#Flushing thinner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elswhore · 2 months ago

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۫ ꣑ৎ . you, the daughter of a powerful man who owns the city, navigate a growing, intense attraction with ellie, a new hire tasked with cleaning your family's mansion.

mdni. class difference. older ellie. rough sex. fingering. face sitting. unrequited feelings. forbidden attraction.

you lean against the polished mahogany railing of the staircase, your fingers tracing the intricate carvings absentmindedly.

from your vantage point, you can see ellie moving through the foyer below, her movements, trying not to disturb the space she occupies.

the new hire.

the cleaner.

her auburn hair is tied back in a messy bun, a few strands slipping free to frame her face as she kneels to scrub the marble floor.

she’s thorough, focused, but every now and then, her eyes flick upward toward you.

it’s not the first time you’ve caught her staring.

yesterday, when you passed her in the hallway, her gaze lingered just a fraction too long, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

today, it’s bolder.

her green eyes hold yours for a heartbeat longer than they should, sharp and searching, before she ducks her head back to her work.

your stomach tightens, a slow coil of heat you can’t quite name.

you shift your weight, the floor creaking faintly beneath your boots, and her head snaps up again.

this time, she doesn’t look away.

the rag in her hand stills, forgotten, as her eyes trace the lines of your figure.

there’s something raw in her expression, something that makes your pulse quicken.

you could call her out, demand to know why she’s looking at you like that, but you don’t.

you let the silence stretch, let the weight of her stare settle into your bones.

she stands slowly, wiping her hands on her jeans, leaving faint smudges of soap suds.

the distance between you feels charged, like the air before a storm.

you’re the daughter of the man who owns this city, everyone in town knows your name, your face, your power.

people don’t look at you like this.

not with such unguarded intensity.

but ellie does.

and it’s unraveling you in ways you didn’t expect.

you take a step down the stairs, your movements deliberate, testing the waters.

her eyes follow you, unwavering, though her jaw tightens slightly, like she’s bracing herself.

you pause, one hand resting on the banister, your body angled toward her.

the space between you is still vast, but it feels like nothing at all.

you can see the faint flush creeping up her neck, the way her fingers flex at her sides, like she’s fighting the urge to move closer.

or maybe to run.

“ellien” you say, your voice low, testing the sound of her name on your tongue.

it’s the first time you’ve spoken to her directly, and her reaction is immediate, her breath catches, her shoulders stiffen, but her eyes don’t leave yours.

they’re darker, pupils wide, and you swear you can see the pulse jumping at the base of her throat.

“yes, ma’am?” her voice is rougher than you expected, a little husky, and the formal address lands strangely, like it doesn’t belong in this moment.

it’s polite, deferential, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge hidden in the way she says it.

like she knows you’re untouchable, but she’s daring to push anyway.

you don’t answer right away.

instead, you tilt your head, letting your gaze roam over her, her faint scar cutting through her eyebrow, the freckles scattered across her nose.

she shifts under your scrutiny, but she doesn’t break eye contact.

the tension is a living thing now, coiling tighter with every second that passes.

you could step closer.

you could tell her to get back to work.

you could do anything, and she’d have to listen, because of who you are, because of the power your name carries.

but that’s not what you want.

not really.

the grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, each second stretching the moment thinner.

ellie’s lips part again, and for a fleeting second, you think she might say something to break the silence.

but she doesn’t.

she just watches you, waiting, her eyes burning with something you can’t quite decipher but can’t look away from either.

you take another step down.

the gap between you shrinks, and the air feels hotter, heavier, like it’s pressing against your skin.

her fingers twitch, and you wonder what it would feel like if she reached out, if she closed the distance.

you wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.

the tension snaps like a taut string when your father’s voice booms through the house, warm and commanding.

“little doll! im off to work, come see me!” his words echo up the staircase, pulling you out of the charged moment with ellie.

your head turns instinctively toward the sound, but before you move, you glance back at her.

ellie’s still standing there, rag clutched loosely in her hand, her eyes locked on you.

the intensity in her gaze hasn’t faltered, but theres a flicker of disappointment, maybe, or frustration, like she knows this moment is slipping away.

her lips press into a thin line, and for a split second, you think she might step forward, say something, anything, to hold onto whatever this is.

but she doesn’t.

she just watches, her chest rising and falling a little too quickly, the flush on her neck still betraying her.

you hold her stare for a beat longer than you should, your own pulse hammering in your ears.

there’s a pull in your chest, an urge to stay, to see how far this unspoken thing can go.

but your father’s voice lingers, a reminder of who you are, of the world you belong to.

you turn away, the motion feeling heavier than it should, and start down the rest of the stairs.

your fingers tighten around the banister, grounding yourself as you cross the foyer, your polished shoes clicking against the marble.

your father’s waiting in the grand entryway, his tailored coat draped over one arm, his briefcase in hand.

he’s a towering figure, the man who owns this city, his presence filling the room with effortless authority.

his smile is wide and fond as he sees you approach, oblivious to the storm of tension you’re leaving behind.

“there’s my girl.” he says, pulling you into a quick, familiar hug.

“ill be gone a week this time, business in the capital, keep things in order here, yeah?” you nod, forcing a smile.

your father’s driver opens the door, and he’s gone in a flurry of instructions and the clink of his watch against his cufflinks.

a huff escapes your lips, the sound swallowed by the vast emptiness of the estate.

the loneliness creeps in, familiar and heavy, settling into your bones like the chill of the early morning.

he’s gone for a week, and while that should feel like freedom, it only amplifies the quiet, the way the house seems to hold its breath without him.

you pull your blazer tighter around you, the fabric doing little to ward off the feeling, and turn back inside.

the heavy door shuts behind you with a soft thud, the warmth of the foyer wrapping around you but doing nothing to thaw the restlessness stirring in your chest.

you pause, your eyes sweeping the space, and there she is ellie, standing near the base of the staircase, her cleaning supplies neatly packed away in a bucket at her feet.

she’s done for the morning, it seems, her flannel sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing the faint outline of a tattoo peeking out from under the fabric.

her auburn hair is still tied back, but a few more strands have slipped free, catching the light filtering through the tall windows.

she doesn’t notice you at first, her head tilted slightly as she wipes her hands on a rag, her movements slow and methodical.

the sight of her, so at ease in a space that feels too big for you today, pulls you toward her almost against your will.

the boredom, the loneliness, the lingering heat of her earlier stare, it all collides, pushing you to close the distance.

“ellie.” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

her head snaps up, and there it is again, that sharp, searching look in her green eyes, the one that makes your pulse skip.

she straightens, tossing the rag into the bucket, and you catch the faintest flicker of surprise in her expression before it smooths into something neutral, respectful.

“ma’am?” she replies, her voice low and rough, the word carrying that same undercurrent of defiance you heard earlier.

it’s polite, but it feels like she’s testing the boundaries, seeing how you’ll react.

you take a step closer, your boots clicking softly against the marble, and gesture vaguely toward the foyer.

“you’re done already? you’re quick.” she shrugs, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but her eyes don’t leave yours.

“not much to do today, place was already pretty spotless.” there’s a pause, and then, quieter.

“figured i’d get it done before you needed the space.” you nod, but the silence that follows feels too heavy, too loaded.

the boredom gnaws at you, and the idea of retreating to your study or wandering the empty halls alone is unbearable.

you tilt your head, studying her, the scar on her brow, the freckles dusting her cheeks, the way her hands flex slightly at her sides, like she’s not sure what to do with them now that she’s not working.

she’s older than you, you realize, though you’re not sure by how much.

there’s a steadiness to her, a quiet confidence that feels out of place for someone in her position, and it intrigues you.

“how old are you, ellie?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can overthink it.

it’s a simple enough start, something to break the monotony, to keep her here a little longer.

her brows lift slightly, like she wasn’t expecting you to care about something so mundane.

she shifts her weight, leaning against the banister, and the movement is casual, almost too relaxed for someone speaking to the boss’s daughter.

“twenty-three.” she says, her tone even, but there’s a spark in her eyes, like she’s curious about why you’re asking.

“you?”The question catches you off guard, no one asks you things like that, not so directly.

“nineteen.” she nods, and you swear you see the corner of her mouth twitch, like she’s holding back a smile.

“young to be running a place like this.” she says, her voice careful but laced with teasing.“i don’t run it.”

you say, a little too quickly, your tone sharper than you intended.

“my father does... i just… keep things in order when he’s gone.” her eyes flicker over you, taking your posture, the way you’re standing just a little too stiffly.

“could’ve fooled me.” she murmurs, and the words feel like they carry more weight than they should, like she sees more than you want her to.

the air between you shifts, the tension from earlier creeping back in, slow and deliberate.

you should walk away, go back to your study, let her get back to whatever she does when she’s not working.

but you don’t.

instead, you take another step closer, close enough now that you can see the faint sheen of sweat on her temple, the way her fingers curl slightly, like she’s fighting the urge to reach out or pull back.

“what’s it like?” you ask, your voice softer, conspiratorial.

“Working here, i mean.. in this house..in this town.” her expression shifts, something guarded flickering in her eyes, but she doesn’t look away.

“it’s… quiet..” she says after a moment, her voice low, like she’s choosing her words carefully.

“people don’t talk much, not to me, anyway, but i see things, hear things, your family’s got a lot of eyes on them.”

you feel a jolt, like her words have brushed against something raw.

she’s not wrong, everyone in this city watches you, waits for you to slip, to prove you’re more than just your father’s shadow.

but the way she says it, the way her eyes hold yours, makes you feel exposed in a way you’re not used to. “and what do you see?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it, your voice barely above a whisper.

ellie’s gaze sharpens, and for a moment, you think she might deflect, might retreat into the deference she’s supposed to show.

but instead, she leans in just a fraction, her voice dropping to match yours.

“i see you,” she says, and the words land like a spark on dry tinder.

“not just the fancy clothes or the big house, you’re… different, like you’re waiting for something.” your breath catches, and the space between you feels impossibly small now, charged with something you can’t name but can’t ignore.

her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching, and you feel the weight of her words settle into you, heavy and warm.

you could step back, break the moment, remind her of the lines that separate you.

but you don’t.

you stand there, caught in the pull of her gaze, the loneliness you felt earlier dissolving into something sharper, something that feels dangerously alive.

──────────────────────────────

the second day without your father dawns quieter than the first, the sprawling house still cloaked in that heavy, expectant silence.

you’ve retreated to your art room, a sunlit space tucked away in the east wing, where canvases lean against walls and the air smells faintly of turpentine and dried paint.

it’s one of the few places in the mansion where you feel untethered, where the weight of your last name doesn’t press so hard.

today, you’re trying to paint yourself, a self-portrait, an attempt to capture the restlessness churning inside you.

the canvas stares back, half finished, your features rendered in soft, uncertain strokes.

it’s not right.

it’s not you.

you’re perched on a stool, wearing a loose, sleeveless dress that clings lightly to your frame, the neckline dipping lower than you’d wear in public, the hem riding up your thighs as you shift to adjust your brush.

the fabric feels like a rebellion against the polished blazers and tailored slacks you’re usually seen in, a small act of defiance in this too big house.

you’re so focused on the canvas, on the way the light hits your painted cheekbone, that you don’t hear the door creak open.

“knock knock.” ellie’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and teasing, pulling you out of your thoughts.

you turn, paintbrush still in hand, and there she is, leaning against the doorframe, her flannel unbuttoned at the collar, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

her auburn hair is half loose today, brushing her shoulders, and her green eyes flick from you to the canvas with a spark of curiosity.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumps at her sudden presence.

“didn’t realize you were invited.” you say, but there’s no real bite in your tone.

you’re glad she’s here, even if you won’t admit it.

the boredom has been gnawing at you all morning, and her arrival feels like a gust of fresh air.

“figured I’d check on the boss lady.” she says, stepping into the room, her boots scuffing softly against the hardwood.

“see what you get up to when you’re not giving orders.” her eyes linger on you for a moment, catching the exposed curve of your collarbone, the way the dress hugs your thighs, before she glances at the canvas.

“that you?” you nod, setting the brush down and wiping your hands on a rag, smearing a streak of ochre across your knuckles.

“trying to be, not sure it’s working.” you tilt your head, studying the painting, then look back at her.

“what do you think?” ellie steps closer, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, and you notice the way her gaze sharpens as she takes in the canvas.

her lips twitch, and for a second, you think she’s going to laugh.

she catches herself, but not fast enough.

a low, stifled chuckle escapes, and she covers her mouth with one hand, her eyes glinting with mischief.

you huff, crossing your arms, the motion pushing your cleavage up slightly, though you don’t notice.

“what’s so funny?” you demand, your voice edged with mock indignation.

“go on, say it.” she shakes her head, still fighting a grin.

“it’s… uh, it’s not bad,” she says, her voice betraying her amusement.

“just… doesn’t look much like you, too stiff, you’re not that…”

she gestures vaguely at the canvas, searching for the right word.

“posed.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

her honesty, blunt and unfiltered, is a stark contrast to the careful deference you’re used to from everyone else.

“fine, artist.” you say, tossing the rag onto the table and leaning back on the stool, your thighs shifting slightly, the dress riding up another inch.

“if you’re so good at it, why don’t you draw me?” ellie’s smirk falters for a split second, her eyes flicking to you, then away, like she’s suddenly aware of the challenge she’s walked into.

“me?” she says, pointing to herself, her voice a little higher than usual.

“draw me, let’s see if you can do better.” she hesitates, her gaze darting to the sketchbook, then back to you.

“alright.” she says, her voice dropping into that low, rough register that sends a shiver through you.

“but don’t blame me if it’s worse.” she crosses the room, picking up the sketchbook and pencil, and pulls a chair over to sit a few feet away, facing you.

you adjust your pose, leaning back slightly, one hand resting on the edge of the stool, the other brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

the dress shifts again, the neckline slipping lower, exposing the soft swell of your cleavage, the hem barely covering the tops of your thighs.

you don’t think much of it, you’re in your own space, after all, but ellie notices.

her eyes flick down, just for a moment, before she forces them back to the sketchbook, her jaw tightening.

she starts to sketch, her pencil moving in quick, precise strokes, but you can tell she’s struggling to focus.

her gaze keeps drifting to you, lingering on the curve of your neck, the exposed skin of your chest, the way your thighs press together as you shift.

each time, she catches herself, her cheeks flushing faintly, and she looks back at the paper, her strokes growing less confident.

“tou okay over there?” you ask, your voice teasing, but there’s a warmth to it, a curiosity you can’t suppress.

tou lean forward slightly, and the motion draws her eyes again, her pencil pausing mid line.

“yeah,” she says, too quickly, clearing her throat.

“just… trying to get the angles right.” but her voice is strained, and you can see the way her fingers grip the pencil a little too tightly, the way her eyes keep betraying her, darting to the soft lines of your body before she yanks them back to the page.

you tilt your head, a slow smile curling your lips as you realize what’s happening.

she’s distracted, undone by the sight of you, and the power of that knowledge sends a thrill through you.

you shift again, deliberately this time, letting one leg cross over the other, the dress riding up just enough to expose more of your thigh.

“take your time.” you say, your voice softer now, almost intimate.

“im not going anywhere.” ellie’s breath hitches, barely audible, and her eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment.

there’s that spark again, that raw, unguarded intensity that makes the air feel too small.

she doesn’t laugh this time.

she doesn’t even try to play it off.

she just stares, her pencil hovering over the sketchbook, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter, a thread stretched to its limit, waiting for one of you to pull it taut or let it snap.

time has slipped away, the minutes stretching into what feels like hours as ellie works, her pencil scratching softly against the sketchbook.

the sound is hypnotic, a quiet rhythm that lulls you into a drowsy haze.

you’re still perched on the stool, but your posture has softened, your body slumping slightly, your head tilting as your eyelids grow heavy.

the loose dress still clings to your frame, the low neckline and hiked up hem exposing your cleavage and thighs, but the earlier thrill of teasing her has dulled into a warm, sleepy haze.

you’re half-asleep, caught in that liminal space between awareness and dreams, the tension from earlier simmering beneath the surface but softened by exhaustion.

ellie’s voice breaks the quiet, low and a little hesitant

“done.” the word pulls you back, your eyes fluttering open as you blink away the fog.

you straighten slowly, stretching your arms above your head, the motion tugging the dress even higher on your thighs.

you don’t miss the way her eyes flicker down, just for a second, before she busies herself with the sketchbook, her fingers smudging the edges of the page as if to distract herself.

you slide off the stool, your bare feet brushing the cool floor, and cross the short distance to where she’s sitting.

“let’s see it.” you say, your voice still thick with sleep, but there’s a spark of curiosity there, a need to know what she’s captured.

ellie hesitates, her grip on the sketchbook tightening for a moment before she relents, flipping it around to show you.

you lean in, close enough to catch the faint scent of soap and something earthier on her, like pine or cedar.

your eyes fall on the drawing, and for a moment, you’re silent, caught off guard by what you see.

it’s good.

really good.

the lines are confident, capturing the soft curve of your jaw, the tilt of your head, the way your hair falls in loose waves.

she’s drawn you with a kind of raw honesty, your sleepy eyes, the slight parting of your lips, the relaxed slump of your shoulders.

the way she’s shaded the hollow of your throat, the delicate lines of your collarbone, the suggestion of your cleavage, it’s not overt, not crude, but it’s intimate, like she couldn’t help but linger on those details.

the dress is there, clinging to your form, the hem high on your thighs, and she’s captured the vulnerability of it, the way you look both powerful and exposed.

it’s not just a drawing of you, it’s how she sees you.

you glance up at her, and she’s watching you, her expression unreadable but her eyes betraying a quiet intensity.

her cheeks are faintly flushed, and her fingers twitch against the sketchbook, like she’s bracing for your reaction.

the air feels thick again, that familiar tension coiling back to life, sharper now because of the drawing, because of what it reveals about how she’s been looking at you all this time.

