#I like drawing kisses I should do it more

[plutotheplum]

Red Tape

mma fighter!sylus x manager!reader

summary: the man you're in charge of is somewhat of a handful (...and a mouthful).

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, dirty talk, oral sex - m! and f!receiving, praise kink, p in v, masturbation, size difference, size kink, mild choking

wc: 8.8k

a/n: pulled his grasslands card and nghhh he's so fine and big. lowkey think i wrote too much. hope you guys like it! <3

also on ao3!

The sounds of limbs colliding and loud grunts of exertion fill the air as you step inside the training gym.

You let your eyes scan the expanse of it, eyes narrowing to try and find the white-haired man you’re in charge of. You eventually spot him, red tape wrapped around his hands as he works with his trainer, throwing punches of varying strength against the boxing pads.

Heels clacking against the floor, you approach Sylus, standing off to the side as you watch him train. His moves are calculated and sharp, never allowing for any stray hits to pass through. It’s how Sylus has managed to stay at the top of the rankings for the past few years. He had risen quickly, his strength and technique acknowledged by those around him, supporters and rivals alike. 

You’d been his manager for a total of two years. It’d been outlined in a fortunate job posting that you’d deemed interesting enough to apply for. Back then you had wondered whether he’d be difficult, but Sylus was annoying at most and actually acknowledged your judgement. 

“How am I looking?” Sylus calls out to you, stepping away from his trainer and grabbing a bottle of cold water to press against his neck.

“Good,” you reply, watching as he steps out from under the ropes of the boxing ring, his tall frame approaching yours.

“Just good?” he asks, peering down at you.

You roll your eyes, reaching for his hand to undo the tape that covers his fingers. “Fine. Better than good. We both know you’re at the top of your form these days.”

Sylus hums in agreement, his fingers flexing once you unwrap the tape. You do the same for his other hand, gathering the discarded tape and rolling it up into a ball. He drinks down the bottle of cold water, throat bobbing as he does so.

“Who am I up against tonight?” Sylus asks, slumping down into a nearby chair.

His muscles are taut from training, a sheen of sweat covering his body. You can’t look away when he pulls his tank top over his head, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he reaches for a towel to sling around the back of his neck and wipe his face dry.

“First few matches should be fine,” you tell him, drawing your eyes away from his sculpted body to look down at your phone, “final match might be a little hard. Xavier.”

Sylus sighs, running his hand through his damp hair as he glances at you. “He’s fast.” 

“Not as fast as you,” you say, shaking your head.

He grins, leaning towards you. “It’s sweet my manager has such faith in me,” he drawls.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, pushing his head back when he gets a little too close for comfort, his crimson eyes boring into yours intently. 

“I’m more concerned about my paycheck.”

“I make you twice as much money than you would at a shitty desk job,” Sylus replies, thighs  spreading as he gets comfortable.

“Try making it triple,” you grin back at him, tossing him another bottle of water as you stand up. 

Sylus catches it effortlessly, pressing it against his forehead this time. He slouches a little more and you dig through his bag beside you, handing him a protein bar. You let your gaze drift as he rests, watching as the other men train in the gym. 

Some throw punches, others duck to avoid getting hit. You were well aware of the fact that Sylus had his own personal boxing ring, and yet he preferred to train here, in front of other men. An intimidation tactic or simply personal preference, you didn’t know. All in all, you were grateful that Sylus’ performance was consistent. You hardly had to involve yourself, a new rush of sponsorships flooding your email in the days following his matches. 

“Remember to rest,” you say to him when he stands up and rolls his shoulders, his muscles rippling.

“I’m a professional,” Sylus replies dryly, his hand landing on your head heavily as he grants you a few pats.

You scoff, swatting his hand away, trying to smooth down the strands of your hair. The view of his bare, broad back is appreciated however, your greedy eyes following the boxer as he slips past the ropes of the boxing ring again. It doesn't exactly fall under the job description to ogle the man you’re in charge of, but Sylus is unfairly handsome, and innocent glances never hurt anyone.

-

The thrum of the arena is electrifying. 

You can feel the beat of the music match the pulse of your heart as you stand outside Sylus' locker room, checking your phone every now and then. The door swings open after a few moments and you step inside, finding Sylus sitting on the steel bench. 

His legs bounce, his hands clasped together, head hanging low. All boxers had their own ritual, and you weren’t about to interrupt his. Instead, you strike up a quiet conversation with his trainer, waiting for Sylus to finish up.

Sylus waves you over after a few moments and you’re already undoing the red tape from its roll, winding it around his fingers so that it sticks properly. He flexes his fingers experimentally, giving you a nod and you move to his other hand, fingers brushing against his.

“Take it easy out there,” you murmur, lifting his hand to smooth out the creases in the tape.

“I always take it easy,” Sylus says, sending you a devilish grin.

It’s not exactly true. Sylus likes to show off, you think he might like the thrill of it. Carefully placed embellished hits do make for great television after all. 

“Besides,” he continues, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs to pull you between his legs, “I have my lucky charm with me.”

You let out an awkward laugh, squirming out of his grasp although he seems reluctant to let go. His trainer seems to catch the little interaction between you, and you clear your throat, taking another step back.

“Manager. I’m your manager .”

“You can be both,” he retorts, standing up.

Sylus bounces on the balls of his feet for a few moments, his shoulders rolling and head tilting to get rid of any cricks in his neck. He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, snowy hair disappearing, his face darkening. An announcement blares through the locker room and he’s moving out, with you and the rest of his team trailing after him.

You’ve lost count of how many matches of his you’ve attended, but somehow the nerves don’t ease, the knot of uncertainty tightening in your stomach. He’s more than capable of handling the blows hurled at him but there’s a part of you that can’t help but worry about an opponent playing dirty and landing a blow that he can’t recover from.

He excels through the first stages as expected. Most of his opponents for the first few rounds are amateurs at most, making clumsy mistakes that end up giving Sylus an opening to finish them off. 

Xavier is more of a challenge. He’s quick on his feet, easily sidestepping and making short, sharp jabs that have Sylus keeping his distance. You wince when Xavier lands a blow to Sylus’ face, hard enough to make his lip split. Blood runs down his chin, but Sylus is catching the rivulets of blood with his tongue and finding your eyes through the sea of faces, his grin cocky albeit bloody. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. His eyes glint at the challenge, your warning to “take it easy” all but forgotten as he lands a heavy punch to Xavier’s abdomen. Xavier stumbles back, doubling over in pain but he straightens out just as quickly.

A few more punches are thrown, but Sylus wins the first round, thankfully. He’s waving you over during the rest period, crouching down. 

You lean forward, letting him whisper into your ear, the sheer loudness of the crowd making it difficult to hear him.

“Need you to fix my tape.”

You nod, pulling off his boxing gloves and undoing the tape around his fingers to wrap it a bit tighter.

“Better?” you ask, peering up at him.

Sylus nods, and you motion for him to bend his head a little more. You press a damp towelette against his split lip. He hisses at the feeling, jaw clenching.

“He’s weak on his left-side,” you murmur, wiping away the blood that’s dripped down his chin.

“You’re not one to give me tips,” he says.

“Seems like you need it,” you whisper, “you’re performing poorly, Sylus.” 

That seems to set him off a little, his brows furrowing for a moment before he schools his features back into something more neutral. He reaches out for you, his large hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes widen, trying to take a step back but it’s too late, your flushed face is being broadcast on the large screens.

The crowd seems just as surprised as you are, the raucous chatter quietening for a moment as they watch. 

His lips brush over your ear as he speaks, his breath warm and heavy. “I’ll make you triple.”

Sylus lets go of you, and you shoot a wane smile to the camera that’s been trained on you both. It’s convincing enough for the crowd to lose attention as the second round starts.

As the match drags on, it becomes evident as to what Sylus is doing. He’s toying with his opponent, letting Xavier think he has the upper hand when really it’s Sylus that’s controlling the pace. Sylus lets Xavier get one last hit in before he’s retaliating, hard and fast, his opponent’s body crumpling to the floor. When Xavier fails to rise, cheers erupt, Sylus’ name being chanted throughout the arena, crazed fans jumping up and down as the referee holds his arm up.

There’s sweat dripping from Sylus’ brow when you find him back in the locker room. The reporters had loved his post-fight interview, his smug grin supersized on the large screens in the arena. A medic kneels beside him, examining his body carefully to eliminate the possibility of any injuries worsening.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus smiles, his head tipped back, resting against the tiled wall. “I won, didn’t I?”

Frustration pricks at your skin and your eyes narrow, feeling tempted to slap the stupid smile right off of his face.

“Don’t be like that,” Sylus coos, brushing off the medic attending to him without a second glance and reaching for you. “You wanted triple, I made you triple.”

“I- I wasn’t being serious !” you hiss, trying to tug your wrist free.

Sylus’ grip only tightens, tugging you down so that your face nears his. You swallow harshly, his scarlet eyes somehow brighter under the light.

“You said I was performing poorly,” he murmurs, “I did what you wanted.” His fingers unfurl, stroking the inside of your wrist. The hint of a smirk plays on the side of his mouth when he sees how rigid you’ve become. “Besides,” his voice lowers a bit more so as to stop others from hearing, “you liked it when I smiled at you.”

His fingers smooth over your skin a few more times, dragging down to spread across the expanse of your palm. Sylus can spot the haze that glosses over your eyes, the way you extend your arm towards him slightly, chasing more of his touch. 

You think you could’ve stayed like that forever if not for his physical therapist that’s bundled inside the locker room, pushing you aside. His fingers fall away from yours and you snatch your hand back, tucking it behind your back. Sylus looks like he wants to say something, but you’re turning on your heel to escape the oppressive atmosphere, feeling as though you’ve been smothered. 

The cool night air is welcome when you burst through the doors of the arena, chest rising as you take in a deep lungful to calm the storm of emotions swirling in your mind. It’s a strictly professional relationship, you remind yourself, muttering under your breath and nodding along to your rampant thoughts to soothe yourself.

“Professional,” you whisper, staring at your hand as though it were a traitor, “I am a professional .”

Your fingers tingle in response, the phantom sensation of his fingers spreading out across your wrist. A sharp scoff leaves you, wiping your hand against your skirt. Unfortunately, your mind is all over the place and remembering Sylus’ bloody grin is enough to send a rush of heat through your body. 

The sound of someone’s shoes shuffling in the distance has your ears perking up, but you don’t pay it any mind, too frustrated with yourself. Sylus is irritating, but it doesn’t stop your heart from racing whenever you think about him. You’d never meant for the stupid, little crush to flourish into something bigger, but ever since he’d asked you to stick around, things had gotten complicated.

