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dandelions-143 · 16 hours

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Who’s Gonna Hold You like me? Nofuckinbody

Part 1

This one’s kind of sad/dramatic but there will be more parts to it.

Pairing: Idol Changbin x f!reader

Genre: Friends to Friends with benefits to nothing

Warnings: not much, cussing, a little drinking, it just ends sad… for now

Summary: You’re friends with Idol Changbin. You spend as much time together as possible. It’s always a fun time with him. Late nights sneaking out doing things you know would get you both in trouble but, it also feels like Changbin is stringing you along in some ways and it gets to you… coming to a bow up after so long of holding it in.

Masterlist

(Did not proofread… sorry!! Also likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!!)

He had all the car windows down. The wind combing through your hair. The music was up loud and he was speeding down the coast towards the beach. You looked over and a ghost of a smile played upon his lips. He was beautiful, sweet, gentle, and a little wild. Changbin was not suppose to be out right now, he had a busy schedule as an idol. A strict schedule nearly daily and he always stuck to that except late at night.

He would come and pick you up in his new car he recently bought. You would run out of your front door adrenaline pumping through your veins at the sight of him and the fact that if he got caught sneaking out of his dorm or if he got caught with you it could possibly mean real trouble for him. Changbin didn’t care, he wanted to spend every night he could with you and his friends.

Changbin was a bit of a bad boy, taking you to abandon places that had no trespassing signs just so you two could stay out all night drinking, dancing crazy to the muffled playlist coming from your phone, sharing heated kisses, and needy touches. Or he would hop a fence and sneak you into a hotel swimming pool to go skinny dipping after pool hours. And then sometimes he would just take you to a party with his friends from his past.

Like tonight he was taking you to the beach which was closed after sundown but there was a bonfire happening and he had pretty much begged you to go with him. Now, even though you two spent most nights together he had only ever kissed you, he never tried to do more than that even though you wished he would cross that line.. you would beg for it if it wouldn’t be humiliating. So you two stayed friends that would sometimes make out.

You craved his attention. You loved the way he would look at you sometimes as if he knew a secret that you didn’t. That little cocky smirk he got when you would tell him a dirty joke you heard, like you could see the smutty thoughts flowing through his mind. You touched yourself to the thought of him. You just wanted him always and tonight was going to be the night you told him exactly how you felt and what you wanted.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Changbin walked a little ahead of you as you both walked from the parking lot onto the still warm sand. He grabbed your wrist lightly pulling you along, “Hurry, so we can get a good cold drink.” You only smiled and picked up the pace. “Patience Changbin, the party wont leave. It’s still going to be there, also I’m a bit nervous. These people are all your friends I wont know anyone there.” You said as you walked up beside him and Changbin dropped your wrist, which you instantly missed the warmth of his large hand on your skin.

“No, no, don’t get insecure now. You’re the funnest person I know and the prettiest.” He put his hands on your shoulders to make you look at him. “Just be yourself and people will love you, just as I do.” You know he didn’t mean it the way you wanted him to mean it but a small bloom of hope began in the pit of your stomach. Maybe he will reciprocate my feelings… you thought to yourself as his warm brown eyes searched yours.

You opened your mouth to begin to convey that you really wanted to tell him something important but of course a couple of his friends spotted you both and began to yell for you two to come over.

The closer you got to the party the louder the chatter and music became. The fire was huge and blazing in the middle of this dug out pit causing the warm summer night to feel even more warm. You followed Changbin as he greeted a bunch of people. And you didn’t expect Changbin to introduce you exactly but, you felt a little awkward when he began conversations and didn’t even acknowledge you were standing right beside him. What’s up with him, he never treats you like this. You question in your head but chose to just go with it. You didn’t mind being a wallflower as long as you were with him.

Eventually you two made your way to where the drinks were and he did grab two drinks, one for you and one for himself. Changbin turned to you as he sipped on his beer, “Are you okay?” You nodded and drank some of your beer. You winced at the bitter taste as it slid down your throat. You thought that if you just had a little liquid courage maybe you would loosen up and not be so uptight.

You watched as Changbin flitted around like a social butterfly. He was in his element, talking to everyone he knew and even people he didn’t know. The more awkward you felt the more you drank and only two hours in you had drank two beers and you were on your third. You weren’t sure where Changbin had run off to but it was pissing you off at this point.

He had never treated you like this, he had never left you to just fend for yourself with people you didn’t know. He was always there, a comfort for you. And yes, maybe you should be more independent but you came out to be with him not strangers.

Fuck it.. I’m going to dance. I can’t just stand here alone anymore. The thought crossed your mind as you finished that third beer and you just chucked the empty bottle in the sand before walking over to a spot near the fire where the music was blasting the loudest. You were not the most coordinated but you were buzzed enough to not care anymore.

You let the music just move you, not caring what you looked like to the other party goers around. Then suddenly a pair of hands engulfed your hips and you smirked thinking maybe Changbin had seen you and decided to join you but, when you turned around it was not him. The guy that was dancing with you was a tall, slim man that had dyed dark blue curly hair. He was cute but, not the one you wanted to be dancing with.

“No thanks” you said to the guy, your words slurring ever so slightly. “I want to be dancing with Changbin.” You said out loud, your inner thoughts slipping free of your usually guarded mouth. The man didn’t seem offended he nodded and pointed in the direction of the water where it was darker and more quiet. “I saw him head out there with a friend, I think.”

So you began to walk in that direction, all the while muttering to yourself how you were just going to tell him. Tell him everything. As you walked you could see a figure sitting down in the sand by the water. The waves crashing on the shore but not quite reaching him. You couldn’t help but smile as his figure grew larger and you could see that little smirk you loved on his lips.

“Hey, I -“ you began as you plopped down beside him on the sand. Changbin looked startled. His eyes growing a bit wide and he kept glancing out at the ocean. You were too tipsy to really notice what or who he was looking at until you heard a girls voice calling to him. “Binnie! It’s so cold!” The girl yelled as she came running up to him, soaking wet and only in her bra and panties.

You froze, your eyes looking at the girl who was now wrapping herself up in his jacket. You then looked over at Changbin and he couldn’t look you in the face. “Binnie, who’s this?” She innocently asked. Before Binnie could utter a word you shoved him and you shoved him hard. His muscly body was not easy to move but you were pissed, more so than you had ever been in your entire life.

“What the fuck, Changbin! You ditched me to come out here with her! And who the fuck calls you Binnie. No one calls you that!” You were yelling now and it took a second try but you stumbled to your feet. “I can’t fucking believe you!” You began to storm off in the opposite direction of the bonfire but Changbin followed you. You could hear his foot steps in the sand behind you.

“Come on, don’t be mad. I expected you to do the same. This is a party after all. It’s what people do. They hook up!” Changbin grabbed your arm gently, making you stop. You couldn’t take it anymore, the tears were rushing down your cheeks now, hot against the salty breeze coming off of the ocean. As you whirled around. You forcefully shook his hand off of you, “But I came here with you! I don’t want anyone else…”

Your voice was shaky and not as loud as it was before. You felt defeated and embarrassed that this was how your feelings came out to him. In a rush.. a drunken rush. “Oh come on, y/n. We aren’t dating. It’s not like we have an obligation to only be with one another.” Changbin blurted out, his eyes trained on you making you even more self conscious. You took a step back upon hearing his harsh words.

Slowly nodding in realization, “So none of it meant anything to you…” You watched his face fall a bit then he shook his head rapidly, “That’s not what I meant!” He yelled, anger seeping into his voice. “No! You don’t get to be mad, Changbin. All the sneaking out, the late night secrets, the heated kisses, staying up all night to watched the sunrise..may not have meant anything to you but, it meant EVERYTHING to me!”

Reaching up to tug at your hair in frustration you began to cry a little more. Maybe it was the alcohol but your emotions are running very high. You aren’t sobbing but the overwhelming urge to just sit in the sand and cry was very appealing. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.. that buzz between us. The way you look at me sometimes.. like you know.. like you feel it too.” Your voice was softer now, broken as you cried softly.

“Y/n, please don’t cry.” Changbin came to your side and gently took your wrists to pull you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you to give you one of his protective hugs that you loved so much. It would be easy to just fall back into it again. To let him comfort you and nothing would change. That would be the issue.. nothing would change.

In that moment you made a decision, you were going to choose you this time. No more chasing after a man who clearly was not going to do more than just string you along. “Stop.” You mumbled just as he kissed your forehead and you stepped out of his hold. “No more, I don’t want to stop seeing you but, all of this can’t be one sided. I can’t be strung along anymore. You may not realize what you’re doing but it’s very clear to me now. I’m just someone to touch and kiss and be with when you’re lonely.”

Changbin began to speak but you held up your hand to silence him. “This hurts, I don’t want to stop this but, it hurts more knowing I’m giving you all of me when I will only ever get the pieces of you that you want to give away.” You shook your head as you began to walk backwards. “Don’t call me, don’t text me. This stops now. I wont be a convenience anymore.” Now you were sobbing heavily and you could see the reality hit Changbin. That you really meant what you were saying.

Before you turned around to walk away, “I’m done waiting for you to feel the way I do.” You didn’t say goodbye, you simply turned away from him and walked back to the parking lot. After the car you had ordered came to pick you up and you were on your way back home is when you allowed yourself to break down. The man driving probably thought you were insane but your body had to let it out.

It was like experiencing a death. Your entire body felt it. You cried hard but, tried to stay as silent as possible. Your shoulders shaking as the tears fell, wetting not only your cheeks but, also streaming down your chin and neck, dripping onto your shirt. You had fallen for Changbin slowly and then rapidly, head over heels and this was the hardest thing you had ever had to do. You loved him but, he didn’t love you the way you needed.

You should have been proud of yourself for putting your heart first but all you could think was.. how would you live your days without him.. and then in the back of your mind you hoped maybe this would make him realize he needed you too.

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myuminji · 9 months

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"not the same."

A reincarnation AU where only Wolfwood remembers (based on my rambles at the end of prev post)

#something about losing the sensation of what you always had #like an empty space is carved out of your daily life #and it's always there ready to be filled. and it did! except the shape doesn't fill it completely #which leaves you craving for more from what could never be #mumble mumble #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #vashwood #myuminjiart

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sunnami · 3 months

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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killinfate · 6 months

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MORNINGS. (spoilers)

(found the gif on pinterest but the link said it was from tumblr and idk the acc that posted so if anyone knows lmk pls!)

MIKE SCHMIDT X READER

— AFTER THE INTERESTING EXPERIENCE AT FREDDY FAZBEAR’S PIZZERIA, MIKE’S LIFE WAS COMING TOGETHER.

Mike’s younger sister Abby remained in his custody, William was dead, Vanessa was receiving treatment in hospital, his mind was no longer plagued with the same repetitive nightmare and he’d finally gotten another job with no hiccups so far. He’d also got you.

You stayed over frequently and Abby adored you. You originally began as her babysitter, living conveniently next door. Mike asked you to babysit her and the two of you grew closer from then on yet there was attraction evident between each interaction. It was only until Mike’s experience at the pizzeria was when he finally spoke upon his interest in you, his near death experience making him more decisive and slightly more confident than he was before.

Luckily, this new job required no night shifts. However, he did have to wake early.

The alarm clock chimed at 6 o,clock sharp and he groaned, reaching over to the alarm clock to turn it off with his free arm, the other arm firmly wrapped around you.

He sighed before bringing his head back down to rest against the pillow and hold you closer, wrapping both his arms around you now. One of your legs rested over his waist and your arms rested loosely at his sides. Mike never pictured himself in love or to find it; never finding himself social enough to do so. You were his neighbour and he was obligated to be friendly to you in a sense but to develop a relationship with you was completely different.

He slowly opened his eyes, his hand coming to caress your hair. Your brows furrowed and your eyes remained closed, slightly annoyed he’d woken you up.

“Just because you’re in work early doesn’t mean I am.” You mumbled. A quiet laugh left Mike’s lips and his eyes widened slightly. “Damn, didn’t think you’d be that grumpy about it.” He replied, his voice slightly hoarse and sleepy.

“I wanted to say bye before I go.” Mike tells you, waiting for your eyes to open.

“Well goodbye.” You groan, turning over and leaving Mike’s embrace, your back now facing him. He sighed before wrapping his arm around your waist once more and laying closer to you. He sat up a little, enough to lean over and press a tender kiss behind your ear and neck. For someone who had lacked in relationships and physical touch he surely knew how to show affection.

