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swordsandholly · 10 days

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Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

3K notes · View notes

smileysuh · 4 months

Text

after the seminar

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. In truth, Wonwoo has been tired. You haven’t fucked since the first night of the seminar, and although that was only two days ago, you’re definitely feeling the loss. On top of that, being wined and dined and looked after always makes you hornier than usual, and Wonwoo has been extra ‘husband’ today. He’s just so perfect. Well-mannered, kind, educated- God, you want him so bad.

tw/cw. sugar daddy Wonwoo, gentleman in the streets/softdom in the sheets, reader doesn't want to make choices, daddy/control kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, holding hands while fucking, implied breeding/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) daddy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.3k

🍭 aus. sugar daddy au, established relationship, fiance!Wonwoo, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know not everyone is into this level of sugar daddy control, but I think there's something to be said about the trust that reader has for Wonwoo. Sometimes I just wanna shut up and let a man do all the work, and today, that man is Wonwoo

Wonwoo’s had few loves in his life. During university, he’d had a love for law, a need to do what was right. In his thirties, he’d found a new soulmate in legislative procedures related to the sustainability and efficiency of whole cities. Finance had been another long-winded lover, and now, on the cusp of forty, Wonwoo’s found the one thing in the world he loves most, you.

Holding your hand while he drives through the city, Wonwoo can’t help but keep some of his attention on you.

Dressed in a tight-fitting red dress he’d bought you for your six-month anniversary in Paris, with your hair and makeup done, you look as stunning as ever. There’s a fat rock on your wedding finger, an engagement ring signifying his loyalty to you, and Wonwoo can’t help himself but play with it a little anytime your hands are linked.

As he makes a turn onto a busy street, the sun practically blinds him, and Wonwoo immediately lets go of you to adjust his visor. You make no movement, so he pulls yours down too, enjoying the way you flash him a small smile and whisper a ‘thank you.’

“You look lost in thought,” he muses, having noted your gaze fixed on the sidewalk trees passing by outside your window. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just thinking about seminar topics,” you admit.

Over the past three days, you’ve accompanied him to multiple talks focused on accessibility, affordability, and green solutions within cities like yours. Tonight marks the last evening of the event, and the two of you are headed to a meet-up with some of Wonwoo’s closest lawyer friends.

Wonwoo loves how diligently you’ve thrown yourself into his work-focused world. Not only do you attend the seminars with him, but you truly make an effort to learn, and that’s never more obvious than when conversing with his colleagues.

Wonwoo’s best friend, Kim Mingyu, has entertained a string of sugar baby relationships, and despite inviting three or four of those women to events like the one you’ve just accompanied Wonwoo to, none of Mingyu’s girls ever took to it the way you do.

You’re one of a kind, and Wonwoo knows how lucky he is to have you.

“I’m sure Seungcheol will have a few things to say about the housing crisis talk,” Wonwoo notes. Choi Seungheol, who had started in law and made the leap to real estate. He now owns half of the new developments being built downtown, and Wonwoo knows this will spur a contentious discussion later.

“He can’t argue with the stats,” you sigh, turning to look at Wonwoo, who threads his fingers with yours again.

“He can try,” Wonwoo smiles softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You return the smile, turning your attention out the window again.

You’re not voicing anything, but Wonwoo can read you like a book. It used to be his job to pay attention to body language, and while he tries to stay humble, people have called him something of a mind reader.

“It’s been an exhausting three days,” he notes. “We don’t have to be out for long tonight, I’m sure we both need our rest.”

“Hansol flies to New York tomorrow morning,” you remind him. “I want you to have as much time with him as you need before he’s gone.”

Your relationship is always something like this, the two of you caring for each other so deeply that you constantly make small concessions. As always, though, the ball is in Wonwoo’s court. He appreciates the way you can feel to him like an intellectual equal while still being submissive in other senses, although he never abuses this power over you.

He’ll keep an eye on you tonight, and when he notices you getting tired, or your energy depleting, he’ll excuse the both of you from drinks and take you back to his place. Then, he’ll take care of you in the ways only he knows how.

You love Wonwoo. You love him for the big things, his character, his good heart- but you love him for the little things too, the way nothing slips past his line of focus. He’s always a hundred percent on and present with you, holding open every door, guiding you by the small of your back, and pulling out your chair first when you join his friends on the top floor restaurant in the most expensive hotel in the city.

“You look amazing,” Mingyu compliments you, flashing you a toothy grin before standing to greet Wonwoo with a hug. “You definitely know how to pick them,” he praises his friend.

“And look at that ring,” Seungcheol has zeroed in on the diamond on your finger, and he reaches across the table to take your hand and get a better look at it. Wonwoo’s eldest friend has always had an eye for luxury, and he studies the oval rock and silver-colored band. “I’d ask if this is sterling,” he muses, “but if I were a betting man, which I am, I’d say it’s white gold.”

Seungcheol lifts his eyes to meet yours, waiting for an affirmative, which you give with a nod. “You know your metals, Mister Choi.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” he lifts your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers, “It’s Seungcheol.”

“Stop flirting with Wonwoo’s girl,” Hansol tuts, pushing at Seungcheol’s shoulder.

The elder man makes a face, brushing off his expensive suit. “Not flirting,” he clarifies. “Although,” his gaze shifts to you again, “if you have any hot friends-”

“Aish,” Wonwoo has rejoined the conversation after greeting Mingyu, and he takes the seat next to you, his arm casually coming around the back of your chair to pull you closer. “What have I told you about asking her for favors?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sungcheol sighs, sitting back and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “She’s one in a million, aren’t ya, little miss future Jeon to be?”

“Try one in a billion,” Wonwoo corrects, hand finding your thigh now that he’s pulled you close enough. “Have you three ordered drinks yet?”

“We were waiting on you,” Mingyu says, handing Wonwoo a cocktail menu, which he settles between you both so you can also read it. “Their margaritas are pretty good.”

You quickly find a drink you’d like to try, and you wordlessly reach out a manicured nail to tap on it. Wonwoo follows your motion, giving a curt nod, then he leans in to press his lips to your cheek. He waves down the waiter a moment later, and orders you your drink, sparing you the socialization.

This is yet another one of those little things Wonwoo does for you that you find incredibly sexy, and you tuck closer to him, placing your hand over his own on your thigh.

“We should talk about the elephant in the room,” Mingyu sighs, drawing all eyes. You have no idea what he’s about to say, and then he hits the four of you with, “Cheol, you have to admit your new high rises aren’t sustainable or affordable.”

“They’re called luxury suits for a reason,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I’m not in the business of affordable housing.”

Wonwoo grins next to you, looking down and squeezing your hand gently. It’s funny how amusing he finds this whole thing.

“Don’t smirk like that, Woo,” Seungcheol tuts. “As if you didn’t do a walk-through of a penthouse suite in my new highrise last week.”

This is news to you, and you turn to look at your boyfriend. You’re generally not one to question him, and luckily you don’t have to, because Kim Mingyu is just as nosey as you’d sometimes like to be. “You checked out a penthouse? I thought you loved your apartment?”

“I’ve had it for years,” Wonwoo says, and you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “However, I can admit that the amenities at Cheol’s new builds are quite impressive.”

“Amenities,” Seungcheol scoffs. “As if that’s what you were actually interested in.”

The two powerful men share a look, and it’s a battle of wills that makes your heart thump loudly in your chest.

What was Wonwoo interested in?

He’s never talked to you about moving, and you’ve been living with him for nearly a year. Besides, Mingyu’s right, Wonwoo adores his apartment. He’s had it forever and it’s decorated exactly the way he likes it. Your bedroom is a lovely corner location with views of the whole city, and his home office is a sanctuary you’ve loved to desecrate.

“We’ll talk about this more another time,” Wonwoo says finally, looking up as your waiter appears with a tray of drinks.

Your cocktail is set in front of Wonwoo, and he gently pushes it toward you before reaching down to give your thigh a squeeze under the table. He picks up his Old Fashioned with his free hand, and Seungcheol raises his own glass in a toast. “To friends and new engagements!”

Seungcheol nods to you before taking a sip of his scotch, and it fills your body with heat to know his friends truly respect and like you. They’re happy to have you joining as a permanent member of their social sphere.

You place your hand on top of Wonwoo’s as you bring your cocktail to your lips.

The discussion moves to details about sustainability, and the men at the table trade opinions on the seminars. Mingyu is fast in his manner of speaking, always intent to prove his point. Cheol is loud and boisterous, scoffing at opinions that don’t align with his own. Hansol is often quiet, but he makes good notes ever so often, and they make the whole table sit and think. And your Wonwoo is as calm and judicial as always, listening to his friends with a contemplative expression even while his thumb draws small circles on your thigh.

You give your own two cents a few times, and your musings are always the most well-received. None of the men at the table are about to pick a fight with you, and they’re attentive whenever you open your mouth, nodding and making one or two comments before getting heated with each other again.

The waiter comes and Seungcheol orders a few appetizers while Wonwoo opens the menu for you. When Wonwoo begins to list three of his own items, you tap your finger on the one you’d like most and he voices that as well.

God, how you love the fact that you only have to lift one little finger with Wonwoo while he does the rest. You really aren’t in a super talkative mood, especially when it comes to mundane tasks like ordering food and drinks. You save your voice to join in on the intellectual conversation taking place, and you prefer things this way.

Seungcheol and Wonwoo begin to argue over rezoning laws, and Hansol turns toward you, leaning closer. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he smiles.

“Thank you,” you grin back.

“Have you guys talked about wedding plans yet?”

Out of all the people in the world, you didn’t think Chwe Hansol would be one of the first to ask you about wedding details.

“We’re thinking destination,” you admit.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Hansol laughs. “And an expensive honeymoon too I bet.”

“Of course,” you grin, playing with the stem of your cocktail glass. “Although, if I’m being honest…” you lean closer to Hansol, lowering your voice while Wonwoo and Seungcheol continue to argue, “as much as I like the lifestyle I have with Wonwoo, you know I’m happy just to be with him.”

“But the expensive trips are a bonus I bet,” Hansol grins.

“I mean… would you say no to a trip to the Maldives?”

Wonwoo’s friend shakes his head, still smiling. “Never.”

“When are you going to find someone?” you ask. Out of all of Wonwoo’s close friends, Hansol is the most level-headed. He’s stable, and kind, and if you weren’t so into Wonwoo, you’d even admit Hansol is quite handsome in his own way.

“Someday,” Hansol sighs. “Maybe you’ll have cute bridesmaids at your wedding.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” you assure him.

Hansol laughs. “I’d appreciate that.”

Food begins to arrive at the table, and you sit up straight again, tucking close to Wonwoo. He’s done this thing, ever since your first date, where he helps plate food for you, and for some reason, it’s always been a huge turn-on.

You like getting baby girl treatment, and you watch Wonwoo with a grin while he cuts through some carpaccio and sets up a piece for you. He makes sure to get a little bit of everything on your plate before putting anything on his own, and his friends are already digging in by the time he’s gotten the both of you settled.

“Do you want anything else?” he asks, always the type to be certain he’s pleased you.

