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prael · 9 months

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coup de théâtre - IVE Jang Wonyoung (Ft. An Yujin, Naoi Rei, Kim Gaeul)

Part 2 of folie à deux.

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader smut.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 11,849

coup de théâtre - a sudden and surprising event

"You're just not getting it." Wonyoung stresses as her hands settle on Rei's hips. "If we get too close here, it's going to ruin everything."

"So you don't want me right here?" Rei's shoulders slouch and she pouts in confusion.

"Watch. Yujin, you know what you’re doing." Wonyoung signals the other girl over. "Gaeul, ready?"

She gives a confident nod and readies her posture.

"Alright, music, cue.” That is your signal. See, that's the only reason you're here. Wonyoung insisted you help them out during their dance practice. With the speaker at your feet, you slouch against the mirrored back wall. You can see yourself, shorts and tee loosely hung from your body, in the mirror across the room. Between you and it, the four girls are ready to spring to life. They swear they'll make it big, maybe they will, but they're not there yet.

You hit play on your phone. “Five, six, seven, eight,” and three of the girls dance. Wonyoung watches as the girls inevitably get in each other's way. Rei goes to cross between Gaeul and Yujin and the gap is so small that she almost takes a fist to the face. The mistake brings them to a halt.

"See? We need better spacing." Wonyoung demands the point again and stands between the three, explaining how things will have to line up. The four of them flail arms, pointing at their feet, imitating footwork and readjusting as needed.

You'd argue she isn't even the best dancer among them, not that there's much disparity between them. But she's the one who insists they have to be critical or they will never get better. The girls take this school dance club more seriously than anything else in this place. They start from the top again with another countdown and another play from you. It doesn't take long for everyone to get back into the motion. Gaeul turns, Yujin shifts, and Rei steps. This time it all goes buttery smooth.

Hips sway and asses shake. Bodies glimmer with sweat under the studio lights. All their slender figures move with equal parts energy and sensuality. The original choreographer wouldn’t say it, but to say it's seductive wouldn't be wholly incorrect. From the powerful steps to the flowing graceful movements, the whole thing is a pleasure to watch. Every little flourish is alluring and equally mesmerising.

This continues, round and round, over and over and over. Slowly, they iron the kinks. Work out the errors. Find the minor adjustments. All until they're dancing with all the confidence they need to own the stage when the time comes.

The sweat on their bodies soaks in to the tops of their practice outfits. Each movement has their loose strands of hair cling to their faces, necks, shoulders. They're drenched, exhausted, but they keep pushing through the final attempt. The music fades out; they finish. Rei throws herself on the floor. Laying, legs extended and arms resting beside her, she stares at the ceiling for a while with a soft groan.

The other three head toward you (more accurately; their drinks). You lift yourself up onto the bench, taking a seat at the end and handing the bottles to the girls. Wonyoung sits right beside you and leans back against the wall mirror.

“Good job. That looked great."

"Yeah." Wonyoung barely manages that as her heavy, laboured breath requires most of her focus. She grasps her bottle with trembling fingers.

"That was good," Gaeul confirms as she takes a seat next to Wonyoung.

After handing a bottle to Rei, Yujin stands right in front of you. Drink in one hand and the other resting on her hip, at the waistband of her skin-tight leggings. "What about me? Did I look good? I think I nailed it." Yujin breathes as the words escape her lips. Her heavy lashes lower and gaze at you. A bright smile spread across her pink-tinged, sweat-slicked cheeks.

You reply honestly. "Yeah, you did. Perfect."

Rei lets out a couple of forced coughs to mockingly comment between them; get a room.

Wonyoung snickers at Rei's joke. Her breathing steady and her gaze on Yujin. "Looks like she wants to, don't you, Yujin?"

"You think?" Rei chimes in again.

“I think so," Wonyoung chuckles and swipes a strand of her hair behind her ear. "The changing room is free, but I can't promise I won't walk in."

It's like she insists on making it as awkward as possible. But there's no way she can know about you and Yujin. No. That's impossible. This must just be a coincidence—a light-hearted tease.

"So when's next practice?" Gaeul interrupts, saving you both your blushes. "I can't do any weekend practices, I'm going on a trip."

"Oh right, the fiancé," Wonyoung begins, and you brace yourself, because you know the kinds of things she usually says here. "why him? Isn't he kind of… beneath you?"

Wonyoung is every bit as blunt and harsh as usual. There's no ambiguity there—no double-meaning or clever innuendo. It's a comment born out of her own distorted view that everyone is beneath her.

Yujin turns round, glaring with her brows raised and silently mouths the words: 'are you serious?'

