#GUYS HE CLOSED THE CURTAIN

[popshmip]

HOLY FUCK WILLE LEARNED FROM HIS MISTAKES

[favesgrave]

SOMEONE HELP HIM HE'S GONNA. HE'S GONNA FUCKING GET IT!!!!

[ssspringroll]

Apartment: 1B Civic Cliffs

Building features: Communal laundry room

Status: VACANT

Make a sim for this space!

An affordable, lived-in 2 bedroom with a lot of charm, if you can find it underneath that layer of grime.

E.T. Moneybags Inc. guarantees a personalized home renovation* for each tenant!

*minor renovations only. furnishings will be added, altered, or replaced to suit the lifestyle of the resident, but the apartment will not be completely gutted and remodeled for them. Things like personalized clutter, hobby or career-related items, and accommodations for occult type, family members, or pets.

[sophieswundergarten]

"I'm not good with faces" is possibly the worst response Milligan could have given to Curtain asking if they've met before. Even putting aside whatever history he and Curtain had.

Seeing as the man he's talking to is his good friend/boss' Identical Twin, maybe he could have thought of a different wording!

[theo4eve]

Everything feels so fucking wrong.

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[imaginedisish]

Close to You (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. I got so carried away with this. It was not supposed to be this long. Anyway, here's the beach fic, y'all. This one is inspired by "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams...which is an absolute banger. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The team goes away on a weekend beach trip, and your pining for Logan comes to a head when you're forced to share a room...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!! Thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, feelings, fluff, afab!reader/fem!reader, reader wears a bikini (no descriptions at all, though!), one bed trope (muahaha), friends to lovers, cursing, absolutely some grammatical errors bc this fic is so long, I think that's it!

Word Count: 6,577 this was so self indulgent

You step out onto the concrete and the salt in the air immediately coats your skin. The breeze is sticky and slightly humid, but it smells so good. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand, seagulls squawking above. Laughter on the boardwalk. Carnival music blaring from all the rides. It’s perfect—the sun is high, fluffy white clouds framing the endless blue sky.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jubilee cheers, closing the car door as she slides out of the Jeep. 

Jean and Scott step out of their car, parked just up ahead, unloading their bags. “It’s so nice of the Professor to give us the weekend off!” Jean says excitedly, placing her bag down onto the sidewalk and wheeling it up to the porch of the house. “I can’t believe he rented this place for us.” It’s a yellow, two-story cottage with a lemonade porch, adorned with white shutters and a shingled roof.

Logan makes his way to the trunk of his Jeep, pulling out bag after bag. You rush to his side, reaching inside the trunk. “Let me help you,” you mumble as the rest of the team excitedly approaches the house. 

Logan smiles and shakes his head, reaching for the same bag you are. His fingertips brush yours as he takes the bag away, your heart beating in your chest at the sudden contact. “Don’t worry, princess,” he huffs, smirking as he places the bag down in front of you. Heat rises to your chest at the nickname. “Don’t lift a finger. Go inside and check out the place.” He nods his head towards the front door and grabs another bag. 

You smile, throwing your backpack over your shoulder, grabbing two bags, and carrying them to the front door in protest. “Gonna help you anyway,” you say over your shoulder. Logan chuckles as he closes the truck, grabbing the rest of the duffle bags and following behind you. 

He meets your side as you walk through the doors. The walls are pale blue, and the bottom halves are lined with white shiplap. Beechwood covers the floors. The living room is light and airy, white curtains floating through opened windows. The kitchen is off to the side, and to the back is a large open sunroom. Just straight ahead are the stairs. 

Jean and Scott settle some groceries on the counter as Jubilee, Kurt, Rogue, and Gambit head upstairs to see the bedrooms. 

“Hey, guys?” Jubilee calls from upstairs. You can tell by the sound of her voice that something is off. “I thought the Professor said there’d be six beds.”

Jean puts away a bag of chips and steps back into the living room, following Jubilee’s voice up the steps, and disappearing as her feet hit the landing. “How many are there?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Five,” Jubilee answers. “Three queens and two bunk beds, and Kurt and I took the bunks already.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says, shrugging her shoulders as she heads back downstairs. “We’ll all just be a little tight—closer quarters than usual.”

And that’s when it finally hits you. Three queen beds—and Kurt and Jubilee took the twin bunks. 

You’ll be sharing a room with Logan.

You turn to him and find that his eyes are already on you. “You okay sharing, princess?” He asks, nodding to the steps.

You swallow harshly, trying to mask your nervousness, hoping Logan can’t hear the way your heart beats out of your chest. “Yeah!” You say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Totally fine with it.”

He nods, smiling softly as he walks towards the steps, his bags in his hands. You follow behind him, the wood stairs creaking with every step you take. 

Jean was not exaggerating; the upstairs of the house is extremely small. There may be four bedrooms—but bedroom is a generous title. Each room is only large enough to hold a queen bed, a single dresser, and a small nightstand on either side of the bed. There’s little to no walking room. One of the rooms—Kurt and Jubilee’s—has just a bunk bed and a nightstand, with a tiny wardrobe in the corner. In the center of the tight hallway is a bathroom with a simple sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower. 

Logan steps into the first bedroom to the left of the stairs and puts his bags down on the ground. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, watching as you put your bags down next to his. “I can sleep on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, walking over to the window and taking in the view of the ocean. “Don’t worry,” you say, watching kids run across the sand, trying to distract yourself from how close Logan is to you in this tiny room. “We’re adults.” You turn to face him, fighting the urge to let your eyes trail up and down his body. “We can share.” Or at least, you hope you can. 

You can handle this for a weekend. You can force down your feelings—can ignore your massive crush on Logan for seventy-two hours. That’s all this is. A weekend trip. This is doable. You’ve been through so much worse than this. 

“If you change your mind, you can let me know,” Logan says, reaching his arm out towards your shoulder. His knuckles brush against your bare skin, and you let yourself lean into his touch. He’s warm, solid, cozy—

“Let’s go to the beach!” Jubilee interrupts, Logan’s hand falling from your shoulder instantly. “We didn’t come here to sit in a house all weekend, did we?” She jumps away from the door and runs down the stairs. 

 “Kid has a point,” Logan says, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling widely. “Already have my bathing suit on.” Logan smiles back and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re sitting on the beach, watching as Jubilee and Kurt splash each other recklessly in the water. Jean sits in a chair, reading a book, while Scott lays on a beach towel, eyes likely closed behind his glasses. Rogue and Gambit walk down the shoreline, hand in hand.

Logan stands up from the beach blanket you share, tugging his beater up and over his head. “I’m going in,” he says, just to you. “Wanna come?” He reaches out his hand again, the same hand that tugged you the whole way here. You bite your lip, nerves building in your stomach again. “Come on,” Logan says, smirking. “I don’t bite.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you take his hand, standing up. You let go and tug your shorts down your legs. You look up at Logan as your fingertips find the hem of your tank top, his eyes trained firmly on you. Your stomach somersaults as you pull your shirt up your body, revealing your bikini top, knowing Logan is watching. 

Logan’s throat bobs as he swallows. He nods towards the ocean, wordlessly grabbing your hand again and tugging you along. 

The waves lap at your ankles, and you force yourself into the cold water. Logan seemingly has no problem at all, pulling you along from a few feet ahead. The water is already up to his hips. He looks behind at you, all wide-eyed and happy. 

“You’re not afraid, are you?” He teases, squeezing your hand tighter. Your heart drums against your ribcage at the feeling. He’s never held your hand like this. You try to shove down your feelings, to brush away how having him this close makes you feel, but nothing changes. You want him all the same. 

You take a deep breath and shake your head as the cold water barrels against the middle of your thighs. “No,” you protest. “I’m just freezing.” 

Logan smiles wider. “You gotta get all the way in!” He tugs you further, pulling you closer to him so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. You can’t tell if it’s the icy waves or your proximity to Logan that makes your heart freeze in your chest, that makes you crave the warmth of his body. You want to be close to him. You want him to pull you into his chest and hold you. 

“Do I have to?” You ask playfully, a half-smile turning up at the corner of your mouth. 

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You choke on your own breath as he guides you further into the water. “You okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach. Goosebumps pebble your flesh. Finally, Logan guides you all the way into the water, up to your shoulders. It’s a surprisingly calm day—the waves easy and gentle. 

Logan lets go of your waist and treads water, slipping underneath the dark blue current and coming back up—his hair wet, drops of water dripping down his face and neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips at the sight. 

“Your turn,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes half shut as he swims towards you. 

Your smile drops as you swim away. Logan grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him. You yelp as he tugs you closer. You turn around and splash him playfully, freeing yourself from his grasp as he wipes the salt water off his face. 

You laugh, still backing away from Logan. He creeps forward, assessing you like an animal stalks its prey. “You’re not getting away that easy, pretty girl,” he huffs. 

What was that? Your eyes widen as those last two words repeat in your head. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice him closing the gap between the two of you. Suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you into his chest. 

His grip is like iron around your waist, keeping you in place, your hips pressed to his, your chests touching lightly. You don’t feel the coldness of the water anymore—you can’t feel anything except Logan. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. The world stopped long ago, his arms wrapping around your back now, pulling you closer. The playfulness of the moment disappears—this is something else, something more serious. Logan brings his face closer to yours, his lips just centimeters away. This is it, you think to yourself. The moment when everything finally changes—

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from the beach. Logan’s eyes fall closed—an almost defeated look painting across his face. Your head whips to the sand, and the team is standing by the beach chairs. Jubilee waves you and Logan over. “We’re going to the boardwalk! Come on!”

Logan opens his eyes. You think he’s going to push you away, to let you go, but he only holds you tighter. “Give us a second!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice. 

But Jubilee crosses her arms against her chest. Scott chuckles and walks ahead with Jean. Gambit and Rogue look at each other knowingly, and Kurt teleports to the edge of the water. 

“And just like that…” Logan murmurs, half to himself, half to you. “Moment ruined.” 

You tilt your head, the implication of his words wracking your brain. “What do you mean—” 

But Logan is pulling you along with him to the shore before you can finish asking for clarification. His arms drop from your waist, his hand grabbing yours to guide you onto the sand. He bends down, picking up your shorts and top from the beach blanket the team left out, and passing them to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, your hands parting as he shoves his beater up and over his head. Once you’re dressed, flip-flops and all, you join the team and make your way up to the boardwalk. 

Gambit is talking with Logan about something just ahead, trailing on and on, clearly irritating Logan, while Rogue falls back to walk with you. 

“So,” she says softly, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. “What’s going on there, sugar?” She asks, smirking. 

You furrow your brows, trying to hide your smile. “Nothing that I know of,” you say, somewhat honestly. This might be nothing—might just be a friend teasing another friend. A friend whose lips were just inches from yours, so close that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. A friend who dug his fingers into your waist to pull you closer to his—

“Nothing, huh?” She asks, snapping you back to reality. “Because I think he would’ve kissed you if Jubilee didn’t interrupt,” she whispers so only you can hear. 

Heat rises to your chest at her words. “I don’t know. We’re just friends…” You trail off. 

“We’ll see about that, sugar,” Rogue says, walking ahead, tearing Gambit away from Logan. Logan’s shoulders visibly relax once Gambit is gone, and he looks back at you, slowing his steps so that you can meet his side. 

“Hi,” he husks, smiling down at you. 

You smile back, the warmth of his hand suddenly spreading across your lower back. It’s gentle, the ghost of a touch, almost not quite there—more tentative than in the ocean when it felt like no one was watching. But it’s solid and centering all the same. 

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jubilee suggests, holding out the ticket booklet that Jean and Scott ran ahead to buy. She tears out tickets—three for each person. Jean and Scott hold hands and walk to the front of the line. Rogue leans over to Jubilee, whispering something into her ear that makes her eyes widen. She nods and pairs off with Kurt. Rogue turns around and winks at you while Logan isn’t looking. 

You look up at him and see that he’s staring off at the sun slowly setting. Pink, orange, and red erupt in the sky, the colors blending, painting across the wispy clouds. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” you say as the others climb into the Ferris wheel gondolas in pairs. 

Logan smirks, his eyes finding yours as you approach the front of the line. “Looks like it, pretty girl,” he husks. There it is again. Pretty girl. The ride attendant slows down the wheel, and you and Logan slip inside the gondola. You think maybe he’ll sit across from you, but he sits next to you instead. 

The attendant closes the door of the gondola, and the ride starts up. Once you’re off the ground, Logan slips his arm around your shoulder, his palm warm against your bare skin. “This okay?” He asks, his lips at the shell of your ear. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb brushes gentle circles into your arm. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and he leans against you, fitting together like puzzle pieces. 

