#shameless promotion time again :)

[lacedra]

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ahsoka Tano & Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader Additional Tags: Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader Redemption, Eventually he’s got a way to go, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Vader needs a reality check and a therapist, Eventual father daughter relationship, Which used to be a brother sister relationship, So it’s complicated, Palpatine is the worst, More tags will be added as I figure out what I’m doing lol, Canon-Typical Violence, because Vader will be Vader, Mentioned Padmé Amidala, Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), because they were Ahsoka's family and she's sad now, Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better Summary:

It’s a few months into the Clone Wars and Ahsoka’s apprenticeship to Anakin Skywalker. They've just won the second battle of Geonosis. They’re getting a rare leave to the Jedi Temple. Everything is fine. But when Ahsoka goes to sleep that night she wakes up to a living nightmare, thrust into a terrible future with a strange Sith Lord called Darth Vader who seems to want her alive for reasons unknown.

#star wars fanfiction #ahsoka tano #darth vader #time travel #star wars fic recs #shameless self promotion lol #mywriting #i never realized how easy it was to link ao3 fics to tumblr lol #so i thought i'd link this one too since I never did despite writing it for like over 2 years now lol #hoping to update this again soon #sometime this month #but here it is #my first star wars fanfic that started it all

[tare-anime]

I love to see Loid's protective side towards Yor growing at a steady pace.

Loid has always been so protective towards Yor from the beginning, even before he himself was aware.

As shown at chp. 5

Here, he has just met Yor, but the moment Swan dared to stomp on her feelings, he got agitated and defend her right away. Even though, he still able to stop himself, and rationalize things.

It happened again during chp. 30

Look at how fast Loid's expression changed from "Hey, what are you doing here, Fiona?" Into "I dare you to say another word about Yor (grrrr)", at the exact moment Fiona dare to imply how worthless Yor was.

Still, after this time, once again Loid rationalized all of actions are for mere mission sake, even though we know during later chapter that he dislike the disguise that imply he and Fiona were married couple.

During Wheeler arc, at chp. 86, Loid finally aware about his "weakness". And that weakness is someone named Yor.

(smh. 🙄🙄 This man really is slow in learning about feelings. But he is getting there......)

Nevertheless, this realization really evoke his protective side. And almost immediately after this moment, he started to actively move to protect Yor, even in the slightest sign of possible 'attack'.

At the latest chapter, chp. 94, a.k.a only in 6 chapters later, he even starts to actively use his physical power to prevent even the slightest discomfort to happen towards Yor.

Look at how hard Loid gripped that man's arm for daring to suggest tying Yor up. And that glare??? Geeezzzz.....

Now, I have a desperate need to see Loid going full attack towards someone who dares to hurt Yor either pysiologically or (is it possible?) physically in somekind of situation like maybe something like (shameless self promotion here) my fic.

Please Endoooooo, I'm begging you..... 🙏🙏

Give us more protective and jealous Loid.

I need to see it 😫😫😫😫😫

#spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #twiyor #sxf character development #sxf character analysis #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf speculation #sxf theory #i live to see protective Loid #pleaseeeee

[wlntrsldler]

If the boys played “never have I ever” in an interview, what would be revealed to the public?

I SPRINTED TO MY COMPUTER

here's the transcript of poisoned mercury's buzzfeed interview where they played never have i ever as part of their press tour to promote their new album:

interviewer: thank you guys for coming!

luke *smiling while he fixes his mic*: thanks for having us :) we were just talking about how we used to do buzzfeed quizzes when we were younger.

travis: there were many days where we'd be in luke's house back in connecticut and completely forget that we were supposed to be rehearsing because we got caught up trying to figure out which inside out emotion we were.

interviewer: well, i'm glad to hear it because today we're gonna play a game of 'never have i ever.'

chris: unrelated but i fucking love that show. team paxton for life.

luke: dude no. ben is clearly the right choice.

connor: ok mr. enemies to lovers, of course you'd say that.

luke: shut up???!

travis: i think if we took the inside out quiz again right now, i'd get disgust because that's how i feel being in a band with two idiots who are so in love with their girlfriends.

connor: swear to god if i hear another "no you hang up first," from either one of you *looks at chris and luke* i'm blowing my brains out.

interviewer looks around the room, trying to ask the producers what she should do. the video editors are already stressing because they know they have to bleep out a lot of the words the boys are using.

interviewer: .... so let's start with the first question. never have i ever gone skinny dipping.

chris: fuck, how did you get all of us on the first question?

connor: yeah we've gone skinny dipping a few times, but the most recent was last summer. mama c-- shoutout mama c, we love you!

luke: yeah, we love you mama!

connor: she put all of us on timeout and we spent the entire summer at a music camp and on our last night, we all went skinny dipping at the lake with our roommates.

luke: oh shit, i forgot about that. those were good times. *looks at chris* i miss camp bro.

chris: me too.

travis *stares deadpan into the camera*: do you see what we have to deal with?

interviewer: never have i ever had a crush on a friend's sibling.

travis: guilty.

chris *turns his head so fast*: given that you're related to connor and luke is an only child, you better be talking about a non-band friend.

travis *shrugging*: your older sister is hot, rodriguez.

chris: stay away from my sister.

luke *looks at the interviewer with wide eyes*: next question or you'll have a video to submit to worldstar.

interviewer: oh! uh, okay-- never have i ever accidentally posted something to my main account instead of my private or close friends one.

connor *cracking up*: castellan, wanna take this one?

luke *blushing*: this feels like a targeted question because we know the infamous video of me with the handsome squidward filter on (the hozier incident) that was supposed to go on my close friends story! i was so embarrassed. to be clear, i was JOKING. i don't actually flirt like that.

travis: i've seen you flirt with y/n, and you in the squidward video had more game than you normally do.

luke *teasing because he knows travis does not want a relationship*: and yet who's single between the two of us?

connor: oh he got you there.

travis: y/n, if you're watching this, you deserve better. he's a loser. i have better friends i can set you up with.

luke: five star, if you're watching this, you're stuck with me. there's no going back.

interviewer: never have i ever had a song written about me.

chris: this is a great pivot to promote our sophomore album's lead single, "kiss her you fool!" we wrote this song about our front man, luke, here. our second album "optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you)" is out now.

interviewer: i love that shameless self-promo.

connor: i think we as a band can benefit from having some shame, but thank you.

chris *turns to luke*: this will also come as a shock to you, but there's another song out in the world that's kinda about you.

luke: huh? which one?

travis: quinnie, remember her? she was in cabin 7. she wrote the bulk of it, but y/n actually gave her the idea. chris and connor helped her with instrumentals and the song is sick.

connor: it was amazing. quinnie is so talented. if you guys haven't heard her music, i highly, highly recommend it. the song we're talking about is called touch tank. you guys should check it out.

chris: agreed. she's also just a fucking cool person. she's one of our closest friends in the industry.

travis *making a heart with his hands*: we love you, quinnie!

interviewer: okay, final question since we're running out of time. never have i ever gone on a world tour for my band's second album.

luke *laughs*: i see what you did there. that was good.

connor: we are soooooo excited to announce that we're going back on tour! this summer, we'll be seeing all your beautiful faces again. tickets go on sale this friday! we hope to see you there!

luke: check out our band's twitter for more information on how to get tickets and to see if we'll be coming to a city near you.

chris: we miss seeing you guys!

travis: see you guys so soon! we love you!

interviewer: that's all the time we have for today. thank you guys so much. it was a pleasure!

#frances writes #poisoned mercury chats #lol this was fun #luke castellan x reader

[tiyoin]

Twisted anxiety reader in a singing contest show (MHAHAMHAHAH) It would be a reason why she was singing in the woods.

✨ imagine✨

MC is feeling useless and unhelpful and just wants to pull their weight in supporting the dorm and stuff. Just overall trying to be more useful to Yuu.

So she overhears smth about a anonymous singing contest and the winner will get $5000 which for mc, Yuu and Grimm that's a lot of money. And 2nd and 3rd also has cash prizes. I think she goes for 2nd place ,so she has the money of 1st without the popularity of 1st. So she puts her fears to the side (🤨no she doesn't) to help her friend and cat.

I see this contest being an online voting type thing. Also celebs 😉 do go on the show to help promote it, to judge them and what ever else they do.

In the show they give the contestants a "wish"/ charm that can help them with their performance (enter ✨shimmers✨ & instruments magic that was talked about). It what makes the show popular

Now we give MC song/writing abilities. She honestly has a diary of kind. She needs it.( Torture her bout it later😈)

Now I'm sure we wondering how does this come into play

THEY THINK THE SONGS ARE ABOUT THEM

They'll all find a way to connect the songs to themselves. If songs says an eye color or hair color the characters with said color goes crazy about it.

Enchanted by Taylor Swift is one that comes to mind as a song that everyone relates to.

Rook/ jade would send clips of MC singing on the show and "THIS IS THE VOICE I HEARD"

I have so many sub-plots for twisted singer reader.

Also I'm really glad to like hearing things like this. I was really nervous to send the asks.

More to come along at one point or another ☺️☺️

i immediately thought of “ivory skin and eyes of emerald green” from jolene and rook just going:

shout out to @/a-twistedheartslonging because i WILL NOT stop using this cute little rook meme they made fldkaldkakwkdkxkakdkfhx

OH MY GOD READER IS SO NERVY AND SCARED AND THINKING SOOO MUCH ABOUT THIS SINGING COMPETITION AHHHHH

they’re physically reacting to thinking about it. they’re nervous tics come out (that happens to me, whenever i’m suppppper nervous i start chanting and get anxiety induced tics) and yuu and grim are getting worried because nothing has happened, so why are you so anxious?

OH MY GOD HAHSHSHAH IMAGINE THE WHOLE CONTEST IS FILLED WITH INTROVERTS HAHDHAHAHAH they all get to suffer at our expense

MUWHAHAHAHSHZHHAH AHHHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAH😈😈😈

*clears throat* anyways 🙂

reader : *sings enchanted*

ALL of the guys she made eye contact with that week: …so you’re proposing?

OH MY GOD MAYBE ROOK AND JADE (for totally separate reasons) SEND IN A CLIP THEY TOOK OF Y/N SINGING AND SENDING IT TO THE SHOW BAHAHSHAHA

idk maybe there’s some super duper advanced magical technology (marvel’s equivalent of ‘quantum’) and y/n gets an invitation and they’re like????

I DIDNT EVEN DO ANYTHING YET

THE CELEBRITY ENDORSEMENT IS SOOO REAL-

ROOK BRINGING VIL TO THE FOREST WHOSE GRUMBLING ABOUT HOW HE HAS HOMEWORK AND HOW THIS’LL THROW HIS SCHEDULE OFF-

“non non! roi du poison you must come with me avec hâte!” (with haste)

and they’re crouched behind a rock for a few minutes and vil is annoyed because rook is doing rook things again and he does not have time for this. especially not today because he has to find someone to endorse for the music show he volunteered to judge.

only problem: EVERYONE SUCKS OR HAS AN UGLY PERSONALITY!! vil is disgusted by the cockiness and the greediness of these… influencers who paid their way to be on the show.

it puts a horrible taste in his mouth, especially with how shameless they are to try and win his favor. he’s not some cheap executive they can bribe to put their foot through the door, especially with their lack luster… abilities.

vil almost called it talent, but you had to be good to have that.

just as he’s about to voice his complaints and leave, rook’s grip on his shoulder stopped him from moving and the finger to his lips stopped him from breathing. vil was visibly shocked because rook never put hands on him, especially like this.

there was a snap of a twig up ahead. rook’s forest green eyes flicked to the horizon a few times, head too, urging him to look.

and he’s more than pleasantly surprised to see… you- well as much of yourself that you would allow the watchful eyes of the trees see. your ceremonial robe covering your short stature.

rook looked at vil expectingly, but vil was still confused, so what if a student was in the woods? unless it was his own this was a problem rook should bring up to the other house wardens. and it wasn’t illegal, nor against the school rules so-

then, you started singing.

he couldn’t recognize the song. but he could recognize the passion. yes you were untrained and flat in a few sections but that didn’t matter. you were good, pitchy but good.

song after song, sometimes repeating a few as you danced and bowed your heart away.

he wasn’t sure how much time passed but it was a considerable amount since the sun that once well over the trees now peeked through the canopy and was gazing longingly at the moon.

cursing, you looked around, bent down to collect the things you brought with you, and scurried away towards another entrance towards the forest.

vil was quick to react, to follow but rook stopped him. looking down at his vice house warden with an incredulous look, rook only shook his head softly. there was a reason you were alone in the woods and not in the various music clubs.

this was your little secret.

vil who WAITS for your submission so he can back you but you never submit… hm,

with a snap of his manicured fingers, rook is on it! maybe rook knows who you are, maybe he doesn’t, vil could really care less since the whole show is based off of anonymity.

(vil side eyes the influencers and other contestants who practically spell it out for the audience who they are so they can vote for them)

maybe to… put you on the right track vil has rook go to your little forest spot and place a flyer there, practically ENCOURAGING YOU TO SIGN. UP.

you think someone would get a hint right?

“huh, that’s weird… maybe i should change locations since someone else was here”

that’s it. rook’s sending in your video and you’re getting a flyer stapled to the tree saying you’re accepted. yes yes this is because of your fairy god mother’s NOW SING

vil also giving y/n some song recommendations he thinks that are good, up until he sees you gently pull out a FUCKING LOADED BOOK from your backpack filled with songs.

yes darling those are great but lol at all the nice songs he gave you! they’re in your range too!!

vil slowly finding out who you are because he heard you hum a song in the hallways that only the mysterious ‘forest nymph’ (what a ludicrous myth the students came up with) sang.

and yes he’s shocked that the ramshackle neet (ouch vil 😿) has golden pipes.

THE CHAT ROOM IS NOW INVITE ONLY TO THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE HEARD THE ELUSIVE FOREST NYMPHS SONG!!! (i’ll cook smthn better i promise)

VIL THINKING WHAT TO SEND THEM TO HELP THEM IN A CUT THORAT BATTLE ROUND AND ROOK OFF HANDEDLY COMMENTING ‘if only there were an orchestra here to play along with their beautiful singing’

ERUKIA!!

*cue golden instruments*

but in hindsight sight:

we’re gonna give her so much anxiety she’s not gonna know what to do😈 sorry pookie!! there’s no safe space at night raven college☺️🫶

#so many thought & yet so little space 😔 #just know that i’m right here- patiently waiting in the wings for your next ask so i can info dump some more ☺️ #i don’t want this to get too long but #sorry for the long post babes🙈 #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin’s cuties 。 ඞ 。 #VIL THINKING OF WHAT TO

[choism]

Shameless | c.s

san solo, choi san

Genre: canon compliant, smut

Words: 1.8k

Summary: A month of sexual frustration and a pair of sweatpants can really bring out the animal in someone. In this case, that someone is San.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, pillow humping, implied sexual tension, implied mxm pining, inappropriate use of a plushie, plushophilia, poor mokoko..., san masturbates basically

A/N: This is a request done for my beloved @kitten4sannie, ily bestie. It is also HEAVILY inspired by my beloved @parmesannie's fic on ao3 called Bring Me To Ruin. I say heavily, it's mostly the plushie part but we ball. I hope you enjoy! Cross posted to ao3! Will probably have a second part from Wooyoung's POV and end up becoming a woosan fic, we shall see...

The sound of shoes squeaking, music blaring, and people panting fills the practice room late at night..

San and Wooyoung had decided to do a last minute, late night practice session before their first comeback show for promotions. The choreo isn’t difficult by any means, but they felt like they had to show off more this comeback, hence why they are sweating their asses off at nearly eleven at night. The sound of their title track plays in the background as they move around fluidly, sweat dripping off their bodies and onto their shirts as they work hard to perfect every single move.

They finish up the chorus and Wooyoung moves to the computer to pause the music, “Wanna go again or take a small break, you look frustrated.” He says to San, jutting out his hip and putting all his weight onto that side, taking a swig from his water bottle as if he’s trying to seduce someone. San had been furrowing his eyebrows so hard Wooyoung thought they would fall off, or fly away.

“Yeah a break is fine, sorry.” San mutters and plops over to where his bag is, taking out his water and gulping it down furiously. San wipes the beads of water that dribble down his chin and Wooyoung’s eyes linger a bit too long until he snaps back into reality.

“What’s got your panties in a twist? Is it your part during the bridge? I think you look fine.” Wooyoung says trying to comfort his best friend even though he isn’t sure what’s bugging him. San lets out a huff and wriggles his hips a bit, probably just trying to adjust or get comfortable, Wooyoung assumes.

He takes another chug of his water before answering, “Nothing, I just think I’m tired all of a sudden and it’s getting to me, we can go another round.” Wooyoung quirks an eyebrow suspiciously but just mutters an ‘alright’ before restarting the part they had been working on. Both of them go and stand back in front of the wall mirror and wait for the counts to come so they can get their respective moves down.

San had only been slightly lying to Wooyoung about why he felt so frustrated. Yes, he is tired. They have been practicing non stop for this comeback and this final session is doing him in a bit, but it’s not the main reason. 

The main reason is that San is wearing sweatpants.

Soft, comfortable, loose gray sweatpants.

‘What’s so frustrating about sweatpants?’ You may be wondering. Well it’s not just the sweatpants, he isn’t wearing any underwear either, which means he can feel the delicate and soft material rub against his soft cock, slightly springing it to life with each tight pull of his pants when he moves his legs. San hates underwear, they are uncomfortable and restricting, but he also loves sweatpants, so comfortable and freeing.

And sometimes, when he combines wearing sweatpants, with no underwear, he forgets just how pleasurable it makes him feel. This feeling, plus having not been able to jerk off in so long is really getting to him, clearly. They have been so preoccupied with promotions for this comeback that he hasn’t been able to properly touch himself in about a month, which is keeping him incredibly horny and frustrated. Sure he could have had time to rub one out if he hadn’t told Wooyoung he would practice with him, but he couldn’t say no to Wooyoung. Maybe this was a bad idea.

With each move he can feel the material move and strain against his now semi hard cock, when he was sitting on the floor earlier he tried to get a bit of relief by wriggling around a bit, but it just made his situation worse, and also made Wooyoung shoot him a weird look. He just needs to get off so bad, he needs it and it’s now clouding his brain. Clouding his brain so much that Wooyoung has to restart their part over, and over, and over.

“Alright maybe we should head to bed, you clearly aren’t focusing very well and you need sleep.” Wooyoung saunters back over to the computer once again to stop the music and San takes a second to catch his breath before responding.

“I’m sorry Youngie, I’m sure we’ll do great tomorrow anyway.” Wooyoung agrees and pats his back, shooting him a million dollar smile that shows he cares for the other man and his health more than some silly practice session. San sends back a more pained smile, but a smile nonetheless, and they head back to the new dorms. 

***

San swears he’s never felt more relieved at having his own room before. As soon as they entered the apartment building San stormed off to his room, a disgruntled Jongho murmuring to Wooyoung, “What’s his deal?” And the other man shrugs in return.

The moment San is in his room he locks the door and looks into his full length mirror. His cock is very visibly hard against his sweats and there’s even a small stain of precum where his tip pushes against the soft material. “Fuck…” He whispers and hopes Wooyoung hadn’t noticed such an embarrassing thing. San immediately gets to work, rubbing his cock through his pants, the delicate material rubbing along the head of his dick making his belly swell with arousal. He sits on the ground and fucks up into his palm, trying to gain as much friction against the material as he can but it’s no longer enough, he wants, no, he needs more.

Hastily he clambers onto his bed and rids himself of his shirt, shoes and socks, his torso still sweaty from his practice session and his chest gleaming, nipples hardened. San takes a pillow from the head of his bed and places it underneath him. He finds an angle that works and lines himself onto it, shallowly thrusting onto the pillow to feel more friction. The front of his sweats are practically soaked, precum leaking all over them. He moans and grunts as he chases the feeling, the material of his sweats pulling forward along his cock with every grind onto the pillow, and the pillow adding a needed to pressure onto his longing cock.

It’s still not enough to get him anywhere, all it does is fill his belly with a small fire, but it doesn’t blaze to anything else. He needs more, he’s so desperate, he needs anything. Through his haze he looks around his bed to see if anything else will satisfy his needs until his eyes land on it, and he immediately has second thoughts.

His sweet, innocent mokoko plushie is right in his line of vision. It’s right there, beckoning him to use it. The small opening between where it’s holding a heart and it’s chest is perfect, a perfect spot to fuck into. Wait. No. He can’t fuck his plushies. He couldn’t dare soil his precious, special edition mokoko plushie….Could he? 

He could.

In record time he finally peels off his sweatpants, his angry, throbbing cock springing out and hitting his stomach with a small slap sound. He discards the pillow underneath him onto the floor, it needs to be washed anyway, and with one last regretful look he turns back to his mokoko plushie and grabs it. “I’m so sorry Mokoko, I’ll make it up to you later.” He whispers and switches positions. He flips onto his side and props himself up onto his remaining pillows with his arm, and lines the plushies opening with his leaking cock. He says one final prayer before sliding his cock into the opening and he lets out the most groundbreaking moan he's ever moaned. It feels perfect. Nothing has felt so good before. Well, that’s debatable, but at this moment, after not having jerked off in nearly a month, the feeling could only compare to heaven itself.

He nearly comes right then and there, but he takes a second to compose himself. The soft, velvety material of the plushie brushes along the shaft of his cock so well, and while humble, he knows he’s well endowed and is reminded when the tip of his cock pushes into where mokoko’s mouth is. It’s kind of fucked up, but that’s just how the cards fall he guesses.

After gathering his bearings, he slowly starts to fuck into the plush, his lips falling into an ‘O’ shape at the feeling. He cants his hips up, making sure to appreciate every single detail of the way his cock feels fucking into the tight space, moans slipping from his mouth everytime the head of his cock pushes into the plush. San’s cock twitches with pleasure as he picks up his pace and while closer than ever it’s still not enough. The material is great but now it’s starting to rub. He needs lube.

Briefly, he gets up to reach into his nightstand for his lube and generously squirts some into his hand, warming it up and slicking up his cock soon after. He feels so bad, he’s about to ruin one of his favorite plushies, but his horniness is overtaking his sense of logic. He can just wash it after…right?

Removing the thoughts from his head, he switches positions, now laying the plushie underneath his hips so he can fuck into the plushie from the top. He aligns his cock once again, and slides into the opening once more. He nearly moans unbelievably loud but stops himself when he hears someone walk past his room. Once he thinks they’ve left he continues, fucking into the plushie again and, fuck, does it feel better than ever. He lets out small grunts and groans as he fucks into the opening harshly, feeling his orgasm finally building, and boy is it building fast. San has been practically edging himself this entire time, so it’s no surprise that once he finally figured out what he needed, he comes quickly. Three more thrust and he bites down on his lip to suppress his moans as he cums all over the plush, disgustingly coating its face and god there’s so much cum. It’s literally seeping into the material once he’s finished, and the ropes went so far some even landed on his sheets above where the plushie was, he guesses he really, really needed this. 

After coming down from his high, he quickly realizes what he had just done. He ruined his favorite, one of a kind plushie. Jesus what has he done, how will he clean it, can he clean it? Should he throw it away? As he’s trying to come up with a solution to save his poor, poor mokoko he hears a knock at the door.

“Hey Sannie, can I come in?”

Fuck, It’s Wooyoung.

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

#choi san smut #san smut #k labels #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #woosan smut #wooyoung x san #san x wooyoung

[capslocked]

SEVEN

male reader x sana minatozaki

10k words

Sana Minatozaki can go fuck herself.

That’s your measured opinion. You don’t care where she is. Dead, six feet under, beyond the veil, wherever—so long as someone gives her a proper kick to the rear.

Eyes are up from their desks, turning onto you, horrified maybe. Then again, your fists are clenched and your elbows locked as you maintain a pace that begs to break into a run. If there’s a scowl on your face, you doubt its efficacy all at the rainwater in your shoes squeaking on the end of every step.

A promotion was how it had all been pitched to you: fated, bound, hands tied to this incorrigible bag of hot air. If the ship’s going down, set to fail, you’ll be right there with her, and you can feel the water pooling at your feet, figuratively speaking.

-

"So?" Sana commits to the question once you’ve got yourself halfway through the door to your office, dripping wet. It’s unconvincingly casual. "You wanted to see me?"

A tragedy; in fact, you want nothing less, but it’s in the job description, a necessary evil. The baker bakes. The cobbler cobbles. And the manager manages, supposedly—you’ve mostly just been tearing your hair out.

"Honest to god," you say, and you’ve never meant it more in your life, "I think I’m starting to understand it now. This whole revolving door of staff and management these past couple months."

Sana tilts her head onto this inquisitive angle, and a bundle of copper hair falls across her cheek before getting dragged back behind her ear. "Oh? And what all did you figure out?"

"That you’re a royal pain in the ass," you answer, untangling your arms from the soaked sleeves of your coat. "And a lot more trouble than you’re worth."

"Well." The word is accompanied by a ridiculous sigh and the sound of her tongue clicking against her teeth. "You don’t suppose that’s on you? No one promised you it’d be easy."

There’s a quiet pause, Sana slants her lips into a smirk, and that’s more or less how it always starts between you.

"No one promised anything," you grumble.

Of course, the writing was on the wall, probably in big, bold letters too, you don’t know—you weren’t too interested in reading it—there were more important things on your mind. Fame; wealth; success; bragging rights; you’ll only let yourself call it hubris once you’ve really stepped in it, finally found something you couldn’t talk your way out of, come up with reason to believe there would be no digging yourself out. But until then—

"By the way…" Sana’s voice trails as she leans into the arm of the sofa, cheek resting on her hand, and then she furrows a manicured brow. "Why are you, like, totally soaked?"