“That was a shitty goodbye.” He tells you and a smile graces your lips at the disappointment evident in his voice.

“Come on.” He tugged at your shoulder lightly. You turned over and now lay on your back. Your eyes opened and met Mike’s deep brown ones. He was propped up on his arms, leaning slightly over you.

He looked to you, a soft smile on his lips before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes closed once more slowly and your hands came to caress his face, your fingers gently running over his cheeks. His hand brushed past the shirt you wore, coming to rest on your waist and his thumb traced circles into your skin.

The two of you kissed for a while, your lips kissing every inch of his; it’s what he craved every morning. Reluctantly, Mike pulled away from the kiss and leaned back to look at you.

“I love you.” He told you quietly. It’d taken him a while to say and he still didn’t feel entirely comfortable saying it but he wanted you to know he meant it.

“I love you too, but you’re gonna be late.” You say with a laugh. Mike averts his gaze to the clock and sighs before leaning down and giving you one more quick chaste kiss.

“Alright, alright. Remember Abby’s—“ you finished his sentence, knowing the usual routine. “—Abby’s lunch and she needs to be at school by eight thirty, I know.”

You usually looked after Abby in the mornings and whenever you could which helped Mike a lot and he appreciated you for it. “Thank you.” He tells you, giving your waist a light squeeze before letting go of it and getting out of bed.

He got dressed and you curled up in bed once more, shutting your eyes and turning away from the window where light streamed through the curtains. Mike looked back at you and walked over, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your forehead and cheek.

He loved you so much.

“Okay bye.” He whispered, watching a smile form on your lips after he kissed you. He smiled himself at the sight of you before leaving the room, longing for the weekend where he didn’t have to set any alarm and could remain in bed with you.

#mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fnaf movie #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #horror #horror imagine #mike schmidt x reader

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cordeliawhohung · 7 months

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ghost smut drabble. explicit, no major warnings, minors dni <3

hardly proofread just horny and practicing

Simon wants to see your face when you fuck.

He can't help the way he craves it. How your brows draw together and teeth sink into your lip when the tip of his cock presses against you. The sound of your moans is like a sirens call, and he wants to pull more of that song from you lips all while watching the fucked-out glossiness that covers your eyes.

Needless to say, because of this, he's not exactly a fan of taking you from behind. Sure, any guy would kill to bend you over and watch the plump flesh of your ass shake with each mind numbing thrust into your cunt, and Simon's no exception. It's just... different not being able to see your face. He prefers it if he can.

However

Things change when you buy that new big mirror to hang up on the wall in the bedroom. It's tall and nearly as wide as the bed is long. He questioned you why you even needed something like that, to which you scoff and offer that it's better than those simple, scrawny mirrors that dollar stores sell.

He didn't get the appeal of it until he had you on your hands and knees, palms digging into the plush duvet as you bent forward in front of him, ass flush to the thick skin of his thighs. He always reaches deeper in that position, and your whines are only slightly muffled as your bite your lip.

And then he looks in the mirror. Not of himself, but of you. How your face shines in the dim lighting of the bedroom, how your body is so perfectly on display for him. He can't pretend that he doesn't like being able to really see how he fits behind you, how he can see himself fucking you. It gives him a power trip he never knew he craved.

His hips rock with some newfound urgency that you had never felt in him before. It's fast and needy, but his eyes are only on your face even as your hands slip on the blanket and your torso lowers because of it. It's good and intense and you feel your mind quickly becoming slush as you slip even further.

Your instincts tell you to slip further, to just lay with your breasts pushed against the mattress and ass up in the air and let him continue, to let him bring you to that high that you come closer to with every moan that leaves your lips. But your cheek hardly brushes against the duvet before you feel Simon reach around you. His fingers find your jaw and he grabs you and gently lifts your head up.

"Nuh uh," he grunts as the lewd sounds of skin on skin continue in a frenzy behind you.

Once more you use your hands to hold you up as Simon guides you to face the mirror. You whine and feel your body protest, but with your mind so dazed you can't help but follow his lead. Your eyes find his, and you can see how dark they are as he drinks you in through the silvery sheen of the mirror. You'd never seen what your face looked like when you were like that, fucked out and nothing but a moaning, trembling mess as he pounded into you, but fuck you could get used to the view of him behind you like that.

"Eyes here, yeah?" he tells you as his thumb slides from along the side of your jaw over to your lips. He presses the thick digit against your lower lip, and you instinctively part them slightly before his hand returns back to your hips. "Wanna see every expression on that pretty face of yours."

trying to get my smut muscles working again (they were never working in the first place but take this as i work up the courage for what i'm about to write for the next part of soft spot.....)

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost mw2 smut #ghost mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #cod x reader smut

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scoobysnakz · 3 months

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loser miguel who, at first, feels so much shame he could be sick, but when your breath shortens at the sight of his reddened eyes, that guilt is replaced with a stronger, more persistent hunger.

loser miguel who can’t get his hands off his cock; you look too pretty to stop now. your wide, shocked eyes glued to him, flickering between the desperate expression on his face and his calloused hands encasing his girthy length. that look of pure shock only serves to make him more ravenous, more crazed, more infatuated with you.

loser miguel who watches, mesmerized as you walk over to him, your shiny eyes drinking in the sight of his leaky cock. he can practically smell your desire, and god, it’s making him insane.

“por favor, te necesito,” he whines, head lolling to the side.

“migs… is that my lab coat?” part of you can’t bare to hear the answer but that other, sick and twisted part that craves validation, is desperate to hear him answer yes in that panty wetting accent.

“can’t stop.” his voice is harsher now, not mean but it carries a certain huskiness that makes your mind fuzzy. “fuck, need your pretty lips, mami.”

loser miguel whose heart nearly stops as you sink down onto your knees, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and hands clenched into fists. you can’t bring yourself to look at it, it has an almost godly presence, which you know is stupid, but it’s part of him, part of miguel.

he keeps stroking his cock, you on your knees beneath only serving to make him harder and more needy. his core aches with longing, a silent declaration of desire in his eyes as he fights the urge to buck his hips into your face.

loser miguel who gets an automatic ego boost at the way you stare at his cock. miguel isn’t a lazy man, far from it, but that isn’t to say he shaves. almost every inch of this man is covered in thick hair that resembles the same darkness as the chocolatey mop on his head. and he can see the way it goes straight to your cunt.

a few times, you’ve been blessed with the view of his happy trail on the odd occasion he’s stretched with only a t-shirt on. but never have you seen past the bulky thighs which are infamously known all throughout the crinkled pages of your diary, that you’ve had countless dreams of being trapped between, and fuck, do you feel like you’ve missed out.

his cock is huge, at least eight inches, with balls that hang heavy, twitching to release their load into your pretty little mouth.

loser miguel who has to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a loud moan as you press your soft lips to his rosy tip, his precum leaving your lips looking temptingly glossy.

you drag your tongue across your lips, savouring the tangy taste as it melts on your tastebuds. you, carefully, lower your mouth around his shaft, forcing your jaw to go slack as a feeble attempt to accommodate his size.

the feeling of your tongue, flat against the underside of his cock, sends his mind racing. this is what he’s been dreaming of, craving, for months. you are so perfect, so pretty and perky, how could he not have an insatiable need for you ?

the only light in the entire lab is the late afternoon sun leaking through the gaps in the blinds, leaving it dimly lit with the sun rays shining on miguel’s tanned complexion.

thick strands of his dark hair frame his perfectly chiseled face in an almost angelic halo. his soft, plump lips are parted ever so slightly, so that you can get a spine chilling view of his fangs.

loser miguel who’s never felt anything like this before. try as you might, you can’t fit his entire length in your mouth, and somehow, this is the closest to heaven he’s ever been.

he can’t count the amount of times he’s pumped his cock to the idea of this, you, one your knees pleasing him so prettily.

“mierda, just like that, just like that,” he croons, one hand sliding down to grip the back of our head.

you shine under his approval, the burn in your jaw suddenly disappearing as you push your mouth further down his cock, your nose is buried into the thick tufts of hair on the base of his cock.

you’re gagging and drooling all over him but right now you can only focus on miguel’s raspy breathing and muttered praise.

loser miguel who can only stand there watch as his cock falls victim to the talents of your mouth, his hips stuttering in a pathetic attempt to hold off from fucking your throat. miguel wants to make this last, have you looking up at him through adoring eyes forever- if he could take a picture he would.

prev < > next

a/n: smut clearly isn’t my forte but i tried 🙃

tag list: @lacedinweb22 @xxyaoi-nationxx @farrowroyale @mynamesstevenwithav @m4dyy @pinkismylife @kenz-ee @queerponcho @mcmiracles @nic-stars @ella-unenchanted04 @basedpear @rhythmloid @safixiovi @braverthanthenewworld @sad-author-san

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slutforln4 · 6 days

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take my breath away.

🖇️ lando norris x reader

🖇️ in which watching your boyfriend work out results in some new experiences…

🖇️ warnings: SMUT!!! mdni, choking, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it babes), a short one

🖇️ author’s note: thanks to the lovely anon that requested this 🤍 was a fun one to write (may have accidentally self-indulged with the hand appreciation…

You weren’t sure when things changed.

One day, you were fine with the mere touch of his fingers across your shoulders, collarbones and chest, with no need for anything more. You were fine with being loved gently. You were enamoured of the way he could make you feel fragile, caringly caressing your body with the weight of a feather.

The other, you wanted his hands holding onto you like you’d disappear if he let go. Like he’d lose you if he didn’t dig his nails into your flesh, leaving marks of nothing but his hungry love for you.

Maybe your desires for him changed when you got to watch him in the gym, calloused fingers gripping the equipment with a strength he’d never used in your sight before. Your eyes glued to the way his face morphed into a pained expression and his arms dripped sweat, you felt something change.

The intricacy of his veins, the way they formed shapes under the skin of his hands, made you thirsty. You felt the need to watch as his hands held your body as tightly as he held the bench, his neck constricted under the weight of the trainer pulling the bands attached to his head.

Thirst for your lover and being in public never seemed to get along.

You felt the urge to walk over there and straddle him, your hands nestling in your favourite spot at the nape of his neck, where his curls started. Instead, you stayed put on the floor, sipping on water to try and quench the thirst. It didn’t help that Lando shot you a small grin paired with a wink, only increasing the number of flutters happening in your body.

It took you until you got home, hands nearly shaking with want, to kiss him. Hungry, aggressive, everything Lando wasn’t used to.

“Woah, love,” he mumbled against your lips, confusion lacing his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you,” the simple request and reason for the rapid wandering of your hands made Lando confused. He’s never seen you so needy and it turned him on just thinking about it. “So bad.”

Lando had a feeling about what had caused this.

He had noticed your piercing gaze on him the second he started working out, your eyes never leaving his neck, hands or lips. It made him want to fuck you right then and there, but he never thought you’d crave the same.

By the time you got to the bedroom, your clothes were scattered messily across the floor leading to the door. Only your drenched panties were left, soaking up every bit of your need for him. Lando watched as you pushed him onto the bed, hands trailing his chest as you pulled down your underwear.

He felt the urgency of your movements hastily pulling on him, tugging his boxers down to his knees, not bothering to take them fully off.

When you straddle his thighs, hand wrapped around his length and slowly stroking him, Lando swore he had died and gone to heaven. The mere sight of you so needy for him was enough to make him fold. It takes a few pumps for him to feel his stomach tighten and he grasps your wrist, green eyes locked on yours.

You take that as a sign to drag his tip past your folds, so wet and so ready for him. When you eased down on him, a shuddering breath and a whimper left your lips at the feeling of him filling you up.

Lando’s lips find the cusp of your neck and shoulder, softly kissing you. It was just the way you liked it, gentle and slow, but you needed more. Lando knew that the second your fingers tugged on his curls and pulled him away from you. Your lips crashed onto his, aggression and hunger still so evident.

The second his tongue slipped past your lips, your hips buckled and a whimper slipped off your tongue. Lando’s hands grip your hips, harder than what you’ve ever felt and it turns you on to know he wants to be rough. He’s always wanted to, but he never had it in him to accidentally hurt you.

The second his teeth bit down on your bottom lip, you knew this was exactly what you wanted. Lando’s hands creeped up your body when you managed to set your own pace, hips crashing against his. You felt his fingertips ghost your neck, barely a touch, and yet you wanted more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips, as if the plea would make any sense for someone who doesn’t know what’s going on in your brain. It’s a mess. Thoughts of what Lando could do, what he could have done if he hadn’t held back all these times, swirl inside your mind until they evaporate.