It’s silent communication—knowing, but not saying. You can feel his intention as his arm tugs you closer, his lips at the crown of your head. Your heart beats out of your chest—for the millionth time today—and you know he can hear it. 

You reach the top of the Ferris wheel and look out at the ocean, the sun hitting the water, turning the blue waves to gold. “It’s beautiful,” you mumble, the current rippling against the shore, glistening vibrantly like the ocean figured out alchemy. 

Logan chuckles softly. “I can think of something prettier, you know,” he husks, his lips still pressed into the crown of your head. Your heart thumps in your chest at his words. You lift your head, looking up at him.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Logan, I—”

But the gondola comes to a sudden stop, and the door to the car swings open. You’re already back on the ground. The attendant crosses his arms, waiting for you and Logan to get out. Logan rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and helping you back onto the boardwalk. The team is already off the ride, waiting for the two of you at the exit.

“Why don’t we play some games and then head back to the house for the night?” Scott suggests, his arm wrapped around Jean’s waist. 

Jubilee smiles widely. “Yes! I wanna play the game where you throw the lobster into the pot!”

“Gambit’s gonna win chere a prize,” Gambit drawls, tugging Rogue into his chest. “The biggest one Gambit can find.” Rogue giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Jubilee and Kurt run off to the other side of the boardwalk, immediately finding the lobster-pot game. Jean and Scott follow behind, making sure they don’t get into trouble. Rogue and Gambit go out on their own, heading toward the ring toss game. 

You and Logan are left alone. Again. Surely everyone is doing this on purpose. “What do you wanna play?” You ask, nodding towards the array of games lined up on the opposite side of the boardwalk. 

His eyes meet yours, flitting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” You smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards balloon darts. 

You approach the booth, and Logan pulls out his wallet, handing a five-dollar bill to the woman running the game. She slides a cup of five darts towards you and Logan, and steps off to the side, away from the balloons. Logan watches as you grab a dart and throw, completely missing the balloon you were aiming for. You groan, rolling your eyes, and grab another dart. 

“Here,” Logan rasps, standing behind you. He holds your hand in his, lining the dart up to a balloon. His other arm wraps around your waist, the front of his hips pressing into your back. “Like this,” he murmurs, pulling your hand back. You let go of the dart when he thrusts forward. The dart pierces a balloon, the pop echoing through the booth. 

You look up at him, his face close to yours, and smile. He grabs another dart, his eyes still focused on you, and throws without looking away, popping another balloon. “Now you’re just showing off,” you say teasingly as your smile grows wider. He grabs another dart, aiming at a bigger balloon this time, and pierces it with ease. 

“Gotta win you a prize, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the last dart from the cup, and tossing it across the booth, directly into the biggest balloon on the board. It pops—of course—and the game attendant’s jaw drops. 

She shakes her head, walking over to the bigger prizes. “Never seen anyone do that before…” she trails off, pointing to the giant plushies. “You can pick any of these.”

Logan’s arm sneakily wraps around your waist as he waits for you to pick between a giant fox, panda, or dolphin. “The fox, definitely the fox,” you decide. 

The attendant grabs the fox and pulls it down, handing it to you. You squeeze it to your chest, Logan’s grip on your waist tightening. “He’s so cute!” You giggle, looking up at Logan, who’s guiding you towards the edge of the boardwalk. “Thank you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head and looks out towards the water. “It was nothing,” he says, his arm still around your waist as you lean against the railing of the boardwalk. The sun is falling behind the horizon, stars rising in the sky. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he turns to face you. “Listen…” He starts, his jaw working as his grip on your waist falls away, his forearms bracing on the railing. Your shoulder presses against his, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking…” But he pauses again, his eyes searching yours. 

“We ready to head back to the house?” Scott asks, interrupting the conversation. Logan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he leans forward. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Logan mutters, thinking you can’t hear him, resting his head against the railing. 

Jubilee grabs your arm, holding up her little stuffed teddy bear. “Look what I won!” Her smile drops when she sees your giant fox. “Oh my god, my bear is nothing compared to that! That thing is massive!”

You smirk, glancing over at Logan. “Wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for him.” Logan lifts his head and smiles sheepishly at you. 

The moon rises high in the quickly darkening sky. You’re not quite sure where the day went. Everything happened so quickly—the hours spent on the sand, Logan tugging you into the water. It was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now it was time to head back. 

The team treks down the boardwalk and onto the street, trailing a few blocks before arriving back at the house. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder the whole way there, leading at the front of the group. Logan grabs the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and you all head inside. 

Jubilee and Kurt run into the kitchen scavenging for snacks. Gambit and Rogue crash onto the living room couch. 

“We’re gonna head to bed,” Scott says, Jean following him up the stairs. “Night, guys.” Everyone mutters soft goodnights in response, and a comfortable silence falls upon the house. 

“Gonna steal the upstairs shower before they get to it,” you whisper to Logan, nodding to Jubilee and Kurt. 

He smirks. “I’ll shower down here,” he says back. “See you upstairs?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly remembering that you’re sharing not just a room with Logan, but a bed. You walk away and head upstairs, grabbing your pajamas from your duffle bag and making your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the water and undress. The shower is warm and relaxing, releasing the tension you had spent the entire day holding in. But the peace is temporary—your thoughts drift off to Logan. You imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, waiting for you to join him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you try to ignore the heat growing at the bottom of your belly. Maybe you should’ve taken a cold shower instead. 

You finish up in the shower, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. You reach for your pajamas, only to realize you forgot your bottoms and your bra. You step into your panties and shrug your oversized band t-shirt over your head. You push the bathroom door open just a crack, and seeing no one in the hallway, you make a break for it, tip-toeing to your room. You slip inside and shut the door. 

Logan coughs from behind you, and you whip around. “S-sorry,” he stutters, standing up from the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, just like you imagined he’d be, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair is still damp from his shower. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off. “No, no,” you assure. “It’s totally fine.” You’re worried you sound too eager, too focused on making sure he stays. You clear your throat nervously, stepping towards your duffle bag. You lean down, hoping your t-shirt is still covering your ass as you rifle through your belongings. You groan when you finally realize you forgot to pack pajama shorts. You stand up and make your way around to the left side of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, following suit and walking to the right side of the bed. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I, um…” You trail off, motioning towards your duffle bag. “I forgot pajama bottoms,” you finally spit out. “If you’re uncomfortable or—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off this time. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

You smile, climbing into the bed and slipping under the covers, and Logan does the same. He rolls onto his side and turns off the lamp—the only light on in the room. The space is engulfed in darkness save for the pale light of the moon pushing through the curtains. 

You take a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you can comprehend. You could simply turn away from Logan, but you’re too anxious to move. Your stomach somersaults as his knee brushes against your thigh. You force your eyes shut, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Logan mumbles into the dark room, shuffling under the covers. “You okay?”

You swallow harshly, humming a soft mhm, too distracted to form a complete sentence. 

“I know you aren’t telling the truth, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, his hand finding your waist. “I can sleep on the couch, if you—”

“No,” you protest, the words escaping your lips almost uncontrollably. “It’s f-fine,” you stammer. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then what’s got you so worked up, huh?” Oh. He knows. He has to know. You can hear it in his voice. 

“N-nothing,” you lie, your eyes fluttering open. Logan is closer to you now, his fingertips trailing down to your thighs, to the hem of your shirt. 

“Relax,” Logan husks, his hand slipping back up your body and settling on your waist. He tugs you closer to him. “This okay?” He asks, and you hum a quiet yes. You can feel the tension thickening, feel it readying to snap. He breaks the silence. “Thought about this all day, you know.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Th-this?” You ask, your legs tangling with his. 

“Being alone with you,” Logan rasps. Your shirt hikes up as he pulls you into his chest. “Wanted to get you alone earlier,” he says, his hand sliding back down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingertips drag along your stomach. 

You curse under your breath, Logan’s forehead pressing against yours. “Logan,” you whisper, his name the only thing you can think of. You’re sure he can smell the arousal building between your thighs. 

“There’s no going back from this. You know that, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips. He’s so close, his thigh pushing between your legs, bumping against your core. 

“Yes,” you sigh. “Don’t wanna go back.” 

Your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by how close Logan is to you. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you have no idea how much I need you.” 

His lips crash against yours, his thigh dragging along your core. You moan into his mouth, his tongue swiping across your lower lip. You part your lips, inviting him inside, his tongue tasting yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, involuntarily bucking your hips, grinding down on his thigh. “N-need you too.”

“I know, beautiful,” he soothes, gripping your waist, rolling you onto your back, pushing you into the mattress. “Fucking thought about you all day, always thinking about you.” He slides your shirt up above your tits, drinking you in with his eyes. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” He hovers over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand explores your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he palms your left breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then doing the same to the other side. It’s dizzying having him this close. You can smell his body wash—notes of musk and pine and a hint of leather on his skin. 

“Please,” you beg, not quite sure what you’re even begging for. All you know is how badly you want him—need him. 

Logan buries his face into the crook of your neck as his thumb rolls over your nipple, biting down on your pulse point and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips. “Please what, darlin’?” He mumbles, continuing his assault on your neck. 

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your hips rocking against Logan’s. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That what you want?” Logan teases, his hand pushing between your legs, his fingertips finding your clit through your panties. “What if I wanted to taste you first?”

“W-whatever you want,” you moan, grinding down onto his hand. “I’m yours.”

He lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “Whatever I want?” His voice is thick, cocky, almost mocking. “You’re mine,” he husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck. “All fucking mine.” He crawls down your body, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your panties. 

Your hips lift off the mattress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor. He nestles between your thighs, his breath hot against your cunt. You tremble in anticipation, watching as he breathes you in, his jaw working. You can see in his eyes that he’s holding himself back. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft, his cockiness replaced by genuine care. "Not gonna be able to stop once I start.” But you know he doesn’t just mean in the moment, right now—he means forever. 

“I’m sure, Lo,” you whine. It comes out like a prayer, like a desperate cry, a guilty plea. 

And then he buries his face into your heat, his tongue swiping through your folds. He grunts against you, flicking your clit before stroking his tongue through your folds again. “Fuck,” Logan groans, his face pressing harder into you, his tongue exploring your cunt. “Tastes better than I ever imagined,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice pulsing against your core. “So fucking sweet.”

Your hips jolt away from him as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. His palms quickly slide under your legs, wrapping around your thighs, yanking you back to his face, and holding you down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, princess,” he chides, his nails digging into your flesh. “Wanna eat this pretty pussy.” 

“L-Lo,” you stutter as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles around your clit. You’re already close, his teasing words enough to push you over the edge. But you know he’s nowhere near done—he’s only getting started. 

His right hand loosens its grip around your thigh, his nails dragging down the curve of your ass and towards your folds. His fingertips prod your slit, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” he praises, his lips wrapping around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud lightly as he sucks. “Want my fingers?” He asks, knowing your answer, but wanting to hear you beg for him. 

“Yes, Logan, please. Need—” 

He’s thrusting two long, thick fingers deep inside you before you can finish your sentence. “Fuck,” he whispers, pulling out and pumping back in—down to his knuckles. He stills inside you, letting you adjust to him. “So goddamn tight.” His tongue laps at your clit. “Gonna have to work you open for me, hm?” He mutters, thrusting in and out now. 

You’re so overwhelmed, your swollen clit already overstimulated. He wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harder this time, his fingers unrelenting as they plunge deeper with every pump. His tongue draws long, hard strokes around your bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your veins, a current dragging you under and holding you down. Warmth blossoms in your belly. “Doing so good for me, beautiful,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you. Your walls flutter around him at his words, sucking him in deeper. “Know you’re close, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you moan, his tongue drawing those tight circles around your clit again. He’s adding more pressure, his fingers dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you, splitting you in two. “Please, need to come…” You trail off, your back arching off the mattress, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

“Come for me,” Logan demands, his voice dark and filled with lust. “Wanna know what it tastes like.” His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers rocking in and out of your entrance. “Wanna see that pretty face when you let go.” 

And then the tension breaks, white-hot heat pouring freely from the bottom of your belly. Your vision goes blurry as Logan laps at your clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, working you through your high. You moan his name, pleasure ripping through your body in intense waves. 

His pumps relax, his fingers stilling inside you before he finally pulls out. His face is still buried against your cunt, licking long stripes through your folds. He’s savoring the taste of your release, drinking every last drop you have to give. “Can’t get enough of you,” he husks. “Could do this forever.” 

He licks one last long stripe through your folds before lifting his face from your cunt. He’s a mess—your release glistening on his chin, his hair disheveled, his boxers all wrinkled. Your heart beats in your chest at the sight. All this, just for you. 