"I like him," Gaeul answers simply. You'd never met her fiancé but if there's one thing you'd learned about Gaeul in your limited interactions is that she didn't act on whims. If she said yes, it's because she really likes him.

"It's his huge cock, right?" Wonyoung is as brash as ever and Yujin almost chokes on her sip of water. Rei’s head snaps up, and she's staring from her laying position. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s caught in your throat.

"Maybe," Gaeul cuts through the awkwardness. Everyone pauses. The attention in the room rests on Gaeul, each of them not so subtlely urging her to keep talking. Yujin takes a seat on the ground at your feet, cross-legged, and ready for a story.

Gaeul has one hand scratching at her arm and the other gripping at the bottle in her lap. She hesitates a moment. Maybe she’s busy wondering if she should (or if she dare) say any more. And then she erupts in to a story that pulls no punches. "This one time, me and him got into it pretty heavy and I was deep-throating his—sorry, too graphic?"

There's a collective shake of heads. Even Rei has sat up to listen intently now. Gaeul gives the faintest smile in recognition and she continues.

"So there we were. I'm lying down and deep-throating his cock. I've got him all the way in my throat, and there was still more to go. I just couldn't. As much as I wanted his whole cock in me, it just wouldn't go." Gaeul gives a pout, lamenting her failure. "I tried so hard, I felt like I couldn't do it. Couldn't breathe. I didn't know how, not with that length buried in me. I felt so small, and... I loved it."

Her face is turning a deep shade of vermilion as she relives the memory. Still, her hand squeezes tight around her water bottle and all the others wait for Gaeul to continue. Yujin is leaning forward, hands on her knees, eyes wide and listening closely. Wonyoung looks rather relaxed on her stretch of wall with her head laid against the cool surface. The sweat from her cheeks and brow slowly trickling down. But she's rapt, fixated, awaiting the story.

"The tip hit the back of my throat. I just didn't want it to stop."

As she describes it, her candid description, with no holds barred, the vision her story creates does something to you. Your mind races at the thought that it might have been any woman in Gaeul's position. Yujin. Wonyoung.

Wonyoung.

Her hand is halfway up your thigh, clearly excited at the image Gaeul is painting. You appreciate the gesture, don't misunderstand that, but there's enough sensory overload without having the weight of her fingers pressing into the firm muscle of your thigh. It isn't doing you any favours as the tiny beads of perspiration at Wonyoung's temple burn on her skin and her flush skin glows. There’s no blaming you for the fantasies that form in your mind. Each as naughty as the last.

Yujin.

She's staring out of the corner of her eye, eyes locked with you and a blank expression on her face. And you just wonder, what it would be like to have her mouth wrapped around your cock. It's difficult, staring down the girl you like while the girl you like (and regularly fucking) has a hand on your leg.

And you just want them both. Right here, right now.

Gaeul continues, "and he's just grabbing at me, palm on my face, gripping my head and he's just fucking my face." You can barely hear her over the beating of your own heart in your eardrum—drumming loudly.

"I must've been choking, and he thought that was hot. He couldn’t stop and I didn’t want him to. He had me pinned, pressing his fingertips into my skin."

Speaking of fingertips, Wonyoung's trace your crotch, blindly roaming and teasing.

"Fuck." Wonyoung's only word—just a whisper from her lips.

Gaeul continues, "I was in heaven." Her eyes are sparkling. They’re glazed over and far-away, lost in the vivid memory.

"Wow," Rei stares in awe.

Gaeul shuffles around in her seat. First running her hand over her legs, pressed together at the knees, before moving a hand over her waist and pulling at the clingy material of her black yoga pants, that stretch tight across her hips. "So... Um... Yeah I guess you could say I like his huge cock."

Yujin speaks now and her voice cuts straight to your core. "He must love that you're, like, a total submissive slut in bed."

"Sometimes," Gaeul is almost back in the room, no longer enraptured by the memories of being used.

"You must blow him any chance you get," Rei pushes.

"Of course." Gaeul nods. She seems pleased as punch, her mouth spreading into a wide grin.

The words spill from your lips, "what about in public places?" And well, fuck, you meant for it to sound a lot more coy.

"A time or two..." she pauses, puckering her lips as her brows lift together, her head tilts slightly, and her gaze lifts upwards as she wracks her mind. "Well, a few times, if that’s interesting to you."

"Very.” Fuck. “I mean. I'm just curious." Stop talking, idiot.

"Well, the details are a secret for now," she grins toward Wonyoung and Yujin, who share a smile and a look.

