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deliwrites · 1 month ago

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𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕆𝕦𝕣𝕤 // Saja Boys & Huntr/x

// DATE // 3rd of July 2025 → 5th of July 2025 // PAIRING //Huntr/x x Fem!Reader x Saja Boys // WARNING // Morally gray behavior, oblivious reader, (friendly)touches, fluff // WORDS // 2.5k+ // SUMMARY // Y/n moves in with the members of Huntr/x, expecting to feel like a guest—but instead finds unexpected comfort, soft affection, and maybe something more. She just doesn’t realize how closely she’s being watched… or how deep their interest really runs.

// You're Ours Masterlist // Previous // Part Four // Next //

a/n: I'm really sorry, I have so many scenes in my head that I wanna write that I struggled to make this one. Not a lot happens in this, but I hope you still enjoy it! And I really hope the next chapter will be better!

Meanwhile with the Saja Boys. The five of them are frantically setting up hidden camera’s in every room. Of both the Huntr/x apartment and their own, just one floor below.

They had been at it since the moment the ladies had teleported near Luminara Entertainment. They had no idea how long they would take, but were thankful for Zoey’s updates.

Telling them exactly what they were doing, including helping Y/n through a panic attack, how they had calmed her down and… the toy incident.

That one had the group pausing mid-task, smirks tugging at their lips. Just the thought of her using it… yeah, that had taken up way more time that it should have.

“Okay, I think we’re nearly set,” Romance says finishing setting up the last camera. In the top corner of the guest bedroom hiding in plain sight. On top of the curtain rail. Soon to be Y/n’s new bedroom.

“All that’s left is to check if they actually work,” Jinu says. Baby the most tech savvy of the five of them installed the surveillance app on all their phones. Put a reminder in his own phone to also install it on the girls’ phones later.

It’s to keep her safe, they told themselves.

Not wanting to startle Y/n when she first arrives they go back to their own apartment when Zoey lets them know they are riding the elevator up.

Streaming the surveillance app to their tv so they could all makes sure Y/n was doing alright.

I felt jittery all over. Never in a million years did I expect to ever see Honmoon Tower from the inside. Let alone Huntr/x’s apartment.

And now… I get live here!?

When the elevator doors open they walk out casually. Carrying my bags, not allowing me to carry one of them. While I pretty much tiptoe out the elevator.

There is no shoe rack or anything, but the tiled floor looks to expensive for my cheap sneakers. Toeing them off I hold them with one finger in each heal. Practically sliding on my socks. I stare at all their song and albums on vinyl’s encased in acrylic which hang on the wall to my right in a perfect grid.

Slowly I walk further into the apartment, hiding my excitement. The girls disappear upstairs which has me halting by the spiral staircase that looks like it shouldn’t even work. I would fear each step would break the moment I stepped on the purple glass. Unless it’s not glass?

My eyes widen when my eyes finally catch the floor to ceiling windows that showcase the cityscape, glowing with life in this mid afternoon. Mouth in a perfect ‘o’ shape as I take in the rest of the ground floor of this two story apartment.

There is a open concept kitchen to my left, with beautiful sleek black cabinets with glowing under-counter lights and white marble countertops. A gold rim around the countertop making it look almost too expensive to wanna use. But boy do I want to. All the things I could bake here, I barely register me doing a silent happy dance by jumping from foot to foot for a bit. Think Anna from frozen when she shows Christof his new sled.

“Oh my god, that is adorable,” Abby says an adoring smile on his face. “I’m saving that,” he takes out his phone and saves the last minute of the live feed.

There is a dining table behind the kitchen, a gorgeous glass table with off white chairs, ten to be precise. Why would they need so many chairs? Did they hold meeting here?

The kitchen island has four green velvet like island chairs with black legs to match the cabinets and gold trims like the counter top. But why exactly four?

On the other side of the kitchen sits a gold iron bared shelving unit, floor to ceiling. See through with shelves at random heights. Behind it Two comfy chairs that could easily be a loveseat for two people hidden behind the iron shelves. The chairs the same green as the island chairs. A honey comb like side table in the middle of the two facing chairs. Also, is the floor an aquarium? What is that?

In front of me sat a sunken lounge area. Sofa so long it curled a bit like a snake. Pretty much becoming a half hexagonal shape. It looked incredibly comfortable, covered in a fluffy cream colored fabric. A few pillows in every corner, two blankets. Which is not nearly enough in my opinion. A duck plushy peeking just over the edge. The sight of is had me pick up my shoulders at the randomness of us in a silent chuckle.

Another two of those comfortable looking green chairs faced the couch. A hexagonal coffee table in the center of it with a gigantic blue, yellow and pink rug under it.

And was that… oh my god, a grand piano!

Gorgeous gold accents made of transparent dark blue acrylic. It’s always been a dream of mine to own a grand piano. And while obviously this one isn’t mine. I couldn’t wait to play it.

I’m still standing in the same place when I hear footsteps behind me, but before I can turn around, an arm wraps around my shoulder and I let out a soft gasp. My shoes nearly slipping from my fingers.

“It’s just us,” Rumi says with a soft chuckle. Zoey’s arm curls around my waist, taking my sneakers from me. Turning far enough to place them on one of the steps, managing to stay close keeping her hold on my waist.

Mira leans against the kitchen counter a few steps away, head tilted. “We were wondering if you got lost,” she says, a teasing tone in her voice, a smirk playing on her lips. Though her gaze is soft.

A flush crawls up my cheeks, subconsciously sinking deeper into the other twos hold. Not that they minded. “I didn’t want to overstep-” I mumble cut off by Zoey.

“Gwiyomi,” she says, squeezing my waist gently. “You live here now. You don’t have to hover like a guest.”

“You don’t need our permission just to breathe,” Rumi adds, squeezing my shoulder against her body. The smiles on their faces has my heart doing this - stupid - fluttery thing. Making me mentally shake my head. They are just being friendly, Y/n! Don’t you dare look for something that isn’t there.

Nodding, I let them guide me to the couch where they flop down, letting out a relaxing sigh. I carefully take a seat a little ways away, pulling my legs up. Only then do I notice they’ve changed out of their workout clothes. Rumi and Mira’s hair is down again like it normally would be. And they are all dressed in comfy pajama pants and oversized sweater. They look cozy and dangerously cuddlable.

Zoey’s phone bzzes beside her, she scans her phone before turning to me. What did she see that made her look at me so quickly?

Jinu So you all get into comfy clothes, and leave Y/n in her day outfit?

“Come, let go get you something comfy,” I don’t get the chance to protest as she starts pulling me off the couch. Practically dragging me up the stairs. We pass four doors, two on either side before she opens the third door on our left. “This is your room,” she announces enthusiastically.

Entering the room my feet are met with soft cream colored carpet, a complete contrast to the rug from the living room. The door opens too the left wall of the room, a smile white nightstand about a feet away from the door when it’s fully open.

My gaze is immediately drawn to the bed, centered on the soft lavender walls. The low, plush frame is wrapped in textured fabric that matches the tall headboard - stitched with clean vertical lines that make it look even softer. The pillows are freshly fluffed, dressed in dark lavender cases that match the sheets. At the foot of the bed lies a neatly folded white throw, like it was placed with care. On the far side of the bed stands a second, identical nightstand.

Zoey disappears into a walk-in closet tucked into the right corner of the room, the door cracked open behind her. Directly opposite the bed, a wide desk stretches along the wall, a plush chair tucked neatly in front of it. To the left of the desk is another door. And along the far wall, floor to ceiling windows reach from corner to corner, heavy cream curtains draped to either side.

I follow Zoey into the closet and find her shuffling through my clothes. Did they really have enough time while I gushed over their apartment to unpack my stuff?

“Ooh, this is cute!” she takes out one of my sweaters. A deep green crochet sweater with delicate flowers just below the shoulders across the collarbones. “Put it on!” she watches me with such bright eyes I didn’t dare leave the small space.

With a flush on my cheeks, I slip my fingers beneath the hem of the shirt I’m wearing and tug it over my head. Missing the way her eyes scan my exposed chest, only covered by a soft cup bra. I hold the shirt in front of me like a shield. It’s not like she hasn’t seen a body before, but somehow, being under her stare feels vulnerable.

She takes the sweater off the hanger and gives it to me. Putting it on, a squeal comes from Zoey. “You look so cute in this… Gwiyomi,” she winks.

“Thank you…” I mumble quietly, touched by the compliment, biting my bottom lip. Not used to these kinds of compliments. She returns her attention to the closet and swiftly finds a pair of light gray sweatpants and holds it out to show me.

She doesn’t have to tell me again, I instinctively unbutton my jeans. Shoving them down before nearly toppling over as I struggle to yank my foot out of the leg. But Zoey is there to steady me. Her hands, steady and warm, slipping just beneath the hem of my sweater to hold my waist.

Her fingers press into my skin gently but it’s the way she lingers that sends my brain spiraling. She's just keeping me balanced. That’s all. That’s what I tell myself as my heart does this traitorous stutter in my chest. Once I’m free from the jeans, I straighten up, cheeks burning.

“Here, let me help you,” Zoey crouches before me. Rolling up the legs. “Hold my shoulders.”

“I- okay…” I rest my hands on her shoulders, tentative, feeling how solid she is beneath my fingers. She guides me into the pants with such easy confidence I don’t know whether to feel grateful… or mildly humiliated. I mean, I can dress myself. But I’m not exactly in a rush to stop her, either.

Her hands glide over my skin as she pulls up the sweatpants. Fingers brushing along my thighs, then lingering on my ass for just a bit too long but it’s just an innocent touch. Right?

“Oh, and here,” she quickly sets my slippers in front of me. Letting me toe them on.

“Thank you, Zoey,” I murmur.

“Of course, gwiyomi,” my heart continues to flutter at the nickname, but I mentally shake my head. This is the third time she’s called me cutie. Maybe she just likes pet names? “Let’s go back down,” she takes my hand as she starts tugging me out of the room.

“Oh, wait, where does that door go?” I quickly ask before we can exit my new room. She hmm’s stopping in her tracks, looking at the door on the left side of the desk.

“That is your bathroom,” she grins before she continues to pull me along. Her hand holding mine like we’ve always done this. “When we first moved in we decided it wasn’t fair for either of us to have the ensuite,” she explains while we walk. “So we share the bigger bathroom.”

“But- how is it fair that I get it?” I ask, pressing my free hand to my chest like I was even less worthy of the ensuite myself.

“What’s not fair?” a male voice surprises me, finding Abby in the kitchen. Knife in hand while he looks our way with a raised brow.

“Oh,” Zoey waves a hand. “She thinks she doesn’t deserve the ensuite.”

“Why would you not deserve the ensuite?” It’s Romance, stood by the double stove.

“I- well, I-” unable to think of a reason I just stop talking. Tugging at the hem of sweater, self conscious of the small gap between my sweater and sweatpants that shows a sliver of my skin.

“This is a cute sweater,” It’s like Jinu appears out of thin air beside me. His fingers tracing the flowers on my collarbones.

“Oh,” a flush covers my cheeks. Will there ever be a moment with them where I won’t turn red like a tomato? “Thank you,” I nod once almost like I’m bowing to him in thanks. Jinu smiles before joining Abby and Romance in the kitchen. Zoey takes my hand again, guiding me back to the couch.

There sit Mystery and Baby like they come here often. Zoey tugs me down to sit between her and Baby, her thigh brushing against mine. I try not to let my feet rest against Baby. But he just sends me a smile with a look I can’t quite decipher. His hands find my ankles shifting my feet so the balls of them rest against his thigh.

I look between all of them, one question bouncing around in my head. “Do you guys visit each other often?” my question is sudden. I don’t mean for it to sound nosy but my curiosity gets the better of me.

“More often than you might think,” Abby chuckles.

If that is what it takes for them to spend as much time with Y/n as possible. Then meet up they would. Plus it would help with keeping each other updated if they were all there to see what happens with Y/n.

“We try to eat together at least a few times a week,” Mira confirms with a soft nod.

“Today, it’s our turn to cook,” Mystery says from the other side of Baby. “But, the girls told us you would be here, so we figured it was better for you if we came up.”

“Instead of making you come down to ours when you haven’t even settled in yet,” Baby adds, hand squeezing my ankle gently.

“You… didn’t have to include me,” I say, wide eyed. “You guys are friends-” a look unnoticed by Y/n is shared between the eight. “-I’m just a random person. I could have cooked for myself.”

“Nonsense,” Romance replies instantly. “Plus you deserve a little comfort after what happened today.”

“And if the girls are ever out, and you need something,” Jinu starts. “We will be at your service,” he winks voice a little deeper than normal.

Okay, what is happening to this heart of mine? Quiet down, they are JUST being friendly.

// You're Ours Masterlist // Previous // Part Four // Next //

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foldingfittedsheets · 1 year ago

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When deciding who to work for there is a sliding scale of employers that goes from lil mom and pop shops up to corporate monoliths. I have worked at both ends of the spectrum and I can pretty definitively say that tiny businesses are hands down the most insane employers.

The sweet spot is a place that has like 10-20 stores; that’s the best possible work environment. They’ll be polished enough to have protocols that make work structured, but not so bogged down with bureaucracy that nothing can ever get done.

This story is not from that sweet spot. This story is from my time working at Oil and Vinegar. Now, like many little franchise stores, the idea was solid. There was on tap imported olive oil and vinegar and it was really delicious. Top shelf. Unfortunately, each location was like the Wild West because owners varied wildly.

My owner was the human embodiment of Mr. Krabbs. His eyes were just constant dollar signs. Throughout my training he informed me of the price of every single piece of equipment I touched and how much it cost to replace it.

He had cameras set up to watch us, and an app on his phone to access the live feed. He’d call us to ask what we were doing when he’d just checked a camera to make sure we were being honest.

Now, the trouble was he had two locations. His location further south did amazing. It was way more centrally located and got three times the foot traffic. The one I worked in was in the snottiest mall possible in Arizona and consequently the rent was through the roof.

It was not going well for my store. We didn’t get as much traffic, so there was only so much I could do in a day. I could dust, sweep, and wait for customers. I read a lot and was frank when he called to interrogate me. I always asked for additional tasks but he never had any. What could I do to prop up a failing business?

But this man was convinced there was some Secret Reason that the store I was in was doing worse. He crunched numbers, looked at staff, and eventually hit upon the most insane possible solution.

We used too much toilet paper.

We were probably stealing toilet paper! Bleeding him dry one single ply square at a time! How dare we need to use the bathroom?! His south location used half as much toilet paper as we did, we must be thieving little monsters!!!!

Friends. The south location was populated entirely by men. My location had three people on staff who had to sit to pee. It was so blindly transparently the source of the discrepancy but this man was convinced we were making off with toilet paper to bankrupt him.

So he implemented what he believed to be an entirely reasonable response to this base treachery. We were allowed to have one roll of toilet paper. At any given time, one roll was permitted to us. This was so transparently unhinged that we protested but he insisted. If we were low on toilet paper we needed to call him to drop off a roll that he brought from his home. Smiling jovially, he assured us he lived so close by that it would be no problem!

When we needed to call him often for more he started tearing his hair out. What were we using toilet paper for?! Why wasn’t his genius plan to stop our scandalous waste working??!

Finally, the manager, the only man on staff had to pull the owner aside and be like, “Look, man, their bladders are smaller. They need to wipe every time they pee. They need to pee even more on their period. Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

Yes. It was. The manager was fired unrelated reasons and denounced as a traitor. The toilet paper ration lasted until I quit and probably until the store closed six months later.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #retail #story #writing #retail hell

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todomochi-uwu · 27 days ago

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sweet as sugar, daddy.

Pairing(s): Luffy x reader; Zoro x reader; Sanji x reader; Ace x reader; Law x reader Genre: Smut Warnings: This content is for a mature audience Synopsis: Living the sugar baby dream Author's notes: I can't believe this took me a fucking month. Enjoy these sugar daddies!

Masterlist

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee

Luffy

He’s a very famous Twitch streamer; it makes sense, right? He’s funny, a good gamer, hot, oblivious to standard social cues, the usual.

He has everything he wants, but something is missing. He’s tried dating, but nothing has really come out of it.

“Why don’t you try getting a sugar baby?” Nami suggests, clearly, as a joke.

But wait a sec. Yeah, why doesn’t he get a sugar baby? He’s got the money, time, and initiative. What else does it take?

You met through a dating app that Nami had to help him look for. In your profile picture, you're wearing a low-cut tank top at a café, surrounded by desserts, and your bio mentions that you like dogs, food, and adventures. Also, no perverts, only serious deals.

Well, he likes the same things, he’s not a pervert, and he’s serious about this.

To be honest, he doesn’t quite understand what a sugar baby is. In his mind, a girlfriend and a sugar baby are the same thing, just with a cuter name.

Any kind of debt? He pays. Need a new phone? He pays. Need new clothes? He pays. Don’t need anything? Still, he pays.

“Lu, I need...” “Here’s my credit card.”

Loves having you on his channel, sitting on his lap while he plays. People in the comments ask a lot of questions, but he doesn’t answer any of them. He’s just happy that you’re here.

Shows you the games he likes, even if you are bad at them. He enjoys watching you play. Gifts you the Mangas he’s reading and loves hearing your opinions on them.

Remember I said he doesn’t understand social cues? Welp.

Your relationship quickly turns sexual. Luffy doesn’t really know how to keep his hands to himself. “Hey, do you ever touch yourself?” You choke on your salad.

He loves watching you masturbate.

Riding him on his gaming chair while he’s playing seems to be his favourite thing to do.

Him eating you out as soon as you walk into his apartment (you are now one of his favourite meals; always hot and ready).

You never speak about it, but your little arrangement turns into an actual relationship.

“Shh, sweets. You need to calm down, they're gonna find out.” He whispered in your ear while you sat down on his lap.

Luffy was streaming a new popular horror game. He had asked you to join him and you were happy to do it. He just had a small request.

“Hey, can we do that thing we tried last week?”

And that’s how you ended up sitting on his lap, dick impaling you and you trying your hardest not to moan every time he moved.

Luffy laughed with the scare jumps, moved around when reading comments and couldn’t seem to stay put to save his life (or your digital footprint). At some point you began suspecting he was doing it on purpose, the way his hands would run down your thighs, his hips would move against yours, pushing his cock against your spot and how he would leave small kisses on the back of your head.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, baby. Are you having fun?” He said as his hand went under your skirt, his fingers quick to find your clitoris and toy with it. The camera couldn’t see what he was doing, but your face said everything.

Zoro

He owns a bar. Loving sake and getting drunk really pays off, right? (Drink responsibly).

He’s a hot-headed, cynical, moody asshole, but goddamn if he isn’t so fucking hot. Along with the fact that he’s older and swimming in cash? Sign me the fuck up.

It should be easy for him to get whoever he pleases, but let’s face reality. This man doesn’t know how to get pussy and he’s not learning anytime soon.

Nami must be a saint to be helping all these desperate ass men. But now he’s got you and doesn’t have a clue as to what to do.

Dates? Um, sure, does hanging out at the gym or his bar count? No? Well, shit, what else is he supposed to do?

Nami said he should give you his credit card, so he did that and called it a day. No questions asked, he’s not really interested in what you are doing with the money. Though he will get a bit excited whenever he sees you wearing something he can recognise the charge for on his card.

Zoro is a simple yet complicated man. He won’t be an overly affectionate or needy sugar daddy, but he’s always present. He’s also a private man, so he’ll appreciate it if you keep your relationship on the downlow.

Makes you call him at the end of the day and listens to you ramble about whatever subject is on your mind, though he doesn’t say much. Whenever you show him what you bought on your shopping spree, he makes sure to pay extra attention if it comes to lingerie and jewellery; makes sure you take care of yourself, no injuries untreated or empty bellies on his watch.

He would never be the first to make a move when it comes to being sexual. Not that it doesn’t cross his mind, but the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable.

But he’s a man, a possessive man, and one of the guys he calls a friend is a whore (ahem, Sanji), so it’s safe to say you end up with your guts rearranged and your thighs burning, core crying on the chef’s kitchen bar. And he feels so damn proud of himself.

It’s amazing how things can change in just a couple of minutes. One moment, you were sitting in Sanji’s living room, he was praising your beauty and eagerly listening to whatever came out of your mouth, his hands caressing yours and you thinking how nice Zoro’s friends were. And the next moment, as soon as Sanji excused himself to take a call, your back was pressed against the kitchen’s bar and your head hanging off the edge with your sugar daddy’s head in between your legs.

“Zoro... fuck, Zoro we are going to get caught.” Your lips said something, but your hands pushing him closer to your core said something else. His fingers pushed on your clit while his tongue fucked you, your juices falling on the chef’s floor. He was being sloppy, rough and the slurps he made had you clenching your thighs around his head.

He groaned against your cunt, “He can watch for all I care. Fucking perv cook messing with what’s mine.” He’s nowhere near done.

Sanji

He’s a Michelin chef with multiple restaurants around the world. You know the drill.

He’s got fame, money, and looks.

But he can’t get a woman to save his life. Too intense, too desperate, too needy, too much.

If Luffy (and fucking Zoro) can get himself a sugar baby, why can’t he do the same? (He’ll ask, and practically beg, Nami to help him. If she did it for Luffy, why not for him? Yeah, now he owes her.)

That’s how you end up with this man. And you really can’t complain.

Handsome, elegant, obsessed with you and made of money. What else could you ask for?

You are the first to try his new recipes and techniques; your opinion is really important to him.

He’s a sucker for you the second he sees you. Will bend over backwards just to keep you happy. Expensive clothes, the finest jewellery, trips to places you’ve never even dreamed of.

Sanji is not hard to please; your existence keeps him satisfied. But... you know, a girl’s got needs. He may act all high and mighty around his friends, but you know better. You’ve got him on his knees, literally.

He lives to please you, in and out of the sheets.

You like head? Good, because he loves giving it. This man could live the rest of his days between your legs and die happy. Day or night, before or after work, in public or private; you can be sure he’ll eat you out and have you crying on his tongue in just a couple of minutes.

Are you more of a top or a bottom? Don’t worry, he’s a switch. Whether you feel like crying from stimulation or making him beg for more, he’s there to indulge you in all and every single way you can imagine.

But beware, you might or might not fall in love while getting your guts rearranged, but I can assure you he will fall head over heels for you the second he gets a taste of your sweet body, no doubt.

Right now, your head could only process two things, how you were stuck in the traffic on the back of Sanji’s car, and how good his cock felt inside you. You lost count of how many times you’ve cum. Is it five or six? His head is on your neck, leaving small hickies and kisses on your skin, making sure to mark you as his. His thrusts are relentless and rough, completely contrary to the sweet words he whispers against your mouth.

“You are taking me so well, princess.” His hands pushed you up and down his shaft, juices oozing out and covering the leather seats. His tip pushed against all the right places, making tears spill out of your eyes and your skin crawl from the overstimulation.

Your eyes were at the back of your head, your tongue lolled out of your mouth, his name all came out of you, “Sanji! Oh my god, Sanji! Too much!”

“Shh, sweetheart, the chauffeur might hear you.”

Ace

He’s the CFO at Whitebeard’s company. Truly a nepo baby, but he is sure to earn his position. Which leaves him little to no time for dating, socialising, or existing. But he’s okay with it... right?

Amazing how Whitebeard is the one who helps him get laid. Truly shameful his old man is getting more pussy than him (it makes him want to puke just thinking about it), also makes him wonder, how does the old man know how to get a sugar baby? Yeah, that’s a question he doesn’t want the answer to.

He’s a confident man, so he makes you feel secure the first time you meet. He’s not cold or distant whatsoever, but fierce and sure of what he wants and needs. He knows his way with words and makes sure to fluster you every chance he gets.

Thank God, Mr. Newgate had already warned you about his “sleep attacks” cause having to save a man from choking on a plate of mashed potatoes in the middle of a first date is not your definition of ideal.

Ace is too hot, too charming and too generous as a sugar daddy. Gold, rare trinkets and gifts that are way too expensive, and way too big flood your apartment in mere weeks.