Truth is, Sylus hadn’t lost a single match ever since you’d begun to wrap his hands for him. It’s why he has you wrap them now, every match without fail. You didn’t exactly believe in this superstition of his, but he was adamant, refusing to fight unless it was you that was winding the red tape around his fingers. 

The scuffling noise grows louder and your brows furrow, trying to spot where it’s coming from.

“Ya lookin’ really pretty, miss,” a raspy voice sounds, an unfamiliar man stepping out of the dark.

The stench of tobacco is strong and you’re taking a step back, sending him an uneasy smile. He smiles back, yellowed teeth becoming visible, and you fight a grimace, trying to stop your lip from curling up in disgust. You spy the automatic doors from the corner of your eye, but the man reaches for you before you can make it to safety, holding onto you tight.

“Let me go!” you say, sounding panicked.

He only grunts, trying to pull you towards him. You pull back, gritting your teeth when his fingers dig into you.

“Ease up, pretty,” the man leers.

If anything, this whole situation was Sylus’ fault. You’re angry at yourself, at Sylus, and now at this disgusting man who was trying to take advantage of you.

“You’re pathetic,” your voice is a harsh hiss, fear giving way to resentment. 

“Now, that is not very nice,” he replies, “why don’t you smile for me? A real one this time.”

Your eye twitches at the sheer audacity of his words, teeth gritting together. You’ve never punched anyone before, but tonight might be a good time to start. 

“Fuck you.” 

Before your fist can land, there’s a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. You don’t have to look to know who it is. Sylus’ arm shoots out instead, punching the man in the face. He staggers back, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor with a heap. Blood wets his hand and he groans, clutching his nose. You hope it’s broken. 

“You okay?” Sylus murmurs, stepping in front of you and blocking the man from sight.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, frowning. “I was handling it.”

“I’m sure you were,” he says lightly, gaze dipping over you.

The man makes a noise of disgruntlement, a security guard hauling the man up onto his feet. You try to poke your head out from Sylus’ side, but he doesn’t let you, holding your wrist to distract you. He smooths his fingers over where the man had been gripping you, his touch firm and insistent, soothing the reddened imprints on your skin.

“Let me take you home,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers brushing against yours gently.

“I can take care of myself,” you retort.

Sylus doesn’t let you escape this time, tucking your hair behind your ear before he’s guiding you towards his bike. 

“Wait! Were you even cleared?”

“I’m not injured,” Sylus says, shoving a helmet down over your head. 

“But- but my car!” you protest.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran take care of it.”

The mention of the twins makes it more likely for something to go wrong. There’s a good chance they’ll end up totalling your car, or losing your belongings. You don’t even know why Sylus took them on, but they had succeeded in becoming unofficial trainees under Sylus’ guidance. 

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing the helmet up. Sylus doesn’t let you, his hand shoving it back down before he’s picking you up and setting you down on his bike.

“I’m your manager!” you grouse in a last ditch effort.

“I’m well aware,” Sylus replies, swinging his leg over his bike.

You squeal when he takes off, arms wrapping around his middle tightly, eyes squeezing shut as the wind whips around you. He knows where your apartment is, having visited a few times when you’d asked him to stop by to sign some pressing paperwork.

His bike slows to a soft purr as it stops by the curb outside your apartment complex. His bike is annoyingly difficult to dismount and you grunt, struggling. You manage to land, although on shaky feet, your knees buckling for a moment. Sylus laughs, catching you by the waist before you hit the floor. The heat of his body has your breath hitching, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for stability.

“You’re too clumsy,” he murmurs, squeezing your sides gently, “take it easy.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes when he uses your own words against you.

“Really.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, voice softening.

All you can do is nod, heart fluttering at the gentle look in his eyes. He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to determine whether you’re lying. When you don’t say anything, he pulls you closer, his hands rubbing up and down your waist soothingly.

“I didn’t mean it,” you mumble out, feeling shy, “you- you were great tonight.”

“Yeah?”

You hum in response, giving him another nod. Sylus’ hands drift lower, past the line of professionalism. He stares down at you, his head tilting. Your lungs seem to have lost their ability to function at full capacity, quick, uneven breaths leaving you as your hands tighten into his jacket. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper, voice barely audible when the tip of his nose brushes yours.

“Determining your wellbeing,” Sylus says smoothly. 

“I’m fine, seriously.”

“Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is heaving” he whispers. Sylus’ hand has begun to wander, tracing down your neck, pushing apart the collar of your blouse to trail lower, his eyes drinking in your cleavage hungrily. He lets out a low laugh when you twitch in his arms. “You seem... unwell .”

“I’m fine !” you push away from his chest, patting your hot cheeks to try and cool them.

He raises his brows silently, but follows you into your apartment complex all the same, despite your protests. Something about ensuring your safety. Thankfully, he keeps his distance when he steps into the elevator with you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. 

The air is tense and you sneak a glance up at him to find him staring back at you. Your gaze snaps back, embarrassment rushing through your body, wishing the floor would just do you a favor and swallow you up.

Sylus doesn’t come in when you open the door, watching as you kick off your heels and rub at your sore ankles. He just stares , leaning against the doorframe. 

“Thank you,” you say, breaking through the awkwardness of the air, “for bringing me home and- and taking care of that guy, but I definitely had it handled.”

He gives you a lazy smile, his head dropping to rest against the doorframe as well. 

“You're welcome.”

“Okay, well, you- you can go now,” you say, gesturing with your hands and pushing at his chest to get him to leave.

Sylus doesn’t budge, his lips pursing as he stares down at you. The height difference is all the more noticeable since you’ve taken off your heels. His hand reaches out, landing on your waist.

“Come see me.”

“ What ?”

“Come see me,” Sylus repeats, “I’ll teach you how to punch.”

“I- I don’t need to learn how to punch,” you sputter, shaking your head vehemently. 

“If you had punched that man, you would’ve broken your thumb,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your neck to cup your cheek. “You need me.”

You can’t help your eyes from fluttering shut, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Sylus lets you, his thumb running over your cheek gently. You find that he’s gotten closer when you open your eyes, his lips parted. Rising up on the tips of your toes, you let your nose nudge his, wanting him to kiss you, consequences be damned.

Sylus smiles, a soft laugh leaving him when he pulls back, drawing up to his full height. “You’re my manager.”

You’re too stunned to reply, unable to get any words out as you watch him walk back towards the elevator. He gives a wave of his fingers, disappearing from sight. You stare at the empty hallway for a moment, letting out a frustrated scoff and scrubbing your hand over your face. 

Exhaustion weighs your body down and you’re crawling into bed after showering, tugging the blankets up over yourself. The incessant ache between your thighs keeps you from falling asleep and you’re acutely aware of how empty you feel.

It’s why your hand is creeping down into your sleep shorts, a soft noise spilling into the quiet air when you find you’re already wet. Sylus’ face flashes through your mind, and instead of pushing it away, you focus on it. You rub your clit, slowly at first, savoring the sensation as you imagine his lazy smile.

The image shifts however, and now you’re imagining him between your thighs, your hand in his white hair as he licks over your cunt. It has your back arching, fingers rubbing against your clit faster as you moan.

“Fuck,” you whimper, stroking over your clit gently, the sensation making your thighs twitch.

Your imagination has begun to run rampant, imagining his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks into you, his mouth on your body, on your lips, against your ear whispering filth. You stuff two fingers into your pussy, fucking them in and out desperately. You have no doubt Sylus’ fingers would reach deeper. 

You need him, you need him desperately . You think about him shoving your face into the pillows, palming your ass and sinking his cock into you. You think about his body flush against yours, his hands stroking your hair as he humps his hips into you. He’s just so big , his weight on top of yours would most likely make you lose your mind. Slick pours out of your cunt rapidly, whimpers filling in the air with how sensitive you’ve become.

“Sylus!” you moan his name as you cum, body shuddering.

Panting, you stare up at the ceiling, a frustrated whine slipping out of you when you realize how pathetically you’re acting. The haze of your orgasm doesn’t let your mind linger on the thought for any longer, your eyes drooping shut as you fall asleep.

-

You’re too weak to resist.

It’s how you’ve ended up here, inside his personal boxing ring, with him adjusting the tape on your hands. He’d suggested boxing gloves, but they’d kept slipping off with how big they were.

Your body stiffens when he steps up behind you. Sylus has you feeling like a fool as you hold your arms up, bent at the elbows, hands curled into fists. You meet his gaze through the mirror and he simply smirks, his chest pressing against your back as he fixes your form.

“Thumbs outside,” he murmurs, prying your fist open to tug your thumb free, “you’ll break them otherwise.”

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you mutter, tensing when his fingers trail down your side.

“Self-defense is always necessary,” he replies.

You bite back a whine when his large hand curls around your hip, his palm pushing gently as he gets you to shift your stance.

“When you throw a punch, you have to pivot,” Sylus says, his other hand dropping to the other side of your hips. “Keep your shoulders relaxed, if you’re too tense the hit won’t be as powerful.”

You can’t exactly relax when he’s hovering behind you. Sylus squeezes your hips and you don't know whether he’s actually trying to teach you or whether he’s simply being a horrible man and setting off your poor touch-starved body. 

“Wrist straight,” he continues, stepping away. “Put your body weight into it, and remember to pivot, okay?”

A simple nod is all that leaves you and he stands in front of you, holding his hands up. You can’t help but feel insulted.

“At least put the boxing pads on,” you mutter, feeling miffed.

“Hit me,” Sylus orders instead.

You lean forward, hips twisting as you put as much of your body weight into the punch as you can, shoulder rippling forward as you punch his hand.

“What are you trying to hurt, a fly?” he drawls, shooting you an unimpressed look. “Again.”

“I could have your reputation ruined,” you hiss back, adjusting your position. You let your hips pivot again, cheeks flushed with irritation as your arm shoots forward, punching his hand.

“Better.”

A satisfied huff sounds and you cross your arms over your chest triumphantly. It’s the little things in life, you think. Sylus rolls his eyes, his finger nudging at your forehead.

“Let’s just hope you don’t run into any more unsavory characters.”

“There’s plenty of other ways to defend myself,” you retort. “Pepper spray, tasers, and well, men always tend to have a weakness.” You point to the spot between his thighs.

Sylus looks down to where you’re gesturing, a laugh breaking out of him when he realizes what you’re implying. 

“Not always,” he says and your eyes widen when he suddenly approaches you. Sylus places his hand over your mouth, spinning you around so that he’s practically draped over your back. “Get out of this.”