“not bad.” you say, your voice softer than you mean it to be, a teasing lilt creeping in despite the way your heart hammers.

“didn’t think you had it in you.” her lips quirk into a half smile, but it’s strained, like she’s trying to play it cool and failing.

“told you.” she says, her voice rough, her eyes flick to the drawing, then back to you, and for a moment, you think she might say something more, something that would tip this moment over the edge.

but she doesn’t.

she just holds your gaze, her breath steady but shallow, waiting.

you step back, just enough to break the spell, but the heat of her stare lingers on your skin.

your dress feels too thin, your body too exposed, and yet you don’t move to cover yourself.

instead, you tilt your head, letting a slow smile curl your lips.

“you should keep it.” you say, nodding toward the sketchbook.

“might be worth something someday.” ellie’s eyes widen, just a fraction, and then she laughs, a low, nervous sound that makes your chest tighten.

“yeah, right.” she mutters, but she doesn’t tear the page out or close the book.

she just sits there, the sketchbook still open, the drawing of you staring up at both of you like a secret neither of you is ready to name.

the tension hums between you, alive and electric, and you know this moment is a turning point, one you could push, one you could pull back from.

─────────────────────────────

the night has crept in too quickly, the hours slipping through your fingers like sand.

outside, the wind howls, rattling the tall windows of the mansion and sending a chill through the walls that no amount of heat can fully banish.

the cold air seeps into your bones, amplifying the loneliness that’s been gnawing at you since your father left.

the house feels too big, too empty, its grandeur a hollow reminder of your isolation.

you prepare for bed mechanically, slipping into a soft silk nightgown that brushes against your skin, its delicate straps and short hem offering little warmth against the chill.

you pull the heavy duvet over you, curling into the center of your oversized bed, but the loneliness clings tighter than the cold.

the darkness of your room feels oppressive, the shadows pooling in the corners like they’re watching you.

you close your eyes, willing sleep to come, sleep finally claims you, but it’s not peaceful.

a nightmare claws its way in, vivid and suffocating, you’re running through the house, but the halls stretch endlessly, doors vanishing as you reach for them.

something’s chasing you, formless, relentless, and your father’s voice echoes, calling you “little doll” but twisted, mocking.

you stumble, your nightgown catching on something sharp, and the cold air burns your skin as you fall into darkness, alone, trapped.

a scream tears from your throat, muffled by the pillow as you jolt awake, your heart pounding so hard it hurts.

your breaths come in shallow gasps, the room spinning as you clutch the duvet, trying to anchor yourself.

the nightmare’s grip lingers, your skin clammy, your body trembling.

the silence of the house is deafening, broken only by the faint creak of the floorboards outside your door.

then, a soft knock.

“hey… you okay in there?” ellie’s voice, low and cautious, cuts through the haze of fear.

the door creaks open before you can respond, and she steps inside, her silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway.

she’s in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, her hair messy like she’s been roused from sleep, but her eyes are alert, scanning the room before settling on you.

you sit up, pulling the duvet higher to cover yourself, suddenly hyper aware of the thin nightgown, the way it clings to your chest and leaves your shoulders bare.

“i’m fine.” you say, but your voice shakes, betraying you.

you swipe at your damp cheeks, embarrassed by the tears you didn’t realize were there.

“just… bad dream.” ellie hesitates in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, her gaze softening as she takes you in.

“sounded like more than just a bad dream” she says, her voice gentle but firm, like she’s not buying your attempt to brush it off.

she steps closer, her bare feet silent on the rug, and the room feels smaller with her in it, the air charged with a quiet intensity.

“you sure you’re okay?” you want to snap back, to reclaim the armor you wear so easily during the day, but the nightmare’s aftershocks are still rippling through you, and her presence is oddly grounding.

you shake your head, a small, reluctant admission.

“it’s stupid,” you mutter, looking away, your fingers twisting the edge of the duvet.

“i just… i don’t like being alone in this house sometimes.” ellie’s quiet for a moment, and you half-expect her to leave, to mutter something polite and retreat back to the staff quarters.

but she doesn’t.

instead, she moves to the edge of your bed, sitting down carefully, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence.

“not stupid.” she says, her voice low, almost a murmur.

“this place is huge, creepy as hell at night, i’d get spooked too.”

you glance at her, searching for judgment, but there’s none in her expression.

her green eyes are steady, warm, and there’s a faint curve to her lips.

“you don’t have to stay.” you say, though the words feel hollow, like you’re testing her.

you don’t want her to go, not really, not with the cold and the loneliness still pressing in.

she tilts her head, studying you, and there’s that spark in her eyes again, the one that makes your pulse quicken.

“i’m not goin’ anywhere unless you tell me to.” she says, her voice rough but sincere.

her gaze flickers over you, taking in the way you’re curled up, the thin straps of your nightgown, the way your hair falls messily over your shoulders.

it’s not blatant, but it’s enough to make your skin prickle, to remind you of the power you felt earlier when you caught her staring.

the room is quiet again, save for the faint howl of the wind outside, and the space between you feels heavy.

you could send her away, retreat back into the safety of your role, your name.

or you could lean into this, let the tension unravel, see where it takes you.

“sleep next to me.” your voice trembles, a mix of lingering fear from the nightmare and the aching loneliness that’s been eating at you.

you’re still curled under the duvet, the silk nightgown clinging to your skin, your heart pounding as you wait for ellie’s response.

she freezes, her silhouette still on the edge of your bed, her green eyes catching the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains.

for a moment, you think she’ll say no, that she’ll retreat back to the safety of her role, the hired help who shouldn’t cross this line.

but then she nods, her voice low and steady.

“yeah, okay.” ellie shifts, kicking off her boots and sliding onto the bed, keeping a careful distance, a friendly, respectful gap that feels like a chasm despite the tension crackling between you.

she lies on her back, one arm tucked behind her head, the other resting on her stomach, her t shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin above her sweatpants.

the bed is massive, but her presence makes it feel impossibly small, every rustle of the sheets amplifying the heat building in your chest.

you try to close your eyes, to focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing beside you, but sleep won’t come.

the nightmare’s shadow lingers, and so does the memory of her drawing, her gaze, the way she looked at you like you were more than just the boss’s daughter.

the silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words, and you can feel her awake beside you, the air thick with anticipation.

you turn your head, and your breath catches.

she’s already looking at you, her eyes glinting in the dark, wide and unblinking, like she’s been watching you this whole time.

the intensity in her gaze pins you in place, stripping away the pretense, the distance.

you hold her stare, your pulse hammering, the space between you shrinking with every second that passes.

beither of you speaks, but the pull is undeniable, a current dragging you closer.

then, ellie moves.

it’s slow at first, deliberate, like she’s giving you a chance to pull back.

but you don’t.

she shifts closer, her body turning toward you, her hand brushing against your arm under the duvet, sending a shiver through you.

her face is inches from yours now, her breath warm against your lips, and you can see the question in her eyes, the hesitation.

you don’t give her time to overthink it.

you lean in, and she meets you halfway, her lips crashing into yours with a hunger that steals your breath.

the kiss is deep, urgent, her mouth hot and insistent, tasting faintly of mint and something uniquely her.

her hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer, her fingers tangling in your hair as she presses herself against you.

the kiss swallows the tension, replacing it with a raw, desperate need that’s been building since the moment you caught her staring.

ellie pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark with want, her chest heaving.

“you sure?” she rasps, her voice rough, like she’s fighting to keep control.

you nod, your own voice failing you, and that’s all she needs.

she surges forward, kissing you harder, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you.

her hands roam, sliding under the hem of your nightgown, her calloused fingers grazing the soft skin of your thighs, making you gasp into her mouth.

she’s not gentle, but there’s a purpose to her touch, a reverence in the way she explores you, like she’s been imagining this for days.

she pushes you onto your back, straddling your hips, her weight grounding you as she kisses down your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin above your collarbone.

your nightgown is bunched up around your waist now, and she pauses, her eyes raking over you, taking in the exposed skin, the way your chest rises and falls.

“fuck.” she mutters under her breath, almost to herself, and the raw desire in her voice sends a pulse of heat through you.

her mouth is on you again, but this time it’s different, hungrier, rougher.

she spits into her hand, her movements deliberate, and you feel the slick warmth of her fingers as they slide between your thighs, teasing you open.

you moan, the sound swallowed by the dark, and she smirks against your skin, her fingers circling your clit with a precision that makes your hips buck.

“so fuckin’ wet,” she murmurs, her voice low and filthy, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you.

she doesn’t tease for long.

her fingers slip inside you, two at first, stretching you with a slow, deliberate rhythm that has you arching into her touch.

she’s relentless, curling her fingers just right, her thumb pressing against your clit in time with her thrusts.

the bed creaks under you, the sound mingling with your gasps, the wet slick of her fingers, her low, ragged breathing.

she’s fucking you like she means it, like she’s staking a claim, and you’re helpless beneath her, your body responding to every touch, every thrust.

her other hand grips your thigh, spreading you wider, and she leans down, spitting directly onto your cunt, the act so brazen it shocks you into another moan.

the added slickness makes her fingers glide faster, rougher, and you’re unraveling, the coil in your core tightening with every second.

she’s watching you, her eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, like she’s memorizing you.

“ellie!” you choke out, your voice breaking, and her pace quickens, her fingers driving deeper, harder.

you’re close, teetering on the edge, and in the haze of it all, the words spill out, raw and unfiltered.

“i- love you.”Her movements falter for a split second, her eyes widening, a flash of shock, fear, maybe disbelief, crossing her face.

“what? no…” she says, her voice rough, almost panicked, but she doesn’t stop.

if anything, she fucks you harder, her fingers relentless, her lips crashing back to yours to silence you, to drown out the weight of your words.

tou don’t care.

you’re too far gone, your body chasing release, your hands clawing at her shoulders, pulling her closer.

the orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing through you, your body shuddering as you cry out, your nails digging into her skin.

ellie keeps going, drawing it out, her fingers slowing but not stopping until you’re trembling, oversensitive and gasping beneath her.

she finally pulls back, her hand slick and glistening, her chest heaving as she looks down at you, her expression unreadable.

you’re still catching your breath, your body buzzing, the room spinning.

the weight of what you said hangs between you, heavy and unresolved, but she doesn’t say anything else.

she just watches you, her eyes dark, her lips parted, like she’s caught between running and staying.

the cold air feels sharper now, the loneliness you felt earlier banished but replaced with something new—something fragile, something dangerous. You don’t know what she’s thinking, but you know this moment has changed everything.

your heart is still racing, your body trembling in the aftermath of your release, the air thick with the weight of your confession.

the words “i love you” hang between you like a live wire, raw and exposed, and you’re scrambling to take them back, to undo the vulnerability you’ve just laid bare.

“i-im sorry, i didn’t know why i said that—” you stammer, your voice shaky, your cheeks burning as you try to meet ellie’s gaze.

she’s still hovering above you, her t shirt rumpled, her hair a mess, her eyes dark and unreadable.

her chest heaves, her slick fingers flexing at her side like she’s trying to ground herself.

for a moment, you think she might address it, might confront the words you let slip, but instead...

“sit on my face.” she says, her voice low and commanding, rough with desire.

the bluntness of it steals your breath, your apology dissolving into a startled gasp.

her eyes lock on yours, unyielding, daring you to hesitate, to shy away.

there’s no room for shame in her tone, no space for the awkwardness you feel creeping in, just raw, unfiltered want.

you blink, your mind catching up to her words, your body already responding despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

“w-what?” you manage, but it’s weak, more reflex than resistance.

the idea sends a fresh wave of heat through you, your thighs clenching instinctively, and she notices, her smirk widening.

“you heard me.” she says, shifting to lie back on the bed, her hands resting casually behind her head, her posture all confidence, like she’s already picturing you above her.

“c’mere. i’m not done with you.” her voice is a challenge, a pull you can’t resist, and the way she’s looking at you, like you’re hers, like she’s claiming every inch of you, makes your pulse pound.

you hesitate for a heartbeat, the vulnerability of your earlier confession still stinging, but the heat in her gaze, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips, drowns it out.

you want this.

you want her.

slowly, you move, climbing over her, your nightgown still bunched around your hips, your skin flushed and sensitive from her earlier touch.

her hands find your thighs as you position yourself, guiding you, her fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to make you shiver.

you hover above her face, your breath hitching, suddenly hyper aware of every detail, her freckles, the scar cutting through her eyebrow, the way her eyes burn with anticipation.

“ellie…” you murmur, half a question, half a plea, but she doesn’t give you time to second guess.

“down.” she says, her voice a growl, and she pulls you closer, her strength surprising you as she guides you until you’re straddling her face, your thighs trembling on either side of her head.

the first brush of her mouth against you is electric, a jolt that makes you gasp, your hands flying to the headboard for balance.

her tongue is relentless, lapping at you with a hunger that feels like it’s unraveling you from the inside out, her hands gripping your hips to keep you exactly where she wants you.

you’re a mess of gasps and moans, your body moving instinctively, grinding against her mouth as she works you with a precision that’s almost brutal.

she’s not gentle, she’s devouring you, spitting against your clit before sucking it hard, the wet heat of her mouth driving you higher, faster.

your thighs shake, your nails dig into the wood of the headboard, and the tension from earlier, the unspoken weight of your words, dissolves into pure sensation.

“fuck, ellie!” you whimper, your voice breaking, and you feel her groan against you, the vibration sending another shockwave through your core.

she’s relentless, her tongue circling, her lips closing around you, her hands urging you to move, to take what you need.

the room spins, the cold air forgotten, the loneliness banished by the heat of her mouth, the strength of her grip.

you’re close again, too fast, the coil in your core tightening until it’s unbearable.

your hips buck, and she doubles down, her tongue plunging deeper, her hands bruising your thighs as she holds you in place.

the release hits you like a storm, a cry tearing from your throat as you come, your body shuddering above her, waves of pleasure crashing through you until you’re gasping, boneless, clinging to the headboard to stay upright.

she doesn’t stop, not immediately, her tongue slowing but still teasing, drawing out every aftershock until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.

finally, she pulls back, her lips glistening, her eyes half lidded and smug as she looks up at you.

you slide off her, collapsing onto the bed beside her, your chest heaving, your mind blank except for the lingering buzz of your orgasm.

the silence returns, but it’s different now, less heavy, more charged.

she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her breathing still uneven, and glances at you, her expression unreadable but softer than before.

the weight of your earlier confession lingers, unaddressed, but for now, it’s buried under the raw intensity of what just happened.

you don’t know what this means, what tomorrow will bring, but as you catch her eye, you know one thing for certain.

the two of you are not finished.

#ellie smut #tlou ellie #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams tlou x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #wlw #lesbian #wlw smut #꣑ৎ e. williams ── written by kai

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joeyfromthetrack · 2 months ago

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Midnight in Algarve - OP⁸¹

Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

Summary: The younger sister of Lando Norris, has spent three years quietly crushing on his teammate, Oscar Piastri. During a birthday getaway in Portugal, with their rooms side by side and the pressure of the paddock behind them, years of unspoken tension come to a head as Oscar and Y/n finally admit their feelings and cross the line from longing to something real.

Contains: smut (18th+ only), fluff, mentions of alcohol, (some) use of Y/n

Word count: 2.4k

Y/n Norris had always been good at pretending.

Pretending she was fine when strangers at paddocks asked if she was dating one of the drivers. Pretending not to notice when journalists used her as a footnote in Lando’s rising stardom. And especially pretending not to look too long at Oscar Piastri.

Three years ago, she’d first met him at her brother’s post-race dinner in Barcelona. She was 20, fresh off exams, wide-eyed and exhausted, sipping wine like it was a survival tactic. Oscar had been seated across from her —grinning, tan, leaning back in his chair comfortably, not cockily like her brother does, he had the shy and polite factor about him.

“So, you’re the famous Y/n,” he’d said, offering his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Her heart had betrayed her with a skip even then.

She remembered how he made her laugh so hard she nearly choked on her drink. Remembered the flicker in his eyes when she touched his arm as she leaned in to whisper something. His eyes - they were so gorgeous, so soft, so inviting, she just wanted to stare into them forever.

But the night had ended, as they always did, with a hug, a casual “see you around,” and the unspoken understanding that she was off-limits. She was Lando’s little sister. That was the boundary—silent but impossible to ignore.

And yet, he kept showing up in small ways.

He always greeted her first when they crossed paths at races. Remembered the coffee she ordered at the team hospitality every race, he started having one already made for her for when she arrived shortly after him at races.

Every interaction lingered longer than it should have. Every accidental brush of shoulders or locked glance stirred something electric under her skin. And always—always—they both looked away too quickly, both of their faces flushing what they were both sure was a bright red.

Now, in Portugal, almost three years of pining, proximity, and polite distance were burning in the summer heat.

The holiday house Lando had booked for his 26th birthday was sprawling and sunlit, filled with noise and movement. She had volunteered to help organise everything: the playlist, the food, the rooms. She’d found out she’d be staying in the room next to Oscar before he did.

That knowledge had haunted her for the days leading up to the trip.

The first night, she came out for water and found him barefoot, shirtless, sleepy-eyed. Her mouth had gone dry.

“Midnight hydration club?” he’d teased.

She’d nodded, unable to form words at first.

It was like that, always: the flutter in her chest, the need to act normal. It was exhausting.

There was no interaction after that, she sat in silence on the cool stone of the countertop, sipping from her water bottle and Oscar left the room a minute later, looking back at her momentarily.

Oscar was no better.

From the moment he met her, she had settled under his skin in a way no one else had. She was sharp-witted, sweet and terrifyingly smart (unlike her brother). He remembered her laugh in Barcelona. The one where her whole face lit up. He’d heard it only a few times since—each one burned into memory.