"How come I haven't heard about this?" Rei chimes in. "You've got a new story every other week, but not even a whisper of this?"

"Because this is naughty and embarrassing." Gaeul covers her face. She's clearly a confused mixture of turned-on and shy right now. She might be a bit hesitant to share her wilder adventures, but the others aren't at all apprehensive about listening to the dirty details.

"One more," Wonyoung requests. She sits at the edge of her seat with a hand planted on your crotch and the other resting on her knee.

"Another?" Gaeul inquires. "I think it's someone else's turn now."

"Gaeul is right. Yujin, ever done anything naughty in public?" Wonyoung asks, drawing in and passing on the attention.

"Not in public, but..." Yujin stares at you for a moment too long. Clearly, the whole not telling anyone thing doesn’t apply to the girls in this room. It’s all far too obvious. "But I did have some fun recently." She grins like the cat that caught the canary.

"How recently?" Wonyoung cocks her head and a few loose locks fall over her shoulder. "What kind of fun? Who with?"

"Just... some guy. He was a total sub, did everything I told him to." She drags her teeth across the plump swell of her bottom lip.

Some guy? Sometimes it feels like all you will ever be.

"Did what you told him?" Gaeul sounds intrigued. "What did you ask him to do?"

"Don't know," Yujin answers quickly. Too quickly. "Nothing much. Just something special for me." Her teeth are back against her lower lip, chewing on it before continuing. "Thing is, he’s a cute guy, and he was a real natural.”

"Did you cum?" Rei jumps in again, straight to the point.

"More than once." Yujin's face lit up. “I didn't let him fuck me, though. You should have seen the desperate look on his face.”

“Did you even let him cum? Poor guy.” Gaeul sympathises unnecessarily, and unknowingly, with you.

“I did, made him blow a load right on me.”

“Oh fuck, I love that.” Rei chimes in with an approving nod. “On my body makes me feel so hot.”

“I'm a face girl myself.” Gaeul admits before bursting out into embarrassed laughter.

Wonyoung stays noticeably quiet on this one. Of course, you know why. ‘Too messy’, she always told you.

“Yeah, we know all about that,” laughs Rei at Gaeul.

God only knows how you ended up in this situation. Sitting between four women, all gorgeous in their own way, each getting equally aroused by the topic of conversation. The atmosphere in the room, so humid and hot already, has seemed to intensify tenfold in the moments since Gaeul began her sordid tale. Now, with each question and subsequent answer, it was building steadily, the sexual tension increasing in magnitude with each word. The heat of their sweat-soaked bodies permeates the air with the burn of the midday sun.

"You didn’t even get fucked? You're no fun, Yujin. I need detail." Wonyoung is feeding off the stories and expelling the energy through her touch into your cock. You pull your knees up now, to try to hide what Wonyoung is doing to you. "Rei. Save us. Please give us something juicy."

"I uh, well..." The nerves in her face are clear. Rei is more than happy to press details from others, but now she's in the spotlight. "There was this guy I met online. I don't even know his name. He just went by an emoji."

"An emoji?" the other three girls say in unison.

"Yeah. An orange. Anyway, not important. So, we met up." Her hands run along her bare thighs, feeling the sticky heat of her palms and the cool beads of sweat along her smooth legs. "I kinda asked him to... I mean, it wasn't explicitly—" She begins her excuses as though her asking this anonymous man to come meet her was shameful. Her fumbling words get a giggle out of Yujin.

"Calm down, Rei, no-one is judging." Gaeul gives her friend an easy smile.

"This was just to hook up and no strings. He had a hotel room." Rei rubs at her neck. Blush overcomes her face.

"Love that vibe." Gaeul holds up a lazy thumb of approval. "The no-strings thing."

"So this wasn't a vanilla fucking, I bet. Did things get wild?" Wonyoung asks as she squeezes her grip on your cock in excitement. "Were there handcuffs or leashes involved? What was it, a spanking? Maybe even gotten yourself a strap, Rei?"

"Oh my god," the embarrassment hits Rei even stronger, even more colour blossoming into her skin, "you're unbelievable," she manages. "So, uh. Not that exactly."

"Yeah? Well, do tell," Gaeul smiles politely. "Might pick up some ideas for my fiancé."

"So there were handcuffs," Rei mutters, then shrugs in an almost nonchalant gesture.

"Yes!" Wonyoung whisper-shouts. "Nice. Let me guess, tied up and whipped." Her hand is the most motionless it has been on your clothed cock the entire time. As if it's frozen in anticipation.