It’s hard to move when he has you pinned against him like this, but you shift your arm, driving your elbow back into his side hard . Sylus grunts, his grip loosening on you just for a moment. It’s the fraction of a second that you need, leg lifting as you stomp his foot harshly. He lets out a pained groan, and your leg kicks out again, landing a blow to his knee. 

Sylus buckles onto the mat of the boxing ring and part of you can’t believe you’ve managed to bring him down. You hover over him, almost feeling bad for the man as he clutches his knee.

A sigh of a feigned dramatics leaves you, a satisfied expression creeping up onto your face. “You know, you did tell me to get out- ah! ” You shriek when he grabs your arm, tugging you down. Your legs give way and you land on the mat in a heap, letting out a pained noise.

“Celebrated too early,” he murmurs, “once your attacker is down, you run .”

You grunt in annoyance, ignoring his hand when he offers it as he stands up. Sylus waits for a few moments longer, letting out a soft laugh before he hauls you up by your elbow, setting you on your feet.

He lowers his head to check if there’s any damage to your face, invading your personal space. Your head leans back as his face moves closer until you can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your skin. 

“Stop it,” you mutter, taking a step back.

You’re too clumsy for your own good however, losing your footing at the edge of the boxing ring. A squeak escapes you, arms flailing for a bit as you feel yourself beginning to slip, the ropes sliding down your back. Sylus reaches for you before you can fall, tugging you towards him. 

“Careful,” he chastises. 

Sylus’ hand smooths over your hair, brushing it away from your face. Your breath hitches when he cups your cheeks, tilting your head up.

“Stop- stop doing that,” you whisper, “stop touching me.”

“I don’t want to,” Sylus murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist, “stop fighting me.”

You send him a half-hearted glare and he smirks, drawing you closer until you’re flush against his body.

“You wanted it last night,” he continues, mouth hovering above yours, “give in.”

His stare is blistering and it’s almost as though Sylus can see through you, though you’re not sure whether you’re ready for that yet. Your head shakes stubbornly and he lets go of you, letting out a sigh.

You watch as he shrugs off his shirt, his muscles flexing. Unspoken words sit on the tip of your tongue, but he’s leaving the boxing ring. The sound of his fist colliding with the punching bag echoes through the room and you stand there awkwardly, watching as the punching bag rattles under the force of his punches.

“Should I leave?” you call out meekly once you’ve managed to get out of the boxing ring yourself.

“Stay,” Sylus replies, glancing back at you, “we aren’t done.”

His words sound foreboding enough to have you squirming in place. Sylus hits that stupid punching bag countless times, to the point where even your emails aren’t keeping you interested. 

Sweat covers his taut muscles as he approaches you, his hand running through his hair. You find your eyes fixated on his biceps, how broad his shoulders are and how big he is. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.

“Like what?” you ask breathlessly.

He reaches out, his fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

Well, he’s not exactly wrong . You stare at him for a moment longer, heart racing in your chest. All your previous reasons to not pursue something with him have begun to fail you, your stubbornness being chipped away as he runs his thumb over your lips.

“I do,” you say, voice hoarse, “I do want you to fuck me.”

Sylus grins, his eyes flashing dangerously at your confession. The sweat on his body seeps into your clothes when he pushes you up against the wall, but you don’t care, hands spreading across his firm chest, a soft whine slipping out of you.

“Why the change in mind?” he coos, his thumb brushing over your lips again.

“Do I need a reason?” you whisper, opening your mouth and sucking his thumb into your mouth.

Surprise flits across his face and he lets out a deep laugh, pushing his thumb into your mouth further. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling around his digit, before lapping at the pad of his thumb playfully. He kisses your cheek, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, hand squeezing at your waist roughly.

“Always look so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasps, pulling his thumb free from the confines of your mouth.

His body is warm against yours, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing at the fat appreciatively. You whimper, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, eager for his mouth on yours.

“Wanted to do this at the match,” Sylus murmurs, “on the big screens. Could’ve shown everyone how good my manager is for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, tilting your head as he kisses along your jaw, “that- ah- that would’ve caused a scandal.”

“The things I want to do to you would cause a bigger scandal,” he says, smiling down at you.

You’re weak for it, the lazy curl of his lips, the low drawl of his voice. You tug him down a little more and press a heated kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes bore into yours and he lets out an amused huff, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek before finally slotting his lips over yours. 

Sylus works his lips against yours, hand cupping the back of your head to draw you closer to him. He maneuvers you as he pleases, your hands sliding down to rest against his bare chest, rising up on the tips of your toes.

He hisses suddenly, pulling away and you frown, brows furrowing. Sylus touches his still healing split lip, running his tongue over it.

"Sorry," you wince.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, lowering his head, "kiss me, sweetie."

"Oh, I don't think-"

Sylus doesn't let you finish. You’re both stumbling together, bumping into a wall every so often as he kisses you all the way to his bedroom, his hands roving over you. Biting your lip, you push at his chest, smiling when he falls down onto the bed, flat on his back.

Sylus shifts, propping his arm behind his head to watch you. You’ve never felt this adventurous before, but you’re pulling your shirt off slowly, giving him a show. His eyes darken when you take off your bra, taking in your breasts and pebbled nipples. 

“Tease,” he murmurs when you pinch your nipples.

You take your shorts off next, hooking your thumbs into your panties to shimmy them off when he stops you.

“Keep them on,” Sylus says, voice laden with lust. “C’mere, baby.”

You crawl over him and Sylus drags you into another kiss, brushing your hair back. He squeezes at your ass a few times, groaning into your mouth as he feels your tits squished up against his chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, nosing against his cheek.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, hands caressing your hips.

You can feel how hard he is through his shorts, the straining imprint of it against your skin. Sylus doesn’t let you touch his cock though, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and moving your jaw to guide you into a kiss. 

A soft whimper escapes you when you feel his fingers brush your panties, pressing a little firmer until he’s rubbing your cunt through your panties. Sylus’ kisses grow sloppier, spit leaking from the sides of your mouths until he’s pushing your panties to the side and spreading your folds with his fingers.

“ Fuck ,” you mewl, pulling away from his ravenous mouth to rock your hips back into his fingers.

“So wet, sweetie,” Sylus whispers, tongue darting out to lick over your lower lip, “all for me, hm?”

You nod, hand squeezing at his shoulder. He smiles against your lips and you kiss him, fingers in his hair whilst your other hand wanders over his chest and abdomen. 

Sylus sinks a finger into you, and your suspicions are confirmed, his fingers do reach deeper. He keeps you on the edge, alternating between rubbing at your clit and sinking a finger into you from time to time.

“Sylus,” you whine, pouting, “wanna cum.”

“Knew you’d be this whiny,” Sylus says, rubbing your clit faster, spreading your slick over your cunt.

That catches you off-guard. “You- you thought about me?” you ask breathily.

“All the time,” he groans, “always so fuckin’ good to me. Had to stop myself from getting hard every time you taped my hands.”

You let out a strangled moan at his confession, pressing yourself closer and smashing your lips onto his. He grunts, cupping the back of your neck to kiss you back just as feverishly, bullying another finger into your pussy.

Sylus licks into your mouth and you suck on his tongue, tugging lightly at the strands. He doesn’t let anymore spit drip, licking it up from your chin and pushing it back into your mouth. 

“ Ah- ” you pant, eyes rolling back as he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, “taking my fingers so well.”

His thumb joins in on the onslaught, rubbing over your clit until you’re twitching and letting out ragged gasps. 

Sylus moves you onto your back suddenly, his hands pulling your panties down and pushing your thighs up so that your cunt is on display for him. He groans at the sight, drinking in the glistening folds of your pussy.

Thumbing them apart, he groans again, watching the clench of your aching hole around nothing. 

“Pretty pussy,” Sylus whispers, lowering his head to lick a stripe up your wet, slick pussy, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy ever, sweetie.”

He slips two of his fingers back into your pussy, crimson eyes finding yours as he kisses your clit gently. You smile hazily, running your fingers through his hair and rolling your hips up so he can kiss your clit again.

Sylus’ mouth latches onto your cunt before long, licking through the folds before sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the swollen bud and flicking at it. You gasp, drinking in a shuddering breath of air as he squeezes your thighs and draws back to spit on your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, pressing his head back down, “Sylus, don’t stop.”

He huffs out a breath against your pussy, a half-laugh. Sylus doesn’t deny you though, dutifully carrying out his role, eating you out roughly. You squeal when he shoves his tongue into your pussy, fucking it in and out you for a few moments before his mouth is finding your clit again, teeth grazing the sensitive bud.

You twitch, tugging at his hair harder, letting out another squeal when he squeezes your breast roughly, his other hand tweaking at your hard nipple.

“‘m gonna cum,” you say, voice wavering, “ fuck , ‘m gonna cum !”

Sylus looks up at you, and it’s just like you imagined. His red eyes stare at you intently and the eye contact coupled with his tongue stroking over your clit is enough to have you crying out, body writhing as you cum on his tongue.

He hums into your cunt, holding you still as you try to escape his still working mouth, hands smoothing over your sides. Sylus laps over your cunt as you cum, drinking up your slick greedily, pulling away with a few soft pecks to your clit and inner thighs.

“You’re insane,” you mumble, cupping his cheek to kiss him.

Hand slipping lower, you grasp him through his shorts, reveling in the little gasp he lets out. From what you can feel, he’s long and thick , his cock throbbing through the fabric.

He helps you pull his shorts off, and your breath gets stuck in your throat, eyes fixated on his cock. Sylus is thick and big , and you think your poor pussy might split if he tries to stuff it inside of you.

“Not going to fit,” you whisper, voicing your concerns.

Sylus smirks, pulling you by the arm to kiss your cheek. “I’ll make it fit.”

Red, hot arousal runs through you at his words and you lean forward to kiss him again. Sylus runs his fingers through your hair, gathering the strands in a fist as you shift lower and press a kiss to the head of his cock.

Pre-cum drips from the tip and your tongue darts out, lapping it up so as to not waste a single drop. Sylus breathes heavily and you smile up at him, letting your tongue loll out.

“Brat,” he says, grasping the base of his cock before smacking the length of his cock against your tongue a few times, “this what you want?”

You nod, holding your tongue out obediently before licking up the length of it, tracing a throbbing vein. Your tongue swirls around the head, and Sylus moans, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he watches your mouth envelop his cock. 

It’s a struggle to not let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his cock, but you do your best, sinking your head down more, lips stretched around the fatness of his cock. 

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much,” Sylus whispers, pushing your head gently.

Tears prick at your eyes, feeling his cock go deeper, air being sucked in through your nose as your throat swallows around him. 