Clothes, jewellery, bags, fuck it, even puppies, show at your door with just a call.

Likes showing you off, so he takes you everywhere he can, and introduces you as ‘his girl’ (man got me on my fucking knees with the bare minimum.)

He takes you out on creative and adventurous dates, so be prepared for anything. From fucking rock climbing to taking you to the opening of new club. But he’ll slow down if you feel like it’s too much.

You have him wrapped around your finger; he’ll worship the ground you walk on. It amuses Whitebeard to see his son stay put and be compliant for once in his life.

Just as his brother, Ace doesn’t really care about the difference between an actual girlfriend and a sugar baby; you are his and he will claim you as such.

“Such a nice view, isn’t it, baby?” Tits pressed against the window of his office, staring at the starry sky and the bright city. You could barely keep your eyes open, his cock kept bullying your cervix with every thrust, making your legs tremble.

His hands were holding you up, his nails biting so hard into your skin that they will surely leave marks. His hips slamming against your plush bottom and his balls slapping on your clit again and again. “Fuck, angel you are squeezing me so fucking tight.” His palm smacked your ass, “cum again for me. Fuck, come on, baby.”

“Daddy!” Your core clenched desperately, the knot on your tummy threatened to snap any second now, and just like that, juices spilt violently out of you, splashing your thighs, his and the floor.

“Good fucking job, sweetheart!” He moaned behind you. You expected him to slow down, but even if you had just cum, he didn’t plan on stopping.

Law

He’s a brilliant surgeon. All his work and effort have paid off, even if it meant sacrificing his youth. He feels fulfilled in every aspect of his work life.

But what about the rest of his life?

He’s tired of people asking him why he won’t bring anyone to the charity galas and events, and he’s even more tired of people coming and flirting with him.

He's tried dating, but he can’t flirt or even follow a conversation. Those are things they don’t teach you at med school.

One day, while doomscrolling on his phone, he comes across an ad for a sugar baby dating app. He’s quick to dismiss it, thinking that it’s for desperate people. The next day, he signed up. Meets a couple of people, but none of them catch his attention, and he’s really close to giving up. When he comes across your profile.

Now you are at his side at every event, and he’s content. No one’s bothering him with questions or measly romantic approaches, and he’s got an arm candy. Life is good.

He sees your relationship as a business transaction; you get what you want, and in return, he doesn’t have to go out and make a fool of himself. Everybody wins.

He pays debts, buys whatever you want, and more.

He’s not so present in the beginning because of work, and because he’s still getting the hang of being in this kind of relationship, or any relationship, for that matter.

Likes to think you were the one to fall first, but it’s a lie; he did. And he fell even harder.

It was slow and he kept denying himself, but everyone could see through his bullshit. The way he made time for you, cutting down on his work and research hours, answering texts, buying random things that reminded him of you (he’ll claim you asked for them and just forgot about it.)

He wishes he had confessed his feelings in a different way, but Law is cold, calculating and professional in his field, so it also transfers to his personal life. Yet, at the end of the day, he’s still a man. A man who likes to get his dick wet.

Visits to the doctor have never been more fulfilling. Law had asked you to meet him at his office so you guys could have lunch together, since the last days he’d been too busy to see you. He was tired and stressed, but the second he saw you it was like all that had melted away. He recognised the clothes you were wearing, a tight, really short dress you’d bought last time you went out, a nice pair of shoes and the very expensive bag he’d given you for your birthday.

In the blink of an eye, he had you against the bookshelf of his office. His cock reaching deep into your pussy and his lips attached your nipple, his thrusts were unforgiven and lacked rhythm. He felt like a horny teenager all over again.

“Holy shit, Law.” You tried to keep quiet, not wanting any patients or any other doctors to hear you. But Law was fucking you without a single care.

Books flew down to the ground, along with some frames, but nothing made him stop, “fuck, love. You feel so fucking good.” He moaned against your skin.

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eowynstwin · 9 months ago

Text

clawing at the door

ghoap x reader. jealousy. bisexual soap. bisexual ghost. emotionally constipated ghost. manipulative soap. ghost likes em thick. lightly explicit. MDNI. ao3

When Ghost first sees you and Soap together, his jealousy is hard to parse. He doesn't quite understand what he's feeling.

On the one hand, Occam's Razor. Simple explanations usually prove the truest. Soap is his boy, has been since Las Almas, and you are an interloper in their hard-won dynamic. Ghost does not absorb others into his life lightly, even less so then he allows them to strongarm themselves beneath the mask. He doesn't particularly like people, isn't really fond of their tendency toward abject mortality.

Soap's strong arms are a rare exception. And Ghost has nearly died too many times not to admire a nice round ass when he sees one—the kind that glistens and quivers beneath the weak spray of a communal shower. Some part of him has always kind of supposed the sergeant had been showing off specifically for him, too, when he dropped trousers and moaned like a whore when the hot water started flowing.

The boy certainly dogs his steps like that's the case.

Then, you: showing up on base one day, Soap's hand spread wide and possessive on the small of your back. Jewel-bright eyes following your every move. Blush high and feverish on his boy's cheekbones every time you throw half a smile his way.

So it's envy. So it's a crush, unrequited.

Simple problem, simple solution. Getting over by getting under and all that. There are apps for every heartache, and plenty of hard-bodied gym rats out there tripping over themselves to bottom for a brute like him, who can actually throw them around.

Not two minutes after making his profile (military, six-five, top), likely candidates start filing themselves into his inbox. Some part of his ego is gratified, at least. The influx of taint pics certainly confirms for him that his vanity, in fact, is justified, even if the last thing he wants to see is some random stranger's asshole.

He messages a jacked brunette with brown eyes and dimples, who led instead with a comparatively tame "hey big guy," and lets him pick the bar where they'll meet up.

And it's...fine.

The guy is fine. Equally as attractive in person as on camera, with curly hair and short stubble. He's there before Ghost, and directs an easygoing smile at him when he drops onto a stool at the bar beside him.

He doesn't even question the mask, though his eyes linger on it, half-lidded, the kind of way that suggests he's figuring something out about himself that he hadn't considered before. Not the first time it's happened for Ghost.

The problem with fine is that Ghost can't work up even much of a chub talking to him. The guy has a nasally voice and a friendly attitude that makes Ghost's teeth go numb from the sweetness. When they sequester in the dingy pub bathroom, the guy goes to his knees like an angel, and Ghost's cock actually softens more, thoroughly bored already with the notion of this random guy’s mouth on it.

The problem is, Soap would bust Ghost's balls for this.

Sure, Ghost could get him on his knees. Soap is a good boy, he'll take an order if he's given one. But he's also a fucking brat, and the moment Ghost pulled his cock out Soap would immediately start complaining about it.

Too big, too ugly, not hard enough, and when was the last time Ghost washed that fucking thing? How romantic, LT, making him suck Ghost off in a pub bathroom, hasn't he ever heard of good old-fashioned wooing?

He'd complain, Ghost knows, because he'd want, more than anything, for Ghost to just cut through the bullshit and shove straight down his throat. He'd run his mouth because the only thing he wants Ghost to do is shut him the fuck up, for once, and make him actually work for the praise they both know he's so desperate for.

And Ghost would give it. If Soap earned it. The fight isn't about winning.

This guy isn't putting up a fight. He tries nicely, licks all over the limp-hanging head and pale glans, but Ghost ends up making some excuse—Dad has cancer, Mom died, the usual—and leaving him there still on his knees.

He deletes the apps. He can invest in a fleshlight, and find some porn star another with enough of a resemblance to be functional.

Less of a hassle for everyone involved.

Problem solved.

And then he encounters you again.

You're walking out of the supermarket one night, with two huge bags over your shoulders, digging through your purse out in front of you. He has to stop you with one hand on your shoulder to keep you from running into him.

The evening is warm; your shirt is a thin camisole with little elastic straps. His palm meets your bare skin, and finds it soft and dewy with a little sweat.

You look up, startled, blinking as if caught in a bright light.

"Oh," you say, "Ghost, hello!"

"Bird," he grunts, wondering why he's surprised that you recognize him.

He pulls his hand away, and still feels the imprint of your body heat in its grooves.

"Sorry, I should have been looking," you say, smiling. It's a friendly expression, open and innocent—a daisy's petals spread on a clear day. "Johnny's making beef wellington tonight when he's off duty, so I went and got everything."

Ghost frowns. What kind of boyfriend lets his girl do so much heavy lifting?

He helps you carry the bags to your car. He's jealous, not an asshole. You thank him with a breezy laugh when he closes the hatchback—

"I'm sure Johnny wouldn't mind if you stopped by for dinner," you say, folding your arms across your ribcage. It presses your tits together as you cup your elbows in your hands, pronouncing the line of your cleavage with an uncomfortable eloquence.

"Busy," Ghost says immediately, staring very hard into your eyes. "Thanks."

You shrug, unperturbed. "Anytime. Good night!"

He stands in the carpark for a full five minutes after you drive away. He thinks he can feel his own heartbeat throbbing through the palm he touched you with.

Well, then.

Bereft of any opportunity to get to know you—as if it would even be appropriate—Ghost stalks social media until he finds you through Soap's Instagram. Your account is private, so he sends a follow request, expectations very low that you'd allow someone with a blank sky for a profile picture and only one post on their feed to follow you, "sghostriley" notwithstanding.

But—you do. And suddenly he has a decade of material to peruse, beginning with your last year of secondary school and leading all the way up to present, the most recent photo one of you and Soap at the top of some mountain, grinning at the camera in your hiking gear.

You don't post very many pictures of yourself, he finds. Instead you document interesting food you eat or make, crafts you're working on, nice scenery you caption with variations of "saw this on my walk today :)". It's all very domestic, sweet in a way without being saccharine.

Soft, really. Totally separated from the hard edges of the world he and Soap routinely throw themselves along.

And yet, honest in a way that makes your version of the world feel more like the real one, and his and Soap’s the nightmare.

Ghost hasn't been with a girl—let alone been interested in one—in years. It isn't that the attraction had ever died, exactly. Rather, it simply became so complex, so twisted in on itself and trapped beneath years of grown-over scar tissue, that he'd made an unconscious decision never to confront it. He ignored Price’s stories about his wife’s antics at home, Gaz’s perennial heartbreak after strings of failed dates—

Soap’s lurid bragging about the women he’s taken home from various pubs.

(Were you one of those pub girls?)

So, here it is now, confronting him instead. Reminding him, in a pretty camisole, just how very much it exists.

In the carpark, there’d been a bead of sweat slipping down your neck as you’d waved him goodbye. He finds himself wondering how long it would’ve taken to slide all the way down to the slope of your breast, if he didn’t catch it with his tongue first.

He continues through your Instagram. The majority of your selfies show up, he guesses, after the beginning of your relationship with Soap.

Earlier pictures of you make your discomfort obvious. You don't like the way you look, and it shows in the tension on your face when confronted with a camera lens. But later on, you gain confidence. Your expressions are softer as you show off a new haircut or glasses.

And when the first picture of you with Soap shows up, it's like seeing someone glowing from the inside.

Your head is tucked into the juncture of his shoulder and neck. The smile on your face is soft, small and lovely in how little you're clearly thinking about it.

You're happy.

It floors him. A happy girl, settled into the embrace of a man who’s made her feel that way.

Piece of work, he is. Could ogle another man's ass without shame, but present him with that man’s girl and suddenly it upends his entire sense of self.

Some old cunt psychiatrist would have a field day analyzing him.

Ghost skips the apps and, following in Soap’s footsteps, heads back to the pubs.

It’s worse.

Not that he doesn’t have options sidling up to him, that is. It seems like all he has to do is sit at the bar and wait, and women circle their way into his orbit, not really talking to him but letting him know, simply by hovering, that they’d love for him to talk to them. Batting their lashes, laughing near him seemingly at nothing.

Up to him to make the first move then. It seems to him like the rules haven't changed over his long absence from the dating pool.

Therein lay the snag—Ghost doesn't know how to talk to women. Not that way, the way one says without saying it that he'd like to take her home and bend her over the back of his couch. Say that to a man at the right bar and that was his evening sorted, but Ghost has a feeling that won't play as well among people with cat-shaped brass knuckles on their keychains.

He's not much of a talker, period. Soap yaps enough to fill in his side of the conversation whenever they're in the field. And you...well, he doesn't know about you. Ghost has the uncomfortable feeling that he'd try for you, and fail miserably.

The bartender slides a drink in front of him, distracting him from his agonizing. When Ghost gives him a questioning look, he nods in the direction of a table behind him.

One of the barflies has made the first move.

She winks at him when he raises the glass at her. She’s pretty—her dark makeup makes her eyes look angular and mysterious, and her red dress is tight, thin, and low-cut. Her exposed chest shimmers, as if she dusted some sort of powder across her collarbones before making her way here.

Sparkly and colorful, like a lure on a line. Ready to hook something and pull it in.

(Your camisole had been threadbare and lined with cheap, fraying lace. A favorite of yours, probably, something you wore when you wanted to be comfortable, and didn’t care who thought what about it.)

Ghost notices other men are eyeing the woman, and a couple of them send nasty glares his way. That is, they do before promptly averting their gazes once they see what he looks like.

He can have this, then, if he wants it. He just has to reach out and take it.

He feels your warmth in the palm of his hand again. The breeze of your laugh brushes his cheek with a soft touch.

He sends the woman one of her own drink, drops forty quid on the bar, and leaves without looking back.

Another dinner invite comes his way, this time courtesy of Soap himself.

“She told me she met you at the store,” Soap says, one afternoon when they’re in the changing room. “Really nice of you to help her out, LT.”

“You weren’t there to do it,” Ghost grumbles. Soap has been prancing around shirtless for fifteen minutes, faffing about while Ghost waits for him to leave so he can adjust his erection.

“I didn’t tell her to get everything!” the sergeant protests. “She just went and did it herself.” Then Soap’s eyes go all dreamy and stupid. “She’s grand, isn’t she.”

Ghost grumbles again, something noncommittal.

“Anyway, dinner’s at seven, and I’ll send you the address,” says Soap, pulling a thin t-shirt over his head. Ghosts watches him yank the hem down over his pecs, covering the toned plane of his abs.

Soap winks at him. “See you there, Ghost.”

Ghost grunts.

Soap does, in fact, see him there.

He goes out of resignation. Or maybe with some notion that seeing Soap and you together again will finally vanquish whatever sits on his chest so heavily whenever he thinks of the two of you.

Soap’s the one to answer the door. “There he is, the braw wee bastard!”

“Soap.”

From the looks of it, it’s your flat. It’s nicely decorated without being too over-designed, something warm and comfortable and welcoming. When Ghost steps inside, he’s hit immediately with the smell of seared pancetta and garlic.

The sergeant leads him through the flat. Ghost has a bottle of wine under one arm, having remembered at the last minute he should probably bring something along. You’re in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.

“Hi, Ghost!” you chirp when you look over your shoulder. “Ooh, good, that’s drinks settled. Hope you like bolognese. It’s all I know how to make.”

“S’fine,” Ghost says, which he would say even if bolognese made him violently ill.

“Ach, you can make more than that,” Soap says, retrieving three long-stemmed glasses from a cabinet. “Pour a nice glass of water.”

You snatch the dish towel hanging from the oven handle and give it a snap in the general direction of Soap’s ass. He laughs and dances out of the way.

“There’s a bottle opener in the island drawer, Ghost,” you say cheerfully. You're pretty tonight, in a loose t-shirt and soft-looking joggers. Casual, like you don't have a guest over at all.

Like it's just a night in with your boyfriend.

Ghost pops the cork as Soap sets the glasses down. After he pours, the sergeant delivers a glass to his girlfriend, and there’s a brief moment of quiet as everyone sips and the sauce on the stove bubbles.

It’s all so nice and normal as to make Ghost’s hackles raise just in anticipation, although he knows there’s no reason for it. Truthfully, he almost hadn’t come. The thought of you and Soap, and Soap and you, in the same room, together, a unit, had made his stomach clench up so tight that he though he might not be able to get any food down.

But some part of him needed to come, and see this. Test out Pavlov’s theory, to see if enough negative reinforcement could break him of this borderline manic fixation. If he could associate Soap and you with romantic nausea, and nothing more, maybe he could finally stop jerking off every night to no satisfaction.

Because he had, in fact, found a porn star who looked like Soap. More tattoos, and a buzz cut rather than a mohawk, but Ghost couldn’t be picky.

The real shock had been to find that this proxy often partnered with a girl who looked enough like you to be uncanny. Too skinny, definitely, but in the one video Ghost had watched of them together, he could have sworn, as the lookalike reamed her from behind—

That it was you looking at him over your shoulder.

Looking at Soap. Or, looking at Ghost, behind him.

At that moment in the playback Ghost had come so hard, cock blazing red and raw in his hand, that the notion had liquified a little. So he couldn’t be sure what the thought had originally meant.

He hadn’t been brave enough to watch another.

“This isn’t bad,” Soap says after tasting the wine. “Nothin’ on a good whisky, mind.”

“Don’t neg your lieutenant, Johnny,” you say. “This is good, Ghost, thank you.”

Hearing Johnny fall from your lips so casually threads something uncomfortable between Ghost’s intestines. Uncomfortable, because he likes it.

Had Soap told you to call him that? Or had you decided on it all on your own? Did Soap think of Ghost whenever you said his name? Did he think of you whenever Ghost did?

“Simon’s fine,” he replies.

It escapes him before he even thinks about it. The same way he’d taken his mask off in Las Almas and looked directly at Soap, wondering in some hidden part of himself if the sergeant was impressed.

“That’s a nice name,” you say, swirling the wine in your glass. You take another sip, closing your eyes to savor it, and then, tilting your head like a little bird in thought, you pour a stream of it from the glass into your pasta sauce.

“Suits him, aye?” Soap says, side-eyeing Ghost with amusement. “Right posh name he’s got for a big scary bugger. Hidden depths, him.”

“Yeah, unlike you,” you snark, stirring.

Soap slaps a big hand over his heart. “Ach, lass, you wound me always.”

“Someone has to keep you humble,” you say, grinning. There’s a charming twinkle in your eyes.

“You gonna let ‘er get away with that, sergeant?”

He surprises himself by saying it. But something in the way you and Soap bicker—absent of the usual sugary drivel, as if the two of you have skipped over the honeymoon phase and stuck the landing right into stable commitment—invites him in.

It's magnetic, almost. It seizes the spinning needle in his brain, draws it to a standstill. Evens out the landscape, so he knows where he can go.

“You’re absolutely right, LT,” says Soap, who smacks his lips, sets his wineglass aside, and bum-rushes you.

You shriek as he captures you in both arms, lifting you off the floor and whirling you around—both the spoon in one hand and the glass in the other fling drops of red and white absolutely everywhere. And then you’re giggling as Soap wedges his face between your neck and shoulder and shakes his head like a dog, probably biting down.

Soap growls; a big smile takes over your face, eyes squeezed shut as you laugh breathlessly. The sergeant’s broad, brown forearms have yours pinned up against your chest, pressing your breasts together.

“Not fair, Ghost!” you exclaim as Soap’s growling noises turn into obnoxiously loud kisses. “No pulling rank in my house!”

“Two against one, hen, you’re outnumbered,” Soap counters. “What should we do with this one, eh, LT?”

“See if I ever cook for you two again, is what!” you protest, still grinning with delight. You kick your legs to no effect.

Soap, also grinning, slots his face back into your neck. You giggle again, complaining that it tickles.

Some incomplete circuit finally connects.

Order given. Girlfriend “punished.”

Soap making you laugh because Ghost told him to.

Not one. Not the other. Both.

“Think we can let ‘er off the hook this time,” he says, feeling dazed.

The pictures on your Instagram, with you and Soap together. The both of you, smiling together, wrapped around each other, standing at the top of a mountain and grinning what the two of you get to share.

Soap's hand spread on your back.

“Aye, sir,” Soap says, setting you down. You’re still laughing a little as you go to check the sauce, and Soap finds a towel to clean up the mess he made. Ghost reels in the meanwhile.

There’s an imprint of Soap’s teeth on your neck.

They wouldn’t be there if Ghost hadn’t sicced Soap on you.

He’s still reeling as you begin plating dinner, and Soap sets out the silverware. When everyone sits down to eat, the sergeant tops up everyone’s drinks.

“I hope you like it,” you say to Ghost, setting his plate in front of him. There's a shyness to you, a verity to your concern for his opinion.

“Oh, he will,” Soap says, grinning.

He trails the tips of his fingers along the back of your arm as he directs that jewel-blue gaze at Ghost. It's sharper than Ghost has ever noticed before—

“The LT has good taste. Don’t you, Ghost?”

And with his other hand, he raises his glass to the knowing smirk on his lips.

a/n: I can't use arse, I know it would be more accurate but I just can't I'm sorry

3K notes · View notes

mrspiastri · 3 months ago

Text

✩ bundle of joy 🍼

pairing: lando norris x reader

cw: fluff, pregnancy, giving birth

wc: 3.7k words

an: i got carried away… can you guys tell… 😊

Ever since they found out they were expecting, Lando and Y/N were over the moon. Sure, getting pregnant during his last season in Formula 1 hadn’t been optimal, but he was glad he’d only be missing the first few weeks of her pregnancy.

He kept tabs on her at all times when he travelled, FaceTiming her at least twice a day, asking if she could show him the bump, even after she reminded him that she’d only start showing prominently after the first trimester.

“Are you sure she’s in there? I can’t even tell that you’re pregnant.” Lando commented as Y/N positioned the camera so he could analyse her tummy.

“I’m quite sure. Also, why are you calling the baby a ‘she’? He could be a boy too,” she said.

“Yeah, but I think it’s a girl,” he stated as he munched on an apple.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Father’s intuition, my love.”

He’d been the most supportive partner throughout the pregnancy and even initially refused to let Y/N come to his final race in Abu Dhabi but relented after their doctor assured him she and the baby would be alright.

As soon as he got out of the car, he went straight to her, giving her as bone-crushing a hug as possible without pressing down on her stomach. His fans immediately noticed how careful he was being around her, and on Christmas the couple announced they would be expecting their baby in August of the following year.

As expected, everyone was overjoyed, with fans and friends alike congratulating the couple, leading to an outpouring of love and support. Carlos sent them a care basket, and Max sent them a box of baby clothes with the MV33 motif on them.

Max F and Pietra came over immediately after they announced the news, with the two men almost in tears as they hugged, although they’d never admit it.

🪻🪻🪻

Post-retirement, Lando had found a new hobby: being Y/N’s butler. He made sure to wait on her hand and foot. She can’t remember the last time she walked to the fridge and got herself her own bottle of water or managed to microwave her own leftovers without him ushering her back to the couch.

One plus side was she never had to worry about any of the housework, but she was growing tired of constantly having him follow her around everywhere she went.

Lando’s overprotectiveness only got worse as the weeks went by.

It started with small things. He hovered every time she walked up or down the stairs, practically blocking her with both arms like human guard rails. Then he banned her from standing on any surface higher than a rug. One day, she tried to reach the top shelf for a cereal box, and he appeared out of nowhere like he’d been summoned.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, horrified, taking the box from her hands and setting it gently on the counter like it was fragile cargo.

“Reaching for breakfast?” She deadpanned.

“From a chair, Y/N. A chair.” He said it like she’d tried to climb onto the roof.

“I’m pregnant, not reckless.”

“You’re both,” he muttered under his breath, pressing a kiss to her temple before gently steering her back to the kitchen table. “You sit. I’ll get you a proper breakfast.”

“Proper” turned out to be scrambled eggs, toast, and a side of fruit he’d cut into perfect little cubes. She had to admit it was sweet. A little annoying. But mostly sweet.

By the time her second trimester rolled around, the bump was officially visible, which only made things worse.

He refused to let her carry groceries. Or laundry. Or even her own purse half the time.

“Lando, it’s a tote bag.”

“It has weight. You don’t need the strain.”