"He restrained me. Cuffed me to the bed. Had his way with me," Rei reveals. It's obvious now she was looking anywhere but in your direction. "The guy was packing too. And knew what he was doing. My whole body was shaking, legs like jelly," she continued, eyes glassy, dreamy even, a thin film covering their beauty, staring ahead without focus. Her nails tap idly at her neck, like she is recalling the memory.

"Fuuuck," Wonyoung swears loudly. "That’s good." She can only speak in hushed tones now, the heat having sapped her strength and turned her speech breathy.

Wonyoung rolls her hips back. Just the slightest bit. But enough for you to feel it, a soft brush across the side of your leg. A brief acknowledgement of contact. An assurance, to you, that Wonyoung hadn't forgotten you or the movements of her hands.

"Shut up," Rei blushes at her friend.

"Look, you're squeezing your thighs together now. Just thinking about this mysterious Mr Orange is turning you on. You sure you're not dripping now?"

"Alright Wony, you're making it weird now." Yujin laughs at her, breaking some of the tension. "Sounds like you need to get laid. Still not doing anything with that boyfriend of yours?" The whole question rolls of her tongue while she’s staring at you. You’re caught in some unspoken, twisted game.

"Nope. Never will. You know I don't like him." Wonyoung’s words are ice cold. You never pushed for details on it, but you have picked up on bits and pieces of this before. As best you understand, her family pushed the relationship on her. He's some wealthy heir from another chaebol family. They never loved each other, or even knew each other properly. The relationship was purely political. Strategic.

"I have to go," Gaeul speaks while frantically tapping away on her phone. It's painfully obvious to everyone in the room what’s happening and where she's going. Her fiance is probably already getting the cuffs ready. But she doesn't seem to care to hide it and, to be frank, she cannot be the only person excited about the prospect of sex right now.

"You two girls should probably go too. I'm going to stay and work on my form a little." Wonyoung turns to face you. "And you're going to help me, right?"

"Of course, whatever you need." You respond automatically, feeling almost obligated at this point. Yujin chuckles at you. Probably internally mocking just how easy you really are. Just like how she described you earlier. Total sub.

"Okay, see you." Gaeul stands abruptly. “I need to—”

“We know.” The rest of you say together. She nods her head and then is heading for the door in a rush, collecting her stuff messily under her arm. She drops her hat at the door and stops to pick it up. While bending down, she looks back at the four of you.

“Have fun!” Rei calls out with genuine excitement.

Gaeul nods again and spins, rushing out the door.

Rei moves slower to leave, reluctant, almost. But once Yujin stands and is gathering her things, Rei follows suit.

“Aren't you supposed to be taking us home?” Yujin looks at you. She already knows how this will play out, but she wants to make her point.

“You could always wait outside for him.” Wonyoung responds for you with a cocky smile. There's no way she is letting you go.

“Why do you need him, anyway?” Rei asks.

“Rei, sweetie, look at her hand.” Yujin turns to her but gestures her hand out towards you—towards your lap.

“Oh. OH!” You can see in her face that she has so many questions, but the stare from Wonyoung makes her keep her mouth shut.

“Let's go,” Yujin places a hand on Rei's shoulder.

The two girls are walking away from you, and all you can do is watch their asses leave. Leggings hug one, the other in shorts, both thick. Plump asses, firm thighs, wide hips. The stretchy material of their clothing barely constrains them.

"Alright, now let's get down to business." Wonyoung immediately shifts to sit astride your thigh. It's not that she doesn't know that Rei and Yujin will spend their whole journey home talking about you two. It's just that she doesn't care.

She's straddling you. Her own leg pinning against your hard bulge. Wonyoung rolls herself along you, sending pleasure radiating in ripples throughout your body. Wonyoung smiles mischievously. "We've got half an hour, maybe."

Her hot breath hitting your face. It's hard to be sure how much of it is from her arousal and how much from the intense dancing not ten minutes ago.

"Fuck, that was so hot. The idea of Gaeul getting her pretty mouth fucked." Wonyoung lets out a satisfied sigh as she sinks her hips against your clothed leg. "Did you see her face? I bet she was creaming at just the memory."

Wonyoung's fingers slip under your waistband, then her hand follows them, wrapping around you and pumping. "You liked it." The confirmation is in her hand, but the grin on her face grows, evidently pleased to find your arousal. She licks her lip hungrily and gives a slow pump of her hand. "That's perfect. I really need a cock right now. In my throat."

As she says it, she backs off your lap, stands and steps away. Just a slight separation, but the difference is enormous: the absence of her hot, wet centre creates a vacuum—impossible to ignore.