“ Shit ,” he hisses, fingers spreading out across your scalp, “just like that, baby.”

You whine, nails digging into his thigh, taking him to the hilt as your nose buries into the white hair at the base of his cock. Sylus moans loudly and you pull off, catching your breath by opting to place little kisses along the length of his cock. 

Licking up the length of his cock again, you suck the head of it into your mouth, head bobbing shallowly as you hollow your cheeks and suck. Sylus mutters out quiet curses, his hand smoothing over your hair when his grip loosens. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your eyes drooping, your half-lidded gaze peering up into his aroused one.

His cock jerks against your lips, more pre-cum falling from his cock in fat globs. You catch them with your tongue, licking over the head of his cock and the leaking tip. His cum is addictive, the taste heady as you rub your lips across his tip, kissing at the flared head of his cock.

His thighs twitch and you giggle drunkenly, kissing his hip.

Sylus reaches down, cupping your cheek to kiss you, uncaring of the taste of his cum in your mouth. You whine, hand wrapping around his fat cock to stroke him, the sinful sounds filling the room as he wraps his hand around your throat to hold you in place while he kisses you. 

“I didn’t take my manager for a whore,” he whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“‘s your fault,” you reply, kissing him sweetly, wrist rotating as you jerk him off.

Sylus pants into your mouth, his hand tightening around your throat. You whine lowly, eyes fluttering shut when he kisses you messily, his hips bucking into your hand.

“My pretty, little whore,” Sylus says, squeezing your neck before letting go.

“Yours,” you agree, nose nudging against his affectionately.

Sylus kisses you slower this time, his hand cradling the back of your head. It’s tender enough to stop you from stroking his cock, your mind turning to mush with how gently he’s kissing you.

You can hear your lips smacking together, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his other hand drifting to circle your swollen clit again. You whine quietly, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Want me to fill you up, baby?” Sylus murmurs, his hand squeezing at your ass, “make you go brainless on my cock?”

“ Yes !” you sound your want, gripping his shoulder. “Please, please! Want- want your cock so bad, Sylus. I want you!”

He groans at the sheer need in your voice, and you roll over onto your stomach when he lets you, arching your back and pushing your ass up into the air.

“Sweetie,” Sylus rasps, spanking your ass, “ fuck- so fuckin’ good to me.”

You shove your face into a pillow, muffling your squeal when he shoves his face into your cunt, licking over your slick folds. Sylus spanks your ass again before kissing and biting at the reddened skin, leaving the imprints of his teeth on your ass. 

He’s kind enough to shove a pillow under your hips, the thoughtful action making your heart flutter wildly. The press of his cock against your pussy is enough to have you moaning again, hips rocking back to try and get the head of it to slip inside.

“Needy baby,” Sylus whispers, draping himself over your back to kiss your shoulder. “My cock-hungry slut.”

“ Oh- oh fuck ,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he wraps his arm around you neck.

“Good girl,” Sylus whispers, kissing your cheek as his arm tightens.

You coo happily, turning your head to kiss the bulge of his bicep, feeling all rational thought leave your mind as nuzzle against his warm skin. He laughs hoarsely, brushing another kiss to your shoulder, hand kneading the fat of your hip.

“Put it in,” you demand, pussy empty and aching for his cock.

“Be patient,” Sylus admonishes, his fingers stroking over your pussy again. “I need a condom.”

“N-no!” Your protest comes out entirely too quickly and Sylus pauses his movements. You grumble, looking back at him. “I- I mean, I’m on birth control and I’m clean… please, Sylus?”

Sylus raises his brows, peering down at you. “Yeah? You want my cock raw, baby? Wanna feel every inch filling you up?”

You nod, a contented sigh leaving you, your lips drifting across the corded muscle of his forearm as he plays with your cunt, pushing his fingers in one last time before he grasps his cock. You whine, teeth sinking into his bicep as Sylus pushes his cock in slowly.

The sheets of his bed are in disarray with how you’re clawing at them, feeling his thick cock stretch you out. 

“Too- too much!” you hiccup, squirming under him.

“Nearly there,” Sylus whispers, squeezing his arm around your neck tighter, “take my cock, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he bottoms out. Sylus is hard and thick , his cock throbbing inside of your aching cunt. You feel wonderfully full, mouth placing sloppy kisses to his bicep as he drops his weight onto you, pinning you against the bed.

“Fuck- hah- cunt’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans.

As though in response, your pussy clenches around him and Sylus swears again, his forehead falling against your shoulder. He lets you get adjusted to his size, his hand caressing your waist soothingly before you can feel his hips draw back, thrusting into you slowly.

“You’re so big ,” you slur, eyes fluttering shut.

Sylus grunts, his fat cock bullying into your pussy again when he rolls his hips forward, breathing heavily against your back. You feel perfectly at home, content with the feeling of his arm around his neck, and the weight of his body bearing down on you. Reaching behind you blindly, you manage to find his hand and Sylus laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand affectionately. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” Sylus whispers against your cheek, “hm? You were made for me, baby. Perfect little cunt made to take my cock.”

It’s getting harder to suck in air with how tightly his arm is constricting your throat. An uneven gasp leaves your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure mixes in with the lack of oxygen, his filthy words driving you further and further into a place where you can’t think.

His cock punches into you, his balls smacking against your clit, the sounds echoing through the room, the lewd harshness of skin slapping against skin making your cheeks flush. Sylus lets you breathe more comfortably when you dig your nails into his arm, trailing soft kisses along your cheek.

“Good girl,” he praises, his needy pants filling your ear, “my perfect girl.”

You whine, tilting your head a little more. “W-wanna kiss,” you mumble, “kiss me, Sylus.”

Sylus kisses you gently, his lips moving against yours whilst his hips hump into your ass, driving his cock deep into your clenching pussy. He moves you before long, turning you on to your back, kissing your ankles and dipping his head to land a reverent kiss to your fluttering pussy.

Your legs lock around his waist, staring up at him hazily with your lip bitten as he pushes his cock into you again. Sylus lowers his body onto yours, making sure you’re comfortable before his hips are moving again.

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Sylus hums, brushing a kiss to your brow, his hands smoothing over your hair. His thrusts grow more powerful before long, punching the air out of your lungs, your cries emanating through the room as your nails claw down his back.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, voice a low growl as he feels you clenching around him tightly.

You nod rapidly, hands curling around his shoulders as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, nipping and biting as he grinds his cock in deep . You whimper, back arching, and he grins against your skin, slowing his movements to make sure you can feel his every inch fat, throbbing cock filling you up.

“So pretty,” Sylus whispers, nosing along your cheek, “my pretty slut falling apart on my cock.”

“Sylus!” you cry out his name wantonly. 

Sylus growls, his hand slipping down to hike you thigh up a little higher before he starts pounding into you without abandon. 

“Where do you want it?” he hisses, his red eyes alight as he stares down at you. “My cum,” he clarifies when he sees the confusion in your cock-drunk gaze, “where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you whisper, body trembling with each thrust he delivers to your pussy, “fill me up, Sylus. Wanna feel it.”

“Little vixen,” Sylus snarls, kissing you roughly. You scream and squeal, the noises muffled every so often when he kisses you desperately, the coil of pleasure in your stomach curling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You moan out his name, thighs twitching violently, nails digging into his back.

“ Hah- ” he rasps, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, “pussy’s gripping me so tight fuck- couldn’t pull out even if I tried.”

Sylus lets out a growly moan, his hand squeezing at your hip as he buries his face into the crook of your neck again. You can feel his cock twitching, his hips slowing to a stuttering stop as he cums, filling you up. Hot, thick cum floods your pussy and you whine softly, the sensation sending little aftershocks through your body. He shallowly fucks his cum into you, hips moving slowly before he slumps on top of you completely.

You push at his chest when his weight becomes too much. “Get off me, you brute.”

“Shut up,” Sylus murmurs, smacking your thigh lightly.

A smile spreads across your face when he lifts his head, his lips slotting over yours in a tender kiss. You make a noise of contentment, wrapping your arms around his neck, pecking his lips a few more times. 

Sylus grunts as he moves off of you, his softening cock slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of his cum wetting your thighs and Sylus stares down at where his cum leaks out of you, the substance spilling out you thickly.

“Don’t look,” you whine, trying to snap your thighs shut.

Sylus doesn’t let you, grabbing one of your legs to kiss your ankle and then your knee. He presses soothing kisses to your inner thighs, thumbs apart your folds to watch his cum leak out of you again, landing a soft kiss to your clit every so often.

You roll your eyes, pushing at his head when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth, your pussy already oversensitive. He grins, moving towards you again and you cup his cheek, drawing him into a kiss.

-

A few hours later, you’re sitting in his lap.

You’d both showered together, exchanging lazy kisses under the hot water. Sylus had given you one of his shirts and a pair of his briefs and they were entirely too big, but you’d pulled them on anyways, his shirt smelling like him comfortingly. 

“Look,” Sylus says, pointing to the screen playing the recording of his match last night.

His large tv screen depicts your flushed face from when he’d reached for you, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Scoffing, you swat his chest and Sylus laughs, letting you hide your heated face in the crook of his neck.

“You look cute,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing and down your back. “Besides, how are you going to handle it when I kiss you in front of everyone?”

“I’m not going to handle it, because you’re not going to do that.”

“I will,” Sylus replies smoothly, slouching a little on his couch, “when I win the championship.”

“Don’t sound so sure,” you retort. You hate how straightforward he is.

Sylus’ eyes flutter shut when you run your fingers through his hair, a sigh escaping him.

“You should be more encouraging,” he says, petting your sides.

You smile faintly, tilting his head to kiss him. Sylus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer by the back of your neck until you’re making out sloppily, the sounds of fists colliding with skin playing on the tv behind you.

“Is- is that enough encouragement?” you ask breathily, pulling away with swollen lips.

Sylus stares up at you, his lips parted and hair messy and you think you might’ve taken that shower for nothing.

“Need a little more, baby,” he whispers, pulling you back.

He kisses you breathless, his hands slipping up under the shirt to feel your warm skin. You nuzzle into his cheek afterwards, looping your arms around his neck. He caresses your breasts idly, sometimes squeezing, other times simply grazing his thumbs over your areolas. 

A moment of silence passes before he’s speaking again.

“Kieran scratched your car.”