Lando kisses you gentler now, assuming you wanted him to, but it’s quite the opposite. When you continue kissing him with the same aggression, he furrows his brows and asks, “please what, baby?”

“Choke me,” you whisper, fingers tightening around his wrist. Lando watches as you tilt your head back the second you pull his hand to your neck.

He’s gentle at first. His fingertips barely touch you, the fear of hurting you creeping back in. Lando doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if you were to get hurt under his supervision, let alone by him. He’d never forgive himself.

But when he sees your lips part, eyes half-lidded and inviting, he goes feral.

The air gets stuck in your throat when Lando’s fingers dig into your skin. The thought of how good you look with his hand around your neck makes you whimper, the knot in your belly tightening.

“You feel so good, baby,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing past yours. You chase the feeling of his mouth on yours when he pulls away. “So fucking good.”

Lando feels the knot in his belly tightening and he can tell you’re close, too, when he flips you over and you’re laying on your back, Lando is still thrusting into you.

You couldn’t get over the view of his chain dangling from his neck, eyebrows knitted together, gravelly moans of your name leaving his lips and his biceps contracting while choking you. It all seemed like too much and you whispered his name like a prayer, begging to be touched.

Lando’s finger found your clit as he still thrusted into you, helping you reach the peak of your high. As he felt your walls contract around his length, sending bolts of pleasure at lightspeed through his veins, his fingers curled at the base of your neck and you whimpered, lips parted and tears pricking your eyes.

Fuck, he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen you do.

Mere moments pass of his nails grazing your neck and his thrusts start getting sloppy, before he comes undone. It takes a second for each of you to catch your breath, a playful smirk playing on your lips when Lando’s piercing green eyes look at you with concern.

Lando helps you up, leading the way to the bathroom and he starts up the bath for you. When the water is warm enough and Lando tells you to, you get in the water and he sits across from you. He pulls you close, your back to his chest as he gently moves the hair from your neck.

“Oh, baby,” his fingers touch your skin again, this time ever so gentle. “Your neck’s all red now.”

He sounds so concerned and upset with himself, and you know it’ll eat him up for the rest of the week, or as long as it takes your bruises to fade. Lando looks miserable once you turn around.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him, gentle hand on his cheek. “I wanted this and you were so, so good with me.”

Lando’s lips curl into a sly smile. “Yeah? And what caused it?”

You took a moment to answer, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as a crimson red crawled up your face. “I don’t know. Your hands, I guess.”

Lando looked at you fondly, eyes gentle and affectionate as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you liked my hands that much, you should’ve just told me.” A beat of silence follows. “I could’ve taken care of you in so many other ways.”

And, later that night, he made a point to show you just how good his calloused hands can make you feel.

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sluttywoozi · 19 days

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A New Rhythm | suga x f!reader x woozi

Yoongi has a soft spot for his protege, Jihoon, but you never thought it would extend to sharing you. Not until he tells you Jihoon is a virgin and asks if you'd like the be the one to change that.

You can't say you're opposed to the idea.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~7.8k | Pairing: myg x f!reader x ljh | Genre: smut

Warnings: dom!yoongi, virgin!jihoon, mentor!yoongi, yoongi tells jihoon what to do and jihoon listens like the good boy he is (most of the time), mentions of f. masturbation, oral f. rec., spitting, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, piv sex with a condom, restraining, throat holding, piv sex without a condom, oral m. rec., deepthroating, cum swallowing, creampie, plsplspls inbox if i missed anything!

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, same age as yoongi, referred to with fem pronouns/descriptors (she/her, girlfriend), has an iud, wap

You think you’re losing your mind.

That’s the only possible explanation as to why you’re hovering outside of Yoongi’s home studio at four in the morning, arguing with yourself about whether or not you should knock on the door.

He’s been in there for hours, didn’t even come to bed last night, which might explain the plethora of dreams you had. They’re what woke you up, and the absence of Yoongi is what brought you out from under the warm covers and into the chilly night air.

Yoongi’s studio is a small building in your backyard, with no windows and perfect acoustics. He had it built last year, when he finally got tired of going in and out of the city at all hours to work, and he even gave you free reign of the exterior. Now that the garden is blooming and the stones leading to the door have settled into the ground, it really feels like part of your home.

Or it does in the daylight, anyway.

You’ve never come out here at night before, because you’ve never had a need to. You know Yoongi will come inside when he’s finished working so you usually leave him to it, usually try not to interrupt him, but tonight, something is different.

Tonight, you need him.

Desperately.

It’s not like he’s neglecting you, it’s just that he’s been working on a personal project so a lot of his time is spent in the studio, and when he finally calls it a day, all he wants to do is eat and collapse into your arms. You can take care of yourself, quite well, in fact, but nothing beats Yoongi’s touch, nothing.

Every dream you had in your fitful five hours of rest was filled with him; his hands on your body, his mouth between your legs, his cock deep inside of you. It all felt hazy and rose-colored but somehow so real, and when you woke to an empty bed, it was almost heartbreaking.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been ten days since he last fucked you, not that you’ve been counting…

You’d go back to bed if you could, but you already tried to satisfy your craving for him and all that did was leave you wet and wanting him even more, which is why you only feel a little bit guilty when your hand raises and raps twice on the wood in front of you.

It takes a few seconds for the door to open, and when it does, your eyes grow wide and your fingers fly to the hem of your nightie, your suddenly freezing legs reminding you just how short it is.

If it were Yoongi, you wouldn’t care, you’d probably even hike it up a little bit more, but it’s not Yoongi.

It’s Jihoon, your boyfriend’s protege.

“Um,” Jihoon starts, his eyes trailing over your exposed body before snapping back up to your face, a flush reddening the skin of his neck and ears. “Yoongi’s in the middle of a recording session so he didn’t hear the door. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah, um, everything’s fine,” you stammer, because what the hell else can you do?

It’s not like you can admit to someone who’s not your boyfriend that you’re dizzy with desire, especially not when that someone is your boyfriend’s adorable mentee.

Jihoon is barely 27, but he’s been producing since he was in his teens. Yoongi kept an eye on his career for a while and eventually decided to take him under his wing when he noticed he wasn’t advancing in the field like he deserved to be. They’ve been working together for a little under a year now, and Jihoon has become a regular fixture at your house.

You include him in your meals, in your game nights, and even in your karaoke, though he effortlessly outsings you both every single time.

But that doesn’t mean you can tell him you’re here because you need to get fucked.

If Yoongi were the one to answer the door, you wouldn’t have needed to speak, he would have seen that shine to your eyes and known immediately what you needed. You didn’t even know Jihoon was here or you wouldn’t have knocked at all.

Now here you are staring at each other, Jihoon’s blush traveling down under his collar as you shiver in your nightdress, unable to think of even one viable explanation as to why you’re up at four in the morning.

“Babe? What are you doing out there? It’s cold as fuck,” Yoongi appears behind Jihoon, his brows furrowed and his gaze bewildered.

He takes one good look at you and that’s it. He knows.

You can tell by the smirk that’s quirking one side of his mouth up and the heat that flashes in his tired eyes, the sight of both making you bite your lip and twist your fingers in the hem of your nightie.

“We’re gonna take a break, Jihoon. Let’s all go up to the house for a bit, yeah?” Yoongi proposes, though you know it was more of an order than an offer.

You turn mechanically and force one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel two sets of eyes on you instead of one.

That’s the theme of the night, apparently, as you find yourself making tea for three, still clad in your pajamas. You would have gone to get a robe but Yoongi caught your hand before you left and asked for some oolong, saying that it’s never as good when he makes it.

While the tea is steeping, you sit on Yoongi’s right side, Jihoon on his left, and try to keep from squirming at the feeling of the cold wooden chair against your hot center. You didn’t bother to put on underwear, sure that Yoongi would just fuck you right there in his studio, and you’re positive he would have, if Jihoon wasn’t there.

But he was, he is, and you have no idea what Yoongi’s game is but you know it’s starting to make you feel a bit crazy, like your skin is too tight for your bones and your heart is too big for your chest.

Then he speaks, and all the blood in your body reaches its boiling point.

“Jihoon was just telling me that he feels like he can’t write sex into his songs because he’s never had it before. Why don’t we help him out with that?”

Jihoon collapses into himself, groaning and cursing, his face buried in his arms where they rest on the table, his muscles strained with tension and his skin bright red.

Yoongi just smiles serenely and looks over to you, raising an eyebrow and lifting his chin like he’s challenging you.

You can’t respond yet, not with the ringing in your ears and the images in your mind, flashbulb memories of how long Jihoon’s fingers are and how voraciously he eats and, worst of all, how he looks when he comes over straight from the gym, his hair still damp from the shower and his veins still popping from the workout.

All things you’ve thought about innocuously, no real intention behind them, now given life, meaning, by Yoongi’s words.

You tilt your head at him, trying to figure out if this is a test, but you don’t see any hint of deception in his eyes. All you see is your boyfriend of four years, wanting to bring someone into the bed you share, wanting to teach someone what it means to give and take pleasure.

No, not just someone, but Jihoon, specifically.

He has a soft spot for the kid and that’s obvious, but you never expected it to extend to sharing you.

However, you’re not… opposed… to the idea.

If anything, you feel yourself get just a bit hotter, just a bit wetter, imagining the both of them in your bedroom.

You know Yoongi can tell how you’re feeling, you’ve never been able to hide a thing from him, and when that satisfied smile stretches his lips, you give up and give in.

“What are your rules?” You ask softly, your eyes darting to Jihoon when he snaps his head up and stares at you, wide eyed and open mouthed.

“He has to wear a condom,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly, before continuing, “Other than that, I have none. What about you?”

You didn’t expect him to turn the question around on you, but you’re grateful he did.

“Same as you,” you respond, before looking to Jihoon. “What are your thoughts?”

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and Yoongi, before he answers, “I - I don’t know. I’m embarrassed, and a little bit annoyed,” he levels a glare at Yoongi. “But I’m… I mean if you’re okay with it, then… then yes, I want this. I’ll wear a condom, I’ll do whatever.”

Yoongi doesn’t even pretend to care about the tea.

He just rises from his chair and extends a hand toward you, waiting for you to take it before nodding at Jihoon, expecting you to reach out to him. You hold your hand out and he grasps it, your fingers intertwining as Yoongi pulls you to the stairs. In between them, you carefully move up the steps, feeling somewhat like you’re on your way to the place of no return.

You know you can stop this at any time, but you fear you won’t want to.

You fear that once you get a taste of Jihoon, of both of them together, that’s all you’ll want.

Yoongi must know, he knows everything about you, and if he wasn’t okay with it, he wouldn’t have offered. So when you cross over the threshold and he lets go of your hand to sit in the chair occupying the corner of your room, you know that he must be anticipating that outcome, and you know that he must be alright with it.

Which makes it easier to turn to Jihoon and cup his cheeks to draw him into a kiss, one that makes him gasp against your lips before he drops a hand to your hip and starts to kiss you back.

He seems experienced enough at this, you think, his plush mouth soft against yours and his tongue tentative where it brushes along the seam of your lips. You open up for him with ease, swallowing his sounds and responding with your own soft hums to show him you’re comfortable.

Your tongue glides against his and he moans, sucking at it with gentle pulses that make your core throb, before you pull away and press a hand to his chest to stop him from following you.

“Let’s move to the bed?” You suggest, perhaps because your knees feel the slightest bit weak but mainly because you’ve been desperate to get Yoongi’s body on top of yours all night. Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, but you think he’ll feel almost as good.

Jihoon nods, his chest rising and falling as he tries to regulate his breathing, waiting for you to climb up and get comfortable before setting a knee on the covers.

“Take your clothes off,” Yoongi calls out from the corner. “She probably wants to see you.”

Jihoon glances over and then looks at you, raising a brow. You shrug shyly and nod, your eyes lowering to his chest as he starts to pull his sweater up. More and more pale skin is revealed, and by the time the fabric clears his head, your gaze is locked on the defining lines of his abdominals. He unties his sweats and pushes them down, stepping out of the cotton and standing before you in just his boxer briefs.

His dick is hard, pressing against the fabric, but you don’t have long to look before he settles on top of you, his elbows bracketing your head and his knees straddling your thighs. His lips find yours again and soon enough, you’re lost in him. He kisses you so attentively, adjusting to your every move, your every breath. It’s not long before you’re squirming beneath him, wanting for more.

“You’re gonna eat her out next,” Yoongi instructs, his voice distant but consuming, echoing in your mind like a looped track.