“It’s literally lip balm and a phone charger.”

“Strain”, he repeated, sliding the strap off her shoulder. “Reckless”, he added with a playful glare.

She’d started calling him “Coach Norris” because he’d also given himself a new job: personal fitness monitor. He had an app that tracked her water intake, a second app with yoga videos for pregnant women, and a third app he claimed he wasn’t using but definitely was, just to monitor what she was eating.

“Are those pickles?” he asked one night as she pulled a jar from the fridge.

“Yes.”

“Are they pregnancy-safe pickles?”

“Are you hearing yourself?”

He walked over and inspected the label anyway.

Still, despite the hovering, the doting, and the hovering while doting, she knew it all came from a place of love. He was excited. Nervous. And completely in awe of what was happening.

They’d decided early on not to find out the baby’s gender. Lando had gone along with it, even if he still stubbornly referred to the baby as “she” most days.

“I’m telling you, she’s going to come out with your eyes and my curls.”

“You’ll be surprised when he comes out looking exactly like me.”

“Either way, we’re winning,” he said, resting his head on her belly like it was his favourite pillow.

Choosing baby names had taken weeks. They’d written a long list on a whiteboard in the kitchen. Some were sweet, some ridiculous, and a few were just jokes left over from when Carlos came to visit and wrote “Carlos Jr. Jr.” in bold capital letters across the top.

They started keeping a shared note on their phones too, titled Baby Names We (Sort of) Agree On. It started off filled with jokey entries—Lando added “Turbo” and “Seb” just to annoy her—but over time, it became a genuine list of names that felt like theirs. Classic ones, sweet ones, and a few international names to reflect all the places they’d been together.

“I really like ‘Sophia’,” she said one evening, tracing her finger over her bump.

Lando nodded, thoughtful. “Sophia’s nice. Strong, but kind. We could call her Sophie for short.”

Eventually, they narrowed it down to four: two girl names and two boy names. Lando insisted they’d know the right one when they met their baby.

🪻🪻🪻

The baby shower came in June, hosted by Rebecca and Carlos in their sun-drenched backyard. Everything was soft and golden, with wildflowers in mason jars, neutral-coloured decorations, and string lights hung across the trees. The theme was Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and someone had even rented a vintage-style photo booth that Lando and Max monopolised for most of the afternoon.

Lando had insisted on contributing to the party planning—though that mostly meant him panicking about the balloon arch and triple-checking the dessert table.

“Are those cupcakes shaped like onesies?” He whispered, staring in awe.

Y/N nodded, amused. “Yes. Try not to eat them before the guests arrive.”

“Too late,” Oscar mumbled, his mouth already full.

Their loved ones showed up in droves— their parents, siblings, Daniel and Charles, Oscar and Max F, the McLaren crew, and even some of Lando’s old engineers. Everyone signed a guestbook with wishes for the baby, and by the end of the day it was filled with messy handwriting and inside jokes.

During the shower, their friends wrote notes of advice on little cards—some serious, most of them not. Carlos wrote, “Get sleep now. You won’t see it again.” Max wrote, “Teach them to drive early. Like, karting at 4.” Pietra wrote, “Let them be weird. Weird kids are cool adults.”

There were presents, of course—tiny socks and animal-shaped onesies and a miniature McLaren jacket from Andrea that made Y/N emotional for a solid ten minutes.

Y/N sat on a wicker chair surrounded by baby gifts while Lando perched next to her, one arm slung protectively over the back of her seat. Every time she opened something tiny—a onesie, a pair of booties, a soft knitted hat—his face lit up like it was Christmas.

He kept whispering, “Can you believe this is real?” and pressing kisses to her shoulder when no one was looking.

Even Oscar gave a particularly emotional toast halfway through the party, ending it with how their baby was about to be the most loved kid on the planet.

Lando blinked a few times and cleared his throat afterwards, which everyone pretended not to notice.

By the third trimester, Lando had become what Y/N lovingly called “her shadow”. He followed her from room to room, handed her water before she even realised she was thirsty, and insisted on doing literally everything.

“Put that down,” he said one afternoon as she reached for the laundry basket. “It’s just towels, Lando.” “Towels that weigh too much,” he argued. “I’ve got it. Sit down. Hydrate. Breathe.”

She rolled her eyes but gave in, secretly loving how he fussed over her.

At night, he talked to the baby. Sometimes just mumbling nonsense. Other times whispering things he hadn’t told anyone else.

“Hi, little one,” he murmured against her belly one evening. “We’re so ready for you. But maybe don’t come too early, yeah? We’re still figuring out how to swaddle.”

Y/N smiled sleepily, running a hand through his curls. “You’re going to be so annoying when they’re a teenager.”

“I know,” he said proudly.

He installed extra railings in the shower. He banned her from lifting grocery bags, laundry baskets, and at one point, even her own handbag. She’d caught him watching videos on how to swaddle a baby using a towel and then testing it out on one of the throw pillows.

“Lando,” she called from the living room one afternoon. “Why is the throw pillow wearing a diaper?”

“Practice.”

He took to sleeping with a hand on her belly every night, just in case the baby kicked or she needed anything. Sometimes she’d wake up to him whispering to the bump.

“What are you doing?” She mumbled one night around 3 a.m.

“Reading her a bedtime story. She likes The Little Prince.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she said sleepily, curling into him.

“Yeah, unbelievably good at this dad thing,” he whispered back.

🪻🪻🪻

By the time August rolled in, Y/N had fully accepted her role as the Queen of Cushions. Lando refused to let her sit anywhere unless he personally arranged three pillows behind her back, two under her knees, and a blanket on standby in case she got cold.

She was more than ready for the baby to arrive. Her ankles were swollen. Her back ached. She hadn’t seen her toes in weeks.

Lando, however, was still acting like she might fall apart at any second.

“Don’t forget to text me when you wake up,” he told her one morning as he laced up his sneakers.

“I’m already awake, Lando. I’ve been up since 5 a.m. because your kid likes to use my bladder as a trampoline.”

“Still. Just in case. Text me.”

She shook her head, but her heart swelled every time.

Then one night, exactly a day after her due date, it happened. A sharp cramp. Another. And then something that definitely wasn’t just Braxton Hicks.

Lando took a breath, grabbed the hospital bag that had been packed and repacked six times, and helped her into the car.

“You ready?” he asked as he buckled her in.

She met his eyes and squeezed his hand. “I don’t think anyone’s ever really ready for this.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Then let’s go be not ready together.”

The hospital room smelt like disinfectant and bad coffee, and the lights were criminally bright for someone about to push a small human out of her body. Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bed, side-eyeing the monitor that beeped with a little too much enthusiasm.

“This incessant beeping is going to kill me,” she muttered.

Lando stood beside her like he was about to assist in a rocket launch. His hoodie was half-zipped, hair a mess, and his socks were inside out—he hadn’t noticed yet. He’d been pacing, fluffing her pillows, re-checking the hospital bag he’d already checked seven times, and offering her water like a nervous flight attendant.

“Do you want ice chips? More pillows? A foot massage? I can find a doula—do we need a doula?”

“You are the doula,” she said, wincing through a contraction.

“Oh God. We’re doomed.”

By the time the nurse came in to check her dilation, Lando was vibrating with nervous energy. When she announced Y/N was only four centimetres, he slumped dramatically into the chair.

“Four? That’s it? She’s been in labour for years!”

The nurse patted him on the shoulder. “It’s called early labour for a reason, Dad.”

He nodded, like he totally understood, then whispered to Y/N, “I thought babies were faster than this.”

An hour or so later, the contractions were really getting to Y/N, and she tried distracting herself from the pain, at least till she could get an epidural.

“Babe, do you think the baby wants peanut M&Ms or the regular ones?”

“Lando, I’m 6 centimetres dilated over here!”

“Ah, you’re right! Regular it is.”

“Lando!”

Y/N had gone into labour approximately 7 hours ago and was already completely over it. The nurses quickly arrived and administered the drug, and she was now slumped against the hospital bed— slightly relieved, but still very much in labour.

The epidural's kicking in had helped massively, but she was still very uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than to get their baby out of her as soon as possible.

By early morning, she was finally at ten centimetres. The room shifted. More nurses came in. The doctor returned, gloves on, voice calm but firm. Lando moved to her side, gripping her hand like a lifeline.

“Alright, Y/N,” the doctor said, “It’s time to push.”

The next hour blurred. Her body was in motion before her mind could keep up. Pushing, resting, breathing, pushing again. She couldn’t tell if it was minutes or days. Lando was right there the whole time, cheering her on, whispering, “You’ve got this, almost there, so close,” over and over like a prayer.

She nodded, too exhausted to speak. The pain was blinding now, pushing everything else to the edges. She was trembling with effort, tears leaking silently down the sides of her face.

Lando wiped them away. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen anyone be this strong.”

And then—

“There’s the head,” someone said.

Y/N gasped, tears stinging her eyes. Her fingers tightened around Lando’s. She pushed one last time, heart pounding, and suddenly—

The room erupted with the soft cries of an indignant newborn.

A baby. Their baby.

The sound sliced through the air, thin and perfect and real.

Y/N collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing. Lando was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The nurse gently laid her on Y/N’s chest, and the room fell quiet apart from the baby’s cries and Lando’s completely overwhelmed, awe-struck, maybe-about-to-cry breathing.

“She’s here,” Y/N whispered, staring at the little face scrunched up in protest. “We made her.”

“She’s perfect,” Lando said, brushing his fingers over her tiny hand, tears pooling in his eyes. “And loud. She gets that from you.”

The nurse smiled. “Name?”

They exchanged a look. The same look they’d been sharing for weeks.

“Sophia Norris”, Y/N said softly.

Lando repeated it with reverence. “Sophia Cisca Norris”.

Shortly after, the grandparents burst in like a pit crew. Y/N’s mum brought sweets. Lando’s dad brought three types of sandwiches, and his mum cried immediately. Her cries increased in intensity when she heard her granddaughter’s middle name.

The room had quieted, save for the soft coos of baby Sophia tucked against Lando’s bare chest. He sat in the corner chair, cradling her tiny body in his arms, his thumb brushing over her soft head in quiet awe. His eyes were glassy, lost in the rhythm of her breathing, the weight of fatherhood sinking into his bones.

Y/N lay back on the hospital bed, exhausted but glowing, watching them with a kind of love that hurt to fathom.

Her dad stepped beside her, his voice low, familiar. “You did good, sweetheart.”

She blinked up at him, tired tears prickling again. He reached out, smoothing her hair like he had when she was little.

“You’re a mother now,” he said, his voice catching just slightly. “But you’ll always be my girl.”

She let out a soft laugh, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Across the room, Lando rocked gently, whispering to his daughter like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Two fathers. Two daughters. One just beginning, one watching the start of it all.

It was quiet, simple, sacred—a full circle drawn in warm arms and steady hands.

Soon after all the excitement, and with the grandparents going to their house to tidy up for baby Sophia, back in the quiet of the hospital room, the world finally stilled.

Lando wrapped his arms around both of them, resting his head gently against Y/N’s, as she held their daughter in her arms.

“You realise I’m never letting either of you out of my sight again,” he said.

Y/N sighed, her voice soft and tired. “That’s fine. Just don’t run during diaper changes.”

“No promises,” he grinned.

And just like that, their world had changed, and neither of them would have it any other way.

🪻🪻🪻

The sky was soft and grey as they stepped out of the hospital, the kind of cool, peaceful afternoon that made everything feel a little more surreal. Y/N moved slowly, bundled in a cosy cardigan, her steps small and cautious as she walked beside Lando—who, despite being equally exhausted, looked like he was on the verge of both panic and awe.

Cradled carefully in his arms, nestled in the softest cream blanket known to man, was their daughter. Sophia. Or Sophie, as they'd already started calling her every few minutes.

“Okay. We’ve got her. I’ve got her. I am holding my actual daughter. This is fine,” Lando whispered mostly to himself as he walked toward the car with the baby carrier in hand. He looked like a man carrying the crown jewels, walking at half speed, avoiding every pebble like it might trip him and shatter his world.

Y/N smiled as she trailed behind him, watching her husband move with exaggerated caution, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“You doing alright there?” she asked.

“I am. I think. I mean… do I look like I’m about to faint?”

“Yes”, she said sweetly, “but it’s very endearing.”

When they reached the car, Lando placed the carrier gently on the ground and crouched beside it, staring at the car seat like it had personally challenged him to a duel.

“We practised this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Y/N. “I’ve got this. Buckles, straps, clicks. No problem.”

He slowly unbuckled Sophie from the carrier and scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest for a brief moment longer than necessary. She shifted slightly in her sleep, her tiny mouth forming the softest pout, her fingers twitching against his hoodie.

And just like that, his face started to crumble.

Y/N, hovering nearby, immediately noticed. “Lando… are you crying?”

He sniffled aggressively. “No.”

“You are. Oh my God. Are you actually crying again?”

“Don’t—don’t mock me!” He choked out, even as a tear slid straight down his cheek. “She just—look at her! She’s so small and soft and warm, and she made that little snuffle noise—Did you hear it?!"

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “I did. It was very cute.”

“She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said, his voice catching as he tucked her into the car seat with trembling hands. “And she made a little squeak, and it felt like my heart exploded.”

He pulled back and wiped his cheeks, visibly overwhelmed. “I’m not okay.”

Y/N knelt beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re very much not okay. But you’re also very cute. Keep going; I might cry too.”

“You’re not crying.”

“I’m trying not to laugh.”

Lando groaned, cheeks red, eyes still watery. “This is my most embarrassing moment, and we’re not even home yet.”

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s kind of hot, actually. The emotional dad thing? Very attractive.”

He glared at her half-heartedly. “Don’t weaponise my emotions against me.”

“I would never. But also… you cried over her sighing.”

“She sighed like a poet,” he whispered, placing a hand over his chest. “Like she’s already wiser than both of us.”

Y/N laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Alright, Plato, let’s get this poet home.”

He finally managed to start the car, gripping the wheel like it was made of glass. Every bump in the road earned a panicked glance at the baby mirror, even though Sophie remained fast asleep, tucked up like a little loaf of heaven.

Halfway home, Lando reached over and grabbed Y/N’s hand without looking, still sniffling slightly.

“Hey,” he said softly. “We did it.”

“We did,” she smiled, gently squeezing his hand. “And you only cried four times.”

“Four and a half,” he corrected.

When they pulled into the driveway, Lando exhaled so dramatically it made Y/N laugh again. He rushed to the back seat, unbuckling Sophie with all the care in the world, then held her against him once more before they stepped inside.

In their bedroom, after the bags were dropped and the grandparents had been told (again) that they were home safe, Lando sat on the edge of the bed with Sophie curled up against his bare chest for skin-to-skin time.

Y/N stood nearby, watching the two of them like her heart might burst. Sophie was barely bigger than Lando’s forearm, her little head tucked beneath his chin, her hand twitching slightly in her sleep.

He didn’t say a word—just stared down at her with wide, teary eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, syncing with hers like she’d always belonged there.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger already,” Y/N murmured.

“I know,” Lando said, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m never getting out.”

Y/N crawled into bed beside them and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Good. I kind of like you both like this.”

He looked over at her, cheeks still damp, and smiled the kind of smile that only came once in a lifetime.

“We’re home,” he whispered.

And they were.

i was kicking my legs in the air as i wrote this. also im working on a few reqs sent to me, i have about three oscar ones. thanks for being so patient 🫶🏻

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 #f1 fluff #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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szatears · 2 months ago

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fashion killa, modernau!stack.

summary: as your man, stack knows his role — give you all you want and make sure you're happy.

parings: modernau!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: mentions of sex, established but not specified relationship, descriptions of reader.

notes: short fic based off of this!

"You got your bag, baby?" Stack called from downstairs, sending a quick text back to Smoke. The two of you were in Miami running a few of Stack's errands, and he brought you along for a little getaway from your busy schedule.

"Yeah, give me a sec." You did not, in fact, have your bag, which is why Stack smiled when he heard your footsteps retreat back to the shared bedroom of the villa, finding it on the bed.

Your sandals hit the floor with soft clacks every time you took a step, and you got hit with that feeling of being on holiday, at peace with the world for a period of time.

He glanced up and pocketed his phone when he saw you come down, his eyes shamelessly eyeing up and down your body.

You wore a beige tube top that complimented your skin perfectly, hugging your body in the right places. You paired it with a brown denim mini skirt, your legs on full show, something Stack was down bad for. You chose a honey blonde dyed wig for today, curls neatly styled in.

He let out a whistle as you approached him, twirling you around by your hips. "Who you lookin' this good for?"

"Myself," you winked as you checked yourself out in the mirror.

"I know that's right."

Stack took your bag in one of his hands, the other reaching for yours as he opened the door, leading you to the car.

Ever the gentleman, he opened your door for you, placing your bag on your lap. Just as he was about to head to the driver's side of the cat, you held onto his bicep, prompting him to turn back to you.

"Wassup?" he tilted his head, smiling when you puckered your glossed lips. He bent down to kiss them, his free hand subconsciously sliding up to your throat. He pecked your lips three more times before he pulled away, heading to his side.

"Where are we going today?" you asked as you opened the camera app on your phone, checking your hair and makeup whilst taking some pictures.

Stack pulled out of the villa's designated parking spot, his hand around your headrest as he reversed. "To Bailey's. Smoke said he got something for us. Then we can go do whatever you want."

Bailey was a common name that you'd learnt since getting with Stack. He was one of the twins' closest friends and partner, so you were used to seeing him.

"Whatever I want?" you smirked, looking up at Stack. He looked back down at you with the same expression, nodding his head.

Music accompanied your conversation with him as he drove through the blazing heat, the breeze barely touching you even with the windows down.

Soon enough, Stack parked the car in a spot in a building complex, one you've never seen before. "Give me a second, mama," he kissed your cheek as he undid his seatbelt, leaving the car. You watched as he crossed over to the office in the parking lot, talking to the man behind the glass window.

Shortly he came back, leaning his arm above your door. "You wan' come up with me or you're good here?" He asked.

"It's okay, the air's cool down here, I'll wait for you."

Stack looked around for a moment, his eyes squinting slightly like they did whenever he was on edge. "Nah," he shook his head, opening your door and undoing your seatbelt. "I'on like leaving you alone."

See? Ever the gentleman.

You wrapped your arm through his, your handing resting firmly on his exposed bicep as he walked you through the building with familiarity.

"'Sup, J?" he dapped someone up as you walked through the double glass doors of the complex, heading for the elevator. Once in, he pressed the button for the sixth floor, standing behind you as the doors closed.

You faced the mirror on the wall of the elevator as Stack faced the doors, like he usually did when you were out together. His arm held the front of your waist as you snapped pictures til the door opened.

Stepping out, he turned to you, holding your hand in his. "We won't be too long, baby. Just gotta pick some shit up."

You nodded, happy to even be in his presence.

Once you entered an office like room, he led you to a couch just outside another set of doors. "Sit here, I'll be back in a bit. Don't talk to anyone." He adjusted his belt slightly, the piece he held peeking through his waistband.

"I won't," you rolled your eyes. Stack always thought you had a tendency to be too friendly, and that it led to a lot of problems most of the times.

"I mean it. If someone looks at you, look the other way. I can't keep letting off bullets in people's places."

You laughed as he walked away, remembering the time he let off almost a whole round in a diner because the waiter kept flirting with you, though you merely saw it as 'holding conversation'.

He was back within the next twenty minutes, a small briefcase and white envelope in his hand. "Aight, let's go baby."

Back in the car, Stack put the briefcase in the backseat. He opened the envelope once he did his seatbelt. revealing a lot of cash.

"Here," he handed it all to you after counting it.

"Huh?" you frowned, seeing that it was at least $50,000 in there. "Why are you giving me this?"

"'Cause you look pretty today," he shrugged like it was nothing, opening up your purse and shoving the stacks of money in it.

"Elias," you smiled. "You don't need to keep giving me money. Especially not for reasons like that."

"Girl, I can do what I want," he sassed back, kissing your lips before backing out of the driving spot.

He spoiled you in so many ways, it never failed to bring a smile to your face. Besides, this wasn't his first time doing it anyways. The other night after an intense session of love-making, he emptied the pockets of the joggers he wore that day, handing you about four bands, telling you to "go buy something nice."

He drove with his hand on your bare thigh, humming along to the Tupac songs playing on the radio. Your arm rested on his shoulders, manicured nails scratching gently at the nape of his neck.

"You keep doing that and I'ma park this car, right now," he glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I mean," you shrugged. "You said we could do whatever I want when you're done."

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten @christinabae @junkie05 @gyattttsblog @jackierose902109 @rose-bliss @jexireads @queenofklonnie22 @tatertooted

#stack x black reader #stack x reader #modernau!stack x reader #michael b jordan x black reader #michael b jordan x reader #sinners fanfiction

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taeghi · 1 year ago

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let's collab | (m)

⇰ summary : you've always vied for the top spot on onlyfans but "hluvsbabes" makes it tough with his undeniable charm and looks. when you unexpectedly meet him you realize he's even more captivating up close. despite the competition, you find yourself unable to turn down his one request.

⇰ pairing : camboy!heeseung x camgirl!y/n

⇰ genre : smut!! masturbation, vibrators lol, dirty talk, oral, throat fucking, unprotected sex, degrading, praise, sir kink, spanking, brief spitting and hair pulling lol.

⇰ word count : 10k (8k of it is just pure, filthy smut) !!!

⇰ taglist : @criminalyun @princeseung @seokseokjinkim @loveydoveyhee @immelissaaa @iselltulips @strxwbloody @ensaz008 @loavibeycipoosan @liwugy @starfallia @you-make-skz-stay @ineedsomezzz @heeshlove @niniissus @mirramirra @skzenhalove @fandom-freak-geek @lilifiedeans @woahhhhaw @cchangli @enhabooks @heelovesmeknot @fakeuwus @soobinsnovia101 @river-demon-slayer @jjklvr9 @hanjisunginc @iamliacamila @jaylaxies

mdni

you started ‘darlingdove01’ when you needed some extra cash in your second year of college. at first you didn’t show your face at all and you were nervous that someone you knew was going to find out. godforbid your parents found out about your sex work.

over time, you started to get more comfortable in front of the camera and started to show your face. though you never said your real name. you had started to get a close following and were at the top of the creators of the week every week. the way it worked was that the longer you were number one, the more increase of pay you got. though, you had never been number 1 for more than one week at a time.

all thanks to hluvsbabes.

it seemed that every week you and hluvsbabes would alternate who was number one. no matter what new things you tried to increase your audience and views, the next week you were back at number two.

the day that you were fed up with always being put back to second was the day that you would very soon regret.

you were lazily scrolling through the app when you noticed hluvsbabes had just started streaming, so, you clicked onto the livestream.

and there he was. hluvsbabes shirtless with his hard cock pulled out of his pants and sitting in between his fist. his pale skin gleamed against his computer screen light, showing off his abs. he had a black mask covering the lower part of his face. his bangs fell into his squinted eyes as he casually pumped his cock up and down in his fist.

you couldn’t stop your jaw from going slack as you took in the sight before you. you could tell his mouth was in a playful smirk as he watched the comments fly. suddenly a tip of 20$ flew in the corner of the screen : “take ur pants off pls”.

you could hear his dark chuckle through your speakers, “mmm, only because you said please.”

you watched him do as the viewer asks. he dug his thumbs into his pants and boxers and pulled them down to reveal his pale legs that matched the rest of his body.

he seemed so confident and casual as he sat in his chair fully nude, as if 8,000 people weren’t watching him right now.

“is that better for you?” his voice asked with a tone of amusement. you watched him laugh as all the comments immediately filled with variations of “yes”. “what else do you want me to do? tell me.” the comments were instantly filled with nasty things that you have to admit you also wanted him to do.

you had figured hluvsbabes was hot since he was always top one or two, but you didn’t think he would look like this. and that his voice would be so seductive.