[calware]

as time goes on my interesting in shipping (for homestuck) (that's really the only fandom i'm in) has just gone down lower and lower because i used to see "shipping" as just "characters who were compatible in some way". for example i would look at karkat and feferi and be like "they didn't interact much but a lot was going on with the two of them in terms of their themes and how those themes intersect. and since romantic relationships are "more complex" or "better" or "more potent" than other relationships the natural progression is to ship them together romantically" but the stuff that would make them potentially interesting as a pairing isn't inherently romantic at all. and i feel like that goes for a lot of if not most of the characters. homestuck to me is way more centered on the idea of friendship (and family sometimes but moreso friendship) than romance and when characters have something important going on between them the interesting part is usually not inherently romantic

even the characters that start dating where their romantic attraction IS very important is based on their initial friendship..!! vrisrezi wouldn't be nearly as meaningful if they weren't friends first, same with dirkjake, etc. arasol is such a popular ship and they only dated once when they were 8 years old…. their relationship from that point on is SO important to who they are but it isn't even inherently romantic after the fact, but people see romance as the "natural progression" from there so clearly they "should" date once they get the chance to do so again. my point is i wish people would pay more attention to some of the non-romantic aspects of relationships in hs because i really think that's what takes center stage within the story most of the time (not ALL of the time of course there are definitely parts where romance is important. but you get what i'm saying)

and then of course to take that a step further and be even more of a hater i'm so tired of people taking stuff and putting it into a romantic context when it's entirely unnecessary…. i made a video with dave and karkat bickering and people tagged it as davekat for no reason. literally that post about dirk and john meeting each other that people kept tagging as dirkjohn for no reason. i'll make posts about the alpha kids being friends and doing stuff together and someone went through my entire blog tagging all of these as "alphacule" for no reason. i'll draw dirk and hal literally just looking at each other and someone will tag it as dirkhal. girl they're just looking at each other. seeing someone liveblog collide and they go "did anyone else think dirk and dave should've kissed >_<??" no i actually don't think they would do that. it's so dark in here

[kissoulie]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒

𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

— NSFW, MDNI. edging ♡

warnings: fem bodied reader, they/them pronouns used, petnames (angel, baby), titty play, somno, edging but otherwise tame

a/n: it's my birthday!!!!!!!! so naturally i am giving yall a gift ♡ this is a general fic & not abt any idol in particular!

His hands roam your body over your clothes. The rough pads of his fingers brushing against your inner thighs, your stomach, the column of your throat. You stir quietly, nose scrunched as those hands wander beneath your underwear, brushing against the pulsating heat of your sex. He presses against it, watching in amusement as you grind against his hand.

“Does my little angel want me that badly?” He knows you cannot reply, only chuckling to himself as you let out a whine. He removes his hand, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth to lick, “Oh, baby, you smell heavenly.”

You can hear the wet sounds of him sucking his fingers, pressing them—still covered in drool—against your cheek. The cold makes you flinch, betraying your little ruse.

“My little angel’s conscious, aren’t they?” He muses, touching you over your clothes once more. He pushes down your top, exposing your chest to his hungry eyes. His fingers pinch your nipple, flicking the other one, his mouth latching onto your breast. His teeth scrape, tongue pressing against your salty skin. He sucks a mark there.

Oh, my gods, you think. Your thighs are spread, a sudden hardness poking at your entrance. You feel hands tugging at your underwear, and then you hear them rip. “Sorry, baby, I can barely wait another moment to have you.”

A hand smacks your sex, pulling yet another pitiful whine from you. Your eyes finally open, gazing up blearily at the man above you. His lips split in a grin, your eyes darting down to his hands that hold the length of his thick cock between your spread thighs. Your lips part, closing quickly before parting again. Your tongue darts out to wet them.

“Pretty little mouth you have there.” He smacks his length against your stomach, drawing your eyes back to it. Your pupils are blown wide, completely fixated on him, “Maybe I should use it next time.”

He slowly slides himself back and forth, collecting your arousal before pushing the tip into your eager hole. Only the tip, before he’s pulling out. A whine comes from you, blinking up at him wantonly as he slips just the tip in again. And again, it’s taken from you. Just the tip, again. And again. And again. And again.

You sob from frustration, moving to grab him and guide him home before his large hand stops you. Your eyes are filled with tears as you utter the one word you think he wants to hear, “Please!”

Instead of finally shoving himself into your waiting heat, he pulls away entirely, pinning both wrists above your head. “Patience, baby.”

His other hand plays with your chest while your body cools down, a sticky mess between your thighs aching as you find yourself completely desperate for him.

He forces you to stay like that for a while, mouthing at your chest while your breathing goes from labored to calm. You start dozing, his warm mouth latching onto your neck and placing wet kisses. It feels so good, but does nothing to quell the ache. A soft sigh escapes your lips, and he props himself up again.

“Let’s try this again, baby.” He sinks the tip of his dick in easily, your walls parting to take him eagerly. Once the tip pops in, he’s taking it back out. “You will learn patience. The sooner you do, the quicker I fuck you.”

In, out, in, out, in.

He slowly sinks into you, the stretch delicious from being tormented for so long. You immediately try to buck your hips into his, only for his hand on your throat stopping you. “Patience. I want to see how long it takes before my pretty angel falls apart from nothing but my dick inside them.”

taesan, jay, heeseung, ricky, theo, keeho, eunseok, wonbin, san, seonghwa

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre ♡

[literaila]

Need more gojo reader smoochfest

“remember this one?”

you’re a little bit dizzy, by now. you can’t remember how long, or when all of this started—but the end result isn’t necessarily unpleasant.

you hadn’t wanted to join nanami and shoko (and gojo whoever that is) for a drink—after a long day, three too many outfit changes, and a bed that you missed like an old childhood friend.

but your complaints are only partially heard, and satoru tends to drag you along wherever he goes, like a doll.

currently, though, you don’t really mind that.

gojo is not drunk, but you definitely are.

that’s why, mind you, when satoru spins you around again on the sticky linoleum floor, in this shitty bar that is definitely too small for dancing—you stumble a little.

but satoru’s hand is right there on your waist, keeping you steady and making sure that you don’t run into anyone that could be passing by.

usually he would let you trip and fall and spill someone’s drink down their shirt—because that would be hilarious—but you’re drunk, and he’s not and…

he enjoys taking care of you, when he gets the chance.

“no,” you say, giggling, when you’re spun back to him. “but i don’t think you should do it again.”

he’s grinning down at you. “why not?”

“because i might puke.”

satoru snorts, slowing his dancing down a little bit—because you really are swaying. “cute.”

“i know. aren’t you glad you married me?”

his eyes are covered but they’re sparkling (or you’re hallucinating). “very glad,” he says, with all the swagger that his seventeen year old self had.

that is to say, absolutely none.

but you lean in anyway, drunk and giddy and sweet, and brush your nose against his.

and satoru complies, like he always does, so his breath tickles your mouth and one of his hand finds its way to your jaw.

you kiss him once, just a slight peck, and pull back. you’ve always been a tease, but you usually reserve it for at home.

not now, though, when he’s so focused on only you, and so close that he could swallow you whole.

dancing always reminds you of satoru proposing, of letting him guide you wherever he wants to go in some sick metaphor about love and torture, the cure and the curse.

and, goddamnit, you’ve always been a sappy drunk. you’re going to regret this in the morning—especially because satoru has the upper hand here.

you told him you loved him for the first time because you were drunk.

and so, “i think im in love you,” you say now, again, just to get him to smile.

“then don’t tease me,” his tone is stern, a bit whiny, but you can see his dimples now.

“it’s so fun, though.”

“everything’s fun when you’re drunk.”

“tipsy.”

“okay, baby.”

“and everything’s fun with you.”

satoru’s mouth opens, his canines glittering in the dim light of the bar, and then he scoffs, “you—“ but he never finishes the sentence because his hand moves to the back of your head and he’s kissing you again.

you settle on your tip toes to reach him, sighing as he pulls you closer.

and you’re not moving now, nonetheless dancing, but who the hell cares?

satoru bites at your bottom lip, as punishment for being in love with him, and allows you to wrap your hands around his neck, drawing circles with your fingertips.

your body is so heavy and uneven, but it’s easy to kiss him like this. you’re not self conscious about the other people because satoru will keep them away from you both, and you’re not worried about breathing because why would you need to breathe when you could be kissing him?

still, eventually he pushes you back, setting his hands on your shoulders so you don’t fall. and he grins at you again, cheeky. “i think i love you, too.”

“oh, good. or this would be awkward.”

he kisses you again, a bit softer, but it’s not even a kiss, really.

because you’re both just laughing into each other, and everything seems so funny for a moment that you just let it happen. if you could rank the moments in time, kissing satoru like this would be very close to the top.

and someone probably shouts at you to get a room—but who cares anyway?

[outofconcheol]

Tune In For Love (KSM x GN!Reader)

pairing: college radio host!Seungmin x co-host!reader

genres/au/rating: sfw, mostly fluff, the mildest of angst, idiots to lovers, pg

summary: When you and Seungmin come up with a crazy new idea for your radio show, a week of chaos and unspoken feelings unfolds. As you learn more about relationships, will the two of you tune in for love? Or decide to shut it down completely?

warnings: swearing, fake exes trope, a playlist of seungmin coded songs mentioned, stupid amounts of pining, mentions of relationship drama, they almost kiss, then they actually kiss, one mild (joking ) threat of violence, Jeongin being the best wingman ever, RAIN, Ningning, Joshua, Cheol, and Day6 all make cameos

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy Seungmin day!! honestly this could have been a whole fic on its own but i'm happy with this cute little drabble! this draws some inspiration from the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon. our boy deserves all the love, i hope you enjoy!

“Okay everyone, this has been another week at The Sound FM, the university’s #1 radio station! ____ and Seungmin signing off!”

Your voice fades out to the tune of the hit that Seungmin had selected for the week, ears perking up at the rumble of the bass and the tick tick tick of the hi-hat. Another Day6 song. Congratulations this time. 

“When will you admit that you’re Day6’s number one fan?”

“When you admit that you’re their number two,” Seungmin adjusts his glasses, a devious smirk lighting up his face. 

(You were, but you would never give Seungmin the satisfaction.)

“That segment on how to deal with the stress of midterms turned out great! What should we do next?”

You fidget with your pen, tapping it against your notepad, twirling it around in your fingers, before moving to put it behind your ear–

Seungmin’s hands shoot out, fingers clasping around yours for a brief moment, and a shiver runs through you, despite the fact that it was sunny outside with not a cloud in sight.

“I had an idea, actually, well it’s not my idea, Jeongin brought it up..”

For however composed the two of you were on air, you turned into awkward rambling messes when the mics were off. It had always been like that though. You’d been hosting the show with Seungmin for the better part of a year and you still didn’t know why you felt shy around him, or why you’d barely progressed beyond simple acquaintances.