Jihoon breaks away from you, his eyes heavy lidded and his lips kiss-swollen. He sits back on his knees when you shift up onto your elbows, giving you room to pull your nightie up and off, leaving you bare from head to toe.

His eyes traverse the whole of your body, lingering on your breasts before they land between your thighs, his stare weighty, nearly tangible on you. The thought that you might be the first woman he’s seen naked in person is a heady one, enough to give you the confidence to slide your legs out from between his and spread them on the bed, showing him exactly what he’ll be working with.

His breaths come faster as he gazes at you, slowly moving down to lay on his stomach between your legs, his mouth just inches from your pussy when Yoongi says, “Spit on it.”

“What?” Jihoon questions, turning back to stare at Yoongi in confusion, missing the way you squirm at Yoongi’s instruction.

“You heard me, spit on it. She’s into it.”

“I- No, I’m not gonna fuckin- I’m not spitting on her, that’s ru-”

“Fine, if you won’t, I will,” Yoongi rolls his eyes and rises from his seat, taking a few steps to the bed and pushing at Jihoon’s shoulder when he doesn’t move out of the way.

Yoongi braces his hands on your knees and shoves them further apart, his eyes coasting up your body before they land on yours, a wry smile stretching his lips before he purses them and spits on your pussy. His saliva trails over your clit and down to your entrance, making you gasp and making your cunt clench, your hand shooting down to weave into his hair when he starts to pull back.

“See? Told you,” he murmurs to Jihoon, grasping your wrist and waiting for you to release his hair before stepping away and returning to his chair in the corner.

Your eyes find Jihoon, who looks like he’s been struck. He shakes it off and fills the space between your legs again, flat on his belly with a determined glint to his eye. You can feel his breaths as his mouth gets closer and closer to you, before finally, his tongue drags over you from cunt to clit.

He takes his time learning you, sucking at your folds and dipping into your entrance, never staying in one place for long. He’s making little sounds like he loves the taste of you, the vibrations traveling through your pussy straight to your buzzing brain, straight to the part of you that yearns to be set free.

You long to sink your fingers into his hair and drag him where you want him, take your pleasure from him like he’s a toy, but you know this is a precarious situation, and you’re not going to be the one that tips it out of balance.

So you let him explore, let him figure it out on his own, setting aside the fact that you’ve been aching for hours already. This is Jihoon’s first time, you can stand to not be greedy for once in your life.

Yoongi seems to disagree, telling Jihoon, “Find her clit and suck it, or she’ll never cum.”

You would glare at him for rushing Jihoon, you really would, but then Jihoon listens, his mouth searching until he discovers that bundle of nerves and wraps his lips around it, giving experimental sucks that quickly have your back arching and your toes curling.

“Y-you can, um, put a fing-,” You try to speak but can’t seem to get the words out, not when Jihoon’s mouth is so soft and wet and his tongue is so agile from years of playing the clarinet, the tip lapping at your clit in between pulses of his lips.

“Baby, I’ll tell him what to do, you just lay back and enjoy, okay?” Yoongi says in a soothing tone, making your eyes flicker open so you can see him. You know he wants you to answer him so you force your head to move up and down in a nod, melting into the bed when he sends you that indulgent, proud little smile.

“Jihoon, start with two fingers, she likes to feel full. Palm up,” Yoongi instructs Jihoon, his voice more distant, less affectionate now that he’s not talking to you.

Jihoon’s fingertips glide through your arousal, dipping into your entrance and starting to push inside. You’re still a bit stretched out from taking care of yourself earlier so there’s barely any resistance, his fingers sinking in slowly but surely.

His tongue stutters against you, a weak groan escaping him as your cunt molds to his digits. You squeeze around them just to hear that sound again, biting back a grin when the next groan is louder.

“Feels good, doesn’t she? Now imagine that around your cock,” Yoongi smirks smugly, his eyes caught on the blush rising up the back of Jihoon’s neck. “Gotta make her cum first.”

With renewed fervor, Jihoon sucks at your throbbing clit, his fingers twitching inside of you but not moving yet.

“Now you’re gonna find her g-spot. Curl your fingers and tap until you feel a different texture, you’ll know you’ve got it when she gets wetter.”

Ever the quick study, Jihoon puts Yoongi’s words to action, his fingers crooking and rubbing along your front wall in search of the patch that can make you gush. He encounters it soon enough, grazing the erogenous zone with his fingertips and tapping into it when you gasp and clench down.

You do get wetter, just like Yoongi said, and you can’t help but move with Jihoon’s fingers as he starts to slide them in and out, the tips hooking into your sweet spot on every thrust. You should have expected him to have perfect rhythm and lithe, talented fingers just like Yoongi does, because maybe then it wouldn’t be a surprise when you feel the stirrings of heat deep in your belly.

Would it be embarrassing to cum so soon? Yoongi can get you there in five minutes flat but this is Jihoon, should you try to hold out for longer so he has more time to practice? What if he’s disappointed that you-

“Baby, stop worrying. Just cum when you want to,” Yoongi says softly, and not for the first time, you feel blessed to have a partner who knows you inside and out.

You don’t need his permission to cum but now that you have it, you can feel your climax building even faster, feel it growing, glowing inside of you as Jihoon moans into your pussy, as if he’s echoing Yoongi’s words.

That and the flawless grind of his fingertips into your g-spot are what throw you over the edge, darkness eclipsing your vision as you tumble into a pleasure so deep, you can feel it in your bones.

It races through your bloodstream, electric and razor sharp, setting all of your nerves on edge and stealing every molecule of air in your lungs. You gasp through it, clenching your fingers in the pillow beneath your head so you don’t reach down, tangle them in his hair, and hold him to you until he’s as breathless as you are.

You think you could cum again if he just keeps his tongue curled around your clit and his fingers digging into your g-spot like this. Hell, you’d probably cum even harder, get even wetter for him, even hotter.

It’s so close you can almost taste it, but he starts to pull away and you swallow down the cry of protest that rises in your throat, fighting off disappointment that you fear you don’t have a right to. Yoongi likes to go for more than one but Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, and you can’t expect him to behave the same way.

Yoongi does, evidently, because he says as if it should be obvious, “Keep going.”

“What? She already-”

“She can cum again, keep going.”

When Jihoon looks up at you for confirmation, Yoongi heaves a beleaguered sigh and ambles to the bed, placing a knee on the mattress for stability before leaning over Jihoon’s shoulder and gripping the back of his neck, pushing and holding him down.

Jihoon is more than strong enough to break free if he wants to, which makes it even sweeter when he closes his eyes and dives back into you, one of his hands scooping under your thigh to pull it up onto his shoulder. Now you’re the one holding him down, and Yoongi’s lips stretch in a satisfied smile, like Jihoon has finally done something to be proud of, before he loosens his grasp and returns to his chair.

You’ve lost some momentum in the seconds without stimulation, but you can’t escape the image of your boyfriend shoving his protege’s face into your cunt and that’s almost enough to get you right back where you were.

It helps that Jihoon seems to be insatiable now, though whether he’s desperate for you or desperate to prove himself to Yoongi, you don’t know. It doesn’t really matter either way, not with his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue digging up under the hood to lap directly at the nerves. His fingers join in too, fucking into you harder and faster, beckoning out enough arousal that you can feel it dripping down your perineum.

The sounds are obscene, the wet suction of his mouth and the squelching of his fingers bringing heat to your cheeks. You wonder if Jihoon can hear or if your thighs are muffling the noises, part of you hoping they are and most of you hoping they aren’t.

You want him to hear what he’s doing to you, want him to know that he’s pleasing you, that his efforts are appreciated, which is why you finally decide to stop holding back.

Your hands skate down your body and delve into his hair, pulling his face even deeper into your pussy as you whimper long and loud. “There she is,” Yoongi murmurs, barely audible with your voice ringing in the air.

Jihoon groans earnestly in response, his hips twitching against the bed and his fingers spasming inside of you before they stop fucking in and out and instead start prodding your g-spot, rubbing and tapping and grinding until you lock down around them, cumming with a gush and a shout.

He doesn’t stop this time, relentless in the pursuit of pulling every last bit of bliss out of you as if he’s learned his lesson. Yoongi always says that Jihoon takes direction well, and you’re honored to experience the evidence of it yourself.

Honored and dizzy, if you’re being truthful.

Your head spins, your pussy growing sensitive and your pleasure growing sharp, almost stinging as he continues to batter your front wall with his fingertips and stab his tongue into your overworked clit.

“Jihoon,” you whine brokenly, drawing out his name and gripping his hair tighter, unsure of whether you want to push him away or pull him closer.

“Don’t stop,” Yoongi calls out, but it sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe you are, every noise in the room muted and dull compared to the roaring in your ears, the rushing of your blood in your veins as your heart races in your chest.

“Maybe you’ll make her-”

Time slows down when Jihoon grunts his assent into you, the vibration just enough to send you spiraling into a euphoria so acute, it brings tears to your eyes. Your vision whites out and you think you scream, and then you’re levitating, no longer on the bed, perhaps not even on the planet anymore.

When your soul returns to your body and you blink your watery eyes open, the first thing you see is Jihoon. He’s still between your legs but now he’s bright red, his chest heaving as he fights to breathe, your arousal covering him from his cheeks down to his sternum.

You would feel nervous about his reaction but as soon as your eyes meet his, he’s climbing up over you and pressing his swollen lips to yours, his kiss ravenous and his tongue soaked with you.

When he pulls away, you’ve got your own essence smeared all over your mouth, and you’re not even startled to feel a familiar hand in your hair. The hand tugs your head to the side and you let your eyes flutter closed, anticipating the swipe of Yoongi’s tongue over your bottom lip. He loves how you taste, even if it’s not directly from the source.

You can feel Jihoon’s eyes on you as Yoongi licks your face clean, and you wonder if he thinks he’s going to get the same treatment.

He might, honestly.

But not tonight, it seems, as Yoongi smacks a kiss onto your lips and lets go of your hair, reaching in the bedside table for the condoms you haven’t used since you got your IUD placed a few months ago.

“You didn’t blow your load, right?” Yoongi glances at Jihoon, raising an eyebrow teasingly and laughing at the way Jihoon glares and says, “No, I’m still fucking hard, thanks for asking.”

Out of loyalty to your boyfriend, you won’t point out that Yoongi actually did blow his load the first time he ever made you squirt.

“You still up for it, baby? Not too sore or sleepy?” Yoongi crouches next to you and cups your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone and gazing at you with gentle, patient eyes.

“I’m still up for it,” you smile peacefully, watching as he hands Jihoon the condom and taking the opportunity to stretch, reaching your arms up above your head and pointing your toes, a soft keening sound leaving you as you relax into the bed again.

When your eyes find Jihoon and Yoongi, both of them are staring at your tits, a dazed look on their faces that makes them appear even more alike.

Yoongi snaps out of it first, blinking rapidly and readjusting in the chair, making you notice for the first time just how hard he is.

You knew he’d have to be into the idea of watching you fuck someone else to propose this in the first place, but you didn’t expect him to be so wrought with desire. You can see it on his face now that you’re really looking at him, the passion in his shadowed eyes and the lustful clench of his jaw giving him away.

You bite back a smile and turn your gaze to Jihoon just in time to watch as he slides off the bed and pushes his underwear down. His cock pops up then hangs heavily, the head blushed red and the length wrapped in veins. He’s similar in size to Yoongi, maybe a bit thicker and slightly shorter, and you’re relieved to know both that the condom will fit and that he won’t stretch you beyond your limits.

Finally, you look at his face again, only to find him staring at you, his eyes staying locked with yours as he brings the condom packet up to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth. At first, you think he’s trying (and succeeding) to be sexy, but then you realize his hands are trembling, just a little, just enough to relay the nerves he’s kept hidden.

“I’ll put it on,” you tell him as you extend a hand and wait for him to drop the condom in your palm, beckoning him forward with your other hand until he climbs back up on the bed and settles on his knees in front of you.

Slowly, you reach out and take hold of his cock, not reacting to the stilted gasp and muted swear that escapes Jihoon though you want to coo and kiss his cheek, he’s so adorable. You pinch the tip and roll the condom on with ease, ensuring it’s snug at the base before giving his hip a squeeze and laying back.

He follows you and braces his hands on either side of your head, his eyes heavy lidded and his cheeks flushed as he leans down to kiss you. His cock drags over your thigh before you spread your legs and hitch them up on his hips, one of your hands snaking between your bodies to position him at your entrance.