“i won’t be taking off my mask, guys.” hluvsbabes shakes his head with a chuckle, he’s just so amused with his fans. along with his fans you also wished he took off his mask. you would love to see the mouth that formed such seductive words.

suddenly, a tip came up in the corner of the screen of 100$, “start jerking ur cock, baby”. your jaw dropped at the amount of the tip. you had only ever received 100$ worth a few times in the past two years. hluvsbabes didn’t even seem that shocked by the amount as he did as he was told.

his hand started to move faster up and down his hard cock. the tip of his cock looked so red and swollen in the light of his computer screen.

“will you spit on it for me, baby?” hluvsbabes whines out and you instantly shut your legs together.

the comments are gradually picking up pace, commenting demands and praises, asking questions for him to answer. you can hear his deep grunts through your speakers as he keeps his bang covered eyes on the comments.

a 15$ tip pops up in the corner again; “tell me i’m ur good girl pls”.

hluvsbabes amusingly shakes his head, “of course you're my good girl. do you have your fingers in your panties? how wet are you? tell me how wet you are, good girl.”

you’re in shock from his words, the comments, the amount of tips and from how hot hluvsbabes is.

his deep laugh distracts you from your thoughts. he throws his head back on the chair’s headrest, making his bangs reveal his forehead. even with his mask on, you can tell that his mouth is open agape from the pleasure he’s feeling.

“fuck, guys. i’ve been thinking about this– about you all day. my dick has been hard since my morning class.”

the thought of him having to walk around with a hard cock all day because he thought of getting off in front of thousands of people only turns you on more. he continues to move his hand up and down his cock, his grunts getting louder and louder.

“i-i’m getting close. i wish you were here to taste my cum, shit.”

it was getting to the point where you couldn’t ignore the tingly feeling starting to increasingly grow in the pit of your stomach. you felt entranced by him, not being able to take your eyes off of your screen. you had only planned to watch a couple of minutes just to see what the hype was about, but now you’ve been watching him for close to twenty minutes. you lean onto your desk uncaringly over your keyboard and your heart stops when you see :

darlingdove01 : ghj

your eyes widen at your username in the comment section, praying to god none of his 15k viewers notices.

“oh, darlingdove is in here,” hluvsbabes’s voice speaks suddenly, making you jolt away from your computer screen and grab the handles of your chair. he tilts his head and looks directly into the camera as he continues, “how are you, darling? do you like the show? do you like watching me get off?”

you are in shock and you can’t think of what to do. you never thought you would be in a situation like this. you notice all the comments start filling up with your name as hluvsbabes is still stroking his cock and groaning.

“maybe she’s too busy with her hands to type right now.” hluvsbabes jokes in a grunted laugh. you cover your mouth with your hands in shock. and you read one comment that says “who can blame her?”.

and with that, you immediately leave the one and only hluvsbabes livestream you have ever watched, the embarrassment being almost too much.

a few days and a lot of thoughts of hluvsbabes later, you know you have to get back to livestreaming. you had planned a few things for your next live stream despite being busy with college and being distracted by the memories of hluvsbabes.

the way ‘darling’ slipped from his mouth so casually and sensual.

usually, people only referred to you as ‘dove’. you didn’t anticipate for darling to be so efficacious. but maybe it was only because hluvsbabes had said it. the way it sounded in his smooth, mischievous tone. it kept you up at night.

tonight, you had to live stream on your account.

you started at your usual time; 10pm, in your usual setting; your bedroom. your nightside lamp was lit behind you, being your only source of light besides your computer screen. your body was covered by an oversized hoodie which covered your panties and the top of your bare thighs.

“hi everyone,” you spoke into your microphone, looking at the rising amount of viewers on your live stream. the comments started piling in, regular questions about yourself mixed with sexual ones that made you laugh to yourself. “my week was good, thank you. how has your week been, guys?”

you read some of the comments, recognizing some of the usernames that comment. and when you notice a steady amount of viewers and when the comments start teasing you and begging you to start, you begin.

“tonight,” you start, and sit back in your computer chair, “i think i’ll have some fun with my new toy.” you reach out of the camera’s view and grab the toy you had bought earlier in the week. it was a long, white vibrator. you take your time to show the camera the entire toy, smiling proud of it. “what should we name him?” you giggle out, reading the comments as they flood with names and praises and begging.

you sit back in your chair, “he has three settings, should i start with the lowest? see how wet he can get me?” you ask, your voice teasing. tips start to come in, telling you to turn it on, telling you that they want to see you cum.

with a flick of your thumb you turn it onto the lowest setting. a low buzzing sound fills your bedroom, entering the mic for your audience to hear. you lift your feet so they rest on the chair, your knees up in the air. your hoodie bunches at your waist for your panties and bare legs to be revealed. you press the vibrator against your clit over top of your panties, testing it.

“oh god,” you moan, “even the lowest setting is good.” you inform your audience, keeping your eyes on the camera and comments. you giggle when you read a tip that tells you to move it in circles. “want me to move it? want to watch me pleasure myself?” the comments flood with yes’s.

you start to move the vibrator in slow, small circles around your clit. wanting to tease yourself and the audience for as long as possible. you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. the feeling of the vibrator against your pulsing clit and the eyes of hundreds of people watching you in real time.

a tip catches your eye;

heesacc tipped 50$! : that looks like it feels good, darling. why don’t you move up a setting.

your eyes linger on the word darling and the large tip they gave you.

“okay, let’s put it up to the medium setting.” you agree, your finger flicking the button up. the buzzing becomes louder as the toy starts moving faster. your hand still moves the vibrator in slow, small circles over your panties. “fuck, this is even better, baby.”

you read comments that compliment you, that tell you they wanna see you cum right now, that you should remove your clothes.

“want me to take my clothes off?” you tease the camera, your free hand playing with hem of your oversized sweater. “tell me what you want me to take off.” the comments tell you that they want you naked, that your sweater should come off, that everything should come off.

heesacc tipped 50$! : take your sweater off and play with your tits, darling. rub your nipples and pretend it’s me.

“wanna see my tits? wanna see me play with them just for you?” you bite your lip at the tip, but do as they said, putting down the vibrator for a second as you pull the sweater off your core. your breasts being revealed to the audience. you look at yourself in the mirror, noticing the large wet stain on your panties from your juices and the vibrator. “oh my god, look wet i am.” you wiggle so your panties can be seen better on camera. the large wet stain evident in the computer screen’s light. “this is how good you make me feel.”

you read the comments that say they wish they were there beside you, that they want to rip your panties off.

you pick up the vibrator again, still on the medium setting. your one hand holds the vibrator steady against your covered clit, as your free hand comes up and starts to tweak your nipples. your forefinger and thumb hook your nipple, rolling it. you let out moans at the feeling, your back arching off your chair naturally.

“fuck, i love playing with my nipples, it turns me on so much.” you state honestly, switching between nipples with your fingers.

heesacc tipped 70$! : let’s see how swollen your pretty pussy is, darling.

you gulped as you read the tip come through. just reading the words sent a shiver straight to your core. you swore your pussy got so much wetter as you finished reading it.

you set the vibrator down again, “you wanna see my pussy, baby? wanna see how wet and swollen you got it?” you tease the camera, your hand dragging across your panties. with the multiple “yes”’s commenting, you start to slowly slide your panties off your legs, showing the camera the larger wet stain on them.

you lean back in your chair again, the same position with your feet on the chair and knees up, but this time your pussy was visible to the camera. your hand glides down between your legs. you keep your eyes on the camera as your fingers slide through your lips so easily. you whine when your fingers rub over your sensitive clit. “i’m so wet, fuck. you could slip right in. stretch out my tight pussy. god, i need that so bad. need to be stretched out.”

you reach for the vibrator again, “let’s see how long i can last on the high setting. i’m so close already.” you giggle out to your audience.

you turn the vibrator to the highest setting, the toy buzzing in your hand as you bring it to your bare pussy. instantly you throw your head back, crying out at the pleasure. your other hand massaging your breast.

heesacc tipped 100$! : cum like a good girl, darling.

“oh god!” your eyebrows pull together from the pleasure. your knees start to buckle as the pleasure starts to take over you. “i’m gonna cum! fuck, i’m cumming.” you nod your head and try to keep your eyes on the camera as you hit your high. your bare chest heaves as your orgasm washes through your body, struggling to keep the vibrator on your clit from oversensitivity.

when your head clears and your body relaxes, you manage to say goodbye to your audience, that you’ll see them again next time. you end the livestream, your eyes reading the tips, resting on the username ‘heesacc’. you had never seen them before, but they tip generously throughout the entire livestream.

and they kept calling you darling.

you always had to get coffee before class. but your usual coffee shop had a line out the door today, so you had to go to one on campus that you’ve never been to before. though you knew you’d probably be late to class now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sit through the two hour lecture without your daily coffee.

you’re distracted by the menu of unfamiliar drinks that you don’t hear the barista question if you’re ready to order until the third time he says it.

“oh sorry,” you tell him, shaking your head to wake up, “uh, could i get the blonde vanilla latte, please?” you tell the barista. you start to dig through your backpack for some money.

“darlingdove01?” his voice questions, recognition definite in his voice.

your head snaps up to look at the barista properly for the first time. your username making your ears and cheeks paint red. “uhh, yeah!” you’ve only been recognized in public a few times, and they’ve usually been at parties or get together, never in a public public place before.

the barista has dark brown hair that’s covering his forehead. his eyes are big, doe-like and expressive. his features are sharp and delicate at the same time. his complexion is so smooth in the harsh coffee shop lights. “oh, cool.” his voice is smooth as he shrugs, almost impressed. “that’ll be 5.49$, please.”

so shocked, you scramble to pile some change on the counter, dropping it for him to pick it up. you smile with a faint nod before you walk away for the next person behind you to order.

you take deep breaths as you wait for your order, telling yourself that it’s okay, that that could’ve gone a lot worse. you weren’t used to people looking at you in public, that’s why you chose to stay behind a screen.

“blonde vanilla latte!” the barista calls out a few minutes later. you go up and take the cup from him. “have a good day.” he’s polite, and his eyes tell you something that you don’t quite pick up.

you turn away from the counter, ready to get the hell out of his coffee shop. you glance down at your drink, noticing words written in black on the side.

let’s collab, hluvsbabes

with his number written underneath. you turn your head to look back at the barista, but find a woman working the cashier instead. the brown haired boy disappeared from sight. you think back from the one and only hluvsbabes stream you had seen of his. he had kept his bangs over his eyes, hiding how doe-eyed they really were. his mask covered the entirety of his lower face. there was no way to know if the barista was really the hluvsbabes, but his eyes seemed to tell you that he was. that he knew who you were, too.

your fingers hover over your phone’s keyboard. the apparent hluvsbabes’s phone number typed in above, but the message box left empty. you decide to bite the bullet, even if it wasn’t him, all you had to do was block him after and then act like this never, ever happened.

youhi, uh hluvsbabes?

only a few minutes pass before you get a response.

(123) - ***-**** hahaha yeah but you can call me heeseung

(123) - ***-****

hi, darlingdove01!

you

how’d you know it’s me? my name’s y/n btw

heeseung

bc you’re the only one i’ve given my number out to lately

heeseung

and bc i knew you’d text me sooner rather than later ;)

you smile, rolling over onto your back, your phone in the air as you text hluvs- heeseung back.

you

damn, i knew i should’ve waited a month

heeseung

noooo i’m glad you texted me

heeseung

i wanted you to text me

you

righttt, you said something about a collab?

heeseung

yeahh, i think you should come over sometime soon

you could hear your heart strumming against your chest at his text. the hluvsbabes wanted to collab with you. you had only been competing against each other on onlyfans for months. and neither of you had done a collab before, solely solo stuff. you wondered if it’d be a good idea or not.

heeseung

c’mon, you know i can make you feel good ;)

you were leaning towards it being a good one.

later in the week you found yourself outside of hluvsbabes apparent apartment. he had only lived a quick bus ride away from you, both of you living close to your university campus. you were biting your fresh manicure the whole bus ride there.

heeseung had texted you to make sure you knew he wasn’t expecting anything from you. that he just wanted to get to know you, and hey, if a collab happened then it happened!

though he was very polite and tried his best to reassure you and make you comfortable, you were still nervous to go to a guy’s house that you had seen masturbate before. you had heard what he sounds like when he masturbates. you had thought about his voice and his moans so many times since the “incident”. you were going to a boy’s house that you had cursed at so many times when you saw that he had passed you yet again in subscribers every few weeks.

you knock on the apartment number’s door that he had given you. you waited a few quick heartbeats until the door opened.

there stood the barista you had seen a few days ago. his doe-eyes the same and his long bangs covering his forehead.

“y/n?” he spoke, a smile on his lips that made him seem even prettier than you remembered.

you tried to picture what hluvsbabes would look like so many times, and now that you finally got a chance to see him, standing in front of you, letting you in his apartment, you were in shock.

he was so much hotter than you could have ever imagined– now that you weren’t embarrassed in public when someone said your username outloud.

“wanna come in or stand in the hall all day?” he spoke again, his eyebrow propped up.

“oh!” you jolted, “sorry, sorry– i’ll come in.” you tell him, smiling at him as he held the door for you and closed once you were in.

a quick glance around the apartment and you noticed how clean and home-y it looked. a regular couch, coffee table and tv took up one side of the apartment. and on the other side was a small island in the small kitchen. there was a hall on the far side of the room from you– which you figured led to his bedroom. (the room where he masturbates online for money– oh god!)

“you can sit down on the couch if you want,” heeseung gestures to the couch, wiping his sweaty palms on his gray sweatpants, “do you want a drink or anything?”

“uh no, i’m good thanks,” you reply, sitting down on the couch, your hands clasping together in your lap.

as he sits down beside you on the couch, you think about how after you had texted him the other day you had seen he was live on onlyfans– and how you made sure to not press it. the thought of him seeing you watching his livestream again made you physically cringe.

“so uh,” heeseung starts, a casual smile on his face as he looks at you, “have you thought? about my offer? about the collab?”

you nod, “i have,”

“right, well, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want– like i said. we can just hang out– i just saw you and i needed to give you my number i couldn’t just–,”

“i wanna do it.”

heeseung’s eyes widen at your answer, “really? only if you’re comfortable.”

you nod, “yeah, i want to.”

heeseung’s body relaxes at your words, “okay, when?”

“right now?” you shrug at him, “i mean you usually stream soon anyways, right?”

heeseung thought his mind was gonna explode. the hot girl that he’s competed with for top creator was sitting in front of him on his couch, telling him that she wants to collab with him. she could collab with anyone, but she wanted to collab with him. he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“o-kay,” heeseung stutters and clears his throat, “uh, is there anything you're specifically into– or not into? i mean i’ve seen your streams so i know some things but i-,”

“you’ve seen my streams?” you ask him confused and intrigued.

heeseung fights the urge to slap himself, “i mean, yeah. you’re always top creator right?”

“right, i just didn’t think that you’d watch them, i don’t know.”

“why wouldn’t i watch them? you’re hot and you know how to engage with the audience.” heeseung admits honestly.

you squirm at his compliment. “you’re hot, too.”

heeseung seemingly relaxes completely at this, finally being able to comprehend what’s happening and what you’re thinking. “thank you, i mean i know you’ve seen my streams before, you commented once.”

you cover your face with your hands, “oh god.” you groan out.

heeseung laughs at you, “what? is it bad that you’ve watched me masturbate?”

“no!” you shake your head quickly, eyes wide, “it’s just– i didn’t mean to comment that time– i didn’t even mean to press it! it’s just, just…”

“i’m just that hot?” heeseung teases you, wiggling his eyebrows.

“oh my god, shut up!” you laugh, shoving his shoulder. it’s then that you realize how close you’ve gotten on his couch.

heeseung laughs harder, his face turning serious again when he speaks, “okay but seriously, anything you are or aren’t into?”

you settle into your spot on the couch and think, “uh, i think i’m okay with anything.” you shrug, “but no anal though. and i’m more into, it being rough.”

heeseung smirks and asks, “okay no anal. how about choking?” you nod in response, “slapping?” another nod from you, “how about degrading?” you blush and nod.

“i’m okay with everything but anal, heeseung.”

“okay, and if you wanna stop, should we come up with a safe word?”

you ponder for a second and think, “how about, latte?”

heeseung smirks at you, “latte it is, then.”

both of you stare at each other, lust and playfulness filling your expressions. somehow, your faces are only mere inches apart now as both of you take in the other’s features. you had only seen each other through a computer screen before. had only read each other's usernames on the top creators list– without even knowing your real names. and now you were about to give each other everything– including your first collab.

your breath quiets as you look into heeseung’s eyes, scanning the brown in them before glancing down at his pretty lips. your lips are just centimeters away from his when he speaks again, “let’s start.”

heeseung grabs your hand and pulls you up, guiding you down the hall and into his bedroom. he leans over his computer, setting up his account and livestream. you take the time to look around his room.

his room is definitely the same one you’ve seen on live steam. the multiple monitors on his computer desk. a basic bed with a black and white comforter. and you recognized the few posters on his walls that he allowed to be seen in his lives.

“okay, it’s ready.” heeseung tells you, “are you sure you wanna do this? we can stop whene–”

“i’m sure, heeseung.”

“okay, i’ll press start live then,”

“wait!” you reach for his shoulder, “what about your mask?” you know he’s never gone live without his mask– it’s the one thing that helps keep his identity unknown.

heeseung simply shrugs at you, “i mean, i can’t really eat you out with a mask on, can i?”

your mouth drops open, but before you can say anything, the camera light flicks on, signaling that you’re live. the camera is pointed towards heeseung’s bed behind you as heeseung ushers you to sit on his usual gaming chair, he stands beside it.

“hi guys,” heeseung says cooly to the camera. he lowly chuckles to himself as the comments start pouring in. there seems to be hundreds of comments in a second about “darlingdove01” and heeseung’s face. a lot of the comments are talking about how hot heeseung is and that they “always knew he’d be hot!”.

“today we have a very special guest, darlingdove01 is here,” heeseung gestures to you. you wave at the camera, watching the viewer numbers grow higher and higher as the introduction continues. “and she told me that she likes anything… but anal.”

“hey!” you shove him playfully with your shoulder.

he only chuckles before continuing, resting his arm over the back of his gaming chair behind your head, “so today, i’m gonna do anything to please her.” he takes his other hand and cups your chin so you’re forced to look at him, “does that sound alright, darling?”

“yes,” you tell him, watching his warm brown eyes turn darker as you make eye contact. you can tell he’s no longer heeseung, but instead he’s “hluvsbabes”.

“yes what?”

“yes, sir.”

“good girl,” heeseung leans down and presses his lips onto yours. you don’t have time to register that you are kissing the hluvsbabes. his lips are soft against yours, but their movements are deep and rough. just from the kiss you can tell what direction this live stream is going in. he pulls away too soon for your liking, “pull up your shirt.”

your hands reach for the bottom hem of your shirt and lift them so your bare breasts are visible to heeseung and the audience.

“fuck,” heeseung groans, his hands cupping both of them. both of you mentally note how perfectly they fit in his warm hands. he turns to the camera, “doesn’t she have the most beautiful tits?”

heeseung starts to tweak both your nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers. your hand flies to grip the handle of the chair, your back arches into his touch.

“that feel good?” he asks you with a smirk, obviously amused by your reaction.

“yes, sir. they’re sensitive,” you admit.

“are they?” heeseung tilts his head, “keep playing with them, then.”

your hands replace heeseung’s. your hands are definitely not as big and as warm as heeseung’s. but you massage your breasts, your fingers playing with your nipples like he told you to.

meanwhile, heeseung starts to kiss down your revealed torso, his hands unzipping and pulling down your shorts so fast. you watch him get down on his knees in between your legs, his hot breath against your panties. heeseung groans once he’s eye level with your core and can see the faint wet strip on them. he could always see how wet you were on livestream, but now he gets to see in person.

“i wanna make you feel good,” heeseung says against your skin, pressing kisses on your inner thighs, your legs spread wide for the camera to see. “are you gonna do whatever i say?”

“yes, sir.” you nod down at him, watching his tongue lick his lips so close to your pussy. ‘i wanna be your slut.”

heeseung chuckles against your skin, his fingers slip inside your panties as he speaks, “let me feel my slut’s pussy then.”

you take a deep breath as his fingers start to massage your clit, exploring your pussy for the first time. he’s thought about his fingers touching you so many times before. he could hardly believe that you were actually in front of him right now.

“you want me to taste your pussy, darling?”

“please,” your voice sounds so breathy when you speak again, his fingers pressing hard.

“ask me to.”

“please taste my pussy, sir.”

with that heeseung slides his middle finger into your core. it feels so long as it reaches right to your g spot immediately, as if he knew it’d be there. your jaw drops open as he pushes his finger in and out. a whine leaving your mouth as you start to move your hips to meet his finger. his palm is massaging your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of your core.

heeseung then pulls his finger out of you, “take off your panties, show everyone your pussy.” heeseung leans more to the side as you do what he says. your panties drop to the floor and your legs are on either side of his gaming chair. “fuck, doesn’t she have the most perfect pussy, everyone?” heeseung is staring at the camera as he massages your thighs.

heeseung’s lips meet your core before you can comprehend. he’s making out with your clit, the sloppy sounds fill your ears and the audience’s as he sucks your clit into his mouth. he reaches his finger up to slide into your core again, so easily.

“my finger barely fits in there,” heeseung smirks.

his mouth continues to lick and suck on every part of your pussy. his tongue circles your clit in his mouth. your hand is gripping the chair arm as you watch him, unable to contain your moans.

“fuck yes, sir.” you cry out, throwing your head back from pleasure. you don’t think anyone has been able to make you feel this good with their mouth before. your ex’s could never make you cum at all.

heeseung is moaning against your core, letting you and the audience know that he is also enjoying this, “god this pussy tastes so good, tastes better than i’d ever imagined before.” your stomach tightens at his words, feeling high on the pleasure heeseung’s mouth and fingers is giving you so easily and the audience watching you both. “keep playing with those tits, darling.”

your hands fly up to your sensitive nipples, almost forgotten by how pretty heeseung looks while he makes out with your pussy. your body’s whole senses are heightened. heeseung can start to feel you clench around his fingers as your hips start to buck up to his mouth, wanting more of him.

“fuck that feels so good.” you whine out, your eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure.

“are you gonna cum?” heeseung asks lowly. he watches you nod at him, unable to form words.

then, heeseung rips away from you. his mouth and finger gone and before you can realize, he’s standing again beside you. his hand wrapped around your neck gently– forcing you to look at him with your legs spread.

“you have to ask for permission if you want to cum,” heeseung’s voice is stern as he looks you in the eyes, “understand?”

“yes, sir.”

heeseung’s smile returns as his hand leaves your neck, “here, taste yourself.” your mouth opens for heeseung to slide his finger inside your mouth. your lips close around his finger, sucking it into your mouth as your tongue swirls around it, wanting to taste yourself. “good girl.” heeseung removes his finger, and instead presses a kiss to your lips, softly, passionately, as if to check in on you. but you’re so hungry for an orgasm that you really would do anything right now. “are you ready to make me feel good?”

“yes, sir.”

“get on your knees.”

you sit up, closing your legs for the first time and feeling how wet your inner thighs were. heeseung pushes his chair to the side as he stands, looking down at you as you kneel before him. “you wanna suck my cock?” heeseung questions you, noticing how you tighten your thighs at his question. his hand slides down on your chin for you to look up at him. you nod in response to him. “ask me.”

“can i suck your cock, sir?”

“good girl, take it out.”

your hands work to unbutton his pants, pulling them down to his upper thigh to release his cock. you just have to stop and marvel at it. there in front of you is hluvsbabes huge cock that you had thought about stretching you out for weeks. it’s much bigger in person you think. it’s hard, and the tip is so pink as some veins swirl down it.

“open your mouth.” heeseung starts to glide his dick into your mouth. your hand coming up to grip the base of it as your lips close around the tip. “god, keep those eyes on me.” heeseung groans out as you start to such his cock. heeseung keeps his hand on your head, hsi fingers meshing with your hair.

you do keep your eyes on him with as much of his cock as you can manage in your mouth. your hand jerks what you can’t fit as you moan against his dick.