He told himself it was just a crush. That it would pass.

It didn’t.

He kept it all quiet. Because of Lando. Because of timing.

But it didn’t stop the wanting.

Now, in Portugal, the walls between them felt thinner than ever—literally and metaphorically. He caught glimpses of her on the terrace, at breakfast, air drying her hair on the balcony. Every time she laughed, he looked up like he’d been summoned.

That night, when the party was in full swing, he found himself drifting upstairs before midnight, needing air. Or space. Or just the faint hope that he might bump into her.

She found him instead, sitting outside his room with a beer in hand.

“You’re hiding,” she said, sinking down beside him.

“You first.”

She smiled. “I love my brother to pieces, but this isn't my scene.”

He hummed in agreement. She looked tired, but still luminous—bare shoulders, flushed cheeks, hair curling slightly from the sea air.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“Dangerous,” she teased.

He smirked, but then turned serious. “About you.”

She stilled.

“I think about you more than I should,” he said softly. “Always have.”

She turned to face him fully, heart thudding. "You've been drinking Osc." She told him softly.

He held up the beer in his hand, unopened. "Haven't had any actually." She stays silent, unsure of how to react. He let out a quiet breath. “Three years.”

“Three years,” she echoed, she could hear her own heartbeat at blood pulses in her ears.

“Do you know how hard it’s been not to look at you too long? Not to sit next to you at dinner or ask for your number when Lando’s not around?”

She smiled, crooked. “You could’ve.”

“I was scared.”

She looked at him then—not just glanced, but really looked. Saw the flicker of nerves, the earnestness underneath the easy charm. “I’m scared too,” she admitted.

A silence settled over them. The air buzzed with everything unsaid.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, voice low, reverent. Her breath caught.“But only if you want me to,” he added.

She leaned in, so close he could smell the citrus in her shampoo. “I’ve been waiting three years for you to say that.”

And then, finally, they kissed.

It wasn’t fireworks. It was relief. It was three years of what-ifs melting into what was. Her fingers in his hair. His hands gentle at her waist. They moved like they’d done this before, in dreams or imagined moments.

The pull apart momentarily, looking into the depths of each others before leaning back in, lips locking again in a soft but passionate kiss.

The kiss deepened, and she felt herself drowning in him. His lips were firm yet gentle, his hands on her waist, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, and for a moment, the world around them ceased to exist.

Suddenly they were standing, he tapped her thigh, motioning for her to jump. So she did, wrapping her legs around his waist, his hand moving to ass to support her, lips still locked, breathing heavy between the both of them. She knew what was going to happen, her heart was pounding but she was going to let it happen, it's all she's wanted for three years.

He led her into his room, kicking the door shut behind them and he placed her down on the edge of the bed, he bends over, hands either side of her body so his face is level with hers.

They shared a soft moment both of them understanding each other's feelings just through their eyes, both in agreeance with what was about to happen.

“You’re so beautiful,” Oscar murmured, his breath warm against her skin as he pulled her shirt off, revealing the lace bra beneath. His eyes darkened with desire, and Y/n felt a flush spread across her chest.

“Oscar,” she whispered, her voice trembling as his lips trailed down her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His touch was confident yet respectful, as if he knew exactly how much she needed to be cherished.

He paused, his hands resting on her hips as he looked up at her. "Baby, are you sure you wanna do this?" he said, his voice rough with need.

“I'm so sure,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, a string of words only for their ears.

Oscar’s expression softened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing hers once more. “Then let me show you how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his hands moving to her bra, unhooking it with practiced ease.

She closed her eyes as he slid the straps down her arms, her breasts exposed to his gaze. She felt a mix of fear and excitement, her heart racing as his hands cupped her, his thumbs brushing her nipples. A soft moan escaped her lips, and she tilted her head back, surrendering to the sensations flooding her body.

“You’re perfect,” Oscar whispered, his lips trailing down her chest, his tongue teasing her nipple until she arched into his touch. His hands moved to her skirt, his fingers deftly unzipping it as he kissed his way down her stomach.

She gasped as her skirt fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her panties. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but Oscar’s gaze was so full of adoration that she couldn’t feel anything but desired.

He knelt before her, his hands resting on her thighs as he looked up at her. He said her name, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her breath coming in short gasps. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her.

Oscar’s hands moved to her panties, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he slid them down her legs. She shivered as they fell to the floor, leaving her completely bare. She felt his gaze on her, warm and hungry, and she couldn’t help but squirm under his attention.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated, his voice a whisper as he leaned in, his lips brushing her inner thigh. She gasped, her hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way closer to her core. "Such a pretty girl." He said against the skin of her thigh.

“Oscar,” she breathed, her voice a plea as his lips hovered just above her core, his breath teasing her.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice commanding yet gentle.

She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing as she met his gaze. “I want you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I want you to make me feel… everything.”

Oscar’s expression softened, and he leaned in, his lips finally pressing against her, his tongue teasing her clit in a way that made her cry out. His touch was skilled, his mouth moving with a rhythm that had her squirming, her body arching off the bed.

“Oscar,” she moaned, her hands gripping his hair as he sucked gently, his tongue flicking in a way that sent waves of pleasure through her.

Her moans and whimpers were like music to his ears, only encouraging his actions in pleasuring her. She felt herself spiraling, her body tightening as she neared the edge.

“Come for me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he continued his ministrations. “Let go, honey.”

His words were her undoing. She cried out, her body shaking as she climaxed, her release overwhelming in its intensity. Oscar held her through it, his hands gentle on her thighs as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

When she finally came down, She was breathless, her body limp as she leaned back against the bed. Oscar sat up, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

She nodded, her voice too weak to form words. She reached out, her hand resting on his cheek as she pulled him in for another kiss. It was softer this time, a tender exchange that spoke of everything they couldn’t say.

“Oscar,” she pants. “Please…”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire. “Please what, honey?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “Tell me what you want.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. “I want you to take me,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “All of me.”

Oscar’s eyes flared with a primal intensity, he stood to take his shirt and shorts along with his boxers off and he kissed her deeply, his hands moving to her thighs, spreading them wide. Her breath hitched as he positioned himself between her legs, his erection pressing against her core. Her eyes wide as she took in his naked form.

“Ready for me?” he asked, his voice a husky command.

She nodded, her eyes locked on his. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Oscar. All of me.”

He thrust into her in one smooth motion, filling her completely. She gasped, her head tipping back as he began to move, his hips snapping with a rhythm that was both urgent and deliberate. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in her body singing with pleasure as he claimed her with a ferocity that left no doubt of his devotion.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against hers. “So fucking perfect.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she met his thrusts with equal fervor. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion—the slick rhythm of their bodies, their ragged breaths, and the occasional soft curse that escaped Oscar’s lips.

“Harder,” she pleaded, her voice desperate. “Please, Oscar, harder.”

He obliged, his movements becoming more forceful, his hands gripping her hips as he pounded into her with a primal intensity. She cried out, her body trembling on the edge of release, every thrust pushing her closer to the edge.

“Come for me, honey,” Oscar commanded, his voice hoarse with need. “Let go.”

His words were her undoing. Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave, her body convulsing around him as she cried out his name. Oscar followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he filled her with his release, his deep groans of pleasure echoing in the room.

For a long moment, they remained locked together, their hearts pounding in unison, their breaths slowly returning to normal. Oscar withdrew gently, his hand brushing a stray curl from her forehead as he looked down at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

He kissed her softly, a promise sealed in the tender press of their lips. As they lay entwined in the aftermath of their passion.

When they broke apart, she laughed—a small, breathless sound.

“We’re screwed,” she said.

“Completely,” he agreed, grinning.

“But happy?”

“Very.”

Outside, the sea kept whispering against the cliffs, but inside, a different kind of tide had turned.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri smut #f1 smut

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chezzhire · 10 days ago

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cw: afab, mentions of (implied) smut, suggestive language (mdni)

body piercer!suguru who's your boyfriend & tonight, you're the one getting your nipples pierced🍒

After hours, no music.

The studio's quiet now, stripped down after the neon sign outside's been flicked off, the last client long gone– some botoxed bimbo who wouldn't stop clawing at your boyfriend even until payment. Your Sugu remained professional with his usual smile –silk over steel–, but any more of that bitch's fake lashes flapping and you're certain you would've jumped at her from behind the counter.

Now, beyond, in the back room where dusk hangs stale, you’re sat where the clients usually lie, reclined half-nervous on that vinyl-padded table. Legs swinging a little, toes brushing against the edge of the stool.

Suguru's busy washing his hands, dark hair tied up and curling loose at the nape of his neck. He turns back fully, back latex snapping against his wrists.

"You’re sure?" He asks, because.

"I said I was," you huff, pulling the hem of your top in a nervous twist. "And you said it wouldn’t hurt that much."

Suguru snorts, reaching for a fresh tray of sterilized instruments. "I said it wouldn’t kill you. That’s different." He turns, eyes dark, soft as wet ink. "I know what I'm doing. You trust me, don't ya?"

He’s always calm when he’s working— methodical.

You swallow. You do, so you nod.

"Okay." He instructs simply. "Top off. Lay down, arms by your side."

You hesitate only for a beat. Stripping without flourish, tits catching the low light, and you lie back, skin prickling with the air-conditioned chill. Suguru moves closer. His head dips forward, studying the soft of your skin, the flush that spreads over the curve of your breast. He adjusts the light overhead, fingers brushing your ribs to angle you. They’re warm, steady. Familiar.

You flinch when he swabs you down, even if his touch is gentle. Cool antiseptic against warm buds.

"Straight bar or curved?"

"Whichever you think," you murmur. You trust him with this. With everything.

He nods once and preps the needle. Hollow, sharp, sterile. You shut your eyes.

"Take a deep breath." A command and a comfort. Said like he’s done this a hundred times. Said like he’s doing this to you. You inhale.

The needle pierces through, and you exhale through clenched teeth, but your hands stay flat on the table. It's done fast. He’s already soothing the skin, moving so carefully it makes your head spin. You’re trembling just a little, more from adrenaline than pain.

He slips the jewellery through with practiced grace. With that, one glint of silver where skin once ruled.

"You’re doing perfect," he says, softer now.

Your lashes flutter, "Feels like I’m on fire."

"Good fire."

Theres a raw, tingling ache gnawing at your chest. You hear the second set-up a few feet away, so you take the moment to let the rush settle down, catch your breath.

With that, your mind wanders off-course, drifting back to the woman earlier: hair sitting in neat, wild waves like she's in some 90s blowout commercial, deafened by an obvious breast implant spilling out her low-cut top. You remember getting there early, the way Suguru clearly greeted you with a kiss yet she still leaned forward to make her big ass boobs hard to miss as Suguru walked her through the aftercare. The thought aggravates you and briefly you wonder if there were many more like her...

In your state of unease, casually— or trying to be:

"Hey," you call, voice thinner than you'd like. Your fingers curl into your palm. "You ever done this for other girls?"

Suguru pauses, glances over his shoulder. "You mean… nipples?"

"Nips. Vajays. Whatever’s under the towel." You dont smile nor blink. Simply hold his gaze, "I mean– you’ve done all that before, right?"

He returns, glides back with the chiar to you, "Yea. Some guys too. Comes with the job."

You hum once, you knew that. But knowing and feeling are two different beasts. "So, like... you seen a lot of girls naked."

"I don’t see girls naked," he retorts plainly. "I see body parts. Areas. I see placement, tension, veins I don't wanna hit."

The clamp tightens on your nipple. "It's not... like this."

"But it's intimate."

He shrugs, though not carelessly. “In a way, maybe." His fingers tighten the clamp a final time, the pressure on your nipple almost agonizing. "This, though..."

"This is different."

Your breath hitches as the needle in his hand nears your left tit, “W-what makes this different?”

"You’re mine." The needle glides smoothly into your nipple, a quick, practised motion. You wince and he takes the chance to look at you properly, "You. I see you, not just any another. Other girls: clients, it’s my job. I pierce, I explain aftercare, they pay, leave. I don’t recall their perfume. Dont memorize the way they breathe through the needle. I don’t see them in my bed afterwards."

You’re already breathless, but he keeps going— cruelly calm.

"I don't kiss them. Don’t touch their hair or call 'em pretty. I don't think of how good they'd sound like you'd moan for me when I fuck you," He squeezes the flesh of your mound. "Dont wanna take them home 'n put my face between their legs just to make them forget the sting."

“That’s you," the needle sinks out. "Only you."

You're stammering at this point. "T–.. that's..."

"Which is why this–... this," he repeats, and he doesn’t laugh but you feel the sound anyway, "Is more personal."

It's old news, but you're laid bare —literally and mentally— and his words hit deeper than the piercing ever could.

"S-so what? You don't–... get off on... big tits? Or women's pussies?"

Suguru's pretty when he frowns, "The only pair of tits and pussy I care about is yours, dumbass."

You shiver, full-body.

With both piercings done now, his eyes track your every move as you ease your elbows first on the table, studying you, his gaze lingering on your chest with a hint of familiarity mixed with something else. His hand comes up to rest and squeeze at your thigh, "How do they feel?"

The table crinkles under you, cool against your bare back. The sting from the fresh metal makes you wince; its quite unpleasant, to be fair.

"Strange? Weird... but like– good weird. My boobs are throbbing tho."

He huffs in amusement, bringing your hand to his lips, "Mm-hm, that's normal. You did good."

Suguru cleans gently around the new piercings; afterwards the echo of the metal trays & the roll of his chair is prominent once again. "You’ll feel pressure for a few days," he says, stepping back to strip off his gloves. "Tenderness is normal. So is sensitivity."

Your eyes follow him going to wipe down his tools at the table, fingers already stained faintly with disinfectant.

You're staring at the silver flicker dangling from his ears. Up the loosely tied bun. Down to the expanse of his rippled back underneath the dark top. Heart caught between your ribs & something less stable.

Suguru always works with a clinical precision. Even now, with the room dim and the city long past golden hour, he moves like it’s just another Tuesday, just another piece of skin, another body.

But it’s yours. And he’s your boyfriend. So it’s different.

The studio feels colder by the night now. Or maybe more real. It warms your insides.

Enough to reel out another bait.

"Then..." You pull your top back halfway up your arms, "have you ever had like, a hard-on while doing it?"

You watch him tilt his head up and sigh, more out of disbelief than annoyance, "For fuck's... are you serious?"

"Sugu', c'mon~"

"—Only once."

"Tonight?"

He doesn't bother to answer.

a/n: bc this specific scene has plagued my mind for DAYS i manned up skdjdjk

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾✩☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

#suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #geto x reader #geto fluff #getou fluff #suguru fluff #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk suguru #jjk smut #suguru smut

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dissolved-g1rl · 22 days ago

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dante + pizza delivery girl reader >⩊< ⋆˚࿔

“I’m just saying—I think I deserve the refund.” Dante says calmly, holding crumpled bills in his hand. The pizza is already set on the closest counter. You really should’ve accepted the payment first. “W-What? I got it here on time!” You sputter, You hate coming over to his stupid shitty bachelor pad. He always tries to bargain with you, it’s practically everyday that he’s calling, requesting that you are the one to deliver his dinner. “Uh yeah but it’s barely even warm, y’know I think you should come in, gimme your bosses number and we’ll…discuss.” He says brushing his hair back. “As if you creep!” You immediately say, feeling a wave of warmth running over you. He’s a good looking guy, too good looking for a guy that lives off your shitty pizza, worst of all he’s inviting you in. “A creep? You can’t call me that, i’m a paying customer!” He says putting his hand on his chest like he’s offended. “You haven’t paid yet!” You say exasperated. He rolls his eyes, handing over rumpled bills. “Zero stars.” He says bopping your head which makes you grumble. “See you tomorrow!” He calls out when you make your way off his porch. He lingers for a moment, oh how he loves to watch you walk away.

“Just the girl I wanted to see!” Dante chimes, opening the door before you can even knock. “Hot this time?” He hums accepting the pizza before you can take his cash again. “I—yes.” You frown, feeling a weird knot in your stomach because he’s bold enough to answer the door in a towel. “You’re really lacking some customer service skills, y’know that?” He hums, tapping his fingers against his chin thoughtfully “You’re lacking normal guy skills!” You retort “Nice one.” He laughs the wave of embarrassment drags you under, great, “Come inside, it’s…cold out, hafta get your cash.” He chirps, turning on his heel. You contemplate just leaving, the wide pale expanse of his back lulls you in, he must really go to the gym, you don’t know how else he’d have such killer back muscles. Wide shoulders that taper into a thinner waste, he has a few freckles on his back, you wonder if he knows. You’re tempted inside, biting the inside of your cheek as you shut his front door. It’s about what you’d expect, creaky hardwood floors, vaguely dusty but not entirely unclean. He shuffles back into the loft the towel replaced for a pair of sweats, cash in hand. "Y'know I was thinking—" He starts "Uh-oh" You chide half way through his sentence, which earns you a sigh. "I was thinking, I should probably start tipping you for all your hard work. You keep me so well fed y'know?" He hums waving the cash in your face. "The regular is fine, don't wanna put you out." You murmur referring to his lackluster bachelor pad. He rolls his eyes, "Oh c'mon don't be modest, I'm sure there's something I could give you that you'd appreciate." He hums in a way that makes you think you've been transported to some cheap porno. "Umm... I dunno... I mean y'know my boss 'n stuff.' You say stalling for time awkwardly twiddling your fingers, A quick glance down shows the sizable print aching against the front of his sweats, and every reasonable thought gets flushed down the toilet. "See something you like?" He giggles in a way grown men shouldn't be able to do. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" You squeak “Oh c’mon, you looked, don’t blame being a little perv on me.” He chides, placing his hands on his hips, his sweats sag low, showing off his toned adonis belt. You retreat from his front door with a squeal, working at a pizzeria is enough sausage for one lifetime..thanks. “So…i’ll call you?!” He says poking his head out the door with a big grin as you tread in the opposite direction. You’ll come around eventually, he’s sure

dividers by @andromeda-graphics

#dante sparda x you #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda #dmc dante #dmc #dante x reader #dante sparda x female reader #.☘︎ ݁˖

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cuzxai · 2 months ago

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too close for comfort - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: just a lil blurb— trying to be quiet with the team around you (no pnv)

It’s always the worst motels when the cases go too long. This one’s got buzzing lights and a TV remote that barely works and they somehow crammed four beds into a room that’s really meant for two. You were the last one in, which meant the dreaded pull-out couch. You didn’t mind, you’d spent a few nights in worse but the second Spencer in behind you with his go-bag, you knew. Of course it’d be him. Morgan and Hotch were already passed out. JJ and Emily had staked out the last real bed. So now it’s just you and him, pressed together on a mattress thinner than your patience and you can feel every inch of him against you. Chest to back. Arm draped over your waist. Nose buried against your neck.