Jihoon takes in a deep, shuddering breath before beginning to push forward, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth dropping open as he feels the heat of you around his cock for the first time. The condom is a foreign sensation after all these weeks of taking Yoongi bare, and the fact that it’s Jihoon inside you instead of him is even more odd, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good.

Because it does, he does, especially when you remember that it’s been ten days since you had anything but a vibrator. Jihoon is warm, and thick, and real, and best of all, he’s holding back whimpers, his eyes closed and his face screwed up in pleasure, his hips jerking into yours in little thrusts like he can’t bear to keep still.

When he bottoms out, he collapses to his elbows, leaving his chest pressed against yours and his face just inches away, every microscopic change in his expression obvious to you with him so close.

You can tell he’s steeling himself to pull out, his jaw clenching and his brow furrowing as he draws his hips back slowly, his cock leaving the warm clutch of your pussy until only the head remains. You don’t even think he’s breathing, his cheeks turning red and his face growing pained, like it feels so good, it hurts.

He slides back in and you make the mistake of squeezing down, and that’s when he stutters, “F-fuck, I can’t- ‘m sorry, I’m gonna fucking-”

His cock jerks and twitches and there’s a muted burst of warmth inside of you, one that’s contained in rubber as he tips into the abyss, his forehead dropping down to rest on your collarbone and his body shaking on top of yours.

His gasps sound more like sobs, his beautiful, diminutive cries of pleasure making you flutter around him, prolonging his orgasm until he’s hissing through clenched teeth and digging his hips into yours as if in retribution.

He starts to soften inside of you and you’re content to let him rest and recuperate, but Yoongi has other ideas.

“Get up,” he commands, making your eyes flick over to him, a glower overtaking your face when he repeats himself. “Jihoon, get up.”

Jihoon reaches down and grips the base of his cock as he withdraws from you, holding the condom in place and cringing when he fully leaves your pussy. He slips the condom off and ties a clumsy knot, tossing it in the waste basket that sits under Yoongi’s bedside table before shuffling off the bed.

He doesn’t look at you, and you wonder if he’s too embarrassed or if he thinks he’ll be met with disappointment. Maybe both, and Yoongi certainly isn’t helping the situation. You don’t know what he’s playing at, rushing Jihoon like this, being so harsh when Jihoon’s at his most vulnerable, but you don’t care for it.

“Yoongi,” you murmur lowly, a warning in your voice.

“Baby, I’m not doing this to be mean. I just want him to learn,” Yoongi placates you, rising from the chair and pointing at it. He waits for Jihoon to take a seat before making his way toward you, gripping the back of his shirt to haul it off as he walks. He sheds his sweats next, his boxers dropping with them, and when you set your eyes on his cock, they almost bulge out of your head.

You think this is the hardest you’ve ever seen him, his dick a purplish rose and his balls heavy, full. You’re speechless, wide eyed, as he climbs onto the bed and reaches for your legs. He arranges you how he wants, planting his hands on the underside of your thighs and pushing them up against your body until he can get his shoulders under your knees.

One hand settles next to your head for balance and the other grips his cock, lightly smacking your pussy with it, the weeping head landing right on your swollen clit. You squirm and gasp at the feeling, your entrance clenching around nothing, pushing out more of your arousal to drip down your ass onto the bed.

He does it again, and again, and again, until you’re whimpering and clawing at him, ready to beg him to just fucking put it in already, and that’s when he guides his cock into place and slides home.

You and Yoongi moan in unison, yours more high pitched than his though both ring with relief.

Him and Jihoon don’t feel all that different but Yoongi is familiar, Yoongi is loved, Yoongi is yours, and that heightens every sensation. He stays buried in you, his gaze locked with yours, possession burning in his eyes like a wildfire.

You’re sure it’s because he gets to feel you bare and Jihoon doesn’t, and you wonder if he’s staying still for so long because he wants you to remember who you belong with. Then you feel him twitch inside of you and notice the tension on his face, and you know that’s not the case at all.

It’s that he’s inches away from doing exactly what Jihoon did, except he doesn’t have the excuse of being a virgin.

Yoongi hasn’t cum early in years, has practically become a paragon of self-control and patience, lasting long enough to get you there twice even when you first did away with the condoms. You’re almost gleeful to discover he’s so close to the edge right now, and you’re about to clamp down around him and push him even closer when his eyes harden and he mutters, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

And you try to listen, you really, really do, but you just can’t help the way your pussy responds to him, especially when he uses that voice on you.

So truly, it’s not even your fault when your walls swallow around his cock and suck him in deeper, the ragged groan he lets out only making you clench down more.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you whisper faintly, taking a deep breath and attempting to relax your inner muscles as he starts to pull out. “Don’t go,” you whimper, clinging to whatever skin you can reach, one hand wrapping around the wrist next to your head and the other flying down to grasp his hip.

You’re not strong enough to hold him in place, so you know it’s of his own volition when he stops moving, your cunt squeezing around what’s still inside, your whole body begging him not to leave.

He leans in close and narrows his eyes at you, probably trying to see if you’re playing some kind of trick on him, but you know there’s nothing in your gaze but a frantic wish to keep him inside, to finally feel him fuck you like you’ve needed for the last ten days.

His face softens into something fond and he murmurs, “Gonna give you what you need, baby.”

Then, with his eyes still on yours, he calls out, “Jihoon, c’mere.”

You hear him padding over to the bed, and you’re sure he’s just as confused as you are at his sudden involvement. Yoongi straightens up, breaking free of your hold and sitting back on his knees before gripping your hips tightly and pulling your ass into his lap, filling you with his cock and making space at the head of the bed in one rough move.

“Get on the bed, grab her hands,” Yoongi tells Jihoon, his stern voice leaving no room for questioning.

It seems Jihoon has learned his lesson by now, obeying Yoongi quickly and carefully, sliding into place behind you with his legs spread under your shoulders. His hands reach for yours and you offer them with only a little apprehension, gasping when he lifts your upper body enough for your head to rest on his thigh, your hands held against his toned stomach.

“Comfy, babe?” Yoongi asks you, waiting for you to nod before drawing his hips back until only the tip rests inside of you. He shoves forward, his pelvis smacking into your ass, a slick squelch sounding when he bottoms out.

He doesn’t give you any time to get used to it, every thrust that follows just as deep, just as vicious.

The rhythm of his cock slamming into you overtakes your heartbeat, your cunt throbbing and drooling around him as he rams into you, forcing your wetness out of your pussy and your thoughts out of your head.

Soon enough, you’re mindless with pleasure and writhing in their laps, arching into and away from the wicked bucking of Yoongi’s hips, his cock plunging into you so fast and so hard, you aren’t sure you’ll survive.

You can’t stop crying either, whining and blubbering nonsense words intercut with your boyfriend’s name, pleading for him to keep going because you’ll die if he stops but also he might kill you if he doesn’t.

“You can take it, baby,” Yoongi breathlessly assures you, his eyes lighting up with a devilish idea. “Maybe you just need something to focus on. Turn your head.”

Maybe he’s right, maybe you do just need to devote what little brain power you have left to something, so you turn your head and there it is, Jihoon’s bright red, rock hard cock.

With a desirous moan, you lean forward and drag your tongue up the side of his shaft, following one of the veins that winds around his dick like a vine. He chokes out a groan, his hands holding yours tighter when you tilt your head back and whimper, “Jihoon, please, put it in my mouth.”

There are tears streaming down your cheeks as you part your lips, laying your tongue out to entice him more. Yoongi is still fucking you, hasn’t let up for even a second, and you can feel his eyes on you as Jihoon transfers your hands to one of his and grips the base of his dick, pointing it in your direction and slowly feeding it into your mouth.

The angle is awkward but you can work with it, letting out a garbled ‘thank you’ and consciously relaxing your throat so he can slide deeper inside.

“That’s my girl, such nice manners,” Yoongi coos with a slight tone of condescension, watching as you swallow around Jihoon’s cock and fight not to choke.

“Wanna feel something amazing?” Yoongi asks Jihoon, who mutters doubtfully, “Something better than this?” and then he must nod because Yoongi says, “Put your hand on her throat. You can squeeze a little.”

Both of your hands are still gathered up in one of Jihoon’s, and you feel his free hand tentatively wrap around your neck, making you whine around him and clench around Yoongi.

“Fuck, is that my-” An avid groan cuts him off, his fingers spasming on your throat, though they don’t tighten to the point of pain.

A trickle of precum slides down your esophagus and you swallow again, your throat working around his thick cock, taking in another inch. You’re almost at the root now, close enough for your chin to brush his balls, and you’re about to get the last little bit inside when Yoongi scoops his hips on a stroke out and grinds right over your g-spot.

You squeak and jerk between them, your back arching as he starts to aim every single thrust there, battering the patch of nerves until you think you’ll cum just from this, just from his dick inside of you.

Then you feel his hand work itself between your thighs, his fingers cruel and exacting on your clit, and you have to pull off of Jihoon to gasp for air as an orgasm tears through you like a tornado, your pleasure wild, furious, devastating.

He doesn’t let up for even a minute, fucking you through it and leaning down over you to sink a hand into your hair, guiding your mouth back to Jihoon’s cock.

“Make him cum, baby.”

You bury him in your mouth again, nuzzling down until your nose brushes his skin and his cock fills your throat. He twitches and leaks, and you just know he’s close, but you don’t have the right angle to bob your head up and down, to give him any friction. All you can do is swallow and moan plaintively and hope it’ll be enough to carry him over the edge.

Your teary eyes flicker up and lock with his, and that’s what does it. His face crumples and a strangled moan forces its way out of his mouth as his cum shoots down your throat, his cock twitching, pulsing, throbbing between your lips. His grasp on your hands is so tight, it almost hurts, but the fingers on your neck never grip harder, never constrict to the point of suffocation.

Your throat convulses around him and he pulls out with a wounded sound, probably too sensitive to stay in the wet heat of your mouth any longer. His hand pets your neck and glides up to your face, wiping your tears away and cupping your cheek as Yoongi’s fingers start to swirl between your legs again.

You don’t know if you have another release left in you, but if you do, Yoongi will draw it out, and he’ll do it with a smile on his face. He’s mean that way, but so nice too, and now that all you have to focus on is the feeling of him surging in and out of you, the spark of painful bliss is familiar.

It reminds you that you’ve survived him before, and that this time won’t be any different even if you don’t feel like the same person after.

Yoongi fucks you like he’s remaking you in the shape of him, like he wants to take you down to your nuts and bolts then build you back up in a new form, one that bears his signature. It’s raw and rough and filthy, but beautiful too, which is always how he leaves you feeling when he’s had his way with you.

That’s the last thought you have before he sweeps all of them up and away with one final circle of his fingers on your sensitive, swollen clit.

Euphoria and agony battle within you, your climax excruciating but rapturous, sending you into a spiral of warring sensations that have you near delirious until finally, finally, finally, Yoongi lets himself break.

You whimper at the feeling of his cock hardening and twitching in your spent pussy but his cum flowing into you is a balm, soaking your delicate, tender walls with a warm wash of white. You breathe through the sting of overstimulation, your eyes watering again and your body shuddering between Jihoon and Yoongi.

Sometimes Yoongi stays inside after but you think he can tell you’re too wrung out, so he carefully slides out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulders, his palms gliding up and down your thighs in a soothing manner.

“Jihoon,” he says softly, his eyes still on you. “Go through that door and grab a washcloth from the closet, the softest one you can find. Get it wet with some warm water and bring it here.”

Jihoon is quick to follow Yoongi’s instruction, supporting your neck as he slips out from under you and brushing a thumb over your cheekbone before he leaves.

You hear the opening and closing of a door, then running water, then the quiet padding of feet on hardwoods. Your eyes have fluttered closed but you’re not surprised when you feel gentle hands cleaning you up, dabbing the washcloth between your legs, mindful of your sensitivity.

They fly open when you hear Yoongi say, “You can stay in the guestroom, if you want. It’s clean and ready for you.”

“You can stay in the guestroom, Jihoon is staying right here,” you assert, reaching blindly for him and clinging to his hand when you find it.

The time after losing your virginity can be fraught with emotion, and you’re not going to make Jihoon go through that alone. You also happen to feel unbearably fond of him now, and you’re itching to give him the affection he deserves after listening to Yoongi so well.

Yoongi just holds his hands up in surrender, muttering, “You’re middle spoon, then.”

As if that’s some kind of hardship.