“There’s this girl that uh, he, yeah he wants to impress, so he was asking if our next segment could maybe have something to do with dating advice.” 

“That is sooo much better than the segment on recycling tips I was planning,” you nudge him, oblivious to the way his ears turn red.

“Oooh but what if we make it spicy you know? Like approach relationships from a different angle?”

“What angle?” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck. “As far as I know, neither of us are in a relationship. I mean, right?”

“Right but no one else has to know that! What if we pretend that we’re exes, who broke up? Hindsight is always 20/20, people will eat that up!”

“I thought I was supposed to be the menace here,” Seungmin’s tone is deadpan but his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me Min,” you giggle. “So, what do you say we put your charm to good use?”

“You think I’m charming ___?” 

You miss the excitement in his tone, writing it off as enthusiasm for the whole absurdity of this plan.

“Who knows, Min! Maybe we’ll even find people! This is so exciting!”

Seungmin pauses briefly, a choked sound escaping his mouth, but you think you imagine it, watching him straighten and nod.

Laughter fills the studio as you bicker back and forth about what to include and how the next week would go. It was a risk, but you hoped it would pay off — both on the airwaves and maybe even for your stagnant love life. The possibilities were endless.

“Hello, and welcome to Tune in For Love! We are your hosts, ___ and Seungmin, and for the next week we’ll be tackling all your relationship questions and concerns!”

Your voice booms into the mic, echoing throughout the tiny studio, and you take a moment to mute yourself, heart pounding in your ears. Butterflies had begun to bubble up in your chest – you were really doing this.

“You ready for this?” Seungmin’s voice knocks you out of your daze, and you look over to see his lips twist into a lazy smile, running his fingers through his hair.

Fuck. Why did that make your stomach flip-flop?

You give him a shaky nod. It was probably just the rush of trying something new, so different from what you were used to. The simultaneous thrill and terror of dipping your toes into uncharted waters. 

Seungmin unmutes the mic, his softer, more melodious voice reverberating into the windscreen. He’d make a great singer, you think. Maybe for your next segment you could convince him to croon on air.

“We’re your resident experts on dating, whether it's still in the early stages of puppy love, the cool cruising of the honeymoon phase, or the bitter sting of love gone wrong. We have all your answers, right here, right now on The Sound FM!”

“Trust me, we’ve had experience with all of those,” you chuckle.

The story just falls off your tongue – a tumultuous end to a relationship that had never existed, one full of angst and heartbreak that even the finest writer couldn’t think of. Seungmin interrupts you spontaneously to respond to your dramatic anecdotes with dry quips of his, and you can’t believe it — you actually sound like a couple. A real couple.

“How was I supposed to know you were allergic to garlic? You let me take you to an Italian restaurant on the first date!”

“As my boyfriend, you should have asked my best friend about my allergies! That’s like standard dating protocol,” you shoot back, making sure to smile so that Seungmin knows you’re not serious.

“Noted, I’ll keep that in mind for the next relationship,” Seungmin grunts, the air becoming thick with a tension you can’t pinpoint.

Clearing your throat, your fingers hover over the buttons of the soundboard.

“How about we take some listener calls instead?”

The line crackles to life, a caller named Ningning groaning about how her girlfriend forget their anniversary and didn’t even apologize.

“It’s an honest mistake,” Seungmin mutters. 

“I don’t think so,” you counter, chewing your lip. “It’s important to be considerate of special moments like anniversaries, birthdays. It means you care. I mean Seungmin probably doesn’t even remember mine–”

“October 17th,” he interrupts you, and you go rigid. How did he even know?

I asked Jeongin, he mouths, and it only leaves you more confused. Why would he need to know that? It leaves you more embarrassed that you don’t know his exact day, only that it was sometime in September.  

Ningning rambles on, thanking you both for the added perspective and resolving to make things right with her girlfriend. You feel your heart warm at her determination, amazed at the effect that you and Seungmin had already managed to have on your listeners. 

Seungmin closes out the show, the easygoing and carefree chords of Polaroid Love ringing into the mic, and you think to yourself, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

As the sun sets, campus comes alive, buzzing with excitement. You glance out the window, watching students filter out of the library, walking towards the commons for a cup of coffee, or hugging outside their dorms. A deep pang of longing hits your gut, not sure whether its from watching them outside or the fact that you’re cramped here in the tiny studio, band posters all over the walls, and Seungmin is playing Love You For A Long Time, Maggie Rogers’ ethereal voice filling the space between you. 

“Had to ease you into our next listener call,” Seungmin grins into the mic. “This one is – ouch. It might hit home for some of us, I mean you all.”

“Hi, ___ and Seungmin? I’m Joshua, a senior. I’m calling because I have a dilemma – my best friend Seungcheol just started dating my ex, and I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand I wanna be happy for them, but on the other hand, I’m a mess. What would you do if you found out one of you was dating someone else?”

“Oh.” Seungmin breathes out, and he remains there, lips parted like he’s frozen. An awkward silence falls over the studio, and you’re sure Joshua is blinking on the other end of the line, wondering what the hell just happened.

“I’m not sure,” you shudder, thinking of the hypothetical situation. But it wasn’t so hypothetical. You and Seungmin were free to date people. There was nothing stopping you. But it still felt wrong somehow.

“I would give yourself some space, Joshua. Take time to confront your own feelings about this, and when you’re ready you can decide what to do. Let yourself heal first.”

“That’s a good answer,” Seungmin whispers, and you panic, muttering out a rushed goodbye before cutting the broadcast.

“Wow,” you sigh. “That was, I–, I guess I didn’t think of that when I suggested this.”

“Think of what?” Seungmin’s eyes glimmer with interest, and he leans in closer.

“How shit would get so deep? Like how would I actually react if that happened to me? I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Sometimes this feels almost like we’re not pretending,” Seungmin murmurs, a strained laugh escaping his throat, a mask for the change in his tone. 

You’re not sure what you want to say, but it feels like you should say something. The moment hangs heavy in between you two, and you don’t remember how Seungmin got so close, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“Seungmin, I–” 

“You had a piece of hair in your face,” he responds, straightening up to stretch his arms. “It’s late, want me to grab you an americano?”

Shaking your head, you manage to muster up a weak response, telling him to go ahead without you. He nods slightly, before throwing his jacket on and slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

An unsettling dilemma dawns on you – this was supposed to be an act, but why did it feel so real?

“You know,” Jeongin’s loud chewing echoes in the dining hall, Seungmin bristling as he watches his friend stuff five french fries into his mouth at once. “I should revoke your roommate privileges for this stunt you pulled. I thought you were grumpy before, but breaking up with ____ has taken it to a whole new level.”

Seungmin scowls, cursing under his breath at Jeongin. Yanking his headphones out of his ears, the lamenting tune of These Days by Wallows cuts off abruptly. 

Outside the rain patters, echoing his stormy emotions. Over the course of the past week, his mood had felt like he was on the world’s most nausea-inducing roller coaster ride. The highs were the times he got to spend with you in the studio, cracking jokes and watching your eyes shine as the two of you came up with the next devious plot for the show. The lows were the knot in his stomach every time someone would call in with a question that hit a little too hard.

After this week, he was glad the show would end, and maybe you guys could go back to the way things were before. That easy, comfortable dynamic that always existed between you two.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin sees the way his eyes zone out, like he can read Seungmin’s mind. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking and it’s absolute bullshit. You’re in too deep, hyung.”

“I’ll fucking punch you,” Seungmin hisses. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just spill to ___ that this isn’t some game for me? That my feelings are real? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Hyung–”

A gasp echoes from behind him, and Seungmin turns to see you behind him. Your lip trembles, and you lock eyes with him, a tear escaping the corner before you’re turning on your heels, running out of the dining hall. 

Seungmin stands there, frozen with the weight of what he’d just confessed, heart sinking to his shoes. All of a sudden, he feels a sharp jab to his arm, Jeongin’s fist colliding with it.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

The rain pelts the back of Seungmin’s neck as he runs, indifferent to the fact that he’s probably soaked to the bone, slipping and sliding along the cobblestone. He can make out your figure storming ahead furiously, like you can’t get away fast enough, and he speeds up, panic in his voice.

“___, wait! Please stop.”

His voice turns hoarse from all the yelling, and he’s about to give up, turn back in defeat (and go sock Jeongin cry into his friend’s shoulder), when you stop under a streetlight, your figure slumping. 

Seungmin is by your side in moments, not caring that he takes your hands in his, blowing on them to give you warmth.

“Y-you d-don’t even h-have an umbrella, w-what were y-you thinking?” he chatters, and he watches your lips turn up in a smile. But your eyes remain downcast.

“What about you?” you whisper, and Seungmin cocks his head, looking at you in confusion.

“I left my jacket in the dining hall with Jeongin—”

“No Seungmin, I mean what about you?” your voice croaks desperately. 

Seungmin takes a deep breath. There was no use in pretending anymore.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do,” he chokes out.

You take his hands in yours and Seungmin feels dizzy. The cold rain no longer bothers him, warmth filling his veins from the inside out.

“You think?” you sniffle.

“I know. I know I’ve been in love with you, since the day you walked into the studio and pitched your ideas for five-star dorm meals.”

“I really like your hands,” you blurt out, and Seungmin’s eyes widen in shock. That was not the response you’d been expecting.

“They’re warm when mine are always cold, I like the way they look when they’re holding a pencil, or when you bring me a cup of coffee. I like your voice too – the way you sing along to Day6 when you think no one is listening, or your annoying little laugh–”

“It is not annoying–”

You press a finger to his lips, and Seungmin thinks he might just evaporate. 

“Not now, Min. I’m trying to say something here. What I’m trying to say is that if there’s anything this whole week has taught me, it’s how much I like you. How much I want to have those crappy problems that everyone complains about with you, how much I want to celebrate birthdays with you, and anniversaries with you, and how I think I might collapse inside if I ever saw you with someone else—”

It’s Seungmin’s turn to interrupt you now,  cold lips colliding with yours, the initial shock replaced with heat. Your hands burrow into his hair and he draws you closer, hands weaving around your waist. The startled, frantic sounds of your breathing did nothing to help the pounding of his heart, and he wonders if you can hear it too. 

In this moment, Seungmin never wants to let go, holding you steady against him even when you part, your breath fanning in the cold air. 

“I just, I, needed to be honest. No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” he smiles against your lips, nudging his nose against yours.

The wet slap of shoes against the pavement interrupts you both, turning to see the Jeongin behind you, Seungmin’s jacket in his arms. He takes in the sight of you two wrapped around each other, a smug grin lighting up his entire face.