“This looks perfect,” you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, lingering by his ear so he’s the only one who can hear you when you say, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Wonwoo reaches down and squeezes your thigh, the only sign you have that your words have done something to him. He’s not the type to be big on PDA, and it’s the little things like a constant touch, or acts of service, that remind you he loves you as much as you love him.

You wait for Wonwoo to lift a carpaccio bread spread to his lips before you reach for your own, mirroring his motions so you can experience the food together.

You hadn’t been a carpaccio fan before meeting Wonwoo, but he’s expanded your pallet in the time you’ve known him, and you’re extremely thankful for this opportunity - as well as others - that he’s provided for you.

“Look at you two loved-up foodies,” Seungcheol sighs from across the table, watching you with eyes trained to assess.

Wonwoo only grins, reaching for his drink to take a sip. You follow that motion too, smirking over the rim of your glass before downcasting your eyes.

There’s no need to respond to Seuncheol’s comment because it’s an apt description of the pair of you.

“Stop being jealous,” Mingyu grins, reaching out to push at Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“Never going to happen,” Seungcheol retorts.

You know he’s in the market for a sugar baby, and Wonwoo’s told you how often Seungcheol brings you up when you’re not around. Apparently, his eldest friend is adamant that you’re one of the most perfect sugar babies he’s ever seen, and you wonder if maybe you should try to hook him up with one of your friends at the wedding. Give Cheol the Hansol treatment. However, in contrast to Hansol’s laid-back expectations, you’d have to give your Cheol-intended friend a cheat sheet booklet on how to please a rich man.

“Just watch,” Seungcheol continues, “these two are going to sneak off early and go to the bathroom or something. They’re sitting much too close together, and we’ve all noticed Wonwoo’s hand under the table.”

To show his innocence, Wonwoo lifts the hand in question. “We’re not doing anything,” he assures his friends calmly. “Although… unfortunately, we will have to leave early after appetizers.”

This is news to you, and you look at Wonwoo for further clarification, which he gives when pressed by Seungcheol.

“It’s been a long seminar,” Wonwoo explains, letting out a sigh of exhaustion. “I’d say Honey needs her beauty rest, but I think we all know I’m not so nice when I’ve been sleep deprived.”

You love it when he calls you Honey, in fact, he uses that name for you more than your legal one.

Seungcheol lets out a groan, but he doesn’t push further, because Wonwoo’s excuse is true. He’s never been rude to you when tired, but he definitely has a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude when he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.

“We’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning,” Mingyu agrees. “Maybe I should get another drink and call it a night too.”

“Come on Gyu,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I’ll let these two ditch, but this is Hansol’s last night in the city, I thought we could go to a roof on one of my new waterfront builds and hit some golf balls at the sea.”

“Right, because that’s very environmentally friendly,” Wonwoo tuts.

“Jesus, you are tired, aren’t you?” Seungcheol laughs.

It’s a rhetorical question, and Wonwoo simply lifts another appetizer to his mouth, chewing with a tight-lipped grin.

In truth, Wonwoo has been tired. You haven’t fucked since the first night of the seminar, and although that was only two days ago, you’re definitely feeling the loss. On top of that, being wined and dined and looked after always makes you hornier than usual, and Wonwoo has been extra ‘husband’ today.

He’s just so perfect. Well-mannered, kind, educated-

God, you want him so bad.

You take a sip of your cocktail again before resting your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh, and he stops what he’s doing to look down at your fingers toying with his pants. Then his gaze rises to you, and he cocks his head slightly, obviously a little stunned by how forward you’re being tonight.

It’s such a small motion, but it speaks volumes, and when paired with a small flutter of your lashes, Wonwoo reads you like he reads the books in his impressive office library.

Part of you wants to toy with him, wants to tease your touch up to his crotch just to see if you can get him hard at dinner with his friends, but you know that would lead to something akin to consequence.

As easy as it is for Wonwoo to read you, he’s not such an open book and his reactions vary drastically. You don’t want to push your luck today, not after you’ve been such a good girl for him for three seminars straight.

You remove your hand before playing with fire gets you burned, and the two of you continue to finish your appetizers. Each bite is one step closer to leaving with Wonwoo, but you try to take your time, try not to be too glutenous to make way for lust.

Wonwoo finished eating and he lifts his drink with his left hand, his right palm finding your thigh again. His touch is soothing, gentle, but it still stirs a fire within you.

You shift your knee, letting it rest against his, and you sip your cocktail trying to pay attention to what Mingyu’s saying about the stock market.

Wonwoo is generally quite the stocks man. He pays attention to Mingyu, but you can tell his focus is still partially on you, and you reach down to play with his fingers, enjoying how pretty his hands are.

You need him so badly.

That’s when you realize Wonwoo has almost finished his drink, and you quickly grab at yours too, wanting to reach the bottom of your own cup.

You’ve not been drinking since the seminar started, and the booze in your cocktail definitely heightens your senses. An electric tingle consumes your form, and it’s getting harder to ignore the panties sticking to your core.

The conversation reaches a lull, and Wonwoo lets out a sigh, squeezing your legs. “Well, it’s been fun,” he says, “but Honey and I should get going.”

“One more drink,” Seungcheol practically begs, already lifting a hand to call over a waiter.

“Not tonight,” Wonwoo says, soft but firm.

He stands up first, grabbing your hand to help you out of your own seat. “Good luck with your flight tomorrow, Hansol,” he nods to the man on your right.

“Good luck with wedding planning,” Hansol retorts, rising from his chair to pull you and Wonwoo into a hug.

Hansol’s not usually a touchy guy, and the hug means something. It’s a true acceptance that you’re permanently a part of Wonwoo’s life, and it means the world to you.

“Now I want a hug,” Mingyu also stands, holding out his arms for you and Wonwoo.

With a laugh, your fiance’s hand finds the small of your back and he guides you into Mingyu’s warm embrace, trapping you between their large bodies.

Now you’re really turned on.

Seungcheol doesn’t stand, he simply watches, lips all pouty. “Let me know about that penthouse,” he muses. “I’ve got some foreign buyers already wanting a walk through and I won’t hold it forever.”

“I’ll get back to you,” Wonwoo promises, giving one last nod to Seungcheol before he begins to guide you out of the restaurant.

As you make it to the front desk, Wonwoo stops and addresses the staff member there. “I’m going to take care of my table’s bill tonight.”

“I’ll put it on your tab, Mr. Jeon.” She nods, typing something into the ipad infront of her.

“That was kind of you,” you muse as Wonwoo escorts you into the elevator that will lead to the underground where his expensive Mercedes is parked.

“We’re leaving early, it’s the least I could do.”

“You know… I hope we didn’t leave on my account,” you say, thinking about the conversation you’d had in the car earlier.

Wonwoo leans down close to you, grinning. “I can safely say we left due to my own personal needs, although they’re not sleep-related.”

“You really like this dress, don’t you, Daddy?” you smile, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck while his hands settle on your hips.

“I like what’s under it,” he retorts, which is a cheeky response by Wonwoo’s standards.

“Been missing my body, haven’t you?”

“More than you realize.”

Wonwoo had kept his composure on the drive home. He’d even kept his hands mostly to himself on the way up to your apartment, but your stoic lover is on you the moment the door to your home is closed behind you both.

He presses you up against the wall, grabbing your waist and tugging you close while simultaneously blocking you up against the hard surface at your back. His lips are hot against your own, his tongue invading your mouth and making you giggle as you grab the front of his shirt, already popping buttons open.

You release a moan when he reaches down and cups your core, pushing up your dress to access your lacey panties. “Where do you want it, honey?” he asks, biting at your lip.

“I don’t want to think tonight,” you admit, tired from days of brain power.

You love that Wonwoo likes to check in with you. He’s not the type to simply throw you over a kitchen counter and rail you when you might prefer the bed or even the shower- but at the same time, as soon as you give him full control, Wonwoo’s very good at taking charge.

“I’ll take care of you,” Wonwoo promises, pushing your panties to the side so he can slide two fingers against your heated core. You can feel how wet you are, and the contact against your clit has you whining, grabbing his face to bring his mouth to yours again while he pushes two digits knuckle deep into your aching core.

You’re sensitive from a few days without being touched, and it feels like heaven to have Wonwoo worshipping you like this again. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he draws his mouth down to your jaw then your throat, peppering your skin in kisses that have you shivering with pleasure.

“Daddy-” you whimper, your hips thrusting toward his hand as he works you open, palming your clit with delicious pressure.

“I know, Honey, I know,” he soothes, and between gasped breaths and moans, you can hear your pussy squelching already.

It’s getting harder and harder to stand on your shaky legs, your heels not meant for standing sex or heavy petting like this. But it’s also clear to you that Wonwoo has no intention of stopping his motions until you’ve cum on his fingers, so you do your best to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself while that wonderful feeling builds in the pit of your stomach.

“I’ve missed this pussy,” Wonwoo tells you, voice low. It’s not often that he uses vulgarity, even in the bedroom, and his words betray how much he truly needs you. Your skin tingles with excitement, pussy throbbing, heart thundering in your chest-

It’s crazy how one sentence can nearly shortcircuit your brain when paired with Wonwoo using his hands like this- stroking the parts of you that he knows better than anyone else in the world.

Your fiance has taken his sweet time getting to know your body, and it shows in moments like these.

“I’m so close-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders. You should care about his expensive suit jacket, but you don’t- all that matters is the orgasm you’re desperately chasing, hips moving to ride Wonwoo’s hand while his unrelenting fingers get you closer and closer to the edge-

“Come on, honey,” Wonwoo grins, mouth returning to the spot on your neck that always makes you go feral, “cum for me.”

One more rough thrust with his fingers has you moaning, tumbling past the edge as your orgasm overtakes you.

If you’d nearly been falling over before this, you almost crumple to the floor with all the pleasure coursing through you now. Wonwoo’s free arm loops around your waist, and he presses you closer to the wall, keeping you propped up while his hand continues between your shaking thighs.

He releases a low groan, and you can feel his cock pressing through his pants by your hip. You feel delirious already, body pulsing, skin tingling. Wonwoo’s broad shoulders are your lifeline, and you grip them desperately, taking everything he has to give you like the good girl you are.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, seeking out his lips, cupping his face to draw him closer. His tongue glides against your own, and you’re enough of a distraction that his fingers begin to slow inside of you.

Finally, he pulls his hand away from between your thighs, dragging his lips from yours so he can sink his digits into his mouth. You watch him lick them clean, listening to the groan of satisfaction that escapes him while you do your best to catch your breath.

“You’re always so good for me,” Wonwoo tells you, lifting his gaze to yours again.

You swallow thickly, mind swimming, searching for a response. “You deserve it,” you assure him finally.

“And I know what you deserve tonight,” he retorts.

In one quick motion, he lifts you up bridal style. One of your stilettos crashes to the floor from the sudden way your body has just been swung like a rag doll, but neither of you care as Wonwoo carries you through the apartment toward the bedroom.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. Wonwoo always makes you feel like a princess, and he looks like a classic prince while doing it. His side profile is so regal- all sharp bones and pretty lips. God- how did you ever get this lucky?