You’re lenient or something, so it’s a question of your own you’ll trade with her, undoubtedly a better deal than she deserved. "Okay, sure then—let’s get into it. What’s your guess? Why is it do you think I had to chase down some jagoff in the middle of a damn rainstorm?" You toss Sana’s phone from the soaked pocket of your pants onto the table, and she watches it bounce and flip until it rests screen-side down. "It’s unlocked I guess. So, why don’t you do me a favor and just help me get out in front of it all; what the fuck did you have on there?"

"Oh." Her voice fills with worry, head cocked anxiously. She seems completely taken aback, but like with most things, it’s all just a front, you’ve learned—and here, you couldn’t be more on the nose. She holds back a laugh, adding, "photos, videos—I mean, I don’t know, it could be anything. I’m a little disappointed you didn’t check yourself."

"Sana," you groan. It’d be foolish not to believe her; it really could be anything, but that’s beside the point. You find the edge of your desk with your thighs, lean back, and you’re shaking your head. "The next time some shameless opportunist stumbles upon your phone and that meticulous archive of bad decisions, maybe I ought to just let you deal with it."

She raises her eyebrows at you, mulling it over for a second like she was ever once invested in being useful. "That’s like, what the publicists are for aren’t they?"

Sana’s young, you remind yourself. It’s good practice. But she’s old enough to know better, what all she’s doing, how dangerous she can be. It’s not like her praises are hard to come by around the office: the beautiful Sana Minatozaki, an angel among us, she’s perfect! If you can hear them in passing through the glass windows of your office, so can she; they’re right on the money, mostly, but you’re also not so easily fooled—or rather, you aren’t anymore. See, you get in front of a girl like her, and she’s got these big, bright, beautiful eyes, a face that never fails to be the most charming in the room without boasting about itself, a body like that, legs like those—

"Look." You blink several times.

Caught yourself staring.

"I mean, sure—but I can’t imagine that’s going to be an easy one to spin."

She cocks an eyebrow in something like curiosity. "What’s not going to be?"

"The video Sana—the one where you’ve got your lips around some cock like it’s a cheap homemade porno."

"So then, you did take a look," she says, rising onto the pointed tips of a pair of black heels. It’s a sign, an omen, a premonition—the renewed smirk on her lips that speaks louder than that soft, measured voice of hers might ever dare. "Hard opportunity to pass up, huh?"

"For god’s sake—" Going with your gut, you cross your arms. And your voice searches frantic for a commanding tone. "If it isn’t my job to know how you’ve fucked up."

"And I so very much appreciate all your wonderful effort," she over-enunciates through each syllable of your name. That same exact pleasantry she’d wish to the staff and crew at the end of a photo shoot, a recording, some nonsense event or another—only now, it’s derisive, laced with this sarcastic edge that is anything but subtle.

"It isn’t funny, Sana."

"Do you see me laughing?"

You don’t. Though there’s still a lot to see admittedly, a lot to take in, most of it beyond damning. A long leg of hers ruffles and furls the bottom of her dress until she’s a step closer, two steps now actually. You can take your pick—start at the bottom up or from the top down, and the result is just about the same by the time you’ve gotten to her tiny waist: she’s gorgeous.

For a lot of reasons however, you’re not about to leer.

Her shoulders square to yours and you remind yourself she’s not very tall; even in those ridiculous heels, she comes up just shy of your nose. Between you and absolutely nobody else, you have considered it, let it fill an evening of fantasy or two—how she might bend and fold, how her small, tight body might be best put to use, the faces she’d make cumming on your cock, the sound of her straining voice when you really—

No, you’re absolutely not leering.

"I’m serious," you hear yourself say, and it’s shaky, struggling to come across resolute, hardly anything convincing. "Just keep on fucking around—I promise you; you’re on your own."

"Oh, is that so?" She smiles again, and you note how it deepens a dimple in each cheek. "And when it all comes crashing down—how should I ask that the director refer to you in their letter to the board: idiot or incompetent?"

Eyes glowing, she seems wholly uninterested in the stark departure from how she normally needles you—all that subtext and words unsaid. You simply raise an eyebrow. There’s a pause, and she raises one back.

"Ahem," you try to recover.

Sana leans into you, one hand on either side of your waist, palms flat on your desk. And there’s that thought running a muck in your head again: all those musings about power dynamics, authority, subordination, governance, whatever it is this mess is you’ve gotten yourself into. It’s comical. You’d never once had a problem with any of your previous assignments. Dahyun? Delightful. Tzuyu—a total saint. Nayeon might as well have managed herself. It’s unclear when or how, but the woman in front of you had puzzled out that she was capable of anything—destruction, demolition, devastation. You knew it; she knew it too; Sana could ruin you.

"Hmm?" she adds, smug and indignant.

"I’ve given it some thought," you start, letting a heavy sigh roll through your chest like that’s ever been some herald of a rousing speech. But there is a plan, or at least what you’d learned about in those binders and seminars on this kind of stuff. "Look, to be honest, you’re going to hate me for it—but we’re going to be moving to some sort of curfew; until all this gets sorted out."

"A curfew?" Her eyebrows twist, disappointed.

"Among other things," you say, and now you’re digging a heel into the dirt of this forsaken partnership. "No more clubs."

"No more clubs?"

"No boys, no bars, and for god’s sake Sana—no fucking filming yourself having sex."

"No boys?" she gawks like it’s the most egregious of what you’d asked, mouth dropping agape in this faux outrage.

"Just until we hit a groove; figure out what works; find our rhythm."

"Find our rhythm?"

"You can stop repeating me."

"You can stop repea—" She takes a beat to swallow down the rare slip-up, eyes looking for even a momentary weakness in yours. But you’re a professional; she comes up empty. Her brows relax and she tilts her head. "Reprimanding me."

Your voice, finally solidifying in its fitful composure, opens into a complaint, "it’s honestly a shock to me you know—how you’ve lasted this long. In this industry, like this."

You lean back, chest tightening, acutely aware that her eyes refuse to leave yours.

"They always say that." And she’s grinning, ear to ear, again. This time, you’re gazing—the shape of her lips, the pretty things swelling and curving into that fine little point beneath her nose. A finger lands on your chest and she’s determined to cross a boundary or two.

You swallow again at the dryness in your throat. "Really."

"You know what else they always say?"

"If you think I’m about to guess, you’d be—"

"Curfew," she mocks, voice hitting at an unrealistically low register. It’s rather heartless the way she rolls her eyes, deceiving the roundness in her cheeks, the ever-so-perfect waves in her hair, the intoxicating charm that is her image. "No boys, no bars, no—"

"So, you’re telling me," you interrupt, more than satisfied with the imitation, "that in six months, six different managers, six different calamities, I’m not the first person to suggest some structure? Color me shocked Sana."

"No. You’re not. But this is the part where you tell me: Sana, I’m a professional. And you’ve got your hands out like you don’t want it and you’re backing up into the desk, bumbling and stuttering like you’re not losing control." One more step into you, and it’s evil, wicked, sinful the way you’re noticing it all: the pretty little details in her eyes, her cheeks, her smile. "I always say the same thing; I’m a professional too ya know. And I just so happen to be in the business of making people want me."

The motion is inelegant given what you’re sure she’s capable of, the way her hand cups your crotch. It sounds silly when you say it like that, but that’s just kind of how it happens.

"Sana—"

"Wow. You’re like, so fucking wet down here." She laughs to herself, having now found some comedy in it all. "That’s usually what they say too."

There’s a smug glimmer in her eyes when she finds you, the semi-hardened jut at the rise of your pants, fingers happily mapping out your shape beneath all the damp fabric. It’s more than just a boundary, and this searing heat starts to lick at your jaw. You’d grab her wrists, wrestle her away, but you’re not confident how it might all go if you start touching her; pin one behind her back, bend her against the desk; hell, she’s probably not wearing anything under that—okay, now you’re leering.

You swallow hard at the absolute casualness about her light fingers, undoing the belt and button at the waist of your pants. "So now what?" you ask, as though you were incapable of putting two and two together, as if you hadn’t been privy to these kind of rumors for months. "You’re going to bargain your way out?"

"Bargain?" She scoffs, and even that’s a pretty noise—the sound of it running through your head where it twists into moans, squeals and whimpers. Her eyes light up, and you’re hopeless, coming undone. "Isn’t that charitable. Like you haven’t been dying to stick your cock in me for weeks."

"Sana." Your last chance at professionalism, at propriety; so, abysmally it’s just her name that falls out of your mouth. But that’s how it comes together—or perhaps it falls apart—your cautionary tale, The Story of Manager Number Seven you’ll call it. It’s ruinous, it’s disastrous, worst of all—it’s instinct.

"Don’t waste the effort." Her chin cocks up and you’re left staring down the barrel. "Besides, I’m just saying the quiet part out loud, aren’t I?"

You doubt you’ll be around to meet manager number eight, and you’re certain one will come to be—maybe they’ll even read your memoirs; you wish them luck. Because the truth is, and you hate to say it, she’s got you all figured out.

-

Right from the jump, Sana confirms all your suspicions: she’s incredibly selfish. Pulling, gnawing, grabbing at your lower lip until it starts to swell, she hops up onto your desk. Something critical snaps, a cable cut, and you’re following right along with her. Each and every sinful step surely on a path to damnation.

"Well?" she asks, expectant and landing kisses on your cheek.

A whole assortment of paperweights, papers, pens, things that have been little use to you, crash onto to the floor. "Anything I want?" you ask, repeating yourself, unable to tire of its answer. "What if I’m - well, for lack of a better word, a total freak? Deal still on the table?"

"Hah." Sana smirks again—it’s kind of her thing, you’ve come to realize, but now you feel it on your skin. Her fingers are working down the front of your damp shirt, and she answers with a bluntness that leaves you feeling if anything, a little insulted, "You’re not."

"And what then, I suppose you know everything there is to know about me?" You’ve got your hands on her waist when you realize she’s not wrong. You’re not. But the shape of her body, under your fingertips, from just above where her hips narrow, it is everything you imagined it might be: wholly divine and capable of anything. You’ll ruin it—it just might ruin you too.

"Trust me, there’s a type," she laughs, "you come in here every day…" The sleeves of your shirt fall around your shoulders, and her gaze makes this journey about you, a momentary glance, and her eyebrow lifts as if to say not bad or this will do. "Same suit, same shoes, same coffee, same frustrated look on your face—just trust me."

She’s got it pretty dead on, not that you really care; you’re just not that kind of guy. But the way she says it, with such confidence, that’s a challenge. Oh, it’s probably to your detriment; you’ve always been competitive—you’ll surprise her. "I guess we’ll see."

You bury a hand into her hair before she has the chance to get on with the next snarky thought or another, and her head is tilted back, lips parting for you. Your tongues meet, first in your mouth, then in hers. Humming gently, Sana’s voice fills your throat, and all that hangs in the balance is rushing through your thoughts again—go ahead, mark your calendar; today’s the day you’ve thrown your career away. Because when you push her legs apart, her dress finally all hiked up around her tiny waist, and you’ve got your finger against the lace fabric across her entrance—

"Fuck," she gasps into your mouth, at least you think she does. It’s a good guess considering those nails, manicured and polished into sharp points, sinking into your shoulders. Her hips push themselves into you, pressing more of that fabric into your touch. You follow it down, trace it with your finger, dragging the loose-fitting lace along the way, and her folds nearly wrap around you, begging.

Your lips smack, spit trailing off them when you pull yourself back. You’re both catching your breath and it’s your turn to be smug, "I think this is the part where I say, wow Sana, you’re so fucking wet down here."

"Just stick to the script, and I promise I’ll go easy on you," she says, voice cold and calculated, as if her lip doesn’t wince every time you swirl the pads of your fingers over her mound.

Day by day, brick by brick, Sana’s broken you down to this. And now the smell of her hair in your nose, the taste of her lips filling your mouth, the feeling of that tender skin spreading between your fingers—you’re beyond fucked, she’s necessity.

You’ve sunk to your knees, and apparently the feeling is mutual; her hands pushing down on your shoulders as you go, impatient, greedy even. You start from her calf, down the length of a thigh, considering how it might bruise and mar, the taut pale skin a fresh canvas for your work. It’s a mistake, or you’re moving too slow, some transgression or another—isn’t it always? There’s a stifled groan off her lips, and she’s got her legs wrapping over your shoulders, heels clacking when she digs them into your back, pulling you into her. But you’ve earned it—you’re usually the one making demands, and it’s your turn to ignore them.

"What’s all this, hmm?" Her fingers thread through your hair, pulling you away from the kisses, licks and nibbles you find all over the curve of her thigh, the places you’ve only buried and turned over in your thoughts for weeks. "You think you’re going to, like, make me fall in love with you or something? Get me so hot and bothered, I scream out, please, anything! I need you!" She gets her hand firm on your jaw, eyes smoldering something into yours like they’re stamping out a cigarette. "It’s actually kinda cute."

"Maybe. Then again, I’m not the one gushing through my underwear at the thought of getting fucked." Your fingers are hooking into her panties when you thoroughly catch the look on her face one last time—it’ll be worth remembering. You let yourself laugh through your words, "so I mean, I guess that’s up to you."

"Careful what you wish for." If she’s wagging a finger, you can’t see it, buried between Sana’s thighs. "Or I swear I’ll fuck all that attitude out of you."

"I’m kinda counting on it."

You’re talking about it like it’s casual, like this dereliction of duty has any other outcome than your ass on the curb or her name into scandalous obscurity. You catch it briefly, the eyebrow jumping and the haughty laugh out her nose; she really is pretty, even when she abandons that whole front, the delicate projection of sweet innocence and mild mischief. Who knows—maybe you prefer it now, all the more that the expression on her face is yours to pull apart.

Tightening her thighs on you, holding you firm, Sana cooperates only in so far as to help a pair of underwear roll down a leg and onto her ankle, and her pussy’s there, shimmering and glistening at you, an open invitation for your tongue—you’ll get around to it, but not until you’ve had your fill of everything else that’s been driving you nuts for weeks on end.

She swallows hard and snaps, "Why the hell are you teasing me?"

You’ve said it before, you’ll say it again, "boy Sana, you’re real mouthy today." A finger on her lips, brushing the surface of her aching entrance again, and she pulls a short tight breath past her teeth. "Aren’t you?"

"Then maybe you can stop fucking around and just get to—"

It doesn’t matter what she was going to say. It gets all caught and stuck in her throat on the way up so bad that you know it wasn’t important. The more pressing matter, your tongue against her clit, is about how the muscles in her stomach jerk and spasm about. That touch, it’s like it electrifies her. The lilting groan however—the one she fails to choke back—that’s from your finger you reckon, pushing its way inside her. You add another one for good measure. She can take it. She’ll take more.

"Shit," Sana mumbles, sucking on her lip, and then before a tiny punched-out breath punctuates the thought, she releases it, letting her mouth hang open when you find her swollen nub in yours, sucking and teasing without too much consideration. The shoe’s on the other foot: each brush of your fingers against her, where you’ve found her, and she shakes, hips jolting around you. Given that you’ve been laboring without any useful results to lead, direct, govern this girl for weeks, you’re chuckling out your nose that it’s now, like this, that she finally becomes anything close to compliant.

Whatever clutter’s still left on your desk rattles. Sana’s leaning back into it now, elbows propping up her small torso, and she steadies herself, failing against your tongue, your lips, especially your fingers. Her cheeks flood with this brilliant shade of pink, and she’s inching off the desk trying to force as much of herself into your mouth where you find her so wet you can feel her dripping down her chin. Even though you’ve never been the type, you can’t help yourself—licking around her quivering lips, around where she clearly needs you, you find yourself teasing, "What do you know Sana? I think I’ve lost my place in the script—you always cum this fast or…"

She shoots you a glare despite the blush staining her cheeks, but when her mouth opens to voice a complaint, you’ve got her mewling again—a cruel pace set into your fingers, creating this absolute mess between her thighs. Her palms slap the table, and she’s breathing in fits and starts, something akin to anticipation. She’s close and she knows it. In fact, you know it too, considering she’s so soaked her taste lingers long in your mouth when you stand yourself up, fingers still buried in her cunt.

"Ohhh… that’s it, right there, fucking hell," she whines, and the ends of her words are soaked in these rasping moans. "I can’t—fuck!"

"Sana," you start, and she’s dodging your eyes, ashamed at the twist on her face, the way her brows knit all at that squelching pleasure between her legs. It seems her pride may still have its limits.

"I’m gonna—" Her expression freezes, and that’s when you think you have her, but she keeps going. For a while. There’s only that loud, messy noise on your fingers in the shallow heat of her pussy until she decides she’s going to collapse into it all. Her eyes shut, and you watch as Sana realizes the bound of her voice to be no more than a hushed whisper, each utterance filling with these needy gasping breaths that rack her whole body, "I’m gonna - I’m gonna - I’m gonna - I’m gonna—"

Her hips buck and jump, dragging herself along the shape of your fingers and she swallows down a husked moan. And then another. Until finally, she’s crying out.

"Fu—ah! I’m cumming!" Sana manages, and only now you’re believing her, the words on the verge of tears. "I’m cumming - I’m cumming—"

Mouth agape, some silent curse or another, she locks up. It’s a whole look—you tuck it away somewhere, the score still horrifically in her favor, but at least you’re finally on the board. "There you go," you whisper, knowing your assurances make it all the more embarrassing, "That’s a good girl Sana; just keep cumming for me."

It’s the smoldering heat quivering on your fingers, the first words of praise out of your mouth in god knows how long, those office supplies still falling to the floor as you suspend her in anguished pleasure—it undoes her. You’ve never seen her like this. Your fingers gliding through the mess of her aching cunt, you have to see more.

"Fuck—" she huffs.

You can nearly see the bright red flush on her cheeks peek out through the hands she’d thrown up to cover her face.

"—you," she finishes, and it’s a little more on brand.

When you reach down to pull her hands away, to kiss her, there’s no resistance—she’s putty, malleable, whatever you need her to be. She squirms when you pull your fingers out from inside her, sloppy and messy with her own cum, but you’re more shocked at how easily she lets you put them in her mouth. That’s a development. And you’re not going to be shy to say it. It’s fucking hot.

"Sana…" your voice trails as she hums on your fingers, her tongue gently finding the space between them. Her cheeks still burning, the way she sucks and licks her taste off you has you stuck daydreaming how it will look, how it will feel when it’s your cock between her perfect lips.

A light knock lands on the door to your office. Twice. And when that second knock does arrive, it has your stomach jumping into your chest. It’s unfortunate, but you’ll have to keep imagining.

"One second!" you shout out, realizing now you’ve never once had the blinds drawn or the door locked. It’s not a great look; hopefully you’re overthinking it. You pull your shirt off the floor and prance toward the door.

Sana sits herself up, brings her dress back down around her thighs and plops herself right back down on the sofa where you found her. Steadying her breath and watching you quietly spread apart the blinds with your fingers, she wipes a lash from her eye, asking, "Who is it?"

"Dahyun." You rise on the toes of your shoes to get a better look. The black hair pulled back into a ponytail and those wide lenses sitting across the bridge of her nose more than clue you in. "I think."

"What does she want?"

"Hell if I know."

"Well, let her in."

The last button on your shirt comes together and you’re opening the door—slowly. "Yeah?"

"Hey. Sana here?" Dahyun asks as though there’s nothing out of the ordinary. She sticks her head into the opening further until she’s half in your office, half out. Innocently unaware of the scene she’d just interrupted, her lips snap to this toothy grin and it becomes a pitiful reminder of the countless days you toiled to get where you are—responsible, respected, time specifically not spent fucking Sana with your fingers.

"Oh hey hello," Sana nearly sings, and her voice is no where near rasped like it just was. It’s a little incredible honestly how she springs back, elastic. Still preening her hair back into something close enough to perfection, she asks, "What can I do for ya?"

Dahyun scans you head to toe, taking a full confident step into your office as you open the door further. She lifts a disapproving eyebrow. "Wow. You look awful by the way."

You let out this heavy, labored sigh. "Yeah, well, the rain, and the—"

"He’s had a rough go at today," says Sana, filling in the rest with only what’s prudent.

Dahyun looks at Sana, then back to you and smiles with half her mouth. "Well, maybe you need it too—Nayeon’s got a tab open at the place on the corner opposite the station. The one with the weird windows. Told me to tell you."

"Sounds fun." The words come out of both Sana’s mouth and yours in this strange tandem. It sounds suspicious because it is; you’ve never once been in accord on anything.

"Yeah. Well. See you there or something, I guess." The door closes behind Dahyun and it takes a moment for the sound of your heartbeat to leave your ears.

"You mind handing me those?" Sana points to your desk, and your stomach drops when you see them: her wadded underwear sitting right in the middle of it all. "I kinda need ‘em."

You’re blocking it all out in your head, assessing the damage before you find yourself willfully distracted. It’s a spectacle even in reverse, Sana’s legs stretching out as she rolls the black lace back up her thighs.

"Thanks," she says, standing up and tossing those long copper locks of hair behind her shoulders. It could be a few things that earned you that gratitude, so you’re answering for all of them, "Yeah, no problem."

You’ve got your jacket back on, pulling your office back together into something orderly when you decide you’re going to try and repair more than just the room. "Look. Sana."

Her head tilts and a curtain of hair spills over her shoulder. She’s waiting on your words.

"I don’t care what you do—just do me a favor. Try to behave yourself. For your sake. All of that just now," you say, and your tongue clicks while you stew in discomfort. "Look. That was a mistake—"

"Oh?" Her voice pitches, and you’re left staring. It’s not long before she realizes you haven’t much of anything else to add, amused at the half words and sounds forming on your lips.

"I’ll tell you what we’re going to do." Sana wedges herself between you and the door, hands tucked behind her back, and her chin cocks up again. "You’re going to go home. You’re going to shower, get some decent clothes, and you’ll be at that bar."

Your lips tighten and your eyes narrow, a glance at the small wet stain lingering on your office’s sofa. "For what Sana?"

She laughs, really just a lovely sound—you shouldn’t be dwelling on it. You shouldn’t have already dwelled on it, but you abandoned prudence some time ago. Holding your eyes with hers, she lets her lip go from between her teeth and in a few simple words, she reminds you that you’ve really stepped in it.

"Cause - we’re - not - done." Another smile, and the dusty browns and grays in her eyes are as deep as ever. "I better see you at seven."

-

So, you’re sitting, sipping on something strong because it’s more than what you need when you notice there’s this line dividing the table, staff on one side, the usual suspects on the other. And you’re in the booth as well, disappointed there wasn’t some sort of larger crowd—something you might slip away into.

There are a few changes in seating when someone gets up to get more drinks or use the restroom or something like that. And it’s at the bottom of a rum and coke when Sana’s found the spot next to you, ever so slightly hanging on your shoulder—just absent enough that she might blame the alcohol, lean into it, play it up; present enough that it’s all you can think about.

"Hey," she says, once softly into your ear, and it’s overflowing with more suggestion than might ever fit into a single syllable. It registers; something clicks; you’ll play. Your gaze shifts around the table and back to where the neckline of her dress dips before it finds her.

"Hey." You’ve got it casual. At that, she smiles.

You’ll say something, and it’s got her laughing. Sana’s eyes are bright, cheery, and even though the lights are dimmed, you swear you’ve seen nothing prettier. Her head is on your shoulder and she tucks the corner of her lip between her teeth when you make her laugh again. She listens well. She speaks even better—clever, sharp-tongued, sharp-witted—making it look effortless. It’s magnetic. Hell, you don’t even notice her reeling you in, capturing you, cursing you. Perhaps it’s like this, outside of all that about rules and protocol—where she’s poised, presentable and balancing herself on the razor’s edge of this perfect image everyone’s come to expect from her—who couldn’t fall for her if just a little?

"I bet you’re still thinking about it," she whispers when she’s sure no one else is listening. "How your cock will stretch me. How you’ll use me."

Catching yourself, it is just a little you fall; god knows you’ve fallen further. There’s plenty of reason to take a pause, a breather, resume your worry—but you’re fixed on the lines of her face, serene and perfectly uncomplicated in the dim light, her expression full of simple joy. Though you trust her as far as that smile stretches across her lips, you’re watching closely as they part again.

"Let me tell you what I think…" Her hands land in your lap, asking questions whose answers might only be found where your cock struggles beneath the fabric of your pants. You’re sure someone’s bound to notice how close she is, hanging, clinging, wrapping herself around you. It’s like she wants to be caught—but fate isn’t so kind; a disaster it is that no one does. The stroke of fortune only ignites the hushed breath landing in your ear, "why don’t we, like, go find somewhere quiet?"

She’s duplicitous, destructive, deadly—spins lies for the sheer thrill of it, you’ve decided—a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But you’re leaning into it too, you’re allowing it, you’re letting her—you’ll be damned if you aren’t just one of the herd.

-

It started when Sana dragged you by the wrist across the length of the bar and leaned into your ear. She first asked about someplace more private, then she suggested the ladies’ room, then you scoffed about what a terrible idea it was and then she said I promise I won’t be too loud and you felt your entire body shift.

It’s rare for you to make mistakes, to slip up like this—especially like this—but then there Sana is, her back against the door of one of the stalls, chin up, the swell of her lip caught cruelly between her teeth, and eyes shut tight as you push your fingers deeper inside her. It’s not like you, you repeat for the last time in your head, airing out the loose thought somewhere to dry when you notice the dull burn of something like adrenaline, the throbbing pulse in your tongue, your throat, the tips of your fingers—both those holding Sana tight at her waist, and the ones that keep coaxing these little whimpering hums out of her chest every time you curl them inside her. Your voice is coarse, and your tongue sticks to the rough of your mouth when you mutter her name; a betrayal apparently—those half-lidded eyes catch yours, and her lips slant like they know it just as well as you: you had plenty more mistakes to make.

"It’s kinda fucked up, you know that?" Sana sputters as though you need the reminder. "Like we went weeks, and what, your biggest fear that I’d end up somewhere like this? getting fucked?"