“Hell yeah! It worked!”

“___ and Seungmin signing off, this is Tune in For Love on The Sound FM, and we’ve loved having you this week!”

The air in the studio buzzes with a different kind of excitement – the dreamy notes of Hypnotized by The Weston Estate filling up the room.

“Before we go, we have something to share with you–” your voice wobbles, and Seungmin reaches out immediately, squeezing your hand.

“Please send your email petitions in so our show doesn’t get canceled, but we’ve been faking it this whole time. We’re not actually exes.”

You can almost hear the collective gasp across campus, the soundboard going crazy as it lights up with calls.

“We are, as of yesterday, the happiest, and newest–, couple on campus,” Seungmin beams, his pride echoing through the mic and your heart lurches at how right it feels to be his.

You hit the answer button, the lines flooding with congratulations and well-wishes to the news.

“Congrats!” Ningning’s voice echoes. “I always thought you were the cutest together.”

“You make me want to find someone of my own now,” Joshua says in the background, and the studio fills with you and Seungmin’s laughter.

When the last call goes through, Jeongin gives you both a thumbs up, shutting off the soundboard. 

You turn to Seungmin, heart racing. 

“I can’t believe we actually did this,” he says,  half-laughing.

“Me neither,” you reply, a soft smile on his lips. “But I’m really glad we did. It feels… right, you know?”

“Thanks for being part of this with us,” he echoes through the airwaves, his voice sincere. “We’re excited to see what’s next—together. And while the show may be over, we hope you’ll still tune in for love every single week — no matter the topic.”

“Next – how to cook a five star meal worthy of any restaurant using just your dorm microwave…”

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[multi-fandoms-posts]

The Heat of the Moment

X Men Masterlist

Paddy x reader SMUT

Y/N sits with Paddy in an old country house, hidden deep in the woods. It’s autumn; the leaves are orange and red, and the wind lashes against the windows. The movie they’re watching plays softly in the background while the two of them sit on the sofa. The television flickers, but they pay it little attention.

Paddy sits close beside her, his arm casually draped over her shoulders. The atmosphere in the room is tense, almost palpable, but Y/N feels comfortable in his presence. She knows that Paddy can be rough, that he sometimes struggles to control himself. But she loves him, and he loves her, and that’s all that matters.

“Why do you always do this?” she suddenly asks, looking directly into his eyes. Paddy gives a crooked grin.

“What do you mean?” His voice is deep, almost a growl, as he pulls her closer to him.

“You’re... so rough. You know I’d do anything for you. But sometimes...” She breaks off, unsure if she should voice her thoughts.

“Sometimes what?” His eyes flash, and his hand slowly glides down her arm. He grips her tightly, almost painfully, but Y/N doesn’t flinch. She has grown accustomed to this part of him.

“Nothing.” Y/N shakes her head. She knows that Paddy loves her in his own way. He just shows it differently, more intensely. Sometimes too intensely.

Paddy grins, his lips near her ear. “You like it when I’m like this. Admit it.”

Y/N doesn’t respond, but her heart races. She knows he’s right. She loves his passion, even when it hurts. It’s like a game between them—one they both know all too well.

Suddenly, Paddy turns her face to him and presses his lips against hers. The kiss is demanding, rough. He holds her head firmly, his fingers digging into her hair. Without warning, he bites into her neck, hard enough that she lets out a sharp gasp. The pain mingles with a strange pleasure.

“Paddy!” she gasps, but she doesn’t push him away. She feels him grasping her skin with his teeth, the blood rushing in her ears. When he finally pulls back, he leaves a deep red hickey that slowly begins to turn blue.

“Do you like that?” he asks with a dark smile.

Y/N looks at him, her eyes filled with heat and desire. She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she grips his hair tightly, pulls his head back, and exposes his neck. Without hesitation, she bites down harder than he had on her.

Paddy growls low in his throat, surprised by her reaction, but he allows it. Y/N feels his body tremble under her touch. She holds him firmly, feeling his pulse under her tongue as she sinks her teeth into his skin. His growl grows louder, mingling with a deep moan that fills him completely.

“Damn it, Y/N...” he murmurs, his hand gripping her hip, fingers pressing deeply into her flesh. The pain and pleasure dance between them, a mixture of violence and passion.

When Y/N finally lets go, she sees the imprint of her teeth on his skin. His neck is flushed, and she knows it will look worse tomorrow. But she regrets nothing. It’s her way of showing him that she is his equal. That she understands him in her own way.

“You’re crazy,” Paddy says, his breath heavy. But in his eyes, something else glimmers—something that draws Y/N in even more.

“You started it,” she replies calmly, a faint smile on her lips.

Paddy suddenly pulls her back to him, his lips finding hers again, this time softer. For a moment, he’s not rough, not demanding, but tender. But Y/N knows that this tenderness won’t last long. That’s never been his way.

“I can’t help it,” he whispers as his fingers gently trace over her neck, right where he had bitten her before. “You drive me insane.”

“And you drive me insane,” she responds, her voice barely more than a whisper.

There are no more words. A deep understanding lies between them, one that transcends mere words. They need no explanations, no apologies. They take each other as they are—raw, passionate, and sometimes painful.

She stands up, and Paddy looks at Y/N, his eyes burning with desire. Without warning, he stands up too, grabbing her by the waist and pushing her with a quick, controlled thrust against the wall of the old country house. The wooden floorboards creak behind her, and the cool surface of the wall presses firmly against her back.

Y/N gasps softly, surprised by the sudden movement but also by the familiar feeling that rises within her. Her breath quickens as Paddy presses close to her, his body firm against hers. She feels his arousal pressing unmistakably against her thigh. The sensation sends waves of heat through her body, and her hands instinctively find his back, her fingers digging into his shirt.

“Paddy...” she whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and excitement. She looks into his eyes, and what she sees there makes her forget everything else around her. There’s no restraint in his gaze, only pure desire and the wild, bubbling passion that has gripped them both in this moment.

“You know you drive me crazy,” he murmurs roughly, pressing even closer to her, his face mere millimeters from hers. His breath brushes her lips, hot and demanding. “You feel that, don’t you?”

Y/N nods, unable to say anything more. Her hands glide into his neck, pulling him down to her until their lips meet again. The kiss is demanding, hungry, and they lose themselves in the heat of the moment. Paddy’s hands roam over her body, firm and possessive, as if he wants to feel every part of her, to claim every inch.

He breaks the kiss just to look at her again. His gaze travels from her eyes to her lips, then to her neck, where the dark hickey is still visible. He gently strokes his fingers over it, as if admiring his handiwork, before diving back into her, this time with more urgency.

Y/N feels his hands sliding to her waist, lifting her, pressing her against the wall more firmly, more dominantly. Her legs instinctively wrap around his hips, and the feeling of his arousal pressing against her makes her breathe deeply. Her whole body vibrates with tension and desire.

“I... feel it,” Y/N finally whispers, her lips against his ear. “Everything.”

Paddy growls softly, his grip on her hips tightening as he pulls her even closer. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice deep and rough with desire. “Because this... this belongs to us.”

His mouth finds her neck again, this time gentler yet still possessive, as he lightly sinks his teeth into her skin, just enough to draw another moan from her. Y/N feels her world spinning around him, around this raw desire that connects them both.

He presses her harder against the wall, and she can’t help but fully enjoy his closeness, his dominance, and the burning fire in his touches.

Paddy holds Y/N firmly against the wall, her legs still wrapped around his hips. His breath is ragged, his eyes dark with longing. Without a word, his hand suddenly glides down her belly, skillfully undoing the button of her jeans and pulling the zipper down with a swift, decisive motion.

Y/N gasps softly as she feels her pants slowly sliding over her hips. Paddy pulls them down with a mix of urgency and impatience until they fall to the floor, her bare skin feeling cool in the otherwise hot air around them.

He says nothing, but his movements speak volumes. His hands move to his own pants, undoing his belt and button. With a firm tug, he pulls them down, his arousal unmistakably evident.

Y/N feels her heart racing, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The anticipation and desire building within her almost drive her to madness. Her hands grasp his shoulders, her fingers digging deep into his skin, as if she knows what comes next.

Paddy lifts her gaze to meet his, his eyes locked onto hers. Without warning, without another word, he pushes into her, hard and deep. A sharp moan escapes Y/N's lips as her body surrenders to him. The sudden pressure, the raw intensity of his thrust, makes her senses explode.

“Paddy…” she moans, unable to say anything else. Her head leans against the cold wall, her body entwined with his as she tries to stay in this moment, processing the electrifying pain and pleasure.

Paddy growls softly as he presses her harder against the wall, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place while he continues to thrust into her. Each of his thrusts is deep and hungry, as if he can’t get enough of her. His body is hot, his breath heavy, and his movements demanding.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs roughly, his mouth near her ear as he drives deeper into her. “So damn good.”

Y/N can’t respond; her thoughts have blurred into a single chaos of lust and longing. All she feels is Paddy—every movement of his, the intensity of his body, the rhythm he sets. She clings to him, her nails digging into his back as her body instinctively adapts to him.

The heat between them rises, the room seems to dissolve around them, and all that remains is the raw intensity of this moment.

Y/N clings tighter to Paddy, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs still firmly around his hips. Each thrust, each deep push from him brings her closer to the edge, and she feels the heat building in her belly, growing more intense until she can barely stand it.

“Paddy…” she gasps between deep breaths. Her voice trembles, a barely suppressed moan breaking free as she digs her fingers into his shoulders. “I... I’m almost there...”

Her words seem to trigger something within him. His hands grip her even tighter, his movements becoming harder, faster, as if he wants to push her over the edge, past the point where she can still hold on. The pressure between them mounts; each of his thrusts makes her body quiver.

“Come for me,” Paddy murmurs hoarsely, his breath hot against her ear. “Let it out.”

Y/N’s head falls against the wall behind her, and she can hardly delay the moment any longer. Her entire body vibrates with tension; the waves of her impending climax are inevitable. She feels herself losing control, and just as Paddy thrusts into her even harder and deeper, it overwhelms her.

With a sharp moan, her body arches against his, her back pressing against the wall as she instinctively bites into his neck, deep and firm, as pleasure consumes her completely. The bite is hard, almost possessive, and she feels Paddy growl beneath her, his body trembling under her grip.

That’s enough to send him over the edge as well. With a deep, hoarse groan, he comes inside her, his body tensing against hers, surrendering to the moment just as she does. His breath is ragged and heavy, his movements slowing, but the intensity in his gaze remains.