He’s warm. He’s twitchy. And he hasn’t stopped squirming since the lights went out. “Spence,” you whisper, barely above the hum of the AC. “You good?”His breath catches against your skin. “Yeah,” he says quickly, too quickly. “Sorry, I just… you’re really soft.” You can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes. “That a compliment or an excuse?”Silence. “Both?” It’s not what he says, it’s the way he says it. A little breathy. A little embarrassed. Like his brain’s moving faster than his mouth and he knows it. His hand shifts a little on your waist, fingers spreading out like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. “Spencer…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again but he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t pull back. His hips press forward just the slightest bit and that’s when you feel it. The slow roll of him against your ass, nothing but too-thin sweats between you and his breath stutters out against your shoulder like he knows he shouldn’t be doing this. “You’re hard,” you whisper, not even teasing—just a fact. “I know,” he groans softly. “I’ve been trying not to move but you—you’re making it impossible. I can’t—” You shift back into him gently, giving him the tiniest bit of pressure. He gasps. “You want to?” you ask. “Like this?” He nods against your neck and when he remembers you can’t see him, he breathes “Please.” You hum, lips curling slightly. “Just be quiet. You’re gonna wake the others…” That’s all it takes. His hips stutter forward again, this time firmer and slower. You feel the way he tries to pace himself, like he’s calculating the friction and pressure and angles in his head but it’s all failing because his brain’s mush right now. You can hear it in his breath, feel it in his grip—tightening around your waist, then smoothing down to your thigh.“God, I’m sorry. I know this is—mmph—stupid,” he mumbles. “I just need it, I’ve needed it all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you in this little t-shirt and how warm you are and—fuck, I’m not gonna last, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you whisper, voice soft but solid. “You’re okay. Just keep going. You feel good.” He moans into your neck, trying to swallow it down halfway through, like he knows one sound too loud might get you both killed by a grumpy Morgan or Emily. The thought almost makes you laugh but then he ruts forward a little too hard and it punches the air right out of you. His hand finds yours where it’s fisted in the sheets. Fingers lacing. Holding tight.“I’m close,” he whispers, frantic now. “Please, can I? I need to— oh god.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Let go.” He chokes on a sound. You feel him shake against you, feel the way his hips stutter and then press flush as he gasps, going still for a second—then stiller. You just lie there for a second, listening to his breathing even out, heart still hammering through his chest.“…That was so embarrassing,” he mumbles into your shoulder. You smile.“Maybe a little,” you tease. “But you came so fast, I doubt anyone noticed.”His laugh is muffled and mortified. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“…No, I really don’t.” You lean back into him and squeeze his hand. He’s still hard, even after and you know he probably won’t stop thinking about this all night. But you’re okay like this—quiet, hidden in the dark, sticky and tangled and slightly wrong in the best kind of way. You’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.

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mihanisms · 3 months ago

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Fuck. Caleb has no idea how he ended up in this situation. The last thing he remembers is your pretty, doe-like eyes, wide with mischief, and that perverted smile curling at your plush lips, hypnotizing him.

"Trust me, baby. You’ll like it."

He’s not so sure about that now.

The ropes on his arms feel foreign—usually, it’d be you bound up, whining and pleading for more from him. But now, he’s the one spread out, wrists tugged above his head, muscles twitching under the restraints as he watches you beneath him, breath shallow. His cock stands flushed and aching between his legs, contrasting the cool, glistening metal resting against his tip.

"Relax, Caleb," you murmur, trailing your fingers down his stomach, light and teasing. "You trust me, don’t you?"

He does. God, he does. But the unfamiliar weight of hesitance is coiled tight in his gut, warring with the sharp edge of anticipation. The slick press of the instrument at his slit is so delicate, nearly innocent. His fingers flex against the bindings, jaw tightening as heat builds low in his stomach.

He swallows hard, throat drying up. "Baby, I don’t- Fuck- I-I don’t even know what I’m doing…"

"That’s okay," you purr, watching the way his body shudders. "You don’t have to. I made sure to do aaaaall my research before this. It won’t hurt….too much?"

Caleb lets out a sharp exhale, his fingers curling into fists against the restraints. His heart is hammering against his ribs, his voice rough around the edges. "Not sure that’s making me feel any better, honey."

You only smile, tilting your head as you give the dilator the slightest push forward. His jaw clenches as the cool metal dips past the tight ring of his slit, and oh, fuck, that’s….that’s different. His hips stutter, his body caught between retreat and curiosity. His cock twitches, betraying him, and he glares down at the rod teasing the entrance of his cock like it’s personally offended him.

You hold it still between your fingers, the gleaming silver catching the light, and Caleb watches it with wide, cautious eyes like it’s a weapon you’re driving into his heart. Catching the emotions swirling on his face, your smile turns softer, lips finding his inner thigh. “It’s thinner than you think. I’ll go slow. Just focus on what you feel, alright?”

He doesn’t answer—can’t answer, too busy trying not to flinch as you let the weight and gravity do most of the work, easing the rod in millimeter by millimeter. His cock jolts in your grip, and his hips shift instinctively like he doesn’t know whether to push away or into you.

“‘S okay?” you ask quietly.

Caleb nods quickly, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of him. “Yeah. Yeah, just…fuck, it’s cold.”

Then, the rod really begins to sink in. His jaw drops, lips parting in a half gasp, half moan as the pressure builds—it’s not pain, but it’s also not pleasure. Not yet, at least. It was more like a bizarre, alien stretch that lights up nerves he didn’t even know existed. With every slow inch, a sensation crawled up from deep within, growing fuller, heavier, and Caleb was heaving even without being touched properly.

“I- God, baby-” He breathes heavily, pupils blown wide. “Wh- What the hell is that?”

“I don’t even-” he groans again as you press just a little deeper, until the rod slips past the tightest part and settles in like it belongs there. His thighs jerk, but your grip steadies him. “S’mthing like this should hurt, right? It’s not supposed to- Ah fuck- Fuck baby, feels like it’s in my stomach.”

You grin. You have him right where you want him to be. “That’s your prostate saying hi, Colonel.”

Caleb laughs, but the noise breaks in the middle. “...Tell it to back the fuck off.”

You hum, amused, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. “Hm. That wasn’t your safeword, was it?” you ask sweetly, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke.

He jolts. Hard.

“Hey-” His jaw tightens as the sound shifts inside him with your movement, pressing against the slick, sensitive walls of his urethra. It’s like there’s a pulse inside him now—like the pleasure is coming from within, surging outward from the center of his cock in waves.

Your hand glides up, mercilessly, expertly- overly patient. Waiting for him to surrender. His length pulses helplessly in your grip, and a fresh bead of precum pushes out around the sound, thick and shiny.

He lets out a ragged breath. “Okay, okay- I get it. New kink unlocked. Ten out of ten. We can stop now, and try this another time when I’m more prepa-”

But you don’t stop. You give him another pump, firmer this time, and watch the way he tenses, words caught in his throat. You hum again, pleased, your hand trailing up to the head of his cock. ”Still not your safeword,” you remark sarcastically, thumb circling the sensitive spot just beneath the head. Not enough to push him over. Just enough to remind him how badly he wants it despite all his hesitation and denial.

He growls. Actually growls, eyes snapping to yours. “You’re mean.”

You pout, mockingly innocent. “You said I could try anything I wanted.”

“I didn’t think you meant torturing me with a goddamn sword in my dick.”

You laugh and start moving again—but this time slower. Languid. Mean, like he complained about. The rod shifts with every stroke, pressing deeper, drawing out tight, involuntary spasms from the depths of his body. He’s gasping now, body tight like a livewire, trapped between frustration and desperate need.

“Baby-” he whines, voice breaking on his next words as his head falls back against the headboard. “Baby, it feels weird feels so so weird-”

You stop.

Caleb feels like he’s about to die.

His breath is uneven, the flush on his ears quickly spreading to his cheeks. “Baby, please, ‘m losing my fuckin’ mind-”

You squeeze enough to make him twitch again. His hips try to buck, but the restraints hold him down, and it drives him up the wall. The metal glides with his motion, brushing something deep—too deep, he thinks—and he chokes on his own moan.

“I want you to lose your mind,” you mumble, kissing his thigh before gently sinking your teeth into his skin. “That’s the whole point.”

He’s trembling—has been, for a while, and your bite does nothing to soothe the storm of sensations traveling through his nervous system.

You can feel the tension radiating off him in waves, his entire body vibrating with the struggle between wanting more and being overwhelmed. The storm inside him is palpable, and you can practically taste the need rolling off his skin.

“Caleb,” you coax, voice dripping with honeyed seduction. “Just let go. You’re already doing so well.”

He shakes his head frantically. “No, no, no- I can’t. I can’t-” The words tumble from his lips, desperate and pleading. His arms strain against the bindings, his body instinctively searching for more friction, more release. The dilator inside him throbs with every movement, and the heat in his stomach builds dangerously close to a breaking point.

Your hand moves with deliberate slowness, tracing the length of his cock while the sound nestles deep within him. He’s close. Too close. The tension builds, unbearable. “You can. You just have to let yourself feel it.”

Caleb’s breath hitches in his throat as you pick up the pace just a little, reveling in the way his body responds. Every jerk, every shudder, is a testament to your control over him.

“Please,” he gasps out, his eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t- Haah-! Please! Just wanna-”

But you hold him there, poised at the edge. You can see the desperation etched into his features, the way his body strains against the restraints as he fights for a release that feels so close yet just out of reach.

“So close.” Your thumb presses down just on the head of his cock, leisurely circling around the handle of the sounding rod. He whimpers, the sound a mixture of frustration and pleasure that has you wanting to draw out more. “So close, baby. Just a little more. You can take it.”

He arches as you drag your hand again, the combination of your motions and the metal creating a tension that has him throbbing with need. “Please!” he cries, the word spilling from his lips in a rush. “I’m begging you, just let me-”

You tighten your hold just enough to keep him on the edge, your thumb moving in a teasing rhythm that’s driving him up the wall. “But I want your eyes open, baby,” you coo softly. “Want you to see how pretty you fall apart.”

Immediately, his eyes dart open to meet yours, a mix of need and disbelief swirling within their purple depths. “You’re killing me,” he pants, voice laced with desperate longing.

“I’m not killing you. We’re just playing, baby. Finding out what makes you tick, hm?” You lean in, lips pressing a kiss to his cock as you apply a bit more pressure on the dilator.

Caleb’s body betrays him, the muscles in his thighs tightening, his cock pulsing beneath your grip. “Can’t hold it- can’tholditcan’tholditican’tican’t-”

“You’re not supposed to,” you mumble, voice muffled by the kisses you press along his length. As you drag your tongue over his entire cock, the rod shifts deep inside him simultaneously, and the combined sensations finally push him over the edge.

He comes with a keening, high-pitched sound, his torso lifting off the bed, cum spilling in thick, hot pulses around the metal, the orgasm tearing through him so deep and measured it looks like it hurts. Repeated cries of your name leave him, tremors running through his hips and legs as his cum drips down onto your fingers.

You hold him through it, feeling the heat radiating from his body and the overwhelmed shudders as he rides out the waves of pleasure. “That’s it, baby,” you murmur, caressing him gently, letting him bask in the bliss longer than he thought possible. “Just breathe.”

You slow your movements, allowing him to come down slowly, savoring the feeling of him still trembling against your touch. He collapses back onto the bed, panting hard, eyes glazed over as he tries to process what just happened.

Caleb’s chest heaves as he lies there, boneless and completely undone. His wrists strain weakly against the restraints, more out of reflex than any real attempt to move. Sweat slicks his skin, clinging to the line of his throat, and his lashes flutter with each heavy, ragged breath.

You watch him, quietly captivated. The rise and fall of his body, the dazed look in his eyes—like he just survived something holy and horrible and gorgeous all at once. You reach up and carefully undo the bindings, careful not to jostle him too much. His arms drop with a groan, and you catch one before it hits the bed too hard, guiding it to rest along his side.

He doesn’t speak. Just breathes. Stares at the ceiling like it might have answers.

The sound still rests deep inside him, barely shifting with his post-orgasm twitches. You’re patient with him, waiting until the sharpness of his gasps fades into something slower before you finally—gently—slide the rod free. Caleb hisses, the feeling more sensitivity than pain, and his whole body shudders once more as you place the tool aside and press a soft kiss to the base of his cock.

“You,” he finally rasps, his voice hoarse. “What just…”

You giggle quietly, wiping your fingers clean before shuffling up beside him, one hand sliding across his stomach. “C’mon baby,” you whisper, lips brushing his collarbone. “Didn’t I tell you you’d like it?”

He turns his head slowly to look at you, pupils still blown wide. He looks completely wrecked—and utterly in love. “You’re insane,” he whines, laughter bubbling up despite his exhaustion. “I think you just broke me.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair, heart racing at how much he’s surrendered to you. “Good. That was the idea.”

Caleb lets out a rough, shaky breath and pulls you down into him, his arms wrapping tight around your waist like you might float away if he doesn’t. “You’re evil,” he mumbles, lips brushing against your skin. “I have no idea how you roped me into that.”

You smile and nuzzle back, fingers tenderly squeezing his skin. “Because you love me. Aaaand….you didn’t safeword.”

“I was- I was this close, pipsqueak.” His protest is weak, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger apart before letting his arm flop limply over your body again. “But I couldn’t even remember it. You broke my brain. I hope you’re proud.”

Another quiet giggle escapes you and he huffs, nuzzling further into your neck like he’s trying to crawl under your skin. “I’m not moving,” he declares, the words muffled by your skin. “I deserve cuddle compensation after being pushed to my limit.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “But you’re not denying liking it.”

He exhales a breath that sounds suspiciously close to a contented sigh and mutters, “Greedy girl.”

But he doesn’t let go. Doesn’t even try. He just melts into you, warm and limp, clinging to you like a man whose entire soul has decided this—your arms, your breath, your heartbeat—is the safest place in the world.

#౨ৎ m's fics! ₊˚ෆ #caleb x reader #caleb x you #love and deepspace #lads smut #caleb lads #love and deepspace fic #lads caleb #caleb smut #sub caleb

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akoyaxs · 1 year ago

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Forget Her

✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!metkayina!reader x Neteyam?

✮ Trope: Friendsish/sistersbestfriend to voyeur lovers

✮ Tags: talk of sex, Aonung's pov (literally cooked, he's so in denial but he wants her so bad), jealously, oral (fem recieving), kissing, biting, munchiness, p in v, voyeurism (yay!)

✮ A/N: Siri, play "Forget Her" by Jeff Buckley, NSFW MDNI

Aonung wasn’t entirely sure when he first started seeing you. Sure, you were Tsireya’s little friend at some point, then you were Ronal’s little assistant at some point. And then some time after, you became his fixation.

Maybe it was that day by the fire, the one at the festival where you were dripping in pearls and the sway of your hips to the loud ceremonial music was nothing short of hypnotising. Maybe it was that day he was irritated that he hadn’t caught any fish, and you had laid a hand on his shoulder, knelt beside him and helped him repair that hole in his net he hadn’t noticed.

Or maybe it was when they arrived.

Oh, there was a reason Aonung had been so unwelcoming to the Sully’s, and it wasn’t because he wasn’t unfriendly. No, it had to do with the way that eldest Sully boy looked at you, and the way you looked back, holding his strange yellow gaze until Aonung’s eyes on your back had drawn you back to yourself.

That Neteyam was going to be big fucking trouble - Aonung just hadn’t figured out why yet.

And ever since, he felt you slipping away from him. You had never been that close, always hanging beside Tsireya and being perfectly polite to him, yet your sudden growing absense from his marui and the training grounds and even the bay was beginning to irk him.

You no longer tended the warriors in the case of an injury - instead your gaze was preoccupied with watching the darker, thinner form of Neteyam training. You no longer hung around the Metkayina on hunts - instead he found you gravitating towards Neteyam, who would smile lightly at you and ask for your assistance with navigating the reef.

It was getting seriously irritating.

You had never been anything to him, and now suddenly, Aonung felt irked every moment you weren’t in his line of sight, your dark curls bobbing beside him, the watery tinkle of your laugh trickling over his skin.

Until that day. The one by the fire - again - where he and everyone else within a 5 kilometre radius could see that something was happening. You spent all night by Neteyam’s side, barely an inch between you two.

He would whisper something in your ear and you would giggle and laugh and look away so he wouldn’t see the light flush dusting your cheeks. He would lean right in to speak, and you’d turn nervously till your faces were ghosting by each other.

And then you left, turning back to smile tentatively at Neteyam, and slipped into the tree line. Neteyam’s face split into a wide grin and he followed without a moments hesitation, taking a careless glance back at the party before ducking after you.