"I mean, if you’d rather I’d leave," you suggest, pushing her hard enough into the stall that the whole assembly shakes and rattles, "maybe you could help me remember all that a little more—"

"Don’t." It comes out more severe than you’d expect from this girl creaming the lining of her underwear at your fingers gliding between her aching lips. You catch the look in her eye and it’s so badly betrayed by the shortness in her breath, the blush searing against her cheeks—you do the math; find it all adds up to need and lust and whatever else could’ve dragged you both into this stall.

"Yeah?" you ask, reveling once in these few opportunities you get to be the one looking smug and smirking at her. "And why not?"

Sana releases her fingers from around your cock, her hand sliding up from inside your pants and snapping at the front of your shirt. "Because you owe me."

Before you can say anything, she pulls you into her, lips hard against yours. It hadn’t been long since she’d kissed you in your office—those few hours now feeling like ages ago. And even though you noticed it, beyond the way she licks your lips, bites them, pulls you into her and sends these tiny quiet moans into your mouth, you couldn’t quite put it into words then.

See, you’ve kissed your fair share of girls who’d done nothing less than a good job, but never before had they given it their whole attention, their whole being. There was always something on their mind, some idle thought or distraction: what time the last train left the platform, what day of their cycle it was, doubting their own technique, too much tongue, not enough tongue, if it’s too forward to grab that hand on their breast by the wrist and shove it between their thighs—Sana is none of that. Even while the fingers you shove up her cunt are drawing out all these gasps and hiccups, and ignoring the fact that between her legs is precisely where she needs you, she’s on you with this intensity that never once seems to let you out of its focus.

But no, to be clear, she’s not perfect—the wide pad of your thumb on her clit more than reminds you both of that. Her lips smack as she pulls herself off you, those cute brows knit like she’s about to sneeze.

"Oh, fuck!" She throws her head back and it sends all this silky hair flying.

With a fistful of her dress, her ass, you pull her against you. Her cheeks are so red and her pussy so unbelievably wet that you’re blinking in awe, in admiration—Sana’s features twisting into this masterpiece, this look of pure delight. Her voice gets strangled into something more hoarse, something debauched, and she’s punching out these tiny nods as you fuck her with your fingers, circling your thumb around her clit.

"That feels so fucking good. I—please sir," says Sana, and she’s leaning in like she knows you. Maybe she really does. "Make me fucking cum on your fingers, please, sir. I need it."

You hear it; something short of understanding it. Tuck it away like it’s a clerical error or some trifling hiccup—fuck if that’s the Sana you know—but the way she’s got it repeating in your ear makes it click. It’s familiar, and fucked up, that musing again, except now it’s all turned on its head, about authority, about subordination: she needs your hand stern like she needs your cock hard—she gets off on it, you figure. It’s ridiculous and it’s so out of line and it’s so like nothing you’ve ever done and you can’t believe it’s in this restroom of all places and it’s so fucking hot and you’re living on borrowed time, leaning into it—

"Go ahead, beg for it Sana"—like, really leaning into it—"I need to hear you say it."

"I can’t - fucking believe - just don’t stop, okay? Please sir, right there - right there - right there…" Sana is whimpering and mewling through it all as you match and mirror that grind she makes against your fingers. Frustrated, fucked, she’s giving up on your pants, which to her credit, there was a bit more complication to a button and a zipper than simply hiking up her dress around her hips, but still, it’s fascinating to watch her come apart. Her arms fall limp and she’s finding a place to rest them over your shoulders, mumbling, murmuring, repeating, "Please sir, I’m so close…"

"Sana." You’ve got your lips against her ear and it all but kills her; she whimpers and whines as she sinks her weight onto you, the heat of her own name on your breath, the way you say it, pushing her so far onto that edge.

"Put it in - please, please, please, I need it," Sana’s bleating only compounds when you pull your fingers from her cunt, looking at you like you’ve committed something heinous—which isn’t entirely off. Her voice squeals and trails again when you drag your palm across her clit, up across her stomach, "I’ll do anything, just give me your cock, and I’ll do anything, anything, please sir, I promise - I promise."

Sana can’t even keep her own voice down, those needy moans splashing over all that tile around you and probably leaking out the door and into the hall. She’s in no position to bargain or plea, but as you pull her together enough in your hands, wrap the swell of her thigh around you and press your body against hers, she’s not the only one making promises she doesn’t intend to keep. "Don’t worry Sana. I’ll take good care of you." Your voice is drier than expected, but it’s more than up to the task. "I’ll put this cock in you - and I’ll be nice and gentle; I’ll let you cum, now just be good for me, and I promise I’ll fuck you right."

The sound of your zipper makes this echo—loud, uncompromising, unholy as if it were somehow the most debauched thing pouring out from where you and Sana had committed to turning the restroom into this whole menagerie of lustful noises. You pull her soaked panties to the side and her voice floods with desperation. "Please—"

Sana whines, shuddering when the tip of your cock parts the swelling lips around her wet, needy entrance. Search for it, find it, and you’re groaning too—there’s no more hesitation the moment you slip your cock inside her.

"I can’t - you’re so fucking - fuck!" Sana swallows down these flailing gasps of air like she’d been held underwater, struggling spectacularly to bite back this broken moan. The lithe frame in your arms is teetering on the single heel still on the ground, relying on you, your chest, and your hips to keep her pinned to the stall. You’re holding her fragile world together; draw your hips back; drive into her again; you’ll tear it all apart.

Your teeth are gritting and your jaw clenched because she is so unbelievably tight, even all creamed and wet for you—but still, your focus is honed on her voice, keen to her movements, tuned to the way she writhes in your arms. Beyond the small tears filling out in her deep brown eyes, the lines of her face wincing and quivering, her eyelashes fluttering as your hips slam up into hers again, you’re acutely aware of the machinery in her head, of something deep inside her thoughts hitching, changing tracks, going with it; because this wasn’t what she’d expected: this was so much more than she’d expected.

"That’s it," you say, jamming it into that moist breath you push out of your chest, "just feel how you’re stretching around me, Sana, you fucking need this. I promise - you’re going to cum on this cock - and I promise - you’ll do it again."

"F-fuck," Sana rasps through it, her new favorite word. Your fingers dig into her ass and she’s biting down hard on its harsh final consonants, hiccuping, stuttering in the spaces your hips force between her mewls and cries. She swallows down at her indecency, scrambling for composure. "It’s so - I need you please - please, I need you to fuck me! - just use me."

And so there you are, raising the stakes. Each thrust into the smoldering heat deep in her pussy finds you harsher, stronger, the pauses between your thrusts approaching nothing; far more than Sana can hope to recover. You gasp, shocked at how she manages to fit you, her tightness working against you just shy of allowing you to ruin her. "Sana," you start, and her own name becomes music to her ears, how it sounds deep and gravelly on your panting breath, "fuck yes, Sana, that’s a good girl - your pussy feels incredible."

It’s your voice, it’s the small affirmations, it’s the way your cock swells and stiffens when she swings her leg open, the angle, the depth, the pressure making her incoherent and cry out like the fucked mess she is—for weeks now she’d been your foil, the thorn pricking sharp into your side, and here you are, driving your cock deep into her aching cunt, nothing less than her salvation.

"I can’t," she whispers, face falling into your shoulder and her teeth biting into your neck, leaving marks like you both don’t have to be at the office tomorrow. "I can’t keep - you feel so good, you’re going to make me cum - you’re gonna make me fucking cum."

She’s slipping, falling apart in your arms, breaking at the seams. The delicate application of mascara around her eyes is ever-so-slightly starting to run, and you feel her leg begin to wobble and buckle under her weight as it sits helplessly on the sharp point of that single heel. You struggle to scoop her up, finding the soft curves of her thighs over your forearms.

"Do it Sana," you sputter from between gritted teeth, and your hips crash again into Sana’s body, held pitifully between you and the stall’s indifferent wooden frame. "Cum all over this cock - cum for me."

Sana’s so close to the edge, so wet, so needy, that even craning her neck and seizing your lips is some exaggerated and laborious effort. But it’s the only way she can channel all that raw pleasure, that emotion searing its way from her cunt and shooting up the length of her spine, so she gets there, even if you have to meet her halfway. Her voice hums and cracks inside yours, and you can count the last thoughts of her waning composure in her tongue, in those tears gently wetting your cheeks, at the heart beating wild in her chest, all in those legs wrapping desperately behind you, pulling you deeper into her, yearning to find how much of that lust dripping between her legs you can fill.

"I’m cumming, I’m so close to cumming," she moans into your mouth, and there’s no question that she is—the quivers her cunt makes around your cock every time you bury yourself inside her heat—the way she clenches onto the emptiness that torments her when you drag your hips away from her again.

A final inhibition, that what if, the final shred of concern that someone could walk into this impromptu love nest and undo her career—entirely obliterate yours—in so little as the flash of a camera—it vanishes, like a candle snuffed out, first in her head, and then in yours. You smash your hips into the backs of her reddening thighs again, thrusting deep between them and you’re left only thinking of Sana, of her husked voice in your ears, of her ass spilling out between your fingers, of the torrid heat of her cunt—how she invites you, pulls you in, how she begs to be ruined.

"Oh my god." You can hear the wet breath that she draws fast into her chest scrape against her upper teeth. "Oh. God."

When Sana cums, she holds nothing back. And she cums hard—muscles tense, her chest holds onto one final breath, and she digs her fingernails into the backs of your shoulders without even a shred of consideration for the poor skin beneath them. Those short staccato breaths that filled your mouth become long, gasping wails that sit just aside your ear as Sana holds tight around your body, hips shaking and bucking between you and the wood behind her.

"Fucking hell, Sana." And your head is cocked, gaze pointing into the ceiling. "You’re so wet and tight - you’re cumming like you’ve never been touched once - I can’t fucking believe it."

"Y-you-you-you," she stutters, and you’re listening to the bolts and screws holding the stall door together start to grumble and complain. They’re not built for this kind of treatment, not meant to be pounded and punished beyond their breakpoints. Sana on the other hand—she falters, threads coming loose and cracking and falling apart—it only makes her more subdued, more fuckable, more perfect.

"I’m—" You toss your hands beneath her, readjusting your grip, and your lips are resting on her ear. "I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to fucking use you."

She’s nodding into your shoulder, and it’s got her babbling and whimpering like she needs it even more than you. "Do it," she whispers, the first coherent thing out her mouth that wasn’t god, fuck or you in quite some time. "Do it, fill me up, please sir, cum inside my pussy—"

Knees locking and muscles burning, your fingers squeeze into her soft ass. They pull her to you, burying your cock deep into Sana’s cunt. "Fuck - Sana."

In that warmth, in the slopped mess of that fucked, used hole, you cum.

Sana coos when she feels that first rope of cum fill and pool inside her. She’s got her mouth gaping at the second and the third, and she keeps pleading like at this point you’ve got any choice in the matter, "Please sir - fuck all that cum into me - I need it - please."

Your eyes are shut tight, and your orgasm has you counting the stars in your eyelids, all of that tinnitus of blood rushing between your ears. Call it impropriety, unprofessional—you’re not arguing with any of that; it’s beyond logic; you’re just like the girl in your arms: ruined, fucked.

There’s all this mess between your hips, stains at the hem of Sana’s dress, and you’re still thrusting, slowed and deliberate now, and you’re reeling as you unload everything inside Sana. Your lips part, though nothing really comes out, just a long groan, and soon you’re laughing, returning back into reality—which at this point, it’s just the restroom, and it smells so badly of sex, beyond the harsh odor of cleaning agents. It’s bad, it’s that obvious.

One final shared groan—your voices trembling in unison on two wildly different sounds—fills the restroom when your cock slips out from between Sana’s wet, swollen lips.

"Jesus." Sana slides from your grip, lands on her feet, and barely finds her balance on her heels, knees bowed and wobbling as she straightens herself out. She wipes a few stray tears from her eyes and pulls her dress back down her thighs to somewhere slightly more modest, always a familiar challenge. "That was something."

You sink backward into the stall’s firm embrace, clearing your voice a few times. "Yeah," you start, and you realize you need more time to pant and huff your way back to anything presentable. "Okay. Five minutes. Walk out of here no sooner than five minutes after me."

"What?" Sana asks, and she crosses her legs, leaning back and sliding down the stall wall a few inches. "Are you that afraid someone’s gonna find out you just had your dick in me?"

"I mean, sure, it’s one fear." It’s all the dominos you have lined up after that, how they might fall. "Believe me, the last thing I need is Nayeon and Dahyun getting suspicious and—"

"They can kick rocks," says Sana, raking her fingers through her hair until it sits on her shoulders more or less how it was before you’d gotten your hands in it, all tossed and ruffled. "Besides they’d just be jealous they’ve never been fucked like that in their short, sorry lives."

You lean forward, smirking. "Oh? Fucked like what?"

"Don’t flatter yourself." She says it like it insults her, but the breathy laugh she holds back gives her away. "You’re the one who’s always saying, it’s unbecoming to gloat."

"Well, it isn’t my job to be becoming now is it?"

"Hey," she says, uninterested in the banter, taking a step through all the back and forth, and she leans into you, close enough to where you can see all those small, dangerous details again.

A few of the hints now inches in front of you become pretty recognizable: those few strands of hair stuck to the sweat on her brow, the smudges of mascara around her eyes, the way her knees buckle just a little when she shifts her weight—if anything, the rosy flush in her cheeks could be explained away with whatever she was sipping on minutes ago. But the mess leaking down her thighs? That was going need to some extra attention, and maybe a few tissues.

"This is the ladies’ room." Her head tilts, and you watch her hair fall on her cheek again. "You should totally, like, get out of here."

"Yeah. That’s what I was saying."

"Seriously." Her eyes light up and her teeth worry the corner of her lip. "I might just start touching you again if you don’t."

-

You figure all that guilt and anxiety was going to be there waiting for you in the morning. So for now, there’s this strange calm you find in the sound of tires hitting wet pavement and the smell of fresh rain on the wind. Though the evening crowd had started to thin, a few people are still out—couples mostly, holding hands, sharing umbrellas to satisfy some romantic hankering or another; you’re pretty sure it had stopped raining a while ago.

"You called two cars?" Sana asks, finger on her chin, "What’s the fun in that?"

"None, probably."

"Well that’s…" her voice trails off and her eyes narrow alongside this mild grin, "How are you supposed to walk me to my front door, you know, stand there with your hands behind your back, wait for a kiss, and then hang around missing all these queues that you should leave—until I finally decide to let you up for coffee even though it’s late and it’s a little too soon to be letting you stay the night and we’ve got work in the morning and—

"I’m sure you’ll manage." You snuff out the thought before it can brew any further in your mind—the power of restraint coming to you now apparently. Timely.

"Well it’s not like you live that far from me," says Sana, running her thumb over her lips and looking at how that fresh application of lipstick bleeds onto it. To her credit, she’d spent some time touching up after you pulled yourself off her tight, well-fucked body and before you watched her appear on the sidewalk outside the bar. Her lips pull back into a smile, and she clicks her tongue against her teeth. "It’s, like, eco-friendly or something."

"Uh-huh."

"It’s good for the Earth. You gotta be pro-Earth. I mean, everyone’s pro-Earth."

A train arrives in the station, metal brakes screeching on the tracks, and you ball up both hands into the pockets of your jacket. "Since when do you know where I live?"

"Well, to be honest," she starts like she’s about to set some record straight and wipes a strand of loose hair out of her face, "I don’t. But Dahyun walked home from your place one time. And I doubt you’d ever make her walk far. Let’s not mince words here—you really spoiled her."

"For starters, I never had to delete homemade porn off her phone." Your eyes are pointed to the sky while you try to remember if that checks out. And it does. "If I was lenient,"—which you were—"I dunno, maybe she earned it."

"Huh." Her eyes glisten, staring straight into yours. "I had no idea you guys were sleeping together—"

"Sana," you say, catching her eyes again. "We weren’t." It’s not a lie or anything, but the words are choking you on the way up like it were. "We aren’t." You clear your throat again. "We haven’t."

"Man—you really need to relax." Sana lets herself enjoy this quiet laugh that you barely hear over the sound of passengers arriving and boarding."Like I dunno, hear me out: maybe we both get in the first car that shows up, and we take it to your place, and you throw me on the bed, maybe over the back of the sofa, I don’t care; wherever you think—"

"I’m going home in one car," you say, turning a cigarette lighter over in your hand. "And you in the other."

"We could have at least made out in the back of the cab."

With this disappointed look on her face, Sana folds her arms and finds a spot against the station’s bricks to lean into, a knee pushed forward and one foot against the wall. Her skirt rises and ruffles just enough for you to get yet another glimpse of the gentle curves of her thighs—not that you’re trying to look.

She lets her cheek fall into her shoulder, eyes pointed at you, and gets on with this judgmental tone. "You smoke?"

"Rarely." You’ve got your hand cupping the end of the flame as it flickers in the breeze, protecting those embers until they finally catch and glow red. You hide the lighter in your pocket, and your posture straightens out an extra inch or two when you add, "only if I have a good reason."

"Oh? Then tell me; what’s the occasion?" she asks, and she smiles at you like she knows you’re pretending not to notice how pretty she is. "Are we celebrating? That’s kinda cute—"

"Stressed. Anxious." You inhale deeply. Let this sharp plume of smoke out. Then you bend your neck side to side a few times. "That kind of thing."

Sana takes a hint. She places her hands behind her back, leaning and looking into the sky, where rain clouds had rolled and tumbled out to let you peer into this vastly black sky—no stars, no moon, just an unending dark blanket of night. Neither of you say much; it’s pillow talk without all the chatter perhaps, and it’s comforting in a sense, a warm silence that you can wrap yourself up in. When you turn your head toward Sana, she surprises you for the hundredth time, the expression on her face so innocent and soft—it’s hard not to let her fool you.

"This one’s all yours," you say, and you nod toward the cab pulling up on the curb, tapping ash from your cigarette onto the ground.

Sana’s got her hand on the door and one knee in the backseat of the taxi when her eyes find yours one last time. "You sure? Last chance."

"I’ll see you tomorrow," you say, watching Sana shake her head and let out this muted laugh. "Oh and Sana, let’s—how about we try and keep our jobs. Okay?"

She smiles. Even if just a little, you’re smiling too. "You got it sir."

#sana smut #twice smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #twice sana smut #sana minatozaki #twice sana #sana minatozaki smut

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can we have more of Edira? I am completely in love with your writing!

A/N: This one is out to you Edira freaks and geeks 🎤! Apologies its not much proof read. Thank you to those always sending positive vibes <3 you don't go unnoticed 😽😽

TW: Suggestive content, implied past/future sexual relations, boobs+ butts, use of sugar mommy/daddy, borderline nsft

Summary: Just a night alone with your lovely (totally not gaslighting or manipulating) corporate fiancée.

“Sugar mommy?” 

“Yeah its a… term of-- endearment. I guess?” 

“People around the office don’t usually use terms of endearment for me.” Edira squinted her eyes, scrutinizing your explanation. 

“Sugar mommy…” She contemplated again.  “isn’t that usually what you call some old creep preying on young girls?”

You slightly cringed hearing the term come out of her mouth again. 

“Well-- that’s usually sugar daddy; sugar mommy on the other hand..  Is usually looked at more positively. Like… a MILF.” 

“A MILF?” Edira scoffs. “Is that what I am? I’m not even a mother.” She sighed, pushing her greying blonde hair back with her fingers, looking back down at the paperwork on her vanity. “Or am I just old…” 

“Aw now don’t say that. You’re.. Like fine wine. Aging better with time.” Hearing the poorly constructed compliment leave your mouth nearly made you want to gag. Especially because you never thought twice about giving Edira such kind words; not when she still played you like her personal emotional dildo. 

“Besides, what does it matter anyway? It’s not like you cared about what they thought about you beforehand. Why now?” 

Edira massaged her temples, back turned to you as her head hung low. She had been getting increasingly more exhausted now that she had to focus on performance evaluations. You would’ve been worried for your job if it weren’t for the fact that you were sleeping with your boss, being strung along with her whims. You were safe for as long as Edira kept her interest in you. 

“You’re right,” She suddenly started, getting up out of her chair. “Its too exhausting to worry about what those lowlives think; I don’t know when I started caring.” 

Her crinkled white button up pulled upward slightly as she lifted her arms to tie back her hair. The last two undone buttons revealed the dark of her mesh, black thong as she stood in front of you. Her eyes closed as she wrapped a hairtie around the thick, straight tresses.

She took off her tight pencil skirt long ago, finding it far more comfortable to do paper work in the barest of minimums. She’d probably go fully nude if it weren’t for your scolding modesty, and the fact that the housekeeper had yet to go home. 

You scurried farther back onto the bed, repositioning your book on your lap as you looked away. But even as your head was buried in your book, you couldn’t help but peak your eyes upward; Not even out of sheer lust, but curiousity. You could never look away when it came to her-- and she knew it. You hated how she knew what her every move did, how it effected her surroundings and most of all-- you. You pressed your legs together, holding the book on your thighs as you attempted to get back to reading. 

It was like your subconscious willed you to look, to look at the way she dipped on each foot as she tried to position the tight black piece of elastic in a comfortable manner through her hair, how her swelled chest pushed against the white button up that you told her was too tight. But she liked it, liked how it made it easier for her to win over investors, how easily it won over you. Even through her padless bra and dress shirt, you could see the faint outlines of two round buds--

Nope, that was too much. You were getting ahead of yourself; how could you be so shameless? Especially with the woman who you cursed for all your problems and woes. However that was a double edged sword-- she was also to thank for your promotion, for the raise in your salary (as if that even mattered with her around), and your upgrade in housing. But what did that really matter, when your pride was missing?

The older woman sighed, breathily with a hint of a moan at the end. 

“I’m too tired to work on the rest of this... Why don’t you join me in the shower? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten in yet…” Edira commented, sliding onto the bed with her knees to get closer to you. 

“You wanted company, remember?” You rebuttled back, reminding her how you didn’t choose voluntarily to be by her side right now. 

“Ah, right.” 

She positioned her hands on your knees, leaning over to see the words on your book. She didn’t ask about it, instead reading upside down as she spoke. “So, all the more reason for you to join me. This looks boring anyway. Is this one of the books that I got you?” She asked, though you knew she wasn’t really looking for an answer. 

You felt slightly offended, though not surprised that she was criticizing your enjoyment. 

“It’s not. And.. I think I’ll just get in after you. Besides, Carla is still in the kitchen-- what happens if she comes looking for one of us?” 

Edira didn’t respond, instead walking out of the bedroom to stand in the doorway. 

“Carla,” She shouted, leaning on the side of the doorframe. “It’s already 10 hon, you can head home.” 

“Edira!” You whisper-screamed, looking her up and down as you saw Carla come down the hall. 

“Okay, Miss Edira.” The rounded woman put the broom back in the closet nearby yours and Edira’s bedroom, waving to you as Edira gave her a warm smile. The woman’s faint Bulgarian accent came out as she said her goodbye’s, the front door shutting behind her after she gathered her purse from the table. 

“What’s the matter with you!” You scolded. “I can’t believe you’d show up like-- that-- in front of Carla; do you really want to scare her off, I thought you liked her.” 

You grabbed your temples, shutting your book as the panic began to recede from your chest. 

“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic,” Edira waved her hand frivolously at you, shutting the door behind her. “ Carla’s seen me in much worse states, as have you--- wearing only half of my office clothes hasn’t been the worst of it.” 

“And I do like her,” Edira followed, pulling you up with one hand as you limply allowed her to tug. “She’s the only maid I can bare. Otherwise, I’d have you running up and around here cleaning up after me in a cute little maid outfit instead.”

“Housekeeper.” You corrected, giving her a frown as she lowered her hands down to your waist. 

Edira rolled her eyes childishly, pushing her pelvis up against the front of your hips, her bareness pressing against the warmth of your comfy sweatpants. You still wore your baby blue office blouse, not having the commitment to change the rest of your clothes since coming home. But its not like that mattered now, since Edira was so insistent on dragging you closer to the shower. 

She walked backwards, holding onto the drawstrings of your pants as she pulled you along. She held a gentle smirk, her undereyes slightly darkened from a lack of sleep. 

“Are you sure about this..?” You slowly slid your feet against the carpet, hesitantly following. “We both need our rest for tomorrow, and the shower isn’t always the safest opt--”

“Shh,” She hushed, grabbing your hips with a firmness as her nails slid gently under your shirt, running shivers up your spine; she knew you loved it when her nails ticklishly played against your back. “Just follow me, sweet thing.” 

She walked faster now, dragging you by the front of your pants into the master bathroom. Your socked feet nearly slid against the grouted tile floor, the rug cutting off abruptly. Edira shut the door behind you, her buttocks slightly sticking out in view as she turned away. 

You spun around, rubbing your face up and down as you tried to steady the anxiety that was clawing out of your heart. You always got anxious when she wanted to get intimate; she could be so demanding, so degrading if you did one wrong move-- but the praise, oh the praise made it so worth it when she pushed back your hair and said how good you were for her. 

Edira pulled you back around, watching you as she turned the lock, strands of hair falling out of her loose ponytail as they fell into her eyes. 

“Well, going to reject me now?” She asked, leaning dangerously close to your face. You had hardly moved away from the door once she pushed you in. 

“Well…” 

“Well, what?” Edira mocked, running a finger down your jaw. 

Her lips were so close to yours that you couldn’t pay attention to her eyes anymore, merely focusing on the breath that entered and left her mouth. 

“Say no, hm? I dare you to.” You heard the faint sound of her buttons coming undone, hands changing to reaching the tops of her buttons as she leaned in close. 

Her hand pushed to the back of your head, gently nursing you to kiss her as she pulled your sweatpants down just a tad. They fell with ease, her breasts softly squishing against your chest as you felt the heat of her body that was once kept warm by her clothes. 

“I know you can’t.”