Their bodies press tighter against each other, their hearts beating in the same erratic rhythm, and the heat of the moment envelops them both until there is only them—alone, lost in the ecstasy they have created together.

Slowly, Y/N relaxes her grip on Paddy’s neck, and her lips leave a mark on his skin, right where she had bitten him. She gasps softly, her forehead resting against his as they both try to catch their breath.

“You're incredible,” Paddy finally whispers, his voice rough and filled with satisfaction as he pulls her body close to him once more.

[themultifanshipper]

As soon as you saw the time go to 0 during a yellow flag and Lando in p16, peeling into the pits after an aborted lap, you knew exactly what was about to happen.

Yes I forgot to post this and it's too weeks late SUE ME

Warnings: Lando being an annoying whiny self deprecating little bitch, handjob, edging, crying

Part 4 of 'One of the Boys'

You were already in his driver’s room when he came in, tears in his eyes and in need of some company.

None of it was his fault obviously, but he still felt the need to berate himself.

“It's all my fault”

“I should have gone out earlier”

“I should have skipped the out lap”

“I should have b-“

You listened to him beat himself up for over 20 fucking minutes before you decided to stop him.

“None of it is your fault La-“

But he just kept talking over you and his voice was getting wobblier with each sentence.

“Lando”

He just kept going, and going, completely ignoring you, and you actually got angry.

So you slapped him across the face.

That got his attention.

It wasn't hard enough to really hurt but he would definitely feel the sting, and he brought his hand up to feel his cheek as his jaw dropped.

His breathing was becoming shallow and his pupils were rapidly taking over the gray of his irises.

A tear rolled down his cheek and he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Again”

So you did. Slightly harder this time, on the other cheek.

He gulped in a breath, a few more tears escaping.

Your hands came up to cup his face and he whimpered pitifully.

“Please”

It broke your heart to see him like this, but he was so beautiful, face all flushed and wet.

“I'm here for you Lan, what do you need?”

He closed his eyes and nuzzled into your palm, letting out the first calm breath since he'd got out of his car.

“I don't know... I just want to forget today ever happened.”

You leaned over and gently pressed your lips to his forehead.

“I've got you, just focus on me, okay?”

He looked at you and nodded.

You took the liberty of climbing onto his lap, unzipping his suit and sliding a hand inside his underwear to find that he was already hard.

“Damn... you really like being roughed up don't you?”

You tightened your grip on him and he whimpered, biting his lip raw and leaning his head back on the sofa.

“please” he groaned.

You chuckled and planted a kiss under his jaw bone. “Please what?”

You sped up your movements, brushing your thumb over his tip on every upstroke and he gasped.

His thighs clenched and unclenched and he soon started trembling uncontrollably.

“Please don't stop. I'm so close”

You pulled the neckline of his fireproofs down to nibble on the skin at the base of his neck and his hips bucked up involuntarily.

“Now then Lando, tell me about your qualifying”

He frowned.

“What do you mean? I fucked up and- Ahh!”

Your grip was tight around the base of his cock and he yelped, head snapping up to look at you with wide eyes.

“No! What-“

“You answered wrong, Lando”

Once he had stopped pulsing in your hand you resumed your movements, immediately going fast and hard, trying to draw him to the edge as quickly as possible.  

“I- I- Oh my god! I don't know what you want me to say!”

“Yes you do Lando, tell me what happened and I'll let you come” you purred, distracting him with kisses along his jawline.

“I didn't-  fuck, I didn't have time to finish the lap...” he started, voice shaking with need. “b- before the yellow flag”

“Mmh, and who's fault was that, Lando?”

He let out little puffs of breath every time you flicked your wrist, letting you know he was close to the edge again, but you knew he was still beating himself up, so you stopped again and squeezed the base of his cock just as he was about to come.

He wailed and almost managed to dislodge you with how he was squirming in pain, but you refused to let him come until he admitted none of it was his fault.

A few tears streamed down his cheeks and he sobbed openly, in the safe space between you two.

He calmed down a bit and you resumed, paying special attention to his sensitive head, and he bucked up into your hold once again.

“Answer me Lando, who's fault was it that you got sent out too late? Who's fault was the yellow flag? Was it your fault?”

He was clenching his entire body in an effort to keep himself together enough to answer.

“No! It wasn't my fault! There's nothing- ah! Nothing I could have done!”

You smiled at him, cupping his face again with your unoccupied hand.

“Good boy, Lando. You're right” you wiped the stray tears away and kissed him sweetly.

 “there's nothing you could have done, you just got caught out by a yellow flag. Now you can come”

His back arched and he let out a painful wail as it all came crashing down, the tension and stress melting away.

He came so much it stained his fireproofs all the way up to the neckline, and dripped down your hand to irretrievably dampen his suit so that there was a big dark patch.

You slowed the movement of your hand and eventually let go of him, wiping your cum streaked hand on his suit.

You kissed him and his hands came to rest on your hips, squeezing affectionately.

“Thank you” he said as you separated, closing his eyes and basking in the afterglow.

“Anytime” you giggled, climbing off him and looking for your bag, checking your phone.

“Now go celebrate with your team, Oscar got p2 and he'll be devastated if you’re not there” you scolded, voice laced with humour as he looked at you through his lashes and groaned.

“I don't think I can walk after that, and I'm not going to be able to drive tomorrow!” he pouted. “Not that it would make a difference if I did...”

“I'll tell you what” you said, hanging back in the open doorway “If you end up higher than p5 tomorrow, you can have me after the race”

Lando laughed “Deal”

That was never going to happen, but a man could dream, right?

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Storm

Ivy and Claudine Feelings fic. Might add Ivy & Diego interaction later but I’m posting it now.

The rain drums against the roof and windows incessantly.

Sometimes, rain drops fall into the room through a crack of a window Ivy didn’t bother to close. She’s never did close that window, she isn’t sure it could even be closed anymore, but she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t mind the rain or the wind, she barely even shivers anymore as another gust of wind breezes through the room and rattles the ancient windows and doors.

The house is complaining about the storm, as it always does. When she was little, Ivy actually imagined it gossiping about the weather, in posh English accent. So horrible today, isn’t it?

She doesn’t do that anymore. Now, she sits curled up with a book that’d make an Auradonian princess choke on her own spit, and clinks ice in her glass.

…Yes,it is slightly too cold for ice, but Ivy wants her whiskey on rocks, you know?

Besides, she likes how the glass burns at her fingertips, ever so contrasting to the alcohol itself.

She flips the page and sighs as she realises she hasn’t the faintest idea what she just read. Really, this thing can get so boring in some passages – she’ll need to get a new one from Dulcia.

She sighs again and stares at the blank wall instead, contemplating her life choices or whatever.

A movement catches her eye. Tight, jerky movement where nothing should be moving but the wind, where her girlfriend is supposed to be asleep.

She’s not asleep, she’s sitting up with her knees brought up to her chest, having drawn up her hands to her ears just now, and Ivy really should have noticed sooner.

She stares at the girl, sucking at her cheek as she tries to find words of comfort that she can actually say – not that she cares for the Isle societal norms all that much, but she <i>is</i> a Villain.

Claudine catches her staring.

„Ivy–“ she breathes out, lowering her hands to her lap – back to her crucifix.

„Ivy,“ she says again before abruptly clambering from the bed.

„What’s it, sweetheart?“ Ivy asks and lowers her feet to the floor just as the girl comes to a halt before her and sits on her heels in front of the loveseat. From here close, Ivy can see the tears shining in her eyes – if she had a heart, it’d break a little.

„He is mad at me,“ Claudine whispers, confesses, as she takes Ivy’s hand into hers, holding on desperately. Ivy lets her.

„Who is mad at you, love?“

„He,“ Claudine says with as much emphasis as she can, „He sends storms to punish sinners and purge the earth of those unworthy of His love. He is mad at me, Ivy.“

Now, Ivy is starting to understand – well, more than anything, she’s understanding how much she’d love to kill dear old Judge Frollo, if he wasn’t already dead.

She’d make him suffer, for what he did to her.

But for the moment, she rises and takes Claudine with her, drawing her into a hug. Ivy can feel her trembling still, as she mutters: „Are you afraid of the storm, sweet thing?“

Claudine just nods mutely into her shoulder.

Ivy hums, just to fill the silence, and strokes her hair. Then she pulls away – just for a moment, just to grab her book again, for she never did put down her glass – and says: „Can you carry this for me? We’re gonna go somewhere where we can’t hear the storm.“

She waits for an answer, as patiently as she can, and Claudine takes the book, which is as good as it’s gonna get. Ivy kisses her cheek and leaves a mark, which she doesn’t care about, and offers her her arm as she leads the way through the labyrinth that is Hell Hall.

She navigates the dark halls she grew up in with ease, though, until they walk to a salon near the heart of the Vila. Much too close to her Auntie, in normal circumstances, but the storm doesn’t reach here.

Ivy stands down her glass now, and flickers her lighter few times before she lights the oil lamp by the sofa and the warm light shines around the room. She sinks into the pillows and waves Claudine over,  pulls her down, as she girl seems unwilling to do anything on her own accord.

„No one is mad at you, I promise,“ says Ivy, because it seems like the right thing to say.

She doesn’t know if she’s lying.

„I promise,“ she repeats anyway.

„But how can you know?“ whispers Claudine so quietly that Ivy can hear because she’s oh-so-close.

„I’m not mad at you,“ she says, as if that explained everything, which, really, it should.

„No one’s mad at you, you’re far too precious for that.“

She pulls away Claudine’s head a bit, just enough to kiss by the corner of her eye.

She can taste the salt of her tears.

„You think?“ Claudine breathes out. She’s not trembling anymore, not so tense, no. She’s almost relaxed in Ivy’s arms.

„Yeah.“

She lets her lie down, curled up next to her, and hopefully fall asleep now.

[myartsing]

Post coronation kissies bcs I’m a simple person ♥️

[bubba-draws]

damn these new followers be causing a ruckus

Some cotl doodles :> was experimenting with a couple of brushes and just decided to goof around, the second one is inspired by this song

[alphaclxwn]

ough she’s so full of joy and whimsy and bible stories made to point out how betrayal is bad, i love her

[sualne]

orange and blue guys

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"

[lunarharp]

more phoenix wright situations

[blitheringbongus]

I NEED TOSEE THE CUBSCAR KISSES AWAGH

HERE YOU GO

I have lineart for this but the sketch makes my brain way more happy so!! Sketchy sketch!!

[loud-whistling-yes]

so as literally everyone following me in the past 24 hours knows, im fucking obsessed with her. take her shes everything i have