Logan crawls up your body, hovering over you again, lowering down onto his forearm. “Wanna fuck you, beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. “Wanna know what you feel like.” His hand slips between your legs, his fingertips finding your swollen clit and giving it a gentle pinch. Your hips buck against him at the sudden sensation. 

“Wanna feel you too,” you whimper, your arms wrapping around his back. “Want you inside me, please.” 

And then he’s tugging his boxers down his legs, his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh. You can’t see—but you can feel just how massive he is. His tip slides through your folds, spreading your arousal. 

“You know how bad I need you?” Logan whispers, his lips finding yours. He bites your lower lip and kisses away the pain. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” And then he sinks himself inside you, down to the hilt with one smooth, fluid thrust. “Thought about this every day since I met you.” 

Your muscles release and contract at his words. His hips stall, letting you adjust to the size of him. You feel indescribably full. He’s splitting you open, stretching you out, claiming you as his. His hips pull back, his cock sliding out, and he plunges back in, somehow deeper this time. 

“Th-thought about you too,” you stutter, already too fucked out to form a coherent thought. “Always wanted you.” Logan sets a reckless pace as his fingertips find your clit again, working long, languid strokes into the bud, teasing you, leading you on. 

“You feel so perfect,” Logan praises, rocking into you, his cock dragging along your walls. “So fucking warm, so tight. Made for me.” His lips are on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, swallowing your moans. “Never gonna want anybody else, pretty girl.”

His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit faster now. “Just want you, Lo,” you choke, the tension building at the bottom of your belly, a fire burning through your bones. “Only want you.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice suddenly soft, contrasting with the way he pounds into you recklessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his cock. “It’s you, just you.” You can hear the emotion in his voice, the sincerity, the desperation, the aching longing. 

Your chest heaves against his. He’s fucking you to get closer to you, to be as deep inside you as possible. This isn’t just sex—this isn’t just some tension that needs to be broken. It’s an invisible string keeping the two of you tied closely together. Maybe it was stitched by the Fates centuries ago, laid out carefully, a plan to be executed. Maybe everything that led you to this moment was always meant to be. Because here you are now, his lips soft and hungry against yours, his words tearing through your resolve, his cock buried deep inside you, searching for a way to get deeper. And all you can think is…

This is it. This is what people mean when they talk about love—that word that changes its meaning every time you say it. The word with a definition that always escapes you. You know what it means now. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, that fire in your belly spreading through your body as he rams into you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing along the walls of the tiny room. His fingers press harder into your clit, pinching softly, and then circling again. 

His cock twitches inside you. “Me too, beautiful,” he hums, his pace growing sloppier, his cock throbbing again. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. “Love you so much, pretty girl.”

And then the tension snaps, electricity buzzing through your nerve endings, fire prickling your skin as you melt into him. “Love you too, Lo.” Your muscles contract and release, squeezing around him, coming undone. 

Your walls clench around him again, and you know it’ll be the thing that pushes him over the edge. “Fuck, wanna come inside you,” he pants.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Please,” you beg, and with one more thrust he’s painting your walls, filling you up and letting go. 

You share one breath, panting, foreheads pressed together as Logan’s pumps slow, his cock stalling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his arms reaching under your back as he carefully pulls out. You feel empty without him inside you. 

“Y-you can stay inside, if you want,” you offer as Logan rolls you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his lips pressing to your nose now. 

“Yes,” you whisper. He swallows harshly as one of his hands slides down your body, hiking your leg up and over his hip. He lines his half-hard cock up with your entrance, his lips finding yours as he slides back in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full of him again. 

He groans as he bottoms out. “So fucking good,” he praises, his arms wrapping around your back again, tugging you into his chest. 

You lay in comfortable silence, listening as Logan’s breathing becomes rhythmic. Your eyes grow heavy, and you bury your face into Logan’s chest. You can hear his heart beating.

“Love you,” he mumbles against the crown of your head. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice, the exhaustion. 

“Love you too,” you whisper, your breathing matching his, like you’re no longer two separate people, but one.

He presses a kiss to your head. “So lucky I met you,” he huffs. You smile against him. “So lucky I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You ask, looking up at him. 

He smiles down at you. “What love is supposed to feel like...” He trails off, and you watch as he chooses his next words. “What living is supposed to feel like.” 

You can feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. “Me too, Lo,” you whisper, pausing…

“Me too.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @fanfic-writing-barbie @pedrohoe04 @cosmiccandydreamer @movhoney @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @maniuplatour *as always, I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

[emphistic]

Pucker Up, Buttercup

"Ugh, this is so humiliating," Sukuna remarked, as you continued to do various stupid and silly poses for the camera.

Click!

You nudged him with your elbow, "C'mon, old man. Lighten up! It's a photo booth, now smile for the camera!" You used both of your index fingers to force Sukuna's lips into a smile — it ended up just making him look more menacing, as his canines stuck out.

Click!

For this next one, you moved impossibly closer to Sukuna. You gripped his jaw in your palm and pressed your lips on his cheek. Sukuna immediately flushed, and fortunately for you, the camera caught that.

Click!

Swiftly, you pulled away. "Last one, 'Kuna. Make this worthwhile and actually pose," you couldn't deny the fact you were annoyed by Sukuna's behavior right now. This photo booth did not charge nicely and Sukuna wasn't even bothering to pose or even smile.

You prepared to just flash a simple smile at the camera, but Sukuna had other plans in mind. He grabbed your face — a little roughly, but it's Sukuna, so what do you expect — and captured your lips in his, taking your breath away. For a moment, you remained stunned, before melting into the kiss. Your lashes fluttered just as the camera shuttered once more.

Click!

Sukuna tasted of the cherry flavored snow-cone he had had before entering the photo booth with you. His hand met the back of your neck and tangled itself in your hair.

The both of you remained like that, even after the last picture was taken. Neither of you moved away, until a worker had to stick their head in the booth and kick you guys out. You blushed sheepishly; but Sukuna just shrugged, pushing aside the curtain and heading out. You followed suit.

Sukuna collected the photos from the worker before you exited after him, and stuffed them in his hoodie pocket. The wind was strong outside. Consequently, you brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

Sukuna stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, mindlessly kicking rocks and pebbles, before he looked up and met your gaze.

"The fair's closing in a few minutes. We should get going."

"Right," you agreed. So was he just going to act like nothing ever happened in that booth?

As you two walked on the cement, the silence grew loud. So loud. . . Until Sukuna couldn't take it any longer, "I told you wearing that outfit wouldn't do you any good. Look at you, your whole body's shaking."

"Hmph, well — at least I look fabulous. A jacket would just ruin the look, y'know?"

"No, I don't know, actually." Sukuna pulled his sweater over his head and helped you put it on.

When you finally stopped shivering, you attached yourself to Sukuna's arm. What the hell? How was he still warm after he gave you his jacket?

"What's wrong with your body?" You laughed.

Sukuna rolled his eyes.

"Anyways," he started, out of the blue, "someone needs to teach you how to kiss, you're terrible. But — don't worry, I'll help you learn. Every single day."

"Oh my God!" You swatted at his chest, "You're actually insufferable." Sukuna's booming laughter reverberated.

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee

[ace-with--a-mace]

oh ew vomit

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie goes to a very interactive and scary haunted house with CC. They get separated, one thing leads to another, and Eddie finds himself crouched behind a dusty curtain, trying to evade a masked killer with a spiked bat.

But then his smart watch lights up, and he realizes that he needs to turn it off.

Except his shaking fingers accidentally press the "find your phone" function. One moment, Eddie is suppressing his labored breathing. Now, he's scrambling to turn off his phone as it keeps screeching "I'M HEEEREEEE!" in an obnoxious voice.

The curtain opens and the killer stares at him from above. Even with the mask on, he seems disappointed.

Eddie just stares at him.

The killer stares back.

Then, as an act of mercy, he takes Eddie's phone and turns off the noise. He returns the phone and uses his bat to give the gentlest bonk to Eddie's head.

Eddie still stares and isn't moving.

The killer sighs, removes his mask - and wow. Maybe fear scrambled Eddie's brain, but the guy's so cute!

"Oh wow," he whispers. "If I knew you were so pretty, I would have let you catch me sooner."

He half expects the guy to be disgusted, but he just snorts. "That can still be arranged. But now," he lowers his mask back, "you have five seconds to start running. And if I catch you, you don't get to ask for my number."

Eddie runs like hell. He makes it past the exit gate, he rolls on the floor, wheezing and sweating. But he still finds the words. "Your...oh fuck, my ribs...your name...big boy? And number?"

The guy didn't even break a sweat. He walks up to Eddie, takes his phone and types in a number, plus a name - Steve.

He cocks his head to the side. "My shift ends in three hours. Try not to disappoint me again, hm?"

And then he leaves.

Eddie's friends stare at him, having witnessed the whole scene. But Eddie doesn't explain anything, he just clutches the phone close to his chest and says: "I'm gonna marry that guy."

And surprisingly, he ends up being right.

[scorpieuns]

KISS ME MORE | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: freshman year is just around the corner, and you still haven’t had your first kiss, so who better to ask for help than your best friend?

word count: 3.2k

MINORS DNI!!

warnings (18+): smut. fluff (just a smidge). kissing. swearing. oral (f. receiving). fingering (f. recieving).

A/N: this was literally just an excuse to write the ‘teach me’ trope im currently obsessed with lmfao. decided to return with another short fic while a longer one is currently in the works!

Your saturday was lazily drawing to a close, the amber light of the late afternoon bathing your room in a rich, golden hue as it filtered through the sheer curtains. Sunbeams danced across the floor, casting long, dappled shadows that shifted gently in time with the breeze from your fan, its low hum blending with the quiet outside. The heat of the day still lingered, but your room felt cool—a refuge from the summer heat beyond the window.

You and Sunghoon spent another day in the slow, unhurried rhythm of summer break. You had wandered through quaint little shops in town, indulging in some ice cream from your favourite parlour—before ending the day by hanging back at your place.

Soft, flickering light from the television illuminated the room, casting faint shadows over the cozy disarray of blankets and pillows on your bed.

The movie playing was one of your favourites—a classic romance that you knew almost every line to. Your gaze was fixed on the screen, eyes wide and captivated, but Sunghoon seemed content to only half-watch. His attention was mostly absorbed in a book he had got from one the thrift shops you’d visited a while ago, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he read quietly.

Sunghoon lay sprawled beside you, completely at ease, the quiet shuffling of his turning pages blending in with the murmur of the movie’s dialogue as the two of you comfortably sat in silence.

Every now and then, Sunghoon would glance up from his book, watching you for a moment with a fond, almost amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He silently chuckled at how deeply you were invested in the story, even though he knew you had seen it more times than you could count.

As the movie played on, the flickering shots of the couple lost in passionate kisses filled the screen, but your mind was elsewhere. Each romantic scene tugged at a part of you, stirring feelings of uncertainty that you tried to brush away.

The effortless intimacy the characters exchanged seemed so foreign and so far removed from your own experiences. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you shifted slightly on the bed, that weird feeling in your chest only returning.

Fall was approaching, and the thought of starting college without ever having kissed had been gnawing at you. You were always the one admired from a distance—some guys flirted but that was all they did. The real experiences, the ones you saw in movies and tv shows still remained an elusive mystery.

It felt like you were missing some crucial part of your youth, something that was supposed to happen naturally, yet it hadn’t.

In the locker room, when your friends would share their stories about their latest flings or kisses, you’d smile, laugh along, but inside you’d cringe, hoping no one asked about your own love life. It was your secret, the thing that made you feel out of place despite how perfect you seemed to everyone else.

Then, there was Sunghoon.

You glanced at him, your best friend, lying beside you with a cute focused expression etched into his features. He didn’t talk much about his romantic escapades, but you’d heard enough to know he wasn’t inexperienced.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of faint hickeys on his neck or the way girls would glance at him. It left you with a strange feeling, one you couldn’t quite name…was it jealousy? Insecurity? Maybe both. You felt your face heat up, embarrassed by how much it bothered you.

As another kiss scene plays out on the screen, your gaze flickers back to the couple. You bit your lip, the pang of longing growing sharper. What did it feel like? To be kissed—or to have someone look at you like you were their whole world, if only for a second?

The thought of entering college without knowing something so simple yet so intimate made you feel…painfully awkward.

You tried to focus on the movie, but the thoughts kept circling back, louder and louder. The movie no longer held your interest, and the weight of your unspoken feelings became too much.

Unable to shake the feeling, you sat up as your mind ran on impulsivity. The movie played on, but you no longer cared about the plot or the characters. All you could think about was the current problem you had and the one person who would listen to you.

You shifted on the bed, turning to him. “Sunghoon." you murmured, your voice softer than usual.