#gn reader #gender neutral reader #female yandere #kn1ves rants #knives rants #writing #x reader #reader insert #yandere #self insert #yandere x reader #yandere girl #yandere blog #yancore #yandere core #female love interest #wlw yandere #wlw x reader #xreader #drabble #imagine #fem reader #masc reader #male reader #female yandere x reader #dom wlw #wlw fiction #borderline smut #wlw fanfic #wlw romance

[l0verf0rever]

𝙄𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚? | 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯

[ Actress! Au | Carlos Sainz x Reader ]

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <—- 1/2

[this Series Contain Sexual Content]

Cannes Film Festival

One of the most Prestigous Film events and it shows it

You’re Little Black dress Catches the photographers attentions As you Follow your fellow cast member to The entrance of the Theater

The reporters calling your name to catch You’re Attention as you get Interviewed “Hi Y/n we know this is a Big project for you and this is your __ time at Cannes How is it? And What Do you want the Viewers to know about this pronect?” Behind the Reporter a Familiar figure pass by

As the minutes pass and interviews finish You follow you’re cast members to The Theater the light dim Couldn’t help yourself to look for Him The Starting Credits Roll He’s face focused at the Screen but then realized you were looking at him the End credits started to roll the crowd Applauded You and Fellow cast members Standing in the Center Made you feel so small

Cause of hes cold hearted gaze and hes unimpressed expression at you locking eyes st each other As The Cast Interview happens and Wraps up you saw him at the crowd

As everyone Started to leave you went Into an Empty room Knowing he was right behind the dark room The light open seeing hes gaze soften looking at each other He kisses you Hes neck and collar stained with lipstick marks Hearing someones footsteps you put your finger on his lips “quiet” Someone started to call you’re name

“Meet me at the hotel at midnight”. He left again making sure no one saw you two

Finishing Activities to Promote The Project As the clock tics to midnight The Elevator door Dings to Reveal Him waiting at the hall for your smile widened

Finally being able to Shameless be with each other Both of You’re clothes fell to the ground against the wall making out “ I missed you so much” he whispers to you’re ear

Telling each others sweet nothings against the wall he’s hand unclips your bra revealing you’re breast leaving both of you in you’re underwear

The room echos Moans and groans Your nails scratching hes back and pulling hes hair cause of the pain.

hello everyone this is another Story i made I’ve been MIA recently due to Burn out and other reason and this is the first part of a 2 part story but hope you guys enjoy this fic !🫶

#l0verf0rever #social media au #f1 social media au #carlos sainz smut #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 smut #formula 1 au #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 instagram au #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #formula one #carlos sainz jr

[ambrosiagourmet]

Has anyone requested Marcille for the ask meme? If not then pls

Marcille!!!!!!!!!

First impression

Gay? Interesting elf girl with a really good design for a female character oh my god thank you. She gets to wear pants!!! It's a miracle!

Impression now

BELOVED HALF-ELF OF MY HEART... most determined member of the party, maybe second only to Laios. Not that it's a competition.

Girl who carries the weight of her existence in her heart everywhere she goes. Girl who doesn't know how to just exist because that would mean surrendering to the things time will take away from her. Girl with bloody knuckles who clings too tightly to the things she loves because she remembers a time when she didn't realize what they meant to her.

Girl who must shape a life too big to hold all at once. Who stares into that impossible task so unflinchingly that you kind of want to tell her to run away from it for a bit. Be a bit more of a coward, Marcille! But she doesn't have time to be a coward!! She's hurtling towards her goals at terminal velocity. But the same love that keeps her tumbling forward also pulls her back from the brink. Because she's still figuring out the balance.

Favorite moment

Rabbit chapter... my god rabbit chapter.........

Genuinely maybe my favorite chapter in the whole manga. It hits such an incredible peak of humor and raw emotion and impossibly ridiculous situations and grounded believable character writing. And no part of it is separate from the others.

What a fucking chapter. And what a fucking thesis for why Marcille is such a good character. Her being ridiculous and her being incredibly determined and her being powerful and her being scared are ALL part of her. Man. Marcille. She will do anything to pull through for her friends.

And then on top of it the way the Lion takes advantage of this moment to pull her strings. Which is just. So horrifying to watch because you want someone to give her a hug but all the people who would give her a hug are currently DEAD and she's left in a room along and exhausted with a manipulative, abusive, hungry opportunist. God. God. I love Rabbit Part II So Very Much.

Idea for a story

Umm hi sorry I am still busy thinking about Rabbit Part II. Please enjoy some shameless self promotion while I go lie down for a bit.

Unpopular opinion

She's bisexual!!!!! Normally I don't hold so fast to like "well canonically this character was into A Man so she can't be a lesbian blah blah blah" but it does bum me out that people ignore her succubus because I really do think that bi Marcille deserves more love. It doesn't make her any less into women sheesh.

Favorite relationship

Sorry I was thinking about Rabbit Part II again what was the question? Favorite relationship?

Yeah I dunno maybe Marcille and Laios? I kinda like the part where they rely on each other because there is no other way through and share an unnamed intimacy born in blood and bone and the way that they place impossible burdens on each other and owe each other their lives many times over and neither holds it against the other or asks for the repayment of debts that can never be repaid, choosing instead to keep walking into the future by each others sides because what else can you do. What else can you do.

They are pretty cool I guess. I'm normal about them though. Haha.

Favorite headcanon

I imagine that castle staff help Marcille with her hair on a day-to-day basis because leaving it just to personal friends and family would probably be impractical. But also I think Chilchuck, Laios, Falin, and also especially KABRU all learn enough to help her with it. I think that the first three learn some basic nice stuff but I think Kabru would get really into it.

That man could absolutely intensely hyperfixate on something like "nice hairstyles from another culture" for three to six months and come out the other side an expert.

#ask #ask meme #thank you for your patience!!! #and sorry it has taken me so long to get around to finishing these 😅 #I love Marcille so very much

[sgkophie]

Hate To Love You - Chapter 6 - The Lady Doth Protest (Charles Leclerc Series)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (OFC) Warnings: language Word Count: 3200 Tag List: Drop a comment or add your name HERE. Synopsis: Enemies to lovers + sizzling banter + fake dating with Charles Leclerc. Full synopsis & master list HERE.  Author’s Note: Wow, it's been way too long and damn it feels good to be back with you all. I'm feeling good about posting 3-4k words each week, probably on Thursdays or Fridays. THANK YOU for your patience!!! It's been a crazy summer and fall, here's to a nice and settled winter ❤️ A Man's World has officially been PUBLISHED. Interested in a copy? Click HERE! As always your feedback on my content is truly INSPIRING and makes my day, so if you liked the chapter let me know what you think below in the comments! I eat them up like DESSERT! Want more updates or just want to launch at my hilarious Georgia and Lily reels? Follow me on TikTok Or Instagram! @authorgracenewman Now enough of my shameless self-promotion... let's get back to Lily and Charles!

You'll definitely want to chapter up with Chapter 5 HERE.

I woke up the next morning to the ringing of my cell phone. With my eyes still groggy with sleep, I turned over and groaned, reaching over to the bedside table as I fumbled for the device. The phone stopped as soon as I grabbed it, and I sighed in relief, hoping that whoever was on the other end of the phone call had realized that it was still the morning, although I knew I should already be awake.

As soon as the ringing stopped, my mind wandered back to last night, and the horror of what I had done settled on my chest. I’d done what I had promised I would never do again –  I’d ended up back in bed with Charles fucking Leclerc. Charles had once again dragged me back under his spell, and just like last time, he had managed to leave me feeling as if I was trash in the gutter just by one look on his face.

Regret.

Charles had regretted me the last time we had traveled down that road, and I knew he regretted me this time. As much as I wanted to tell myself that I didn’t care about how Charles Leclerc felt about me, I knew deep inside my soul that it wasn’t true, especially not when that feeling was regret.

I looked at my phone and immediately went to open Instagram, but before I could open the app my phone rang again, and Georgia Dubois’s name flashed on the phone’s screen.

What on earth did Georgia want with me on a morning after a night out?

“Georgia… I feel like the pre-season debrief could wait until we’re back at the office, hmm?”

“Lily, I need you to come to my room, now. Floor 15, room 1568.” There was urgency in her voice, urgency and something else., something that sounded like panic.

“… Now as in… now now?”

“See you in five.” Before I could protest, Georgia hung up the phone. I looked at the clock - 10:10 a.m., which meant the hallways would be fairly empty since most guests had either left on early flights or were still hungover in their rooms. I threw on some clothes and made my way up to Georgia’s floor, which was of course much higher up than mine.

No expense spared when it comes to Ferrari and their drivers, I scoffed to myself. The Mercedes F1 team was known for its cost savings when it came to hotels and drivers. Lewis used to always complain that as a 7x World Champion, he was lucky to get a suite when it came to Toto and Mercedes’ purse strings.

I headed straight to the room that Georgia had texted me and knocked on the door. It was as if Georgia had been standing there waiting for me, because she opened it on the second knock, causing me to fall forward, only to catch myself on the coat rack that had been placed right next to the door.

“Jesus, Georgie…” I grunted, shaking off the small moment of shock as I walked into the room. Seated on the couch was her fiance Carlos, who just nodded my way as he kept his eyes on the TV, glued to the Real Madrid game going on in the background.

Georgia motioned for me to take a seat, which I obliged as Carlos immediately lowered the volume of the television, finally turning to face me and Georgia. As soon as Carlos looked at me, I felt dread take over my entire body. Carlos was always so happy-go-lucky – and I likened him to a golden retriever, barely anything got him down, but the solemn nature of his face told me exactly why I was here.

“Is someone going to tell me what is going on?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between the three of us. I could see that Georgia was trying to find her words.

“So… after the pre-season party last night, what did you do?” Georgia finally asked, and I frowned, giving her a pointed look to let her know that I wasn’t thrilled with her nosy question.

“Not really any of your business,” I scoffed at my ex-teammate, but I knew my cheeks had gone slightly red. I wasn’t sure what Georgia had heard, but I wasn’t about to admit that I had slept with her brother last night.

“Well, it seems like it is my business now,” Georgia quipped, clearly unimpressed with my snarky reply. Her tone sounded like a mother who had just caught a child stealing from the cookie jar.

“… just fucking spit it out, Georgia.”

“Lily, I don’t care if you and Charles are fucking. I don’t care that you and Pierre are fucking. Hell, I don’t care if you have slept with the whole fucking grid…” Georgia’s tone was sharp, and I could feel her words start to slice through me.

So she did know that I had slept with her ex-boyfriend Pierre. Guess I wasn’t as discreet as I had hoped.   

Before I could get a word in, Georgia continued, “… but what I do care about, is your reputation. As only one of two women on the grid, you know what is at stake here. I fucking hate that the entire world looks at the female drivers through a magnifying glass, but they do. The world shouldn’t care about who you are with, and quite frankly, it’s none of their business… but that just isn’t the case.

What we do is, and for the foreseeable future will be, looked at through a microscope. Am I making any sense to you?” Georgia sighed and looked back at Carlos, who just grabbed her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before nodding at her in supportive agreement.

As if out of instinct, I felt my lips starting to apologize to Georgia. “Look, Georgia… I’m sorry about…” But before I could finish, Georgia cut me off, putting her hand up to signal that her tirade wasn’t yet complete. 

“I’m not done, Lily,” she said tiredly. I could see that the actual lecture was about to happen, and I felt my stomach sink to the floor. By the look on her face, I knew she was more upset with me for something other than sleeping with her brother – and that thought disturned me more than Georgia admitting she already knew that I had slept with her brother and ex-boyfriend.

“Lily, someone caught you and Charles in the elevator last night. And to make matters worse, as of this morning, the video is all over Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, you name it. I had a call from Toto this morning, who debriefed me on the situation… 

Lily, are you listening to me?”

No, I wasn’t listening one bit. Truth was, I had stopped listening after the word ‘caught.’ Dread started to fill my entire body, and I could feel my hands and legs start to shake from all-consuming panic.

How could I be so fucking stupid? Of course, someone had caught us. Charles was the number 1 driver on the grid, people knew his face everywhere, and this hotel was crawling with tourists.

I just stared back at my racing coach, not able to utter a single word. The silence for the next minute was deafening, and it was clear that even Georgia didn’t want to continue with this conversation, but I could see from the urgency in her eyes that we had no other choice.

“How bad is it?” I eventually managed to force out my question, gazing up at Georgia through my flooded eyes.

“Salvageable,” was all she responded.

“What are they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I knew from the look in her eye and tone of her voice that it did matter.

“Bull shit, Georgie. We both know I’m going to hear it eventually from my mother, so you might as well spit it out.” The uneasy expression on her face and exasperated sigh told me exactly how bad it was, and I immediately pulled out my phone, but Georgia grabbed it from me, placing it back on the table screen facing down.

“Let me guess, it’s a lot worse for me than it is for your brother?” I scoffed, and the lack of response from both Georgia and Carlos confirmed my suspicions.

It was always worse for the woman.

“It’s not great for either of you, honestly.” Again, she paused, and as I watched her mouth something to Carlos, the anger inside of me started to explode into full-blown rage.

Fuck this.

“Georgia, if you don’t tell me what’s happening this instant, I am going to go down the hallway and start yelling until I find someone who does. Clearly, Toto and the team have asked you to tell me what is going on, so spit it out. This torturous silence and limbo you have me in is crucifying my soul!”

“I know, you’re right,” Georgia sighed. “Here’s the lowdown. You and Charles were caught, in the elevator, before rushing into his hotel room. The tourist, or whoever it was, filmed the two of you. Unfortunately, they also caught you coming out of Charles’ room, looking like you were doing a walk of shame.

“By early this morning, the photos were all over the internet, and The Sun posted a ludicrous story a few hours on the matter.”

“Please, no one believes The Sun. I mean, it’s The Sun, the crappiest tabloid ever made. Plus, these photos should blow over in a week - maybe two tops, right?”

“Yes… except this morning, someone decided to fan the flames of the article.” Georgia didn’t have to say the words for me to know exactly who it was.

Fucking Louis, my ex-boyfriend, and the gift that kept on giving. Every fiber of my being told me he was behind this, and if he wasn’t behind it, I knew he damn well would make the most of it.

“Louis was caught this morning at the airport offering up his opinions on the photos in front of tourists, VIPs… anyone that would listen…”

“Lucky me,” I sneered. “And tell me, what did my dear ex-boyfriend have to say about this?”

“He insinuated that you and Charles have been sleeping around for a while.”

“And by ‘insinuated,’ he just fucking flat out said it, didn’t he?” Again, the silence between the three of us told me everything I needed to know.

Oh, Louis. 

He must have been immensely pleased with himself in that moment. He had always believed Charles and I had slept together during my first season in Formula 1, something I never confirmed as I knew it would only serve to make him more jealous. 

I couldn't risk Louis's suspicions of Pierre growing further by making him aware that I had slept with someone else on the grid – that wasn't a reputation I wanted for myself.

”Georgia’s foot was now tapping up and down as she eyed me warily, not ready to utter the words that I could see were killing her on the inside.

“He accused you of sleeping around the grid, said that Charles wasn’t the only one…. Lily, Louis said that’s why you came third in the championship behind Charles last year, because you have been sleeping with him and a few of the guys.”

“I’m sorry… did my ex-boyfriend, who I caught in bed with another woman, dare to accuse me of cheating on him when he's had his dick in how much pussy?” I was now standing, my arms outstretched as I just motioned to me and then back to my phone like a buffoon. I was both speechless and had too much to say at the same time.

“Not in so many words.”

“Good grief, Georgia, just say yes.” My voice was laced with sarcasm as I said the words. I knew lashing out at one of my closest friends was not the answer, but the utter despair and frustration of this conversation was starting to get the best of me. My racing coach was phenomenal with data –bad with people.

“Look, he didn’t directly say it, but it’s clear that social media is inferring it from his words, especially considering everyone assumed you guys were dating… and now you aren’t.”

“Everyone thinks we currently aren’t dating because he was seen with a new blond bimbo!” I exclaimed, still waving my hands frantically in the air as I stood up, as if that was going to make my point hit home. “Of course, everyone was going to think it was my fault. No one ever blames the white man… Let me guess, Charles is coming away unscathed from this one?”

“Now that is where you’re wrong. Apparently, his sponsors and PR team aren’t thrilled about him sleeping with one of the two women on the grid, especially not one that just got out of a relationship with a supposed friend of his.”

“I didn’t think who either of us slept with was any of our sponsor’s business.” Georgia just gave me a pointed look that told me to stop daydreaming – of course, sponsors cared. I was their property until they stopped paying my bills.

“But the good news is, there is a solution to this.” Georgia’s face slightly lit up, and I immediately knew where she was going with this. 

“You’re out of your mind. Like hell am I going to pretend to date Charles Leclerc. I don’t care if he’s your brother. I don’t care if he’s Ferrari’s golden boy. I don’t care that his stupid smug face could save my career. No. No way. Not a chance.” I downed my coffee and began pacing the room, but Georgia’s silence and slight uptick of her mouth told me that nothing I said had gotten through to her.

“Why do you hate my brother so much?” Georgia’s tone wasn’t as upset as I had expected. As twins, she and Charles were incredibly close, and yet Georgia always seemed so amused by the visceral reaction I had every time I saw her brother.

“I don’t hate your brother,” I bit back – unconvincingly.

“Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Georgia winked.

“There’s no way Charles would agree to this! Why would he? The sponsors aren’t actually going to drop the racer all of the bookies have their money on.”

“No, you’re probably right, but his sponsors could make this very, very painful for him. Being seen having a one-night stand with a female driver who was dating your friend and a fellow racecar driver jsut days after their supposed break up, is a very bad look for Charles – and judging by the comments on his Instagram this morning, the fans have noticed. Believe it or not – Charles loves his golden boy image, and that image is unmistakably tarnished.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe that Charles loves his golden-boy image.” I couldn’t help but snicker, as if Georgia thought the entire grid wasn’t constantly witnessing Charles enjoy his status as the grid’s most desirable driver. The press loved him. The fans loved him. All of Monaco loved him.

Well, I guess until he slept with a certain rebellious Brit. That thought had me slightly grinning, a grin that was quickly wiped off my face as Georgia cleared her throat; her look of disappointment was noticeable. 

“Georgia, there’s no way Charles is going to agree to this,” I insisted. The only thing Charles hated more than losing his precious reputation was the idea of dating the rebellious, stubborn British driver whose dirty laundry filled up a laundromat full of machines. 

“He already has.”

Stunned didn’t describe how I felt as Georgia said the words. Not a single bone in my body believed what she was saying. 

I was speechless.

“There’s no way…”

“There is. I spoke to my brother this morning after I chatted to Toto. Toto didn’t ask me if you were dating, but I could tell by his voice that he was definitely hopeful the two of you were dating. The Mercedes social media posts have been full of fan’s inquiries – and Toto said Petronas were asking as well.”

“So what you’re saying is none of these traditional sponsors want a grid slut… really puts a new meaning to grid girl.”

“Lily….” Georgia chastised as she rubbed her temples.

“No, no, it’s fine. No need to remind me of my place Georgia. I suppose I should be happy that my ‘hero’ Charles has come to my rescue, hmmm? Best to not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Again, I knew the sarcasm was untimely and incredibly rude, but the entire thing felt like a slap in the face.

“Look, I know it’s not what you want, but not only will it help boost both of your images, but it’ll put all of those dating rumors from Louis at bay and shut him up. 

We’re looking to get ahead of things. If you and Charles announced that the two of you are dating, then Louis can’t exactly come out and say that 'no, in fact, Lily and I were dating.’ It would be much too embarrassing for him, especially since he has a new girlfriend. This stops all of the rumors about you and him and settles it once and for all.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There’s no way this was a good idea. Even if this worked, it wouldn’t matter, Charles and I would kill each other before either of us could see the benefits of this arrangement.

"And what does precious Charles get out of this?" 

"Charles can restore his image and reputation. He's always been a relationship boy, and his relationship with whatever-her-name-was has been out of the public eye for some time now. He's never been the one-night stand type of guy, and this way he can have a positive relationship that won't get in the way of his racing."

I threw my hands up in disbelief as I exclaimed, "That's just great! So now I'm helping not only my rival with his PR image but also his racing? Fabulous!" I could only hope that Georgia would pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. "As far as I see it, you're helping each other," she said pointedly, and I knew she was reminding me of what I had at stake here. "Look, you don’t have to get back to me today. We have a couple of weeks’ break, and you have a few days at home. Take a day to think on it?”

“I don’t have to think on it. It’s a no.” Georgia just smiled at me as she sipped her small decaf coffee.

“Just take some time to think on it, Lily.” 

Without sparing Georgia a glance, I stormed out of her hotel room and marched myself back to mine. 

The notion of even considering this idea was so absurd that my blood boiled in rage.

Hell would have to freeze over before I would ever date Charles Leclerc. 

Hate To Love You Tag List

@auawdo @franx3sxa  @noeesd19  @opfire @sgkophie-writes @kidlnthedark  @dan3avocado  @lwstuff  @montenegrina086 @lovingdennishauger @softiecaro @giuseppeyuki @lecsainz55 @she-shines-bright @angstyturtlewitch @smoooothoperator  @xscorpioxmoon @zoobabystation @irmpyrz @holaputanas @imnotcryingyouare1 @noncsi87 @lissimountf1  @stas-0 @miniminescapist  @khadijahisham @earfquak3 @fuckedupbutadorable @whosays75 @eas-8 @its-skywalker-luc @cawamities @sainzcaleruega @internetgremlin-writes @alina-starksov @buendiabebeta @abditory-77 @lightfury10 @starxqt @pancakesonacow @lestappenwhore @juliantheupsidedown   @queenslife @messyblondsblog @samsationalwilson @cocomira  @lovelyxtom @alexturnersmic505

#charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 #charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc smut #f1 smut #Charles Leclerc x you #formula 1 #charles leclerc x ofc #f1 fanfic #cl16

[effen-draws]

Uh, remember when I said that I’d do a little painting practice with the swap!Kim archetype concepts that I made for this ask? 

…Yeah I got a little carried away so here’s THINKER fully finished!! Perhaps when I have time for art again I’ll do SENSITIVE and PHYSICAL. I had too much fun with this one to not take a stab at the other two at least:-]

But while you wait for that I also write a Disco Elysium swap au fic. Yeah. I guess I’ve gotten to the point of shameless self promotion. This is the monster I’ve become. The positive feedback I’ve been receiving only made me evil. Sorry.

#Anyways I'm kinda super happy with this one #who knew that finally having time to study Rostov's art makes you this powerful #disco elysium #disco elysium art #disco elysium fanart #de #de fanart #de kim #kim kitsuragi #lieutenant kim kitsuragi #disco elysium swap au #de swap au #disco elysium fanfiction #disco elysium fanfic #illustration #digital painting #my art #Related to the Rewind Refind fic #effen's art

[alovesreading]

Quarter Past Midnight

Summary: Thanks to your best mate, you’ve found yourself welcoming the New Year at a party one of her bosses is throwing at her new house. Since you stepped foot in the place, your only plan has been to spend the night dancing and drinking with your friends. But it all changes when you find a certain bassist looking at you from across the room. And as the night progresses, and a few kisses are shared, you seem to agree on the fact that you’re leaving the party together.

Word Count: 19.4k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, lots of cursing, suggestive dialogue and smut.

A/N: Hello!!! I'm so excited to finally be posting this one shot since the idea for it was born back when we were writing Chicken Shop Date chapter 6! You know, when Ross disappeared most of the night to socialise... So this is basically the spin off of that part of the story. I'm sorry it took me so long but, then again, it had always been the plan to post it today because it's the one and only @imagine-that-100s birthday and I thought a filthy Ross one shot was the perfect gift for Mrs. MacDonald herself. I hope you all enjoy it loads and remember: keep both hands on the phone!!

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You really fucking love the holidays. It’s probably your favorite time of the year and every gathering that is thrown during this time makes you the happiest.

It’s so much fun spending Christmas and boxing day with your family, but it’s even better to spend New Year’s Eve with your friends.

When you were a teenager, you had adopted the tradition of welcoming the new year in company of your mates and that had stayed with you despite your friendships coming and going as time went by.

Every New Year party was a different crowd and you love thinking about the differences between them, from who was attending to the theme—if there was one.

You would’ve attended your co-worker’s party this year if it wasn’t for the fact that you had gone to it the previous year and it had been horribly boring so you had opted to accept the invitation to a party that one of your best mates from university sent your way.

Cecilia worked for a creative agency that designed many artists' stages for their tours and she even went on to help the promotional aspect of said tours, so through her you had met many people that had left you quite starstruck. That’s why when you found out this was going to be a party thrown by Charli XCX, one of the artists that she works with, you accepted in a heartbeat.

And now here you are, sipping on a vodka cranberry soda and swaying your hips softly to the beat of the music playing through the speakers as you listen to one of Cecilia’s co-worker’s stories.

You’ve been keeping to your mates ever since you arrived at the big house a few hours ago and now that it’s a little over an hour until midnight, you find yourself a bit tipsy from all of the drinks you’ve been nursing the whole time.

You feel bad for tuning out whatever story is being told and choosing to people watch over the girl’s shoulder, nodding absentmindedly as if you’re listening but your eyes are swimming around the place and looking for something interesting to latch onto so at least you have some entertainment as you waste your time waiting for midnight.

What you aren’t expecting is to see someone already looking at you, and you raise an eyebrow with a smirk on your face when he doesn’t let the fact that you’ve caught him staring steer his gaze away from you.

Instead, the bearded man looks you up and down slowly, tongue swiping across his bottom lip teasingly as he takes you in and you would be lying if you said his shameless behavior didn’t make your stomach flutter with a hint of want.

It shows on your face just how much you’re enjoying the attention and it makes him more smug when he sees you smirking at him after he’s drank in your appearance. You’re wearing a tight black dress that falls down to your ankles but there’s a slit on the side that lets the skin of your left leg show smoothly up to your mid-thigh; the velvet material hugs your body beautifully, accentuating every curve of yours and the square scoop neck of it held by two thick straps on your shoulders allows for your tits to be perfectly hugged and showcased.