When you get to your destination, Wonwoo is gentle when he sets you onto the mattress. He straightens and looks down at your form, letting out a deep breath.

“Can you take that pretty dress off for me, honey?” he asks, already shrugging off his suit jacket and setting it over a chair nearby.

“Of course, daddy,” you grin, reaching down to grab at the hem of the silky outfit, dragging it up your thigh.

His eyes are glued to you even as he works on his cuff links, and you take your sweet time as he makes it to the buttons of his shirt. The dress has a corset style back, and you tug on the ribbon before slowly working it open.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, but you can see his breathing pick up as the fabric gets less tight on your chest, revealing more and more of your bralessness.

When he makes it to his pants, you remove the dress, leaving you in nothing but your thong, which is soaked through.

Your fiance swallows thickly. “Panties too, honey. I don’t think I have the patience to wait any longer tonight.”

His lack of patience is clear in the way his cock slaps up against his abdomen, released by the pants now pooled by his feet.

Wonwoo looks like a fucking God, especially while naked. He’s lean but muscled, and you’ve spent hours tracing each ridge and bone. His cock is an impressive length of around seven inches, it’s pale like the rest of him, but when he’s really turned on, it flushes in colour.

Right now, his cock is a pinkish red, and you can see the angry tip already leaking desperately.

You stand up, sneaking a kiss to his lips while hooking your fingers in your panties. Pushing them down, you get onto your knees.

“Honey, you don’t have to-”

“Maybe I’m impatient too, have you ever thought of that, daddy?” you ask, grabbing the base of his length and leaning forward to kitten lick the tip.

Wonwoo releases a low groan, reaching down to thread his fingers through your hair.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmur, enjoying the way he reacts when you kiss his cock gently. “Missed the weight of you in my mouth.”

“Fuck-”

It’s not often that Wonwoo curses, and the word goes straight to your core.

“Can I touch myself while I suck you off, daddy?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” he admits. “I want you dripping when I finally pull you off my cock and fuck you the way you like it.”

You whimper, your whole body alight with energy as you take him into your mouth. You’re already practically drooling from his fingers earlier and the dirty talk now, which makes it easy to coat him in spit.

You’ve never been able to take all of Wonwoo in your mouth, but you do your best, gripping the base and bobbing your head while you begin to toy with your clit.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Wonwoo groans, taking a deep breath as his hand guides you on his cock. “Always so good for me.”

The praise only makes you suck on him harder. You sink so far down onto him that his tip hits the back of your throat. You feel yourself constrict around him and Wonwoo lets out a loud moan, fingers flexing in your hair.

“Careful, honey, I don’t want you to choke,” he tells you, but his voice has lost it’s usual commanding tone. He’ll let you do anything you want to him, even if it means gagging on cock- but he’ll do his best to be gentle with you verbally at least.

You get lost in the feeling of pleasuring him, closing your eyes and letting your mouth show him how much you’ve missed him… however, not in so many words.

Actions speak volumes, especially in this case.

You continue working on your pussy too, eventually slipping two fingers into your wet core, which makes you moan around Wonwoo’s cock.

“Honey-” he groans.

You can tell that he’s on the verge of breaking, so you pull off his length, looking up at him while catching your breath. “Ready to fuck me now, daddy?”

“I’ve been ready all night,” he grins, reaching down to grab your hand and help you to your feet.

He kisses you then, cupping your face and leaning forward, taking your breath away all over again. His palm flatens against the small of your back and he dips you backward- then you’re falling, a small squeal escaping you-

The fall is only an inch or two, and you hit the mattress, Wonwoo bearing down on your form almost immediately. You grab at his shoulders as his lips find yours, your legs wrapping around his lean hips to tug him closer.

His cock is still wet with your spit, and it rubs deliciously through your soaked folds, bumping your clit and making you moan into the kiss.

As impatient as Wonwoo seemed to be, he’s not quick to adjust himself against you- or at least, not quick enough for your liking, so you reach between your bodies and grab his cock, lining him up with your wet hole.

Wonwoo grins against your lips, and in one motion, he sinks into your core.

You moan loudly, digging your nails into his strong shoulders and throwing your head back as he fills you perfectly, stretching out your walls.

Your fiance takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, finding your sweet spot.

He feels like heaven- you’re really not sure how long you’ll be able to last tonight, but that’s never mattered with Wonwoo. You have forever with this man, which means you can be as fast or slow as you’d like to be.

He begins to thrust in and out of your core, and it makes you cry out again, walls contracting around his cock. You can feel him so deeply, especially as he adjusts your legs, pushing your thighs closer to your chest.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, not a care in the world for using a ‘correct’ title. Your fiance might enjoy the daddy kink, but he’s never been the type to punish you for slipping up and calling him something different.

It’s clear to both of you how far gone you are, and Wonwoo only grins against your throat, picking up his pace.

“How about you rub your clit for me, honey?” he asks.

You’re not one to question him, and your hand slips between your bodies to seak out the sensitive nub. More sounds of pleasure escape you as you begin to rub yourself, and your moans only push Wonwoo to fuck you harder.

Each thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, and it’s making you delirious.

Wonwoo finds your free hand, threading your fingers and using you as leverage as he presses you against the mattress. His breath is hot on your throat, but soon he’s seaking out your lips again, and you eagerly kiss him as if your life depends on it.

There’s an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, spurred on by your fingers on your clit and the cock filling you up with each rough thrust.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to check in on you, and you don’t need to tell him you’re close, you’re certain he can tell. He tightens his grip on your hand, a silent invitation to let go whenever you want.

Each drag of his cock against your inner walls draws you closer and closer to the edge, and when he breaks the kiss to lick your throat, it allows you to focus entirely on the pleasure between your legs.

“Fuck, daddy-” you whimper, back arching as you shift below him.

“I know, honey,” he groans. “Me too.”

“Yeah?” Your body jitters with near orgasmic bliss. “Can you cum with me?”

“Of course, just tell me when.”

“Please-” you moan, writhing against the sheets as he fucks you even harder. “Please, daddy- I want you to fill me up-”

Wonwoo groans, teeth dragging by the sensitive skin of your throat.

“Please, please- fuck, I’m almost there-” you rub your clit harder, body tensing on the precipice of your orgasm-

“Shit,” Wonwoo tightens his grip on your hand to the point where it almost hurts- and even though he doesn’t say it, it’s clear to you that he’s reached his own high.

The thought that Wonwoo is so turned on he’s just cum before you - something that never happens - is enough to drag you over the edge, your core clamping down on his cock, eager to milk him for everything he’s worth while you cry out in ecstasy.

He’s gasping against your throat, thrusts even deeper now- slow, steady little ruts as he coats your insides with him cum, filling you up perfectly.

You get lost in the feeling of him, squeezing his hand back as a silent encouragement while your pussy continues to squeeze his cock, eager to get every last drop.

When he finally comes to a stop, he simply lays on top of you for a moment, the both of you breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I’ve just remembered-” you pull your hand away from your clit, instead moving to stroke his hair, “What did Seungcheol mean about the penthouse you were looking at?”

Wonwoo lets out a small chuckle. “Do you really want me to spoil the surprise?”

“Yes, please.”

Your fiance pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. “I’ve been thinking we might need a bigger place… one that could accommodate a few extra rooms.”

“Extra rooms?” you cock a brow.

“For any kids we might have, you know, after we’re married.”

Your entire body tingles with excitement.

While the two of you have talked about children in a general manner before, nothing has ever been set in stone. But you suppose now that you’re engaged, it’s natural this sort of thing would be on Wonwoo’s mind.

“How do you feel about that?” Wonwoo asks.

“I feel like…” you swallow thickly, “I want you to fill me up again, and also that I should book a doctor's appointment to discuss going off birth control.”

“I can definitely help you with that first one,” Wonwoo grins, pressing chaste kisses all across your face while you giggle and hold him tighter.

“We’re really doing this,” you whisper.

Wonwoo’s thumb brushes by the ring on your wedding finger. “Honey, I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm in love with Wonwoo what the hell

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🔮 preview. You pull away just as his lips are about to meet yours. “You know how appreciative I am whenever daddy gets me a present,” you say, acting innocent. This only makes him laugh, and he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You know buying things for you does the same thing to Wonwoo that it does to you. He loves seeing the excitement in your eyes, the way you light up at gifts. He truly lives to provide for you.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, mentions of breeding kink/wanting to get reader pregnant, sugar daddy Wonwoo, daddy kink, soft dom!Wonwoo, oral, pussy eating, fingering, breif edging, squirting, groping, sickly sweet loved up sex, crying during sex cuz reader is so in love, mentions of pain kink, hair pulling, teasing, dirty talk, fucking on a kitchen counter, Wonwoo talks about reader getting ‘plump’ with pregnancy, he adores the ‘soft bits’, etc. I petnames. (hers) honey (his) daddy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

“Can I take this off yet?” you ask, wobbling in your heels as you grab at the silk blindfold blocking your vision.

“Be patient, honey,” Wonwoo breathes in your ear, his hands firm on your hips as he guides you to whatever surprise destination he has in store for you tonight.

Christmas is a week away, and the last time he blindfolded you like this was for your birthday. He’d taken you to a Mercedes dealership to let you choose any car you wanted. You have no clue what he has in store for you now, and you’re practically shaking with excitement.

You know he’s driven you somewhere, and you’ve been in an elevator, so it must not be another car- your list of gift possibilities is somewhat thin. You have a hunch, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself just in case you’re wrong about where your fiance is leading you.

Wonwoo’s lips find your throat, and his hands stop you in your tracks. His breath is hot by your ear a moment later, and he lets out something like a contented sigh. “Okay. Let me help you take this off.”

His deft fingers work at the loose knot behind your head; soon the blindfold slips away.

Your eyes adjust to the light, and you blink while taking in the space in front of you. You’re in a large open-concept kitchen, a living room sprawled in front of you with views of the whole city. The decor is lavish luxury, and you recognize the design concept as a Choi Seungcheol special when you notice a specific lighting fixture that Cheol puts in all his expensive builds.

“Wonwoo-” you breathe, mind spinning.

The man behind you flattens his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your frame while he rests his head on your shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“Is this…”

“It’s ours,” your fiance confirms. “I wanted to show it to you on Christmas day, but I couldn’t help myself.”

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#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #svthub #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #sugar daddy wonwoo #sugar daddy svt #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader smut

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kiss-inthekitchen · 1 month

Text

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him.

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone.

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet.

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum.

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?”

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.”

“Yeah.”

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do.

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics.

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice.

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.”

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.”

“But I think I should be right more often than that.”

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock.

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.”

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?”

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?”

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.”

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while.

“Spence?”

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door.

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.”

“I’m already inside with the door locked.”

“Man, I’m good.”

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already.

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.”

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.”

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.”

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice.

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic.

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does.

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster.

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.”

You laugh. “For the whole day?”

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.”

“Okay, rest day all day.”

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.”

“Maybe the floor.”

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?”

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.”

“Say no more.”

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.”

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?”

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.”

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.”

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke.

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.”

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?”

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.”

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.”

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates.

You let out a little gremlin laugh.

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone.

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’.

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs.

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.”

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’”

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.”