Yoongi pulls two pairs of pajamas and a big t-shirt out of his drawer, passing one set over to Jihoon before walking over to you and carefully pulling the t-shirt over your head. He reaches into the arm holes and pulls your arms through like you can’t do it yourself, and you’d tease him if you didn’t feel so exhausted, you could pass out.

You have to get up so Yoongi can strip the comforter off the bed, and instead of putting it in the wash like he should, he just tosses it to the floor and grabs the backup from the closet. He waits for you to get under the sheets before throwing it over you, letting it float down to cover the bed and climbing in behind you.

Clothed in his borrowed pajamas, Jihoon awkwardly hovers by the side of the bed, looking unsure. You turn down his side of the comforter and reach a tired hand out, sighing contentedly when he blushes, smiles, and slides in, snuggling up against you.

Yoongi’s arm wraps around your waist and yours wraps around Jihoon’s, and the three of you sink into sleep easily, comfortably, warmly, even as the sun rises and seeps through the edges of your blackout curtains.

They’re making breakfast together and chatting about music when you limp downstairs, fresh out of the shower and starving out of your mind. You wonder if it will be awkward, but then Yoongi presses a kiss to your cheek and raises a brow at Jihoon, clapping him on the shoulder when he does the same, and that's how you know things will be just fine.

AN: would not exist without @bbychocolat jokingly saying "woozi yoongi threesome" and the help of @highvern @whipped-for-kpop-fics @wooahaeproductions and @daechwitatamic! thank you all for sharing your yoongi expertise and holding my hand throughout this journey (and it was a journey)

i've never written yoongi before!! pls tell me your thoughts i am desperate to know 💖

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scudslut · 2 months

Text

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'.

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.”

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water.

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily.

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly.

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy.

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away.

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong.

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?”

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank.

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #fem!reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl smut #norman reedus smut #y/n grimes #daryl x grimes reader #twd smut #daryl twd #twd fanfiction

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

Note

you’ve inspired me so here’s a thing you can do whatever with cause I got a migraine and lost my train of thought

so Danny’s working the bar at the iceberg lounge and notices more people are stress drinking, even the Big Names and asks what’s up only to find it’s ✨Tax Season✨

Danny: oh I always forget about that

someone: (aghast) you don’t pay your taxes

Danny: *shrugs* I’m not allowed to pay taxes

wtf does that mean, is he exempt, someone asks but no Danny explains that the first and only time he tried to pay his taxes he received a full refund and a cease and desist order

word gets around and not even the joker want to mess with Danny because what kind of a monster can scare the irs

(This is actually an inherited problem from his parents)

"What did you just say?" Danny looks up from where he is mixing drinks. Across from him is a purple suit-wearing clown- he hates clowns, so he was attempting not to make eye contact- whose whole white face is twitching slightly.

Danny blinks slowly, using every ounce of self-control to not give in to the urge to reach across the bar and slap him. After a moment, he answered, "I always forget tax season."

"You're crazy enough to take on the IRS?" The clown's jaw drops. "I mean Batman, sure, I understand that, but the IRS?"

Danny frowns. "I don't take them on. I don't have to do my taxes."

"How?" A man in a suit covered in question marks demands from further down the bar.

He shrugs his shoulders a little. "I tried it once, but they sent me a full refund and a cease and desist order. They only remind me that I cannot file taxes now."

"Prove it," A man covered in scales hisses.

Danny grabs a rag, using it to clean off the lemon juice. He reaches into his apron pocket, pulling out a folded-up letter. He could have left it in his locker, but stuff always went missing there. Best to keep his stuff on his person while working. "Sure. Here I have it now. I went to the post office before my shift-hey!"

The lade covered in leaves yanks the letter out of his hand, unfolding it and reading the words as though it wasn't a federal crime. Her voice wavers when she gets to the reminder that the United States of America Internal Revenue Service would not stand another attempt at Daniel Fenton's taxes.

"This can't be real," She scoffs, but there is an underline of worry in her voice that she can't entirely hide.

She turns to a man in a strange white and black suit- like it's evenly split down the middle strange. It matches his face, though; one side is gorgeous, and the other is deformed. "This isn't real, is it Two-Face?"

Two-face takes the paper from her hand, carefully reading the words before pulling out his phone and typing away. After a few seconds, he pauses, then gasps. "It's real. My boys just confirmed the Tax ID number. He is not legally allowed to do taxes."

"Holly Molly, you're insane," the clown gasped, backing out of the seat while pointing at Danny as though he was the devil. "Stay away from me you lunitic! I'm not messing with the IRS's boogie man!"

He turned tail and ran, leaving behind a stunned Danny, wondering what he could have said to earn that reaction. His parents back home were also ordered to not do their taxes. It's common.

He turns to his other customers, ready to take their order, but they all pale and quickly duck away from him as well.

Strange.

Then, Danny notices the silence that has fallen upon the Iceberg Lounge. Even the music has been cut off as everyone stares at him in disbelief.

He shifts, a little uncomfortable with the stares. Danny has never grown used to attention, no matter how much he craved it as a teenager. He always wanted to be in the It Crowd and be given an official membership to the A-listers, but he grew to understand that the only way they liked seeing him was in pain.

So Danny learned to avoid attention as he could, which wasn't complex as the part of the town's freaks, but the very few mintues someone did pay attention to him something terrible ended up happening.

Dash stuffed him into a locker while classmates laughed and cheered the bully on.

A teacher calling on him just to make him feel stupid.

His parents realized he was slipping in his grades and reminded him that he was a failure to the family's intelligence.

Or some random GIW agent that "banished" him from his Earth, flinging Danny straight across the universe to whatever hellhole Gotham crawled out of.

He barely got this bartending job only a few weeks ago- lying about his age which he thinks his boss doesn't care about- and using a shade of an old bartender to coach him in mixology.

Shades were different from ghosts. For one thing, they were weaker and unable to be seen by regular people. They could not interact with the world and often didn't even know they were dead. If Danny had been able to see them before the portal, he would have known they were the cause of what is commonly known as a "ghost."

They were the myths.

Jeff Ricci is Shade, one who is aware he died. He was killed in a gang shoot-out a few years after he and his sister ran away from an abusive home. They traveled through three states, dodging police and CPS, before they disappeared among Gotham's homeless population.

The pair of siblings survived for a while doing odd jobs for local gangs- things like drug runs or helping them move guns- which is why Jeff was out there the night the fight broke out.

It was an imperfect stroke of luck, the wrong place and time. The two had been doing so well, too. They had both gotten jobs at the Iceberg Lounge, lying about their ages, where Jeff was a dishwasher, and Lucia was a housekeeper.

After hours, Jeff was taught by his coworkers how to properly mix drinks, waiting for Lucia to finish her job. When the two turned eighteen, Lucia became a waitress, and Jeff joined the bar- though if anyone asked or checked their employee records, both were twenty-one.

With better pay and hours, they could rent an apartment, finally gaining a home after three years of homelessness. Jeff had lived in that home for only a month when he accepted a job to buy Lucia some migraine medication and had perished.

Lucia lived on without her twin, broken far more than before, but she still had the apartment and job at the Iceberg Lounge. She was unaware her brother still followed her around, watching her actaully turn twenty-one while he remained eighteen.

That's how Danny met him, a somewhat see-through man casually following one of the prettiest waitresses. He had assumed he was being a creep, but Jeff had been delighted that someone could not only see him but was willing to protect his sister by threatening him away from her.

In exchange for lessons on proper mixing, Jeff asked Danny to keep an eye on his sister. Help her when he could not. It was a fair trade from one younger brother to another.

The shade is currently leaning against the counter beside Danny, staring at him as though Danny was a god. "You scare the Joker. Shit, Danny, I knew you were some kind of Rouge in the making, but to take out heavy hitters like this before your debut!? That's just terrifying! Would you be willing to pay my sister to be your secretary or something? She's a great typer!"

What a strange place Gotham is.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #IRS's boogie man #Danny freaking out the Gotham Rouges #The Fentons are outlawed from their Taxes #Danny is in a new dimension and knowns nothing #He isn't even aware he was serving some of the worst criminals of Gotham #Jeff and Lucia Ricci have accidentally made a Deal with Ghost King Danny

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tender-rosiey · 10 months

Note

can i have more gojo fluff plsplsplspls i crave for more gojo fluff

gossip — gojo satoru xf!reader

a/n: gossip with husband gojo is here everyone! next up is sick gojo ;)) ( also sorry to all the stacy's out there; i am sure you are all wonderfull <33)

you and your husband love shit-talking people and the thing is you don’t even have to say anything. one look at each other and you both know what you’re both thinking.

consequently, it makes you guys absolutely terrible in a meeting.

and this is something that happens ever since you were students.

for example, yaga was lecturing you and the others about something. you and satoru locked eyes for a single moment, looked at yaga, then at each other once again.

both of you are barely able to contain your smiles.

in this relationship, you’re supposed to be the mature one, at least, before gojo mouthed a ��tennis ball” pointing at his own head.

it looks like that was your breaking point because you started cackling loudly and almost fell off your chair if it wasn’t for satoru teleporting beside you and holding you up— barely holding back a cackle of his own.

yaga merely sighed, pinching his nose.

you tried your best to breathe out a sorry, but satoru is merciless as he continues joking about his teacher’s hairstyle which makes you laugh even louder.

yaga could smack gojo across the head and lecture you both separately.

but he guesses that with the way gojo’s eyes are brimming with adoration and the way you’re laughing and making the others around you laugh as well, he can let it pass.

even if it’s at his own expense this time.

everyone needed a laughing break every once in a while, especially as sorcerers.

now nothing has changed. you’re both married, completely in love and are teachers.

and you’re supposed to be teaching your class, at the moment.

but your dumbass of a husband thought it would be better to teleport to your favourite café and judge every poor soul out there.

“he looks like he eats deodorant.”

“he looks like he has a body pillow for a wife.”

“she looks like she thinks babies come from storks.”

“she looks like she eats soap and chia seeds for breakfast.”

“satoru, please,” you wheeze, hand over your mouth to muffle your laughs, “I c-can’t take it anymore!”

“but y/n, I can’t help myself! also that couple over there looks like the ones that wear matching hello kitty pijamas.”

you perk up at that, “satoru, we did that too.”

“I know, honey,” he quips, eyes locking with your own, “it’s cool when we do it, not anyone else,” he argues with a proud smile.

you shake your head as you mumble, “hypocrite,” and satoru gasps while trying to defend himself.

another instance is while training the first and second years.

naturally, you were sat beside satoru, but the idiot could not keep his mouth shut and you were, too easily, dragged into it.

he leans towards you, “I can’t believe that that yuuji went into the water with socks. what’s wrong with him?!”

“I know, right?” you whisper, amidst the yelling of nobara and maki.

after that, you and gojo don’t leave a student without making a comment about them—ruthless you are.

yuuji, self-esteem dragged through the mud and having enough, heads snaps towards you both, “can you stop bullying me?!”

satoru smiles while the both of you raises your hands in innocence then looks at you, “sweets, you know how megumi said todo’s head is like a pineapple?”

you nod and he gladly continues, “don’t you think it’s ironic that it’s him, out of everyone, that said that?—“

“DON’T DRAG ME INTO YOUR GOSSIP!”

and even though you talk about the kids, you also talk with them about everyone else.

you can never forget that time you went with the first years to get some sushi.

you had left no one in the restaurant without butchering their entire life or alternatively said: you made up stories for every person you saw.

but that shall be the story of another time.

along with judging every creature that has come to existence, you and your husband love to gossip, a lot.

nothing happens without one telling the other; you always keep the other updated about everything.

so today as you slam the door open, you are barely able to contain yourself as you yell out, “satoru, you will not guess what just happened!”

in an instance, he gets all the snacks and sits in front of you on the couch, face eager as ever.

he is wearing that bunny headband you got him for the self-care nights and you smile: you have both a best friend and a husband in the same person.

he leans forward, eyes wide, “is it about stacy?”

“how did you know?” you gasp before taking a bite from one of the many snacks laid on the table.

he shrugs, “lucky guess, plus! I’ve been curious ever since you told me about what she did! it’s hard to believe that she is dating 4 guys at the same time and they don’t even know that the other exists.”

“right? I’ve heard about two-timing but never four-timing, and speaking of them not knowing about each other,” you smirk and his eyes light up in excitement, “they found out today!”

satoru cackles before pulling you in to cuddle you, “I bet a story like that will take the entire night to tell.”

you look up at him, “and you don’t mind?”

he kisses your cheek leaving an obnoxiously loud sound, “of course not! I get to listen to some juicy and hot tea and I get to hear your gorgeous voice for a really long time! so practically heaven for me, sweets,” he grins.

a giggle escapes your lips, “gossip is heaven for you, my dear husband?”