All he’s thinking about at the moment is how fucking gorgeous you are and he can’t peel his eyes off you.

“Hi.” You mouth at him, the slightest bit shyly and it’s pathetic how easily he gets your smile to grow on your face when he reciprocates with the same mouthed word and a bright grin.

You roll your eyes at yourself mentally when you feel the heat coming up to your face and just because you can’t keep up with the eye contact, you turn back to your friends and tune back into their conversation. Thankfully, they had been too engrossed in it to notice your lack of attention.

Jumping back into the conversation, you’re aware of every minute that passes by and so when you realize it’s been at least ten, you turn back to where the tall man had been and smile when he catches your eyes on him after a mere few seconds. He looks incredibly handsome in the black on black outfit he has on: black button up with its long sleeves rolled up just below his elbows and it’s tucked into black trousers that fit him perfectly.

It’s a game of who can keep up with the eye contact the longest from then on, and maybe there’s an underlying message to every look which is probably you both daring each other to go up to the other first. You’re also trying to think about where you find him so familiar from but your brain is a mush at the moment so you can’t really come to a conclusion fast.

Stolen glances and cheeky smiles is all you share for the next fifteen minutes, and you sigh to yourself when you find your glass empty and he’s still not made his way over to you.

Softly, you excuse yourself from the conversation and make your way to the kitchen where you know the drinks are and when you get there, you smile at the people around and silently get yourself a refill.

You’re about to pick up your glass when a deep voice startles you but you’re quite pleased to see the man you’ve spent a while looking at when you turn around. He’s standing right in front of you and since the kitchen is a bit crowded, it would take for him to lean into the marble of the kitchen counter to have you trapped in between it and his tall frame.

He smiles down at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes and starts his chat with you by asking, “What are you drinking tonight?”

“Vodka cranberry soda.” You reply factually, your lipstick smudge showing prominently against the rim of the glass after the shy sip you take of your drink.

“You’ve got a sweet tooth.” He scowls like he disapproves and it makes you roll your eyes in amusement.

“Do I? What are you having then? A beer?” Your tone is sassy and it sparks up something inside him.

He purses his lips briefly, like he’s trying not to laugh and eventually says, “Whiskey.”

You’re just trying to wind him up a bit when you say, “Can’t say I’m a fan, prefer rum.” accompanied by a clearly forced smile.

“Course you do.” His eyebrows raise and he puts on an unimpressed face but inside he’s just thinking, I like her.

Your scoff is loud enough for only him to hear, “Okay stop trying to make assumptions, you know nothing about me.”

He gives you a good surprise when he straightens as you say that and swiftly answers, “Which is exactly the problem.” You pretend that has just not made your knees go a bit weak and accept the handshake he offers you as he introduces himself, “I’m Ross, you are?”

“Y/N, nice to meet you Ross.” His grip on your hand is delicate but you know he’s holding back, though the brief feeling of the roughness on his fingers makes your mind go places it shouldn’t.

“Lovely name. Y/N. I like it.” It makes you laugh how he nods his head in approval, and at the sound of your giggles he smiles at you.

He’s definitely a sight and you just can’t waste the opportunity to shamelessly flirt so you chat back with a suggestive, “Rolls off the tongue quite easily doesn’t it.”

Which he gets straight away because a smirk breaks on his face and he quite explicitly quips back with, “Sure it does in more ways than one.”

“Oh we’re going there?” You try to act innocent as if you weren’t trying to go to that place with your words.

But Ross is quick to act just the same with an airy and faux confused, “Where?”

“Don’t play dumb now.” You take a sip of your drink with your eyes sternly on him like you’re warning him not to.

“M’not, love.” Feigning honesty he places his free hand on his chest but leans in to whisper in your ear, “But if there’s somewhere you want us to go then let me know.”

When Ross leans back, he gives you a subtle wink and suddenly you feel a bit out of control because of everything that you’re feeling inside. Especially how his words, which sounded like a dirty little secret when he dropped his voice an octave, went directly down between your legs.

“You northerners are so cheeky, aren’t you?” You had caught the accent from the very first second he spoke to you and you cannot say it didn’t fall on your ears like warm honey. It was thick and sultry, you kinda wanted him to whisper in your ear again because it felt way too nice.

It seems that it filled him with pride that you had caught onto that fact but now he was curious, “And where are you from?”

“West London.”

“Makes sense then.” He snorted out in laughter and it had your jaw falling in amusement.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You have to force yourself not to laugh because you know exactly what it meant, you’re well aware of your posh accent and you’re completely used to people taking the piss out of you for it.

But Ross shakes his head as he giggles, “Nothing, I’m just fucking with you.”

His answer gives you the perfect opportunity to turn it flirty and you like the way his eyes go dark when you say, “Yeah you wish you were, you div.”

He smirks hearing you use the insult lightheartedly but loving how you keep flirting with him, so he lays it on thick, puffing his chest out as he agrees with your words, “Maybe I do.”

You steer the conversation away from the topic then, unsure if you’d be able to function if he keeps saying things like that to you, and you ask him how he’s managed to end up at this party. You blush like an idiot when he tells you it’s his best mate’s house you’re in and that’s when it clicks that he’s in the band that George is in.

He asks how you’ve ended up there but before you could properly tell him about your best friend working for Charli XCX, he asks if you want to go outside so you can properly talk without all the noise.

Soon enough, you manage to weave your way through the crowd, with his hand placed on your lower back which makes your skin feel like it’s being lit up under his touch. And when you finally get outside, he offers you a cigarette which you turn down.

You’re not really a smoker but god does he look good as he takes the first drag of the cigarette while waiting on you to tell him the story of how you’ve ended up in this party.

Ross listens intently as you tell him how Cecilia and you met in fresher’s week in uni and ever since then you’ve been inseparable. He laughs when you tell him you work at a law firm as a paralegal and just as anyone would expect, the holiday parties your co-workers would throw were dire and you had learned that the hard way the previous year.

He admits he thinks he’s heard of your best friend through Charli and he hints at having seen her at Leeds fest earlier that year. You confirm that she was indeed there for Charli’s set in Leeds and you manage to get him laughing again when you refer to the band he’s in as the one where the lead singer eats the raw meat and gets himself off on stage.

“Yeah, that’s us in a nutshell.” He laughs a bit more, and you cackle loudly before clarifying that you actually did know them.

“I’m joking. Though, that is all I really know about yous lately. But yes, I’ve heard your music before. Your first album remains my favorite.” You’re being entirely honest about it now and it elicits a sweet smile from him before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Was it Robbers?” He asks with a smirk, as if he’s clearly reading you.

But you shake your head, “It was actually The City. Heard it once and I was sold.”

Ross hums at her answer, it settles in him the fact that he likes you and without really knowing, his eyes fall on your lips as he continues to silently smoke. Your stomach flips at the clear cue, and you have to let your eyes wander somewhere else before you can continue with the conversation.

The tension is growing heavy over you so in an attempt to lighten up the mood a bit just for your own sake, you joke, “That Matty guy really likes kissing people doesn’t he?”

“He does.” Ross apprehensively replies, taking one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

You bite your bottom lip as you watch him and hesitantly steer the conversation into a territory you’re intrigued about, “He kissed you didn’t he? I think I saw that the other day.”

“Yeah, he did.” The bassist has no idea where this is going, but he’s taken over by the feeling that this will be one of those times someone goes to him to get to Matty.

And when you cheekily say, “Quite jealous of that actually.” a heavy weight comes to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry to say he’s got a date tonight.” He says rather dryly, and you notice instantly the way his behavior shifts. He avoids looking at you, his attention suddenly taken by the tumultuous party inside, taking his glass up to his lips to down the last of his whiskey like he was in a hurry.

You find it rather funny, but also you’d hate to miss a chance with this gorgeous man thanks to a misunderstood comment so you clear up with a soft smile, “Not jealous of you, jealous of him.”

That blank look on his face changes in a split second the moment your words reach his ears, and you watch that smirk you’d been growing used to seeing the past few minutes make a comeback.

Ross takes a step closer to you and it makes you have to look up at him. Even with the high heels you’ve got on, he’s still taller than you and you quite like that. Smoothly, he wraps an arm around your waist so he can pull you flush against his chest, “Should’ve mentioned that before, love.”

The pet name does to you the same as his lips trapping yours does—your knees buckle a bit and you instantly are wrapping your arms over his shoulders to keep him in place. The contrast between his soft lips and his rough beard drives you mad, your mouth falling open in a gasp that he swallows at the feeling of it all. And his tongue coming to meet yours has you dizzier than all the vodka you’ve had so far.

He tastes like whiskey and tobacco, and his tongue is diligent as it goes against your own. Your thoughts go straight to a lustful place, wondering if he’d be just as intent between your legs and adding what his beard might feel like against your thighs has you letting out a breathy moan in the kiss.

His fingers dig into the clothed skin of your waist possessively, like he wants to leave his mark on you and it only grows the need you feel running through your veins.

Your free hand goes up his neck and digs into his hair, which is annoyingly tied in a low bun that you end up pulling as if to say you wanna undo it and have his long hair fall freely so you can pull on it just how you want to.

A groan comes from deep in his chest and you swallow it proudly. You just cannot fight how much you enjoy the sound you’ve gotten out of him and it shows in your smile that interrupts the kiss, as he’s left half pecking your teeth.

You pull back slightly, looking down at his swollen lips which have a bit of your lipstick smudged on them and bring your thumb to clean them as you conclude, “That was good.”

“Very good.” Ross mumbles against your finger, biting the pad of it in the middle of your task which has you giggling like an idiot.

You stay silent and focused on his lips when you continue wiping them and once you’re done, you ask quietly, “Have you got anywhere to be first thing next year?”

“Like after midnight.” He asks back a bit puzzled by your wording.

“You’re so smart.” The sarcasm in your voice has him rolling his eyes in fake annoyance, but inside he’s excited and intrigued about what it is that you’re trying to do.

Your hand leaves his face to fall on his chest, and he notes how he likes this proximity with you as he says, “No, I don’t. Why?”

You pray he can’t see how nervous you are when you bravely ask, “Wanna come over to mine?”

In all honesty, Ross hadn’t expected that to be your inquiry but it’s the best surprise, “I would like that, yeah.” He would more than like that, he would love that but he plays it cool to not throw you off.

You’re trying to act cool as well, shrugging your shoulders and giving an alternative as if it didn’t matter where you went, “Or back to yours, I don’t mind.”

And it didn’t really matter where you ended up at, you both know where this is going and you couldn’t be more excited about it. No better way to start the new year.

“I’m fifteen minutes away.” Ross tells you in all honesty and seeing the sparkle in his eye at the last minute planning makes you incredibly giddy.

It shows just as clear in your smile when you say you’re “Thirty.” minutes away.

And the answer to where you’re taking this later is clear, only Ross settles it in stone when he says, “Mine then.”

You hum, looking down to his lips again and stealing one last peck from him before you nod and nonchalantly reply with, “Alright.” as if you’re not mentally begging time to go faster so you can leave with him.

“Shall we go back inside?” Ross asks with a smirk on his face, you can see how clearly smug he is about this going the way it is and it excites you.

So you nod, letting him take your hand and guide you inside. You walk past a large group of people and stumble into George, who’s at the decks queuing up some songs for everyone’s enjoyment.

You greet him and congratulate him on his stunning house and the brilliant party, pointing out how much you love the disco ball hanging from their ceiling, and he gives you a smile and a wholehearted thank you in return. You’d met George a fair few times when you got to go to Charli’s gigs as Cecilia put you in the guestlist, and he’d been an absolute sweetheart from the moment you met. You hadn’t even recognized him from his band then, and it had been rather refreshing to him that someone he met was being nice to him just for the sake of being it and not because of his job and who he was.

Of course the drummer tells Ross about it right then, very briefly how you had apologized for ten minutes straight for not recognizing him back then and you’d promised him you’d listen to his music again soon.

Ross pinches your waist as he laughs and he tells George how you hadn’t recognized him either until he’d said he was in the band with the drummer. Adding a paraphrased recount of you only knowing about Matty wanking on stage and eating raw meat.

You fully feel yourself burning up and you shake your head at them. “Yous are the worst.” You say with narrowed eyes and scoff before you’re excusing yourself, “I’m gonna get myself another drink, please continue taking the piss.”

Their laughter is what you hear behind you as you try to make your way through the crowd until the music drowns you and you get to the kitchen. There you fan your face and you smile like a fool to yourself.

However, suddenly, a squeal slips past your lips and it isn’t because of you thinking back to what has happened in the past twenty minutes, but because Cecilia pokes your ribs before she complains about you disappearing.

“Where have you been? It’s been almost half an hour and you still haven’t gotten another drink?”

You press your lips together and then turn back to your glass so you can make yourself your drink, “Sorry, I sort of got carried away talking to this guy…”

The loud gasp that she lets out manages to make you giggle shyly, “Who?!”

“Ross…” You quietly let her know and you leave her frozen in her place while you pour some vodka in your glass.

Silence engulfs you until you’re done making your cocktail and when you look back up to your best friend, you laugh at her agape mouth.

“As in–” She starts saying in shock and you nod.

“As in George’s best mate.” You bring your glass up to your lips and take a long sip, the sweet drink refreshing your throat but you can’t help but think back to how much you’d like to taste Ross again.

Before you can go back to the bassist though, Cecilia is dragging you back to the rest of the group you’d been with at the start of the party and squealing like a high schooler, she makes you tell her all about what’s happened.

You keep it brief, not really wanting to get in too much detail and ruin this for yourself but it seems like the simple knowledge that you’ve kissed him outside has them screeching and asking questions about it for what feels like an age.

It’s a miracle they let you go to the kitchen to get one of those little Patron bottles you’d seen laying around so that you could do shots together but what you aren’t expecting is for Ross to be leaning by the door of the kitchen seemingly waiting for you to come around.

“Where’d you go?” He asks curiously once you walk up to him, his arm snaking around your waist to bring you closer and it makes you smile.

You sigh, free hand coming up to his shoulder and you smooth the fabric of his black shirt there before you look up at him to say, “My friends found me and complained about me disappearing.” You watch as he analyzes every inch of your face and hums at your excuse, “They’re waiting for me now to bring them some tequila so…”

The silence that comes over you two after you drift off is nice, it’s not really that much silence because the music is still loudly shaking the walls but it’s peaceful enough to have you enjoying each other’s company.

He breaks it when he leans into your ear to say, “You better have not promised anyone a midnight kiss.”

You wait until he leans back and is looking at you for you to shake your head, “I haven’t.”

A simple, “Good.” is what you get back and you roll your eyes in amusement at the fact that this is clearly him wanting to have you say the words.

“Why? You wanna kiss me again?” All inhibitions are slowly being pushed out of the window the more time you spend with him and it feels thrilling.

“You know I do.” Ross says almost pained at the fact that he has to wait more time to get to that moment.

But you relieve him when you assure him, “You don’t need to wait until midnight to do it, babe.”

There is nothing more to say to have him pouncing on your lips and the hint of desperation in his actions makes you moan softly in his mouth. Ross has both of his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, pressing you against him in such way that you’re dreaming about the moment you get to feel him like this without your clothing in between. Your hands come up to cup his jaw, his beard tickling the palms of your hands and you’re the one to tease his mouth open when your tongue comes to lick at his bottom lip.

The meeting of your tongues heats up the kiss, tasting each other makes you both hungry to take everything the other can give. As one of your hands comes to cradle the back of his neck, he lets his free hand slowly drop down your lower back until it’s resting over your ass and a gasp slips past your lips when his fingers dig in your clothed flesh.

You certainly love the way he kneads your ass, cupping it and squeezing it with no mercy and you’re left wondering if he’s just like that in bed. Everything is so promising so far, you can feel the wetness starting to pool between your legs and ruining your underwear.

Instinctively you clench your thighs together and he chuckles into the kiss when he notices. Shy is not a word that has ever been used to describe you and Ross learns that by the way you seem smug about him catching onto you trying to relieve yourself even a little bit.

You pull back with a massive smirk on your face, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath and a subtle grind of your hips on his. The heavy exhale he lets out hits your parted mouth and you have to bite on your bottom lip to at least conceal in the slightest how that feeds into your ego.

His hand which was still on your ass confidently, squeezes it harshly and you drown the mewl it elicits out of you by pressing your lips together. Ross stares at you, eyes dropping from your eyes to your lips to your chest and then back up to your eyes so he can breathlessly ask, “How fast after midnight can we leave?”

“That eager?” It’s so hypocritical of you to tease him for it when you’re just as eager to go but you will never pass on the opportunity to have a man show you how much they want you first.

And Ross doesn’t let up exactly what’s going through his head, “You look stunning and I really don’t know if I can kiss you again and not want to take you in the middle of the room.”

Those words are enough for you to fully make up your mind about it all, if you had been sure you wanted this earlier then you’re entirely convinced there’s nothing else you want to do now.

It’s quickly that you think about the best time frame for you to go, you come to the conclusion, “Half past. I need to spend a bit of time with my friends so they don’t say I ditched them for some guy later.” You don’t necessarily want him to know you’ve told them who you had been talking to and kissing just in case that could put him off.

But it’s the way he narrows his eyes at you and pinches your ass as he repeats, “Some guy…” that makes you think maybe he wants you to tell them.

“Does it hurt your ego, Mr. Rockstar?” You can’t help but tease, there’s a darkness that shadows the brown of his eyes when you push at his buttons and you enjoy trying to find out what it is that could happen when he snaps.

Ross shakes his head at you, a soft chuckle managing to escape while he tells you to, “Shut up.” before he’s doing it himself.

Kissing him is something that you’re finding yourself to really enjoy and so you relish in the feeling for as long as you can. Your hands are in charge of keeping the other as close as possible, clutching onto each other tightly as if there was the possibility of being taken away. Nothing else is in your minds, wanting to take each other to the limit and that is until your lungs beg you to offer some oxygen to them and your lips separate from his with a smack.

“Okay, go on.” Ross instructs, a hint of satisfaction filling his insides after kissing you again, his hand patting your ass softly, “Back to them now, love. I’ll come get you at midnight.” There was only less than twenty minutes to wait until then so he was fine with seeing you go, knowing he was gonna have you back with him in a bit.

You nod with mischief written all over your face and he winks at you when you peel yourself off him. Out of the corner of your eye you watch how he walks off back into the crowd of the party, leaving you a flustered mess looking for one of those damn little Patron bottles for your friends.

The task gets pathetically hard with your mind still stuck on the thought of the bassist, the feeling of his touch on you and his presence right next to you. Eventually, you manage to get one of the bottles and you all but run back to your friends, as if rushing back to them would help time move faster until you got to see Ross again.

It’s so pathetic but you blame your hormones and the lack of action in your life the past few months thanks to your job.

The shots you do with your friends loosen you up a bit. And you find your hazy mind easier to get lost in the conversation and laugh more at your friend’s jokes because of the way you lose any grasp on time.

And that is the reason why you don’t notice him walking up to you until he’s right beside you and his hand is coming to delicately hold onto your waist.

“Ladies…” Ross clears his throat as his eyes go to every one of the five girls in the group, offering them a smile that teases a glance of the dimples on his cheeks, “Mind if I steal her from you?”

You look up at him through half lidded eyes, your smile so big it reaches your eyes in such way that it almost closes them and, god, does he melt at the sight.

“Go ahead.” Cecilia smirks knowingly and just to taunt you both, she asks, “Is she coming back for the countdown or shall we say happy New Year already?”

You groan and roll your eyes at her because she sounds like your mum, which has her laughing to herself and the rest of the girls are trying not to giggle at your behavior.

Ross nods though, a smile plastered on his face as if permanently, “I’ll have her back with you afterwards, don't worry.”

“Enjoy it then.” Cecilia cheers with a tilt of her glass and Ross nods at the gesture.

“Happy New Year.” The bassist wishes them as he brings his hands from your waist to your hand, intertwining your fingers before starting to walk away from your group of friends.

A chorus of “Happy New Year!” is heard right as you’re turning around and you wave comically at your friends as you walk beside Ross.

When you had gotten to the party, Charli had told you to leave your coats and bags in a room somewhere in the house so you didn’t have your phone on you to look at the time. You did have a small watch on your right wrist though, and when you catch a glance of the time while Ross guides you back to his friends, you giggle.

“Five minutes early. Aren’t you impatient?” Your smile is big on your face and just thinking about how he has had to be looking for you for a bit makes your stomach flip.

His hands drop yours to bring it around your waist and guide you to walk in front of him, you bite your bottom lip when you feel him press himself flush against your back as you continue walking into the crowd.

“I think that’s being punctual.” Ross quips back easily, leaning down to say the words in your ear.

Just when you manage to walk past a large group of people dancing and you get to spot a bit far away from the center of the room, you stop in your tracks and turn around to face him.

Purposely, your arms go over his shoulders and wrap around his neck. He leans in, thinking you’re about to give him the opportunity to taste your mouth again but you skip past his lips and lean further until your lips graze his ear.

Whispering, you deem his behavior, “A bit desperate.” and he instantly reacts to it by digging his fingers into your waist and pushing his hips forwards to press on yours.

“You wouldn’t have come in time.” He explains breathlessly once you pull back so you can see his eyes again.

By pressing your lips together you avoid smiling too much at his words, humming before you play in on his train of thought, “So you were just making sure I kept to my word?”

“Exactly.” He nods with a serious expression on his face like you understanding his point was a pressing matter.

You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter and sarcastically note, “How kind of you.”

But before he can add something else in his defense, someone comes from behind you and Ross lets go of you to hug them. You watch with a soft smile and your cheeks burning up because of how they had found you and Ross and it seemed like these people were Ross’ long time friends.

“Y/N, this is John and his fiance, Lilly.” Ross introduces them to you and you shake their hands with a sweet smile on your face, “Lilly, John, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you!” You say kindly, and you’re so relieved to see the genuine smiles on their faces as they reciprocate the sentiment.

You expect Ross to start the conversation but he’s got an empty glass in hand and your hands are completely empty so he asks you, “Do you want another drink?”

“Oh, sure. Please.”

Ross nods and excuses himself quickly, the three of you watch as he walks in direction to the kitchen and when he disappears from your sights, you turn back to each other and start small talk.

In the few minutes it takes Ross to come back, you find that John plays the sax for the band and his fiance works in the medical field as a nutritional therapist and biomedical practitioner. They ask you how you know Ross and you honestly tell them about how you’d ended up at the party and met Ross an hour before.

The bassist appears behind you just when you’re sharing how you hadn’t recognized him at first until he said he was best mates with George, letting his presence be known with an amused, “Oh yeah, she had no idea who I was.”

You scoff, and you try to defend yourself by pointing out, “You looked familiar!” but he raises his eyebrows at you and tilts his head slightly at you like he’s saying wordlessly that he doesn’t believe you and all you can do is sigh in defeat. He hands you the drink he got for you and you say a soft, “Thank you.” before he comes to stand beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed to his side.

There’s something possessive about his touch and you find yourself enjoying it far too much, your head going places it shouldn’t and continuing to build on the anticipation inside you. It’s like a tower of wooden blocks that keeps growing taller and you know there’s only so much you can go without feeling more of him—or all of him, if you’re able.

Your conversation gets interrupted when you hear there’s only a minute left until midnight and after that, you’re all just warily letting your words out as if being careful not to miss the moment midnight strikes.

But it’s impossible to miss it when the countdown starts from ten and Ross swiftly turns you around with a smirk on his face that grows as you hear, “Five, four, three, two, one… Happy New Year!”

You meet in the middle, your hand cupping his jaw while his holds your waist. It is quite delicate in comparison to the previous kisses you’ve shared and you can’t help but think if it has anything to do with the fact that his friends are right beside you. Not that they’re paying you two any attention though, as they’re both lost in each other’s lips too.

The heat between your bodies grows when his tongue teases your open mouth but he lets you be the one to deepen the kiss. You really enjoy being the one to take control but soon it’s like he fights back to be the one to direct the kiss and the kiss elongates and becomes more intent until you just have to pull back to catch your breath.

“Happy New Year.” Ross wishes you with his pupils blown out, his gaze hungry looking down at you and his fingers resting tightly on your waist like he’s holding himself back from pouncing on your lips again.

With a quiet, “Happy New Year.” you reciprocate before being the one to grant his silent wish, and you’re really glad he’s holding you because your legs weaken when hearing him groan into your open mouth the second you crash your lips together again.

When you break the second kiss, it seems like he doesn’t want to let you go—his hand on your waist still holding you close to him and he dips his head to leave pecks on your lips that he’s trying to turn into a proper kiss again.

The giggles that escape you make him smile, your thumb rubs over one of his dimples matching his grin and you playfully remind him, “You promised I’d be back after midnight.”

“Did I?” He plays dumb, pressing another chaste kiss on your lips that makes you whine.

You shake your head at him, narrowed eyes like you’re really surveilling his every move and you press, “You did.”

The sudden announcement that comes from Charli through the speakers distracts you and when the song she’s announced being a remix she and George did for a Caroline Polachek song comes on, you forget you should be going back. You’re jaw dropped at the song, not only because of how fucking good it is but from the rather hot lyrics and you can’t help but think good for her about Charli when the song is over.

Turning back to the bearded man who still has a tight grip around your waist to keep you close, you make sure to give him a challenging look. Ross sighs in defeat and says, “You’ve got thirty minutes now.” not without cheekily letting his hand fall to your ass and squeezing it before you can go.

“Keep an eye on the clock for me then.” You say after you giggle, tapping on his chest and stealing one last peck before you’re off to hug John and Lilly to wish them a happy new year and finally excuse yourself to go back to your friends.

It’s not really like you want to go but you’re enjoying the tension building up and maybe you really want to squeal about it to your friends. You’re far too elated about it all and it’s hard to keep your composure in front of him with the lingering touches and the kisses he gives you, especially under the influence of the drinks you’ve had all night.