He responded with a low, distracted hum, barely lifting his gaze. One hand rested on his chin, finger grazing his bottom lip in a way that drew attention to the curve of his mouth, while his eyes flicked over the pages with slow, deliberate focus.

"How does…kissing feel?"

That got his attention. Sunghoon’s eyes snapped up from the book, the words clearly catching him off guard. He pushed his glasses up with one hand, studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “What are you on about now?”

You cringed at how juvenile your question sounded now, already hesitating, “I…” your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment, “I haven’t…kissed anyone before. And with college coming up, I just feel…I don’t know…insecure.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Wait, you’ve never kissed anyone?”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Mr. Midfielder. I’m not like you, alright? It’s not like I’ve had tons of people drooling over me.”

A soft laugh escaped him as he sat up, expression softening. “No (Y/N), it’s just hard to believe.” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re… like, insanely pretty.”

Sunghoon’s words sent a little flutter in your stomach—but you brushed it off, chalking it up to him just being nice.

“Of course, you would say that,” you muttered, playfully shoving his shoulder.

“I’m serious,” Sunghoon insisted lightly, catching your wrist, gently lowering your hand. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

There was something in the way he looked at you making your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You tore your gaze away, suddenly feeling exposed under the weight of his attention. “This is stupid,” you mumbled with a wry laugh, already regretting bringing it up.

But Sunghoon wasn’t letting it go. He muttered your name softly, his voice coaxing you to meet his eyes again. He reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up until your gaze locked with his once more.

His touch was soft, barely there, but it made your cheeks warm. “It’s not stupid,” he murmured, his eyes searching for yours. “It’s okay to be new to things. Everyone is at some point.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, staring at the comforter as if the intricate embroidery held the answers to everything swirling in your head.

Sunghoon watched you intently, his heart aching at the sight of your lips forming a soft pout and your expression so full of uncertainty. How was it possible that you had never been kissed?

He couldn't understand it, and yet, the thought of you being with someone else, experiencing that first kiss with someone who didn’t know you like he did—it twisted something in his chest.

Sunghoon would kiss you in a heartbeat if given the chance, but after ages of trying to ignore his feelings—of pushing aside how much he actually wanted you, he wasn’t sure he could handle it without letting everything else spill out.

His hand was still holding yours, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over your skin, and for a moment, the touch seemed to blur the lines of just simple camaraderie. The warmth of it messed with your thoughts, and before you could second-guess yourself, the words tumbled out.

“Well, you’ve done it before, right? You could, I don’t know… teach me.”

“What?” Sunghoon froze, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes wide with surprise. His voice dropped an octave,“you’re asking me to… kiss you?”

You nodded, scooting just a little closer, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his body against yours. “Come on, Hoon. We’re best friends. It’s not like it would… mean anything.”

Even as you said it, you couldn’t really believe the words yourself. There was an undercurrent, a dull gut feeling, that told you it wouldn’t feel like practice.

To you, maybe. The thought tore through Sunghoon’s mind.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his bangs as he tried to think. For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely flustered, “I don’t know, (Y/N).”

His voice was thick as he swallowed, cheeks slowly turning pink. “That’s not exactly something you just… teach.”

“It’s just a kiss. I just wanna know what I’m doing when I eventually have to kiss someone for real.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flickered, his eyes betraying more than he wanted to show. For a split second, his eyes darted to your glossed lips, his breath hitching as he quickly looked away.

He pushed his glasses up again, licking his lips as he huffed. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Why?” You asked, the plea in your voice betraying your own feelings. “It’s just one kiss, Hoon.”

Right?

You tried to keep it light, casual, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just a small favour between friends. But inside, your heart hammered against your chest, your skin felt flushed, and the air between you both had clearly shifted.

The way Sunghoon was looking at you now, though, like he was really considering it—like he was seeing you in a way he’d never let himself see before—it was almost too much.

“Are you… sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loud would shatter the moment.

Your fingers brushed against his knee, lingering for just a second longer, “I mean, it would just be practice.” You stated, but underneath it all, your heart skipped a beat, a buzz coursing through your veins as you looked back at him.

Sunghoon’s resolve crumbled at the feeling of your hand on his knee. How could he say no to you when you looked at him like that—those wide, pleading eyes making it impossible to refuse?

He swallowed hard, his breath shaky. “Just… a practice thing,” he muttered, his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips, fighting the gravitational pull on them.

“Yeah,” You muttered quietly, reaching up to remove the wire rimmed glasses from his face and placing them on your bedside table before glancing back at him.

Sunghoon’s hand moved up, threading through your hair before gently brushing it away from your face, his touch slow, deliberate.

His thumb traced the edge of your cheek, pausing to brush against your bottom lip in a way that sent a shiver through you. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, but it ignited something deep inside you, making your breath hitch.

Your stomach fluttered as you met his intense gaze, his dark eyes trained on your lips. He leaned in closer, close enough that you could feel his breath fanning lightly over your skin, teasing, heightening the anticipation.

Sunghoon’s lips hovered over yours, just barely ghosting against them, brushing so softly that it made you ache for more.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips gently against his. The kiss started soft, tentative, your body hyper-aware of every detail—the warmth of his breath, the way his lips responded immediately, moulding into yours with an eagerness that surprised you.

Oh.

You pulled away for the briefest moment, eyes flickering down to his lips, your heart pounding through your ears. Without a second thought, you leaned in again, this time a lot bolder, your hand finding the side of his face.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. He kissed back within a heartbeat, a soft sigh escaping his lips that sent a rush of warmth to the pit of your stomach. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you against his chest, the space between you vanishing as your bodies pressed together.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, the soft strands curling around your fingertips as you tugged on them softly, his soft groans between kisses making your pulse race.

Sunghoon’s lips were firmer this time, more needier with every kiss, sending a rush of heat through your body as his grip on your waist tightened.

You softly fell back into the bed as he hovered over you, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before you parted your lips a little more, a low groan rumbling through his chest as he licked into your mouth.

Your hands slowly drifted down Sunghoon’s body, slipping beneath the thin fabric of his shirt to trace the contours of his torso, his breathy moans travelling straight to your core.

“Fuck.” He rasped, pulling away, “maybe we should stop.” Sunghoon’s eyes were glazed over, lips were swollen and tainted with your lip gloss, “I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself (Y/N).”

“Then don’t.” You rushed, breathless and wasting no time kissing him again, an unmistakable moan leaving Sunghoon’s chest as he kissed back desperately.

He pulled away—already missing the feeling of his lips on yours before they moved to your jaw, trailing soft sloppy kisses that travelled down to your neck, the feathery feeling creating a dull ache between your thighs.

Your sighs of pleasure almost bordered on moans as he gently sucked your delicate skin—pink and purple marks blooming on your skin, recklessly marking you from your neck to your collarbone.

Sunghoon’s hand drifted over the small of your back, sliding over to find their place on your ass squeezing the soft flesh with a lewd groan—an involuntary moan slipping past your lips at the feeling, tugging his hair.

Everything had your mind spiralling. Sunghoon’s lips were on your neck, his hand roaming every inch of your body.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want more—craved more.

He trailed wet kisses along your chest, lifting your shirt to press a few more along your stomach, revelling in the way you leaned into his touch, your soft whines and sighs driving him up the wall.

You admired the way Sunghoon looked when he glanced up at you with his eyes, weaving your fingers through his already dishevelled hair, moving to his face and caressing his rosy cheeks.

Sunghoon’s fingers finally met the waistband of your shorts, lifting your hips up as quickly pulling the layer of clothing away, “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He hissed, running his hands up and down your thighs.

His other hand brushed over your underwear, groaning at the sight. His finger traced over your wetness on the silky fabric, and you leaned into his touch, with the most beautiful moan he’d ever heard.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet.” Sunghoon groans as his thumb taps at your clothed clit, clenching around nothing at the mention of the pet name he’d just given you.

He kissed your thigh, hooking his finger into your underwear and sliding the damp pink fabric down your legs, almost moaning at the sight of your dripping cunt.

Sunghoon lifts your leg and holds it over his shoulder, swiping his tongue over his thumb before meeting your clit and your head falls back, “Hoon, fuck.” You moaned, grabbing at your sheets.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Sunghoon says softly, and you nod—watching him dip below your thighs, lips move to your clit and sucking on it gently.

You never fathomed anything would feel this good. Sure, you’d touched yourself a couple of times, but nothing could beat the feeling being eaten out.

You cry, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his tongue dipping into your folds, letting his thumb swirl around your bundle of nerves while his tongue enters your core, moaning into your entrance.

The vibrations from his moans sent shockwaves up your spine, head tipping back in from the sensation with a broken cry, legs attempting to fly shut but he pushed them apart with a sound of disapproval.

His tongue swiped upwards, and his eyes fluttered closed at the taste of your arousal, reveling in the insanely beautiful moans that tumbled from your lips.

Your hands weaved into his hair, tugging the soft strands as you shamelessly bucked into his mouth with broken whimpers.

Sunghooon held you firmly against the sheets to stop you from squirming, unable to stay still from the feeling of his nose causing friction on your clit as he lapped at your pussy.

Your eyes peer over at him and the pornographic sight of him buried between your thighs makes your cheeks burn. When his hand moves from your thigh you don't think much of it, until you feel his fingers circle your entrance.

Sunghoon pulls away from you, just in time to watch your plump lips fall open when he easily slides his fingers into your dripping core.

“You have know idea how good you look baby.” He panted, plump lips covered in your arousal biting his lip at sight in front him, completely enamored by your fucked out expressions.

Sunghoon’s fingers curl inside of you and they brush over your sweet spot, your mouth opening in a broken moan.

“F-feels so good, Hoon” you mewl breathlessly, grabbing his free arm as you bucked into his fingers, pumping them into you at a perfect speed.

You cheeks flushed furiously at the sounds of his fingers fucking your sopping wet core, broken raspy moans leaving your chest as his lips pressed kisses to your overstimulated clit—your mind a scrambled mess.

All you could think about was the pleasure that was currently surging throughout your entire body, making your toes curl and your head dizzy. A few whines and broken moans was enough to tell Sunghoon you were close, furiously clenching around his fingers as you begged him not to stop.

“That’s it baby, come for me.” He coaxed, his voice raspy and breathy, moaning at the sight of his fingers easily slipping in and out of you.

Your body jerked forward and your hand flew to his arm, blunt nails digging into his skin as you let out a whimper, back arching as his name tumbled past your lips in high pitched moans.

You were almost embarrassed by how fast Sunghoon made you come, mind clouded and hazy as he continued pumping his fingers, your walls clenching around his digits as he fucked out your high.

He pulled away shortly after, fingers slipping out of your entrance and placing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

You watched the messy haired brunette suck his fingers into his mouth, eyes closed and moaning at the taste of you—before you leaned over, softly grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him to your mouth for a kiss, lightly tasting yourself on his tongue.

"So we both agree that this wasn't just practice, right?" He mutters against your lips and you laugh, still dazed and high from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Yeah, I don't think I wanna do this with anyone else. You're my only option, Park." His smile grows and he pecks your lips again.

[eternalsunrise]

shower talk.

deadpool (wade wilson) x f!reader

wc: 750 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, sexual & murder references (duh)

notes! wade brainrot is so bad idk, logan fic coming soon pls forgive me

wade often barges into the bathroom while you’re in the shower just to sit on the toilet seat and rant about the mission he just went on, or even to ask what takeout you want for dinner. couldn’t it wait until you had clothes on? sure, but he wants to talk to you now.

unexpectedly, you decide to take a page out of his playbook.

you’ve just walked in the door after your 9-5, throwing your keys and bag haphazardly across the room in frustration. you spy the familiar rumpled up red and black suit on the floor, wade was home. you had complained last week about deadpool tracking blood into the apartment after his “work.” it seemed your boyfriend had listened and obliged. if it weren’t for your bad day, the image of him cupping his crotch as he scrambled naked into the bathroom would’ve made you smile.

you hear the water still running, but you finally understand how wade feels, this can’t wait. you open the bathroom door and throw the toilet lid down, unsure if wade even heard you enter over the sound of his own voice belting hall and oates’ greatest hits.

you sit down and let out an overdramatic sigh. your boyfriend’s voice quiets down halfway through “out of touch”

“honey bear? you’re home! these stab wounds will heal in about two minutes then you can join me. i know how you feel about seeing intestines, and i don’t want to make you gag…well scratch that i do sometimes—“

“i fucking hate men.”

you hear the sound of the shower curtain opening slightly, and wade’s head peaks out, looking at you with wide eyes, “woah language, babydoll! you know degradation turns me on.” his head tilts to the side, noticing the distress written on your face “but i have a feeling this isn’t about me…”

you spare him a narrowed glance, then watch as his head disappears. the curtain closes and you hear the water hit skin again as he resumes his shower. he’s giving you time to speak. remarkable.