Well, Aonung wasn’t going to stand for it. Were you going to be alright? What were you thinking? What were you doing?

To be truthful, Aonung knew the answers to all his questions, but he tactfully decided to ignore them. Ahead, your giggles darted through the trees. His scowl deepened and his mind settled itself.

He was careful to be quiet, and the moment he saw you, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to breathe.

Neteyam had you laid out on the ground, head pillowed against leaves and body spread over the earth.

The coverings of your top were sparse to begin with, but in this position, the strings of beads were rolling over your supple skin in a way that was in no sort discreet. He could see everything, and the pretty little peaks of your nipples were something Aonung never could have pictured.

Nor could he have imagined the look on your face with Neteyam’s face kissing lower and lower down your stomach, until finally he reached your hips and grinned up at you.

Aonung can’t hear what Neteyam whispers, but you nod feverishly in response with a breathy, desperate yes.

Fuck. Your voice was doing something dangerous. It was just one word - not even spoken to him, not even aware he was watching - but the shiver that the sound of you all breathy and hoarse and wanting was unbearable.

Aonung felt both chilled and aflame, and he contented himself by melting into shadows and watching with ruthless fervour.

Neteyam’s head dipped between your thighs, and the sound that tore itself from your undeniably kissed lips was all but lecherous.

Aonung wondered faintly how much you knew about all this. The way you were gasping and rolling your hips against Neteyam’s face and grasping for his braids, his hand, his neck - anything to tether yourself to him - left little to imagination.

Oh, the things Aonung could teach you. But instead, he’d watch from the shadows as Neteyam enjoyed that paradise between your thighs.

From where Aonung’s standing, he can’t see nearly enough of what he needs. But he’s near enough to see the shine of slick against Neteyam’s face, his hand ghosting up and across your arched chest, the points of your fangs digging helplessly into the pillows of your lips.

Your breaths are growing louder, your moans hungrier, your mewls more pathetically desperate. Your grip is tighter and your thighs are closing tighter around Neteyam’s face, as though the thought of him pulling away was too much to bear.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Aonung doesn’t think he’s felt anything more erotic in his life. It’s so lewd and wrong and intimate, and that tent in his tewng is growing unbearably irritating. Still, he ignores it. He doesn’t deserve to get off from this, he’ll have to wait until he can taste you himself.

That’s fine. He’s happy to wait. Besides the fact that he is the most impatient man to ever live, and the fact that it’s taking every fibre of his being to not tear forward, discard Neteyam and take up his glorious mantle.

He’d cradle you close and whisper everything you’d want to hear. His hand would never leave your waist, your breasts, your hair. Your chest would never leave his, his lips would be resting on your skin for every moment till eternity.

Instead, he watches from the shadows as you cry out, and Neteyam grins in an infuriatingly self-satisfied way, before pushing himself up your body.

“Can I-” he’s barely asking before you’re nodding your feverish consent and reaching for his own tewng.

You look so desperate and eager and good, waiting for whatever Neteyam decides to give you.

Aonung would give you everything.

Instead, it’s Neteyam slotting himself between your thighs, dipping his head down to your chest as he pushes in, reaching up to brush his thumb over your lips as you let out a little whimper at the stretch.

Neteyam’s too fast with it. Not in any unreasonable way, just in a way that contrasts starkly with how Aonung would take you.

He wouldn’t look away from your face. He’d take his time, sinking into your velvety heat with agonizing, tortuous patience until his muscles were burning and you were mewling and whining beneath him. He’d make you feel every twitch and vein and inch of his length, and in return worship every clench and embrace you’d offer with dangerous enthusiasm.

Neteyam’s hips draw back, snap back in, and then he’s lost. Neteyam doesn’t particularly care - his groans low in your ears in a way that makes your eyes roll and hands tangle in his own. It takes everything in Aonung not to moan along with the two of you at the mere sight of your bare bodies embracing and tangling and melding into one another.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You’re moaning unintelligible words, and Neteyam groans praise back to you, of how pretty you look, how good you feel, how well you’re doing.

Aonung would take it differently. He’d tell you how the moonlight glows over your slicked skin, how he wishes he could sink into you and stay there for days, weeks, years. How he wants to kiss you raw and bare, and carve himself into you so you can’t blink your pretty lashes without remembering how well your future Olo’eyktan loved you.

But instead, it’s Neteyam who speaks to you, guides you through your growing peak, until you’re arching against the earth, fangs sinking into your lip, knuckles turning white around Neteyam’s skin.

The sound you let out is animalistic - nothing Aonung ever would have expected from Tsireya’s pretty little friend. It chills every inch of his skin, etches itself deep into him, blazes straight through his control and tears him apart.

It’s unbearable.

So Aonung retreats, stepping back quietly before tearing back through the forest. Back to the beach, back to the moonlight, away from you and Neteyam and everything he had just witnessed.

What had you done to him?

Aonung, the best warrior, the best hunter, the best lover, was utterly destroyed at your feet. And all he needed was for you to pick the pieces back up and kiss him better.

Please.

Let me forget her.

#help im literally cooked #aonung #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction #aonung fic #aonung x female reader #avatar smut #aonung x reader #aonung fanfiction #avatar fandom #avatar #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #voyerurism

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dollyswishingwell · 16 days ago

Note

Would you mind doing hcs or scenarios of the lads boys babying the reader?

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Pampered

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Fluff, lots and lots of fluff, rich men, babying, very fem reader, spoilt princessy attitude

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ A good husband always cherishes his wife

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The sea was whispering again.

Gentle waves murmured against the pale white shore, the breeze brushing against the silk curtains of the open veranda. Somewhere far in the distance, a gull cried out, but it was barely noticeable over the soft hum of a lullaby playing on the estate’s hidden speakers, something Rafayel composed himself, tuned perfectly to the frequency that made your eyelids flutter and your shoulders melt.

you lay curled in a nest of imported satin cushions, cradled in a hand-carved seashell chaise, one leg lazily thrown over the armrest as you scrolled on your crystal tablet, mostly just pretty things. Dresses, shoes, crowns you didn’t need but would own before sundown. A half-eaten slice of strawberry mille-feuille sat on the side table, and a pearl-handled fork dangled from your fingers.

Rafayel appeared without warning, the way he always did, barefoot, disheveled, smelling like seawater and sun. His shirt was half-open, sleeves damp and rolled to his elbows, revealing speckles of paint on his wrists. He dropped down beside you with a melodramatic sigh, long limbs folding with an elegance that should’ve been impossible for someone so annoyingly lazy.

“You weren’t in the studio,” you murmured, not looking up.

He rested his head in your lap with a little grin. “Nope. Skipped it. Thomas threw a fit. Something about a gallery showcase. I wasn’t listening.”

“You never are.”

“I was thinking about you instead,” he said, voice low and sweet like syrup. “My little cutie. Wondering if you drank enough water. If you remembered to use the SPF I got you. If you ate anything besides strawberries and cream.”

He tilted his head up to look at you, blue-pink eyes soft and utterly devoted. His voice dropped to a playful whisper.

“Did you?”

“…Maybe.”

With a tut, he sat up just enough to kiss your cheek, then your nose, then your collarbone. Each kiss light, lingering, and just a little possessive.

“You’re getting thinner,” he muttered, fingers ghosting down your arms. “Do I have to spoon-feed you again like last week?”

“I was just tired,” you said, already flushing.

He clicked his tongue. “No excuses, darling. Not when you’re this precious.”

Before you could protest, he was standing again, scooping you up like a bride and cradling you against his chest. You gasped, arms circling his neck as he carried you inside, through the long marbled hallway with shells pressed into the walls, past the domed skylight above the orchid pool, into the sun-drenched kitchen where he deposited you onto the barstool like she weighed nothing at all.

“Sit. Watch,” he said, tapping your nose.

He moved around the kitchen like a dancer, pirouetting with flour, sea salt, delicate herbs, and rare imported fish you’d never remember the name of. Youdidn’t need to. All you knew was that Rafayel made it taste like luxury, and he always cut it into heart shapes or something ridiculous and adorable just to make you giggle.

“Raffy,” you said, eyes glittering. “You never let me do anything anymore.”

He smirked over his shoulder, already plating your food with edible flowers. “Exactly. You’re not supposed to.”

“You trapped me here.”

“Mmhm.”

“In a seaside estate.”

“Go on.”

“And now you pamper me like I’m made of glass.”

He finally turned to you, setting the plate down and leaning over, voice dark and sweet.

“That’s because you are.”

He kissed you then, right as the ocean’s breeze came through the tall windows, lifting the hem of her gauzy robe. You tasted like sugar and strawberries. He deepened the kiss for a moment, hands cradling your jaw, before pulling back with a faint sigh.

“You were a deep space hunter once,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. “So brave. So serious. So exhausted.”

He kissed your temple.

“And now you’re mine. Soft, spoiled, babied. Loved.”

Your heart fluttered as he picked up the fork again, feeding you the first bite like you were a pampered empress, watching you chew with satisfaction.

“I even bought you that glass tiara you wanted,” he added casually. “It’ll be delivered tomorrow. You can wear it in the bath.”

You tried to scowl but failed miserably as he kissed you again, tongue brushing yours with teasing affection.

“Now be good, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your lips. “And eat everything. I need my princess fat and happy and absolutely useless, remember?”

You giggled, and Rafayel smiled like it was the only sound he ever wanted to hear.

Later That Evening…

The sea was quieter now. Dark. Still.

Inside the bedroom, the lights were low, casting soft golden patterns across the high ceiling. You were sprawled across Rafayel’s chest, tucked beneath a gauzy blanket that still smelled faintly of orchid milk and sea salt. His arms were looped lazily around your waist, fingertips drawing little circles over your spine.

“You’re heavy when you’re full of cake,” he murmured sleepily, voice low and teasing against your hair.

You huffed. “You made me eat it.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through your cheek where it rested against him. “Exactly. Can’t have my princess going to bed hungry. What kind of housewife would you be if you weren’t spoiled to the brim?”

“You baby me too much.”

He kissed the top of your head. “And you let me.”

You were quiet for a moment, listening to the waves outside the open windows, the hush of the curtains moving in the breeze. Then softly, almost inaudibly:

“…I like it.”

He smiled against your skin, arms tightening just enough to remind you he was there—warm, solid, utterly yours.

“Good,” he whispered, brushing your hair back, “because I’m never going to stop.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The kitchen was too bright for the early hour, sunlight spilling through the marble arch windows and casting pale gold over polished countertops. The scent of warm rice and grilled miso fish hung in the air, delicate, mild, designed to suit his palate, even if the aesthetic of the lunchbox was unmistakably yours.

The box itself was pastel pink and shaped like a bunny. Inside were neatly arranged rice balls with seaweed smiley faces, tamagoyaki folded into hearts, and a miniature note folded into a star that read:

“Don’t skip lunch, Dr. Grump <3”

Zayne adjusted his tie with one hand and looked down at the open box on the counter with a small, nearly imperceptible smile. The corners of his mouth tilted up just a touch. That was all.

“Adorable,” he muttered under his breath, voice thick with fondness.

Then, he heard it, your steps, light and quick, coming down the grand stairs wrapped in that little robe he bought for you. Silk, dove gray, your initials monogrammed just above the heart. Your hair was still messy from sleep, lips pouting with early-morning fatigue as you shuffled into the kitchen, bare feet soundless against the heated floors.

He turned just in time to catch you mid-yawn.

“You’re up early,” he said quietly, smoothing his coat sleeve. “You usually sleep in when I have morning rounds.”

You blinked up at him. “Wanted to see you off.”

Zayne leaned in immediately, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Each kiss was firm, grounding, practiced. He only pulled back to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You should be in bed,” he said in that soft, familiar scold he reserved only for you. “The sheets aren’t going to warm themselves.”

“But your lunch—”

He held up the bunny-shaped box with a faintly amused expression. “Already packed. With love, I assume?”

“Always,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“Then I’ll eat it in front of the nurses just to show them what a spoiled man I am.”

You flushed a little at that, but Zayne was already turning back to the counter, picking up his tablet and checking the schedule for the day with mechanical efficiency. You knew that look, the Doctor Mode™ face. Still, even with the schedule laid out and his mind already halfway into the operating room, he reached for you with his free hand, pulling you to stand between his legs as he leaned back against the counter.

“You should go back to bed,” he said again, tone softening. “Or take a bath. I already had the temperature set.”

You made a small, sleepy whimper and leaned into him, arms around his waist.

“I miss working,” you admitted, voice muffled against his vest.

Zayne’s fingers slowly combed through your hair. “You miss exhaustion. You miss forgetting to eat and falling asleep in your office chair.”

“I miss my team…”

“They email you. Weekly. And I never stopped you from reading the mission reports.”

You pouted. He kissed it off your lips.

“I didn’t make you quit,” he murmured. “I asked you to rest. To be soft. To be mine. Fully. And you said yes.”

You nodded, slowly. Zayne held your chin and looked at you seriously, hazel-green eyes sharp behind his glasses.

“You are not missing anything out there. You have everything here.”

Then he lifted you easily onto the counter, his large hands warm against your thighs. “You’re my perfect little wife. You pack my lunches with bear-shaped rice balls and handwritten notes. You bring me tea when I forget to hydrate. You nap in the sunroom. You water the hydrangeas. You pick out my pocket squares.”

He slid one into your hand now, a soft peach one to match your robe.

“I am not letting you throw yourself back into that chaos. Not when I finally have you to myself. Not when you finally smile more than you sigh.”

You swallowed, cheeks burning. “You’re so bossy in the mornings.”

“I’m bossy because I care.”

He pulled you off the counter, set you gently on your feet, and buttoned up your robe with care, like you were porcelain. Then, from his coat pocket, he produced a sleek little pillbox.

“You forgot your supplements yesterday. Take them now.”

“Zaaaynieeee…”

“No. Open.”

You did, and he popped one onto your tongue, following it with a kiss so soft you forgot what you were arguing about.

Later that day…

He would sit in the break room, quietly ignoring grayson’s complaints while pulling the pink bunny bento out of his briefcase. When he read the little note, he’d smile to himself, just a bit.

Then, when one of the interns commented on how “cute” it was, he would deadpan:

“She makes them for me every morning. I consider myself extremely fortunate.”

And when he got home—exhausted and loosened from his suit, he’d find you in his oversized shirt, already asleep in his study, curled up in his reading chair. He’d pick you up, kiss your forehead, and carry you to bed without a word. Tucking you in like the most precious thing in his life.

Because you were.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

It was always quiet in the upper floors of the penthouse.

Soft, surreal quiet, the kind that only existed in homes built high above the clouds. The kind of quiet where time slowed down, and everything felt like a dream stitched together with silk and moonlight.

You were draped in one of Xavier’s oversized white sweaters, sleeves swallowing your hands as you curled up on the crescent-shaped couch in the sunroom. The sweater smelled faintly of his cologne, clean, cool, and something like starlight, and you’d started to associate that scent with safety.

With home.

The low hum of the smart kettle simmered in the background. A jar of golden marmalade sat open beside a tiny teacup, half-filled with his special blend of herbal tea. A handmade plate of shortbread cookies (triangle-shaped, because Xavier didn’t understand why cookies had to be round) waited quietly beside it.

And of course, he was fast asleep. Again.

Curled on the floor beside your legs, one hand resting gently on your ankle like a makeshift leash. His silver hair spilled over your lap, impossibly soft. His breathing was slow, rhythmic, peaceful. Even when unconscious, Xavier looked like something from another world, beautiful, strange, quietly devoted.

You giggled softly and brushed his bangs back, watching the way his lips parted slightly. He made a sleepy hum, then shifted closer, nuzzling into your thigh with all the gentleness of a pampered cat.

“You really fell asleep again?” you whispered, amused.

“Mhm,” he mumbled without opening his eyes. “Recharging.”

“You came in to bring me tea, not nap.”

“I did bring the tea.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers along the shell of his ear. “You’re lucky I don’t mind.”

He finally opened one eye, a soft, glassy blue, and tilted his face toward you, still resting against your lap. “You left the bath too early.”

“You were asleep in the bath.”

“I was making sure the temperature was consistent.”

You snorted. “By napping in it?”

He blinked slowly. “Yes.”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Which is the same thing.”

Xavier exhaled slowly, then rose to sit beside you. He reached over, wordlessly tugging you into his arms and onto his lap, adjusting your position with graceful efficiency. Your legs ended up draped over his, arms looped around his neck as he cradled you like something precious. Which, to him, you were.

“You’re not allowed to go back to the association.” he murmured, voice low. “I locked your gear away.”

“You hid my gun too.”

“You’re not a hunter anymore,” he whispered, resting his cheek against yours. “You’re… you’re mine.”

You shivered a little, not because it was cold, but because there was such finality in the way he said it. Not possessive. Not controlling. Just… pure. Like a simple fact of the universe.

“You say that like I’m your treasure.”

“You are,” he said. “And treasures stay indoors. Where they’re warm. And happy. And dressed in very soft sweaters.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. “You made me quit.”

“You were tired,” he said simply. “You were hurt. You didn’t say it. But I saw.”

You looked away, but his fingers gently turned your chin back toward him.

“I’ll never let you get hurt again,” he promised. “Not while I’m here.”

“…You’re always here.”

“Exactly.”

He kissed you, soft, dreamy, slow. The kind of kiss that erased the years of chasing stars and burying your exhaustion in duty. The kind of kiss that said: Stay. Let me love you like this forever.

You melted into him, into his arms, into this beautiful moonlit home he’d made for you both.

Later that night…

You found a small wrapped package on your vanity: a new pastel dress, chosen by Xavier himself. Along with it, a simple sticky note in his oddly neat handwriting:

“For tomorrow’s sunroom breakfast.