That’s why it’s not really a surprise you keep checking your watch when you’ve finally found your friends and you can’t go more than ten minutes with them before you’re hugging them all goodbye and saying you’re going back home.

Cecilia is the one who narrows her eyes at you, your eagerness shining through you and she has a feeling home is not really where you’re heading but she reckons if anything happens, you’ll be telling her soon enough—you’d just told them how you and Ross had shared a New Year’s kiss and had gone into a bit of detail about it.

There is almost a skip in your step as you go to the kitchen to leave your glass behind and then off to get your coat and bag, miraculously stumbling into the right door when you look for the room everyone had left their stuff at. And with growing excitement, you walk back to where you remember leaving Ross behind.

Ross is the one who gets surprised when he sees you walking in his direction from across the room. He pulls out his phone from the pocket of his black trousers and checks the time, frowning in curiosity when seeing that it’s merely a quarter past midnight.

“You’ve still got fifteen minutes.” He points out when he meets you in the middle, having excused himself from a conversation with some lads, pocketing his phone again.

You shrug nonchalantly, praying he can’t see the way you just can’t wait anymore written on your face, “Yeah well, I think we can use those to be on our way to yours.”

He smirks, downing the rest of his drink and using your words from before on you, “That eager?”

You just stare at him, your tongue poking on your cheek and you end up sighing to say, “You’re not getting an answer to that.”

Something shifts in him, dark eyes looking intently at you through his lashes and he leans closer to your face so he can mumble against your lips, “Oh I will, love.”

There is something about it, a hidden message—maybe a promise masked as a threat—and it makes every atom in your body buzz in anticipation. In your head you’re speculating all about what this could mean, picturing if he’s going to be the type to kiss you until you get to his room and then push you face down on his bed to fuck you into the matress or if he will be one of those who can barely make it to their settee before the need for release takes over and has you ride him with your tits pressed all over his face so he can suck bruises as you milk him dry.

You clench around nothing, getting flustered again and your arousal wetting your underwear. So you don’t waste another second to ask, “Are you ready to go?”

“Definitely.” He nods, grabbing your hand delicately and he smiles seeing your coat hanging on the crook of your elbow, your bag hanging off your shoulder. Yet, he still inquires, “Are you?” and you only hum in response.

That’s the green light he needs to pull out his phone from his pocket and order you two an Uber back to his place. Fortunately, it’s only about eight minutes that you have to wait for it to arrive since it’s not that late yet and you watch as he places the device back in his pocket before grabbing your hand so you can go outside.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your mates?” You ask quite puzzled, but he shrugs it off like it’s really not important.

“They’ll survive.”

It makes you laugh softly but you follow as he leads you to the front door. Someone opens it before he can and, of course, the quite tipsy girl who walks in seems to be his friend because they hug very briefly.

Comically though, Ross says hello and goodbye in the same sentence and you have to swallow a cackle when the girl’s face contorts in confusion. But she comes to an understanding when Ross pulls on your hand and you walk a step closer, almost pressed to his back.

“Hi.” You smile at her and wave amicably, your insides warm when you see her smile and wave back, about to say something to you but then Ross is a little shit and pulls you away as he walks through the threshold of the main door, taking you with him.

A mouthed apology is all you can manage before you’re closing the door behind you. “Taxi’s not even here.” You call him out for taking you away, but he nods like it’s knowledge that really doesn’t change anything.

Instead, he takes out his packet of cigarettes from one of his pockets and lights one up in between his lips, his cheeks hollowing slightly and the smoke coming out of his nose and his parted mouth.

His hand extends to offer you one but you once again turn him down, this time explaining further with, “I don’t smoke, Ross.”

To which he coos as if you’re a child, and his mocking, “Awh, aren’t you cute?” makes you roll your eyes.

It’s quite cold outside, so you put your coat on and cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep warm as you wait. He notices that regardless of that, you’re still shaking so he takes a stride towards you and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him—your cheek resting on his chest comfortably, taking advantage of the moment to inhale his scent and smile at the feeling of his chest hair tickling at your face.

He continues smoking as he cradles you into him and, despite having to breathe a bit of the smoke he’s exhaling, you enjoy the feeling of being held by him in silence.

It’s only a minute after he’s dropped the bud to the ground and stepped on it that the taxi comes around, greeting you with a lovely “Happy New Year.” that you both reciprocate. You’re the one to rush to open the door, but you don’t go in, instead you make Ross go first and, at first, he’s trying to get you get in before him but you stubbornly stand your ground and he begrudgingly enters the vehicle.

Ross is about to scoot to the side so you can sit to his left when you get in but his breath hitches in his throat when you let yourself land on his lap and you purposely squirm over him before you’re actually taking a seat to his right.

His head whips to the side to look at you but you act like you can’t feel it, your gaze stuck straight ahead but a smirk managing to tug at the corners of your lips against your will.

The taxi starts moving once Ross closes the door and the driver makes light conversation as he goes. You’re answering enthusiastically, letting him know a brief summary of the party you were at and giving him a little white lie about how you two were so tired that you decided to go back home early.

The smile on your face falters when you feel Ross’ big hand coming to rest on your thigh before he’s clutching it tightly and squeezing it to make you squirm in your seat.

“It’s been a long day mate. We’re going home and heading straight to bed.” He adds into the conversation, a blank expression on his face as if he wasn’t letting his hand slowly trail up further up your thigh, making your skin break out on goosebumps at the touch.

The leg slit of your dress has allowed for it to go further up and the skin of your thighs show dangerously close to where your underwear hugs your hips. And Ross is taking full advantage of the access he has to make your heart rate speed up. His fingers are rubbing circles on your skin, slowly inching closer to your inner thigh and you really have to bite your tongue not to shiver and make any noise.

He smirks when he hears your breathing getting heavier the more his fingers get closer to your heat and he annoyingly continues the conversation with the driver like he isn’t doing what he’s doing.

You jolt in your place when his pinky finger moves up and grazes your cunt, and you hear him hum to himself in satisfaction when he feels your wetness soaking the material of your underwear.

It’s a sadistic conflict that goes inside your head when he lets his hand trail downwards on your thigh again, feeling every inch of distance between his fingers and your center. You want him back touching you where you need him most but you also don’t know if you can keep quiet with how desperate you are for some friction.

The relief you get when he takes his hand up again is unreal, your mouth parting slightly in anticipation but you have to close it tightly not to let out a gasp when his pinky grazes you again but instead of leaving this time, he rubs it up and down your clothed core until he finds your clit.

Ross feels it pulsating under the pad of his finger and he smirks to himself when he starts drawing circles on it and your legs twitch.

You’re so incredibly turned on by him and the intent behind his actions, the high chance of you getting caught fills you with a rush of adrenaline that morphs into pleasure that’s making your head spin.

He’s so relentless at trying to get a proper reaction out of you that could get you caught that he presses a bit harder on your swollen clit and he’s victorious when you can’t hide the soft gasp that leaves you and you let your head pathetically fall down on his shoulder. Your hair coming to cover your face which is contorted in a frown induced by pleasure.

“Oh, is she falling asleep?” The driver asks, seeing your sudden movement through the rearview mirror and you’re half mortified hearing that, though Ross’ skilled finger moving on you takes over most of your thoughts.

Your walls are fluttering around nothing, and you feel like you’re so fucking close to the edge when suddenly, Ross’ hand is gone. He robs you of his touch in a fleeting second, hand coming to rest on your knee instead and he pats on it awkwardly in comparison to the teasing touches he had been leaving on you since the start of the drive.

“Yeah, bless her. She’s really tired.” He replies with a faux pity, you can hear the laughter stuck in his throat. “We’ll get to bed soon, love.” His words are now directed at you and you really want to glare at him and mockingly recite them back to him but you stay in your place and silent instead.

The driver, blissfully unaware of what had actually happened, kept quiet for the rest of the drive so he could let you sleep. Bless that old man. If he only knew you wanted to throw a tantrum over the pleasure that had been stolen from you.

It’s about seven minutes later that you stop at your destination and the sweetness you offer the driver when you bid him farewell and thank him is gone when you’re walking into the building with Ross.

His eyes are stuck on you when you’re walking next to each other, because instead of being close to him, you make it a show of inching away from him as you walk towards the lifts. He wants to laugh, his amused grin showing the dimples on his cheeks and the wrinkles by his eyes.

“You’re grumpy.” He points out when the lift doors close behind you, clicking on the button for the sixth floor.

Your scoff is telling enough but it becomes even clearer how annoyed you are when you spout, “You’re a fucking tease.”

The bassist coos at you, clear mockery of your inability to take it and it’s a contrast to the meek, “That’s nothing.” he lets out right after.

You’re huffing and puffing as you follow him through the halls but when you walk into his flat, you shed your coat with a pout on your face. Your tantrum melts into your best try at puppy eyes so he has some mercy on you and resumes what he was doing as soon as possible.

He looks at you entirely amused but he lets a bit of sweetness seep into his actions and words when he grabs your coat from your hands, “Let me get that for you.” He gets your bag next and hangs it right next to it.

Your skin tingles at the change of temperature from outside and you hum and close your eyes in bliss, mumbling a happy, “Oh, it’s warm in here.”

But he quickly points out how “You’re still shaking.” and you sigh because it’s a bit embarrassing he notices just how poorly you do in the cold.

“I know.” Your arms cross over your chest again and his gaze falls straight down to your tits, you’re pushing them up by doing that and he just wants to bite on the flesh of them.

You take one step forward and he comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. When he dips his head down, you feel the hair in the back of your neck rising and you almost shiver when he whispers, “Lucky for you, I know just how to get you warm very quickly.”

“Do you, now?” You mischievously quip back as you turn around, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, as if you know exactly what he’s going to do.

Except, Ross hums deeply and leans down onto you just enough for his hands to get ahold of the back of your thighs and with incredible strength, he picks you up like it’s nothing. It elicits a squeak to fall past your lips and your legs go around his waist instantly, you thought he was going to kiss you but him picking you up like this has just the same effect.

Like this, you’re the one to look down at him and you really like the way his eyes are drinking you in this way. It feels like ages but it’s barely half a minute. He bounces you up and catches you again, but it’s all so his hands could be holding you from your ass and it makes you laugh.

Your fingers go up his neck until they disappear in his hair and you softly pull on it as you say, “You think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

He cocks his head and he grips your ass as he starts walking, “Am I not?”

“I haven’t made my mind up about it yet.” Your answer is teasing like all of them before, and he’s already thinking about whether or not you’ll be a brat when you’re under him in bed.

Ross rolls his eyes playfully at you and you take the lack of witty comeback from him as the opportunity to pounce on his lips. He freely lets himself hum into the kiss, it’s hungry from the second your lips touch and your tongues taste each other desperately. It’s like you both agree there’s no time to be wasted here, not more than has been wasted already tonight, and the sound of your heels thudding on the floor after you toe them off is the confirmation of it.

You gotta say you find his ability to multitask impressive because before you know it, he’s kicking his door open without breaking the kiss and still holding you up.

His steps come to a stop when his knees hit the edge of his bed and you hold him tightly as he leans in so he can lie you on it softly. His right arm goes around your waist so he can help you up the bed, his left hand keeps your leg around him as he kneels on the bed and crawls up until you both can comfortably fit on it. Not that it’d be uncomfortable when you break the kiss and you catch a glimpse of the king sized bed you’re laying on.

In a blink of an eye, his lips have gone down to your jaw to start attacking the rest of your skin and you shudder under him when he licks from your collarbone up the side of your neck until his nose hits your ear.

His teeth catch your earlobe and it makes you gasp, he tugs on it softly and when he lets it free, he asks, “How about now?”

You try to suppress every reaction your body is begging to show, but letting a shaky breath before you conclude, “I reckon I need some more convincing.” A devilish grin shows on your face and he takes it in the view of you beneath him like this: hair splayed over the covers, pupils blown out and dark in lust, lips red and swollen from the kiss you’ve just shared, tits wanting to spill out of your dress.

He leans closer to your mouth, noses barely touching, “You’re greedy.” He mumbles against your lips and your first instinct is to lick his bottom lip.

The wetness of your tongue suddenly swiping across his mouth makes his hips buck into yours and you take your tongue back inside your mouth to show a toothy grin and agree, “I am.”

Ross is completely taken aback, and there is certainly not a thing he’s not thinking about doing to you, with you and on you. “Fucking hell, Y/N/N.” He curses in a low voice, his chest vibrates against you and you’re the one to grab the back of his neck to have his lips back against yours.

Your tongue laps at his and all that’s heard in the room is the loud smacking of your lips as the kiss grows fervent. Your hands go down his shoulders to the front of his chest and your quick nimble fingers undo each button of his shirt. You can feel his heaving chest under your hands once the shirt is completely open and you push it off him messily, wordlessly saying you want it off.

He breaks the kiss, a heavy breath hitting your parted mouth before he pushes off the bed and takes the shirt off the quickest he can. The second he throws it somewhere behind him, he comes back down to hover over you but this time he goes straight down to attack your neck.

His beard feels coarse on your skin but his swollen lips feel warm and he glides his wet tongue over the skin he bruises, and the combination of it all drives you crazy. He doesn’t relent on his actions, only making you moan and mewl louder as he goes.

You’re a whimpering mess when his hands start bunching your dress up until he reveals your stomach and he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on every inch of the skin he’s just uncovered.

The tips of his nose ghosts a trail down from your sternum to your belly button and further down until it hits the edge of your underwear, sitting just on your mound. His teeth grapes at the fabric and he tugs it a little only to let it spring free and snap against your skin.

You jolt in your place, a gasp coming from your throat out into the air and getting lost when he runs his tongue flat along the edge of the lace of your underwear and a moan gets stuck in the back of your throat.

“Are you gonna be good and do as I say?” He mumbles against the skin of your lower stomach, his beard tickling you and the feeling rushing straight down between your legs.

“Yes…” You nod fervently, your eyes closing tightly when he starts kissing over your clothed heat and when he licks a strip up your folds, you’re letting out a strangled, “Oh, fuck, yes!”

His cock twitches in his pants, and he feels himself starting to harden. “That’s a good girl.” Ross praises with one last kiss to you clit, his warm breath feels further away a second later and it has you opening your eyes to see where he’s gone.

He’s just staring at your ruined underwear, willing the image of you at his mercy to brand its place in his mind. His hands are on your thighs, so close to where your underwear sits on your hips and you have to plead with a pathetic and breathy, “Ross…” to snap him out of his trance.

“Yes, love?” The bassist asks, leaving a soft kiss on your inner thigh and looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please.” You lift your hips up to show him exactly what you’re asking for and he smiles sweetly at you, taking pity in your desperation.

“I know, I know.” He nods and his fingers finally hook on the sides of your underwear, but it’s at an agonizing speed that he peels it off you. He pulls back to take it fully off, throwing it mindlessly as he’s far much more interested in watching your glistening cunt finally on show for him. “Look at this sweet cunt.” He coos and his mouth water seeing your arousal making a mess of you, “So wet for me.” He lays on his front again, head between your legs and he hooks his arms under your thighs so his hands come clutching you in place over them. His hips buck forward and he groans at the friction relieving him in the slightest.

You take a deep breath which leaves you almost immediately when his tongue finally makes contact with your heat. He laps at you like a starved man, groaning from the depths of his chest at your taste, “So sweet for me.”

Your legs close around his head subconsciously and your hand comes to his head so your fingers can tangle in his hair as he continues lapping at you. His tongue starts flicking at your clit and it’s impossible for you to control your moans. His beard tickles the inside of your thighs and once again, it’s the contrast between the roughness of his beard and his wet tongue skillfully going quickly at your swollen clit that’s beginning to send you into overdrive.

“Fuck, Ross.” Your back arches off the bed and your fingers pull harshly on his hair making him groan against you, his hips writhe against the mattress and he’s sure he could cum just hearing you like this and dry humping the bed.

You’re just about able to catch a breath when he pulls back slightly but a loud whiny, “Shit!” leaves you when his lips wrap around your clit and he starts sucking on it with intent.

Your hips write against his face, looking for even more from him because you’re feeling the hints of an orgasm start to build up in your lower stomach. But then he pulls back, letting go of your clit with a pop and you whine at the loss.

His index and middle fingers come to take over and he rubs quick circles on your bundle of nerves. Your hips roll against his digits to aid in the friction and you really try to look at him but it feels so good that you can’t pick your head up from the mattress.

“Look at you clenching around nothing.” He points out, marveled at your dripping throbbing cunt.

A loud whine from your mouth bounces on the walls of his room, echoing out the hallway. Your mind is gone, all you can see is stars behind your eyelids and your only constant thought is him and getting to cum so you stupidly reply a desperate, “Yes, please!”

“Please.” Ross mocks with a laugh, his fingers stopping their attack on your clit to rub up and down between your folds, gathering your arousal, “Greedy girl. What do you want now? My fingers?”

An attempt of a hum comes from you but it sounds more like a moan, “Yes, anything. Please.”

“So well mannered.” Ross calls out, dropping kisses on your inner thighs, first the left and then the right and before he can wrap his lips around your clit again, he snorts, “Please, she says.” He sucks on your sensitive clit harshly and you yell out, legs starting to tremble.

He pulls back once again, earning him another whine in complaint but he dismisses it and asks, “Are you gonna be good and listen if I stuff you with my fingers?”

You nod eagerly, humming too so your confirmation is clear but he doesn’t accept it. With a slap to your clit, he makes you jolt and a high pitch moan comes out of you at the same time as he calls out, “Words, Y/N.”

“Yes, I will be good.” You reply breathlessly, “Please. I promise. Promise.” If he asked you to beg, you would. You couldn’t care less anymore.

Without a warning he dips one finger, your jaw going slack at the feeling of his long finger inside you but since you’re so wet, he knows you can take another one.

“Ohhhhh fuckkkk…” You breath out at the stretch, your walls clenching around him tightly and a shiver runs down your spine. Your toes curl when he drags them out slowly, almost all the way out to them dips them back inside you and just like that he sets a slow pace.

“Tight sweet cunt.” He says as he watches your cunt swallow his fingers, welcoming him warmly and drenching his hand as he goes. His mouth falls when he starts going faster and you meet him in the middle when you start bucking your hips into his hand, “All mine.”

Despite being knuckle deep inside you, he’s almost drooling, wanting more of you so he brings his tongue back on you, flicking at your clit again. You squirm and call out his name in sweet moans that he’s getting drunk on, but he wants you loud and begging so he goes back to sucking your clit and it makes him want to smile when you respond just how he wanted to the second he does that.

“Ross! Ross! Oh fuck yes!” You scream, nails digging into his scalp desperately while your other hand comes to claw at the duvet on his bed, white knuckle grip that serves as the only hint of grounding you have right now.

But any trace of sanity leaves you when he starts shaking his head, lips still wrapped around your clit and sucking. It makes you scream, your thighs fully closing around his head to keep him there, fighting the strength of his one hand trying to pin your right leg back down on the bed. His beard feels so fucking good, and you’re sure the beard burn will be worth enduring tomorrow because now every single one of your nerve endings is tingling at the feeling of it all.

He pulls back again, your legs falling limp on the bed again for a second before they’re shaking again but you’re being good and trying to keep them open.

Your arousal is glistening all over his beard and a mess of his spit and your wetness trailing down the corners of his mouth. His eyes don’t leave your cunt, looking intently at how he’s fucking into you, scissoring you open so you’re ready for him later.

His other hand comes to tease your clit, slowly this time. You had been so close just then, about to give in and fall off the edge when he took it from you. It’s torturous and you have no idea how much of that you can take.

Soon he feels you clenching around him, your orgasm building up faster now so he hums, “Just like that.” Ross rubs on your clit faster and you feel it coming at any second, the coil in your stomach about to snap so you get louder, pure gibberish as your thighs shake and they start to close again.

“So– So fucking good!” You manage out, your hips writhing against his hands again, the friction being incredibly perfect and you know there’s only a bit more left for you to let go, “Oh f-fuck, m’gonna cum.”

His fingers thrust into you. Once, twice.

And then, they’re gone.

“No, no, no, no.” Your eyes are wide, your chest heaving and a thin coat of sweat makes your skin glisten. The surprise has your grip on his hair and the duvet loosening so he kneels back on the bed and watches your reaction with a wicked grin.

You try to sit yourself up but you’re so frustrated, your body is exhausted and it doesn’t cooperate so you have to wait for him to crawl back up to you to see what he’s doing.

“You taste so good, love.” The cheeky fucker says before sucking his fingers clean, your arousal coating his tongue and he groans around his digits as he tastes you.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your push on his ass with your heels so he hovers over you. Desperately, you cup his jaw and start begging, “No, Ross. Baby, please. Please. Please.”

“Is it baby now?” One of his eyebrows raise and you nod stupidly. “You’re cute.” He replies with a chuckle and you whine in frustration.

You hate that he’s finding this entertaining, “Why would you do that? I was so close!” Another whine comes from you, making his grin impossibly bigger, “That’s not fair!”

His laughter is about to make you angry so before you actually snap at him, you bring your hand down to rub at your clit yourself. But before you’re even past your belly button, his fingers wrap around your wrist and he pins your hand on bed over your head.

A darkness shadows the brown in his eyes as he utters a curt, “No.”

“But–” You try to fight him but he interrupts with another, “No.”

Your mouth opens to complain some more but he kisses you to shut you up. His mouth presses harshly on yours and you whine in annoyance, you don’t want him to have control if he’s gonna play with you like this.

In an attempt to get him back, your hand goes to the back of his neck and to his hair, pulling on his man bun harshly so his head tilts back slightly with a gasp falling from his lips. Some strands of his hair fall free and tickle the sides of your face. You smile in satisfaction.

A fire sparks within him at your sudden defiance and with just the same strength, he grabs your other wrist and pins it over your head too.

He attacks your lips again, his hips pressing viciously into your sensitive core and you writhe against him in response, he’s so hard in his trousers and it makes you want to win control over so bad. You’re trying to fight who’s in charge here and god it’s turning you on even more.

The kiss is all tongue and teeth clashing, heavy breaths and groans, moans and spit dribbling down the corners of your mouths. But then he deprives you of yet again another pleasure when he pulls back. Yet this time he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, digging onto your delicate flesh, tugging on it as you pull back.

Wetness pools between your legs at his actions and you arch into him in pleasure, whining for him and because of him again.

He lets go of your bottom lip and you stare at him with your mouth agape, heavy breaths to get some oxygen back in your lungs and the ache between your legs almost hurting at this point.

That’s why, your eyes roll into your skull when he has one of his hands gripping both of your wrists in place over your head so his other hand comes to get ahold of your face and he seriously spouts, “Are you gonna be a brat and keep complaining? Or are you gonna be a good girl and take it?”

You don’t wanna give him an answer but you know exactly what you’re choosing and your pride takes a blow at it.

Alternatively, you figure there isn’t any better way to forget about words than clashing your lips together again but when you lift your head to capture his mouth in yours, he pulls back and demands, “Answer.”

You huff when he pies you off, rolling your eyes and clenching your fists, a long few beats of silence go by before you begrudgingly reply, “I’m gonna be good.”

“I know you will be.” Ross says with a wicked smile on his face, his ego getting a fill at you submitting yourself to him.

That’s when he finally gives you the pleasure of another kiss, this time more mindful than the last and he lets go of his hold on your wrists so you can touch him how you want, silently telling you this isn’t just about what he wants.

One of his hands delicately holds your face as his lips move on yours and his other hand is on your waist, fingers digging into your skin and lighting a fire under his touch. He goes up but finds your ribs still being covered by the velvet material of your dress so he tries to push it up, failing to move it even an inch.

You let go of his lips to offer him some guidance but you barely manage to tell him, “Zip’s on the back.” because his lips keep pressing wet kisses on your mouth.

Ross hums into your mouth when your lips interlock again but he only lets the kiss keep going for a few more seconds, a smack sounding inside the room when he pulls back slightly and then he mumbles against your lips, “Turn around for me, love.”

He says that but he actually helps you flip around so you’re laying on your stomach beneath him, his weight comes to softly press on you when he hovers over you again. His right hand pushes your hair to the side so he can uncover the skin on the back of your neck and he starts a trail of kisses from there.

His mouth leaves patches of wetness as he presses a kiss on every exposed inch of skin on your back, and you let out a few giggles when his beard tickles you on a sensitive spot.

The tension dawns heavily on you when his hand finally goes to grasp at the zipper and, very slowly, he starts pulling it down. You feel it reach its limit and his breath hits the newly exposed skin of your lower back.

The bed dips slightly when he crawls down so he can wrap his arm around your middle and pull you up to your knees on the bed, just like he is. You don’t argue, the anticipation makes you grow hotter and you quite like letting him handle you. With those big strong calloused hands of his.

A shiver runs down your spine when his ghostly touch comes over your shoulders and his fingers push on the straps on your shoulders swiftly. With the straps no longer holding the front of the dress up, the fabric falls flimsily to pool around your waist and your breasts are finally exposed, your hard nipples finally on show for him.

Ross props his chin on your shoulder and a heavy breath comes from him, hitting the side of your neck as he catches a glimpse of your beauty. His hands come back down to bunch the skirt of the dress up to your waist and he drops a kiss or two on your shoulder before he’s pulling the dress up your body and finally taking it off you.

The silence that has taken over the room is deafening, that’s why when he throws your dress on the floor you hear it land with a soft thud on his wooden floors. And when his hands hold onto the sides of your waist and pull you flush against his front, the gasp you let out rings loudly in your ears. You can feel his hard length pressed on your ass and you’re not sure how you’re gonna take him later, your cunt throbs at the idea of him splitting you open.

But he’s cruel about his touch, keeping it slow as his fingers trail up the sides of your waist, feeling every ridge of your ribs, coming down your abdomen to your thighs before he can even get to your tits. But when he does, you’re shattering the bubble of silence like a hammer to a mirror.