“you remember that guy i told you about? the one that gave me major creep vibes? and was just an all around dick?”

you get a hum in response, and you can’t see it, but you know wade is physically biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. it’s endearing in a way.

you rub your face with your hands, the memory of what you’re about to say lights the fire of anger again, “well. guess who got that promotion i was being eyed for? i’ll give you a hint, it’s not someone with a vagina! and on top of that, i saw him try to look under my skirt as i was leaving! that fuck.”

you almost regretted telling him that last part, knowing where this was going. but your mind was clouded by frustration, and the water was already turned off. the rings screech against the metal shower rod as wade throws the curtain open, reaching over your head for a towel. “okay sweet thing. where does this cock suck and fuck live?”

your eyes catch a glimpse of red turning pink as it swirled into the tub drain. you shake your head, suddenly realizing the severity of what your mercenary boyfriend was implying. “no no babe please it’s not that serious! and you just got home. not to mention if people found out, you’d get in so much trouble all because of something silly that happened to me and—“

a long finger is placed over your lips. you’re eye level with wade’s v line, partially covered by the towel now wrapped around his waist. you trail your eyes upward, locking them with the one who interrupted your rambling.

“shhh. nonsense kitten. now. you’re going to tell me this guy’s address, and i’m going to go out for…” wade uses his free arm to look at a make believe watch, “hmm, about an hour. while i’m gone, you’re going to change out of this sexy pantsuit. then have a glass of wine, and touch yourself while you think of me fondly. i’ll grab dinner on the way home. yes?”

when you nod with wide eyes in agreement, he removes his finger, bending down to meet your face, “atta girl.” he praises as his lips graze your own, kiss light as a feather. he clears his throat then, patting your cheek a few times as he stands up to walk out of the bathroom. whistling as if murder was all in a day’s work (you suppose for him it is)

you sit there stunned, wondering if you just got your coworker murdered….and why you were so turned on.

[junkissed]

bad neighbor

member — neighbor!dino x f reader genre — smut, college au word count— 6.3k synopsis — pros of living next door to a frat house: your neighbor is really really hot. cons of living next door to a frat house: probably everything else. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, fingering, lots of making out, facial (cum on face), semi public sex (hooking up at a party) content warnings — slightly introverted!reader, chan is in college but reader isn't: can be interpreted as older!reader but that's up to you tbh, mentions of weed & alcohol (chan & reader are both sober), cameos from cheol & hoshi hehe notes — thanks again to @onlymingyus for helping me get my brain in order <3 please reblog or send an ask if you enjoyed reading!! it means a lot to me and it helps me continue writing :) i hope you like this fic!

it's still early in the evening when the music starts.

the sound of voices and cars honking outside your house draws your attention away from the latest episode of your favorite new show. you get up and walk over to the window, peeking out through the curtain at the bright headlights beaming at you.

with a sigh you push the curtain closed again, heading into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. if tonight is like any of the other nights, then it'll be a long time before you fall asleep. hopefully the chamomile will help—is what you tell yourself every time. and every time, it doesn't help.

living in the same neighborhood as the frat houses from the nearby state university was certainly a choice, but the rent in the area was the cheapest in town and you didn't have many options left. with the fall semester coming up fast, every other apartment complex and condo in the city was already rented out. after moving in, you'd quickly discovered why the rent was so cheap: not because the house was in bad condition or because the location was inconvenient, but because of the parties. nearly every fucking night.

you might actually be impressed at how these college kids find the energy to party so often, if you weren’t so fed up with them. every friday and saturday night, and even sometimes during the week, at least one house on your block was throwing some kind of wild party.

by now you'd seen it all: drunk girls throwing up on your lawn, shirtless guys doing keg stands in the middle of the cul-de-sac, people making out literally everywhere. and yes, including that one time on halloween when you found two playboy bunnies having sex with spider-man in your backyard. how they got back there was anybody's guess, but from then on you’d started double and triple checking that your back gate was locked every night. 

tonight, it seemed that the festivities were being hosted at the house across the street. and the man behind it all? none other than lee chan, president of the fraternity and owner of the house.

you'd only officially met him twice, once on the day you'd moved in and once the day after. his red honda had pulled into his driveway at the same time you were unloading your boxes from the u-haul, and he'd jumped out and offered to help carry your furniture inside.

at the time it had felt like this was finally your meet-cute moment, the friendly and unfairly attractive boy-next-door that sweeps you off your feet with love at first sight. but once the final box had been moved, he'd simply given you a smile and a wave and went back inside his house. no cute bonding, no exchanging phone numbers, no asking to see each other again. he just left.

of course, that had been before you found out about the parties, and the shock you were in for that same night when people had started showing up in droves had nearly led you to call the cops. so the next morning you'd put on a nice outfit and went to knock on his door, and it was then that you found out more about the neighborhood you'd found yourself living in.

with the same polite tone he'd used yesterday, he'd been friendly and apologetic for the noise, promising that he'd make sure everyone stayed on his side of the lawn and that no one disturbed you or your house. he'd explained that it wasn't a quiet neighborhood, no matter the time of year, but repeated that if anything happened he would take full responsibility for it. he said that you were welcome to come over any time, whether you needed something or you just wanted in on the fun.

you'd taken his word for it, sheepishly waving goodbye as you crossed the sidewalk between your houses, though you figured you would probably never set foot inside his house while there was a party going on. and as you’d walked away, you had tried to ignore the feeling of your heart fluttering with the beginnings of a crush on your neighbor.

tonight, however, your heart was doing anything but fluttering. music blasted outside, definitely a lot louder than usual, and the sound of car engines revving was already getting on your nerves.

you dunk your tea bag into the boiling water at the same time a loud banging on your door makes you jump, and you narrowly avoid spilling it all over yourself and the counter.

quietly you rush over to the door, looking out the peephole to see a group of people carrying cases of beer, looking around at your front porch.

before you can figure out how to react, you hear someone yell something distantly and the group turns around in the direction of the sound.

"shit, wrong house," one of the guys says loudly. "sorry, whoever lives here! have a good night!" he calls as they walk away, the others laughing over a joke you can't hear. 

with the crisis averted, you head back into the kitchen and pull the tea bag out of your mug, chucking it into the trash with a huff. full responsibility, your ass. 

and then… you have an idea. 

chan had been so insistent that you could come over if you ever needed anything, so you might as well take advantage of his offer. because tonight you did, in fact, need something. you needed the party to not be so goddamn loud that you can literally feel your living room floor vibrating beneath your feet.

you stick your mug in the microwave to reheat later and quickly change out of your pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. presentable enough that you don’t embarrass yourself, yet comfortable enough that you don’t feel so awkward.

with a deep breath, you pull open your front door, keys tightly in hand as you lock it behind you and start making your way across the street.

you're almost at chan’s front door when a man steps in front of you out of nowhere, stopping you short. "hey, here for the party?" he asks, holding up his hand for a high-five.

"um… kinda," you say, lightly tapping his hand. you figure he must be the bouncer of some sort, from his friendly yet confident no-nonsense attitude and the way his thick biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. "i'm looking for lee chan, he owns the house?"

"gotcha," he nods. "gotta check your age before i let you in, though."

you pause, his words sinking in as you realize why he's asking. "oh, sorry, i didn't think i'd need my id," you apologize. "but i live next door, my driver's license is just in my wallet, i can go grab—"

"are you over 21?" he interrupts, and you frown at the question.

"uh, yes?"

"cool. head on in, then," he says.

you look at him suspiciously. "you're sure you don't need to see my id? what if i was lying?"

"dino will probably be downstairs, his room is the door at the end of the hallway on the left," he says, pointedly ignoring your questions. "and while you're down there, tell him cheol sent you. ask him to grab another beer for me."

he waves towards the open front door, and hesitantly you make your way inside. you have no idea who the hell dino is, and you can only hope it's just a nickname of some kind and the man you're about to go find isn't some stranger.

the second you set foot inside the doorway, it's like entering a completely different world. the air is stale and humid, clinging to your skin as you push through a crowd of what must be hundreds of people packed like sardines into every corner of the room.

the music gets louder the further inside the house you go, and you have to focus on repeating cheol's instructions in your head so you don’t get lost in the maze of hallways and doors. downstairs, end of the hallway, left. 

you soon find out where the music is coming from. unlike the normal house lights on the first floor, downstairs everything is dark except for colorful flashing led lights around the room. a man stands on top of a table between two huge speakers as people crowd around him, jumping and shouting lyrics to the song that’s playing.

there’s so many people that you have to push your way through the crowd, but most of the people around you either don’t notice or are too drunk to care. but finally, you make it to what looks like the hallway that the man outside—what was his name, cheol?—told you about.

you open the first door on your left and find four people sat quietly on the floor passing around a bong, a thick cloud of smoke hanging over the room. all four of them look over at you at the same time, glazed eyes silently asking who the hell are you?.

"sorry, wrong room," you squeak, slamming the door and retreating back into the hallway as you try your best not to step on anyone's feet.

with a deep breath you crack open the door directly beside the one you'd just opened and poke your head inside, and relief washes over you when you see chan inside.

he's sitting on a couch with a couple girls sitting next to him and a guy slumped against his shoulder, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

he looks up when the door opens, and a look of shock spreads over his face when he recognizes you. he calls your name and you step inside tentatively, saying his name in response. "chan?"

"close the door behind you," he says, and you jump to turn around and shut it with a click. he must notice you standing like a deer in headlights, because he motions you closer to him with a friendly smile. "sorry," he explains. "people will think it's an open room if you leave the door open. i don't want anybody in here without a reason to be."

you nod, but your eyes dart over at the girls sitting beside chan. he makes eye contact with them and clears his throat, and without a word they stand up, understanding the message.

he helps the man laying against him sit up, then helps him stand up and hands him off to the others. "don't let hoshi drink anything else tonight except water, okay? keep an eye on him until your driver shows up."

they nod and slip their arms around their friend, helping him stumble out of the room as he grumbles about something incoherent. "thanks, dino," one of them says with a little wave. "see you monday for that bio test."

the girls open and shut the door quickly, suddenly leaving you alone with him in the room.

"hi," you start, not knowing what else to say. it's been such an ordeal just trying to find him that you've almost forgotten why you came searching for him in the first place.

"hi," he repeats with a laugh. "honestly, i never thought i'd see you here. you don't seem like the type. so, what brings you over tonight?"

"you've only met me twice, how would you know what i seem like?" you reply defensively, thought he's spot on. this is not your usual scene at all, and you’re sure that anyone at this party who’s even a smidge sober must be able to tell how out of place you look.

he shrugs, patting the couch seat next to him. "alright, fair point. come sit down."

you carefully take a seat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the collection of ambiguous stains on the couch cushions.

"oh, before i forget. somebody named cheol told me to tell you he wants a beer?" you say awkwardly, relaying the message.

"bastard," chan mutters, but he's smiling, and you assume the guy you met earlier is a friend of his. "fine, i'll grab him something when i go back outside." pausing, he turns his attention back to you. "but really, why are you here? i don't wanna make any assumptions, but i doubt it's for the free alcohol."

"if i was, you'd have to tell me where to find it," you say with a shrug, and he laughs but stays quiet for you to finish.

you fold your hands together nervously. "anyway, i just came over to ask—could you maybe turn the music down, like, just a tiny bit? and also… can you tell people to stop having sex in my yard?"

he winces and gives an apologetic smile. "yeah, of course. sorry about that. i told vernon to keep it down, but you know how he gets when he's…" he stops as if he’s just realized something. "nevermind. i'll go let him know right now. do you wanna come with, or you wanna stay here?"

"no offense, but i'd rather not go back out there," you laugh awkwardly. “it was bad enough just trying to find you in the first place.”

"all good," he replies with that friendly smile of his. "it's not for everyone, that's for sure. just make sure the door stays closed, and you'll be fine in here by yourself. shouldn't take too long."

he opens the door and slips out, slamming it closed behind him. you sit unmoving on the couch, finally glancing at your surroundings.

unlike the first room, the air here is fairly clean, other than the faint smell of alcohol and weed wafting in from under the door. you realize this must be chan's actual bedroom, when you see the posters that cover the walls and the bookshelf full of knick-knacks and textbooks.

you start to wonder who else lives in this house, but soon the door opens again and chan returns, the sound of voices and music flooding in while the door is open but quickly falling quieter once the door is shut again.

"alright, he'll keep it down. i'm sorry about the noise," he apologizes again, but you wave him off, suddenly feeling shy around him. with him still standing and you still sitting, he towers over you in a way that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter back to life.