“god you’re so big sir,”

“yeah? think it’ll fit inside your pussy? think it’ll stretch you out so good?” heeseung retorts, watching your mouth work on his cock. he’d be lying if he said you weren’t making him close to his orgasm already, your innocent eyes looking at him as your mouth sucks his soul out.

“yes, sir, please– want your cock so bad.” you speak before going back to sucking his cock. your tongue circles the hot, pink tip of it before tracing the delicious veins. your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth.

“are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth?”

you nod at him with his cock still fully in your mouth. heeseung moves both of his hands to grip your head as your own hand drops to your thighs, so tempted to play with your clit, but you know sir wouldn’t approve.

heeseung starts to slowly move his hips so his cock moves in and out of your mouth. he stops when the tip is at your throat– feeling your throat tighten against the tip. he almost pulls out fully everytime, just so that the tip is at your swollen lips before he pushes back in again.

“oh, my fucking god,” heeseung moans out, looking at the camera monitor to see him fucking your pretty mouth. your mouth feels too good for him to even notice that the viewer count is at 16,000. “play with my balls like a good girl.”

heeseung continues to fuck your mouth as your hand reaches fro his balls. they are heavy in your palm as you start to massage them gently. tugging on them and moving them around easily with your salvia that has dripped down.

heeseung pulls his dick fully out of your mouth, letting you breathe for a moment. you could feel your pussy drip down onto his carpet– you hoped it wouldn’t stain.

“open your mouth,” heeseung tells you. your jaw drops open, revealing your used tongue and mouth. heeseung leans over you and let’s a drop of his spit lands right onto your tongue before he starts to hit his dick against your tongue. he mixes your spit with his on his cock and both of you groan out at that the thought of it.

heeseung goes back to fucking your mouth. his grip on your head tight as he’s picked up the pace of his hips. his cock sliding so quickly in and out of your mouth. the sounds of your saliva and gurgling against his cock fill the room and microphone.

“that’s it, like that, like that like a good girl,” heeseung groans out his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his own pleasure boiling. probably boiling too much if he wants this to last any longer.

heeseung pulls away from you and pulls you with him for you to sit on the floor while he moves back to sit on the edge of his bed, his feet on the ground for you to sit in between them. your chest is heaving from excitement and lack of air. you watch as heeseung pulls down his pants fully and throws them on the floor beside his bed.

heeseung’s hand wraps around your neck as he looks down at you, “you ready to get fucked, darling?”

“yes, please.”

“ask me to fuck you.”

“can you please fuck me, sir.”

“get up on the bed and turn around.”

heeseung’s voice is demanding as you scramble to stand up, your knees tired from kneeling for so long. you get up on his bed for the first time. you turn around so your ass is towards him in the air, your face pressed into his bed.

heeseung pushes your chest further into his bed by placing his hand on your back, “stay like this like a good girl, okay?”

“yes, sir.”

“i’m gonna fuck this little pussy just like the slut you are.” heeseung grunts, spreading your ass cheeks more for him to slide his cock right inside of you.

the stretch of his cock is just what you imagined it would be. it’s almost blissful once he’s fully inside. you can feel the tip of his cock basically reaching your cervix. once he’s bottomed out completely, both of you groan out into his bedroom, pleasure taking over both of you.

“there we go, darling,” heeseung grunts through his teeth as he starts to slide back out of you. both of you feel each and every vein of his cock sliding against your oh, so wet walls. “let sir fuck you like a slut.”

heeseung’s one hand grips your waist as the other one stays on your back. his hips quickly pick up pace, his cock easily going in and out of you due to his saliva and your juices mixing together. your hands grip the blanket on his bed, crying out into the bed as you finally get what you want.

“oh my god it’s so big!” you whine out, your eyes trying to focus on the camera.

“yeah? it’s so big and full just for you, it’s all just for you.” heeseung grunts out, his bangs covering his forehead like usual, his eyes entranced only on you. he watches as your entire body jerks forward everytime he slams his cock into you. his hands run down and grab your ass, wanting to finally feel it after he’s seen it so many times on your livestreams.

heeseung slaps your ass, making you cry out a curse. the pain of it turning you on even more. you can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs as heeseung fucks you even rougher. heeseung’s balls are soaked from your juices.

“reach down and rub your clit for me.” heeseung demands you, trying to keep his voice steady when he speaks.

you manage to sneak your arm under your body to start rubbing circles on your clit with your index and middle fingers. you instantly cry out. with your fingers on your clit and heeseung managing to hit your g spot with every single thrust the pleasure starts to boil up more and more in your tummy.

“oh shit!”

“you better not cum unless i tell you to,” heeseung smacks your ass again, harder, a warning. “you hear me?”

“fu-fuck yes, sir.”

heeseung suddenly grabs you up from the bed from under your arms, mumbling a “come here” before he turns you to face the camera. both of you standing now with his cock still lunged inside of you.

“let everyone see this fucking slut’s body.” heeseung grunts out, staring directly at the camera as he continues to thrust up into you from the back. he reaches over your front, rubbing your clit for you now. your head is thrown back onto his shoulder, trying to keep standing upwards. “you like everyone seeing me use you like this? like using you to get off?”

“f-fuck sir, can i cum? please?” you whine out, barely being able to keep your eyes open as you look at him.

“yeah? you wanna cum, darling?” heeseung voice is almost teasing as he doesn’t stop his movements.

“please let me cum, sir. please i’m so close.”

“ok, cum for me, do it.” heeseung nods, his grunts loud in your ear as he manages to fuck you faster and faster.

you can’t lift your head from being thrown back onto heeseung’s shoulder. your body feels weak as heeseung fucks you infront of the camera, probably hundreds of people watching you come undone on hluvsbabes’ cock. you’ve been so close to orgasming for which feels like hours at this point.

“i’m cumming! i-i’m cumming!” you manage to cry out. your moans get higher in pitch as you finally reach your high.

if heeseung wasn't holding your body up with his arms, then you wouldn’t fell straight to the floor. the pleasure was almost over consuming. your body was on high sensitivity everywhere. to be honest, it had been awhile since anyone besides yourself or your vibrator had made you cum. that probably not getting any dick for a while and then fucking the hluvsbabes would probably make you feel as lightheaded as you do now.

heeseung gently pulls his cock from you, his hands slowing down on your clit before pulling away from it. he leads you to lay down on his bed. your head is on his pillow as he crawls on top of you. your bodies are still very visible to the camera from the way his bed is positioned.

heeseung starts to press soft, gentle kisses into your neck and jaw, letting you calm down from your very obvious, hard climax.

you hear heeseung chuckle into your ear before he speaks, “is this a bad time to tell you that i donated to you on your livestream before?”

through your post-nut haze, your eyes widen as you process the information, “what? when?”

heeseung laughs before he moves down your body, kissing every (sweaty) inch that he could, “a few days ago i guess, darling. i’ve watched your streams quite a lot to be honest.”

the way the nickname rolls off his tongue so easily makes it click in your head. “oh my god, you were the person who donated like 200$ the other day!” you also start laughing at the realization. who could not believe that hluvsbabes not only watched multiple of your streams, but also donated to you. your competitor for top creator was also boosting your content.

“yeah, i didn’t know how or if i should tell you that. but i guess now is the better time.” heeseung pulls away from your body so he’s on his knees hovering over you. “now put those legs up, let me see your swollen pussy again.”

heeseung helps guide you to hook your arms around your knees, holding your legs up, pressed against your chest. your entire core is exposed for not only heeseung’s eyes, but the camera’s and all of the audience’s.

“god please but your cock back inside of me, sir.”

heeseung drags his cock through your folds teasingly, “yeah? the slut wants to be stretched out again?”

“yes! sir, yes!”

heeseung guides his cock back inside of you with his hand, bottoming out completely in one thrust. your arms stay hooked around your knees, your hands resting on your ankles to keep yourself from squirming from the pleasure.

heeseung leans over you, his hand coming down to choke you again. his grip on your neck tight as he starts the previous pace he had. rough and hard. your whole body moves with every thrust, his headboard hitting his wall.

“oh fuck oh fuck!” you cry out, your pussy so sensitive from being overstimulated.

heeseung could feel your walls flutter around his cock, “you better not cum.” he pulls his cock out again, his hand slaps the tip of his cock over your clit, making you jerk up into his pillows. “tell me you won’t cum without permission, slut.”

“i-i won’t cum without permission, sir.”

heeseung slides back into you, his pace rough. the banging of his headboard in rhythm with his thrusts. your cries of pleasure mixing with his grunts. heeseung keeps both of his hands on your waist as he hovers over you. his main focus is to fuck you so good that you forget everything else. and by the way your eyes start to haze over with pleasure he can tell that he isn’t too far from it.

“keep your legs up,” heeseung grunts to you, reminding you to keep your knees by your face. your swollen pussy is visible to him now. he has clear access to see his cock fucking into you. your lips are so puffy that he can’t help his thumb rubbing your also swollen clit. your head is thrown back into the pillow, his hard, circles on your clit mixing with his hard thrusts are overpowering you completely.

heeseung leans over you, his hand gripping your neck again. his face is inches from you, his lips almost on yours. his thrusts don’t stop as he chokes you.

“you like being a good girl for me?” heeseung asks you more quietly, loosening his grip on your neck for a moment to let you speak.

“y-yes sir, i love it.” you nod up to him, completely submissive to him.

“turn around for me again, then.”

although your body felt weak from the pleasure, your adrenaline was rushing enough for you to be able to get up and turn over quite quickly. your ass up in the air as you grip onto the pillow in front of you. you feel heeseung behind you, lining up his hard, soaked cock with your soaked pussy.

“push back on it, darling.”

you let your knees push back, feeling his cock insert inside of you, filling you up yet again. this angle made him feel even bigger. his cock pressing into your cervix is only when you stop pushing back. heeseung’s hands land palm down on your ass when you bottom out. the pain makes you jut forward. the moan that escapes your lips as the pain settles on your ass is sinful.

“god, i love your ass,” heeseung smacks it again, watching it start to turn red, turning him on more he thought his cock was going to explode any minute now.

with that thought, heeseung starts sliding in and out of you again. his hand reaching over your back to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your upper half backward. the pain from his pulling makes you cry out in the best way. all of your senses seem to be overcome by heeseung. your grip on his pillow that smelt like him, tightened.

“you like being fucked like this? like being used?” heeseung grunts out to you, his own eyebrows furrowing together as your walls clench around him.

“ye-yeah, sir.”

“say it.”

“i like being used, sir.”

“look at me while i fuck you.”

with his hand still pulling your hair, you turn your head to look at him. his face is flushed, his lips are swollen from probably biting them so much. there’s sweat dripping down his line of abs that you just want to lick off. his bangs are sweaty and stuck to his forehead. he looks so hot.

heeseung continues to fuck you until his thrusts get sloppy, his grunts get softer and his headboard isn’t banging against his wall. you turn to look at him, “let me ride you.”

his hand smacks against one of your ass cheeks, making you cry out, “ask me.”

“can i please ride you, sir?”

heeseung pulls out of you, both of you switching places so now heeseung’s head is in the pillow that you were gripping. his legs are flat out against the bed as you crawl over him. both of your knees are on either side of him as you look down at him now.

slowly, you start to sink down onto his cock. you close your eyes as he bottoms out in you once again. this angle felt entirely different. you could feel how hard and big he was inside of you. heeseung’s hands run up and down your bare thighs, letting you get use to the angle.

“you good?” he asks from below you, concern on his face.

“yeah, just sensitive -is all.” you shrug to him and start to move slowly. you start out slow, wanting to build both of your orgasms again. your knees lift your body up and down with the help of heeseung’s hands on your waist, he helps lift you.

your hands grip your tits, massaging them again. your sensitive nipples hard against your palm. you start to bounce down on his harder, his tip hitting your g spot everytime now. you cry out in pleasure again.

“fuck just like that,” you tell him, your eyes closed as you nod to him.

“like that?” heeseung teases you, his cock hitting your g spot again.

“y-yes,” you tell him, bouncing harder.

“fuck, i love his pussy,” heeseung grunts to you, “so warm and tight around my cock.”

“oh my god,” your body falls forward, your hands resting on either side of his head as heeseung takes over the thrusts completely. his hands on your waist as he thrusts his hips upwards into your pussy. “fuck, sir.”

heeseungs grip on you leaves you to go nowhere. just stay on top of him as he fucks into you. your knees feel weak against his mattress. you can feel his balls slapping your ass every time he bottoms out in you. heeseung can feel your juices dripping down onto his lower stomach.

“okay turn around, slut, let the audience see you.” heeseung gently pushes your core up and off of him. your mind feels dazed as heeseung has to literally, physically flip you over on him.

now that you’re in reverse cowgirl, you can see yourself in the camera’s monitor. heeseung lays underneath you still, so just your bare body can be seen completely. you look so different you usually do, you’re glowing.

your feet and arms hold your body up over heeseung, his hands on your waist as he slides himself up into you.

“oh fuck!” you cry out, watching heeseung dick disappear inside of you in the camera. you start to bounce up and down on his cock again, though you keep your eyes open to watch yourself.

“shit, keep going, baby.” heeseung grunts below you, “just like that.”

with every thrust heeseung’s balls are hitting your clit. you can hear a wet squelch between your bodies everytime you move. your pussy is so wet around his cock. heeseung wraps his arm around your body, massaging your clit with his fingers in a circle once again.

“yes, sir! rub my clit, sir please!” you cry out to him. your hands sturdy yourself on his chest behind you as you continue to bounce on him. his cock filling you up every time. his hard balls slapping against your pussy. his fingers keep moving against your clit. “i’m so close, sir, so close!”

suddenly, heeseung’s fingers stop and he’s pushing you off of him. your chest is heaving as you look back on him. your pussy is clamping around nothing, so desperate to cum.

“lay down,” heeseung is also out of breath when he speaks, “wanna see your face when you cum.” heeseung grabs your forearm and helps you lay down again. he puts your one leg up to your face, allowing him access to slide into your fucking soak pussy again.

heeseung holds your leg up, while the other starts to rub your clit again. his thrusts continue to stretch you out, to hit your cervix over and over again. you aren’t sure how much longer you can last with this much pleasure he continuously gives you. you’ve never had sex this good before.

“want me to fill up your little pussy?” heeseung grunts above you.

“yes, sir.”

“ask me.”

“please cum inside of me!” you cry out, heeseung’s hand smacks your thigh before returning to hold your leg up, “own this pussy, fucking own it it’s yours!”

“oh fuck!” heeseung grunts out, your words making him closer to his own orgasm so quickly.

“oh my god i wanna feel you fill me up so bad, sir.” you were becoming so desperate, so needy. you wanted to cum so bad. you wanted heeseung to cum so bad.

“fuck me, keep talking, keep talking, darling.”

“please cum inside of me! i want it so bad!” you tell him honestly. his thrusts making your whole body move with each thrust. you can feel his cock start to twitch inside of you. his moans getting higher, mixing with your own.

“fuck, baby, i’m gonna fucken cum,” heeseung tells you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster and harder.

“me too, me too.” you cry out, your eyes closing as the pleasure takes over you.

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed together as the pleasure became too much for him, too. curses and moans fill up his bedroom– entertain the audience that’s watching you through the camera. he feels your walls clench harder around him than ever before as his cock starts to spurt his white sperm.

heeseung paints your walls with his cum as you grip his forearms tight. your second orgasm making your body feel numb from how good you feel. his thrusts finally stop as his grunts slow down. his cock rests inside of you as he lays on top of you. both of you catching your breaths and coming down from your highs for one second.

“fuck,” heeseung curses in your ear, his chest heaving against yours. he finally pulls out of you, both of you watching his cum slowly trickle out of your pussy. “god that’s so hot.” heeseung reaches down to swipe some of his cum.

you immediately open your mouth, wanting a taste of it. heeseung rests his fingers on your tongue, letting you taste his salty sperm. you moan around his fingers, sucking them dry of his cum.

“you’re such a good girl.” heeseung grunts out, “you’re gonna make me hard again.”

you laugh around his fingers, “i wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

heeseung smirks at you and kisses you deeply. both of your eyes closing as you welcome the other’s lips. the taste of heeseung’s cum not bothering either of you.

heeseung pulls away from you and is the first to stand up. he reaches over and tosses you his shirt to slip on before he heads back to his computer desk.

you easily slip on his shirt and pull his sheets and blanket over top of your bare legs.

“holy shit.” heeseung exclaims, pure shock and what almost sounds like fear in his voice.

“what?” you sit up in his bed properly, trying to look at his computer screen.

“there’s 30,000 viewers right now.”

“holy shit.” you cover your mouth. you had never had that many viewers before in your life. 30,000 viewers, it’s literally like yours and heeseung’s fan bases came together to view your live stream.

heeseung clears his throat, “uh, thank you guys so much, really. we hope you enjoyed, right?” he looks over at you from his shoulder.

“right, we’ll see you next time, hopefully. thank you.”

“right, because there definitely needs to be a next time.” heeseung winks and with a final wave he ends the stream. you notice the red light on the camera turns off.

you lay back in heeseung’s pillows, feeling tired as your legs gain back their strength. you hear heeseung hum gently as he fixes things on his computer, on his hluvsbabes account. you feel relaxed as you lay in his bed, wanting to sleep so bad.

“holy shit!” heeseung yells louder suddenly, his humming stopping as he pushes his chair back, standing up in only his boxers.

“what?” your heart races, concerned from his yelling. “what happened?”

“y/n,” heeseung turns to you with a silly grin on his face, “do you know how much money we made off of that?”

you sit up straight, leaning closer to him though he’s meters away, “how much, heeseung.”

heeseung can’t contain his excitement when he states, “15k.”

“oh my god!” you cover your mouth, not believing what you’re hearing. “you’re fucking lying.”

“no i’m not! come look!”

you stand up, legs wobbling a bit, but heeseung catches your arm nonchalantly. bringing you over to sit in his chair again. there, on the computer screen, is the number 15,000$ in tips connected to the livestream you had finished.

“oh my god, heeseung!” you turn to him, your excitement meeting his. both of you wrap your arms around each other, your squeals filling the room as you rock side to side with excitement. “15k!”

“15k!” heeseung shouts back as he pulls away slightly, his hands still on your waist.

“now we definitely have to do it again.” you tease him.

heeseung smiles, but you notice his shoulders tense, “yeah, but before that,” heeseung swallows harshly, “could we go on a date?’

you sit up in his chair, wearing his shirt and nothing else, “wow, the hluvsbabes wants to go on a date with me.”

“of course, i mean, i recently got a lot of money. so, i can spend it all on you.”

you shove his shoulder with your hand, “of course i’ll go on a date with you, heeseung.”

“really?” heeseung asks, his face lighting up so prettily.

“yeah, but only if you fuck me really good after.”

“that, i can definitely promise.”

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

#heeseung smut #smut #enhypen smut #enhypen #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #hard hours #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enha #enha smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen fanfic #fanfic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung #kpop #kpop smut

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maikorian · 12 days ago

Text

YOU’RE A WITCH! - CLARK KENT

Summary: Clark didn’t expect his girlfriend to be the newest hero in Metropolis. The red witch.

warning: no warnings, mostly fluff, one close encounter

authors note: this was supposed to be a short one, i swear. i just got too excited and wrote too much. i got somewhat lazy at the end so please forgive me. next fic should be out maybe tomorrow or the day after tomorrow! like and reblog if you enjoy!

word count: 6.1k

The usual buzzing in the Daily Planet is louder than the norm. Loud discussions over the phone are happening. The sound of words being typed onto a keyboard are much more frantic. It should be a normal sight, right? The Daily Planet is the largest newspaper company in Metropolis after all. Of course every single journalist in the room is running around the place like maniacs to chase the latest hot news.

They’re eager to prove themselves. No one wants to get stuck doing boring topics like sports or whatever mundane news that needs to be written about. They’re chasing the opportunity that could possibly land them on the front page. Doing anything they could do to get a lick of recognition. To be one of the top dogs in the Daily Planet. It’s an exhausting and competitive field. Yet, no one ever gets tired of it. The adrenaline is what keeps them going.

So, you shouldn’t be too surprised by all of this. You’ve been working there for at least three years now. Nothing to be afraid of!

Wrong!

It’s not the chaos that’s scarring you. It’s what they’re talking about that makes you want to tear your own hair out and hide out of sheer embarrassment. Everyone is jumping onto the latest mystery in Metropolis. The Red Witch. A new hero that suddenly appeared out of nowhere a few months ago. She was first seen protecting helpless civilians from the weekly interdimensional monster that decided to attack Metropolis. Hundreds of innocent people were seconds away from getting swallowed up until the witch stepped in.

With the flick of her hands, she created a red dome around everyone. It prevented the monster's venomous saliva from hurting a single person. Despite the monster's heavy attacks, the witch did not falter. Her strength clearly outmatched the interdimensional being. She helped fend it off long enough for Superman to come rushing in to save the day. A heroic act that has earned the praise from the tons.

Yet despite the overwhelming support from the public, the Red Witch disappeared moments later. The only trace of her actions were the cameras that faintly captured her presence.

After that, there was barely any mention of her. Well, on the news of course. But online? There were talks everywhere. If you opened up whatever social media app you have and searched ‘The Red Witch’, instantly you’d see tons of groups discussing her. You wouldn’t see her in the middle of Metropolis like Superman or the Green Lantern. No, you have to go to the Southside to find her. The Suicide Slums. It’s only there do you get the chance to meet the witch herself albeit under less than welcome situations.

The only time you can ever catch a glimpse of her is when she swoops in to save you from getting mugged or assaulted. It happens in seconds. All you see is a figure dressed in red before she vanishes once more. It’s why photographers and journalists were going crazy trying to get some bit of news about this new hero. She’s a tricky hero to get an interview with. Much less a picture. And why were you concerned with all of this?

It’s cause you’re the freaking Red Witch. There was no way in hell you were going to let yourself get interviewed and have your picture taken. It’s the total opposite thing that you wanted.

“Have you guys heard about this witch hero?” Jimmy’s voice breaks your train of thought. Your desk is right next to his so it’s hard to ignore his chatter. “It’s hard not to when everyone on the internet is.” Lois rolls her chair back, a tired expression on her face. No doubt from the late nights she’s been doing to complete her newest article.

Jimmy leans in even more, “Right? I mean– She’s kinda cool. The red powers and everything.” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. God, you wished that you couldn’t understand English right now. “What do you think about it, Clark?” The mention of Clarks’ name had you ears perking up. To be honest, you were kind of curious what your boyfriend thought of your alter ego. Jimmy seemed to be in your favor, Lois was indifferent, but Clark? You had no clue.

Clark turns in his chair, his glasses slipping down his nose enough for him to push it back up in its place. “Huh? I- uhm– She’s okay, I guess?” Jimmy rolls his eyes at this answer. “Oh come on! Give us a real answer or are you too much of a Superman fan to tell us?” You snicker at this. Everyone knew how much Clark supported Superman. He’s the only one that can get an interview with the guy. Worst part is, he won’t let anyone know how he does it. Not even you.

Not getting the answer that he wanted, Jimmy turns his attention to you. “What do you think about this whole witch thing?” You stayed silent for a bit. You wanted to turn down the heat so you didn’t get more attention. What better way to do it than discrediting the own actions of your other self. “I think she’s not all that. I mean– Even if she didn’t step in, Superman would’ve been there to do it. Nothing would change if she wasn’t there. Plus, with the way that she’s always hiding? I can’t help but be suspicious of her.” You scoffed. It’s weird talking trash about yourself but it wouldn’t be the first time.