“gossip with you is heaven for me, my dear wife,” he murmurs as he peppers your face with kisses before abruptly pulling back, “now tell me! I am dying to know!”

you laugh, “okay, so one of them…”

and so you tell the story of stacy, the four-timer.

satoru is hung up on your every word and you’ve yet to figure out whether it’s because two of the boyfriends end up fighting each other or because of something else.

to satoru, it’s clear, your voice and the way you’re so excited while telling him about how the third boyfriend ended up being the son of the ceo makes him smile contently as he hugs you closer.

he doesn’t know what else to do, but he has a feeling that he should thank stacy for providing the both of you with a very interesting story like that.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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thefantasyden · 2 months

Text

Stray Kids reaction to you being extra submissive

Smut under the cut, bdsm themes and use of pet names. Jisung's could be interpreted as breeding kink so do with that what you will xx

Chris:

You'd established your kinks early into your relationship, and he was a pro at reading the signs by now. He'd notice the second you went quiet, your hands resting neatly in your lap as you listened to whatever the boys were currently talking about. While you were with people, he would feed into your submission by asking you to do small things like getting him a bottle of water or searching something on your phone for him. It was his way of letting you know that he was aware and okay with it.

The second you get somewhere private, he's asking you to kneel, his hand gripping your jaw as he slips his thumb into your mouth, which you suck willingly. Your relationship was far from a constant theme of dominance and submission, but he would never deny you when you were feeling extra pliant. He loved how much you trusted him to take care of you and he was happy to take advantage of it, moving his hand to the back of your head as he unzipped his pants and pulled your face closer to where his cock was trapped in the confines of his underwear.

"My poor baby. You need me to take care of you, huh? Always so good for me. Let Daddy think for you, okay?"

Lee Know:

You were almost always submissive to him to begin with. Being a bratty dom was so much more fun to him knowing that he had such an eager to please sub at his beck and call.

You'd be sitting on the floor between his legs legs where he sat on the couch and he'd be playing with your hair, tugging a little harder than necessary just to hear the prettiest whine leave your lips. Your eyes would lock on his and you wouldn't care at all about the other eyes on you because you always gave Minho anything he wanted and right now what he wanted was to push you to your sub space, waiting until you were right at the edge of being incapable of thought before he tells you to meet him in his room.

You're already kneeling when he gets to you, patiently waiting on his bed with your hands resting between your legs, eyes falling closed when he pets your cheek gently before landing a light slap against the sensitive skin.

"My pathetic little pet. Always so needy for me, aren't you? I could break you into pieces and you'd just thank me."

Changbin:

Changbin wasn't as well versed in the BDSM world as you were, but he had sat you down one night and forced you to explain every single kink term he could find, so he knew enough about what sub space was to be able to recognise it on you.

He had been teasing (torturing) you for over an hour, his fingers never keeping a stable rhythm as he thrust them inside of you, thumb rubbing painfully slow circles at your clit. He was always like this. He lived to see how you reacted to different pressures, speeds and sensations. You couldn't help it when you'd become so overwhelmed by frustration and need that you'd just slipped, unable to think of anything but Changbin, his cock, and how desperately you wanted him. It was the tears welling in your eyes that had him finally giving you the proper attention that you craved, his arms caging you in when he finally settles between your thighs, light kisses pressing across your face.

"My sweet bunny, I'm sorry. Let me take care of you, okay? Gonna make you come nice and hard around me."

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin was always mesmerised when you were like this. Your voice would become all quiet and soft and you'd jump to follow any single request he gave you. It honestly made him melt to see how eager you were to please him and he wanted to return that to you tenfold.

He'd first notice the change in your voice when you were out shopping with Seungmin or Felix, and he'd immediately have his hands glued to your back. He wouldn't take his hands off you for even a second until you were laying safely on the comfort of his sheets and he could replace them with his lips trailing kisses over every inch of exposed skin you had to offer him. Hyunjin would give you the pillow princess treatment just for even wanting to submit to him, gently removing your hands every time you tried to grip at him and locking his fingers with yours. He's 100% going to eat your pussy until you're begging him to stop, and maybe even after that.

"Such a sweet angel for me. Gonna let me spoil you, yeah? That's my girl. Let me hear all those pretty noises you make just for me."

Han:

Jisung is going to be completely wrecked the second he sees you going all soft and gooey for him. You'd be so attentive to him, refilling his drink and bringing him snacks and it really doesn't take any time at all for him to be pulling you toward his room, his lips connecting clumsily with yours as he kicks the door shut and pulls your body flush against his.

He'd be mumbling praises and compliments aginst your lips, refusing to stop kissing you as you stumble your way to his bed, both of you falling into a tangled mess of grabbing hands and desperate pleading as you shove off your pants. He doesn't have the time to waste on getting the rest of your clothing off because he's so desperate to be inside of you and every second that he isn't is absolute torture.

Fucks into you like an animal, his lips leaving yours in favour of marking your neck with deep purple bruises because he knows how much you love it. Everything he does is desperate and messy and you'll both end up glistening with a mixture of saliva and sweat because you can't keep your mouths off each other.

"Need you so bad. Fuck, so good to me. Always so good to me. Wanna fill you up, ok? Wanna claim my baby. So fucking wet. Mine. All mine."

Felix:

Felix is nervous, to say the least. He prides himself in being a "try everything twice" kind of guy but he finds it so hard to take charge when all he wants is to give the love of his life everything they could ever want from him.

You had asked if he could try being a little rougher with you and he had agreed, starting with a slightly harsher grip on your hips as you grind yourself against his hardening cock and graduation to the current position he was in which had you kneeling in front of him with your hands behind your back, his cock filling your mouth as he hesitantly fucked your face.

You had no objections whatsoever, obediently taking everything he was giving you and sighing happily as you caught your breathe every time he pulled out, making him lose all train of thought as he took in the sight of you covered in spit, your eyes watering and an innocent smile tugging at your lips as you stared up at him.

"Fuck. You look so good like this. Is this okay baby? You want me to go a little harder? Shit, you're driving me crazy!"

Seungmin:

Seungmin is gonna tease you about it to no end. Minho and Jisung would be lazing on the couch across from you when you began nuzzling into his side, which was always a telltale sign to Seungmin that you were feeling extra small and needy. Laughs loud enough for everyone to hear before asking if you were feeling a little submissive today. Minho would laugh along and Jisung would meet your eyes with a sympathetic pout before Minnie is shoving his thumb between your lips for you suck, telling you to be patient and wait until the movie is over which feels like it takes a lifetime.

By the time he gets you into his bed you're practically shaking, gripping his shirt as he lays on top of you and pleading for him to touch you. He loves when you get like this, responding to every plea that leaves your lips with a pitying laugh, telling you it was so sad that you were so needy just from being near him.

He doesn't really waste much time prepping you since he knows you're completely soaked, and he has to bite back his moans as he sinks himself completely inside of you.

"You're always so desperate for me, puppy. It's pathetic. Can't live without my cock inside you, can you? Always need to be filled."

I.N:

He is very much clueless at first and you have to explain it to him very slowly when you're alone because he isn't going to acknowledge the change in your behaviour with any of the other boys around. It's not until you're laying in bed that he asks why you were so quiet and clingy earlier and you're flushed a deep red as you explain to him that sometimes you just feel a bit overwhelmed by how much you need him and it just makes you want to do anything he asks.

He's almost embarrassed by how much of a turn on that is and he spends the next day trying to get you in that zone again with light lingering touches, his hands guiding you around by your hips and whispered request into your ear, which truthfully works much easier than he had hoped.

You're both falling into bed, your body on top of his as you whine into his mouth, his hard dick dragging against your clit every time he thrust his hips up against you.

"You wanna make me feel good right? Want you to suck my cock baby, please. Wanna see how you choke on me."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #chris bang smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chris smut #lee know smut #mingo smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #jisung smut #han smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #i.n smut #thefantasyden

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hoasvuon · 3 months

Text

(12:31 AM)

jeonghan never used to understand why anyone would want to leave the house after 11 pm. after all, his days were so long and all he wanted to do after work was lay down, drown himself under a pile of blankets, and go straight to bed.

plus, eating so late at night meant his body would have to spend even more time to digest the food late at night, and he would have to wake up bloated and still half full. which meant that often times, he would skip dinner, opting simply to crawl into his bed and rot away until the next day. i'll just deal with it tomorrow by eating extra well at breakfast and lunch, he'd always tell himself.

that is, before he met you.

now his nights were filled of random adventures, running with you to the local convenience store to grab kimbap and ice cream, or to the stand down the street that sold udon noodles at nearly all hours (hannie try some it's so good!).

and tonight was one of those lucky nights. around 12 am, jeonghan woke up to you softly tugging on his sleeve. still half asleep, he simply pulled you in closer and tucked your head into his chest before kissing the top of your head.

"what's wrong baby", he mumured, lips still planted on your head.

"hannie ... on a scale of 1 to 10 ... how mad would you be if i told you i wanted kbbq" you whispered.

finally opening his eyes, he saw you staring up at him, eyes wide with a small, hopeful smile on your face.

"negative 1, you know i'm always down for whatever you want" he replied.

you shot up in bed, clapping your hands quietly. "oh i'm so excited! i was worried you'd be mad, or worse, not want to go! ok let me grab my hoodie and we can go, ok?" you said hurriedly.

jeonghan looked at you from the bed as you flurried around the room to find a hoodie to take, smiling fondly. after all, he could never get mad at you for anything, especially not for your random late night food cravings.

tonight you wanted korean barbecue. that meant he could sit flush next to you, blaming his clinginess on the fact that it was so late and he was still sleepy. you'd definitely feed him, feeling guilty for dragging him out of bed. and then he could leave soft kisses on your cheeks as 'thank you's when you remembered to order some fried rice at the end, his favorite.

and no matter how many times you would apologize as you walked back home, clock striking nearly two or three in the morning, all he could see is your face, lit up in front of him and he'd tell himself he would do it all over again just to see you smile. especially when that meant he was able to see you in his hoodie (you always seemed to "not be able" to find yours in time to leave), head burrowed into his side as pulled the covers over the both of you, eyes twinkling at him, murmuring soft praises that he 'finally ate well for once'. plus, in the middle of the night, it meant that he could hold you extra. tight against his body, excusing it to the fact that his body hadn't yet adjusted from the cold temperature outside.

"i love you" you'd say softly, before falling asleep.

i love you too

#svt drabble #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt #seventeen soft hours #seventeen kpop #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan svt #svt jeonghan

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sttoru · 3 months

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cuddling w choso as he gives reader small kisses around their face <3

·.⌇𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. choso kamo x female reader. fluff; sfw. reader gets called ‘baby’. please take it easy on me bcs its my first time writing for this man t_t not beta read!

choso is super clingy when he’s with you. when you try to leave your bed in the morning, he pulls you right back. back into his warm embrace so you wouldn’t suffer from the cold temperatures. you don’s protest and simply allow yourself to be dragged back into the arms of your beloved.

“choso, tickles.” giggles leave your lips as choso plants several kisses on your skin. they’re those ticklish yet sweet ones—the feeling of his lips grazing gently against your cheeks makes you smile. your lover takes his chance once you speak and places a few more pecks on your prominent cheekbones.

he hums, a low sound reverberating through his chest. choso refuses to let go of you. his hands are firmly holding you down by your waist. his eyes are closed like he’s enjoying every second of this, “sorry. can’t stop.”

and he truly cannot. it’s like your body was a magnet—pulling his in by simply being near him. your fingers play with the black strands of choso’s hair while he leaves a trail of kisses down your jawline. it’s soothing to him. nearly makes him purr in content. he can’t help but give your chin a swift, small lick.

“hey!” you pout and try to wipe the saliva off. there is a humourous glint in choso’s eyes—your adorable reaction being exactly what he was aiming for. his hand interlocks with yours, pinning them above your head. his thumb rubs yours gently while his eyes scan your face.

choso grins once he targets another spot, “one more. promise it’s the last one.”

a famous excuse you hear all the time. your lover leans in and his lips attach to the skin between your brows. a delicate kiss that causes your body to shiver in delight. as much as you want to start your day, you also wouldn’t mind staying in bed. especially when choso is being this affectionate.

he pulls back, his tongue darting out lightly to run over his upper lip—from one side to the other. your heart flutters at the sight, your fingers moving his bangs to the side. it reveals that look in choso’s eyes; the yearning one. the one that shows you just how much he loves and craves to touch you.