"no, it's fine. really, it's not that big of a deal," you rush, trying to ignore the growing feeling in your chest. was he always this hot? for the first time tonight you notice how his blonde hair falls in waves around his face, perfectly framing his soft features.

he shakes his head. "really, i mean it. vernon will make sure it doesn't get out of hand, he’s good at that. i can't exactly give you a quiet evening, but i can give you the best i've got."

you take a deep breath and stand up. you're already way outside of your comfort zone even just coming to this party, but maybe this experience hasn't been all that bad. after all, you got to see chan again, and you got to exchange more than a handful of words with him like you did all the other times you’d met him.

"well… what is the best you've got?" you ask him, and you almost see him raise an eyebrow.

he puts his hands in his back pockets, pausing for a second as he looks at you. "mm, best i've got? probably this room. my room. quietest in the house, and nobody will come in to bother us."

your heart races as you take a small step towards him, standing close to him but still keeping some distance between you.

"so does this mean you're not leaving?" he asks when you don’t say anything, just barely loud enough for you to hear him.

"do you want me to stay?"

he takes a step closer to you. "only if you stay with me."

"do you say that to all the people you bring in here?" your question is joking, but a part of you still worries that he thinks you're just another girl at the party looking for a one night stand. though honestly, you wouldn't even really mind if that's all this was. hell, maybe all the secondhand smoke is getting to your head and clouding your judgement, because hooking up with your neighbor seems like a pretty fantastic idea right now.

"the only time i let people in my room is to let them use my bathroom and to make sure they don't die of alcohol poisoning," he says in a low tone, a little laugh escaping him. "and now, i guess i let my hot neighbor in here, too."

"you think i'm hot?" you ask, taking another small step forward.

he matches your stride, taking one last step towards you so that you're finally standing toe to toe with him. "i'd be an idiot not to."

"but how would you know, if we've only met twice?"

he laughs. "well, you had just moved in. i wasn't gonna hit on you when you hadn't even finished unpacking your furniture yet."

"so you did want to hit on me, then," you say confidently, straightening up a little.

“did i ever say i didn't?” he rests his hands on your hips and gently pulls you towards him, closing the last of the distance between you. his eyes never leave your face, gauging your reaction and looking for any hesitation.

you wrap your arms around him and lean forward, a smile on your lips. "good to know."

he leans in the rest of the way and presses his mouth against yours, and everything else just falls into place. your hands reach up to find his hair, threading your fingers through his blond waves and tugging experimentally, and when he lets out a little noise of pleasure you kiss him harder.

the noise of the party fades into the background as his hands slide down your body to grip your ass, and you can’t help the little moan that escapes as he starts to back you up against the wall. his hands stay put, kneading your ass as you try to keep your legs from giving out already. it’s painfully obvious how bad you want him, but it’s equally obvious how he feels the same way.

“fuck, been dreaming about this since the day you moved in,” chan says, pulling away from you with a shaky breath as your fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt. 

he pulls it off over his head before leaning over to kiss you again, his tongue tracing over your lips. he’s good at this; not like you’re surprised by it or anything, but it still catches you off guard.

he seems to be able to sense the tiny bit of lingering hesitancy, so he breaks apart from you but still keeps his arms firmly around you, loosening his grip just a little. “is this okay?” he asks in a low voice, but you can hear the concern laced in it.

you nod quickly, tugging your shirt off quickly and letting his hands settle at your hips before you pull him back closer. you never do this. maybe you really had inhaled too much secondhand smoke on the way in and you aren’t thinking straight. but deep down, you know that’s not the case. 

as much as you hate to admit it, your harmless crush on your neighbor has grown into something much, much more. you can’t say you’ve never been a little jealous when you see girls leaving his house on sunday mornings after parties. you can’t say you’ve never let your eyes linger a few seconds too long when he goes out to check the mail and he’s wearing that tight black tank and thin silver chain he never takes off.

or the fact that he works out in his garage with the door open, and you aren’t really purposefully trying to look but it’s not your fault that your window just happened to be open. and it wasn’t your fault that you just happened to look outside and see him shirtless and bench lifting a very large amount and if you were really really quiet you could almost hear him groaning—

he slides his hands down your bare skin, hesitating again at the waistband of your jeans, but you arch your back a little to push yourself closer and he takes the hint. he easily undoes the button with one hand, and you try not to think about how many times he must’ve practiced that in order to get that skilled at it. but that thought is quickly pushed out of your mind when his hand makes its way into your pants, his fingers experimentally sliding down past your underwear and brushing through your folds.

you let out a groan, rolling your hips into his hand encouragingly. you’re already hot and sweaty, standing with your back against the door in just your bra and jeans, but it’s hard to tell if the heat is from the crowded, stuffy house or from something else.

“god, you’re so wet,” he murmurs under his breath almost incredulously as he presses his fingertip against your clit, circling the swollen bud before dipping back down to collect your arousal on his fingers.

you squeeze your thighs together out of instinct, trapping his hand between your legs, and he looks up at you for confirmation. “more,” you whimper, just loud enough to be heard over the music and the noise on the other side of the door. “chan, please.”

he groans and puts more pressure on your clit, starting to rub a little faster and a little messier. he slides his middle and index fingers inside and you let out an involuntary yelp, clenching and bucking your hips in search of more friction. he starts out slow, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion as his other hand massages the bare skin of your waist.

after more of your pleading he finally concedes, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on his stomach, leaving a glistening trail of wetness on his tan skin. he glances back up at you in questioning, but he finds no hesitation in your expression as his hands start to push your pants down your legs and you kick them away, leaving you bare in front of him.

“you sure you're ready?” he pauses to ask one more time, but your quick nod has him jumping back into action in seconds.

he follows hurriedly, stripping out of his pants and shoving his boxers down to free his cock. his length springs up and slaps against his stomach, the tip looking flushed and heavy, and your mind goes blank, replaced only with the thought of him inside you. he holds himself in one hand, lining his cock up at your entrance as you adjust your position in preparation.

you groan as he finally ushes into you, your fingernails digging into the back of his shoulder blades as you struggle to balance.

“feels good?” he mumbles as he lifts your thigh, wrapping your leg securely around his hip. he doesn't move yet, his hips still as he lets you move however you need.

you barely manage to nod in return, keeping your hands firmly planted on his shoulders, slowly but surely adjusting to his size. “god, yes,” you manage, trying to keep your breathing steady. “if i'd have known you felt this good i would've come over way sooner.”

“mm, well. you're welcome over here any time.” he grins at you. his dark eyes get hazier with desire as he holds you firmly against his pelvis. “for any reason you'd like.”

the best response you can come up with is “sure”, barely listening as you start to roll your hips, but you can tell the sincerity in his statement. your attempt at movement doesn't work very well in this position, but chan quickly takes the hint, pulling back and letting his cock slip halfway out before he drives back into you.

the first thrust has you seeing stars already, and you let out a broken moan as he starts to build up his pace. your back slides against the wall as you feel the bass reverberating through your bones, and it only enhances the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“if there weren’t so many people in this house, i’d have you screaming my name right now,” chan huffs against your lips, pulling your body closer and wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“mm, but the music is so loud they probably wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway,” you bite back with a brazen smile. you're feeling bold, the party atmosphere filling you with a cockiness that you don't usually possess. but something about the environment, the fact that you're fucking the hottest person here while hundreds of people rave obliviously outside the door, is a thrill you've never felt before.

he rolls his head back with a groan, and you feel his thrusts suddenly getting harder and deeper. you have to fight to stay standing, using all your energy to keep yourself upright and leaning most of your weight on him, but if he notices it he doesn't let it show. all those push-ups and bench presses that you ogle him doing in his garage must be good for something, from the way he hoists you against the wall and drives his cock into you without even barely breaking a sweat.

“say it, then,” he goads, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he holds your leg up. “you want to, don't you? you wouldn't have come over here tonight if you didn't.”

the worst part is that you know he's right. your own curiosity is what brought you here tonight, masked by the claims of noise complaints. the noise isn't even really that much of a bother: you could've gone to bed, turned on your fan and played some white noise, and you would've been perfectly fine. but some part of you longs to know what goes on at these parties, to see your devastatingly sexy neighbor in this setting you've never witnessed him in yet. so now that your curiosity has been satisfied, you really have nothing to lose.

“chan! fuck— mmph, yes—” you whine loudly, unintentionally clenching around him as the words fall from your lips. there's no way anyone would hear over the music, and even if they did, there's a high chance they wouldn't care either way. it's just what happens at parties.

his eyes light up at the sound, a moan of his own leaving his mouth as he thrusts into you over and over again, burying his cock as deep as he can go with every stroke. a familiar heat burns in the pit of your stomach at his movements, winding tighter and tighter with each passing second. your walls throb around his length, filling every inch of you until you can't take it anymore.

“chan…” you groan again, pulling him towards you with your leg around his waist. “please, keep going… c-close, i'm close—”

he leans in and presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth. “god, please cum for me,” he says breathlessly, pulling away but leaving just enough room for your lips to stay connected by a thin string of spit. “need to feel it, need to feel you. please, baby, fuck…”

he slams into you even harder, driving his cock right up into the spot that makes your knees nearly buckle. you manage to whimper out his name one last time before your lips go slack against his mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as you crash into your climax. the force of his steady, constant thrusts combined with the force of your orgasm leaves your body tingling, every nerve alight from the waves of pleasure pulsing through you.

his movements don't ever slow, but you can see the emotion twisting in his face in reaction as he watches you cum, squeezing around him so warm and wet and perfect that it takes every ounce of his self control not to immediately follow you over the edge.

his eyes bore into yours, watching your face until he's sure you've recovered enough to handle him. he pulls out and keeps his hand firmly wrapped around the base of his cock, jerking himself with tiny flicks of his wrist to keep the momentum going.

immediately you drop to your knees in front of him, tilting your head back to stare up at him between his thighs, your eyes wordlessly pleading with him as your tongue nearly rolls out of your mouth.

“fuck, you're so…,” he groans, keeping his fist tight around his cock with a few final motions. “you're so fucking hot, god, i'm gonna—”

he whines and his hips buck as he spills across your face, thick white ropes landing on your tongue and your cheeks. your smaller hand reaches up to replace his and you take him into your mouth, gagging only slightly as the salty taste fills your mouth. you wrap your lips around him and swallow, letting your tongue swirl around his sensitive head to collect it all until he's finished.

he pulls back and his cock slips from your mouth, leaving you gasping and licking your lips to catch the stray drops of his cum. his voice is low and strained as he reaches out his hand to help you up, his thick biceps flexing as he pulls you to your feet. despite the blissed-out look on his face you can see the guilt in eyes and it makes you pause, wondering if he didn't enjoy it the same way you just did. but it's only another moment before he speaks again, and your short-lived worries are put to rest.

“i'm sorry it was so fast,” he says almost shyly, pulling you over to sit at the edge of his bed. “i can go again if you aren't done yet. or we can do something else… or i could walk you back home. whatever you want, i'm happy to do.”

you expression softens into a grin, still a little hazy but definitely not finished. “oh, i can go again, for sure. i've got all night if you'll let me.”

his eyes crinkle with an eager smile, and you're already spreading your legs to give him space as he falls down onto the bed between them, landing on top of you. his hand cups your chin ans he pulls you into him, his lips finding yours and melting into you with a satisfied hum. his tongue finds its place once again in your mouth, prodding inside as he kisses you with a level of passion and desperation you haven't felt in a long time. 

he groans into the kiss as he tastes himself on your lips, exploring your mouth and the bitter taste he left inside. you feel the vibrations from it in your jaw and down your neck, and it only makes you kiss him harder in an effort to draw out more of those pretty sounds.

"hey, dino, didn't you say you'd bring me a beer? it's so boring standing out there—"

the door opens and you jerk away with a scream, hiding yourself under chan and using the nearest piece of clothing to cover up as someone barges into the room.

"cheol, get the fuck out!" chan shouts, wrapping his arm around you and keeping you pressed tightly against his chest, using his back to shield you from view. "fucking knock next time, dude, you know better!"

"jeez! how should i have known? i thought you said you didn't hook up at parties," cheol mutters as he turns around, slamming the door shut behind him. "i'll get the damn beer myself."

the door slams shut once again, and chan sighs and hangs his head, his forehead leaning against your chest before he reluctantly crawls off of you and crosses the room to lock the door.