Your answer was quick to turn Lois, Clarks and Jimmys heads. “So, you don’t like her?” Lois grinned, rolling her chair closer to you. Your heart is hammering in your chest now. “I’m not saying I don’t like her! All I think is her actions are a bit scummy. That’s it. I mean if she really is a hero, why didn’t she help out Superman or the Justice Gang when another monster attacked Cenntenial Park last week? She probably just stepped in once to get everyone’s attention.” That was a big and total lie. You were sick as a dog when the attack happened. You didn’t even realize it happened because you were tucked under layers of blankets. You may have powers but you are not immune to the average cold.

“Maybe she had something going on? I heard she’s been busy at Hob’s Bay.” Clark spoke out. If you could, you’d hit Clarks head with the juice box you were drinking from. Jimmy’s smirk widened at his comment. “Oh, so now you’re switching sides? But true, a lot of people spotted her dealing with some criminals there. A good thing too cause that place is kind of like Gotham but slightly better.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with Jimmy on this one. At least Hob’s Bay is somewhat safer with her now around.” A part of you wanted to throw yourself out a window. What had you gotten yourself into?

Everyone has their thing that helps them during times of troubles. Some choose alcohol or cigarettes. You instead choose food.

You’re sitting on a bench at Metropolis Park, taking in the sun before it fully sets. You have a half eaten burrito in your hands. Although the place you bought it from is a 30 minute walk from work and the price is a little steep, it’s worth it when you take the first bite. Your own comfort food. You need it after the day you had.

Everyone keeps talking about her. The Red Witch. It’s honestly mildly uncomfortable. You never wanted to be a hero. Working as a journalist is already exhausting enough, now being a part time hero? That eradicates at least two hours from your usual sleeping time. You already had troubles sleeping so this wasn’t helping you at all. But you couldn’t stop, not after what you’ve done.

The first time you saved someone was out of instinct. It was before you were labelled the Red Witch. You were just passing by when you caught someone getting mugged. The look of fear is something you couldn’t forget so you made the first move. Using the powers infused in your bones, you flicked the perpetrator away, knocking them out almost instantly. And for the first time, you saw it.

Hope.

You gave someone hope and that was enough to start a fire in you.

Your actions were miniscule compared to other heroes. You didn’t rush in to save someone from a burning building or take down a bunch of armed robbers. You just help people when you can. Blocking water from hitting an old lady when a car decides to drive through a puddle during intense rain. Helping a child get its balloon back when it accidentally flies out of its hand. Or helping a woman who had her heel stuck in the cracks of the pavement. Barely noticeable actions that people could mistake for the wind or sheer luck.

You were content with that. Even though you didn’t do all that fancy stuff, you could at least make someone's day easier.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t even realize someone was sitting next to you. Clark. He had a cup of coffee in his hands, his briefcase tucked beside him on the chair. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking about my latest article.” You lied, sparing him a quick smile. Clark quirked up an eyebrow at you. “Your latest article? Isn’t it about sports? Thought you said there wasn’t much to think about sports.”

You huffed at this, taking another bite of your food. He got you there. “It was… but I never said there wasn’t any thinking at all. Only a little.” You shift closer to Clark, resting your head on his shoulder. It was nice being here with him. You had left the office a little bit before him. Partly because you needed some time to think and cause you also wanted to buy food.

“Are you sure you’re okay, honey?” The worry in Clarks one is as clear as day. “You’ve been looking a lot more tired these past few days.” It’s no doubt because of your nightly activities in Hob’s Bay. Kicking criminals asses takes a lot of energy from you. And that’s only after an hour or two of doing it. You’ve been so exhausted ever since you started doing it. “I’m sure, Clark. Work is draining me, that’s all.” You muttered, kicking a random rock that was near you.

“I’ll make you dinner tonight. You need to rest.”

“Mmh, that sounds nice. As long as it’s not breakfast food again.” Clark whines at this. He wraps his arms around your shoulder and buries his face in your hair. “It’s your favorite food though. Don’t you wanna eat pancakes and bacon? Everybody loves that.” You snorted at him, shaking your head with a tired smile. “That’s your favorite. Not mine. I want dinner food tonight.” The sight of your little pout and pleading eyes had Clarks resistance faltering. “Alright… dinner food it is.”

The park is a little quiet. Not a lot of people came here on the weekend. Only some kids and joggers. “So, is that what you really think of that new hero?” You tensed up for a moment. You hoped Clark didn’t notice this. Avoiding his gaze, you started to speak. “Pretty much. She doesn’t interest me all that much.” You knew your tone was somewhat vague but you didn’t know what else to say about it.

“I gotta admit, she's pretty great.”

“Is she?”

Clark nodded his head. “She helped a lot of people. It’s hard for Superman to be everywhere at once. Her work at the Southside is doing a lot of good. It’s impressive.” You can hear the soft beating in your heart growing louder. Hearing him praise your doing even though he doesn’t know that the hero is you is kinda cute. And it gives you the opportunity to mess with him.

“Oh? So you like her more than me? How heartbreaking.” That instantly causes Clark to panic. He nearly spills his coffee when he squeezes it a bit too tightly. “W-What? Wait– No! That’s not what I meant. She’s just really cool and pretty—”

“So you think she’s prettier than me?”

“No! Stop putting words in my mouth again!”

You can’t hold back the laughter that threatened to escape from your lips. A flustered Clark is always a sight to see. The tips of his ears are a bright red as he attempts to rewind his own words. Clark has dated you long enough to know that you like doing this to him. You’ve called him a number of names and twisted his words just for fun. You flash him a teasing grin. “I’m not doing that at all. You’re just imagining things.” You taunted. This brings out another annoyed huff from Clark.

“You are such a minx–” The sounds of terrified screams pierce through the air. All you can see is a wave of dust coming towards you and hundreds of people running your way. It’s another attack. Your burrito is long forgotten on the wet grass as you stood up from the bench. Fear freezes your movements. This monster is so much bigger than you could ever imagine. You’ve only faced one of them once and it was definitely a lot smaller than that one. It’s height easily towered over buildings and billboards.

These are the monsters that you watched on the TV from the comfort of your home. You didn’t have the confidence to take them down so you never intervened. This one… it’s so close.

You take a step forward but all you’re met with is dust. Every step the monster takes sends over another wave. You cough as you taste the dust from the debris fills your lungs and nose. It burns. It hurts. You feel like you’re about to choke on nothing but air. You can’t do anything but watch as the monster comes closer. But Superman can. The question is, where is he?

Before you can even entertain your question, a hand covers your mouth and nose. It blocks the dust from entering your system. Clark pulls you towards him, covering you with his large body. Your fingers grasp the sleeve of his suit jacket, eyes wide with fear as you stare up at him. “We’ve gotta go, honey. Hold on, okay? Don’t let go of me.” You can barely hear him through the screaming. You muster a quick and shaky nod. That’s enough for Clark as he moves his hand away from your mouth. His hand grasps yours before the two of you start running for your life with the other people around you.

There are some people from the shops on the side of the street that are calling out in the air. Urging for people to get out of the way and into safety. These shelters fill up quickly. The ones that are closer to the underground subways flee there. Your legs are burning and so are your lungs. You’re holding onto Clark for dear life. You nearly trip over your own two feet because of the heels you have on. You want to use your powers but you can’t risk the exposure. You can’t let anyone know who you are.

Clark drags you into a store that thankfully isn’t filled to the brim yet. But it’s still incredibly crowded. The grip you have on his sleeve is slipping. “Clark!” You cry out, doing your best not to lose him. “Honey–” A person then rushes past you, their shoulder ramming into your chest. It knocks the wind out of you and you slip on the cold tile. Your hold on Clark loosens. You can’t see him anymore. Not in this crowd. Your back slams into a metallic shelf. Yeah, that will definitely leave a bruise.

You groan at the plain blooming in your back. You’re pressed up against a shelf as the sea of people grows larger. Clark is gone. Probably somewhere in the store

Through gaps in the crowd, you can look out the window. Destruction and chaos littered the streets of Metropolis. The air grows thinner in the store. It’s hard to breathe here. You stiffly make your way through the crowd. You need to get out of this place. By some sheer miracle, you managed to grab onto a door handle. A supply room. With a bit of force, you managed to force yourself way in and slammed the door behind you.

Thankfully, there isn’t a single person inside. You unbutton the first button of your blouse. Sweat clings to your clothes as it drips down your skin. You thought you were about to suffocate in there. You can hear everything going on outside this very building. The monster that's wreaking havoc on the streets of your home. You can’t just stand by and let it happen. Not without doing a single thing to stop it.

With a snap of your fingers, the clothes you were wearing quickly transformed into an entirely different outfit. One that you wore whenever you left your home to help the citizens in the Southside. The dark colours of red on the fabric hugging snugly to your form. You didn’t have a mask but you casted a spell that would distort your face in other people's eyes. Everyone would have different opinions on what you’d look like but never would their answer lead to you.

Crawling out of the window that leads to an alleyway, you ran out towards the streets that were covered in bits and pieces of rubble. First priority, getting people off the streets and into a safer location. Second priority, minimizing the damages to surrounding buildings. Taking a running start, you launched yourself off the ground and landed on the roof of a building. It was tall enough for you to get a look of your surroundings.

There were three large groups of people trying to escape the monster's destruction. A strong gush of wind brushed past you, nearly causing you to trip. Superman. He’s here. Not only that, so were the Justice Gang. At least you wouldn’t have to concern yourself with dealing with the monster. You weren’t experienced enough to deal with it.

The sound of screaming snapped your attention back to the crowd beneath you. Right, defense. You ran through the broken streets and made your way to the closest group that was nearest to the monster. They were in the high-risk zone. Your boots hit the ground with a loud thud. You needed to get to them as fast as you could before that ugly thing running around decides to crush them like stepping on an ant. It’s a good thing that it was occupied with the other supes attacking it.

Energy burst out of your hands, targeting the large piece of rubble in front of you. The sound of it catching the groups attention. “It’s her! The Red Witch!” Someone gasped. You paid no focus to their words and looked around for a place for them to seek shelter. With another push of your hands, the red wisps coming from your hands pushed away any sort of blockage. That was the only thing that stopped them from escaping.

“Go! Get out of here!” You shouted. No one dared to defy your words and started booking it. You created a shield big enough to deflect any sort of attacks that could harm them. It came in handy since the monster began to notice your presence. The loud roar from it was obvious enough. That and the several blocks of cement it decided to throw at you. You grunted under the force. It took a decent amount of energy to maintain the shields against intense attacks.

It was about to do another round of throwing if it weren’t for Superman landing a hard punch across it’s face. The two of you shared a quick glance before nodding. You two knew your roles in this fight. He attacks while you defend.

Once the first group was safely out of view, you moved onto the second. Most were trapped under tons of debris. Their cries of joy echoing through the air once you freed them. This was the most you’ve spent your energy in a day. The last time you spent this much was when you debuted as the Red Witch. You weren’t about to give up now. You had one more group that needed to be saved. Just one more. And then you can disappear like you always did.

You heard whispers of your names flowing from the mouths of the people. Some offered their thanks and some were praises. All of it was nothing but static to your ears as you focused on the task at hand. Saving people. That’s all that mattered to you in this very moment. You weren’t going to sit back and let lives be lost. Not anymore.

Save people and get out. That’s what you planned but your plans were quickly thwarted when the monster placed all of it’s attention on you. Guess it wasn’t pleased with the fact that they’re food was getting away.

You were guiding the last group to safety when you heard it. The sound of it charging up. Vibrations thrumming in the air. You turned around just in time to create a shield before the large beam of energy could hit you. It’s strong. Devastatingly so. You could see the way your shield was breaking. The red fading bit by bit. But you can’t disable the shield. There were still people running behind you. If you let your shield now, both you and them would die.

So you pour every single energy bit into fueling the shield. The sheer force of the attack has you sliding back a few inches. It feels like the bones in your fingers might just snap. You know that you can’t take all of it. It’s too much for you. The longer this goes on, the more your energy is sucked away. A thought hits you at this very moment. Instead of deflecting, why not absorbing? And so you did. Absorbing takes less energy because you’re using some of the energy from the blast to fuel you. It works.

The ball of red in your hands grew bigger until a certain point and the second the monster stops, you attack. You fling it towards the monster. The energy exploded right in the middle of its chest. It’s enough to injure it somewhat but not fully kill it as the energy disperses throughout its body. The force causes it to stumble back, allowing you to catch your breath. When you look behind you, everyone you intended to save was safe. You completed your task. Now, you can leave–

If only that were true. Would it be wise of you to just up and leave like this? Superman and the Justice Gang were struggling a little with taking it down. A little help won’t hurt, right?

You take the first step and it’s enough to bring you into a full sprint. You’re shooting beams of chaos energy at it. Every time it swings in your direction, you just teleport behind it to deal more blows. A voice calls out from beside you. “It’s skin is too thick! We’re need it to stay still so we can open it’s mouth” It’s Mr. Terrific. He’s flying right next to you on whatever device he’s using. “You think you can do that?” All he gets is a firm nod for you before you’re heading for the monster's legs.

Your energy acts as chains as it wraps around the monster's ankles and wrists. You’re doing your best to keep it held down. Dragging the humongous thing down with all your might. Your stamina is quickly fading. Your muscles are screaming at you to stop and rest. The burning feeling rushing through your veins like fire. There’s spots of black appearing in your vision. You’re about to reach your limit.

Well, shit.

Worst part is, the thrum of vibrations in the air is happening again. The monster was charging up again to shoot another beam of energy. It wasn’t targeted towards you this time but at Superman. Problem is that Superman is holding back the monster as well. You notice this but he doesn’t, not yet. Your body moves on it’s own. Your hand reaching out to him as you create another shield to protect Superman. A cry pain slips past your lips but you don’t stop. You push through the pain.

Clarks eyes widened when he saw the shield being formed in front of him. Moments later, another beam of energy is being shot at him, the shield deflecting all of it away from him. His gaze shifts towards you. There’s something about you that looks… familiar. He’s not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the determination shining behind your eyes are the strength in your powers. The only thing Clark is sure about is that he knows you. Just not specifically who.

Panic shoots through when he sees something heading straight towards you. The monsters tail was swinging around on the ground and you’re in it’s line of attack. You were about to get hit.

Clark shifts his attention to you instead. He lets go of the hold he has on the monster and dives straight towards you. Your control over your power slips when you see the large limb coming at you. You can’t teleport in time. You can’t shield yourself from it. It would crush you in seconds. You’re still holding onto the monster albeit a bit weaker now. It’s too late.

A person once said that before you die, you can see memories of your life flash before your eyes. And the only person you can think about is him. Clark. Ah, he’ll be so worried when he can’t find you. Will he be mad that you’re the Red Witch that died in battle? Your face distortion spell would stop when your heart stops beating. You wonder if he’ll grieve and mourn your death. It’s not fair. You’re supposed to move in with him soon. You were supposed to have dinner with him tonight. That’s a shame.

A shadow is casted over you as the monster lifts its tail to slam down onto you. You’re done for. All you can do it wait for it to end.

You squeeze your eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath as you wait for the excruciating pain of getting crushed to death. It doesn’t come. Before you know it, a gush of wind knocks you off your feet. You feel yourself flying through the air. A warm pair of hands wraps itself around your middle. They’re holding onto you tightly. Wind rushes through your body as you fly through the air. This feels familiar. The warmth, the comfort, all of it. You can’t place a finger on who it is though. They’re keeping you safe right now. They helped save you before the monster could kill you.

The sight of the monster is becoming smaller and smaller as you’re flown farther away from it. You can hear explosions happening in the background. The monster wails loudly and collapses onto the ground. It’s finally dead. The weight of it’s body hitting the ground sends shockwaves. You grab onto the fabric of the persons shirt tightly. Your head is buried in the crook of their neck to protect yourself. Familiar…

The shockwave sends you and your savior crashing onto the ground. Your body is protected and you skid across the road and somehow land into an empty alleyway.

All you hear is the sound of panting as the man beneath you takes deep breaths. You’re lying on his chest, his arms still around your waist. Complete and utter silence surrounds you. There’s nowhere around you to witness this. No cameras, no crowds, nothing. A soft pained groan comes out from you as you sit up. You’re sitting on… Superman?

Your arms are on either side of his head. You’re both breathing heavily, the adrenaline of the attack still fresh in your veins. The close contact makes you blush. It’s only then do you get a good look at him. You’ve seen pictures of him but never have you met him in person. No matter how much you beg Clark to let you interview him, he never gives in. It’s the one thing you can’t make him do. And let’s just say he looks a lot better than the pictures online.

Chiselled jaw, bright blue eyes, curly hair that's slicked back. He looks like a Greek god. And looks eerily similar to Clark. Despite the dirt thats on his cheek, he still looks handsome.

The two of you are just silently staring at each other. None of you make a single move to get off. His hand reaches out to your cheek. He tucks the strand of loose hair behind your ear. A touch so simple and gentle that it makes you freeze. He even feels like Clark. It has you leaning into touch like clockwork. And the way that he looks at you… it has your heart racing. He could probably hear it as well.

“Do… Do I know you?” Superman whispers. It’s only then do you snap out of your little haze. You scramble off of him as if his touch burned your skin. Your cheeks are flushed red and the pounding in your heart grows louder. You had to physically turn your back to him in hopes to calm down your racing heart. No, you shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not with Superman. “No, you don’t. I’m– I don’t know you.” You whisper breathlessly.

Superman reaches out to you, his fingers barely grazing your hand before you pull away. You shouldn’t have continued to help. “Wait–” You’re gone in an instant. Clark didn’t even have the chance to ask you. He still couldn’t shake off that feeling that he knew you. The warmth of your body in his hands was all too familiar. And he had a sneaking feeling that he knew exactly who it was.

The first thing you did when you got back home was scream your lungs into the nearest pillow. You genuinely didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with you. That moment between you and superman was stuck in your head like glue. You have a boyfriend! A loving, kind and caring Clark Kent. He’s the best man you’ve ever met in your entire existence of living. God, you were hoping for god to strike you down at this moment.

How were you supposed to explain this to Clark without having to also explain that you’re the new hero everyone's talking about? Keeping this secret from him was hard enough. Were you supposed to just forget about your interaction with him entirely? You can’t. Not with the way he held you in his arms. How firm his body felt against yours– No! You shouldn’t be thinking about it. It’s so hard to forget though. Your cheeks turn red every time you think about it.

The news wasn’t helping you either. When you turned the TV on, all you saw were reports talking about the attack. More importantly, they were talking about you. No official statement was made by the Justice Gang yet about your involvement but people are already assuming that you’re one of them. All because you decided to step in and help after evacuating civilians. Well ain’t this just great! The attention that you were trying to get rid of was now burning brighter. This was out of your control at this point.

Then it hits you. Clark hasn’t called you yet. When you open your phone, there’s no text or call from him. Dread begins to fill your stomach.

“Oh hell, no no no no no no. Please be okay.” You whispered. What if he’s in the hospital? What if he got hurt or even worse? No, you can’t bring yourself to think like that. Clark was your anchor. Without him even knowing it, he’s helped you control your powers. Your powers are linked to your emotions. If you were mentally going insane, your powers would act the same way. Uncontrollable. Powerful. Deadly.

You’re so caught in your own head that you don’t even notice that you’re using your powers. Items all over the apartment are floating up into the air. Even the couch was starting to levitate. You're biting down on your fingernails anxiously while texting Clark like a madman. Usually he texted you almost instantly. Right now it's dead silent from his end.

You might actually turn to tearing your own hair out. You were almost about to do that until you heard a voice from the foyer. “Well at least this confirmed my theory.” You nearly get whiplash from how fast you turned your head. “This isn’t what it looks like. I promise.” You scrambled onto your feet. The items that were floating in the air crashed down to the floor as you stood in front of Clark with a panicked look

The sound of the plates crashing down on the floor made you cringe. That’s another mess you’d have to clean up. You’re half tempted to just… use your powers on Clark. You could take him down easily. Scramble his mind for a split second to give you enough time to run away but you don’t. You couldn’t hurt Clark. No matter how much you wanted to protect your identity.

The air is tense. You stare at him with a guilty expression on his face. He knows now. He knows what you are. What you’ve been doing for the past few months after dark.

You should be fleeing right now. You don’t know how he’ll react. Clark rarely raises his voice and most of the time it’s not even at you. He wouldn’t hurt you. At least that’s what you believe. Clark starts to walk towards you. His face held a neutral expression. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. “Look, I know– I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have kept this from you but I didn’t know how’d you react and I got scared so I just lied. Please, Clark, please don’t be mad at me.” You keep rambling and apologizing to him as you slowly walk backwards.

Your back hits the wall behind you. Clark’s frame easily towers over yours. There’s still some distance between you but he’s slowly closing it. When he raises his hand, you think he’s about to hit you. He doesn’t. His hand instead moves to your cheek, thumb brushing along your soft skin. It’s a vast difference from what you thought he’d do. “I know. I know… It’s okay, I’m not mad.” Clark softly whispered.

He does not raise his voice or stare down at you with anger. Clark looks scared. Concerned. Like he saw something that scared him more than ever. “You aren’t hurt, right?” You slowly shake your head. You’re partly surprised that Clark didn’t seem too phased by the fact that you’re the new hero roaming around Metropolis. “N-No, No I’m perfectly fine. I have a small bruise on my back and that’s it.” You murmured.

A sigh of relief is what comes from him. He presses a kiss to your head, savoring your presence here in his arms. “Thank god, I thought that when I carried you away from that monster you got hurt–”

“When did you carry me?”

Clark gets real quiet at that. One… Two… Three… It starts to click into your head. It explains a lot of things now that you think of it. The sudden disappearances throughout the day, how he gets his special one on one interview with Superman, how unnaturally fast his reflexes are sometimes. Clark also had his build. Same height and everything. It’s only the oversized suit jacket and glasses that make him look oh…

Without saying a single word, you flick the glasses away from Clark’s face. “Holy shit–” Clark quickly covers your mouth but your eyes said everything. The fogginess in your brain begins to disappear. The glasses made him look completely different to you. Subtle changes that make him similar but also not Superman. It’s no wonder he didn’t freak out when he found out who you were. His secret was even bigger than yours. Everything starts to fit together so perfectly that it’s almost astonishing that you didn’t figure it out sooner.

“You’re Superman…”

“I am.”

“We’re both superheroes.”

“I know.”

Well now a whole lot of things are going to change between you two after this.

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svtiddiess · 4 months ago

Text

Red Silk

Synopsis: Your boyfriend's birthday gift? Him—wrapped in a pretty little bow under you.

Pairing: Mingyu (SVT) x afab!reader

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, oneshot

Rating: mature/nsfw

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: no plot just filth, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), bondage, blindfolds, masturbation, ab riding, degradation, spanking, creampie, big dick!Mingyu, size kink, mean dom!Mingyu, sub!reader, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Mandatory Mingyu birthday fic. Happy Birthday, Mingoori! I hope your birthday is filled with lots of love and happiness!

Thank you @chugging-antiseptic-dye for beta reading!

Thank you @okiedokrie for the amazing banner and dividers!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you put the finishing touches on the crimson silk ribbon. Leaning back, you admire your handiwork: red silk wrapped snugly around your boyfriend's toned and naked body, his hands pinned together at the top with the ribbon in a delicate bow keeping him in place. It's hard not to let your eyes linger—his tan biceps straining against the vibrant red, his hooded gaze locks onto yours, and his pink tongue occasionally darts out to wet his lips.

"This doesn't really feel like a birthday gift, babygirl," Mingyu grumbles, tugging lightly at the restraints.

You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Oh, but it is! You just have to trust me, Gyu."

He lets out a resigned sigh as you shift off the bed, his eyes following your every move.

"I've got another surprise for you," you purr, your voice dripping sugar tainted with mischief.

With a teasing smile, you slowly undo the robe you're wearing, letting it slip to the floor and revealing the red lingerie underneath, matching the silk binding Mingyu. His eyes widen, and a low growl rumbles in his chest as he tugs harder at the restraints. You can't help but giggle at his futile struggle.

"Do you like the surprise, Gyu?" you tease, giving him a playful twirl and a little show.

"Untie me. Now," he demands, his voice rough and dark with desire.

