought you couldn’t hear him, so he grabbed the little device lightly and took it out of your ear. “i said, do you mind if i turn up the volume?” he chuckled, trying to search for your eyes to get your attention. what he found made the reason why you didn’t reply to him crystal clear; you dozed off, the podcast and the scenery long fogotten. “this explains everything.” he smiled fondly, leaning in to place a ghostly kiss on your cheek. “looks like i gotta tell you the rest of the episode later.”

it was very late in the evening, you had just woken up with a silent scream, making dk shoot up in bed next to you aswell, him immediately knowing it was one of those nights again. “nightmares, sunshine?” he asked curtly, already knowing his guess was right; sometimes you were so stressed with work you got nightmares in the middle of the night, only his voice being able to calm you down and putting you at ease again. he pulled the covers onto your shoulders, hugging you tightly, tilting the two of you a bit so you flopped on top of him, inviting you to join him for some cuddles, which you did. he held out his arms for you to climb into, going through the all too familiar process one more time. “so, which song would you like to hear tonight?” he quizzed while giggling a bit, granting your wish upon your quiet and barely audible reply, singing the usual comforting melody softly, ready to lull you to sleep. after a few minutes he peeked down at you, seeing exactly what he was expecting; your face mushed into his chest, quiet huffs of air escaping along with your even breathing, no distress visible on your face anymore. he stroked your head, giving it a soft kiss. “sleep well sunshine, i will look after you in the meantime.”

seungkwan was just stepping into the house upon arriving from his morning run, searching after you since you promised you wouldn’t fall back to sleep and have breakfast with him after he took a shower. “babyboo i’m here!” he called out, no response coming from your shared bedroom. he tiptoed down the hallway, in the process noticing a plate of freshly made eggs and orange juice that he assumed had been made not so long before placed on the table, running back and taking a few bites from it. after entering the bedroom he saw a lump of blankets on the bed, your head peaking out, hair messy and eyes heavy, ready to close any second. he climbed into bed, stroking your hair with delicate touches. “thank you for making me breakfast.” he whispered after pulling the covers higher on his body aswell, knowing well he could not get you out of bed anytime soon, going with the flow and promising himself to finish the meal you made. not even a second later he heard your little snores, not having a chance to invite you to join him for the meal. he sighed playfully in disbelief at your antics of going to sleep faster than light. “we will postpone breakfast then. rest well, babyboo.”

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 4 months

Text

obligatory end of the year thank you post

thanks to everybody who followed and interacted ever since i started this sideblog - i'm enjoying writing very much at the moment, bringing my delulus to life, and it makes me happy to see that other people enjoy my silly drabbles as well - i really appreciate you all <3

Guten Rutsch (literally 'good slide (over to the new year)') as you say in german and a happy and healthy new year!

What would it be like to spend New Year's Eve with König?

This was brought to you by these pictures of Peter Steele with that fucking cap on and the fact that metalhead!König (like every König, really) would be so desperate to have you sitting on his face.

(cw: nsfw mdni, smutty smutt, bit of butt stuff)

“What are you doing?”, I ask him, surprise painting my voice. I just walked back into the living room where we’ve been sitting, listening to music, drinking red wine, waiting for the new year to start.

“Nothing.”, he says, the typical devilish grin playing around the corners of his mouth. It sure doesn’t look like nothing.

He’s lounging on his couch. The black shirt that had been buttoned up all evening isn’t buttoned up anymore, showing off his chest that is wrapped in a harness. The sleeves are rolled up, his tattooed forearms on full display. Handcuffs around his wrists, the ones with the soft cuffs that he already used on me once or twice. A leather cap sitting on top of his head. His long dark hair flowing over his shoulders.

I stare at him with a slacked jaw which makes him chuckle. “Like what you’re seeing, huh?”, he asks teasingly. I nod, finally picking up my chin from the floor, coming closer. He’s looking like a kinkily wrapped up present, waiting patiently for me to finally do something with him. To him.

“Lie down.”, I tell him briefly, and he does as I order, lying down on the soft cushions, his legs hanging over the one side of the couch because even his own furniture isn’t big enough for him.

I get rid of my clothes in an instant, climbing over him. Hovering my pussy in front of his face, while I place my thighs beside his head.

I smile down at him, teasing him, by pulling back up when he goes to nudge his nose against the wet folds. He groans, jerking up a bit, which lets the leather cap topple from his head. I take it and put it own my own head, grinning at him teasingly. His bound wrists keep him from taking what he wants.

“Please just fucking sit on my face.”, he groans, sounding desperate.

“So impatient.”, I reprimand him, getting up again, giving him a full view of everything without a chance to put his mouth on me.

“You’re killing me.”, he whines which puts a sly smile on my lips. But I finally do as he wants placing my pussy on his face. Still hovering a bit to let him breathe.

“Sit down.”, he growls against the wetness, lapping at it, dipping his tongue into me.

“I don’t wanna suffocate you.”, I protest, and the look he gives me lying there under me speaks volumes.