I promise to make round scones this time. I love you. – X”

You giggled, holding the dress to your chest. Then, from somewhere in the hallway, came the sound of a light thud, Xavier had fallen asleep halfway to the bed again.

Of course.

Your sleepy, sweet, doting husband.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

The mansion wasn’t built for subtlety.

It spanned over three sprawling hills of private land in a region Sylus referred to only as “safehouse no. 7.” You once joked that any place with diamond chandeliers and six koi ponds didn’t qualify as a safehouse, but Sylus had just smirked, kissed your forehead, and said, “Kitten, I don’t half-ass security. Or aesthetics.”

Everything inside shimmered like it had been plucked from a fairy tale and reimagined through luxury catalogues. Velvet chaise lounges in your favorite colors. Rococo mirrors imported from galaxies you couldn’t pronounce. Every door had a gilded, custom-made floral etching, and every single room smelled faintly like roses and the perfume Sylus claimed “only suits his princess.”

And in the center of it all, you.

Wrapped in lace and tulle and sitting on the marble vanity as your husband fastened a delicate anklet around your leg. A charm dangled from it: a tiny red crow with a ruby eye. Matching the brooch nestled on your collarbone. Matching the smug glint in his red eyes as he leaned forward to press a kiss just above your ankle.

“There,” he murmured. “Now the whole estate knows who you belong to.”

You giggled, lips parted in a dazed smile. “You already made them print my initials on all the guest towels.”

“And?”

“And you renamed the island after me.”

His smile grew wider, arrogant. “A island is still too small for you.”

You laughed harder, curling your fingers in his silvery hair as he stood to full height, crowding you gently against the mirror. His hand slipped around your waist, firm and possessive.

“You’re insufferable,” you teased.

“I’m perfect,” he corrected, voice low, smug. “And so are you. That’s why I dragged you out of that pathetic job. Look at you. You were never meant to be anything less than worshipped.”

His voice dropped lower, brushing heat against your neck.

“I built this place for you. Every velvet curtain. Every silk sheet. Every gold-dusted bath bomb. All so my princess could finally live like the doll she was meant to be.”

“I do like the bath bombs…”

He chuckled. “You like the fact that I warm the tub for you and brush your hair while you soak in them.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“And today,” he said, brushing his thumb over your lip, “you’re not lifting a single finger. I had a schedule drafted.”

You blinked. “…A schedule?”

“Of pampering,” he said, guiding you off the vanity and onto his arm. “First: brunch. The chef has recreated those heart-shaped waffles you liked. Then: wardrobe preview. Every dress in your new closet is custom—frills, bows, ridiculous sparkle. You’re picking your favorites and we’re hosting a private photoshoot. I’ve cleared the whole wing.”

You flushed. “Sylus, I don’t need—”

“You need to be spoiled,” he said simply. “That’s my job. To make you giggle. To hear that sweet voice saying you missed me while I was out threatening arms dealers. I want to come back to my princess twirling in something pretty and demanding I carry her down the stairs.”

“…So if I did that right now—?”

He bent low and swept you off your feet before you could finish. Bridal-style. Effortless.

You squealed and held on as he carried you, smirking all the way down the marble steps like he was showing off a rare jewel.

“See?” he said. “Perfect.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m your ridiculous.”

Later that evening…

He returned from one of his armory audits, only to find you curled on the sofa in one of your new frilly nightgowns, cuddling a plush red crow he’d sneakily commissioned to resemble him.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, leaning against the doorway, watching his wife hold a doll version of him like it was her most treasured thing in the world.

“…I take it you like the surprise?” he said smoothly.

You looked up, eyes wide and glowing. “He sings when you squeeze his tummy!”

You demonstrated, and yes, it was his voice. Singing one of the lullabies he only ever hummed when he thought you were asleep.

“God your singing is horrible as always” You laugh lovingly.

Sylus stared for a moment. Then gave a rare, genuine smile.

“does that mean i can take it back?.”

You pout. “No.”

“Okay okay kitty put those claws away,” he said, eyes glowing faintly red, teasing.

And he crossed the room, scooping you, and the plush crow, into his arms.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The Skyhaven penthouse was silent, save for the hum of the wind outside and the soft mechanical shhhh of the air purification system. So high up the clouds drifted right past the windows, and the golden skyline of Linkon City blinked faintly beneath your feet.

Inside, it was all warmth.

Plush carpets. Heated tiles. The faint scent of Caleb’s cologne, cedar, fuel, something electric, lingering on every blanket and every t-shirt of his you stole.

And on the cream-colored velvet couch, you lay sprawled like a doll, clutching a purple dinosaur plush he’d won you from a claw machine, one of seven from that day, actually. Your legs were propped over a pile of throw pillows, your pink robe slipping just enough to reveal the soft lace camisole Caleb had picked out for you that morning.

That was when the front door opened.

Heavy boots. Click of metal. The deep voice, smooth like gravity itself.

“I know you’re not wearing socks again.”

You pouted immediately, pulling your blanket over your toes. “They made my feet hot.”

Caleb’s voice warmed. “Did my little pipsqueak overheat again? Poor thing. C’mere.”

He was out of uniform, just in a dark grey tee and his flight pants, gloves tucked in his back pocket. His hair was still slightly windblown from the helipad. And yet, like always, he looked straight at you first.

Not the mail on the table. Not the reports from the Farspace Fleet.

Just you.

You squealed as he crossed the room in three long strides and scooped you up off the couch like you weighed nothing.

“Caleb!”

“What?” he grinned, settling you on his lap like you belonged there. (You did.) “I didn’t get my hello kiss.”

“You could’ve just sat down next to me!”

He blinked. “…But then I couldn’t baby you properly.”

You sighed dramatically but curled into him like second nature, cheek pressed to his chest.

“Gege…” You mutter out of habit.

“Mhm?”

“I didn’t clean today.”

“Good,” he said without hesitation. “What did I say about that?”

You mumbled into his shirt. “That cleaning is not your job anymore.”

“Exactly.” He ran his gloved fingers gently along your spine, slow and indulgent. “You’re cute to be mopping floors. What if you slipped?”

“You’ve got drones for that…”

“And they’re happy to do it. So why’s my pipsqueak crawling around on the floor like a maid, huh?” He kissed your temple. “You’re supposed to be pampered.”

You sighed again, the kind of sigh that only ever came when you were completely, utterly spoiled.

“…I was gonna cook for you.”

He paused. “Did you touch the stove?”

“…No?”

“Good. You’d probably burn your pretty fingers.”

You gasped, swatting at him. “I made you lunch last week!”

He caught your wrist easily and kissed the back of your hand. “And it was adorable. Still had rice stuck to your cheek after.”

You groaned and buried your face in his neck, already melting as he chuckled.

Then—he shifted, standing with you still in his arms.

“Caleb—!”

“Dinner’s being delivered. I already ordered. You’re having the little custard thing you like for dessert.”

You blinked. “…The peach blossom tart?”

He kissed your cheek. “Mhm.”

“You do love me.”

He smirked. “I married you, didn’t I?”

Later that evening…

You were laying across his lap in the penthouse lounge, nibbling on a fruit skewer while Caleb scrolled through your shared calendar on his tablet.

“…Did you really block off next week as ‘Princess Downtime’?” you asked between bites.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even write what it was.”

He looked at you, deadpan. “You don’t need a reason. You’re my pipsqueak. If I want to spend three days dressing you up in new outfits and feeding you strawberries while you lounge in my arms, I will.”

You flushed.

“…You’re over the top.”

“You married me anyway.”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek, then whispered: “Only ‘cause I wanted your last name.”

He laughed. Then—casually—

“…Want me to change the law so I’m the only one who can have it?”

“CALEB—!”

373 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 3 months ago

Text

mile high club [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: When you and the Congressman cross professional boundaries, Bucky finds it hard to keep his hands off you, but you still worry that he sees you as a distraction to his upcoming campaign.

Word Count: 1700

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, p in v, fingering, just general filth, smidge of plot.

Author's note: this was written because it was highly requested. if people enjoy the way i write for congressman!bucky, i am happy to turn this into a series of smutty one shots. but please let me know! if i don't know i can't do it. thanks! <3

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The hum of the jet engine filled the private cabin, a low, steady sound that did nothing to settle the tension crackling between you and Bucky. The air up here felt thinner, charged with something you couldn’t name—something you hadn’t been able to shake since earlier that evening, when he had kissed you breathless in his office, his hands tangled in your hair, his body pressed flush against yours.

For years, it had been strictly professional. You prided yourself on that. You were Bucky Barnes’ personal assistant, the woman who kept his schedule tight, his image pristine, his affairs in order. He was a congressman, after all—one of the most powerful men in Washington, and you had always been painfully aware of the stakes. Of what would happen if you blurred the lines.

But you had always noticed him, too. The way his sleeves strained against his forearms, the rasp in his voice when he was exhausted, the rare smirk that made your stomach tighten. You had harboured your crush in silence, burying it under professionalism, refusing to acknowledge it. Until tonight.

That had been only hours ago. Since then, you had barely spoken, but the weight of what had happened lingered between you. Now, on this flight to Tokyo, where the air was warm, the whiskey in your glass burned sweet, and Bucky Barnes looked at you like he was ready to devour you whole, the tension was unbearable. You, on the other hand, were looking everywhere but him, afraid to catch your boss’ line of sight. You weren’t scared of him — no. As a matter of fact, you were probably one of the only people in the world who was not scared of the ex-Winter Soldier because you saw Bucky for who he really was: a man who wanted to implement change and focus on the greater good.

He sat across from you, his tie loosened, his blue eyes dark as he watched you sip your drink. He looked at ease—relaxed, even. But you knew him better than that. There was a tension in his jaw, a hunger in the way his fingers tapped idly against the armrest.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, his voice smooth, controlled.

You smirked, setting your glass down on the polished table between you. “You’ve been busy, Congressman.”

His lips twitched, amusement flickering across his face before he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “That’s not what I meant.” Bucky murmured, reaching out to trail a single finger along the exposed skin of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in its wake.

Your breath hitched. The warmth of his touch sent a slow, deliberate ache between your legs, and God, you wanted to fight it. You wanted to be strong, to resist. But it was impossible when he looked at you like that—like he knew exactly what he was doing to you, exactly how you would come undone for him.

“Bucky— you should really rehearse your speech for the Tokyo conference…” your words trailed off, not a single part of you meaning them, displaying every effort to keep your boss hard at work and not helplessly distracted by you. You felt a familiar heat between your legs as his pupils blew black and he looked up at you with lust.

Wearily, you called his name again and it was barely a whisper before he was in front of you, his large hands gripping the arms of your chair, caging you in. His cologne wrapped around you—clean, woodsy, intoxicating. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, lips inches from yours. “Tell me, and I will.”

You should have. You knew you should have.

Instead, you lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with a challenge. “You’re not very good at following orders, Congressman.”

His lips parted, a low groan slipping from them before his mouth crashed into yours. He loved when you called him that, and you knew it. The kiss was slow at first—hot, teasing, meant to drive you insane. But when you sighed into him, his patience snapped. His hands were on you, dragging you up, pressing you against the cool leather wall of the cabin, his hips flush against yours.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled, kissing a hot trail down your neck, his fingers working the buttons of your blouse.

You arched into him, your hands raking through his hair, tugging at his tie. “Then it’s mutual.”

Bucky chuckled darkly, nipping at your pulse point before spinning you around, pressing your front against the wall. His hands roamed lower, lower, hiking your skirt up.

“You ever done this before?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Thirty-five thousand feet in the air?”

You gasped as his fingers slid beneath your panties, tracing the slick heat waiting for him. “No.”

His smirk was wicked against your skin. “Guess I get to ruin you all over again.”

Bucky didn’t waste time. His fingers teased, tracing lazy circles over your sensitive skin before pressing into you, stretching you, filling you so deliciously slow you nearly whimpered. His other, Vibranium hand, came up to cover your mouth, muffling the sound as his lips brushed over your ear.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice thick with control he was barely holding onto. “Wouldn’t want the pilot to hear, would we?”

You remembered how just hours earlier, you were nearly walked in on, and heat coiled deep in your stomach, your nails digging into the leather wall as Bucky worked you open, curling his fingers just right, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth moved along your shoulder, kissing, nipping, soothing, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he murmured, his fingers plunging deeper, his thumb circling in just the right way. “Falling apart for me. Only for me.”

You bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet as the pleasure built, hot and overwhelming. Your knees threatened to buckle, but Bucky held you firm, his body a solid, unyielding force against you.

“Bucky—” your voice was barely a breath, a plea, and he groaned, twisting his fingers just so, sending you tumbling over the edge.

The world blurred, heat surging through you, white-hot pleasure crashing down in waves as Bucky swallowed every sound, pressing kisses to the back of your neck as you trembled in his arms.

As the aftershocks faded, he slowly withdrew, his hands smoothing over your hips, grounding you. But he wasn’t done.

A rough hand tilted your chin, his lips claiming yours in a slow, heated kiss before he hoisted you onto the polished table, nudging your legs apart with his knee. His breath was warm against your lips as he smirked. “What do you want, doll? Come on, use your words for me.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer. “I want you to fuck me, Congressman.” You said it without shame and just sheer desperation.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he grabbed your hips, dragging you to the edge of the table. The sound of fabric rustling filled the cabin, the cool air brushing against your fevered skin as he freed himself.

His thick length pressed against your entrance, teasing, stretching you just enough to make you squirm. His thumb found your clit, circling lazily, coaxing another desperate whimper from your lips.

“Patience,” he murmured, watching you with dark, hungry eyes as he inched inside, sinking into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

The stretch was exquisite, overwhelming, stealing the breath from your lungs. You clung to him, nails raking down his back as he filled you completely, groaning at the way your body clenched around him.

“Fuck,” he ground out, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel—Jesus, you feel perfect.”

He pulled back only to snap his hips forward again, the force making the table creak beneath you. You gasped, your back arching, pleasure sparking along every nerve ending as he set a slow, punishing rhythm, dragging out every ounce of pleasure until you were a trembling, desperate mess beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching the way your lips parted, your breath coming in ragged pants. “Taking me so well. So fucking sweet for me.”

You whimpered as he angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you, sending stars exploding behind your eyes. Your fingers dug into his biceps, nails biting into the firm muscle.

“Bucky—please—”

He grinned, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Please what?”

Your head fell back as he rolled his hips again, slow and deep, leaving you gasping. “Please—I need—”

His smirk darkened as he drove into you harder, faster, the intensity building, the pleasure unbearable. “Say it,” he growled against your throat. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you choked out, hands fisting in his shirt. “Need you. Need to come.”

He groaned, his movements turning rougher, desperate, his fingers slipping between you to work your clit, pushing you closer, higher—

Until you shattered, pleasure ripping through you in waves, leaving you breathless, boneless, clinging to him as he followed with a low, guttural moan, spilling inside you, his body shuddering against yours.

As you both caught your breath, Bucky let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Hope you’re not too tired, sweetheart,” he murmured, running a hand up your thigh. “We’ve still got a long flight ahead of us.”

---------------------- <3

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @mybuckynotyours @sunday-bug @bunnyfella

#bucky barnes #congressman bucky #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #smut #marvel #mcu #thunderbolts

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suguae · 1 year ago

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Haunted

જsynopsis. If it was a dream, then he would never want to wake up.

જpairings. Z. Toji x F. Reader

જcontents. Mention of self harm, weight loss, mild smut.

Final part.

“Y/n…” He whispered.

Megumi, with his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement and his bright eyes sparkling with joy, ran towards you with arms outstretched. His tiny feet pattered quickly across the wooden floor, and his soft, tousled hair bounced with each enthusiastic step. When he reached you, he wrapped his small arms around your legs, squeezing you tightly in a deep warm embrace.

"You come back!" he exclaimed with a mix of relief and happiness in his voice. His words tugged at your heartstrings, and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. The pure, unfiltered love and innocence in his voice overwhelmed you.

"Y/n," Toji repeated, his voice more certain this time, though it still carried the weight of his remorse. "I... I didn't think I'd ever get to see you again." His eyes softened as they met yours, searching for any sign of the forgiveness he was too afraid to ask for.

You took a step closer, the child clinging to you with an unspoken trust that seemed to break down the barriers Toji had built around his heart. "It's been a long time, Toji," you said gently, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. "A lot has changed."

Toji was content, but his heart still swelled with emotion. One thing he couldn't ignore was the drastic change in your appearance: your body was thinner than before you left, and the bags under your eyes were impossible to miss. He sighed quietly as you spoke to Megumi, who nestled comfortably in your arms.

"Daddy missed you a lot, he was crying sometimes," Megumi said, his small voice full of sincerity as he nuzzled closer to you. You smiled gently at his words before looking up at Toji, your eyes meeting his with a mix of affection and concern.

You both knew that you needed to clear things up, but with Megumi excitedly being all over you, it was impossible. “Will you come home with us?” Megumi asked, causing you to look back down at him.

“Yeah…” you whispered, your voice soft and tinged with emotion. Megumi's eyes lit up with joy, and he hugged you tightly. You glanced back at Toji, who gave you a small, hopeful smile. Despite the changes and the unspoken words between you, there was a sense of relief in the air. For now, being together was enough.

With Megumi pulling you around the house to show you his new toys, you noticed Toji hovering nearby with a soft smile glued on his face. Seeing the effect you had on Megumi made his heart swell with pride and affection.

“Now we can watch a movie?” Megumi asked, throwing his body onto the couch with a cheeky smile plastered on his face. You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “Sure, we can watch a movie,” you replied, your smile mirroring his.

As Megumi nestled closer, resting his head on your lap, he whispered, “You stay here forever with me and papa…” His words were filled with innocence and a longing for permanence. You smiled tenderly, brushing his hair soothingly as his eyes drifted closed, succumbing to sleep.