“you don’t hook up at parties, huh?”

he turns around to look at you, and you pause to take him in. his hair is messier than it was when you got here, glued to his forehead with sweat and sticking up at odd angles from you tugging on it. his broad chest is tinged red with tiny scratches from your nails, and it makes you want to bite him all over, but you contain yourself for now.

your voice is teasing, but cheol’s words have honestly made you feel a million times lighter. you hadn’t expected to be anything special to chan after tonight; at the very least, you hoped that it wouldn’t be awkward when you see each other, but you’d figured you were just the next in a long line of girls waiting to have their turn with him. for once, you’d never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“i’ll make an exception for the pretty neighbor girl. just this once.”

“oh, so now i'm just pretty. i thought i remembered you saying that i was the hot neighbor girl,” you giggle, watching as he hops on one leg to put his boxers back on.

“two things can be true at once,” he says with a grin as he walks back over to you still lying on his bed. “besides, i still haven't taken you out on a date yet. would be kinda forward of me to call you hot when i haven't even bought you dinner yet.”

you smile at him, trying to fight the warmth burning in your cheeks as you reach up to ruffle your fingers through his soft hair. he lets out a satisfied groan at the feeling, and it gives you an idea.

“do…” you trail off, suddenly unsure, until you see the warmth in chan’s eyes as he lays on top of you and it fills you with confidence again. “do you wanna continue this at my house? i’ve got the quietest room, and nobody will bother us.”

“mm.” he grins at the way you repeat his words from earlier, enamored with your shy yet playful tone. “if we’re at your place, does that mean i get to give you the noise complaint this time?”

“i’ll allow it.” you roll your eyes and pull yourself to sit up. “i need a shower, and i’m sure you would like one, too. plus i have food that hasn't been spilled on the floor or soaked in alcohol.”

he picks your shirt up off the floor and hands it to you with a smile, moving around his room with a quiet confidence you find unbearably hot. “does this mean anything to you, or is this just a tonight thing?” he asks.

you bite at your lip as you shimmy back into your jeans, shaky fingers sliding the button into place as you sit back down on the bed. “it does,” you reply simply. “you did tell me you'd buy me dinner, after all. i'm gonna hold you to that.”

he leans over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips. “and i plan on keeping that promise.”

you stumble your way through the house, squeezing chan’s hand tightly as he pulls you up the stairs, following him towards the door. you're not worried about anyone noticing you anymore: everyone's too wrapped up in their own business to care, including you. the party seems dulled now, the music fading and the people around you becoming blank faces. all you care about is chan, your eyes roving over his broad back muscles that peek through his shirt as you trail behind him. you must look no different than every other drunk college kid here with the giddy smile on your face, but you haven't had a drop of alcohol. it's just the effect he had on you.

finally you make it outside, and the cool night air feels sharp compared to the humidity inside the house. already it seems quieter as you start to walk the distance across the street, moving away from the party and towards the comfort of your own home. chan moves up beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist while you lead the way, but you're stopped once again by the same man from earlier.

“hey,” he greets chan, only sparing half a smirk in your direction but otherwise not bothering you, despite the heat that instantly rises in your cheeks at the fact that you were caught. “did you get my beer?”

“no. you said you were getting it yourself.” he rolls his eyes, and cheol whines and gives him a look that you swear almost looks like a pout. “if anyone asks about me, tell them i'm not home. tell them i had to…” he looks over at you with a cocky grin. “…had to go take care of something. noise complaint.”

cheol groans, making a face. “god, whatever. i don't want the details. but just don't make me stand outside next time. i'm doing you a favor here. i'm supposed to be working on my thesis.”

“sure,” chan replies, but he's still stuck staring at you, barely processing his friend's complaints. “yeah. anyway, i'll catch you tomorrow.”

he tugs gently on your waist and you start walking again, leaving cheol without so much as a goodbye or even a proper introduction. you'll deal with that later, you guess. there’s a lot of things you'll have to deal with, but at least the wild parties your neighbor boyfriend throws won't be one of them anymore.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[benevolentbones]

Haiii idk how to word this but basically season 10 spencer reid seeing reader in a backless dress nd hes all flustered but also really attracted to her ? idk if i worded this right sorryy

green dress | spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mention of scar, uncomfortable body image! fem reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for your request!! i hope you enjoy this<3 requests still open, im getting through them! reblogs n comments always appreciated <3

you’ve always been insecure about how you looked in dresses, especially backless ones.

a year or so ago when you were out on the field, an unsub had managed to corner you and stabbed you in the back resulting in a scar a few inches long that rested between your shoulder blades.

even before the incident you weren’t keen on showing off much skin, but now the scar made you even more self-conscious.

you often found yourself shying away from outfits that revealed too much, particularly those that might expose the mark left behind from that encounter.

the fear of judgment and the constant reminder of that day made it difficult for you to feel confident in anything but the most modest clothing, so when you went out dress shopping, and penelope pulled out a backless dress she could immediately sense your discomfort.

you were out with penelope and emily, using your very rare day off to go dress shopping for agent rossi’s annual ball he liked to host in his mansion.

a frown graced your features as penelope held up a simple dark green satin dress with a plunged neckline and, of course, it was backless.

emily noticed your frown, turning around in one of the many dresses she had tried on in the last hour. this one was by far the nicest, it hugged her nicely and the shade of red complimented her striking features.

“c’mon y/n, you’ll look so good.” emily hummed, smoothing down the dress on her form as she looked in the mirror.

“i- i don’t know guys- you know that’s not really my style.”

“oh but it could be- just try it on please!” penelope practically begged, shoving the soft fabric into your arms. despite your dislike for showing off your body, you knew this would make the girls happy so you obliged, stepping into the changing room and drawing the curtain closed.

penelope and emily waited anxiously for your return, still adorned in the dresses they were also trying on. penelope opted for a bright pink number, with many layers of tulle, very much her style.

you slid the curtain back, taking a step out and shuffling awkwardly towards the mirror where the girls sat. their expressions ranged from shock to excitement, penelope had a huge grin on her red stained lips.

“you look perfect!” she squealed out, adjusting her thick framed glasses to get a better look at you.

emily nodded in agreement, her dark eyes scanning how the dress hugged your form. “wow..you’ll be the prettiest at the party.” she chuckled.

you stood in front of the mirrors, turning slightly so you could get a look at how the dress sat on you. you had to admit, it suited your figure well, accentuating your curves. you turned to see the back of the dress, it cut rather low, stopping just before the small of your back.

your eyes flickered up to the scar on your back, you instinctively rolled your shoulder blades back. “i- i don’t know…” you mumbled out under your breath.

penelope shook her head. “you look amazing- you have to get it.”

still uncertain you sighed, “i feel so exposed- im not used to this.”

emily glanced towards penelope, a smirk turning up on her lips before she spoke. “that’s spencer’s favourite colour you know..” she muttered out half casually.

instantly you could feel a rush of warmth spread to your cheeks, the thought of spencer seeing you at the party in a dress like this made you nervous. you shot emily a fake glare which she returned with a knowing smile.

“so….yes to the dress?” penelope quizzed, eyes wide as she waited for your answer. you paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“fine..”

~

it was the night of the party. guests were arriving, music was blaring, derek and spencer were standing near the punch bowl.

as you walked in, you could feel the buzz of excitement in the air. the soft fabric of the dress clung to your skin, making you more aware of every movement you made. emily and penelope flanked you, their presence giving you a bit of courage.

you scanned the room, heart pounding, until your eyes landed on spencer. he was deep in conversation with derek, but as if sensing your gaze, he turned. his eyes widened slightly when he saw you, and a small, appreciative smile played on his lips.

spencer’s figure adorned a deep green suit, complimented with a black shirt and tie, the colour a few shades darker than the dress you were wearing. your eyes flickered away, as you whispered to penelope.

“did you know-“ she cut you off with a small smirk. a breath escaped your lips as you drew closer to the two men, emily and penelope not leaving your sides incase you decided to make a dash for it.

“wow you ladies look incredible.” morgan whistled lowly, penelope and emily as if on que, abandoned your side, linking arms with derek. “i’ll see you later lover boy.” morgan shot back to spencer as he lead the two women away from you.

spencer’s eyebrows furrowed at morgan’s comment, his gaze quickly fixing back on you.

spencer's eyes widened as they fell on you. his jaw dropped slightly, and a rosy hue crept up his neck to his cheeks. he fumbled for words, clearly flustered.

"y-you look... amazing," he finally managed to stammer out, his voice barely above a whisper.

you felt your own cheeks warm at his reaction, your heart fluttering. you took a step closer, your eyes meeting his, and you could see the genuine awe in his gaze.

"thank you, spencer" you replied softly, a shy smile playing on your lips. despite feeling so out of place and out of your comfort zone in the dress, the way spencer looked at you made you feel…confident.

he cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "i mean, —you always look nice, but tonight... you look... stunning."

the sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. spencer, usually so composed and articulate, was completely gobsmacked, and it was all because of you.

his gaze shifted to the dress again, now noticing the low cut, how it showed off your back and the scar between your shoulder blades. he felt a surge of warmth rush to his cheeks, his breath practically getting caught in his throat.

"i, uh," he started, his eyes still locked on you, "i didn't expect... i mean, wow." he let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, soft brown locks falling over his face.

"it's just a dress…” you said, though you felt a thrill at his reaction.

"no," he shook his head, his gaze unwavering, "it's not just the dress. it's you. you're... breathtaking— you’ve always been breathtaking.”

his words left you momentarily speechless, the intensity of his gaze making you feel both exhilarated and shy. you took another bold step closer, your hands lightly brushing against his.

"spencer, i.." you began, but the words failed you. instead, you let your eyes speak for you, hoping he could see the effect he had on you.

he took a deep breath, his fingers trembling as they curled around yours. “—you’re- god.. you’ve always been so beautiful- and i should’ve said something earlier— told you sooner..”

your eyes widened as he spoke, the taller man taking a step closer to you, his hand resting at your waist, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin on the backless dress. your breath hitched slightly at his warm grasp.

“i— fuck.” he mumbled out, for once in his life spencer found himself unable to formulate a sentence, to describe how he felt about you. he had longed for you, for months, years even..and now he had the chance to just tell you.

your eyes flickered over his facial expression, the pale pink hue deepened as he brought his gaze back to meet yours. his dark eyes traveled down to your lips once more.

he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you right now, the way the light made your skin glow, how the dress wrapped around your body- the low cut back, it was all too much for him.

spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it was gentle at first, filled with the unspoken feelings you both had kept hidden for so long.

as the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of warmth and happiness, a feeling of rightness settling over you. his hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the moment.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna

[seungfl0wer]

*Use As You Please*

Pairing: OT8 x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Pure smut (Not much of any plot)

Warnings: Slightly Proofread, Creampie, Unprotected sex, Face fucking, Oral (M&F), Hickeys, dirty talk, lots of pet names, degrading, spanking, Double Penetration, Slight public, slight choking. I’m for sure missing some :(

This is a highly requested Part 2 to “Our Toy” which is from my 1K Series Event you can find the master list here. I hope it lives up to the love of the first one. I appreciate how much you guys loved it. It’s so crazy to me tbh.

-🩵

Sleepily waking up, rubbing your eyes as you stretch out. Your boyfriend’s arms pulling you close to him “stop moving” he whined. You groaned trying to pull away “Channie I gotta pee” you tried pulling away again. “Fine fine” he said pouting as he let go of you. You kissed his head softly before running towards the bathroom.

You opened the door to find Hyunjin taking a shower “ah come to join me beautiful?” He asked with a smile pulling the curtain back. “No gotta pee” you rolled your eyes sitting down at the toilet. After you were done you went to wash your hands. You saw the door creak open Chan rubbing the back of his head. “Princess you take too long” he groaned. You rolled your eyes again wiping your hands off after washing them making your way towards him. “I was gone for like a minute” you teased kissing his cheek.

“Y/n my shower is so lonely” hyunjin whined not realizing Chan had come in. Chan laughed a bit “how about we join Hyune?” He asked smirking at you. You nod, giggling at the thought of Chan going first. “Alright Hyune gonna join you” you smiled dropping your clothes along with Chan.

As Chan got in you heard Hyunjin scream “Yah! What are you doing in here?” He whined as he opened the curtain to see you standing there “I only wanted her.” Chan couldn’t help but laugh “well you got us both, gonna have to share Hyune” he says taking your hand to lead you into the shower.

As soon as you got in Hyunjin pulled you to him, kissing you lovingly. His hands quickly gripping at your hips pressing your body as close to his as he could. His hand came up to cup your face deepening the kiss as his cock laid against your soft leg. He started to rut against your leg his cock becoming hard at the feeling as he darted his tongue between your lips. Chan groaned at the sight of you two, his hand running down his body stroking himself as he watched. He slowly moved to the other side of you running his free hand down to your core.