She's already twisting around on her heels. Then she pulls her tight, tiny shorts down and takes her thong with them, squatting slightly to pass the clothes over her legs, leaving her bare ass in front of your face. She turns back to you, wearing only her skin tight tank top. Her sodden cunt is now right there, bare and as pretty as ever. "Clothes off."

Obedient and efficient, you pull at the bottom of your shirt to lift it over your head. There's no slow tease, just business: you lift your hips and pull off your shorts and underwear together, while kicking off your shoes.

"Get up," is her instruction, the stern bite on her voice only seeming to harden her demeanour. Wonyoung takes your place on the bench, sitting delicately, like an idol would. Cross-legged and her hands atop her knee. Her top still hugging her frame. She raises one hand and angles a single finger towards you, her wrist pointing to the ceiling. She beckons you, parting her plump lips and resting her head against the mirror behind her.

Mouth, Wonyoung signals again and, with that, you're moving towards her.

Wonyoung demands your attention. Everything about her is inviting: the playful half-lidded gaze as her tongue swirls in her mouth and she lets it roll slowly along her lip. Even just the sharp cut of her jaw and long strands that frame it are striking and you'll be the last one to object to giving her what she asks for.

“Wony—”

"Shh." A sharp sound. Her lips purse. Inviting. "come here."

Without a sound, your stiff cock presses toward Wonyoung's silky-smooth face. Though her lips are glistening and begging for you to glide in, they rest unmoving, arrogantly waiting for you to do the work. It is only for a brief moment, but it's infuriatingly unhelpful. The silence breaks though, and she groans in a mix of anticipation and irritation and tilts her face up, angling her hips against the edge of the bench as a soft hiss escaped her lips. "Now."

Your hand tangles into her hair as she wraps her mouth around you—wet, warm and oh-so very inviting. And she wastes no time in pushing forward and dragging your head in deeper, enveloping you, with her tongue sliding on the underside of your length. And she hums gently, the vibrations reaching you and rippling through the depths of your groin. She is eager for your cock, her hands reaching and clawing. A controlling grasp on your hips.

Your hands remain firmly wound into the strands of her hair, gripping as if you are afraid of floating away, all the blood in your system rushing to your centre, dizzying your brain. She began pulling your hips against her, directing the movements and ensuring each pump brought another inch into her mouth. She continues eagerly. Wonyoung's technique was a blend of savouring and indulgence, an incarnation of sheer passion.

Even from beneath you, Wonyoung maintains all power. She guides you without the slightest hint of effort. The flex of her shoulder, the flow of her arm. She pulls you in.

Deeper.

Every pump bringing your hips closer and closer to her face. Every move is for her, from the angle of her head to the arch of her spine and even the hollowing of her cheeks. She owns the power in your body—and she wants it that way too, drawing you ever deeper, encouraging more movement, silently coaxing and promising a glorious reward at the end.

Keep going. Words unspoken but never more clearly conveyed. The flutter of her eyelids and the fire they temporarily conceal. Her throat contracting against the tip of your cock every time she guides you in. The warm comfort of the excess saliva running from her lower lip.

Eyes fixed on her pretty face and innocent gaze through the not-so-innocent act. Everything around you in a haze.

Deeper.

Captivating. Her movements never waiver and her determination is infallible as your mind clouds and you feel that coil in your belly tighten and constrict and burn through. You know this can't last forever. No matter how much you wish it could, but you're lost in the trance and there's nothing that could break you out of it—except maybe Yuj—fuck, not now.

Wonyoung stops, throwing you a look as if she knows. As if she felt the doubt inside you. She parts her lips and draws her head back.

In a move that washes away all those doubts, Wonyoung brings right leg over left and follows through the movement, lifting her legs onto the bench, feet flat and knees in the air. Back flat against the bench. Head suspended from the end of it.

You're on autopilot, following her face down, your soaked cock leading the way. You shift, putting your knees on the hardwood floor.

She puckers her lips, closing her eyes and arching her back. Wonyoung lures you in. Her tongue curls and reels you inside her mouth. Just an inch and then two, then three, then four. Your eyes revel at the sight. The mirror to your side only elevates the experience as you watch your cock disappear in her. Two Wonyoungs laid side by side, taking two cocks.

Wonyoung continues arching as you push on. Further and further and further.

Deeper.

Until... no more.

Until her eyes squeeze shut and the walls of her throat clenches, seizing down on you.

A strangled moan rasps in your throat as you lunge forward, trying desperately, selfishly, to press beyond the possible. You could lose to her right here and now.

Not now, no, not yet, not without fucking that tight little throat first.

Her throat bulging with the girth of your cock, her muscles desperately attempting to repel the foreign invasion.