"But that would ruin the gift," you faux pout, very much enjoying his reactions.

"Baby," he growls, his voice dropping even lower.

"Yes?" you reply, grinning ear to ear.

"Untie me."

"Nope."

His biceps flex as he strains against the silk, the material digging into his skin. Your eyes light up as an idea strikes you. Giggling to yourself, you grab your phone and open the camera app. The moment was too perfect not to capture. Mingyu's dark, intense gaze follows you as you snap a few pictures, his expression a mix of irritation and something far more primal.

"You look so pretty like this, Gyu," you croon, unable to hide your amusement.

"Alright, fun's over, babygirl. Untie me. Now," he growls, his patience wearing thin.

"Oh, but we're just getting started, my dearest Mingyu," you smirk, your voice dripping with playful defiance.

His eyes track you as you walk over to the cupboard and pull out another red silk ribbon, this one shorter than the one binding him. You return to the bed, straddling him once more, a mischievous grin plastered across your face.

"One last surprise," you whisper against his ear, your breath warm as you tie the ribbon around his eyes, blindfolding him.

Leaning back, you take in the full picture—your strong, dominant boyfriend, now completely at your mercy, tied up and blindfolded—your masterpiece is finally complete.

Another growl rumbles from Mingyu's throat as he tugs at his restraints, clearly caught off guard by the blindfold.

"Do you like your blindfold?" you tease.

"No," he grumbles and keeps on tugging. The irritation in his voice only makes you laugh.

"Don't worry," you murmur, "it's only going to get better from here."

"With you? Doubt it." His voice is thick with irritation, but you catch the underlying tension—the way his muscles coil in tension (and anticipation) underneath the silk.

A slow grin curls your lips as you settle back, spreading your legs just outside of his. Beneath you, Mingyu is tense—waiting for the start of the finale.

Biting hard on your bottom lip, you shift your panties aside, slightly embarrassed by how soaked they are. God, the effect he has on you. With a shaky breath, you slide a finger inside, the wet sound obscenely loud in the quiet room.

Mingyu's head tilts, his entire body locking up.

"Baby…what are you doing?"

"G-Guess," you whimper, beginning to move your fingers in slow, deliberate strokes. "If you get it r-right I'll give you another surprise."

A moan slips free as you add a second finger, and you catch the exact moment realisation hits him—his jaw starts clenching, his breaths laboured and hitching.

"Figured it out yet?" You let out a breathy laugh, quickening the pace of your fingers, slick sounds filling the air.

"Babygirl—" His voice drops to a growl, his body straining against the silk holding him in place.

The deep, rough edge of his tone sends a thrill through you, your own moans mingling with the sounds of your fingers fucking into yourself. Your gaze drags over his body—his every muscle taut, his cock hard and dripping against his stomach. Unable to resist, you lean down, swiping your tongue across the tip just to hear him groan, his hips jerking helplessly.

"Gyu, I'm close," you pant, the tight coil in your stomach winding tighter.

"Don't you dare cum," he warns.

You let out a whimpering laugh, the hand currently not inside you circling your clit, determined to push yourself over the edge.

"Fuck!" Your back arches as you come, your release coating your fingers—and spraying Mingyu.

Catching your breath, you shift to straddle him properly, bringing your glistening fingers to his lips.

"Open wide," you purr.

With a low groan, he obeys, sucking your fingers clean, his tongue laving over every drop.

"Untie me," he murmurs against your skin, "and I'll make you cum at least three times with my mouth."

"Tempting," you hum, trailing a finger down his chest. "But I'm not done with your gift yet."

You hurriedly push your panties aside, leaving yourself completely bare. Straddling Mingyu's waist, you sink down, your wetness pressing against his toned abs with a gasp. The moment he realises what's happening, a low growl rumbles in his chest. Your hands brace against his shoulders as you start to move, slow at first, then with growing need.

"G-Gyu—" Your voice trembles, pleasure already coiling tight in your stomach.

Your hips roll faster, your slick coating his skin, making it shine under the dim light.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, head falling back.

His muscles flex beneath you, the friction sending sparks through your nerves. His jaw is clenched, breath ragged—he's barely holding on.

"Let me at least see you, please," he grits out, voice strained.

Taking pity, you reach up and tug off his blindfold. Mingyu blinks, adjusting to the light before his gaze locks onto you—his eyes darkening as he watches your hips work, your arousal dripping down his stomach.

The hunger in his stare only makes you wetter, your movements growing more frantic, chasing another release.

"Yeah, just like that. Use me, babygirl," he growls, and the sound goes straight to your core.

"Gyu, I'm gonna—!" Your nails dig into his shoulders.

"Do it. Make a mess all over me."

His words snap the last thread of control. You cry out as pleasure crashes through you, your body shuddering. Dragging him into a desperate kiss, you swallow his moan, still trembling from your high.

Then—fabric rips.

Suddenly, you're on your back, Mingyu caging you beneath him.

"Had your fun, babygirl?" His grin is all wicked amusement.

"You—how?" you stammer, stunned.

Mingyu only smirks before capturing your lips once more. His movements are hungry, primal—any illusion of control you had is long gone.

One large hand pins both of yours above your head as his lips trail hot kisses down your jaw. His free hand tugs your bralette down, baring your breasts, and a whine escapes you when he pinches a nipple between his fingers.

"I asked if you had fun torturing me, baby," he purrs, twisting it just a little harder.

"Ah! Y-Yes!" Your back arches, desperate for more.

He chuckles against your skin before his mouth closes over one breast, sucking hard while his fingers tease the other. You moan, writhing under his touch—until he suddenly hooks your leg over his shoulder and slams into you without warning.

Your eyes roll back. Mingyu's big, always so careful to prep you first, but tonight, you've pushed him too far.

His hips piston into you relentlessly, as his mouth and hands work your breasts. You're pinned, overwhelmed, your mind melting under the sheer pleasure of him filling you, stretching you, owning you.

"Please let me cum, please!" you sob, teetering on the edge.

"No." His teeth graze your neck. "You don't get to."

"P-Please, I can't—!" Tears spill as you struggle beneath him, but his grip is iron, his pace unyielding.

"You didn't untie me when I asked," he growls, "so now you don't get to cum."

You whimper and thrash, but his huge body is pressed against yours, reducing you to nothing but gasps and broken moans. You try—god, you try—to hold back, but the pleasure crashes over you, your body convulsing as you shatter anyway.

Dazed, you blink up at him, barely registering his scowl before his hand grips your jaw.

"Didn't I say no?" His voice is dangerously low.

"'M sorry—"

A dark laugh. "Count."

Then he's flipping you over, and you know you're in for it.

A sharp smack echoes through the room, followed by a stinging burn across your backside. Then another lands—harder this time.

"I said fucking count," Mingyu growls, delivering another punishing strike with his broad hand.

"T-Three!" you stammer, tears already streaking down your cheeks.

"Looks like you're finally learning to follow orders," he sneers before landing another blow.

"F-Four," you whimper, the mix of pain and pleasure sending shivers down your spine. You know your ass will ache tomorrow, but right now, you're too lost in the haze of sensation to care.

The next few smacks come in quick succession, each one fiercer than the last, until you're nothing but a trembling, sobbing mess. He clicks his tongue, his hand soothing the heated skin with a gentle rub.

"I'm not done with you yet, babygirl," he murmurs.

A choked moan escapes you as he pushes inside again, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. His thrusts rock your entire body, leaving no room for thought—just Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu echoing in your mind. A low whine builds in your throat as another orgasm coils tight inside you.

"Gonna cum again, baby?" he groans, feeling you clench around him.

You nod desperately, too far gone to speak. Mingyu chuckles at your wrecked state.

"Go on, babygirl. Let go for me," he purrs.

And just like that, you shatter again. Pleasure whites out your vision, your ears ringing as your body convulses around him. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release before finally spilling into you with a deep moan. For a moment, all you hear is the panting of heavy breaths—then he collapses on top of you, pulling you into a crushing embrace.

"Mingyu! You're heavy!" you complain halfheartedly.

"Don't care," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

You sigh but don't push him off. His weight is oddly comforting, like a human-weighted blanket.

"…How did you even get loose?" you murmur after a beat.

"Was never tied up in the first place, baby," he admits with a laugh, fingers carding through your hair.

"What?!" Your eyes widen. "So all that struggling against the ropes—"

"—was just for show," he grins. "You put so much effort into tying me up. Didn't wanna ruin your fun."

You pout. "I'll get you next time, Kim Mingyu."

"Good luck with that, babygirl," he teases.

"At least tell me you liked your present," you huff.

"Loved it," he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Put on quite the performance for me."

"You better be grateful. I worked hard on it," you mutter petulantly.

"Mmhm, thank you, my precious baby," he coos, sealing your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

You grin against his mouth, whispering, "Happy Birthday, Gyu."

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @junnhuisworld @horangipower17 @cheolsbb26 @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96 @smiileflower @yumyumcoo

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gojonanami · 1 year ago

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❝ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐃 ! ❞

❝ A GOOD GIRL SUMMONING THE KING OF CURSES -- WHAT COULD GO WRONG? ❞

✧ pairing: heian form! ryomen sukuna x good girl! reader

✧ summary: you've always been a goody two shoes -- or so your friends say -- so what happens when you decide to do the first bad thing you've ever attempted and try summoning a demon -- and it actually works?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, dub/con / non/con (dead dove, do not eat), reader summons sukuna accidentally, monster fucking, corruption kink, reader is a virgin, dom! sukuna, heian form! sukuna, four arms, mouth stomach, size kink, oral (f + m) (f receiving via mouth stomach), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, degradation kink (slut, whore), overstimulation (f! receiving), description of violence (no violence happens), art by @/danXL4 (on dA), dividers by @/saradika

✧ wc: 4,916

Summon a demon in your apartment, they said. It would be fun, they said.

‘They’ meaning your stupid ass friends who were too fucking scared to stay here with you while you did it.

Maybe you should’ve thought this through, preferably before you sat in a circle of blood (animal blood taken humanely that could not be used — don’t worry, you weren’t completely insane), and painted the symbols around the circle in the living room, your carpet rolled up, and on the precipice of unfurling, and your coffee table pushed aside.

Your phone buzzed with messages in your group chat:

Don’t do this, girl.

Another message.

What if it’s real? I don’t want something to happen to you - like I rather not have this on my conscience

What heartfelt pleas, you shook your head, as you put your phone on ‘do not disturb,’ and propped it up before opening the camera app and hitting record.

Your fucking friends — it was all their fault to begin with.

You grit your teeth, you are tired of being boring. You were always studying, always coming home early, always getting to class on time, always the fucking good girl, never getting fucked up or fucked for that matter. And your friends always taunted you for it — told you that you never lived a day in your life, that you’d always live sheltered in your apartment with your books and your streaming apps (which, you admitted, did sound pretty good to you) — but you wanted to prove them wrong.

All the fuck they did that was daring was go to supposedly haunted sights and get the piss scared out of them — like yeah, that really was the wind, not some fucking ghost. If it was a ghost, pretty sure they would choose someone better to haunt — not a bunch of fucking pussies.

You needed better friends.

So for once — if only to get them to shut up — you wanted to do something crazy.

You don’t know why a demon summoning was the hill you had chosen to die on, but you already climbed your way to the top of the hill, you supposed, so you might as well die on it. You looked through the Reddit thread you found on demon summoning (of course the most reliable of sources), looking over the incantation you were supposed to read, as you turned on your camera.

Fuck. This was going to fucking dumb. You grabbed your lighter, lining up your candles around the circle, before kneeling in front of it.

“To summon the King of Curses,” you read before you scoffed, what the fuck were you doing? ‘The King of Curses’ — they couldn’t even come up with anything more creative than that? Like no latin? Or even japanese folklore — no, instead the most generic ass of names, “To summon the King of Curses, you must read the following incantation,” you glance at your phone’s camera with lips pursed — you were going to prove a point — but why did it feel so goddamn stupid?

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, as you suck in air between your teeth, and sighed, before reading the incantation: “Rise, Disgraced One — Oh, the King of the Golden Age that reigned supreme,” there was a chill that grazed the back of your neck, a slight breeze that raises goosebumps along your skin, “Open the Gate of Hell and let the King corrupt you. Fuga,”

The flames on the candles shoot to the ceiling, as a scream lodges itself in your throat, as you barely scramble back enough to avoid getting your face burned off. The fire licks the ceiling, and a thick cloud of smoke floods your apartment, sweeping through the apartment, as you begin to cough, eyes burning with tears.

“What the fuck—“ you reach for your phone in your pocket only to realize it’s still set up to record in that fucking mess of flames. You’re frozen, as you stand trying to recall what they taught you about fire safety growing up — is opening a window a good thing or a bad thing? Where’s the fire alarm? Do you even have a fire extinguisher? Thinking dangerous things through wasn’t your specialty, you supposed because you never did them.

Fuck, if you died, you would become a fucking ghost and haunt your friends.

But the flames ebb away, leaving some scorch marks on the ceiling (fun thing to explain to your landlord), as your lungs struggled to cope with the flood of smoke dispersing, the cloud so thick, you could barely see your hand in front of your face. The haze seared at your throat, drawing a smoker’s cough from your lungs, while your eyes could barely open, waterlogged by the sheer amount of tears spilling.

You gently wipe tears away from your eyes, as you blink them away, until you stumble to your window to throw it open, coughing, as you stick your head out.

“What the fuck,” you mumble, throat raw — was it the candles you bought? Were the candles somehow really fucking defective? Or did you somehow actually summon a demon? You snort, no, it was probably the candles. You leaned against the window sill, letting the smoke escape — as you finally were able to breathe again.

You sigh, shutting the window, turning back around — only to find four eyes staring back.

He was huge. A hulking mass of muscles, four arms, instead of two, and each one was possibly wider than your head, no shirt or covering to find the exposed skin — his dark blue pants hung low around his waist and above it was a weird groove in the middle of his stomach.

Your eyes raise as he lifts his arm, as you flinch, but he only rakes his fingers through his dark pink hair, pushing it back roughly. showing off the hands of black around the middle of his bicep and his wrists. Broken lines wrap down from his shoulders into jagged points that end in the middle of his chest. Black dots adorn the sides of his shoulders, hollow vacuums that stared back at you.

Two eyes on each side of his face — but his right eyes were raised, as if he bore a mask made of wood or raised skin — you didn’t know which — fused to his face. But something told you — as you took a step back — it wasn’t something you wanted to find out.

“Are you the brat who dared to summon me?” And you freeze at the sound of his voice, ringing with such a weight, it nearly brought you to your knees. Your eyes fell to the ground, unable to bring yourself to look at him — your heart rattling against your ribs. His presence was a pressure, the air around you seemed to still, his voice ringing in your ears. Your muscles were drawn taut, unable to move — shivers ripping down your spine.

“Yes,” you manage a whisper only, resisting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut.

He gives a small chuckle, “So submissive for the one who dared to summon me,” his heavy footsteps out of the circle, melts the candles beside his foot to puddles of wax, “it has been eons since I’ve been able to roam free—“ he inhales, as you stand frozen, hearing his hulking form drawing even closer, “I can smell the humans, roaming free, wriggling like worms in the crevices of this place — I can’t wait to massacre them,” and then he pauses a moment, as he considers you.

“Brat, look at me,” you swallow, as your head slowly rises to meet his gaze, his form towering over you, standing two steps away from you, letting you dwell in the void of his shadow, “tell me, what did you use to summon me?”

You blink, “I found it—I don’t know—“

“Read it to me,” he orders — there’s no option to disobey, unless you’d love to be met with certain death. So you move slowly to your laptop, reading the incantation again, “‘and let the King corrupt you. Fuga,”

His eyes narrow, as a slow smirk settles over his features, a smirk that sends an icy chill down your spine, “Woman, you have no idea what you’ve done, have you?”

Two of his arms are crossed while one of the other’s reaches for you — and your eyes shut now — you are surely dead, but instead of a hand around your neck, you feel fingers grip your chin.

You wait for the embrace of death (at least maybe you’d find better friends in the afterlife), but it never comes, instead you hear a deep chuckle, as another arm curls around your waist and brings you flush to him, “You humans are so tiny, so fragile, one wrong move and i could break you,” and another large hand is slipping down the curves of your body, “I suppose I’ll have to be a little careful — only for this to work, and I suppose for your benefit as well,” and your eyes finally dare to open and peek at him, only for his face to draw near, breath warming your lips, “I’m going to savor corrupting you, little one,”

“What the fuck—“ you try to break away, but his grip is like iron shackles around your wrists, as he forces your arms around his waist, caged in by his own arms, “please let me go—“

Before you can even finish your plea, his lips meet yours, swallowing your gasp with a smirk. His large hands around your waist left no space for retreat, not that you’d make it far even if you tried. His kiss sent a slow burning heat throughout your body, a spark that grew in your belly that ignited when his tongue slid into your mouth. His touch only added fuel to the flame — his hands skimming over your sides slowly like warm honey sliding down your skin.

He parts your kiss ruined lips, not before his teeth bite down on your bottom lip, a smirk on his lips as he sees your saliva slip down the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted and puffy as he drags his thumb down them, eyes blown out with pleasure.

“That’s it, give in,” and the haze that settles over you is thick and unforgiving, unable to see anything but the King of Curses before you and unable to need anything but pleasure at his hands.

“Please,” a small hint of resistance remained stubbornly — you couldn’t let this monster have his way with you — for fuck’s sake, much less lose your virginity to him, “I can’t,”

“But you want to,” he hums, as large fingers tug at your flimsy shorts, the fabric tearing with ease, until it was in shreds, a shiver running up your spine at the thought that your limbs could have been too, “your mouth says one thing, brat, but your lower lips,” a thick finger presses at the wet patch on your panties, rubbing against your puffy clit, “say another,”

You whimper, as his finger bears down harshly through the thin fabric, “please,” you swallow, as he leans down to lick the drool from your lips, “please—“

“Please, what, little one?” he chuckles, as he presses wet kisses up your jaw, “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me,” your knees are beginning to buckle, as the ache between your legs only grows, “I know you must look pretty when you cry, so do you want to cry for me, brat?” and his piercing gaze nearly brings you tears along, “because I can give you something to cry about,”

“Do you ever shut up?” you mutter, but that only seems to make the corner of his lip tug upwards.

“I can make you shut up,” And two hands squeeze your hips roughly, while another slips under your shirt, “No undercovering? It’s as if you wanted this all long,” he chides, a huff in his voice, as his finger teases your pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling, drawing a yelp from your lips, “hoping for an incubus or some other curse or demon?” he’s tugging down his pants, revealing his dick—-if you could call it that.

Fuck, was that a cock or another appendage all together? Far thicker and longer than any male anatomy you’ve seen depicted or described in even the filthiest corners of the internet — pretty veins running up the sides, as a mess of pre-cum dripped off the engorged tip, flushed red with need.

“Why did you summon me?” he demands to know as he leans down to take a nipple between his lips, and you know you have no choice but to answer.

“I wanted to prove to my friends that I wasn’t—” it was so pathetic now, as you stood before a literal deity of death, “wasn’t just a good girl,”

He chuckles, a bark more than a laugh almost, as you swallow thickly as your eyes can’t tear away from the sight of his dick — would he kill you with it instead of his hands?

“Well, you aren’t anymore are you?” he scoffs, and you fail to notice his hand shifting to tug your underwear off, a gasp ripped from you, as another hand brushed against your bare cunt roughly, “Look at how fucking wet you are already, slut, so much already leaking all over my fingers,” he shows you the strings of pre-cum connecting his fingers, before he brings his fingers to his lips and his tongue darts out to lick them clean, “I’d say no respectable woman would be dripping this much if she was so good,” he hums, before sighing mockingly, “although, perhaps I should preserve your sanctity, even a little. It would be unfortunate to leave you like this — even more so, to leave myself like this, but if that is truly what’s for the best—“ his grip begins to loosen, but your fingers find his shoulder.

Two words manage to leave your lips — and you don’t know whether it’s that you’re under his spell or under your own — but you know that you need this “Don’t go,”

His lips curl. He wasn’t going to begin with — but it was so much easier if you gave in.

~~~

“C’mon little one, you were so eager only a moment ago,” The King of Curses chides, amusement threaded through his tone from behind you, watching as you nearly straddled his stomach — though you had realized it wasn’t just a stomach. A tongue flicked out over lips that formed over the middle of his abdomen, right under you.

“I didn’t know—“ your cheeks warmed, your walls fluttering at that thought of that tongue against your leaking cunt.

“Yet you’re so eager,” he scoffs, before using a large hand to tug you against it as two hands settle against your waist to hold you in place, “and I’ve run out of patience, so be a good whore and take my cock,” and he’s pushing your head down, sharp fingernails digging into your scalp, as his large cock slaps your face, smearing his pre cum over your cheek and lips.

Your lips part, the tip of your tongue tracing his weeping slit, drawing a hiss from his lips, before your mouth engulfs the head, while your fingers curl around his thick base. And as you do, you feel his tongue drag over the length of your cunt, making you gasp around his cock.

His mouth and tongue are even larger than the one on his face, slurping and sucking, as his tongue begins to work its way inside your needy cunt.

“Don’t slack, brat,” his hand pushing your head further down on his cock, nearly burying your face in his pubes, “come on, do a good job, and I may even give you the pleasure of being fucked by me,”

You force yourself to focus on sucking his cock, tracing the pretty veins with your tongue, before suckling at the tip, savoring the groan you draw from his lips. The squelch of your cunt as his tongue begins to fuck you open, thicker than even four of your fingers, fills your ears. Two of his hands find your tits, tweaking and twisting your nipples, squeezing as he presses the flat of his palms against your breasts, only for tongues to dart out from his palms. You gasp around his length, as his other mouths suck at your tits, swirling their tongue around it.

His hips jerk against your mouth when your fingers cup his balls, and he thrusts, “You can do better,” he grunts, as his tip grazes your throat, his mouth closing around your clit and sucking, hard, and you’re grinding on his abs and mouth now, toes curling as you cum, and his mouth only eagerly swallows it, the sticky release coating his abs.

His cock twitches in your mouth as you moan around it, as you recover from your orgasm, beginning to suck at his cock, nearly high off the pleasure, as you fondle his balls, bobbing your head up and down, until he’s finally groaning, his hot release flooding your mouth.

“Don’t waste a drop,” he growls, as you swallow it, blissed out and panting, as your lips leave his weeping cock, slapping against your cheek as he lifts you easily and places you on your back, “don’t tell me you’re done after that, little one,” and your eyes slide down to see his somehow still erect dick, standing tall as he kneels on your bed, his hulking form burying you in his shadow, “because I’m far from done yet,” his cock twitches at the sight of your lips, a swollen mess from sucking him off, a mix of his cum and your saliva all over your face.

“Please, I can’t—“ you whine, shaking your head, but two hands are already spreading your folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as if already craving to have his dick buried in it.

“Your cunt seems to disagree, little one,” as he drags a thick digit around your clit, before pinching it, as you keen under his touch, “you’re drenched for me, begging for me to take you,” and his thumb is now rubbing circles around your puffy clit while he sinks a finger into you knuckle deep, “I just have to make sure you can fit me in this tight hole of yours,” your head falls back against the pillow as he’s knuckle deep, another large finger already pushing into your slick walls, “still so tight despite all the time I took to open you up,” he clicked his tongue, a smirk on his lips, as his fingers find the spongy spot that makes your fingers fist at the sheets, as your release squirts over his fingers, your body boneless as pleasure buzzes through every inch of your body, until you finally start come down.

But as soon as you even begin to, his fingers begin to move again, fucking you through your orgasm, and quickly into another.

“Ngh, no, no, not yet—” your voice is caught in your throat, words leaving your lips in a hurry because you know surely his fingers would rip any coherent thought from your mind in a moment.

But he does not relent, only finger fucking you harder, “I have to be careful to open you up, otherwise, I very well may break you in two, wouldn’t I? Such fragile things, you humans are — already squealing? I haven’t even added a third finger yet,” he scoffs, as he hums, “have you not been deflowered yet, brat?”

And your pussy gives a telltale flutter that only has his lips curling further, a flash of his canines sending a chill down your spine, “I-I—”

“No need for your answer, pet, your body gave me the answer itself,” he hums, “then this will take a bit longer than I thought—” as his fingers curl and drag over your walls, before scissoring apart, “I’d prefer for you to be conscious when I take your virginity, but I don’t mind if you’re not,”

And a fourth finger presses at your slick hole, making you whimper, “Please, I can’t—” but he does not relent, four fingers now fucking you open, as your mouth parts in a silent scream, back arching as they work you open. Your body lies on slick drenched sheets, the smell and sound of your arousal only making his need grow, holding back if only not to ruin you completely — he needed you still, needed this to work. And he wasn’t sure what’d happen if he’d break you completely — and he knew he could far too easily. Already he could feel your blood rushing under his touch, the small gasps and moans could turn to screams with just a finger barely lifted, the slick painted over with scarlet.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. Not when he’s so close. And soon enough he won’t need you — but he can only cross that bridge when he gets there.

Or rather, when you get there.