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part.

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.”

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.”

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.”

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.”

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird.

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him.

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice.

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh.

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it.

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes.

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.”

“We did.”

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy.

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him.

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters.

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #my fics #your honor im obsessed with him

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honeybeedrabble · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 13: Size - Tutor!Miguel x AFAB!Reader 🎃

can you tell i hate my math class this sem ?? :D

CW: unspecified age gap (reader is in college miguel is in grad school), trauma inducing stats vocabulary, piv (unprotected don’t be stupid), creampie (don’t be stupid), mean miguel, harsh grabbing, fingering (kinda), finger sucking, general size difference.

18+ MDNI

It was getting late, you and your roommates Machi and Gale having dinner with you. You huffed, slumping in the chair you sat on.

“This is such bullshit, I’ve been stuck on this problem for like half an hour already. Nothing’s clicking.” You pushed your dinner aside and looked at Gale for reassurance. She tilted her head at you with a raised brow.

“Girl, you know damn well I’m not getting it either. Just call it quits for tonight, it's not due for another two days.” She said, sipping a chilled can of coke.

“Oh, come on. Neither of us are understanding this shit. I mean, this symbol looks like a backwards three! I miss when math used to just have numbers,” you complained, squinting at the statistics homework in front of you.

“That looks ridiculous,” Machi laughed. “Never have I been more glad to be an arts major.” She said, getting up to put her dish away.

“If it bothers you that much, why don’t you just visit the tutoring lab? I think they’re still open.” Gale said, grabbing your dish and following Machi to the sink.

“Really?” You asked, checking your watch. 8 pm.

“Hey, we pay thousands of dollars in tuition, okay? If they can’t stay open or help when students need it what's the point in taking all that money from us?” Gale shrugged. You sighed, standing up from your chair.

“Well, I guess I better get moving if I want to make it to the tutoring center before 10. Let me know if you guys need anything while I’m out.” You grabbed your keys and left the apartment after grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes back on.

_____________________________________________________

You arrived at the building, glass doors sliding open as you walked through them, the cold air conditioning giving you goosebumps. You walked over to the sign in sheet, looking through available tutors for the next hour or so.

“Crap…” You sighed, looking through the sheets. It seemed like you needed an appointment before hand, at least electronically.

There was the sound of laughter down the hall, you turned your head towards the sound. There was a much larger man along with a guy who seemed about your age. You recognized the shorter individual from your statistics class.

“Well, I’m glad we could get your problem figured out.” The tall man said, a big hand patting the younger guy's back heavily.

“Yeah, it only took us all night.” More laughter.

“Hey, if its due in two days all night is nothing.” The tall, tanned man said. He was massive, you could practically see his muscles bulging underneath his white buttoned shirt. His chocolate hair slicked back, a few strands messily framing his face. You were in a trance when his almost red eyes met yours. You felt your face flush.

“U-Uh, Hey! You’re in my statistics class arent you?” You asked the shorter guy, desperately avoiding the older mans gaze. The shorter guy said your name questioningly, you nodded.

“Yeah, thats me.” You said, clutching your bag tighter. “So… you got help with the homework?” You asked, motioning to the taller man.

“Oh yeah, this is Miguel.” He said, patting Miguels back.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You said, grabbing his large hand and shaking it. You felt your palms become sweatier, his hand practically enveloping yours. “I didn’t see your name under the statistics sign up sheet.” You said, voice almost trembling.

“Well as a grad student my major is scientific research so that's why I’m not under statistics.” He said, a slight smirk across his face, his grip on your hand becoming tighter.

“O-oh,” you said softly.

“But I use statistics in almost everything I do, so I can help out with any problems you’ve got if you need it.”

“Miguel’s not a bad tutor, it only took us so long to finish cause I haven’t shown up to class in weeks.” Your classmate laughed. “I’ve got to get out of here but thanks for your help, man.” He waved before walking out the sliding doors into the dark night.

You and Miguel turned to each other, you suddenly felt very nervous.

“So… Would you… tutor me?” You asked, rubbing your arms for warmth.

“Well, it's not quite 10 yet and I don’t have any other sign-ups, so why not?” He shrugged, walking down the hall with you following after him.

You two walked down the hall, reaching a small study room at the end of it.

“This is the room I reserved for the night, so don’t worry about anyone coming in here super late and trying to steal it from us.” He said, opening it up for you to walk through.

You walked into the room, a table with a few chairs in the center with a whiteboard behind it. It seemed fine to you as you walked in, sitting down on a chair, slightly taken aback when it rolled underneath your weight. You looked down and noticed wheels at the feet of the chair. You looked up again when you heard the door shut, Miguel locking it behind him.

_______________________________________________

“And that's why your z score is going to be 20.99. Does that make sense?” He asked. You were fucked.

The whole time you were supposed to be paying attention you were completely distracted by his being. He sat next to you, his large frame practically caging you in between him and the desk. He was everywhere, and if you weren’t staring directly at the paper, you were scared you were going to faint. You nodded, eyes looking down at the problem, refusing to tear away from the mathematical mess you made.

“Yeah…”

“Then tell me how you got it.” He said, deep voice rumbling in his big chest.

“Well, first you uh…” You circled a random number in the world problem then looked up at him with helpless eyes. He raised a brow.

“You start with the standard deviation?” He asked, clearly unamused.

“Well… You definitely use it somewhere…” You said half joking. Miguel was still unamused. He sighed deeply, throwing his head into his hand.

“I’ll explain it one more time, okay?” He said, grabbing the pencil from your hand. His hand brushed against yours and held your pencil as if it were a toothpick to him. “So, we’ve identified the mew, right?” He asked, underlining the foreign symbol.

“Yeah…” You said, asking yourself what the fuck is a mew?

You were determined to stay focused but that man made it difficult. You turned to look at him while his eyes were fixed onto the paper, scribbling out equations and typing into your calculator- which he also made look puny in his grasp. You watched him as he spoke, the way his soft lips moved as he talked, revealing sharp canines every now and then between words. You felt your face flush, entranced by his presence. You eyed his large shoulders, following them down to his massive arms. You looked back up at his face, admiring his features while he was so deep in thought. He looked down at you.

“So now we just divide and… hey?” he said almost harshly. “Are you paying attention?” He asked in a snarky tone. You felt your face drop.

“I… um…”

“Distracted again?” He tossed the pencil onto the surface of the table, muscular arms crossing as he almost glared at you.

“I’m sorry.” You felt exhausted, covering your face with your hands in defeat. You felt like crying.

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on undressing me with your eyes and more focused on these problems, you’d understand this shit by now.” He grunted. You stilled, face buried deep into your palms before you peered at him through between your fingertips.

“W…What?” You asked, looking at his almost red eyes.

“I said what I said.” Miguel's voice was low, he grabbed your seat and pulled it towards him, the wheels moving you with ease. You felt your core tighten, as your face continued to burn hot, regardless of the air conditioning.

Miguel's eyes practically violated you, staring deep past your own and into your soul before looking you up and down, clearly enjoying how you cowered.

“That pretty little head not used to thinking this hard?” he asked low in your ear. You shuddered, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. “Pathetic.”

He grabbed your waist with his large hands, daring to crush you between his palms. He slowly stood up from his chair, face inches away from yours. You took that as invitation enough and crashed your lips into his, those soft lips felt even better than you imagined, a whimper escaping your lips as his grip increased. He pulled you off of the chair and slammed you onto the table, papers flying and pens scattering around you. You let out a grunt as the air escaped your lungs from the impact.

“I’m taking time out of my night to try and teach you this shit and you can't even meet me halfway and try to learn it?” He huffs yanking down your frumpy sweats to your ankles. You kicked them off, laying on the table in your tight shirt and panties.

“I-I’m sorry, you're just so-” he cut you off with two thick fingers plunging into your mouth, you gagged when they hit the back of your throat. He smirked, watching you drag your tongue around the knuckles of his fingers.

“That ought to shut you up.” He ran a finger from his other hand to your clothed cunt, you moaned around his thick digits when he caressed your clit. Your hips moved on their own accord, grinding against his large hand. “Would you look at that? I didn’t know they accepted whores into this school.” Miguel hummed, voice smooth like honey and deep like an ocean.

His single finger moved to where your pussy and thigh met, yanking aside your black cotton panties to reveal your wet cunt, which clenched around nothing at the sudden cold air.

“Jesus… I bet you were thinking about this all night, huh?” Miguel teased, the calloused tip of his finger just barely grazing along your seeping hole, spreading the warm slick higher and higher up your folds until he could smear it along your sensitive bud, eliciting another moan from behind his drooly fingers.

“Needy, aren’t we?” Miguel withdrew his fingers from your mouth while his other hand unzipped his dress pants, the metal of his belt buckle clanking together as he pulled it out of its loops. The belt hit the floor with a small thud and with his drool-soaked fingers he freed his massive cock and ran the slippery fingers up and down his shaft.

Miguel tore your underwear off of you, as if it was like taking a sticker off a piece of fruit. You felt yourself drip down your thighs, unsure whether or not it was okay to touch yourself while watching this Greek god of a man pleasure himself with your spit, watching your tense cunt beg him to stuff it.

“Like what you see?” He asked, slipping his finger into his mouth and moaning long and deep when he tasted your sweet slick on his tongue. You nodded vigorously, grabbing one of your tits to entice him even further. “Why don’t you take that off while we’re ahead?”

You quickly tossed off your shirt and bra, completely naked on the desk. Miguel softly laughed, watching how nicely you obeyed him.

“You're too easy, y’know that?” With a few more pumps to his shaft, he harshly grabbed one of your thighs and spread your legs even further, admiring your wet pussy.

The moan you two let out when he put his cock inside of you could've been heard by the whole building if it hadn't been well past 10 pm and everyone had gone for the day. His girthy member dared to split you in half, the sheer size of him was far too much to handle, especially all at one. We watched with pleasure as your breathy moans turned into agonized whimpers the further he drove into you. When he had finally gone balls deep inside of you, there was an obvious cock bulge deep inside of you as he stretched out your pussy wonderfully.

“M-Miguel…” You sighed, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

“Oh, so this can keep your attention but me slaving away on your homework can’t?” He smugly asked, pulling out before slamming into you with a grunt. You wailed, scratching the hard surface of the desk underneath you, crumpling stray pieces of scratch paper into your palm while arching your back.

Miguel started at a rough pace, making room out of your tight pussy for his intimidating cock, juices slicking the shaft of his member, and sounds of your wet pussy gushing paired with the creaking of the table filled the room, moans, and mewls adding to euphonious music of your fucking.

“So fucking tight… so fucking tiny… I bet I could fold you like a pretzel,” He said amusingly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pushing the fronts of them against your chest. You cried out loud, new depth being explored by his commanding dick while he used you for his pleasure.

With his massive hands, he spread his fingers out, his thumbs on the backs of your thighs and his four fingers on the small of your back, grabbing onto you so he could bring you up and down on his deep thrusts.

You were seeing stars at this point, scared your arousal would drip onto your homework papers and soil all the progress you’ve made. But it didn’t matter anymore when you threw your head back onto the table and shook in his hands, pussy clenching around his meaty cock and milking him for his own cum.