Air is at a premium for the petite girl strewn out on the end of your cock. And yet, she settles, relaxes. She feels at home with a throat full of cock. Her long, slender legs remain folded together, yet while you were caught up in the intensity of entering her mouth, Wonyoung found the time to bury a hand between her thighs.

She's fucking her own hand. Rotating her hips and squeezing her thighs.

You draw out of her mouth, only for a second, just to give her the gasp of air she so desperately needs before you fuck into her throat again. Her legs clench as you thrust. Every little bit of pleasure that Wonyoung desires, she gets—as always.

There it is again, the vibrations against your tip as she moans.

Your fists full of hair and now, you pound into her pretty little mouth without pause. Creating the lewdest of sights. Wonyoung on the verge of orgasm, her face filled with you.

She's only becoming more of a mess as you fuck it, the saliva pouring from her mouth running over her. You keep going for so long that she’s spluttering. She’s choking now between the brief moments you give her, just like Gaeul was in her story. This is what Wonyoung wants, exactly how she wanted it.

It’s funny that for a girl so intent on you not making a mess of her, this is what she has become. She just has to really want it. Duly noted.

And god, is she fucking loving it. The pleasure washes over her as her body wriggles, and you continue your thrusting. She continues her own. Together, you take her to her peak. And you don't stop. Her hand doesn't stop—pushing past it, forcing herself into a state of bliss.

It's messier still. It's so fucking messy when she cums. Tears streaming. Saliva drooling. Sticky cum enveloping her hand.

And it's good. It's so fucking good when she moans on your cock. It's soft. It's tight. It vibrates, sucks—holds you and stimulates you. Her throat is—if only for a moment—the best sex toy that money can’t buy.

You have to give it to her, she’s playing the role of toy perfectly.

This toy? It plays with you.

She pushes her hand against the base of your cock. No more fucking. No more exploring the depth of her delicate throat. She had just came, after all.

That’s what matters to her.

You—you're on the edge and hanging on for dear life. The knot is twisted so tight that it hurts. And holding you on that edge is Wonyoung, holding you by the cock. An unmoving hand. If you weren't already on your knees, you would fall to them.

"Fuck, that was good." Wonyoung peeks around the cock she holds above her face, a wry smile painting her lips.

You want to reply, but your need to cum is clouding your mind like the most powerful of drugs. Words are just letters floating around your mind. Intoxicated by a woman, as you have been so many times. She's not just any woman.

"What's wrong? Aww, do you want to cum?" She playfully, with no real grip, twists and pulls her hand on your cock. It's not enough.

You let out a huff and nod.

She flashes an evil grin. "How about on my face?"

It's not something she's ever offered before. As much as you thought, so many times, about covering her pretty face in your cum, you never expected her to offer it. Perhaps that alone should serve as a warning. Too good to be true.

But at this point, you don't give a fuck. In her throat, on her face, you just need her to give you a sweet release. You chase it, pushing your hips towards her hands, desperately searching for friction. Blinded by lust, as dumb as a dog.

"First, tell me something." It says a lot about her. How she can be mostly naked, on her back underneath you, freshly fucked throat and all. And somehow she holds all the cards in this situation. "Did you fuck Yujin?"

"No..." It's not strictly a lie. You never put your cock inside her.

"I saw your dirty faces, the way you look at each other. And the way she told that story, about you, with you right there."

"Wonyoung. We didn't fuck. But even if we did, would that be so bad?"

"But she let you cum on her?” Wonyoung laughs aloud and starts playfully stroking your cock again. "You should have fucked her."

The action of her hand is torture, keeping you dangling and off balance. You were so close to the release and now she is holding you over the precipice, with no warning of a fall either way. You're as lost for words as you are for action. But truthfully, is it even a surprise that Wonyoung doesn't care if you do fuck her friend? She is the one cheating on her boyfriend, after all. Your only crime may be not telling her first.

"Now, will you cum on my face already? I know Yujin will never let you do this." And that’s it. The crux of it all. It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The reason this is happening, any of this here in this room, is because she refuses to be outshone. She intends to match act for act with all her friends, except Yujin. Yujin, she wants to beat—and the game is you.

And the irony is, she would never let her boyfriend do any of this.

"Fuck, Wony, you're insane," you grit, nearly delirious. This couldn't get any better. Two identical hot girls, mirrored and now they're getting even more adventurous. And Wonyoung finally ready to give you the satisfaction of blowing a load on her face? You couldn’t care less why it was happening, only that it was.