Toji's gaze lingered on you, his eyes burning with emotion as he watched the interaction between you and Megumi. The warmth of your presence, the familiarity of your bond with their son, it all served as a healing balm to him. The sight of you back here with him, it felt like a salve on old wounds, like a promise of better days ahead.

But beneath the surface, there lingered a question, unspoken yet palpable: Were you going to stay forever? It was a question that hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty and hope, waiting for an answer that only time would reveal.

"Toji, I wanna give it another chance…” you sigh, feeling the weight of your words as they hung in the air. You threw your head back, a mix of uncertainty and hope swirling within you. “But I don’t wanna mess it up.”

Turning to look at him, you found Toji already staring back, his expression a mix of understanding and anticipation. “I’ve been through a lot of stuff that changed me mentally," you continued, your voice soft with vulnerability. "I mean, what if I’m not enough for you?”

Toji reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You are more than enough,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “We've both been through our share of ups and downs, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. We can work through whatever comes our way, together.”

"And how are you so sure?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as tears welled up in your eyes.

"Because," Toji replied, his hands reaching up to gently cup your cheeks, his touch warm and reassuring, "I love you, and I don't want to let you slip away so easily, again."

After so long, he had finally said it. "I love you." Those words, so simple yet so meaningful, meant everything to you. Coming from Toji, they carried even more weight, knowing how it was never easy for him to express his feelings so openly.

His words washed over you, carrying with them a sense of sincerity and devotion that you couldn't ignore. As he wiped away the small tear that slipped down your cheek, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his love, you knew that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

You couldn't help but notice the small promise ring wrapped around his finger—the one you gave him, the one he never wore because he was too busy wearing his old wedding band. But here he was, wearing the promise ring now.

The sight filled you with a mixture of surprise and warmth. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about his commitment to you, about his willingness to let go of the past and embrace the present with you.

As you looked at the ring, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you reached out to take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. "You still have it..." you murmured, your fingers gently tracing the ring on his finger. “Why would I not?” Toji replied, his eyes filled with sincerity and love.

"We can't change the past," you said softly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of sadness and determination. "But we can choose how to move forward from here."

Toji couldn't believe his luck. Here you were, back in his bedroom, with his clothes on, fresh from the shower. It felt surreal, like a dream he never thought would come true.

As he watched you, a sense of gratitude washed over him, mingled with a hint of disbelief. The past had been filled with so much pain and uncertainty, but now, in this moment, there was only the soft glow of the lamplight and the comforting presence of you beside him.

With Megumi peacefully sleeping in his own room, the house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the night outside. It was a moment of stillness, of peace, that Toji knew he would cherish forever.

As he moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace, he whispered "I love you, and I was a fool for letting you go," Your heart swelled at his words, hearing the vulnerability and honesty in his voice. It was a confession you had longed to hear, a validation of the love that had never truly faded, despite the distance and the pain.

"I love you too, but it was best for me to leave. You needed to heal," you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and sadness.

Toji's expression softened as he listened to your words, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I know," he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently brush away the tears that fell down your cheeks. "And I'm sorry for everything you had to go through because of me."

You shook your head, leaning into his touch. "It wasn't your fault," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "We both needed time apart to find ourselves again. And now, here we are, together."

Toji's eyes traced every feature on your face, filled with admiration and longing. Leaning in, he pressed a small, tender kiss on your pink, plump lips. The kiss was filled with longing and desire, a silent expression of the love that had never truly faded.

Pulling away, he looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with affection and a hint of uncertainty. But before he could say anything, you leaned in again, your lips meeting his in a passionate embrace. The world around you faded away as your bodies pressed against each other, the sensation of his lips moving against yours sending shivers down your spine.

His body hovered over yours, the cushion beneath you sinking as you melted into each other's embrace. In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment and the intensity of your love.

Toji's hands made their way under the shirt you wore, gently sliding it off you, revealing your bare breasts. His eyes wandered over your exposed skin, filled with desire and longing. But then his gaze landed on your wrist, something he hadn't noticed before due to the coverage of your shirt.

"Toji..." you whispered, your voice filled with apprehension.

His heart felt heavy as he saw the burn marks on your wrist, a painful reminder of the struggles you had faced in his absence. Guilt gnawed at him as he realized the depth of your pain, the scars left behind by wounds he couldn't even begin to imagine.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion as he reached out to gently trace the marks with his fingertips. "I never knew..."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him, seeing the regret and sorrow reflected in his gaze. You caressed his cheeks, your touch gentle and reassuring. "I'm better," you reminded him softly, wanting to ease the weight of his guilt.

You leaned in to kiss him, the urgency and intensity of your desire evident in the messy, passionate embrace. Your tongues danced together, a symphony of longing and love as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace.

You tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, a silent invitation for him to slide them off. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. You eagerly nodded, your desire evident in the way your eyes met his with unwavering determination. There was no doubt in your mind—you wanted this, needed this, more than anything.

With a small smile, Toji reached down, slowly sliding off his sweatpants, revealing his cock. The air between you crackled with anticipation as he moved closer, his body now fully exposed to your hungry gaze.

As he hovered over you, his eyes filled with love and desire, you felt a rush of excitement course through you. In this moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the raw, unbridled passion that consumed you both.

With a passionate intensity, Toji thrust into you, his movements filled with love and urgency. As he kissed your scars tenderly, each touch was a silent declaration of his love and devotion.

With each thrust, you felt the weight of his love pressing into you, a reminder that you were not alone, that he was here with you, sharing in every moment of pleasure and intimacy.

Your soft moans filled his ears, your voice whispering his name like a prayer. "Ah, Toji..." The sound of your pleasure sent a shiver down his spine, his heart fluttering with a mixture of desire and disbelief.

He had dreamed of this moment, of having you here in his arms, but now that it was real, it was more than he could have ever imagined. The intimacy between you was a testament to the depth of your connection, a bond that had endured despite the trials and tribulations you had faced.

As his lips moved over your skin, tracing the marks left behind by your past pain, you felt a sense of healing wash over you. In his embrace, you found solace and reassurance, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, stronger than ever before.

That night, after the heat of passion had cooled and the world outside faded into darkness, Toji held you tightly in his arms as you both drifted off to sleep. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you again, the fear of being apart from you once more haunting his thoughts.

With you nestled against his chest, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, a reassurance that as long as you were here, everything would be alright. He held you close, wanting to savor every moment, every breath, knowing that tomorrow wasn't promised.

As he listened to the steady rhythm of your breathing, he whispered “I love you”. In this moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace and comfort in the warmth of your love.

Toji's heart sank as he woke up to find no sight of you beside him. For a moment, panic gripped him as he feared that you might have left. But then, to his relief, he heard laughter echoing from the kitchen, the sound of your voice mingling with Megumi's.

As Toji stood from a distance, watching you and Megumi messily making pancakes together, a warm feeling spread through his chest. Megumi sat on the counter, attempting to mix the batter while you smiled, taking pictures, your laughter filling the room.

Toji couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched you, wearing his shirt that barely reached your mid-thigh, with flour messily in your hair, likely due to Megumi's enthusiastic mixing. The sight of you, so carefree and nurturing with his own child, stirred something deep within Toji.

It was a moment of realization for him, a moment when he knew with certainty that he wanted to have his own children with you. Seeing you act so motherly towards Megumi filled him with a sense of longing and anticipation for the future. He imagined how wonderful it would be to have a family of his own, to see you as the mother of his children, to share in the joys and challenges of parenthood together.

"Daddy!" Megumi's excited voice rang out, and Toji couldn't help but smile as he watched his son.

You turned to Toji, your face lighting up with a radiant smile that seemed to glow like an angel to him. "Good morning, sleepyhead," you greeted him affectionately as he approached, your warmth wrapping around him like a comforting embrace.

Toji's arm instinctively wrapped around your waist as he leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your shoulder. In that moment, surrounded by the love of his family, he felt a sense of contentment and gratitude wash over him.

As he looked at you and Megumi, he knew that this was where he belonged, with the two of you by his side. And as he savored the warmth of your embrace and the love that filled the room, he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Epilogue

"DAD! SHE'S WALKING!" Megumi exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement. Your eyes glistened with tears of joy as your beautiful daughter took her first steps towards you.

Toji felt his heart warm at the sight, a sense of pride and love swelling within him. He quickly took out his phone to record the moment, just as he had done when Megumi had started walking.

As he watched his daughter take those tentative steps, her tiny hands reaching out for support, Toji felt a sense of wonder and awe. In that moment, he realized how much his life had changed, how much richer and fuller it had become with you and his children in it.

As his daughter finally reached you, her face lighting up with a smile that mirrored your own, Toji knew that this was a moment he would cherish forever. And as he wrapped his arms around you and his children, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the family he had been blessed with.

taglist. @maliakealoha @dreamlessnight @mikyapixie @slowlyswimmingmoon @needsleep3000 @blueberryblood11 @ryumurin @adreamingpendulum @aechmea01 @r0ckst4rjk @wr4inn @khaleesihavilliard @sidelnes @nxxun-blog @imnotabot28 @my1guilty1pleasures @ssc7514 @mob1lecatcher @little-duck @i2innie @that-goth-bisexual @kt-willson @swanyie @painted-hills @lunamoons-posts @thekidscallmebosss @furrynightthing @zoemaelol @mochii-13 @mellowarcadefun @kitkatmochi @pega7sus @mitsuki123sstuff @4-gojo @milkm4nz @meandmyhomieshateshibuya @kidd3ath @chadychadyy2k @iamtheunkown @0range-juiceee @kxllanxtdoor @moonchildlv @mimisxs @venus1224idkpleaze @batw1ngz @gothifiedrei @asceluffy @rhialazyreader @burningwiitches

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #toji fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro x reader #suguae

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xaer1s · 4 months ago

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ㅤㅤ ❛ ㅤ✿ ────── cuteness clad in silk ⸝⸝ REUPLOAD

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ 최산 ] ─── CHOI SAN ⨾ ATEEZ

ㅤㅤ synopsis:ㅤsan was always a calm and collected guy, not riling himself up easily but this simple change you made tonight, unexpectedly -especially for him- had him feeling a bit too excited.ㅤ⨾ㅤwarnings:ㅤnsfw!!, spooning sex, unprotected sex (guys don't do it), needy-dom!san, fem!reader, sub!reader, clit play, p in v, cream pie, lil begging?, pwp??, pet names, slight overstim, lil swearing, praisingㅤ⨾ㅤword count:ㅤ1,8kㅤ⨾ㅤa/n.: after my other account with the name of xa3r1s got shadow-banned and i didn't really get help from the staff, i decided to make another blog and post this again. i probably won't reupload all of my works. happy reading! <3

ㅤㅤNAViGATiON ・・・・・; ✉︎ message me on: @smnxi ; please reblog and follow if you like my posts! do not spam likes, or you'll be blocked, sorry! ♡

ㅤㅤif you'd like to be a part of my taglist, fill out this form, dm me or comment on ONLY the rules post!/ requests open!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ• . ˚ ⋆ . ｡.

. . . having to lay your head on the pillow at the most boiling hot night in mid august was just straight up torture, so you decided to change sleepwear. placing the soft cotton shorts and thin, plain tops aside, for an even thinner, pure white nightgown. it actually looked very cute if we’re gonna be honest and very practical too. you never once thought about wearing one but when you finally gave it a try and it wasn’t that bad at all.

the silky fabric clung to your skin because of the after shower steam in all the right places, pronouncing your hips as the material stretched deliciously. showing the faint outline of your nipples and the straps occasionally slipping down on your bare shoulders, made your boyfriend attention perk up. it had san already in a frenzy.

experiencing you like this first in his whole lifetime was a game changer for him, he just got so used to seeing you in your usual night wear that he didn’t really pay attention to it anymore. not to misunderstand, you were absolutely cute like that too.

now turning off the lights, making your way from the bathroom to sit on the edge of the bed, your bare feet quietly thumping on the cold wooden floor, the harsh feeling sent goosebumps over your skin. the bedroom was quiet and dark aside from the lamp’s small, orange tinted light providing the only source of light, placed on the bedside table. still, you felt his sharp eyes tracking over you. the window wide open, the gentle summer breeze tickling your skin and the sky foggy.

he was already under the warm, fluffy duvet, his dark eyes drinking in the sight in front of him just within his reach, and at this point he was just struggling to keep himself composed and his actions in check. he itched to reach out to tug the inviting material off of you, he had so easy access it made him go nuts.

of course you noticed, his gaze quite literally burning holes into your back as you made yourself comfortable under the blankets, pulling it over you as you curled against his side, as he continued to stare shamelessly. a content sigh escaping you and a gentle smile made itself clear on your lips.

“hug me..” just like you asked, one of his arm draped over your shoulder to pull you flush against him, his palm splayed out flat on your waist as his fingertips caressed you gently over the shiny fabric.

he already saw you in every way he possibly could by now after spending years with you and knew every inch and crevice of your soft body like the back of his hand. still, the innocence you carried in wearing a simple white nightgown with nothing but panties underneath just send tingles of excitement through his body, straight to his cock and made his heart thump faster. you seemed so pure and adorable in his embrace, soft locks falling forward and framing your cheeks, eyes ready to flutter close to drift off to sleep, knowing nothing about his inner turmoil.

the cute little flares adorning the hem where it rode up your thighs, made his tummy hot. after some time, now deep in slumber, you turned to your other side, presenting your back to him. he managed to force himself to sleep too but as soon as you moved, it shook him awake. his tired gaze traveling to your frame and gulping down a big lump in his throat.

adjusting himself after you, missing the feeling of your body against his, san wrapped his arms around your mid section, his front pushing against your back. he was already struggling real bad at this point, but the quiet whine you let slip out in your sleep and the way you wriggled your butt against his crotch in the search of his warmth just did the work.

his hold now tighter as each second passed, hips bucking into you, just slowly and lazily grinding himself through his sleeping shorts. making sure you were still asleep and snoring softly, his face found its home in the back of your neck, your hair brushing against his face as he made incredible effort to muffle his whiny moans while rutting himself against you.

in a futile attempt to keep quiet, his teeth sank into his plump lower lip almost drawing out blood and god he was ashamed of himself for being so fucking horny just from lying next to you. his embarrassment from the absurdity of the situation slowly seeped into pleasure as a small wet patch made itself visible in his already tight underwear.

you stirring awake, a quiet whine escaped from deep within your throat, blinking your weary eyes open to meet with darkness. it took a few seconds to realize what’s going on behind you, your lips parted with an exhausted sigh.

“san..” but he continued, you didn’t protest, not when he was so adorably needy, you knew he simply just wouldn’t let you until he’s satisfied.

“darling.. i’m sorry- you’re just-..” he tries to explain, his voice coming in quick and unsteady pants, his palm flat on your hips now and fingertips flicking over the hem of your clothing. “can I, please?.. the tip.. only the tip, i swear, baby..” even while asking for permission, he didn’t seem to stop grinding so instead you just appreciated the effort of him pleading so desperate for you. reluctantly, you mumbled a small and very exhausted ‘yeah’ and gave the green light.

you were tired but you still weren’t so cruel to leave your handsome boyfriend wanting so of course you gave in even if it meant sacrificing a little sleep. feeling his hands inch higher on your sides, pushing the material with them, giving himself more place to reach. one of his hand rested on your ass and the other moved to pull the waistband of his shorts just under his member, letting it lewdly slap against his firm abdomen, eliciting a quiet hiss from san.

taking himself into his grip, his fingers tightened around the flushed red tip and his thumb smeared the sticky pre-cum across his already pulsing erection with a low groan before giving it a few squelching pumps quickly for an easier slide. his breathing heavy and actions unsteady, he managed to hook his fingers into the elastic band of your panties, tugging it down your thighs just enough for him to finally reach your most sensitive places. this was all it took for him to get to you, hiking up your nightgown and simply just pulling off your underwear. the thought alone made him twitch in his firm grasp, making his hold tighten around it.

his fingers grazed your dripping slit, feeling the evidence of your excitement on the pads of his fingers, so slimy and warm, it made his mouth water, his tasting buds aching to just lick it off. pushing those fantasies aside, he felt like he’d explode if he’s not in you in the next two minutes. he moved flush against your back, his other hand guiding his throbbing erection to nudge your entrance, sinking slowly in with a stretched out moan, breathing it against the back of your neck.

he bottomed out, just savoring the exquisite feeling of your warmth surrounding him, you clenching down tightly in response, feeling the small ridges and veins running along his cock against your wet walls, it made your needy hole gush too. his digits dug into your plush hips, his nails forming small, red half circles as he squeezed your flesh to guide you slowly. his other hand sneaked its way around your torso aiming to have you as close as humanly possible while he was taking you from behind.

“so warm and snug.. you feel so good, baby.. bet you love feeling me inside you so fucking deep..” he seethed through gritted teeth, pulling out to quickly slam himself back, his tip kissing your cervix, your body jerking forward with a sudden gasp from the force, his arm keeping you safe and still, pressing you back against his broad chest.

your juices dripped down along his shaft, coating it thickly, sweet droplets landing on the sheets beneath you, your hole fluttering crazy, sucking him in subconsciously. his cock dragged along your gummy walls lazily, his eyes closed down as delicate whines left your plump lips.

one of his hand slipped between your thighs, nudging them further apart, the pads of his index and middle finger drawing circles furiously on your puffy, throbbing clit as he continued to thrust away, pace only picking up slightly. the pleasure had your muscles tense and your back arch, instinctively squirming from him while he shushed you, trying to keep you there with force and helping to guide your movements.

“‘m close!-.. s-san!..”