“Ngh- What did I say? Easy…” He moaned, thrusting inside of you a few more times before he shot a huge load inside of your tiny pussy, cum leaking out between where your sexes met and rolling down your asscheeks.

You lay there on the table, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Miguel watched entranced as your shared cum leaked out of you, finger fucking it back inside of you, wondering if it he could stuff it all back in. He quickly realized your overstimulated cunt couldn’t take it as tears welled in your eyes.

“Sorry,” He said, removing his fingers. “Now uh… where were we?” He picked up the page of work, then his face dropped, looking at the splotch of cum that had spilled out on accident.

“On second thoughts… you might want to turn this in online.”

Tag List: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

Next: Cloning - Kakashi x Reader

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space-ninja-fashion-show · 1 year

Text

This game is fuckin spoiling me

#absolute highest tier of my arsenal right here #kata's chatter #like maybe not absolute best in all categories but damn close #lavos? beloved. main #felarx? i dont use it That much bc i use nataruk/cedo more but it hits like a goddamn truck #and ive learned to enjoy it #xoris? favourite melee. beloved #nukor? closest cousin to my actual favourite secondary (gaze kitgun)#(im so salty about no modular weapons even if i get why)#anyway two baller circuit runs today maxed my focus cap again #i am having so much fun #(the other run was with nidus and holy fuck. holy fuck nidus on circuit is TASTY)#one complaint about incarnon weapons in teshins cave is that the stats dont seem to account for the evolutions >:(

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estrellami-1 · 1 year

Text

Falling

(ao3 link)

Dedicated to @madigoround, my one constant Steddie cheerleader. I hope you like it! ❤️

It’s said if you truly want to get to know someone, tell them no. Watch how they act when they’re angry, when they’re sick, when they’re wrecked by grief.

The truth is, Eddie thinks, the way to truly get to know someone is to watch them when they think they’re not being watched.

So, Eddie watches people. He watches Tommy Hagan ascend the ranks of social hierarchy, climbing closer and closer to the top of the totem pole until he reaches the zenith and finds himself stuck with fake friends and a fake life. He’s mean, in the way that Eddie knows someone is mean to him and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Eddie leaves him alone, ignores him best he can, and hopes Tommy will have the dignity to do the same.

He watches Carol Perkins, faux-model that she is, use her body like a weapon, like a credit card. He knows that she knows that way only heartbreak lies. No one moves to stop her. Eddie knows she’s hurtling towards self-destruction. He knows she’s ignored at home.

He watches Steve Harrington. His ascent to popularity, then in the blink of an eye, his fall. How easily he shrugs off the mantle of King Steve, starts carting around middle schoolers.

How he flinches at loud sounds, abrupt movements, flickering lights.

Steve Harrington intrigues Eddie, is the thing. And Eddie’s never been the type to deny his intrigues. So he studies the fallen king more.

Some things make sense, after spring break. Some things don’t.

Steve has three smiles: the real one, the one everybody thinks is real, and the fake customer service one. He hardly ever uses the first. He’ll use the second a lot. The kids are dipshits, brash in the way only a teenager can be, unaware and uncaring of the effect their words have. Specifically, the effect their words have on Steve.

When they make jokes about his intelligence, Steve will force on a little half-smile, an unaffected air, even as his shoulders slump inward and his chin tips down.

Eddie sees it. He also sees what Steve looks like, eyes wide and wild, grinning and gesturing freely, as he discusses basketball with Lucas or football with Uncle Wayne. Eddie understands the stats he somehow manages to keep track of (even Eddie has notebooks for all his character sheets and all the math everything requires. He’s forgotten, more than once, how he’d done something for a past campaign, and digs through his notebooks until he finds it. But Steve pulls the numbers out of thin air, hardly even pausing as he finds them in his mental filing cabinet, and Eddie is impressed, to say the least). He knows Steve’s smart, even if it’s in a different way than the kids are used to.

He makes a point to mention it. Steve’s over watching the game with Wayne, and Eddie whistles as he listens in to their conversation from the kitchen where he’s making lunch. “That’s some memory,” he says, shaking his head. “I know I couldn’t keep all that straight.”

Steve blinks at him. “What, like all your D&D people?”

“Characters. You don’t want to see the amount of notebooks I have, trying to keep everything straight, and it still ends up all going to hell when I can’t find something.” He raises a challenging brow, daring Steve to argue.

Steve just laughs and leans back into the couch. “Whatever, man, I still think it’s impressive. I’ve been watching for years, it just kinda makes sense that I’d remember a few facts.”

“A few?” Eddie’s eyes light up. “Wayne, quiz him.”

Wayne snorts. “What’m I, your errand boy?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, just to be contrary. He grins at the snicker it pulls from Steve. “Please, Wayne?”

Wayne narrows his eyes at Eddie, then softens his gaze when he moves it over to Steve. “You up for it?”

Steve chuckles. “Sure, I guess. It’d be nice to see how much I actually know.”

For the next few minutes, Wayne gives a name and within a few seconds, Steve’s answered with stats about that person.

Eddie, ever the competitive soul, ends up invested, grinning and high-fiving Steve when Wayne runs out of names. “Knew it,” he said, happily noting the blush making its home on Steve’s cheeks.

“Ha,” Eddie jokes later, ribbing Dustin because he can. “Kiddo, that was worse than-” he thinks for a few seconds, then sighs and raises his voice. “Steve? Who was the guy who did the thing you and Wayne were mad about?”

Dustin judges him with his eyebrows. “Even if Steve had any idea what you’re saying, what makes you think he’d know-”

“Phil Simms,” Steve called back from the kitchen. “Great player, actually, just wrong team.”

Eddie hummed, enjoying the shocked look on Dustin’s face. “Nah, not quite doing it. Who’s the losingest team?”

Losingest team, Dustin mouths, mocking. Eddie notes that he doesn’t actually say anything this time, though.

“Depends. Jets started at ten to one, then lost their final five games. But the Giants beat the Redskins 17 to zero. They also beat the 49ers 49—heh—to three, but that was earlier in the season, and no one expected San Francisco to win anyways.” He walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel, a thoughtful look on his face. “Does any of that help?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie says, even though he has zero idea what Steve actually said. He’s staring, smug grin firmly affixed to his face, at Dustin.

Lucas, over on the couch, sits up straight and stares at Steve. “Did you see Montana’s comeback?”

Steve grins. “Fuckin’ wild, man, but I kinda hate Walsh for letting him. Like, I’ve been there, right? And that was…” he shakes his head. “Not good. Yeah, it’s been weeks, whatever, but an injury like that?” Steve crosses his arms, shakes his head.

Eddie stares, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, possibly, falling.

When the kids make jokes about Steve’s appearance, he’ll put a hand to the back of his neck and rub, force down the blush, avoid eye contact.

Eddie knows Steve’s not shy. So he doesn’t understand why Steve reacts like that until one day he compliments Steve. It’s a simple little line, you have gold in your hair, but Steve beams. Eddie’s left wondering about the difference, realizes there’s a certain type of compliment Steve’s received all his life, that probably ended up less than welcome at some point.

So Eddie makes it his life’s mission to make Steve beam the way he had the first time.

One time they’re out lounging by the pool while the kids splash around, beers in hand, talking about everything and nothing. Steve tips his head back to take a drink and Eddie realizes something. He leans forward to get a better look. “Your eyes are hazel,” he says delightedly, grinning at the flush rapidly showing on Steve’s cheeks.

Steve looks like he’d very much like to take a page out of Eddie’s book and hide behind his hair in that moment. He hides behind his beer instead, takes another sip as he waits for his face to get back under control. “Are they?” He asks, like he doesn’t know. He’s such a little shit. Eddie’s obsessed.

Another time, Eddie breaks in (is it breaking in if everyone and their mother knows where Steve puts the spare key?) and starts making breakfast while Steve’s out on a run. He almost swallows his tongue when Steve walks back in, sweaty and flushed, wearing shorts that God Himself must have sculpted just for Steve.

Instead of saying that, Eddie adopts an unaffected face and raises a brow. “Pretty sure there’s a fine for public indecency, sweetheart, and those shorts break about eight of those rules. ‘Course, no one’s gonna say anything when they’re on you.”

Steve laughs, light and happy as he accepts the water Eddie hands him. “And why’s that?”

“Because I think you single-handedly caused every gay crisis on the police force.”

Steve laughs hard enough he snorts, and Eddie’s immediately hellbent on hearing that sound again. “That so?” He asks, then pauses. “Wait, what the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?”

Eddie shrugs, like it should be obvious. “Making breakfast. I wanted pancakes.”

“And you couldn’t make them at your place?”

Eddie just shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. Steve badly hides his grin as he shakes his head and turns around, citing a need for a shower as he heads upstairs. “Don’t burn the house down!”

“Betrayal!” Eddie yells back, grinning when Steve cackles again.

Eddie stares as Steve walks upstairs, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, probably, falling.

Eddie studies Steve. Studies him and watches him more and more. His mannerisms, his interactions with others. And he realizes something very interesting: Steve’s always the one to reach out.

He tugs Dustin into a teasing headlock, rubs his knuckles over the top of his head. Flings his arm over Lucas’s shoulders, pokes at Mike until he responds, bumps Will’s elbow with his own. Brushes his fingers over Max’s arm, pulls El into a hug. Robin is the only person who consistently pulls Steve into a hug, and even so, most of the time it’s teasing; a quick, sharp thing, jerky movements and practically pushing him away when she’s done.

So Eddie starts. Brushes his hand across Steve’s shoulders as he’s walking by. Poking at Steve’s cheeks to get a reaction. Quick, tight hugs, at first.

Or… that was the plan. The first time he pulls Steve into a hug, they’re alone, because Eddie does not want to have to deal with Dustin and his dramatics in that moment. So Eddie pulls Steve in, arms flung around him and squeezing in a half-joking manner, and Steve practically melts.

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie mutters, stumbling a little. “You good, Stevie?”

Steve pulls back, a blush making its way across his cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. It- it won’t happen again.”

Eddie frowns. “How the fuck is that what you got from it?”

Steve shrugs. “I know I can be… well, Nancy called it clingy, and I’ve had a few girlfriends in the past who called it clingy, and if it looks like a rose and smells like a rose, then…”

“Shit, Steve, no, that’s not- what the fuck were your girlfriends on? Why would they call that clingy? That’s not- Christ, Steve, if that’s clingy, sign me up. Seriously. Just warn me next time, we don’t all have the body of a Greek god, we can’t all carry our somewhat-acquaintances out of hell.” He grins at Steve, a half-thing that grows when Steve tentatively grins back.

“Body of a Greek god?”

“Oh, don’t go fishing for compliments, I know you, you’re not that shallow.” He rolls his eyes, smiles. Tentatively places his hands on Steve’s arms, just above his wrists. “You hear of something called touch-starved?”

Steve cautiously looks him in the eye. “I can guess,” he finally says, and Eddie pulls him into another hug.

This one lasts for something close to a minute, and Eddie ignores it when Steve takes a step back and molds his face back into shape. “Anytime,” he says quietly, like a promise. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees.