~~~

“Brat, c’mon, keep your eyes open, we’re almost there,” Sukuna barks, as his fingers grip your chin, and force your gaze to him. How many orgasms had he given you? Seven or eight ? Maybe more. Sweat and cum clung to your skin, sticky and hot, as he continued to fuck you open, “think this virgin hole is finally ready for my cock, listen to it,” the loud squelch of your cunt as he thrust his fingers in and out had almost become white noise to you — and the sweet stretch of your pussy around his fingers had become second nature.

And finally he’s pulling his fingers from you, digits shiny and dripping with your release, sliding down your palm and wrist, as he brought them to his mouth to lick it clean, before offering it to his mouth on his stomach as well. He watches you all fucked out before him, legs spread along with your cunt that fluttered around nothing, waiting for him to slot his cock between your folds and sink in. He grunts, fuck, his balls still feel so full, even after cumming down your throat, aching to cum in your sweet cunt, see him fill your womb with his seed, the sweet release he had been craving for far too long.

“You still want my cock still, little one? Or are you too tired for it now?” he drags his leaking cock over your dripping folds, letting it tease your swollen clit as his pre cum mixes with your own, “maybe I should leave you like this, let you beg and beg for me until you’re writhing for me,”

You’re panting, the ache inside your pussy too much for you to bear — you were melting without him inside, the only thing to quench your need, your thirst — he was the only thing that could even begin to make it ebb.

“Please, please, my King,” your words are nearly sobs, pretty tears slipping down your cheeks, as your chest heaves with need — want far gone several hours ago, leaving only you with a desperation that would drive you mad, “I need you, need you take me, need you to fuck me,”

And his lips curl, “I thought you’d never ask, brat,” and he’s settling himself between your parted legs, pressing them back against your stomach, “although even if you didn’t, I’d help myself — because you summoned me after all, didn’t you, little one?” As he uses another arm to cup your chin, “watch me as I sink into you,”

Your cunt quivers as he presses his head to your entrance, as he uses your slick to wet his cock, “I’ll go slow at first, but once I’m inside, I have no intention of stopping, no matter how much you beg,”

It was a warning, a warning that there was no going back — but there was no going back from the moment you summoned this curse onto your doorstep — there was a descent into depravity, and how quickly you’d make it to the bottom.

The tip of his cock barely parts your folds, and you’re already whining about how full it feels — your walls fluttering as if trying to either accommodate his girth or push him out all together. He saw the faint drip of scarlet as he worked himself in, inch by inch — as your fingers found purchase in his forearms, nails digging crescents into his flesh.

“F-fuck, ngh, Too big, Sukuna, I can’t—“ and he can already feel your pussy give the telltale flutter of an orgasm, a cry ripped from your throat, as you cum, walls only pulling him in deeper and deeper — as if they never wanted to let go.

And finally, finally, he bottoms out, his hips pressed flush to your aching cunt, and he stills — it had been so long since he had enjoyed the body of a virgin, but he was sure you were the sweetest and tightest cunt he’d ever had.

Your cries made him scoff, tears streaming down your ruined face, it made his cock twitch —you were so small compared to him, a tiny pebble waiting to be crushed, but instead he held you in the palm of his hand. You were his to have, his to break, and his to corrupt.

“I told you there was no stopping,” he grunts as another hand settles on your stomach, on top of the slight bulge that came with his cock sinking into you, “can you feel me touching the deepest parts of you?” And he takes the whimper as a yes, “get accustomed to it, because this cunt shall be my breeding ground for as long as I see fit,”

And he finally pulls out only to sink back into your sweet depths, knocking the breath from your lungs. He starts slow, if only to spare you from breaking — because he knows so easily could. The wet squelch of your cunt rings in his ears, as he watches his thick cock sink in and out of your pussy again and again.

“Look at you, barely able to take my fingers and now you’re taking my cock so well,” he groans at the sight of your stretched pussy, as it took his cock over and over, molding its very shape to his length, as the slap of your skin against his became like a metronome, “such a perfect little whore, aren’t you?” and you moaned at his words, the sound of which made your cheeks burn with shame — “don’t worry, even if you aren’t, little one,” his fingers find your clit, rubbing and twisting until you come again, hard, your back arching as you do, fingernails nearly drawing blood from his arms as you do.

He hums, as he only fucks you through your orgasm, even as you try to squirm away from him, it’s all in vain — because you’re his now, “Oi, brat, where are you going? You won’t like what I’ll do if you try to get away again — your only place now is under me,” and his hands find his way under your ass as he shifts you onto his lap, “or on this throne,” and he fucks into you, brutally, again and again, your arms clinging around his neck desperately, as a hand on the back of your head guides your lips to his, “tongue out,” he orders, and you do as he says, as the two of you meet in a sloppy kiss.

And his hands shift to your hips, bruising as they help you ride him, meeting his thrusts with your own, until he’s finally hitting your cervix that has you squirting, drenching him in your release as your walls shudder around him. And his lips leave yours a moment, before they kiss down your jaw to your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a yelp from your lips.

He groans, a guttural noise from his chest, as he notches himself as deep as he can before cumming, his hot release spurting out and painting your walls, as he continues to fuck it deeper and deeper, the snaps of his hips finally slowing, as he pulls away from your neck, enjoying the blood that pools in the ridges of his bite mark.

“Such a good little slut, aren’t you?” he hums, as he cups your lolling head, eyes thick with sleep and body heavy with exhaustion, you hear his quiet voice murmur, “I was only going to corrupt you for the sake of completing the summons you gave — I had no choice if I wanted to stay on this plane, but,” he hums, as pulls his cock from you with a gasp on your lips, before he has you flipped onto your stomach in a moment, sheathing his thick length back into you in one thrust, “I think I just might keep you, brat,” your eyes flutter shut, as his words fade from your consciousness, until a mean spank to your ass jolts you from your retreat into Hypnos’s arms.

No — as you turned your head ever so slowly to get Sukuna’s face in your periphery — you only answered to one god now.

The King of Curses’ lips curled in a cruel smirk, as he drew his hips back before slamming back in, “Let’s show the world truly how depraved you are, brat, hm? Together.”

✧ a/n: this is my first time writing sukuna so i hope i was able to do him justice. i was gonna do the whole two dick thing, but i was already like...this is complicated enough lmao.

✧ taglist: @pricetagofficial, @kentocalls, @angie-1306, @fayyyrieee, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz, @viveriens, @sunflowmaryam, @eclipsephase, @merrymonkey, @leilannnnnnni, @spider-fan72, @temptationville, @gojos-princesa, @yell0wdreams, @achelliescomedown, @hiyori-ii, @bunninio, @grunge-mo0n, @diogodxlot, @littlecrybabys-world, @esuz, @unnamedflwr, @lemonpoppy-seed, @corkedscrewslocked, @bsaeshell, @methodofawesome, @rinvrin, @noveltywilbur, @ch0c0bsess, @sarcasticbitchsblog, @simpingnbitching, @aethyrite, @aitheria, @sweetpanda15, @daddytojji, @kindadolly, @kimnamjoonsbigtoe, @catsgomurp, @dhoranbolt, @kariatenoh, @hanxyy

#sab [mlist]#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna fanfiction #ryomen sukuna fanfiction

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sturnioz · 1 year ago

Text

‘RAW’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, established relationship au.

word count. 3.5k

❝so, i can just slide right in, feel you… fill you up…❞

content warnings. explicit content, starts with sweet!matt then spirals to pussy drunk!matt, unprotected sex, creampie, heavy use of the petnames 'sweetheart' and 'baby', dirty talking, matt is also kinda goofy in this.

“I’ve missed you.” Matt mouths at your skin, his arms tight around your waist as he pulls you against his chest, breathing in the scent of your body wash and perfume as he nuzzles his head into the crevice of your neck.

You smile warmly, melting into his embrace as your fingers lace through his curls and he hums at the soft tugs you give, sucking and nipping at the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Ow,” You hiss through giggles as Matt bites down a little too hard at your skin and your body angles away from him, only for him to whine and try to draw you back to him, muttering an apology against your neck as he tightens his hold on you. “We can’t stand here all day, Matt.”

Matt huffs as if what you’ve said is something so offensive that hurts his feelings, and his shoulders sag as he reluctantly lets you go, but slips his hand into your own instead, intertwining your fingers as he allows you to pull him to a more suitable place than your front door.

He drags his sock covered feet across the floorboards as he takes in your home, a comforting warmth spreads through his chest.

Matt misses being at your place; that sweet, familiar smell of a candle that was previously burning fills his senses, the hum of the TV playing your favourite show in the background, the subtle misplaced ornaments and potted plants that you’ve picked up to move or to admire.

He takes a quick glance at your kitchen as he passes it, noticing a dish and bowl soaking in soapy water, and he smiles when knowing you have eaten already. He wonders if it was something delicious or filling for you.

He wants to ask what it could’ve been, but the question remains on the tip of his tongue as you’re pulling him towards the direction of your bedroom.

And that’s when he feels most at home.

The bag that was once resting on his shoulders slumps to the ground and mindlessly kicked to the side as his body finally relaxes, the tiredness that he’s so used to pushing to the back of his mind comes front and centre as he sluggishly makes his way towards the unmade bed, sitting himself down on the edge.

The hand that’s holding yours pulls you forward to stand between his parted legs, and he rests his cheek on your stomach as he embraces you like he once did a few minutes prior, exhaling happily as your fingers resume playing with his curly hair.

“How was the trip?”

“Good,” Matt’s tone is quiet and gentle. “Nick was actin’ as our tour guide and was takin’ us to all these cool places,” He moves his head a little to look up at you, resting his chin on your stomach. “I took some pictures for you—ones I haven’t sent you yet.”

You’re more than eager to see what pictures Matt wants to show you, and you gentle push him up the bed for him to lay comfortably and he giggles, reaching his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone while his arm curls around you, holding you close to his side and pressing his lips to the top of your head, finding comfort in the scent of your shampoo.

He unlocks his phone, clicks the camera roll app and your eyes widen in excitement at seeing all the recent photos Matt failed to show you previously.

You’re in awe watching him scroll through the photos; some of him and his brothers, amateur photoshoots, and the scenery and the colours of skies leaves you speechless, hanging onto every word as he tells you the story behind them all, some comical and others sweet and endearing.

“Seein’ this one, like, reminded me of you, y’know,” He whispers against your head as he shows you a picture of a sunset, a blend of pinks and oranges making your heart flutter. “It’s pretty—calmin’, makes me feel at ease. It made me miss you even more than I already did, was killin’ me.”

“You called me every night.” You remind him, letting out a laugh as he groans and rolls his eyes, throwing his phone to the side before gripping your hips and pulling your body on top of his. He massages your thighs with his fingers, kneading the skin as they settle on each of his sides.

“You know it’s not the same,” Matt argues, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “I love hearin’ your voice over the phone but, come on, havin’ you there with me physically means more to me. I get to hold you, I get to touch you… I get to kiss you.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Matt hums with a short nod of his head before he lifts his head up to meet your lips in a short but sweet kiss, squeezing your thighs once you reciprocate and he grins against your lips when he feels your hands cradle his cheeks.

Then, you feel it.

His hard cock pressing your inner thigh, twitching with each subtle movement of your hips as you rest your entire weight down on him, eliciting a grunt due to the pressure on his cock.

“Are you tired?” You pull away from his lips to ask him, biting back the smile that threatens to spread across your cheeks as Matt follows, wanting your mouth back on his.

“A bit,” He admits, exhaling deeply. “But I don’t care. Just wan’ you.”

Warmth fills your chest, “You want me?”

“Yeah, bad. So bad.”

You don’t have time to swoon over his words as he’s already leaning up and reconnecting your lips in a much deeper kiss, biting down on your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth to glide across your own all while his hands sip around to grab at your ass, pulling you even closer so that you’re pressed against him fully.

You kiss for a while, relishing in the way his lips feel on yours, familiar with the slow and unrushed pace he takes. Your hand curls around the front of his shirt, signalling for him to take it off immediately and he grins against your mouth, breaking the kiss for a moment to allow you to pull the material over his head.

He gives you a toothy smile, his eyes twinkling with adoration as he stares up at you and his fingers twitch over the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off and you happily give him permission to do so, raising your arms in the air.

Matt tugs it off, throwing it carelessly to the side before his hands caress your skin, palms hot and clammy as he brings you in for another kiss, one that is more desperate and needy.

Matt’s moaning shamelessly into your mouth when your hands dip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, your fist curling around his cock and giving him a few experimental pumps that has him almost draw blood on your lip when he bites down a little too hard.

“Easy.” You hum with a giggle and Matt groans, craning his neck as he throws his head back against the pillows, tongue licking his bottom lip as your hand squeezes around his cock.

He lifts his hips as you begin to rid him of the rest of his clothing, and you awkwardly manoeuvre above him, laughing as you almost topple over but you remain seated thanks for the hold he has on your hips.

“You go easy, sweetheart.” Matt teases you this time and you roll your eyes.

You drop your hands from his to finally peel off the rest of your own clothes and he watches you with hooded lids, one hand resting behind his head with the other wraps around his cock to jerk himself off as he takes in the sight of your naked body—something he’s seen plenty times before but he views it as if it’s the first time, absorbing himself in your curves, the swell of your breasts and your pretty pussy.

You raise a brow, “Like what you see.”

Matt grins, “Always.”

You get a little shy at his compliment but continue to lean forwards to capture his lips in a kiss which he immediately reciprocates, his hand resting on the back of your neck to keep you still against his lips, and he moans as your tongue slips inside his mouth to touch his own.

He’s still touching himself between your bodies, hips fucking up into his fist and gasping in your mouth when the tip grazes over your skin, the sensitivity sending goosebumps down his spine.

You pull away from his lips much to his dismay, and he tries to pull you back in but falters when he sees you making your way down his body, leaving a trail of kisses behind which makes him moan again, his mouth falling slack as he feels your tongue lick a clean stripe down his navel.

Your fingers brush over his inner thighs, smiling when his cock twitches against his stomach. You stroke further and further up his skin before your fingers grip his cock, hearing the slight hiss he makes through gritted teeth.

You hum softly, leaning in closer to wrap your lips around his tip.

“Ah—fuck, wait!” Matt suddenly speaks up and you stop in surprise, bringing your gaze up from his cock to his face, and he reaches his hand down to touch your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. He looks like he’s in pain, but he explains; “I’ll cum too quickly if you suck my cock, seriously. I will cum the second I feel your tongue on me again.”

That makes you even more eager to shove his cock down your throat, and you tighten your fingers around the base which elicits a gasp from his lips. “I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” Matt weakly pushes your hand away, and his cock slaps back against his stomach. His hips jerk upwards at the sudden contact, “Oh fuck—sweetheart, I’ve been waitin’ for this for so long. I want to cum fuckin’ you—please, I just—” Matt winces as his hand comes down to cup his balls, almost as if he’s trying to stop himself from cumming right then and there from his own words. “I wan’ to fuck you, baby.”

You would awe at the sight if it wasn’t for the way he’s looking at you right now, so desperate and needy to be inside of you, and you’re more than welcome to give him exactly what he wants as you nod your head quickly, watching as his shoulders drop with a relieved sigh.

Matt gently pushes you down on the bed to crawl above you, kneeling between your parted thighs and he almost drools at the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him to fuck.

He’s quick to lean over to yank open the drawers of your nightstands, digging his hand inside to search around for the box of condoms he knows you have ready for him when he’s over.

Matt pulls out the box and leans back on his ankles as he dips his hand inside, and you wait patiently for him to pull out the packet and roll it onto his cock, but the way his body freezes in place and face drops, you know something is wrong.

You grow concerned, leaning up on your elbows as you call out his name, “Matt?”

“No, no, no—fuck no,” Matt mumbles repeatedly under his breath as he turns the box upside down and shakes aggressively, praying that a condom will magically appear out of thin air and lay across the palm of his hand, but it remains empty. “Fuuuck, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

You gape at him in shock, “There’s no condoms left?”

“There’s no condoms left.” Matt echoes your words, and he throws the empty box down on the bed.

He runs his hand over his face in annoyance, tears of frustration prickling at his eyes. You watch as his eyebrows knit together, how his jaw clenches and nostrils flare in anger. It was a sight you’re definitely not used to seeing, but it’s something that has your thighs clenching for some sort of friction below.

“Hey… it’s okay,” You try to reassure him as his cheeks get a little red, and you reach up to stoke his arm. “We must’ve used the last one before you left for your trip without knowing.”

“I should’ve been prepared or somethin’, like, I should’ve bought a pack before coming here—I shouldn’t have relied on you to have the condoms but, fuck, I was just so fuckin’ excited to see my girlfriend that I didn’t even think about—”

“Baby, it’s okay.” You try to cut off his rambling by reassuring him again, but it seems to not work as he continues.

“And now we have nothin’ and I’m just—” His hands wave over his hard cock comically, and you hold back a snort, watching as he runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “A’ight, I should just, like, make you cum on my tongue, and then I’m goin’ to jerk off in the—”

“No!” You raise your voice this time, startling Matt who stares at you with wide eyes, and you immediately apologise. “I’m sorry—sorry, baby. But.. you don’t need to do that, it’s okay.”

“Then what are we goin’ to do?” He questions with a whiny tone that has your head reeling and pussy begging to be fucked. The way he’s staring at you so desperately and in pain is enough for you to come up with an idea.

“How about we just do it raw this time?”

Matt’s silent.

He blinks.

He opens his mouth.

He closes it.

He blinks again.

“Raw? Like, without a condom?”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart…” Matt sighs softly as his hands rub your thighs, “We can’t do that. We can’t risk anything, y’know, and even though I’m certain I’m goin’ to spend the rest of my fuckin’ life with you and start a family… we really can’t risk it. It’s too soon, and we’re both not ready for that shit either.”

You frown, “I know that. But nothing will happen, I promise. I’m on the pill.”

Matt’s silent again.

He blinks.

He opens his mouth to croak out, “What?”

“I’ve been on the pill for a few months,” You tell him nonchalantly, and he looks at you as if you’ve kept such a big secret away from him. “Remember that night when the condom broke and we panicked?” Matt nods his head once. “I went on the pill the day after that. I didn’t want us to have another scare or anything.”

“You’ve been on the pill… for five months?” Matt asks you, and you hum to confirm it’s true. He gapes in shock, and his gaze flits down to your pussy in disbelief. “We could’ve done this five months ago?”

You struggle to hold back a laugh this time, the sound stifled by your lips. “Yes.”

“So, I can just…” Matt’s voice trails off as he shuffles forward, the tip of his cock brushing over your folds and you gasp as he presses over your clit, your thighs clamping around his hips. “I can just slide right in, feel you… fill you up…”

He’s mumbling now, some words incoherent while others are clear as day, his lewdness making your face hot. His cock nudges your opening, almost teasing you by not fucking you immediately and you bite back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.

You suck in a deep breath as Matt finally pushes into you, and his eyes grow wide, mouth slack as he feels the warmth of your walls fit snugly around his cock. His body is frozen above you, his cock pulsing as he feels you bare for the first time.

His eyes flit to yours and suddenly, his gaze darkens, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your waist.

You go to call out his name, to ask him if he’s alright but a surprised yelp flees past your lips as his hips snap forwards, burying himself deep inside your pussy. Your arms sling around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as he pants above you.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, baby,” Matt grunts under his breath, fucking himself into your deeper and you wail, locking your legs around his waist. “Feel so tight. All for me—yeah. Jus’ for me. So fuckin’ good. My pretty fuckin’ girl and her perfect pussy.”

You try to speak—to call out his name but you’re stuttering your words with each thrust. The bed creaks beneath your bodies, and the headboard hits against the wall, but you could care less about the noise, you’re too surprised to see the sudden change in your boyfriend's mood.

His tone and his words is enough to have you gaping at him, broken moans ripping through your throat at how fucking filthy he sounds, how he uncontrollably mutters how good your cunt fits snug around his cock and how we you are for him.

You’re not used to this.

You’re used to the sweet talk, the light feathery kisses he leaves on your skin in his path, the words of affectionate praises and gentle whispers of ‘i love yous’.

You’re not complaining, though. Never.

Seeing Matt’s switch up from fucking you raw for the first time has your mind spinning and electricity buzzing down your spine. Your fingernails dig further into his shoulder blades and your pussy clamps around his cock tightly, causing him to curse loudly.

“Fuck—that’s it. That’s it, sweetheart. Tight lil’ cunt squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good,” Matt whispers in your ear, almost sounding like a whine. “My girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

“Please,” You begin to beg, even though you have no idea what you’re begging for. “Please, please, please—”

“Gonna fill you up, fuck you full of my cum,” Matt drawls, his pace quickening as his cock drills into you, and his hands grip your waist tighter when he hears you moan for him. “You wan’ that? Yeah? Wan’ me to fill you up? Fuck this cunt full?”

You’re already letting yourself go just from his words alone, your orgasm crashing over you like an aggressive wave and your body seizes up, almost sobbing from the pleasure as he fucks you through it, thumbing at your clit without any signs of stopping.

Your pussy contracts around his cock, sucking him in deeper, squeezing around him tighter which causes his hips to stutter their movements, a grunt slipping past his lips before he leans back on his knees. His hands slide down your waist to grip your thighs, keeping you locked against him as he watches your cunt taking in his cock, ready to be filled.

“Good girl… keep doin’ that f’me. Feels so good, sweetheart.” Matt’s moaning under his breath, airy moans turning into whines as he feels your walls tighten around him, too overwhelmed by the feeling that he suddenly stills, a throating groan leaving his lips as he cums, filling you up just as planned.

Matt’s breathing heavily, mesmerised with the way he’s emptying himself inside you, watching as his cock twitches as his cum fills you up. He doesn’t pull away until he’s certain that there’s nothing else left to give, and he winces out of sensitivity as he slowly moves back to pull out, his cock laying limp against his thigh.

“What was that?” You breathe out heavily as you lean up on your elbows to look at him. “Where did that come from?”

“I dunno,” Matt mumbles, his cheeks blossoming a reddish hue as he refuses to meet your eyes—that shy and sweet persona falling back into place. He can’t seem to tear his gaze away from your pussy, his lips parted as his fingers delicately stroke your pussy folds. “Was I too much, though?”

“No,” You quickly shake your head to reassure him. “I liked it.”

“Yeah? You did?” Matt finally meets your gaze and you smile at him as you nod your head this time. Matt sheepishly grins back and his eyes flit back down to his fingers that circle around your hole that leaks with his cum, and he makes the sudden decision to push it all back in, causing you to gasp and whine softly. “Sorry… jus’ don’t want anythin’ to go to waste.”

You laugh lightly at his words, “Go to waste?”

“Mm,” Matt nods his head, retracting his hand and staring at the cum that covers his fingers, that dark expression taking over once again as he looks right at you. “I’m never wearin’ a condom again… y’know that right?”

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