“hmm,” choso’s voice was raspy. he looks smug with that grin tugging at his lips, but the light pink hue on his cheeks gave him an innocent look as well. “don’t be angry, baby, but. . .”

a silence falls between the two of you. you flutter your eyelashes in response, not knowing what choso is going to confess. his grip on your hand tightens, his other free hand running up to keep your chin upwards, exposing your neck to him.

“i may have lied,” choso mumbles before he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

you squirm a bit. his tongue swipes along your throat, his lips following that same trail. you expected this to happen. no matter how many times choso claims that a kiss would be 'the last one', it never stops there.

“hmph. liar,” you scold, though chuckle right afterwards. you can feel choso smiling against your skin, enjoying the jokey banter between the two of you. he could be a little too playful every now and then. you love it.

the black-haired man never stops his gentle caresses or kisses. he’s absolutely infatuated by you and is not afraid of showing it, “hehe, you can't blame me. you’re just so..”

choso pauses and thinks hard about a word—a word that describes you perfectly. he hums in thought and pulls his head back to look down at you. his eyes meet yours and his heart beats faster at the way you stare at him.

the look you give choso causes him to malfunction a little. he forgets to complete his sentence. instead, he goes for another kiss. on your lips directly.

you let out a small, muffled noise of surprise. your arms encircle his neck instantly to which he responds by squeezing your body tightly against his. the kiss continues for a couple seconds before choso reluctantly pulls away for some air.

his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. his cheeks are redder than before as he leans in close, almost going for another kiss. before his mouth lands on yours again, he completes his earlier sentence with a subtle smirk;

“ . .cute.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #choso x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso fluff #female reader

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thekeystothebasement · 1 year

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REQUEST!! Head empty just thinking about throwing the 141 guys on their back to ride the living soul out of them till they're babbling non sense+ including König and graves these boys are to die for🤤🤎🤎🤎

A/N: I'm slowly making my way through the requests, This one took me a bit longer than I expected. It was quite challenging writing similar prompts for different characters without sounding repetitive.I went hard on Captain Price and Ghost's parts but I sort of felt like the quality went down after that :(

Let me know what ya'll think!

Check out my post: WIPS and Requests if you're interested in what I have planned or curious about the rules I set for requests.

Captain Price:

You've been needy all day and Price hasn't been giving you the attention you've been craving.

He was constantly pacing around the base, in meetings, and never having an opportunity to be with you until you found one.

After wandering around the base like a lost puppy looking for its owner, you found Price at his office, sitting in his big leather chair.

You could hear him sigh out of frustration, rubbing his temple, you could see the exhaustion on his face.

Normally you would leave him alone or even convince him to rest but you were so fucking needy.

The ache between your legs only seems to grow by the second.

Seeing him lean back into his leather chair, legs spread and letting out a sigh of frustration you finally decided to pounce.

"Daddy" you whimpered as you bounced on his dick. You were riding him eagerly, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. Normally Price would be so rough with you, pounding you against his desk and calling you a whore, his little slut. But Price couldn't even form a coherent sentence. Any words coming from his mouth were slurred as he looked at you with hooded eyelids.

"I'm a good girl, right?" you asked as you kept your relentless pace. "I'm taking care of daddy." you giggled as you felt him throb inside of you. You rocked your hips against him as you leaned closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"C'mon daddy, let it out." you whimpered. You gently nipped at his ear earning a throaty moan from him. "Let your baby take care of you. Be a good boy for me."

You let out a gasp at his weak attempt to thrust up into you, his nails leaving marks on your hips.

"Princess..." he whimpered

"Yes, sir?" you were smiling down at him, feeling him tense under you before shuddering as his cum shoots deep into you. His body goes limp on the leather chair as you continue to ride him, not satisfied with the amount of cum he gave you.

"Giving up already?" you pouted. You could feel his semen run down your burning thighs, leaving you even hornier.

"C'mon old man, your princess wants more."

Ghost:

Ghost never liked to relinquish control.

Whenever you tried to take the reigns you were always put in your place

On your back with your legs over his shoulder as he pounded into you, desperately trying to breed you.

Despite how good he made you feel, you always had the fantasy to be on top.

You wanted Ghost to be the one left quivering and begging.

You wanted to be the one in control. You wanted to be the one to be able to hold's Ghost pleasure over his head.

You wanted Ghost to beg you to let him cum, which is exactly what your ears are hearing.

"Fucking hell, don't do this to me, baby..." Simon pleaded. The rope tied around his wrist wouldn't budge no matter how hard Simon's hands tried to reach out to your body. He couldn't remember how many times you kept bringing him to the edge of pleasure, riding his cock and squeezing your warm wet cunt around him, to only pull away when you feel the familiar throb of his cock ready to burst his semen inside you.

"C'mon lieutenant..." you whispered into his ear as your fingernail traveled from his neck down to his chest. "I know you can beg better than that. How much do you want to cum inside this wet pussy." You teased.

You can see how red his tip was, practically ready to blow his load inside you with the slightest touch. His breathing was labored, his chest rapidly rising and falling. The rope tied around his ankles kept him from bucking his hips into you, as you hovered over him. Your pussy is just a few mere centimeters from his cock.

"c'mon princess..." he choked out, completely frustrated in the predicament he woke up to. "Please ride me..."

You couldn't help the wide grin that appeared on your face as you looked down at Simon. As soon as those words left his mouth you bounced down onto his cock earning a whimper from the man below you.

"As you wish lieutenant."

Soap:

You and Soap had made a bet after a heated argument in front of the 141 task force.

Somehow the topic landed on Sex

Soap had begun to brag that he could last hours to the point he'd outlast his partner which earned a snort from you.

All eyes landed on you at your reaction, Soap didn't take it lightly and thus started your mini argument

The argument ended when you and Soap agreed to have sex with each and see who would last the longest.

The group was astounded at the interaction and decided to stay at the bar longer than they planned as they watched you and Soap leave.

They did not want to be around you both as the bet took place.

"Johnny..." you panted as you looked down at the male before you. His eyes were squeezed shut as he roughly panted below you. "Admit it. You can't outlast me. My pussy is about to put you to sleep."

Soap could only whimper as you continued to bounce on his cock, vulgar wet sounds emitted by your actions. A ring of white can be seen in the base of his cock, the ring getting thicker and thicker as you continued to ride him. His hips would lazily try to meet yours, missing the rhythm you had set.

Your giggles echoed in his room as you felt his body stiffen, knowing his semen was about to be freed from their chamber. You could hear him babble nonsense as your cunt squeezed around his cock, squeezing the last bit of cum he had. Hissing as he nutted in you.

"you're a fucking minx..." he panted out. His hand tapped the inside of your cum covered thighs.

"Tapping out, Johnny?"

Gaz:

You and Gaz were the youngest members of the task force.

Because of this, you two got along well.

A little too well for everybody's comfort

It was no secret you two were fooling around with each other

Every member has their own experience catching you two in the act, mortifying all who were involved

But that never stopped you and Gaz from doing it again

The bathroom, kitchen, and even the sparring room were not safe from your lewd acts

Hell, you could imagine Price's shouting already

You were riding Gaz on Price's favorite couch, the worn-out fabric couch by the coffee table

"You got issues Gaz,"

Gaz was leaning back on the couch, 'coincidentally' the very spot Price sits on every day. He watched as you did all the work. Watching as your breasts jiggled with every bounce on his dick. He leaned further into the couch as you continued to belittle him.

"You like it when we get caught," you teased. "Pervert."

Gaz felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head, you were breathtaking, you looked so beautiful riding him. Your hands settled on his shoulders as you raised your hips and fell down on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass.

"Hurry up and cum Gaz," you gasped out. His fingers tightened around your hips as he edged closer and closer to the height of his pleasure. "Don't want the Captain to walk in and see me riding his favorite sergeant?"

"...fuck..."Gaz moaned. His eyes squeezed shut as he imagined your words. "...baby"

"Sick-fuck..." you teased. You quicked your pace, moving your hips in a circular manner. "You want the Captain to see me milk your cum from your balls?"

"shit..oh god..." Gaz cried out. You felt his body stiffen as he chanted 'yes baby' He could feel your walls squeezing around him, desperately trying to milk him.

As you feel his cum dribble down your thigh, your next set of words had him running through a list of emotions, his limp dick twitching inside of you despite his consciousness telling him how wrong it was to be getting hard in the situation he found himself in.

"Hi, Captain. Enjoying the show?"

Konig:

Konig's eyes followed you everywhere and you noticed for quite a bit of time.

You never really held a conversation with the tall male before.

He was too anxious to talk to you but whenever you approached him and try to converse with him, he could only reply with one-word responses.

Despite the lack of conversations, you enjoyed his presence.

You would be writing in your journal across from him and he would sketch on his sketchpad.

You've seen his sketches before, he was quite skilled and you rained compliments on him.

He would awkwardly laugh at your compliments, his mask hiding the big smile and blush on his cheeks.

Konig's body would soon stiffen under your next question, his hand harshly gripping at his sketchpad, and his pencil snapped in the other.

"Have you ever done nude art?"

You already knew the outcome when you suggested he draw you nude.

The devious smile on your face as you led him to your room and rid yourself of your clothes.

You admired Konig's self-control when he actually did try to sketch you nude but you had other plans.

"Mesmerize every square inch of my body." you panted. Konig was sprawled on the floor as you used his body for your complete and utter pleasure. His sniper hood was discarded in the room as his forearm covered his eyes, tears streaming down his face from the pleasure of your tight walls squeezing his overstimulated cock.

Whimpers and breathy moans escaped his throat and released into the room. Wet sounds resonated in the room as you bounced on his cock and scratched and clung to his chest.

"I'll remember..." Konig breathed out. "I'll remember...Scheiß...your curves..and...tight pussy"

You laughed at his weak attempt to reply to you, his sentence broken each time your ass landed on his balls earning whimpers and curses from the male. You could feel Konig's dick throb inside of you and his moans becoming higher and more frequent.

"Cum inside of me..."You begged. "and then you'll be able to draw me full of your semen."

Graves:

As soon as you got a glimpse of his eyes, you knew you were going to fuck him into submission

The way his eyes would shined when he stepped into the dinner and noticed a cute young waitress looking at him with a soft smile

He'd sit in a booth and pray you'll be his waitress for the night

He'd subtly flirt with you but you knew what you wanted and aggressively flirted right back at him

His eyes would follow your figure as you'd walk away, his eyes focusing on your ass

When you returned with his food you sat in the chair in front of him and kept him company as he ate his meal

Eventually, your boss yelled at you to get back to work, leaving Graves smirking at the small pout on your face.

You would lean down to his ear, his eyes gazing at your cleavage, your hand squeezing his shoulder as you whispered into his ear, "I get off at 10. If you'll wait for me, I'll make it worth your while."

You stood back up, dusting your skirt and sending him a wink before getting back to work

Despite the car having tinted windows, the rocking of the car and the smudged handprints on the windows gave away what was happening inside.

Phillip was sprawled on the car seat that was set all the way down, you were sat on his clothed dick, rocking your wet folds against the wet fabric of his briefs. His briefs stained with his cum and your arousal.

“C’mon baby….fuck,” Graves whined. “Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours.”

You gave him false hope as you lifted your hips up and pulled down his briefs. You continued to rock your hips, your wet folds spreading your arousal on his red tip. You felt him shudder under your teasing, his eyes squeezed shut as his hands tried to grip the leather seats.

“Please stop teasing me, baby.” He begged.

You grinned at him, lining yourself up with his dick before you slowly eased him inside of you. Your eyes closed shut momentarily before the were snapped open, feeling Grave shoot his cum inside of you.

Your laughter filled the car as you began to bounce on his dick, whimpers and moans escaping from Graves.

“Was my pussy that good,” you questioned. “Fucking nutted just by being inside of me….Pathetic”

Graves couldn’t help but enjoy the way you degraded him, feeling your warm walls hug his cock, and the way yours eyes looked down at him. Your eyes looking at him as if he was a toy for your pleasure. Disregarding how sensitive he was from all your teasing, not caring how many times you made him cum inside of his briefs, his cum and your arousal mixed with each other, wet sounds emitted each time you lowered your hips all the way till his balls were tightly pressed against your ass.

“Shit….gonna fuck myself on your cock till the sunrise…”you said as you felt him throb inside of you once again.

“ if you can even last that long…”

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