It happens again a week later.

Everyone’s over for Hellfire. Steve was in the kitchen, had been there practically since everyone had trickled in.

There’s a quiet clatter, an even quieter shit, then a pause before Steve heaves a sigh. “Eddie?”

Eddie furrows his brows in concern, motions for everyone to stay where they are, then makes his way into the kitchen, seeing Steve gripping the edge of the sink. “Steve?”

“I’ve been having a shit day,” he starts. “If… if you meant what you said. Last time?”

“Anytime,” Eddie swears. “Hey, Stevie, c’mon, the sink’s not going anywhere, let’s let go, yeah? Wanna stay down here or go upstairs?”

Steve makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Your game-”

“Will be there later,” Eddie finishes. “Here or upstairs?” Steve shakes his head, a sharp movement, and Eddie recognizes it. “Want me to pick?”

“Please.”

“Upstairs. Can you do it yourself?”

Steve makes another guttural noise, pulls away from the sink, and marches upstairs.

Eddie follows. All the way upstairs, into Steve’s room, pausing to close and lock the door. “We’re safe,” he says quietly, and opens his arms. “Stevie?”

Steve trembles as he allows himself to be hugged, hands fisting in the back of Eddie’s shirt, head guided to the junction of Eddie’s neck and shoulder.

Eddie pets a solid hand down Steve’s back, squeezing at his waist for a moment before bringing it up again, just below his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’re all okay, we’re all safe. What’re you seeing, Stevie?”

Steve takes a breath. It only stutters a little. “Had a dream ‘bout you last night,” he admits. “Kinda fucked me over.”

Eddie’s heart clenches. “I’m here,” he promises, and guides them onto the bed. “D’you want to be on top or bottom?”

He feels Steve’s brows scrunch against his shoulder. “What?”

“Some people need the pressure of someone on them. It’s grounding. For some, it’s too much.”

“Oh,” Steve mutters. “You on top.”

Eddie bites his tongue on the joke that wants to come out. “M’kay, c’mon, then, still not the one with the body of a Greek god.”

He feels Steve’s tentative smile as they roll over, a breath huffed into his chest. “Always liked Apollo.”

“God of the sun,” Eddie agrees. “Suits you.” He gets his arms out from under Steve, puts them on his shoulders. “This work?”

Steve hums. His eyes are shut. “Didn’t wanna take you from your game. Sorry.”

“And I told you it’ll be there later. If you need something, I want to help you get it. Simple as that.”

Steve sighs, tips his head to the side. His chin brushes the back of Eddie’s hand, and he does it again. “This works.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, watching Steve brush his chin over the back of his hand. “If there’s something you want, I need you to ask for it. I can’t read your mind.” Steve’s brows furrow as his eyes open, and Eddie clicks his tongue. “Close your eyes.” They drop shut again, and he nudges the back of his hand a little harder against Steve’s chin. “What do you want?”

Steve sighs again, gathering courage. “Want you to play with my hair.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat. He brushes his hand up, traces the line of Steve’s silhouette, up his chin, his nose, around his eye. Drags the backs of his fingers across his forehead, surreptitiously checking for a fever. Nothing. Steve relaxes back into the pillows.

Eddie gets a hand in Steve’s hair and tugs gently, releasing to scrape his fingertips over Steve’s scalp. Revels in the hum Steve lets out. “Sunshine boy,” he murmurs. “Who takes care of you?”

“Sunshine boy?”

Eddie smiles softly, even though Steve’s eyes are still closed. “Gold hair, gold eyes. My own personal Apollo.”

Steve smiles. “You’re Dionysus.”

“Mm. God of drunken joy and madness.”

“And theater.”

“Oh, yes, how could I ever forget one of the billion things one of the billion gods was known for.”

Steve snorts. “Thank you,” he murmurs, hands brushing Eddie’s waist. “I shouldn’t need this. Any of it.”

Eddie cards his hand through Steve’s hair again. “But you do.”

“But I do,” Steve agrees with a sigh. “And you just… you’re selfless.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

Steve snorts. “You’re full of shit.”

“Yup. Selfless and full of shit. Sounds about right.”

“Oh my god,” Steve laughs, cracking open an eye to look at him. They both still, caught in each other’s gaze, realizing just how close they are to each other.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve looks away. “Go back to your game,” he whispers. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay,” Eddie responds at the same volume, and slowly gets up. He lifts his hand off the doorknob when Steve calls his name. “Yeah?”

“Stay? After?”

“Sunshine boy,” he says again, just to get that smile. “Yeah, Stevie. I’ll stay after.”

After comes sooner than either of them expect, but Dustin got sloppy, and what’s the point of one-shots if not to throw them to the wind when it all goes to shit, so there’s a lot of good-natured ribbing and thoughtless decisions and uncaring dice rolls before it ends and everyone’s packing up.

Dustin’s mom comes to pick up everyone who didn’t drive there, because she’s an angel of a woman, and Eddie makes excuses for why he’s staying until finally he doesn’t have to, it’s just him and Steve, and Steve’s looking at him with the softest smile and something that looks like adoration shining in his eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to start, then shuts it with a shake of his head. “C’mon,” he says finally. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”

Eddie sits first, and Steve stands, hands wringing one another, until Eddie leans forward, grabs them, and gently guides him to sit next to Eddie. “There.” He holds one of Steve’s hands in his. “Do you want to start, or should I?”

Steve worries his lip. “Do we need to talk about it? If we both know what we’re saying?”

Eddie grins. “So if I were to start talking about buying little party hats for raccoons…”

Steve snorts. “Okay, you ass, point taken.” His smile falls. “You’ve been… really nice to me, these past few months. And that’s not why, not at all, but it doesn’t exactly hurt either. I just…” he shakes his head. “Why me?”

“Why you what? Why am I nice to you? Why have I been taking care of you? Why-” the question sticks in his throat for half a second. “Why do I like you?”

Steve smiles, bashful, and looks down at their intertwined hands. “All of the above, basically.”

Eddie taps the back of Steve’s hand thoughtfully. They both watch the movement. “Because you’re worth it,” he says simply. “Because no one else does it. No one else sees what you do for them. No one else cares. I do. I don’t think I was given a choice, honestly, you looked at me and I was fuckin’ gone. And I’m gonna keep doing this until you believe me. Until you believe that you deserve to take up space, to exist, to have wants and opinions and preferences.”

“It might take a while.”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I might never fully believe it.”

“I’ll be here forever.” He pulls their intertwined hands up to press a kiss to the back of Steve’s.

“It sounds like a lot of boring work.” His voice is high, thready. There are tears in his eyes that fall when he blinks.

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Watery eyes narrow at him. “Did you just quote a fucking Greek tragedy at me?”

“Uh. Maybe?”

Steve snorts, shakes his head, and leans in to lay his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s old news, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, feels his heart skip a beat when Steve responds by nuzzling his throat. “Is that it, then? We’re done talking?”

Steve sighs and tilts his head up so they can look at each other. “I like you too,” he says quietly. “Just… for the record. And I want this. And…” he bites his lip, then just as quickly releases it. “I wanna kiss you. Um. If that’s alright.”

“Sunshine boy,” Eddie murmurs. “Of course that’s alright. Get up here.” He pulls as Steve pushes up, meaning Steve overbalances and sprawls across Eddie’s lap. They stare, wide-eyed, at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter.

“Okay?” Eddie checks, even as Steve rights himself and scrambles the rest of the way onto Eddie’s lap, grinning as he plays with the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck.

“Perfect.” His grin grows and a tiny little giggle slips out, like he’s so happy his body just can’t contain it all anymore. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

It’s less a warning, more an explanation for why he’s so happy, and it has Eddie’s heart full to bursting in his chest as he slips his hands just under the hem of Steve’s shirt to rest them directly on his waist. “You are,” he agrees. He almost jokes—not if I kiss you first—but knows Steve needs this. “Take your time,” he says instead, even though he feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest, like he’s about to vibrate out of his own skin. His hands are steady, though, as are his eyes when he looks into Steve’s.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” He’s whispering now, so Eddie drops his voice to match.

“It’s a big thing. You’re allowed to be nervous. Is there any way I could help?”

Steve scrunches his nose up, then moves to rest their foreheads together. “Um. Close your eyes? Maybe?”

Eddie’s eyes immediately shut. “Take your time,” he promises. “Or we can wait. There’s no shame. I won’t be upset.”

“Yeah, but I will,” Steve jokes, and Eddie chuckles.

“There’s a movie,” he starts. “An old silent film that Wayne likes. I watched it with him because he said something about vamp, so of course my mind went to vampire. It wasn’t, to my dismay, but there’s a line. A seductress bewitches men by getting them to kiss her. One man’s about to kill her, like gun-to-the-head about to kill her, and she says kiss me, my fool.”

He can practically feel Steve’s grin. He can definitely hear it. “Which one am I?”

“Oh, definitely the seductress, have you seen yourself, sunshine? I’m the fool in this scenario. Or any scenario, really.”

Steve hums. “Dionysus.”

“Shut up.” He’s laughing, though, grinning at Steve’s giggle, then freezes when Steve’s lips land on the corner of his. “Oh,” he whispers when Steve pulls away.

Steve laughs softly, puts a thumb at the corner of one of Eddie’s eyes. “You can open your eyes.” He’s whispering again, and Eddie looks to see Steve staring at him, a small, wondering smile on his lips.

“Heya, sunshine,” he whispers, almost choking on the amount of emotions he feels.

“Hi.” He pauses, fidgets. “Can I kiss you for real?”

“Yeah. You want me to close my eyes?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just… kiss back.”

Eddie grins, wide and in love. “I was planning on it.”

Steve grins back, just as wide and just as happy. “Shut up.”

“And if I said make me…”

Steve giggles. “I might just have to,” he says before finally leaning in, slotting their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss.

He tastes like the pizza they’d been eating and the beer they’d been drinking, and underneath that is something so Steve, and Eddie wants to spend the rest of forever discovering that taste. When they pull apart, his eyes open—when had he closed them?—and land on Steve, who’s also in the process of opening his eyes. “Wow,” he murmurs, and Steve giggles as he rests their foreheads together again.

“Just about.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Steve whispers, so Eddie wastes no time in sealing their lips together again. It’s still soft and slow and sweet, and Eddie focuses on making Steve relax against him. He cards a hand through Steve’s hair, squeezes a little at the nape of his neck, runs it down his back, down his side, to knead at his hips. In response, Steve hums into the kiss, shifting a little to let more of his weight rest on Eddie’s lap. Eddie does it again and again, thrilled at the feeling of Steve finally relaxing fully onto him. They both pull away, lips wine-dark and tender, and Steve smiles, eyes still closed, as Eddie runs his hand through his hair one more time. “Keep that up and I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmurs, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the trust in his voice.

“Maybe that’s my plan,” he answers. “I seduced you just to get you to take better care of yourself.”

Steve’s smile widens. “That’s the only reason?”

“Obviously,” Eddie teases. “Well, that and the fact that I’m ridiculously into you, but that seems like a separate thing.”

“Right,” Steve agrees, giggling. He opens his eyes and presses a quick peck to Eddie’s nose. “I’m kinda ridiculously into you, too.”