You fucking into her grip. In some metaphor for the whole relationship, your hips do work while her hand guides, keeping you aimed at her innocent face. She softly closes her eyes, slightly parting her lips. Waiting. She looks so beautiful, relaxed and comfortable, despite knowing what was coming. Despite the saliva still running from her mouth. Despite the post orgasm glow on her face.

"Anytime now." Wonyoung opened one eye, her face still pointing directly upwards. "Don’t make me ask again."

The feeling takes over, starting at the root of your spine, in the base of your gut, and bubbling like a cauldron ready to explode. Her soft hand strokes harder, working you the last few paces as her tongue slips past her pink lips, flicking over them gently.

The sensations erupt. That familiar hot-cold tingle. Those electrifying nerves firing off. You buck wildly, firing off ribbons of cum across Wonyoung's flawless, innocent face. Her lips spread apart in a wide open-mouthed gasp and then shut immediately afterwards.

And, amidst the spurting of cum and the euphoric high, Wonyoung deviously began licking, slurping, sucking. Swiping the fluid off her lips, catching every shot. Her face is the image of debauchery. You're fixated—stretching out the few remaining seconds of orgasm as your cock twitches in her hand and on her face. She's draining you dry with her naughty smirk.

Even when it’s over and done, she maintains that same confident look on her face. Her nose and lips are shiny and dripping with cum. But she never hesitates; her mouth parts and her tongue juts out, curling up to you. Your cock disappears inside, a wet-hot paradise. She's cleaning you. Swirling her tongue and sliding up the length, pulling off the mess. Sucking on the tip to coax the last remnants to pool inside her waiting mouth.

Your body burns. Satisfaction seeping out your limbs and leaving your body weightless, barely holding yourself over her on the wooden bench.

She draws you out. Dripping with her spit. Hanging heavy. Sensitive as her mouth lets go and pulls back, the suction releasing. Then, lips tight, mouth closing, her neck moving as she swallows.

Wonyoung twists and rises, sitting again the bench, in your kneeled position this leaves you eye to eye.

Pain. Stinging.

So much of it on your left cheek.

She just slapped you. She fucking slapped you. You're bigger than her, stronger than her, and yet you feel so small.

"Next time you fool around with another girl, you get my permission first."

Her voice is icy. You shake your head, holding your face. Staring at your reflection in the mirror; you're flush but one cheek is redder than the other. And you can see her too. She’s pulling up part of her top, wiping away most of your cum—the bits that didn’t already fall onto her body or into her hair, anyway. Her face looks like an angel's, but her actions betraying the illusion.

"Now make it up to me." She's looking at you through the reflection. Then, turning and facing you directly, she reaches out to hold you by the jaw, pulling your focus back to her. It’s hard to believe that she’s the one cheating here.

She slaps you again.

You're locked in a cold and silent stare. Tied together by tension.

You're stunned. Left at her mercy. Wonyoung dips her head forward, going in for a kiss, her heart-shaped lips plant directly on your own and before you know it, you're returning the kiss.

It's rough, and it's messy. She bites at you—hard—while her fingers claw your skin, running along your muscles. All until suddenly she pulls you, guides you. Not physically, but that's certainly what it feels like. Such is your response. You take her place on the bench, sitting while she leans over you.

Wonyoung breaks the kiss and leaves you to watch the scene unfold and admire her perfect form, lithe and slender but not without toned definition, which is exactly why she could pull off outfits that would send men insane, simply based on how she looks underneath.

Her hands splay across her flawless flesh. Deliberately. Slowly.

Never a movement out of place and ensuring her head is held high and regal—a queen's demeanour.

Standing over you. Looking down upon you, no less arrogant than before. It’s her natural position. Her default state. To have power over man.

If she didn't look so angelic, you'd swear she's a devil.

Starting at her shoulders, fingertips slipping over the porcelain skin of her arms until they reach the elbows and hop over to her waist, gripping the hem of her tank top. It doesn't sit as tight as it did before—bunched up, a little twisted, and dashed in cum. It doesn't sit in any fashion for much longer as she pulls it overhead in a single motion. The top lands discarded and forgotten. Her hair, damp and ruffled, now cascades over her petite shoulders in thick strands.

She's bare now. Head to toe. Your eyes dart all over, drinking her beauty like a tall glass of water. Taking in all her stunning details—she is a perfect portrait of a perfect woman, a fantasy even.

This image has been burned into your mind many times over. Yet somehow, each and every time feels new. Awestruck, you admire her petite body, the lean and firm muscles, and just enough of a pair of breasts that gravity calls their name.

"Wony. You're so—"

"I know." She cocks an arrogant smirk.