“yeah.. go ahead, my sweet girl..” to his reassurance wrapped words, the knot in your tummy tightened further, heat spreading all over your body from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, your skin tingling. “you deserve it, let go.. let me feel you come over my cock. can you do that for me?..”

with a sharp pinch and a quick tug on your swelled nub, a loud moan rippled from your heaving chest as your release hit you like a tidal wave, clamping on his shaft as he continued to piston into you from behind. fucking you through your orgasm turning into chasing his own high when he moved even faster. it was almost as if he didn’t hear your protest. you reached behind, pushing on his chest with your palm and legs closing on his hand still between yours. he resisted well, by just easily keeping you in place.

“it’s okay- i know, love, i know.. a little-.. just a little more, yeah? gonna be good for me and make me cum too, hm?” his sweet and comforting tone made you relax, stopping all your earlier resistance. his abdominal muscles flexed and with a stinging bite in the nape of your neck, he shot his hot ropes of thick seed deep into your waiting womb, your fucked out body shuddering at the sensations.

after a few, sloppy thrust, he finally stilled inside you completely with his spent cock. catching his breath while he peppered soft kisses to the reddened marking he left just now.

his hands sliding to your sides now, soothing your heated up and flushed skin as your eyes fluttered down close, ears already starting to block out his quiet words targeted towards you.

“‘love you.. so grateful for you, baby..” a small, genuine smile threatened to stretch on his lips as he just followed you to sleep soundly, pulling the duvet over you to tuck you in again, keeping you in his strong yet so caring and gentle grip, making the clean up tomorrow’s problem.

plagiarism is strictly forbidden, do not translate my works, copy them or publish them on another site ; @xaer1s

#[ ✧ ﹒ ] aeris writes #ateez #choi san #san smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez san #choi san fanfic #choi san x reader #ateez choi san #choi san scenarios #ateez smut #ateez san smut #ateez san x reader #ateez smut reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez san oneshot

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mysicklove · 2 years ago

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𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

DAY 27: OVERSTIMULATION + EDGING

With: Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuji Itadori

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: sub! Megumi x dom! gn! reader x sub! Yuuji, sadistic/crazy?/meanish reader, weird amounts of cum...like a strangely alot of cum involved, frottage - mlm (ik ik i have another day for this only but i just had to include it), handjobs, bondage, megumi in subspace, megumi goes a little insane? reader checks up on him tho, orgasm denial, orgasm control,

A/N: this is alot. like kinda hardcore. if this is ur first fic of mine or ur first dom! reader fic....try a less agressive fic LOL

Neither of them understood how they got into this situation. The two of them were friends. Never in their lives did they think that they would see each other in positions like these. Megumi was never supposed to see Yuuji’s half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, and Yuuji was never supposed to see Megumi’s high pitched moans, and twitching body. It was lewd. All of it was so lewd, and it seemed to turn the boys on even more.

But of course, this wasnt the first time you've done this. It was a routine by now, but even so, the boys seemed to flush in embarrassment when the two of them knock on your apartment door together. But it may be the slight humiliation that has them crawling back each week.

The two of them sit on either side of you, trapping you in between their muscular bodies. But you weren’t afraid – In fact, even with your cornered position, you were by far in the most control. The way you and the boys like it.

Your hands move up and down in a repetitive stroking motion on both of their cocks. Fushiguro’s is longer but on the thinner side, pretty with a pinkish tip that contrasts the pale skin nicely. Itadoris was girthier, bigger in general, and an impressive sight overall. You even caught Megumi staring wide-eyed the second his best friend pulled down his pants. But even so, Yuuji appeared sheepish, almost embarrassed at his size. It was quite cute, frankly.

But now, they lay content against you. Megumi is on the stiffer side, still embarrassed at the whole situation, but his soft moans show that he is enjoying it. Yuuji, on the other hand, rests his head on your shoulder, occasionally kissing the flesh to show how pleased he is.

“I’ve got a fun idea,” You hum, not stopping your movements on their cocks. It’s a slow pace, but not slow enough where they feel frustrated. A good motion to keep the boys from whining too much. Although, you do plan to change that.

Megumi hums, his eyes falling shut with a shaky sigh. Yuuji blinks up at you, curious. “Yeah? What is it?”

You turn to him with a smile, and accidentally stop your movements. Megumi, ever the little princess, whines out immediately in complaint. Yuuji chuckles into your shoulder at the noise, and you roll your own eyes. “Yeah. Yeah. I know. I know,” You say, hands moving again before he could bark out a real complaint.

“Well,” You hum and then scan the room. “Need a coin or something small,” You murmur, eyes furrowing to search your place for the object. Yuuji, ever the one to please, doesn’t hesitate to pull away from your touch and go searching through his bag stark naked.

Megumi blinks at him and then leans on you, his messy hair tickling your chin. “He is like a dog.”

“It’s cute.”

“Yeah. Can you?” He mumbles into your neck. You smile, knowing exactly what he wants, and thumb at his cock’s head. His eyes slightly roll back, and he groans into your skin. “J-Just like that.”

Yuuji is back in less than a minute, slotting himself in the space next to you, and slightly grinding himself on your knee for a little extra stimulation. He hands you the coin, and you smile at him, kissing his cheek in reward. He beams at you, and you can’t help but smile back.

You pull your hand away from Megumi again, and he basically growls into your shoulder. “So dramatic,” You tease as the boy pouts, grumbling and looking away. “Alright. I'm going to put this coin in one of my hands behind my back, and you guys have to guess which one has it.”

“What’s this for?” The dark-haired one demands.

“You will still touch us, right?” The pink-haired one pleads.

You chuckle at them both. “It’s a secret. And yes, don’t worry, sweetheart.”

They were both intrigued by your actions but obviously wanted whatever game this is to go by quickly so that you'll begin to jerk them off again.

“Whoever guesses correctly gets to cum tonight, and the other does not.”

The boys eyes snap to one another. Neither of them wants the latter. Their kinship was put to a hold. In this moment, all either of them wanted was to have a shattering orgasm.

You place your hands behind your back and move the coin into a hand that they dont see. Then your place two fists in front of them. “Alright who is guessing first?”

You should have known that the two of them werent willing to be polite to one another. “That one!” Both of the boys exclaim, pointing to the fist farthest from each of them. At least they chose different hands, you note, trying to hold back a grin.

The two of them vibrate with nerves, leaning forward and almost pushing at one another. You hold your hands out and wait for a moment, building up more tension. Megumi barks a complaint about how long you are taking, so you roll your eyes and flip your hand open, exposing the coin to the boys.

Yuuji seems to deflate, eyes widening, and then collapsing his head onto your shoulder with a broken whine. Megumi on the other hand tries not to show his excitement, but the widening grin on his face, and the way his fists clench in victory conveys otherwise.

You spare him a feline grin, and he immediately knows that something is amiss. Yuuji wasnt the one to get put through much harsh treatment, considering the boy was always the sweetest to you. Pampered, the two of them were, even if Megumi was a little bit more temperamental. It was rare for them to get punished. You had your rules to follow, and they did (even if Megumi complained once or twice) without hesitation. So there was never a need to be mean to them.

But of course, you never did need a reason, did you?

Yuuji stares. As if in a trance, the dark eyes never leave the sight in front of him. He is completely infatuated by it, desires it, really.

Two quick strokes, focusing primarily on the head, snaps Yuuji out of his trance in an instant. His back straightens, and his eyes widen as he doubles over on himself, nails digging into his thigh. He lets out a shaky, “Heh-Ah!” and his whole body shivers. He was teetering on the edge, just one more stroke and he was bound to come crumbling down. He wanted nothing more than to do so. Your hands pull away, and Yuuji's mouth goes dry, but he doesnt complain. His eyes flicker to it again.

“No. No. No more. No more! I can't do it anymore!” The dark haired man screeches, shaking his head from side to side and biting on his lip. Cum glides down the pink tip, and it begins to coat his balls a murky shade of white. It's sticky, and it makes him feel gross, but his stomach and thighs were no better. It was everywhere, or at least Megumi feels so.

His eyes are tied behind his back. A cruel precaution that Yuuji didn't have. But that is simply because Yuuji was less likely to touch himself than Megumi was to touch you. His wrists are bound together in pretty red soft rope. Your favorite of course. He hates it.

Megumi's legs kick out, and tears stain his face. You frown at him, using your free hand to remove the lip from his teeth. “You're gonna hurt yourself,” You mumble, pouting slightly, and forcing his mouth open. He sniffles, shaking his head, but lets you.

“Y-You're hurting me!” He yelps, leaning his body toward you to convey how upset he feels.

You bark a laugh, shaking your head. “Well that's dramatic. To cum and cum on repeat sounds so appealing…” Your eyes flicker to the pink haired boy. “To Yuuji at least, yeah?”

Megumi notices for the first time tonight Yuuji's stare. It wasn't on his face though, it was focused solely on his now white coated cock. He is panting, chest raising and falling with each deep breath. A drop of precum falls onto the towel beneath him, but he doesn't spare it a glance. His dark eyes never leave Megumi’s cock. Envy is what he feels. How badly did he wish his own dick was stained that color.

Megumi tries to shut his legs in embarrassment, but your hand was currently resting on the base of it, so he fails to. You use one hand to force them apart so that Yuuji can see, and then you give Megumi three warning strokes. His body arches and a broken cry is let out from the overstimulation. He has already cum three times now in this short span of time.

You hover near his ear, gazing at Yuuji in amusement. “Look ‘gumi. He’s enthralled by it. All he wants to do is cum, and here you are complaining about it!” You purr, kissing his cheek and then pulling away.

Yuuji finally speaks up, probably seeing that you kissed the other from his peripheral vision. He glances up at you, and his shoulders slump. “Please.”

A puddle of precum has formed beneath him, but it was nothing compared to the liquid that coats Megumi's pale skin. Your hands begin to pick up the slow pace again, and the boy begins to hiss out. He squirms in your hold, and gets close enough to you for his teeth to latch onto your shoulder. You chuckle at him, but bare him no mind. “What are you pleading about, Yuuji darling?”

He opens his mouth, glances at Megumi who is trying desperately to tear out of the restraints, and then closes it again. His friend's cries go straight to his cock, that was borderline turning purple at this point. He shakes his head, and puppy dog eyes bore into yours. “Please. It hurts.”

You reach over to him, and Yuuji knows better than to get his hopes up. In fact he knows exactly what is happening, so he squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself. One slow pump, and then two, and Yuuji is just grazing his high. He can almost taste it, but you pull away before he can fully experience it. His fingers tense up, and he forcefully raises them to his head to cover his eyes. He was bound to touch himself if he kept them there. Yuuji clenches his teeth and groans, while his cock twitches a couple times, and another glob drops.

“F-Fuck me,” He cries after a moment, resisting the urge to bury his fingers into his skin to hopefully ease the tortuous feeling.

Your hand makes a particularly loud squelching noise, and Yuuji's eyes are back onto your hand and Megumi's cock. He stares at it with need wanting nothing more to be covered in his own cum. To cum as many times as he wishes. It was driving him insane.

Megumi seems to be curling into you. His head somehow found his way into your neck, and he sobs into it, searching for some sort of comfort. He is hiccuping by now, and a bountiful of different fluids coat his face, let out without his control. “So mean. Mean. Mean. Mean,” The boy chants, and you hum at him, petting his hair.

“I know. But you are so pretty like this, you know I can't help it,” You murmur, one hand continuing to stroke him off, while the other tries to comfort him.

“Noooooo,” He whines in return, and you kiss his temple, mumbling into his ear about how wrong he is.

You hear Yuuji call your name and you spare him a glance. Tears were finally cascading down his pretty tan face, and your eyes light up. “What's wrong, Yuuji?”

He comes tumbling forward, his forehead resting on the bed before you. He cries into it, and grips onto the sheets just inches from Megumi's knee. “I-It hurts. I'm going insane. Please. Please, I'll do anything. Please let me cum, I am begging you,” He warbles, close to tearing the sheets apart.

You sigh and look away from the two. “Well you two are no fun,” You complain, ignoring the way Megumi whines into your neck. Yuuji doesn't move from his bowing position. “Yuuji, you want to cum?”

“I-I'll do anything! I promise!” He proclaims into the sheet.

You smile at the back of his head. “Good! You can rut against Megumi's cock then, since you've been eyeing it all night.”

You pull your hand away from the cum coated cock, and wipe the remains on Megumi's thighs. He remains quiet, trying to catch his breath.

Yuuji raises his head from his bowed position, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. He glances at his friend's trembling body and gulps. “That will…I–F-Fushiguro?”

Green eyes flicker to you first, and it doesn't take much thought to realize that he seemed to slip into the subspace. The eyes are hazy, and little thought seems to be behind them. “You…Want me to?”

You rub at his cheek. “I do. You'll make Yuuji feel good. And I bet you'll have fun too!” You coax, already helping him out of his place in your lap. He struggles to stay up, body nearly collapsing from exertion. Yuuji catches him before he falls back, and you grin at the pink haired boy with a nod.

The hands still remain tied behind his back, and he holds himself up on his knees. Yuuji is in a similar kneeling position, stabilizing the other by holding onto his shoulder. His eyes flicker back to Megumi's cock, completely naturally lubricated, and then he shakes his head to snap out of his thoughts. “I-It wont take me long, okay Fushiguro? J-Just need...Need a little stimulation…Please?”

“Yeah, I know. Just be gentle, please. I’m s-sensitive,” He mumbles in return, strangely not caring about his tear and drool face. Even his stained cock didn't bother him.

Yuuji nods his head, and gulps, turning to you for confirmation. You nod at him, and in return, he brings Megumi's body closer to his. Their stomachs touch, and the pink haired man places his head in the others neck. He brings one hand to Megumi's ass, and pushes it forward, forcing the two of their cocks to touch.

Its so wet, so lubricated, and must be so easy to glide against. Yuujis eyes roll back, and Megumi lets out a broken cry. He starts his rutting, and everything seems to go blank. It's wet, and the two of their cocks make a lewd sort of noise that drives him insane. “Oh fuck, Fushiguro,” Yuuji whimpers, and Megumi in return cries out.

He forces Megumis body closer to his, and the man yelps. “Gentle Itadori, p-please!” But the other doesnt listen, and continues to grind their cocks together at a rapid pace, loving the feeling of the sticky lubrication. More tears come tumbling out of the dark haired man, and you watch in silence, completely intrigued by the whole thing.

You watch Yuuji grab some cum from Megumis thighs, and place it onto their cocks. He moans out, and your eyes widen in delight. “Yuuji,” You purr, and the man glances over at you, shivering under your gaze. “If you get him to cum again, could you imagine how much extra lubricant you will have?”

Yuujis eyes widen at the prospect, and he begins to respond, but is cut off. Megumi begins to laugh, and the noise startles the both of you. The laugh is more like a yelp, a sort of mix of a cry and a giggle. You glance over to him, and his face is broken out into a grin. The tears dont stop flowing from his eyes, and his whole body is twitching rapidly under Yuuji's hold. A strange sight.

“Megumi,” You question, forcing Yuujis hips away from the other to give him space just in case something was wrong. “You alright, love?”

He shakes his head back and forth rapidly and you raise your eyebrows. “N-Nothings gonna come out!” He giggles with a hiccup, and Yuuji's eyes widen in surprise. “Gonna shoot blanks!”

You gulp, and a shiver runs down your spine. You feel Yuujis gaze on you, but you don't look away from Megumi. “I-I wanna see it,” You whisper, pupils dilating at the prospect. You let go of Yuujis hips, and nod at him to continue.

“I-I dont think I can last that long,” The pink haired one mumbles out, and you brush him off.

“You will, do you understand?”

He whimpers, but nods, and then brings Megumi back closer to him. But to both of their surprises, you wrap your hand around their cocks. Yuuji whines, and Megumi borderlines yelps. You don't say anything as your hand rises and falls. “N-No, no, no. I can't last. Please. Please.”

Megumi's fit of giggles ends quickly, and he's back to crying. Yuuji’s teeth dig into his neck, and the dark haired man's back arches and he hisses out. “Yes you can,” You encourage, “You just gotta wait for Megumi to cum.”

Yuujis arms come wrapped around the other, and he begins to grind himself onto the other. “F-Fushiguro, you have to cum. Please cum. Please please cum!” He pleads, hoping that his movement will help spur the other on.

Megumi shakes his head back and forth, and he continues to sob. “I-I'm close. Its too much, oh fuck!” Your hand focuses on the tip, and you watch Megumi's hands try to break out of the restraints again.

Yuujis nails drag down the others' backs and by now, he's crying. “It hurts. I need it. Please. I can't hold it. Please Fushiguro let me cum!”

A broken cry is let out, and Megumi hits his climax. The second Yuuji sees Megumi's eyes roll back, he comes tumbling after him. Unlike the stoic boy proclaimed earlier, two globs of cum leak out of his pink cock. But, to be honest, you're not too disappointed, because the sight of them cumming together was truly a pretty sight. Yuuji shoots his load all over Megumi's stomach.

Yuuji clings onto the other like Megumi was some sort of lifeline, and if Megumi didn't have his hands binded, you are sure he would do the same. Tears stain the tan boy's shoulder, and he continues to hiccup through it all. Yuuji, on the other hand, is loud. He moans out, high in pitch and cracked.

And when the two come down from their high they peel away from each other, completely spent. Yuuji finds himself resting his head on your shoulder, with a content smile, and Megumi is sprawled across your lap, currently getting untied and cleaned up. And eventually, once the two of them are cleaned up, and receive proper after care (involving tons and tons of praise for megumi, and physical affection for Yuuji), the two of them pass out, curled up next to one another.

But everything after that night was strange. Whenever you ask them to guess what the hand of the coin is, the boys seem to scamper away from you, completely terrified of the outcome. It was a pity, truly, especially since you plan to have them switch positions next time. Luckily you didn't need a coin game to decide their fates.

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