“Well,” Eddie says, because out of everything, of course this would be what takes his words away. “Good.”

“Good,” Steve agrees, laying his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie leans back into the couch, adjusting his hold on Steve so he’s as comfortable as possible. “G’night,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss over Steve’s temple.

He can feel Steve’s lips lift into a smile. “Night, Eds.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s neck, and Eddie smiles as he tilts his head back into the couch.

He stares up at the ceiling, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, definitely, falling.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #touch starved steve harrington #I don’t think I’ll ever write him another way honestly #stranger things #steddie fic #st fic #Eddie has the patience of a saint #(mostly he’s just in love)#Steve is struggling #honestly idk how else to tag this #starambles

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harfanfare · 2 months

Text

Idia drabble, fluff, lots of couple banter

Your wishlist containing released games is empty.

In the next several minutes after saving a title to one, you can expect a notification that the game is getting downloaded, and a mere seconds after that—several messages from your boyfriend.

“thought u would never play it lol”

“weren't you supposed to be studying??”

He sends a meme degrading your hierarchy of values as if he were any better. It is followed by a request.

“stream it to me when you play it”

And you do, after thanking him yet chiding him for wasting too much money on you without a second thought. His reply was a string of emojis and guarantee that he is doing it all for himself, because “educating you on the topic of latest games is his duty” and he cares about “the boyfriend points”.

“I hope my love’o’meter for u was broken by all that pampering lmao”

“waiting for my cg to load up…”

[NAME]: “not enough affection points”

“damn”

“i need a walkthroughyt to this route”

Idia has you join a voice channel, with you sharing your screen. Playing a game in a separate dorm is a whole different experience than having him beside you, with his hands almost trembling to grab your controller if you couldn’t get past a certain level.

He would always wait for you to ask him for help, though. Then he could let the feeling of self-satisfaction sink in as he easily guided your character to another enemy to slash.

If he only has you on the voice chat, you might be able to finish the game almost fully by yourself.

You can hear the soft sound of his keyboard as he plays something as well. He divides his attention between you and his entertainment, and he throws in commentary to your playthrough, teasing you when you can’t find a secret key to the special gate, bullying you when you find the puzzles too hard, or when you pick the wrong dialogue option.

At some point, you might try to (playfully) mute his microphone, but you can only have eight seconds of silence before he hacks into the options.

“No need to be jealous of my gaming knowledge,” he exclaims, and you know he has that big stupid grin on his face. You huff, and he hums. “But if you want me to help, all you need to do is just ask.”

“I want to go through this game myself!”

“Okay, sure. But you know you have already missed the opportunity for the best ending, no?” He laughs. “That’s what you get for muting me, kitten.”

No need to spoil the ending just to get back at me, you’d love to say, but you learned that the shy boy who couldn’t hold your gaze several months ago is actually a big tease. You must’ve grown too much on him, as he would have continued the bickering even if you showed up in his room. No social anxiety towards you—that’s a bit of a shame, he was cute when you first started dating.

…Well, Idia you know now is a cutie as well, even if he can be very annoying sometimes.

“Enough. I’m going to play my otome games, bye.”

You log out, and shut the stream, chuckling all the time. A funny feeling tingled your heart, like always when you won (or have you?) in banter in Idia: your heart is warm enough to probably melt through the ribcage, but a subtle alarm rings in your head. Idia will probably take revenge for this.

He must already be in distress. He doesn’t like you playing otome games alone, as if you could have ever preferred a 2D boy over Idia. The thought makes you laugh.

You plop on your bed, unlocking your phone and tapping an icon of the name game you’ve installed. Although playing it with Idia would have been funnier, you are going to play him just out of spite.

…And after that, you will send him a wall of text about those handsome characters, because he needs to be updated on your current obsessions.

The title screen appears before everything crashes and the screen goes black. Several messages in neon-blue futuristic font colour appear one by one.

An error has occurred.

Caught exception:

Traceback (most recent call last):

File “characters”, line 46, in script

File “stats”, line 153, in script

File “story”, line 665, in script

File “achievements”, line 411, in log.1

File “backup_data”, line 139, in log

To continue:

“[Name]-san. Please come to our dorm. My brother is moping (so he won’t be finishing his project anytime soon, which is, really bad) and I would appreciate you having mercy on him.

Once you come, I will restore your data! It’s a promise :>

— ORTHO”

…Damn those Shrouds.

#idia strikes me as a man who can play a games with you but if it's not a cozy game he will criticize you a lot #he would probably love playing with you but his inner desire for winning a game is bigger than anything #watching him play a game is a show though #bring the popcorn #he could be a popular gaming streamer if he didn't fear people irl would comment on it #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst idia #twst idia x reader #as a computer science student i have no idea if an error like that could occur (burning in shame)

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xqueen-of-disasterx · 24 days

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Maybe one with bunny!hyrbid!reader and Natasha “adopts” her and just fucks the shit out of her with her strap (or her real cock if you prefer to write that)

Run Rabbit Run

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fem!bunny!hybrid!reader x owner!Nat

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Natasha can’t help but grant her bunny all her little wishes

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, dom!Nat, sub!reader, age gap (legal), ownership, size kink, strap on, artificial cum, slight breeding kink, pillow humping, slight somno, masturbation, crying during it,

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

What to do with all the money you make as an Avenger? That was a question Natasha had ask herself more times than she could count. Sure currently was her monthly pay check and all the money she made from interviews and social media was rotting away in her bank account, because she was never a fan of making herself gifts nor did she have time for it. But now with Easter just around the corner the Russian decided to not only do something against her overload on money but also against her loneliness.

She wanted a hybrid, not just some brainless pet but something that could actually understand her. The concept of owing a hybrid wasn't new of course it had been around for years, back in the days they actually hunted them from nature but nowadays there was no need after they got a hang of how to domesticate such a creature.

Natasha stepped foot in one of the only places in the whole of New York who sold these rare creatures- Tony had recommended it to her after once more bragging about his large collection. The over friendly employee showed her the different enclosures all while the employee tried to keep it together- after all you didn't see an Avenger daily not even when working for a prestigious company like she did.

Natasha first visited the cat hybrids, cute but too stubborn, then the dogs, too dependent, foxes were too clever for her taste though especially the polar foxes caught her eyes. Bears and any other large animals would be too much work and needed too much space. The right pick was right on her nose she wanted to get herself a bunny.

Standing in front of the enclosure which held you and a few of your companions Natasha and the employee stood, her gaze never leaving your body. You didn't alter much from a normal human, except for the fluffy bunny ears, little tail and over all smaller build you looked like any other girl. You were going to cost her a hefty amount of hard earned money but for your rare breed, Natasha couldn't care less about that in the moment. The way you stat there so carelessly reading some book which laid in her lap, made you different in her eyes more intelligent maybe? She wanted connection and not some braindead doll after all.

"The one in the pink collar… is she still to have?" Natasha asked the employee you gave her a quick nod. "Yes, she hasn't been here for long though the ones like her normally get adopted quite quickly." Nat only hummed in approval she couldn't wait to have you in her home. "I'll have her in a private kennel"

Meeting a potential owner made you nervous of course you had been trained to and prepared on how to act in such a situation, how to appeal to any potential owner - though you secretly hoped for a female buyer. You tried your best to hide your shy nature from the older woman who awaited you but Natasha found it charming how your, compared to your body, large floppy bunny ears hang low but twitched up when she spoke to you in a gentle manner.

Natasha approached the situation with a calm demeanour- she knew about the shy nature of a bunny like you. As soon as you were comfortable enough to approach her she started to pet over your smaller head with careful hands- and you loved it. By the end of your get to know each other you sat on the redhead's lap clinging on to her. But you weren't parted for long Natasha signed all the paperwork the same day and at the start of the next week you were able to move in with her.

She had given you a nice room, with many books, TV and games to entrain yourself with while she would be working. You came with the clothes from the centre, a basic white bluse, white skirt everything in white , like any other hybrid except for your coloured coded collar which adored your neck so the employees had an easier time keeping hybrids a part. Natasha started to take great joy in precisely choosing each outfit for you. Price didn't matter to Natasha, if she found something to be cute she bought it for you and Nat was known for expensive taste. Sooner or later your closet was fuller than hers, filled to the brim with shorts, blouses, floral summer dresses anything which had a playful feel to it.

Natasha was a busy woman though, often being away for days at a time, she normally made up with expensive gifts and extensive cuddling for her little bunny girl. But that hardly was enough to satisfy your need to be close to the older woman, not to mention that you were worried sick about your owner once you had found out that she wasn't a simple business woman but an avenger.

Natasha came home at around 3 AM after a long mission in Europe the jet lag and sleep deprive was killing her, and since she thought you'd already be asleep at such a late hour- and way past your agreed on bed time, she'd just go to sleep already. As soon as she had stripped to her underwear and her face had it the pillows she was dead asleep, little did she know that you weren't.

Next door you were awake, not only that but you were desperate. This had never happened before yet you immediately knew what it was. You had your first heat, and nothing helped, no toy's from the centre, no playing with yourself, no nothing. You had a pillow under your hips probed up at the seams you humped the pillow like your life depended on it.

You mewled as your already sensitive cunt graced over the edge of the pillow. You were close to cuming but you couldn't bring yourself over the edge. That's when you heard Natasha rummaging through the house you're floppy bunny ears twitching up to detect the source of the noise. You waited patiently in your room trying to find some sleep, maybe Natasha could help you out in the morning. But you could feels your juices sticking to the inside of your thighs.

With small steps you made it into Natasha's bed room tears of frustration already building in your eyes threatening to spill over your blushing cheeks. Carefully you climbed into her bed to find her in a deep slumber laying on her back. You sat down on her on her thigh your pussy making contact with her soft skin.

Slowly you started to rhythmically move it against the limp muscles of her thigh small whimpers falling from your throat in between the sobs of frustration paired with the cries of her name and the tears rolling down your cheek it made a whole picture.

Natasha peaceful face scrunched up in confusion of the sensation when she slowly woke from her slumber she was utterly distraught. Her sweet little bunny humping her thigh like a bitch in heat. With careful hands she stopped your hips and you immediately broke out into a new round of sobs and cries.

"Sheesh" she hushed you petting over over your low hanging ears "You're just in heat bunny, it'll be over soon" She assured you when you pressed your face into her neck. "I want it over now!" You cried out "what about the advice the centre gave you?" She tried but feeling you so desperate and need had an affect on her too.

"Doesn't work" You huffed out "I want you to play with me" Nat was startled by the request, was it morally right for her to sleep with you? It was the main point of criticism surrounding owing a hybrid, but what if not the owner but the hybrid wanted it. "Please" you whined and the assassin's strong will broke right there. "Wait here bunny I'll go get something" You nodded and released Natasha from your grace watching her go.

She came back with a noticeable bulge in her sleep shorts, which upon seeing made your thighs clench together. "It's not going to hurt bunny" She assured and got behind you pulling her shorts down to reveal her, to your body size massive, strap on. She pressed the fat tip against your entrance and your hooded eyes flew open in surprise at the shear size of the toy.