His hands come up to cup your tits and he’s gentle at first, gracing them like he’s trying to memorize how they feel in his hands. Your breathing grows heavy, and you’re baffled by the fact of how much you’re feeling from his touch on your breasts—attributing the fact that you’re feeling so affected by it because of him edging you.

But then Ross gives your nipples attention and you all but lose it with everything he does.

He starts by flicking them and bolts of electricity run down every nerve ending of your body. He stops and his hands start kneading on your tits harshly, making you whimper and lose stability. It’s like you’re drunk for a moment when his fingers dig into your breasts like he’s trying to mold them to his pleasure but then he shocks you awake when he pinches your nipples with his thumbs and index fingers.

“Fuckkkk.” You curse loudly as he continues to use that pattern, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder as you moan out into the air, your ass rubbing on his hard cock as you clench your thighs together.

You know he enjoys seeing you like this. You know it from the way his breathy laugh hits your neck, from the way his teeth sink into the flesh at the side of the base of your neck and you shiver in his arms, from the way he hums in approval of your every reaction.

And you honestly should’ve expected him to stop.

You should’ve.

But you didn’t.

So you’re left whining again, at the loss of yet another form of pleasure. But this time he doesn’t laugh at your needy behavior, instead he places soft kisses on your shoulder rubbing circles on your waist where he’s holding you.

He plants a string of kisses up your neck and when he reaches your ear, he whispers, “Can you lay on your front for me, love?”

There is no negotiation to be had anymore, nothing to be discussed within yourself because all you want is to reach your orgasm, so you nod desperately, spouting a rush, “Yeah, yes.” before you slowly lay back down on your front.

“You’re so good aren’t you?” His hands come to rest on your hips, rubbing circles on your skin as he admires the view.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, only softly because you don’t want to push it anymore. You don’t wanna fight him, you just want Ross to make you cum.

His hands pull your ass up and even with your hazy mind you understand what he wants, so you arch your back so your ass is up for him, your cunt on full show just for him and your face pressed on its side on the mattress.

“Poor little cunt, left it a mess didn’t I?” His words fall slowly from his lips, his tone lowering as he brings a finger down to your wetness and he bites his bottom lip when he runs it up and down your folds. He watches the slight tremble of your legs and he smiles to himself when you press your face straight into the mattress so a cry is muffled against the duvet, “Does it hurt?”

You turn your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, over your shoulder and you pout, another pathetic cry leaving you as you say, “Yes.”

“Should I help you relieve the ache?” He asks this time, his finger leaving your cunt alone to come grasp at the flesh of your ass and roughly knead it until you’re squirming and moving your hips in the air in search of something, anything.

“Yes, please, yes.” You plead desperately, not a sign of embarrassment in sight at how pathetic you sound.

“Should I?” Ross taunts you by asking, and you close your eyes trying not to cry so you don’t see him lowering down.

Your hands grip onto the duvet hard when you feel him start biting softly on the backs of your thighs and your legs start to shake instantly. He enjoys seeing the effect he has on you, and you feel the smile on his face when his lips graze up your skin and then back down, only to lick a stripe up your leg before he’s switching that for open mouthed kisses which come back around to soft bites.

Whimpers and begging is all that comes from you, your legs shaking and your mind going haywire from the sensory overdrive. It’s his beard combined with his wet tongue and his plush lips and his teeth biting on your flesh. You’re going mad.

You lose track of time entirely, drunk on every sensation he brings you until he finally goes back to where you’re aching for him—throbbing for him.

“Fucking dripping, babe” He points out, almost drooling at the sight but instead of tasting you again, he brings his fingers up and slides two in easily. “Look at you, taking me so well.” His fingers drag out of you and when he sinks them back in, he growls. “Think you can take a third, love?” He’s already daydreaming about stuffing you with his cock in a bit, hitting your hilt every time he thrusts into you.

Despite his mind being busy making up a scenario based on his current views, he notices you haven’t answered. You have your face pressed on the bed, almost suffocating yourself because you’re feeling so much pleasure, every moan is stuck in your throat.

His big hand strikes mercilessly on one of your ass cheeks, letting loose every noise you’d been holding and coming out in a yelp as you jolt forward. You clench around his fingers at the hit, and he smirks looking at the print of his hand becoming a darker pink as the seconds go by.

“Answer.” He demands with another loud hit on your ass, which earns him a pornographic moan from you. It goes straight to his cock, his hand coming to adjust himself in his trousers as if that could help in any way.

“Yes, I can take it.” You whine in an obnoxious high pitch. If you could see yourself now, you’d roll your eyes at yourself, sounding like a bitch in heat. But you don’t care right now, because he gives you what he’s promising.

With your approval, Ross slowly dips a third finger inside you and he hears your loud mewl as you stretch around him. Your walls adjust to the new digit after a few seconds and once he feels you relaxed again, he starts pumping them in and out of you at a decent pace.

The bassist is completely entranced by the sight, the squelching sounds of his fingers coming in and out of your dripping wet cunt fill the room along with the lewd noises you’re letting out and isn’t it a fucking scene.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the print of his hand red on your ass cheek and he can’t help himself from smacking it once more. But this time, it’s all too much and your knees lose strength so you’re falling limp on bed, his fingers slipping out of you and you gasp at the loss.

“No!” You cry out but before you can actually start crying this time, his left arm snakes underneath you so he can prop your ass up again and with no time to waste, he’s slipping three fingers inside you again.

This time though, Ross has some mercy on you and he makes up his mind about finally letting you cum. So his thumb skillfully starts rubbing circles on your clit as he continues fucking into you and you’re left clawing at the sheets in pleasure.

Your cheek presses on the mattress as you turn your face to the side to loudly gasp when he curls his fingers and he hits that spot that has you seeing stars, “Fuck, yes, just like that Ross!”

“Like this?” He puts on a naive tone in his voice before he curls his fingers again, and all you’re able to give back is a bunch of pornographic sounds that make him grow impossibly harder in his pants.

You’re panting with your face pressed on the bed, eyes shut tightly as pleasure bathes you, but he asks you to, “Play with your tits for me, love.” and he’s glad to see you’re listening when you do just as he says.

Your fingers are weak from the tight hold you had on the sheets so you’re very soft with the way you try to copy what he was doing on them before.

“Come on, love. You can do better than that.” He says as he purposely goes faster with his actions and you moan loudly at the increase in his pace. Wanting to appease him, you knead harshly on your tits and he hums in approval, “Yes, just like that. Now, pinch your nipples.” He instructs, his mouth going dry when you do it but he’s not feeling you squeezing his fingers with your cunt yet so he knows you’re not being deliberate about it.

“Hard.” He demands and when you do, your eyes tear up at the amount of pleasure running through you. You clench around his fingers tightly and he smiles to himself, “There we go. Don’t stop.” And you nod, entirely willing to do whatever he wants you to.

But you’re not sure you can continue with much intent when his thumb leaves your clit and instead, he brings his mouth to your clit to suck on it harshly again as he continues to relentlessly fuck three fingers in and out of you.

“Oh Ross! Fu– Fuck! Fuckkkk!” You chant as you feel incredibly close to the edge and a tear falls down the corner of your eye when he moans around your clit and the vibration of it is what tips you over.

Your legs shake uncontrollably as you cum, his left arm having to keep you propped up so he can fuck you through it but you’re cumming so hard, you yell his name over and over until you go limp and collapse in bed, completely exhausted.

“Such a good girl.” He praises you, dropping kisses on your back and rubbing circles on your ass cheek to soothe the soreness he left after spanking you that hard.

“Let me turn you around, yeah?” He softly speaks in a whisper in your ear and, in your completely fucked out state, you can only mumble incoherently and nod.

You don’t even register the way he giggles when you groan and call him mean as he turns you around, your ears only stop ringing almost a minute later, which he’s spent kissing all over your flushed skin, you hear him say, “You did so well, babe.”

Your eyes are lost, looking all over his face and a stupid smile tugs at the corners of your lips when you remember how you’ve gotten here.

He smiles back at you, and he leans in closer to your face so he can whisper, “You wanna taste yourself?” as if it was a little secret of yours.

The erotism of the offer makes you perk up and you nod, biting on your bottom lip as his hand dips down to gather your arousal with two fingers by dragging them up your folds.

“Suck.” He tells you once his hand comes up before your mouth and his slick covered fingers are entirely at your disposal.

You part your mouth for him to slip his fingers inside it and you moan around him the second you get a taste of yourself. He continues pushing his long fingers into your mouth until you gag when he hits the back of your throat, your eyes filling up with tears as you look up at him.

“So fucking perfect.” He praises you and he’s about to pull back but you bob your head up and down his digits and he curses under his breath. His fingers slip out of your mouth to cup your jaw, fingers digging on your cheeks as he says, “Fucking come here.” before he smashes your lips together hungrily.

Your head is still a bit gone after that orgasm, but you manage to keep up the pace he sets on the kiss, and you both can’t stop moaning when you taste your arousal on each other’s tongues. Your hands cup his jaw and you’re massively turned on by the mess your wetness has left on his beard.

After everything, you have almost forgotten about how he’s not gotten any relief yet, until his hips buck forwards and press into your sensitive core and you feel him rock hard against you.

Ross swallows a whimper you let out when his hard on presses on your overstimulated clit again but then his hips still for a second when one of your hands comes down between you and you start palming him over his trousers.

A guttural groan rumbles from the depths of his chest when your fingers wrap around his length over the fabric and he really has no self restraint left in him anymore so he starts thrusting up into your hand in search of relief.

You apply more pressure around him with your fingers and he stops kissing you, so he can let moans out against your mouth.

“Shit…” He mutters under his breath, the veins on his neck popping as he continues to buck his hips into your touch, meeting your strokes in the middle.

You hum in approval of his action, pecking his parted lips as you quicken your pace but that’s when he comes back around his senses and he stops moving.

Seeing that he stops, you slow down and a frown starts to show on your face. Thankfully, he looks at you through half lidded eyes and panting, he explains, “If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum in my pants.”

You clench around nothing at the prospect of him cumming inside you, so your hand leaves his cock alone to cup his jaw again and, fluttering your lashes at him, you plead, “Fill me up. Please.”

It’s animalistic, the growl he lets out and you gasp when he’s on your mouth again. Desperation, lust, need, is all you can think of when his lips move roughly against yours, his tongue almost fighting yours from how intent he moves.

And it has you speechless when he pulls back, struggling to catch your breath as he leaves you in bed to go over his bedside table and dig in the drawers for a condom. You tilt your head back to watch him finish undressing himself and your mouth goes dry when seeing the size of him.

Fuck me, is all you can think when you see him in all his glory.

He’s painfully hard, so swollen you can imagine the heaviness of him on your tongue. You almost start drooling thinking about how he might taste like, his tip already waking precum and you swear you would offer him to use your mouth as a mere hole so he can relieve himself after giving you the orgasm he did.

The muscles in his arms flex when he rolls the latex down his length, a groan of his ringing in the room and it travels right down between your legs.

When he’s back in bed, he kneels in front of you so the front of his thighs are flush against the back of yours and from that you were expecting him to take you in missionary but a split second later, you’re gasping when he twists your lower half to the side so one of your legs rests on its side right next to his and your other leg he lifts up when he hooks it on the crook of his arm.

With his left hand, Ross wraps his fingers around himself and brings his cock down to run down your folds, teasing your hole with a faint push of his tip.

“Ross…” You beg without the proper words, and he takes pity on you by dragging himself up again until he gets to your clit and he taps on it with the tip, making you gasp in pleasure.

It feels like ages pass when he keeps doing all of that, a cycle that makes your head dizzy but then he sees you flutter around nothing and he can’t wait anymore to sink himself inside you.

So he aligns himself and slowly, sinks an inch of his inside your cunt. “Fuck me, you’re so tight Y/N/N.” He curses loudly as inch by inch you welcome him but, not even with how wet you are, it’s a struggle to push himself deep inside you.

One of your hands grips tightly at the duvet while the other comes to grab ahold of the arm with which he’s lifting your leg up. He’s stretching you out so good, you’re tearing up again and your jaw goes slack, “Oh Ross!”

“You feel like fucking heaven, love.” His words sound strangled as he pushes the last of himself in and when he bottoms out, he stills. Hips flush against your ass, his pubic hair tickling you when he adjusts his standing on his knees and it earns him a loud whine from you when he moves inside you slightly from that.

You curse and pant, relaxing slowly and when he feels your walls finally accepting his girth and size, he kisses your calf so he can have your attention and get an answer when he asks, “Can I move?”

“Mhm.” You hum as you nod, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of him. But that means you don’t see as he lifts your leg further up until he props it on his shoulder and it’s when he leans into you the slightest bit that your eyes open wide at the angle.

“Ross, fuck! Move, please, move.” You desperately spit out, loudly so he doesn’t have a chance to mishear you.

And he does as you say, slowly dragging himself out of you a few inches before sinking back in. Your toes curl and your grip on the duvet and his arm grows tighter when he gives you a few more slow thrusts, a loud moan ripping out of your throat when he increases his pace a little.

The sounds in the room are lewd but they start getting pornographic when he leans forward further until his left hand comes to rest on the mattress right by your waist and his right hand presses your leg against his chest so it stays propped up on his shoulder.

From this angle, you feel him everywhere and you’re almost sure that if you looked down you could see him poking out into your belly when he pounds particularly harder on you.

“Like you were fucking made for me.” Ross says out into the air as he easily glides in and out of you, your wetness allowing him to increase his speed little by little and you’re gasping and moaning as his hips slam into you.

In between gasps, which he draws out of you with every snap of his hips, you manage to beg, “Don’t stop baby, please.”

“I won’t, I won’t” He promises, there’s not even a hint of stopping this in his mind, not when your walls hug him so perfectly and you clench around him when his pubic bone presses on your clit as he pounds into you.

“Can you take it harder, babe?” He asks sweetly, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your calf as if to offer some soothing in comparison to the way he has you folded.

Through half lidded eyes you look up at him, brows furrowed in pleasure, and you chant, “I can, yes, I can.”

The tone in your voice encourages him and he calls you, “Perfect girl.” before he draws almost completely out of you only to slam back inside you harshly.

“Fuckkkkk!!!” You yell, your back arching into him as he fucks you hard. His cock fills you up and stretches you out deliciously but the harshness of every thrusts feels like he’s splitting you open just like you had imagined, and you truly can’t think of anything better happening to you right now.

You're so close to your orgasm, your walls are closing tightly around him and Ross groaning and moaning like a mad man over you at the tightness of your cunt. And at the sight of it all, your skin glistening with sweat, the way your tits bounce as he thrusts into you, your pretty lips wet and parted with a string of spit dribbling down the corner of your mouth. He wants to kiss you so badly right now, but he doesn’t want to hurt you by folding you more than you are right now.

But you’re squeezing his cock so tight, it’s driving him insane.

“M’gonna cum Y/N.” He lets you know with a strangled moan, his fingers clutching onto your leg tightly and you feel him desperately speeding up in chase of his release.

You whine loudly and agree, “Me too, I’m so close.” nails digging in the flesh of his arm, and the hint of pain is what sends him over.

It’s a mess of grunts and moans as he cums, his cock twitching inside you as he spills into the condom and it’s the raw filth of the scene that snaps the coil that had been forming in your lower stomach.

You cum all over his cock, your name being the only cohesive word coming out of your mouth and turning into moans as he continues slamming his hips into you.

You’re too sensitive now but Ross has been holding back for so long, he feels like he hasn’t fully let go yet so he picks up his pace again and fucks fast and hard into your cunt, making you scream his name along with a string of curses.

He wants you milking every single drop out of him so he lets go of your leg, trusting that it’ll stay up on his shoulder and brings his hand down to your heat so he can play with your clit. The fast circles he rubs on it earn him high pitch cries from you but you squeeze his cock impossibly tighter and he growls as he continues to cum.

It’s all so much, and you’re soon feeling a second orgasm looming on you with the speed of the fastest roller coaster you could imagine until you can’t hold onto your sanity any longer and you just let go.

“Ross! Fuck!” Your scream bounces on the walls of the room as you cum, your release so intense you squirt all over his hand, wetting his thighs and drenching the duvet.

“That’s it! That’s it!” He chants as his thrusts falter, his fingers still rapidly flicking at your clit and you give him all that you’ve got.

He feels dizzy when he stops, almost like you’ve sucked even the life out of him with your cunt and he has to take a few deep breaths before he can gather his thoughts. Though his one and only thought right now is “Fuck, Y/N/N, you’re so hot.”

Ross allows you both a few seconds to catch your breaths before he pulls out of you, and you whine at the loss of him. You find your hazy mind managing to conjure the thought that you would do anything to feel him like that again and again and again.

Very carefully, he grabs your leg and brings it down on the bed, and he chuckles softly when you’re just laying there limply like a rag doll. Your skin is flushed and sweaty, and your chest heaves as you collect yourself.

The bassist crawls on the bed and hovers over you to start dropping kisses all over your face, brushing the hair that’s sticking to your skin back and watching the way your eyes flutter shut at the touch with adoration.

“Are you okay, love?” He makes sure to ask you, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek sweetly.

“Mhm.” It’s the only thing you can trust yourself uttering right now, simple and easy to understand unlike the knot of thoughts in your brain at the moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says genuinely, drinking in every detail of your face in the state you’re in. You smile softly at him, your eyes struggling to open since you’re so spent.

But you’re not surprised when he adds with a hint of awe in his voice, “Milking me dry and drenching me like that? Such a good girl.”

You giggle at his words, shaking your head in amusement at him. He’s such a boy.

He dips his head to capture your lips in a sweet brief kiss and then he’s pulling back, whispering “I’ll be right back okay?” against your lips.

He waits for you to give him an answer, which is just a simple nod since you’re still trying to gather your wits, and then he’s off the bed walking out of his room.

There aren't any clues about where he’s off to circling your mind, instead you’re trying to get your brain to work again. And of course, the second you find yourself coming back to reality, the first thing that flashes to the forefront of your mind is the image of him relentlessly pounding into you.

His brows furrowed and accentuating the wrinkles on his forehead and by his eyes, his mouth parted and letting his beautiful moans escape, strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty face.

You find yourself heating up head to toe again, and you know right then that you’ll be thinking of him on lonely nights when all you have at your disposal is your vibrator and your fingers to bring you pleasure.

Ross coming back into his room startles you out of your filthy memories of merely a few minutes before. He’s got a rag in hand that you find has been wet with warm water once it makes contact with your sensitive core.

“Sorry.” He says softly when you flinch as he wipes you clean and it makes you smile like an idiot.

You bite your bottom lip and hold your breath when he grazes your clit again so you don’t react badly and once he’s back on your inner thighs, you breathe out, “S’alright. Thank you.”

When he deems his work done, he offers you his hand so he can help you up and you thank him yet again when you’re up on wobbly legs. His hand doesn’t leave yours and instead of just telling you where the bathroom is, he guides you to it, kissing you before you can close the door behind you.

It doesn’t take you that long to do everything you have to do in the bathroom, feeling refreshed when you throw some water on your face and pat it dry. You run your fingers through your hair to try and tame it, you bite your bottom lip thinking about him waiting for you in his room and without more time to waste, you’re out of the bathroom and walking back to him.

The first thing you notice when you’re back in his room is that he’s taken the duvet somewhere else, which you expect to be to the wash since you drenched it as you came the last time.

Ross looks at you expectantly, patting the empty side of the bed while lays on his side with his head propped on the palm of his hand.

You giggle at him, raising a brow as you question him, “What? You like cuddles after sex?”

“I do so come here.” He demands lifting the sheets up for you to get under them and you comply. As soon as you come to rest on the mattress, he snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you in so you’re pressed flush against him, turning you around slightly so you can spoon.

A warmth coats your insides and seeps through your pores, and a hum of bliss manages to slip past your lips against your wishes. You like the contrast in his behavior, you find it so fucking sexy that he can get you to oblige to every one of his words during sex but be a sweetheart afterwards.

You’re relishing in the feeling for a bit, your eyes growing heavy when suddenly you remember where you have to go tomorrow morning—or later in the morning, more like since it’s already past one in the morning.

“I have to be home early by the way.” Your words are soft, more like you’re just letting him know instead of a warning.

You feel the way he cranes his neck up as if to look at you over your shoulder, “You’re gonna try to sneak out on me?”

In all honesty, you’re gutted you even promised your sister you’d go to your parents’ house around eleven in the morning so you could go out for brunch to spend the first day of the year around your family, but he doesn’t have to know you’re kinda considering bailing on your family so you shrug, “I might.”

He groans and pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost like he’s trying to cage you and trap you so you don’t go. And it makes you open your eyes to giggle when he doesn’t budge or say anything for a whole minute so you find yourself reiterating, “I mean it when I say I have plans early tomorrow.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say, maybe a ‘Alright, I had fun with you, let’s sleep and you can leave whenever you want but I’m gonna stay asleep.’ or ‘Sure, but let me know before you leave so I know you’ve gone and I can lock the door behind you’, anything along those lines.

However, the words coming out of his mouth are sassy and definitive, “Yeah, you can reschedule that.”

And you’re scoffing at the confidence he has at saying that. It’s hot, you think but god, the nerve.

“Bold of you to assume I wanna.” You play with him. You do want to reschedule, though it’s more leaning towards canceling on your family at this point.

“Would it help if I said please?” He bargains efficiently, a sweetness laced around his words that you know it’s just to get you to twist your arm.

Suddenly, he’s no longer pressed on your back. He hovers over you and without much of a warning, traps you in a needy kiss, almost like he’s pleading for you to do what he’s saying.

One of his legs weaves in the middle of yours and with how he’s leaning into you, his thigh presses on your cunt, the friction of his thigh on your overstimulated clit elicits a moan out of you that he takes as a good sign.

So he pulls back, stealing one last peck from your lips to ask, “Can you reschedule whatever tomorrow morning is? Please?” He puts on his best puppy eyes, a pout forming on his lips and it’s so hard trying not to fold instantly.

You force yourself to appear nonchalant, smirking up at him to challenge him, “Keep this up and I might consider it.”

No more words are needed for him to continue, his next strategy being kissing down your neck onto your collarbone. “Greedy,” He starts saying planting another kiss on your collarbone, “Greedy,” He mumbles against your skin but this time pressing a kiss between your breasts, and he moves to the side slowly, tip of his nose and beard tickling you as he moves, “Girl” He finishes his sentence before biting on the top of your right breast making you gasp.

The moment his teeth leave your skin free, his tongue licks over the bite mark he’s left one you and, weakly, you admit, “Maybe I can reschedule.”

“I can work with a maybe.” He mutters smugly, his tongue flicking on your nipple once, his right hand holding your hip tightly.

You shiver beneath him, your eyes closing as he flicks it once more, “Sure you can.” Your words are laced with sarcasm as you try your best to act cool about it but he’s watching you through his lashes and he’s certainly happy with himself for making you crumble like this so easily.

His hold on your hips loosens up and it slowly inches closer to your core, you’re almost shaking in anticipation at the ghostly touch of his fingers over your mound and you barely hear him say, “I can,” just as he dips a finger inside you.

“Fuck…” You moan in response, feeling his fingers inside you again threatening to have you stupid all over again.

He watches the way your face contorts in pleasure with his lips parting agape, his cock twitching at the sight. He drags his finger slowly in and out of you a few times before curling it inside you, smirking when a loud mewl comes from you and your hands come to grip on his shoulders tightly.

“That good?” He’s taunting you and you know it, and you’re expecting him to continue doing just that. It’s no surprise to you that just to push you further into giving into him, he adds a second finger.

“Oh fuck, Ross.” You breathe out, your nails digging into his back, “Feels so good.” You finally answer, one of your hands coming up the back of his neck to grab at his hair and pull on it.

He hums, continuing to patiently fuck you with his fingers and due to how overly sensitive you still are, that familiar knot has started to tighten in your lower stomach.

You’re practically holding him in place, so he doesn’t even think of pulling away just when you’re about to come but this time, Ross thinks about just having fun with your overstimulation and he wonders how fast you’d cum if he wrapped his lips around your nipples at the same time as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you.

The second he catches your nipple in his mouth, your back arches off the bed, goosebumps breaking on your skin as he sucks on it. It’s dizzying when he lets it go to flick on it with the tip of his tongue and then bites on it mercilessly.

“Ross! Fuck!” You don’t think you’ll last much longer if he continues what he’s doing, and he knows it from how you’re squirming beneath him and the way you’re clenching around his fingers.

So he moves onto your other nipple, repeating the process and it’s that, along with his hand picking up its pace that you convulse under him as you cum yet again tonight.

“Yes, Y/N/N. Just like that, babe.” Your ears barely register him saying sweet nothings into your ear as you come down from you high, his fingers slowly riding you out of it.

Until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing his hand away from you. Ross hears your silent plea to stop and he slowly drags his fingers out of your cunt. You manage to peel your eyes open just when he’s licking his fingers clean, lapping at every drop of your cum on his hand intently.

“Is it rescheduled now?” He asks you as if you’re not completely fucked out again, and he’s so smug seeing you this way, it makes you want to scream.

Yet he’s got you so stupefied that you don’t even find yourself able to keep playing along with him, instead you pant and nod, “It is. It definitely is.”

That’s all he wanted and he lets you know with the shit eating grin he has on his face, along with the sultry, “Good girl.” he offers you as praise.

He kisses you again, almost like a thank you but the meaning is lost on you when you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into his mouth, pulling on his hair once again and this time managing to let his hair fall down freely when you tug off the hairband that kept it in its bun.

Of course, Ross complains, with a groan that you ignore being one to call you out for what you’ve done. But then your hands are both lost in his hair, soft and long strands of jet black hair tangled between your fingers and you pull on it harshly like you’d been dying to do all night.

His groans are like music to your ears, but then you realize what’s just happened again and you pull on his hair, only this time is so that you can break the kiss and scorn him, “You’re such a prick, now I gotta go back to the bathroom.”