He let his fingers circle your clit as you let out small moans against hyunjin’s lips. “I woke up from such a hot dream about you love” hyunjin said as he pulled away. “Need you so badly” he continued as he kissed down your body. He looked up at you as he gently licked against your folds. Chans fingers still toying with your clit. Hyunjin started to sloppily eat you out, tongue darting inside you.

Chan turned his body to kiss you sucking to bottom of your lip. You took your hand moving Chans out of the way as you stroked his hard cock. He let out a groan against your lips before slipping his tongue past them. Hyunjin could feel your legs becoming shaky so he put your legs around his shoulder. Letting him taste you even deeper as he moved his hips into nothing. He looked up at the scene above him making him groan.

“God I can’t take it anymore need- need you” Hyunjin whined putting your legs around him now as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds. “Let me” Chan said trailing off as he moved behind you keeping you steady. Hyunjin pushed into you quickly bottoming out, his head flung back at the feeling. “Shit- feels s’good” he said as he started to thrust into you. Chans hands played your nipples as he sucked on your neck. “Doesn’t she? She’s perfect” Chan coo’d. Hyunjin nodded moaning out as he felt you clenching around him.

“Fuck y/n you’re- so tight” he said pushing deep into you. “Ah- ah fuck hyune so- s’good” you stuttered out. Chan smirked he had this devilish gleam in his eye. “hyune you ever double with her?” He asked the other man. Hyunjin shook his head no making Chans smirk grow even wider “she’s even tighter, even louder like that”

Not even a few seconds later they were both deep inside you fucking your hole maliciously. All three of you letting out strings of curse words, moans and names. “Fuck- you- you were right- shit I’m so close already” hyunjin whined out the feeling becoming too much for him. Chan chuckled a bit “yeah- me too. This ways so fucking hot ugh- and wait till we both fill her” he said.

Your brain was so foggy so much pleasure was washing over you. You were so close your body was becoming so sensitive. The feeling of both their cocks hitting every sweet spot of yours driving you over the edge. Your high hit you like a truck your body jolted and twitched as you almost screamed out their names. The feeling of you cuming was enough to pull Hyunjin to his own high. You clenched so tightly around them as you came making Hyunjin twitch inside of you pushing as deep as he could to cum. He threw his head back once again, eyes rolling back as he came.

The sight infront of him drove him crazy, the warmth of both of your highs was bringing Chan close to his. The noises hyunjin was making at the feeling of Chan still moving as both of their cocks were still inside of you. “Gonna take my cum too princess hmm? You took hyune’s so well.” He said wrapping his hand around your neck to pull you into a kiss. Hyunjin started to rub your little nub as Chan fucked you sloppily. Another wave about to wash over you as the cord in your stomach was about to snap you felt Chan twitch inside you.

His cum pumping deep into you “shit- shit princess” he moaned out as he felt you clench around him cuming as he came.

You all panted body’s just laying against each other before Chan broke the silence. “How about we take an actual shower now?” He suggested with a laugh from all three of you.

——————

“Y/n stop moving” the pretty blonde boy said below you. It was his idea though, to have you sit on his lap while he gamed. You couldn’t help move, he was twitch in his sweats wanting nothing more to be free. “Yeah! You’re sucking so bad what the hell are you-“ Seungmin started to say as he flung the door open seeing why Felix was so distracted.

Seungmin had pulled you off of him making him whine as he sat beside him. “If you win this next game maybe I’ll forgive you” he said to the other man. He looked at you “and as for you, for distracting him I have something you can do” he said with a smirk.

As Felix tried his best to game seungmin had you on your knees fucking into your mouth. “See lix- ah- if you win she can- can do this to you. Or even ride you while- you play” he groaned out. As you took him deeper his head dropped back pushing his cock as far as it could go. You gagged tears pricking as he let out the most sinful sound you’d ever heard come from him.

He looked down at you with hooded eyes as he pulled you up to him. “Shorts off” he said his voice hot. You could see how painfully hard Felix was at this point. “Can I ride you and help Lixie?” You asked seungmin with big puppy eyes. “Yeah yeah I guess” he said pushing you down onto him filling you fully. You both let out a loud moan at the feeling. He gave you little to no time before he started to move. You leaned down kissing Felix first before pulling his cock out. “Ah Lixie you’re so hard” you said before taking him into your mouth.

Felix closed his eyes moaning as he ran his hands through your hair holding it back so he could see your pretty face. He let you go at your own pace as seungmin fucked you deep. The sound of a smack echoed as seungmin spanked your ass “fuck- you’re so wet baby” he said soothing where he had hit. “This all from sitting on lix?” He said with a grin. When you nod softly it makes Felix moan at the thought. “Ah angel- I need” Felix let out as his hips bucked upwards hitting the back of your throat like the other had not to long ago.

“Shit I’m close” Seungmin said pulling out quickly. He pulled you off of Felix making him whine before turning you to face him. “Sit, let Felix have what he wants I’ll use your mouth.” He said before you could protest Felix was pulling you onto him pushing himself so desperately into you. He bottomed out right away his cock so sensitive. As you moaned seungmin took the opportunity to push into your mouth. With just a few thrust he was filling your mouth with his hot liquid making you drink it all.

“You did so well for me baby. You milk Felix for all he’s got now” he said with a chuckle before pushing you down as far as you could on Felix’s cock. He leaned down playing with your clit as Felix fucked you at just the perfect angle. “Ah- uha- cu- cumming!” You all but screamed out as you came fast and hard around Felix’s cock. Seungmin let out another chuckle watching you come undone. Felix gripped your hips tightly as he let out one more thrust before cumming deep inside of you. He laid his head on your back wrapping his arms around you as you tried catching your breath.

Seungmin got up and walked towards the door “alright lix get your head in the game we got to get you out of bronze” the man teased before walking out. “Lix you ok?” You asked feeling him still breathing heavy “y-yeah that was just hot as fuck” he said with a small laugh.

——————

You were in the kitchen getting a snack when you felt a pair of hands wrap around you. “Hello there my beautiful bunny” changbin said against your ear. “You really think it’s a good idea to be walking around in just a shirt hmm?” He asked with a small chuckle as he slid his hands up the back of it. “Ooh and you’re even wearing cute little pink panties? Must be a sign” he said kissing your neck so sweetly. “Binnie” you said softly as you felt his hand ghostly move over your clothes clit.

“What’s wrong bunny?” He said as he moved the panties to sink his fingers into your core. Your body moved forward at the feeling his fingers slowly moving inside you. He let a small smack to your ass before he started to suck softly on your neck. His free hand coming up to cup your breast as he moved his fingers inside you. You could feel his hard on against your ass wanting nothing more to be stuffed fully by it. You let out a small whimper “need-“ you said softly.

“Hmm? What do you need bunny?” He said moving his thumb over your clit. “Tell me what my little bunny needs” you said his voice hot against your skin. “You. Need Binnie-“ you said making him chuckle a bit. “Yeah? I’m right here silly” he said as his fingers moved fast inside of you curling at your sensitive spot making your body twitch. “No- need- inside” you choked out feeling your high getting close. “What exactly do you need? Gotta say it my pretty”

“Ah Binnie please need you- need your cock- please fuck me” you whined out. He smiled as he spun you around kissing you softly. He dropped his pants wrapping your legs around him as he pushed himself into you. “All my bunny needed was to be stuffed?” He teased his hand cupping your face to look at him “my little bunny is so needy.” Before you could respond Changbin was snapping his hip in and out of you. Stretching you with his girth as he bottomed out quickly. “Fuck- and I was gonna go to the gym to” he laughed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a loving kiss as he fucked deep into you. His hands slinking down to your clit rubbing it feverishly as he felt you clench around him. “Bunny gonna cum? Gonna make a mess of my cock?” He said against your lips. You nod looking up at him “feel so good bin, you make me feel so good so full.” This made his head spin as he started to thrust sloppily into you.

Bin loved when you talked like this loving praise from you. “Yeah? Feels good hmm? It’s cause my bunny was made for my cock” he said as he sloppily kissed your neck. He pushed your shirt up over your tits so he could nibble at your nipples. He was getting lost quickly as he pumped deep into you. He groaned moving his hand over your clit faster. “Make a mess of me bunny please ah- fuck cum for me bunny! I’m-“ he moaned out as he came deep inside of you. Your body clenched around him milking him dry as you quickly came around him.

“Shit bunny- I’m sorry” he said kissing you with a smile “you really just looked so good standing in here I couldn’t help myself.” He said grabbing a towel for you. You giggled “now you don’t gotta go to the gym at least”

——————

“What if someone sees?” Han said as looking up at the older man. “Isn’t that the fun of it?” Minho smirked looking down at him. Jeongin rolled his eyes “it’s dark out and we are in the woods no one’s gonna see dummy.” He said to Han. “Shed probably like it anyways” Minho teased looking at you now.

Minho had invited you to go camping with him. The trip turned into the four of you after Han blabbed about wanting to go too and Jeongin joined because he wanted some quiet time. This camping trip had turned into an all out fuck fest of course though. Minho had you against the camper hand lazily around your neck. Han was under you sloppily eating you out as your hand slowly pumped jeongins half hardened cock.

Minho pulled you away making Han whine loudly “Han lay down” he said giving the other man a look. Han quickly did so as Minho guided you towards him having you hover over his face. “Ah fuck this is perfect” Han all but moaned out as he wrapped his arms around your thighs diving into your cunt. He started to eat you out like some hungry animal.

The other two men stood on either side of you. You left little kisses on jeongin cock before Minho took your hand to place it on his now exposed cock. They took turned fucking your mouth jeongin a bit softer as he did it but not by much. Jeongin grabbed the back of your head as he fucked into your mouth. The moans you were leaving out vibrating around him.

“Need” Han groaned out before he moved his body under you. He moved so you were now hovering over his cock. He pushed you down bottoming out right away as he watched you get used by the other men. “Hannie you’re so needy I swear” Minho laughed. “Ah you know what- yeah I am she- fuck she just feels s’good” he groaned thrusting upwards into you. You started to moan louder eyes almost rolling back into your head. Jeongin moved some hair from your face looking down at you as his cock disappeared into your mouth.

“Move over this way a bit” Minho said kneeling down a bit. Han did so making it easier for Minho to get in position. “Want filled kitten hmm? Wanna fill me and jisungie fill this cunt up?” Minho teased as he smacked your clit with his cock. You whined out nodding softly. Minho pushed quickly into you making Han and you moan. “Ah- uh uh fuck right s’tight” Han babbled.

Jeongin watched as both the men fucked you so well. He could feel himself getting closer but he wanted to cum inside you, needed to do so. So he pulled out watching what was happening as you slowly stroked him. Minho was pounding mercilessly into you as Han almost laid limp under his cock twitched overstimulated and ready to burst. Minho was also close, the feeling of how tight you get mixed with the situation bringing him close quicker than normal.

“Y/n! Fuck- ah you take us so well fuck- you’re such- such a little slut for us huh?” Minho rambled “taking 2 cocks at once and having innie too? Ah- such a little slut” Minho groaned gripping at your thighs as he played with your clit “Jisungie you still alive?” Jeongin chuckled. Han nodded looking up at him eyes glazed over. You moved your leg slightly but that movement made you open even more. Both the men hit your g-spot, your body shook as you felt your high about to crash into you but not before Han.

He babbled “cu-mming gon fill you- gonna fill you so full fuck baby.” He couldn’t hold it back anymore his high hit him hard his body shaking under you as he painted pretty pictures on your walls. The warmth from his cum made and the way your walls clenched made Minho see stars. “Shit- fuck how- how’d you get even- fucking tighter-“ he groaned pushing deep into you. He gave it a few more thrusts before he was pumping deep into you. “That’s it kitten- take it all” he coo’d.

Both the men moved lying down on the ground seeing stars and actually seeing starts in the sky. Before you could come back to earth jeongin was thrusting deep into you. He was already so sloppy he just wanted more than to cum inside of you. He loved it, loved filling you so full you gushed from his cock. He started to play with your clit, he pulled you to him making out as he sloppily fucked into you. You felt like you’d go crazy at this point all the pleasure being overwhelming.

“Cum with me beautiful, please” Jeongin said softly against your lips as he thrusted one more time cumming, his cum mixing with the other twos. You were so full, so drenched in everything from sweat, cum and probably some spit. Your legs became shaky as your high washed over you, you squirting over Jeongin cock. He was in awe at the sight the liquids coating his cock and torso. Your body trembled, you were so sensitive and your high was so strong. Minho pulled you away picking you up bringing you back into the camper.

“Drink some water” he said handing you a bottle as he grabbed a towel to clean you. “You two, you’re on cuddle doody while I find some food for us” he said the other boys happily coming to each of your sides to cuddle up to you. Minho leaned down and kissed your head “did so well for us kitten, you rest ok?”

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16