“I said, fucking sit, don’t worry about me.”, he repeats his words. And I follow his order, pressing my wet pussy onto his lips, letting my weight come down.

The hum I feel against my core is deep and satisfied as he starts to really lick and suck, nibbling at my clit, pushing his tongue into me repeatedly.

I hold onto the armrest in front of me, moving my hips at my own pace, grinding against his mouth, desperately looking for release.

He shimmies down a bit until he’s not eating my pussy anymore, but my ass. I look down in surprise, his hungry gaze up at me a clear indicator that he’s content where he is. Oh god. My thighs start to shake when his tongue dips inside me, fucking my ass. Oh fuck. My hand wanders to my clit, my fingers feverishly circling it, as I’m chasing the high. I cum on top of him, the gushing wetness hitting his face as he laps up everything I give him.

“I need to be inside you.”, he pleads, finally coming up for air again, and I get up from his face and free his wrists – something he could have easily done himself, but he was waiting for me to do.

As soon as he’s free though, he lifts me, puts me down on the couch, my back against the soft cushions, and pulls out his dick. He groans as he grabs it, looking painfully hard, precum smeared all over his tip. I grin up at him, a bratty comment already on the tip of my tongue.

It falters when he pushes my legs back and lines his dick up, pressing it into me. The sultry smirk on my face contorts to an O, mewls dropping from my lips as I stretch around him, until he bottoms me out, the familiar sting of pain dissipating into pleasure. Taking his length still has me struggling a tiny bit every time, but I relish the feeling that comes after.

"Good girl.", he coos, stealing back the leather cap placing it on his head again, then he places his hands right beside my head on the back of the couch. The praise washes over me, letting me relax around him, then he starts to roll his hips against me, fucking me into the cushions.

I scramble to hold on with the pace he’s going at, my hands clawing at his pecs and stomach, leaving red streaks, until I get his harness into my grip, my fingers clasping onto the soft leather strap in the front. My moans and his grunts, accompanied by the hard slapping of skin against skin, intermingle with the music still playing from the speakers.

We get carried away and miss the countdown to the new year, though the sound and lights from fireworks in the distance outside should have given us a hint.

When we look at the time again, it’s already 00:34, but it doesn’t matter. König only complains for a little bit, that apparently we didn’t hear the most important bell in Austria – the Pummerin – ring in the new year. I tell him he better stop complaining about missing the sound of a bell over being ballsdeep in my pussy.

Which only makes him laugh. He takes my chin between his thumb and pointer and kisses me slow and sweet to make me shut up, also getting his new year’s kiss for good luck. Then he looks for a song on his phone. When I ask what he’s doing, he tells me he wants to dance the Wiener Walzer with me. To An der schönen blauen Donau by Johann Strauß Jr.

“It’s tradition.”, he explains.

“But I don’t know how to do the waltz.”, I say, looking up at him all confused, still trying to puzzle the two together, the huge tattooed man and dancing the waltz.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”, he says, grabbing me and showing me the position you’re supposed to do a waltz in. Putting my left hand on his shoulder which makes me dig the fingertips into the ink covered skin. Putting his right hand on my lower back, letting it drop deeper than it actually supposed to go. I shoot him a look, but he only smiles at me apologetically. Bringing our other hands together. Then he shows me the steps. The “Down, Up, Up”. Leading me in the dance.

So, we dance the Wiener Walzer together, rather poorly, but that doesn’t matter.

He’s still in his harness and jeans, the stupidly hot cap on his head. I put on his shirt, haphazardly buttoning up the front. That’s how we twirl through the living room, both barefoot and a little tipsy.

I stumble over his feet which makes us both trip and we almost tumble onto the floor. He catches me though, the strong arms wrapping around my waist.

I start laughing and I can’t stop anymore, lying in his arms giggling. Grinning from one ear to the other. He joins in until we’re both holding our stomachs with how hard we’re laughing. I look up at him again, the way he’s looking at me is taking my breath away and my heart is just so fucking full.

We dance some more, we drink some more and we fuck some more. Truly, this man is insatiable. Until we finally fall into bed in the early morning hours.

I thought he might have the decency to let us sleep in, but apparently, we need to watch the Neujahrskonzert by the Vienna Philharmonics. That’s tradition as well.

That’s how we sit in front of the TV, all bundled up in a blanket. My head hurts from the little hangover I have because I don’t do well with red wine. And my pussy is sore which I complain to him about playfully, but he only asks me if he needs to kiss it better. I roll my eyes and smack his right pec, which pulls a laugh from his lips.

I snuggle into him, watching the classical concert, and think about how I don’t ever want to leave his arms again.

I couldn't resist putting in some Austrian New Year's traditions... so if you're interested: info on the new year's concert here and here, where to possibly watch it tomorrow here, video of the The Blue Danube Waltz with the Pummerin at the start and the ballet company of the Vienna State Opera dancing here - thanks for reading <3

~ More Stuff in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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