You’re too lazy to pick yourself up from the warm bed to clean yourself up again and pee, you roll your eyes just thinking about having to do all that when you’re exhausted after all your activities tonight.

Your complaint falls on deaf ears, since he only focuses on what you’ve called him and he warns you, “Call me that again and you’ll see what happens.”

A scoff is the only answer you given him, before you’re pushing him off you—he doesn’t even budge when you do so, you have to whine and ask him to move with a please added by the end for him to let you go—and going to the bathroom to freshen yourself up yet again.

When you come back, you snort seeing the same thing happen as the first time around but this time you just silently go along with his wishes. He holds you tightly against his front with one of his arms around your waist, one of his legs comes to tangle between yours and he presses a bunch of kisses to the back of your neck before nuzzling into it and willing himself to get some sleep.

“I ain’t quite done with you yet.” Ross whispers against your skin, drinking in your scent.

Your eyes are heavy and his limbs over your body come to feel like a weighted blanket that has you more sleep than awake at this point, yet you still manage to let out a bubbly giggle and you whisper back, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Definitely a promise, love.” He replies breathily, the hair in the back of your neck rises in goosebumps at the prospect of it all and a tingly feeling starts bubbling in your stomach.

You’re not sure what awaits you when you wake up in the morning, but if it’s anything like what’s happened so far then…

It’s a very Happy New Year to you.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: I'm not even sure what to say other than I hope you enjoyed lol. Now I'm off to drown myself in a tub full of holy water to cleanse my soul and repent for days on end, I think you lot should do so too. I'm incredibly excited to see your reactions, they are always so great and they make me giggle and kick my feet. Thanks a million for reading as always my darlings, and I hope you have a lovely week! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @red---moon @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @better--oblivions @kennedy-brooke @faveficz @indierockgirrl @nikisfwn @hereyeswerefilledwiththestars @toomuchracket @llangelsrolltheireyes06ll @megs5678 @theoriginalwhatsername @findmeincorneliastreet @therossmacdonaldeffect @butyou-callmewhenyourebored​ 

#ross macdonald #ross #macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald x yn #ross macdonald oneshot #ross macdonald drabble #ross macdonald blurb #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald the 1975 #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 imagine #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel

[soothinglee]

even if my heart stops beating⏤✰

seungmin x reader | 1.6k✔︎

my notes⎯ hello everyone ! I know it's been a while since I've actually wrote something ! I actually got hit by a bus! yeah I had to sue this company called "writers block" and I finally got a settlement! (also happy new year!) I recently (like a week ago) got into Kpop, specifically Stray Kids ! I've read some fan fictions (shameless) about some of my favorites and got inspo to write one! thank you @soobnny . also I haven't wrote anything in a while so i'm a little rusty, i'll be as good as new soon!

warning⎯ mentions of vomit (used as word vomit) and crying.

genre⎯ angst to comfort.✔︎

songs⎯ six feet under; billie eilish | pretty boy; the neighborhood

the old rusted clock that came with the condo you and seungmin bought sits perched on the top of the fridge. Its old, wooden frame slowly caves in on itself as time goes on.

not even an hour or two ago you had happily entered your home to start cooking dinner, not even worrying about showering first because you were so excited to have dinner with your boyfriend.

even going out of your way to spend a hundred dollars over the amount you usually spend to give seungmin the greatest 'welcome home' feast. he and the rest of stray kids had been on tour for the last couple months, traveling all over the world to perform at concerts and do collaborations with other idols to promote their new albums.

sure, it had been lonely, being by yourself all of the time, the only glimpse of your boyfriend you could get is when he could facetime you for 2 minutes or when he responded back to a text 4 hours later. but you understood, you knew what you were getting yourself into even when you started becoming friends with him.

if anything, you were strong, understanding, and flexible to when he couldn't make it to something like a movie night or date when his plane arrives later or practice runs over.

the only thing now, is that he had promised you that he could make it on time to dinner. sending countless 'I swear ill be there' texts and swift calls ensuring his presences at the dinner table during his dance rehearsals.

but now you were sitting at the table alone. a cold jajangmyeon sits in the platter in front of you, a similar on across the table from you. looking up at that old clock the hour turns to 10 and he's officially 2 hours late. it wasn't unknown for him to run a little over his time but this was unbelievable. you curse yourself for being naive and truly thinking he would keep to his word.

as you get up and clean the meal that you created you feel a little piece inside of you break, watching your hard work spill into the leftover containers like your tears. this was embarrassing, waiting around like a puppy in hopes your owner comes home. you were loyal and hopeful to a fault but wasting time and money like this was just unacceptable.

by the time seungmin walked through the front door it was half pass midnight and you had situated yourself infront of the t.v watching a new drama a colleague from work recommended.

"(name)." he calls out, you hear his shoes hit the wall as he takes them off, and then theres a shuffle as he organizes them on the shoe rack. you hear him leave his keys in the bowl on the desk that was by the front door, his footsteps growing louder as he nears the living room.

"(name)." he calls out again, seeing you lay in a cocoon of blankets in the dark, he think maybe you're sleeping so he quietly discards his winter coat on the back of the couch. he flicks on the lamp on the other side of the couch to bring in some light. though when he comes around to sit down he finds your eyes wide open, "why didn't you answer me when I called?"

"why didn't you come on time like you promised?" you quipped back quietly, suddenly too exhausted to have any conversation with him. you try and sink further into the thick blanket as you watch the Netflix symbol load and the next episodes intro plays.

you can't see his face but when he sighs and shifts in his spot you can hear the hesitance, "you already know why, practice ran late, like always."

"whatever."

"'whatever?' what's going on with you?"

"nothing." your tone is snipped but honestly you couldn't care less. somewhere in your soul you feel as though this might be a little extreme of an reaction but there is only so much patience you can give one person. you constantly make time for him and this relationship, so why couldn't he move things around and do the same for you? your eyes remain on the television.

seungmins eyes dart quickly to the t.v and then back to you, noticing that your full attention isn't on him, so he leans over you and goes to grab the remote from your hands. at the sudden loss of contact you make a move to try and get the remote back from him but he effectively powers down the t.v and discards in on the coffee table.

"I'll only repeat myself so many times, what's going on?"

it was like a newfound energy fizzled at your toes and pushed itself up and towards your head, your body springs up from its sideways position and you angle yourself to face seungmin.

though the light was somewhat dim due to only the lamp being on, he could see the red-rim of your eyes and the dried streaks of tears sticking to your cheeks. obviously, it had been evident that you had been crying.

seungmins eyes soften for a moment, he reaches out to try and smooth out the puffiness of your cheeks but as soon as you see his hand coming you push it away, "you were crying?" it comes out more of a statement than a concerned question, but the worry was still evident in his tone.

"duh," you start, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the tense space, you find comfort in the carpet on the ground. you were feeling...nervous. you didn't want to cause anymore problems but things won't get solved unless they are discussed, which in all honesty, the thought of confrontation in the first place is feared.

you need to get it out, you can't stop living like this. deep down you know he cares but you have to stop going off of assumptions. either he's going to show up or not, it was clear already that you showed up no matter how busy you were.

"do you even still love me?"

the question tumbles from your lips before you could even process what you were saying. maybe it wasn't what you wanted to convey exactly but it was definitely a start.

"what?" his airy voice sounds dumbfounded which makes sense. the intense look you're giving him plus the profound, out-of-the-blue question throws him off guard.

of course he loves you, why would you ever think anything different? "where is this coming from?"

"well it's just that every time we have something planned your work gets in the way. I spend hours and hours getting ready, trying to look my best, just to waste the day sitting on the couch waiting for you to come home. sometimes I'm waiting so long I fall asleep! I put so much effort into being a good girlfriend! hell, I even spent over 100 dollars on dinner tonight because I knew you had a hectic day, it took me two hours to make it just for it to go cold and put into a container,"

your voice chokes up, full of exhaustion and disappointment. you feel the tears pooling in your eyes but have no energy to stop them. you really want to quit the word vomit but there's no point, theres more to be said.

"I try so hard to not get disheartened but it gets so hard when you don't even try. sometimes I feel like you don't even care about this relationship anymore, like you don't care about m-"

just as you were about to finish your words were muffled by hands on your face, and lips on yours. seungmin had kissed you to stop your rambling. you couldn't help but to feel relieved and somewhat offended.

"stop." he whispers as he takes a breath, his hands still on your face, foreheads connecting, "please stop." his voice crack under pressure, its subtle but at the lack of distance between you two you can hear it so well. your eyes are closed, trying to get your own tears at bay but hearing how emotional he's becoming breaks you. a sob teeters at your bottom lip but you force it still.

"don't you ever think that I don't care. I always have." he pauses and wipes the stray tears on your face with his thumbs, "I'm so sorry I've made you feel like this. god I'm such a bad boyfriend, this is my fault."

you try to move away to comfort him but he holds you in place gently, you sniffle and reach up to brush the bangs from his face.

"I promise you I'll be more attentive, ill take you out everyday, spend as much time with you, cook for you, miss practices all the time just to make sure you know I care about you."

"you promised earlier but you didn't come!" you cry, recounting how long you waited.

"I know!" his voice quivers as his hands tremble, lightly shaking your head, "I know...and i'll never forgive myself. you don't know how much you've shaped me into the person I am now and I- I have no clue what I would do without you. I just have a poor way of showing it."

you grip on his wrists, mimicking him with your eyes squeezed shut, you stopped trying to keep the tears in awhile ago, letting them fall freely into your covered lap. "how do I know I can trust you? I'm so sick of feeling like this."

"I promise you I will prioritize you more than anything, Idol life, dancing, singing- whatever, does not come before you. I won't leave you hanging like this anymore, i'm sorry I didn't pay more close attention to your feelings," his bottom lips shakes as he takes another deep breath, he opens his eyes and you can see pass the tears and sorrow a new found determination.

"even if my heart stops beating, you're the only one I need."

past your wary judgement...you believe him...

#seungmin x reader #x reader #seungmin fluff #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #soothinglee #seungmin angst #kim seungmin #skz x you #skz x y/n #idol au #established relationship

[tenpintsofsundrop]

What would Jason Todd be like in bed? (Titans Kink Headcanons)

A/N: These headcanons are based off the Titans version of Jason, and while in the show they didn't mention the Pit giving him any supernatural abilities, it's my headcanon that it did give him some heightened strength and some enhanced healing abilities like it did in other versions - or you could just imagine a different version of Jason while reading this if you want. Also, in this, the reader is intended to be completely gender neutral - I do mention Mommy kink (as in, Jason calling the reader Mommy) but it is my belief that those terms aren't gendered in kink situations, and a woman could be called Daddy and a man or amab person could be called Mommy (obviously, only if you want to be called that - but imo, it's not restricted to gender, and the two terms have very different vibes and uses). Other than that, the main warnings are: mentions of sub/dom dynamics, mentions of faux lactation kink/breast feeding kink (Jason sucking on your tits - again gender neutral imo), strength kink (Jason pinning you down), and pain play/pain kink (mostly toward Jason, but some mentions of it toward the reader).

DC Titans Masterlist

...

Okay - Jason Todd is a fuckboy. That is something that is obvious about his character from the jump. He is the type of guy to use cheesy pick-up lines unironically, he is shameless about dirty talk. He is the type of person to carry condoms absolutely everywhere 'just in case'.

But - I genuinely believe that situationship or friends with benefits Jason would be way, way different than boyfriend Jason. When Jason gets into a serious relationship, he is a whole different guy. (And yeah, it has to do with the foster care thing, commitment issues, he thinks that you are going to pick up and disappear from his life at any time so he doesn't want to get attached. It's a whole thing.)

Fuck Buddy Jason - he is the true definition of a fuckboy.

He flirts with you nonstop, he's constantly making sexual innuendos around you (but he does turn it off around others if you want to keep your relationship discreet/a secret). He's the kind of guy who thinks that it's funny to fake hump you every time you bend over in front of him.

He will take every opportunity to make sleazy comments (you deny that this turns you on because it sounds like his dirty talk). He will mock your moans, be annoyingly cocky (and oh so slightly degrading) and when you get annoyed with him, he will remind you that he is the one fucking you on a regular basis. He tells you that if you hate him being annoying, do something about it. Otherwise, you let him get away with being an annoying asshole and you still 'let him hit it'.

(The 'something' he wants you to do about it is putting him in a submissive role - tying him up, spanking him, generally putting him under your complete control. But we'll get to that in detail later.)

Fuck Buddy Jason is the most infuriating man on earth.

The minute he's done fucking you (giving you the most mind blowing experience of your life) - he will brag right to your face about how hard he made you cum and instantly make you want to strangle him as he is still tying up the condom.

But he's like this because he is trying to emotionally distance himself. He's trying to keep himself from being too vulnerable and catching feelings for the person that he is fucking on a regular basis.

On the other hand: Boyfriend Jason - he is a total puppy.

When Jason officially gets into a relationship with you, there is a very distinct set of changes in him. When he is finally promoted from 'friends with benefits' or 'it's complicated' to officially being your 'you have a drawer in my bedroom' 'you have a key to my place' boyfriend, he turns into a completely different person around you.

He's no longer afraid to be vulnerable around you, and he becomes the 'your bullshit is my bullshit' type of person. He wants everything life has to offer with you. And it changes his attitude in the bedroom as well (but it doesn't really affect his kinks or his skills, just how he plays around with them - but we'll get to that).

Jason becomes a whipped puppy.

He is on your heels all the time, he is completely loving and affectionate. Before, where he used perverted humour and snarky sarcasm to try and deflect his feelings for you or ignore the way he was feeling, now - he just leans into it. He wants to cuddle you 24/7. Any time the two of you are in the same room, he is glued to you like a koala.

And whether he is more submissive or more dominant, ultimately, you rule the relationship, because whatever you say - goes. Jason is wrapped around your little finger. He would move the sun and sky in order to make you happy.

So how does this affect his sex life?

Jason is a switch.

I can't see him being a hard dom or completely submissive to anyone. He likes to play around in both roles, and ultimately, it would depend on where you are in the relationship and what kind of role you want to take on.

When he first gets into a sexual relationship with you, he is naturally more dominant, because he feels that he has to be controlling. He thinks that he has to live up to all of his fuckboy talk in order to impress you. And surprisingly, he would actually impress you. But, if the two of you were involved for a while, he would let you take over the interactions, but only if you were intensely strong willed.

Fuck Buddy Jason in a submissive role is a god damned brat. He will fight you for control every inch of the way, he will be mouthy as hell and talk back to you, challenge your authority, and make you 'punish' him in order to put him in his place. He is fierce and frustrating, and you have to forcefully shut him up - with multiple spankings, a gag, or intense overstimulation (or you could break him with orgasm denial, which Jason doesn't even realize he likes until he has experienced it).

Jason in a relationship? In a more dominant role, he is incredibly soft and caring. He's much more prone to love making - he will automatically fall into a routine of worshipping your body, performing deep, sweet sex, especially with a lot of verbal praise and sweet talk towards you. He loves you and he wants you to know it, and it lights up all of his mental pleasure centers to be able to dedicate his bodily pleasure to you and make you feel good in the process.

If you want him to go harder, it definitely needs to be prompted.

A very easy way to get rough sex out of Dom Boyfriend Jason is to make him jealous.

He is possessive as hell, and seeing you flirt with another guy, especially if it's someone dangerous (a known criminal) - it will make him blow his lid.

But then, in a jealous streak, Jason will fuck you like he hates you and mark you up in an effort to show you just how much he loves you and show you how badly he needs to have you all to himself. Does it partially come from a place of insecurity, worried you might actually leave him someday? Yes. Will he ever admit that aloud? Only during the most tender, quiet pillow talk.

Boyfriend Jason as a sub? Again, he is the most soft puppy ever.

If you're in a long term relationship with him and you're the more dominant type, you will quickly discover that Jason is a needy, cuddly baby. He wants your attention on him all the time, and it only gets worse when you're in the bedroom. He wants complete skin to skin contact, he wants to touch you all the time (even without permission) and whines when he can't, he lives for being called a good boy, he fucking loves cockwarming, and though it's something he would never admit under even the harshest physical torture - he has a Mommy kink.

It's something that slipped out once while he was buried deep inside of you, and you didn't let him live it down. At first, he was intensely embarrassed to call you that. Now he calls you that on a regular basis, and it is something that has become warm and comforting for the both of you.

Now, let's talk more of his general kinks.

He is someone who lives for praise. Whether he is in a dom role or a sub role, he wants to be told that he is doing well. He is fuelled by specific, detailed verbal praise. Despite his cocky demeanor, he's not always the most confident, so he loves the assurance that he is doing well. (Or even just ego boosting compliments about his looks, or being called a good boy does a lot for him.)

And if you tell him that you like something specific and why you like it, then he will do that thing over and over again without prompt every time you have sex just so that he can be praised for it.

He also loves praising you. Jason loves every single thing about you, and he definitely wants you to know it. He could compliment you a thousand times a day (and he will). He will never run out of sweet things to say about your beautiful body, your good looks, your talents, the way you make him feel - so he just keeps the praise coming for you, in and out of the bedroom.

He is not too fussy about oral sex. Despite the fuckboy stereotype, he would rather skip right to penetrative sex than to have his cock sucked. And he does love performing oral sex on you, but not because it's an act he particularly enjoys the feeling of - because he loves being praised for it. He loves the euphoric feeling of your sounds filling up his ears as you cum on his tongue. But again, if he can, he will just skip it and go straight for penetrative sex.

Jason loves deep, slow sex. He loves looking into your eyes while he fucks you hard and deep. He loves full body skin to skin contact while he fucks you. He loves feeling every inch of you while he's deep inside of you, being able to hold you with his arms wrapped around you. He loves the kind of sex that consumes his entire soul (though, before you're in an official relationship, he will absolutely never admit that).

He especially loves cockwarming for this reason - he loves laying on top of you with his cock deep inside of you, surrounded by the warmth of your body and cuddling while he can feel safe and vulnerable with you. (Again, he wouldn't admit this until you're actually dating, and he probably wouldn't actually cockwarm you until you're officially dating for this reason.)

He has an oral fixation - so why wouldn't he love oral sex?

Jason is more into having his mouth full, he loves the fuzzy headed feeling he gets when there is something heavy on his tongue (and for a long time, he wouldn't know to describe this as subspace). It's something that he is only into as a sub. So he loves having his mouth filled with a cock or toys, and it makes him feel fuzzy and subby. It's not the ideal mindset to be performing oral sex. But he does love to suck on fingers or breasts for hours for this same reason.

(And this is where his Mommy kink comes into play again, and he may discover down the road that he has a simulated/faux lacation kink - but idk if I have time to get into that here lmao.) (He just likes sucking on tits, can you blame him. Girltits or boytits, he's not picky.)

Jason is a total painslut. This is one of his kinks that becomes clear very soon into your sexual relationship. Because he spends so much time training and roughing up his body for exercise, he loves the dopamine hit that pain brings in that sense, and it easily translates when it comes to sex.

He loves having his hair pulled, he loves the feeling of sharp nails scratching down his back, he loves having his lips bitten, he loves being slapped (if you were having an argument and slapped him, it would immediately make him rock hard). And as a sub, he loves being spanked, shoved around, and roughed up in all possible ways. He loves the combination of pain and pleasure.

He is more hesitant when it comes to giving pain to a partner, because he is muscular (and especially after the Pit, when his strength is more compact than he's used to). He is afraid of potentially hurting you past your boundaries by mistake. If he ever did that, he would never forgive himself.

But as long as there is a safeword in place and you assure him that you are enjoying yourself (and he has some good aftercare in place) he will spank you, bite you, scratch you - but he likely wouldn't use tools or implements (like a paddle) because he wouldn't want to go to hard and actually damage you. Using his bare hands to spank you gives him better control, and in his opinion, hitting someone with an object is saved for the criminals.

Jason wouldn't be very into bondage as a dom (like, tying you up when you are submissive to him). He much prefers pinning you down and feeling you struggle against him. Even if you train just as hard as him and you're just as strong as him, he prefers to feel the struggle, especially when he makes you cum and you're pleasure-numb and it's a lot harder for you to fight back against his strength. He loves feeling the fight leave your body as you become overstimulated and your muscles become loose.

Post-Pit, with his magically enhanced strength, it's pretty much no competition and he especially doesn't see the need for rope or other bondage equipment then - he will just pin you down to any surface and take you as he pleases.

Jason as a sub - fucking loves bondage. He loves being tied up and restricted, especially when it means handing over total control to you. Control is not something he gives up easily in life. So when he's with you, someone he feels completely safe with, and he is forced to give up control by giving up the movement of his body, it is thrilling for him. When he's forced to just lay there and feel whatever pleasure you give him (or don't give him) - then it puts him in a really relaxed mindset that he barely knew he was capable of.

Jason loves dirty talk. It comes with the fuckboy status. He was dirty talking to you before he even really knew your name, and though you wanted to hate it (because it was kind of out of line?) you loved it because he was cute and somehow got away with it.

As he got to know you better, and got to know your likes and dislikes, his dirty talk got more outlandish and more on point, and now he knows how to turn you on and make electricity shoot through your core with just a single well thought out sentence. (This is what he uses his brilliant vigilante mind for.) He also doesn't reserve dirty talk for the bedroom. He will randomly sneak up behind you in the kitchen and whisper outlandish things in your ear while you're cooking (and cause you to spill things) - he will connect you to a private comms on a mission and tell you all the details of how he plans to fuck you later. He lives to see the reaction he gets out of you with his clever, filthy tongue.

You have learned how to get him back, though - and you know that a well placed pet name or a promise for later can buckle his knees too.

Jason also loves sexting. He loves seeing pictures of you in cute, sexy little outfits, and he is very, very proud of a good dick pic (and of course, keeps a folder of the ones he loves the most of his own) and loves tempting you into sending sexy pictures of yourself that he can save for later - with your permission, of course.

As I said before, he is very into orgasm denial - but only as a sub. He would fold very quickly to begging if you denied him an orgasm. It makes him very narrow minded and focused on 'the goal' and it's very good at shutting out any of the anxiety or noise in his brain, which he loves. Orgasm denial makes him a very obedient sub, very quickly. It is the most effective punishment for him.

However, as a dom, he is very bad at denying you anything - if you pout or give him puppy eyes, he gives in too quickly. He only spanks you because he knows that you technically enjoy it. It's not really that much of a punishment in his mind. He's very bad at 'punishing' you. You do just get whatever you want. The only thing he doesn't really tolerate as a dom is mouthing off/attitude, but that is just a way for you to get what you want - rough sex.

This last one might be weird, but I gotta get it in here somewhere - Jason is very prevalent about condoms. He doesn't have a breeding kink, he doesn't have a creampie kink, he is very adamant about protected sex. He thinks condoms are sexy. Unless you are able to get pregnant and actively trying for a baby (which, for him, would take a lot of convincing past his issues and some therapy) - then he is all condoms, all the time. If you can't biologically get pregnant or if you wanna ditch condoms and use some other form of birth control in a long term relationship with him, he might still wanna use them out of habit or just because it's not as messy. He is a condom guy.

(A/N: Also I just have to say - if Jason doesn't have a kid, he will bring home stray cats like they are Halloween candy. You will randomly have a stray cat in your house every other week and it becomes a problem. (Also if you want me to do general relationship headcanons about these characters, please let me know omg.))

#sundrop writes #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #dc titans #dc fanfiction #dc titans x you #dc titans fanfiction #dc titans x reader #titans #titans fanfiction #titans x reader

[perpetuallyobsessed]

Back in January, @themisterhip gifted me the most wonderful sketch, which i colored in! (Hopefully i did it justice 🙈)

Rrunrun, again, ✨️t h a n k y o u✨️ for thiiiis!!! This is truly one of the nicest and best things someone has ever done for me! I really am ETERNALLY grateful!!!! 🥹

PS pls plspls commission this wonderful person! (I did and got myself something equally as wonderful but im too shy to post it HAHA 🫣😳🙉🙈🙈🙈)

it's my oc (shameless self-insert actually HAHA) with saitama! i imagine Saitama bringing in a patient he just rescued into the ER to be fixed up. ahhhh 🙈 while im at it, i guess it's time to write up some story / hcs for them: > OC works as an ER doc / Emergency med resident for the Hero Association hospital or something > they actually met years ago, back when saitama was still training and working part-time in a convenience store. I'd like to think they were co-workers once. They took the graveyard shift because Saitama got to train in the daytime and OC was juggling another job. > OC was saving up for med school, but opportunity arise when the (then newly formed) Hero Association was looking for scholars to train to be their resident doctors >OC left city Z to take the scholarship program in city A and they kinda didn't see each other til after Saitama got promoted to Class A and moved to city A as well.

#saitama x oc #saitama x reader

[awesomefringey]

https://twitter.com/lwtrryhome/status/1728876904726647213?s=46&t=ibuPFG8TfJGJnUwMT-xXtA i mean.. there was only one pic including F in it and they removed that specifically and it’s just.. wired as always lol.

Honestly, this pisses me off so much.

I get that Daisy’s and Phoebe’s entire social media relevance stems from Louis’ fame. I get that they must use Louis’ name to spark engagement on their accounts in order to sell their endorsement deals. And I get that many of Louis’ fanbase look up to them because they relate to their age and find them beautiful.

But this isn’t the first time they pulled this shit using the kid. Conveniently often so when they got something to promote. They have been playing both sides for years. One would cater to Louies, one would cater to Larries. It’s so frustrating to see that it works so well for them too.

Personally, no matter where you stand with bbg, the shameless exploitation of this boy never sits right with me.

The twins have proven repeatedly that they couldn’t care less about how their ambiguous social media behavior regarding the kid will once again jumpstart the conversation around the credibility of Louis’ fatherhood and whether this boy is an actual family member. They only care to build their influencer brand.

In reference to this:

The Christmas group pics (one with Freddie on it) were removed in Phoebe’s version of the family tree.

#ask #sorry this became a rant #tomlishians