"Natty, it's to big" You mewled out your cotton tail twitching "It's not gonna fit" Natasha scoffed shaking her head as if you had just made an outrageous statement. "I'm gonna make it fit bunny" She pushed forward and your bunny hears flew up in surprise of the stretch. You hands dug into the soft pillow underneath your head as you whimpered in a mic of pain and pleasure.

"Natasha!" You cried as she bottomed you out the stretch being much greater than you could've accomplished with your little fingers. "I'm gonna move now bunny" You nodded and felt her starting with a comfortable rhythm which made the pain turn into pleasure.

By your sweet moans she could tell how much you liked it and fastened her pace to finally give you what you wanted. With deep thrusts she stroked your G spot making you see stars as she too enjoyed the feeling of the strap running against her clit. You mewled out some words she couldn’t make out but took at as a sign of approval for her to keep going.

With both of her hands on your hips she forcefully slammed into your tight heat making sure to not actually hurt you. You arched your back one hand sneaking to your neglected bundle of nerves rubbing it in tight circles. “Fuck are you close?” Natasha asked there was a certain tiredness in her voice still. She clenched down harder on the silicone and mewled out “Yes, please”

“Fuck cum with me” with a few more fast thrusts you came first you’re juicing coating the lower stomach of the black widow. She had a surprise for you when you noticed a thick liquid gushing from the strap into your womb as she came. After having cum herself she pulled out to watch in an awe how the white cum was dripping from your stretched out hole.

After having cleaned you up Natasha could finally rest but not without you resigning on her chest of course. Call it what you wanted for Natasha those feelings of affection were real and of no ill intent she just did whatever you wanted to ensure happiness. With that thought and still cum dripping from your hole both you and Natasha fell asleep.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #lesbian smut #lesbian #wlw ns/fw #marvel woman x reader #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction

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wileys-russo · 18 days

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I had a cute idea I wanted to share because I love the way you write!! Leah has back to back interviews from home and reader is sat on the sofa just watching her, falling more and more in love with how passionate her girl is. Leah gets all blushy and a bit flustered by the gaze. Just a cute fluffy one x

lock down II l.williamson

"-and then i've got another over zoom with sky sports at three and i should be done for the day." your girlfriend sighed, already tired by her day before it had even begun.

"no rest for the wicked huh?" you hummed, still laid down in bed as the blonde restlessly paced back and forth across the room. "god then i've gotta fit in our gym program too! do you mind if we do it tonight? i know we're not supposed to but that at least gives me a few hours in between." leah groaned in realization.

"leah breath! of course i don't mind babe, its more enjoyable when we do the program together anyway. i'm more than sure we can push it back a few hours and it shouldn't affect the stats too much." you assured her gently as the blonde nodded.

"so much for lock down! everyone's watching bloody netflix and making tiktoks but noo im memorizing scripts and listening to the same witty one liner over and over about how hard it must be to 'work from home' as a footballer." leah mocked, falling backwards onto the bed with a huff.

"but is it?" you questioned as she sat up slightly and turned her head to be able to see you. "is it what?" leah asked with a confused frown. "is it hard to work from home as a footballer?" you questioned with a frown of your own.

one which quickly turned into a grin as your girlfriend lunged at you, ducking your head under the covers as her bony fingers poked and prodded at you, your safety blanket ripped away as the blonde hovered over you.

"you think you're so fucking funny." leah rolled her eyes as your grin grew. "well one of us has to have a sense of humor in this relationship baby, you're not called captain grumpy for nothing." you teased, tapping your lips expectantly.

"cheeky girl." leah tutted but none the less gave into your request, pressing her lips to yours as your hands moved to tangle in her hair, deepening the kiss as she settled on top of you.

but no sooner did the taller girl slip her tongue into your mouth, hands gliding slowly up your bare stomach, did her alarm go off.

"why!" leah pulled away and groaned moodily, flopping down and burying her face in your neck making you chuckle and gently scratch your nails against her scalp as you tapped snooze.

"babe this isn't making me anymore inclined to get up." your girlfriend mumbled against your skin making you smile. "what if i promise to make breakfast and have it ready for when your first interviews done?" you whispered into her hair, squirming as the girl sighed.

"might be working a little." leah admitted making you laugh and press a kiss to her cheek. "mm and what if i make your favorite breakfast?" you hummed, still rhythmically scratching at her scalp.

"the williamson special?" she questioned, the words muffled into your neck but you laughed again. "the williamson special. an omelette with ham, cheese and not a single spec of colour, flavour or vegetables." you teased, squealing as she pinched your hip but pulled her head up.

"you promised not to mock my eating habits." the older girl frowned with a pout that you quickly kissed away. "no i promised not to mock them last week, todays monday. brand new day of opportunity!" you grinned, pushing her hands away where they tickled at the sliver of skin where your shirt had rode up.

"first my speech impediment and now my diet. you really are a wicked awful woman!" leah sighed with a shake of her head as you scoffed.

"my love we've been over this. you don't have a speech impediment, you're just from milton keynes." you whispered against her lips, pulling away right before they could press against hers, pushing her off of you and moving to stand with a stretch.

"now my beloved MK, you're going the right way for the silent treatment missy." leah pointed at you with a glare as you oohed sarcastically. "tempting. is that a promise?" you winked, laughing as she lurched forward and grabbed the back of your top tugging you back down into bed.

"you are very lucky you're cute." your girlfriend tutted from above you, shaking her head. "and you're very lucky i'm so patient." you poked at her nose with an amused smile as leah gasped in mock offence, your girlfriend nothing if not the expert at annoying you.

"you wait for the third one and you won't have time to shower lee." you warned, pushing her fringe out of her face with a soft smile as she leaned over you to tap stop on the second alarm on her phone and looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

"in that case, wanna save some water?"

you were trying to concentrate on your own laptop, you really were.

in the spirit of having nothing better to do locked away in your home you'd signed up for an online accounting course, with leah already studying a much higher qualification in the same field she'd been a massive help.

but why would you waste your time looking at tax brackets and finance breakdowns when you could stare at your incredibly fit gorgeous girlfriend who was sat only a few metres away in your direct eyeline.

you smiled at how she threw and flailed her hands about as she spoke, always one to speak expressively and passionately as she was recounting a story from her childhood when she'd played on a boys team and was relentlessly pushed about for being 'just too good'.

it was one of the first things that had you falling deeply for the older girl, how passionate she was. not just about football but with anything she put her mind and heart to, including how fiercely she loved.

not just how she loved you, but how she loved her family, loved football, loved her friends, the girl could be a handful and a stubborn headache at times but nobody could deny that she was also one of the most sincere and loving human beings you'd ever met.

so with that in mind you sighed quietly, a dopey smile on your face as you pined over her like a lovesick puppy, something the pair of you were often teased about by your team mates but it just washed over you like water off a ducks back, both of you far too loved up in your little bubble to pay it any mind.

in fact without leah you were certain you'd have long lost your mind amid this pandemic, the blonde finding little ways every day to make you still feel so special or to have you smile or laugh, two things which rapidly became her favorite reward.

just yesterday she'd woken you up with breakfast in bed and a bunch of flowers just because.

granted she did order the breakfast from a local cafe which was still operating for delivery and you couldn't prove it but you were near certain that she'd stolen the flowers from some of your neighbors front yards on her morning walk.

regardless you were touched by the thoughtful gesture and showered her with sweet kisses as a thank you, even if leah did eat nearly all of your breakfast much to your amusement given it was hardly up to her usual bland unseasoned standards.

you leaned back a little more into the sofa and crossed your legs underneath you, balancing your laptop on a cushion on your lap, a soft smile plastered permanently into your features.

once or twice leah caught your eyes staring over the top of her own laptop, sending you a small grin or a subtle wink before her attention returned back to the interviewer.

you heard him say that the next game would be a drawing one, sliding your laptop away and hurrying to grab a notebook and pen, placing them beside leah who mouthed her thanks as you took a seat across from her at the dining table.

leah gave you a questioning look as you did so but you merely shrugged, gesturing for her to pay attention as she tuned back into the interview. you watched as she was told to draw her wembley stadium, competing against the interviewer.

you smiled as you took her in, the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, nostrils flaring in annoyance every now and then as she was unhappy with a stroke of her pen, a small puff of air exhaled from the corner of her mouth as the tip of her tongue pushed out the other side.

you took a photo of her and smiled, placing your phone back down and resting your chin on your hand. leah could feel your stare on her and as she revealed her drawing and you grinned as the tips of her ears and cheeks flushed red.

"stop!" she mouthed at you as you shook your head, still staring at her in admiration as her attention switched back to the interview. finally after what felt like hours of your gaze pinned to her leah was able to wrap it up, saying her goodbyes and clicking end call on the zoom, pushing her laptop closed.

"what?" you smiled innocently as the blonde sat back in her chair and shook her head at you. "you have a staring problem!" she accused with a point as you gasped and held a hand to your chest.

"i do not. i wasn't staring, i was admiring!" you clarified as leah hummed, her chair pushing back with a scrape. "cheeky." leah clicked her tongue as you followed after her to the kitchen, kissing her still slightly pink cheek with a smile as she grabbed a juice out from the fridge.

"leah!" you scoffed as you held your hand out for it to take a mouthful and she slapped her palm against yours with a wink.

last one, sorry babe." the blonde smirked as your mouth formed a small o. "those are mine!" you protested, rushing around the counter and trying to snatch it off her as she pushed you away effortlessly with one hand and downed the juice with the other.

"you are so unbel-" you started to tell her off as she exhaled happily and tossed the empty bottle into the recyling bin with a happy whoop as it landed. "no no wait, let me guess." her finger smushed against your lips silencing you as she stroked her chin as if deep in thought.

"unbelievably sexy?" silence. "no? okay. unbelievably charming?" silence again. "wrong again? mmm unbelievably intelligent?" more silence. "wow thought i had it there. unbelievably-" you wrenched her hand away at that and shook your head.

"unbelievably infuriating!" you rolled your eyes as leah smacked her forehead with a scoff. "that was my next guess!" she tutted with a shake of her head as you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"hey hey don't get all stroppy. there's still three more in there i was only teasing." leah grabbed your waist and pulled your shorter form into her, a noise of surprise leaving your mouth as her hands hooked under your thighs and she hoisted you up to sit on the counter as she settled between your legs.

"how about the williamson special right now?" leah smiled, thumb tracing your bottom lip as you gave her a look of slight confusion. "you want another omelette?" you questioned as your girlfriend shook her head.

"no no baby girl, the real williamson special." leah rasped, hands toying with the waistband of your sweats as you caught onto what she was suggesting.

"mmm and whats that? my memory needs a jog." you hummed, a smile settling onto your own face as the girl leaned in, minty breath fanning your face as her lips were millimeters from yours.

"mind blowingly passionate sex with a guaranteed happy ending, and then-" your eyes fluttered closed as she moved to kiss at your neck, lips trailing from your jaw down to the column of your throat, biting softly before she moved to tug at the lobe of your ear.

"-then we eat potato smileys in bed naked and watch the golf." leah exhaled as you moaned playfully.

"god i love it when you talk dirty to me."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine

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