"I think—"

"I know." She stalks slowly closer. Like a predator over its prey.

"I want to—"

"Oh. I know." She's so damn cute when she giggles. It almost feels inappropriate for what's going down. And then the little devil rears within her again, manifesting in her expression. Darker than it was before.

Her fingers trace her flat stomach, rising and falling in time with her breaths. A cadence to them which tells a story of excitement, no less excited than the first time she teased you in your car. Now here, and over a month later, you still haven't gotten your fill. Even this—maybe especially this—could never be enough. The slightest and subtlest hints of arousal are beautiful on her. She's practically purring when she perches on top of you and pins you back against the mirror by the shoulders.

"Who does your big dick belong to?" She poses the question while delicately lowering herself onto you, staring into your eyes. You hesitate to answer, too stricken by the image of Wonyoung finding a comfortable seat on you.

"You." No matter what your relationship might be or who else was involved, in this moment, like so many before it, you are hers and no other. "Fuck me, Wonyoung, please."

"So very needy." The words roll off her tongue as the heat of her cunt skates up toward your middle. So close against your skin, you can feel her pulse throb against your stomach. Her petite ass pressing down onto your stiff cock. Her hands spread wide and palms flat on your chest, steadying her, giving her strength. Her hips roll, coating you with the wetness between her thighs. Back arched, neck strained, head tilting upwards. Every muscle flexes in her exposed form.

She is unadulterated eroticism, every grind of her hips and caress of her hands. An utter marvel.

"Don't. Move." Every word has her breath caught in her throat.

Been through this so many times before that there's an unspoken understanding. Wonyoung scoots her body over you. Hand reaching for your cock. Delicate fingers. Dainty, as she grips it, guiding, angling it against her. Lower, lower until—she finds the entrance and presses it against herself. A sharp intake of air. Her eyes squeezed closed. She holds there for a second until gravity takes control, hips dropping to impale her onto your length.

Your eyes roll back and so does your mind, back to the view of Wonyoung's body moving during the dance. Does she know she's mirroring those mesmerising hip movements on you? Maybe not. But it doesn't change anything. Not to Wonyoung. She does it so naturally—the consummate performer, who knows what works.

You're looking down. Down. Down to where she's perched on your dick. Admiring her tight cunt, working so hard to take you in. Muscles gripping. Walls clenching. Stretching to fit. Working her body downward.

Her ass never rests on you. This is all her work. Perpetual motion. Constant and consistent. Down and then up and then down and back up. Gradual. Calculated and controlled. Fingers raking at your chest as the motion of her body doubles as the dance, sending that intoxicating swaying motion through her and into you.

Eyes travel up. How her toned abs flex. Trim and petite. It all only serves to highlight just how pretty a figure she cuts. Elegant and alluring. Sinking down, squeezing you into her.

Higher. Her perky little tits in front of your face. Smooth, perfect, porcelain.

Higher. Her sharp collarbone, all the little contours, carved for her as though by the most brilliant artisan.

Higher. Neck curved, shifting from her swallow and gasp.

To her blood-red lips. They part and between them her tongue flicks, hitting her front teeth before she bites down on her lower lip. It stifles a soft moan until it's barely a whisper.

And her eyes. Sheer focus. Not on you. But on the mirror behind you.

On her own reflection.

All the time you spend to admire her, she is doing the same thing. Staring herself up and down. It is selfish and greedy. An egotistical desire. An intimate moment—with the person she truly loves most.

It's narcissism taken to a degree you've never seen before. An addictive kind of worship. For both of you.

"Wony..." holding your eyes up to hers, watching her as she's watching herself. She looks like a goddess. "Does it feel good? I love the feeling of my cock inside you," you say in an attempt to gain her focus. "Fuck. You're perfect."

A soft exhale as her eyes lock onto yours for just a moment, then her lashes flutter closed.

She takes a hand from your chest and plants it over your mouth. Her eyes flicker back to life and she's got them on the mirror again.

She's aggressive now. The girl in the mirror is hitting her hips harder than before onto the cock beneath her. Her crotch hitting against your own. You can't help but steer into the skid, being the silent participant she desires. You're pawing your hands at her cunt now. Figuring out then matching her rhythm and pushing your finger against her clit. It's obscene, hearing her wet cunt smacking against your legs.

Her almost silent focus breaks. She's not stifling her moans anymore.

And fuck you for saying this: but watching her watch herself makes the moment fucking magical.

Her eyebrows knitting as the tides of pleasure crash over her. Her lower lip quivering. The wrinkles on her nose. Her chest fluttering. A struggle to maintain her posture.

She's shaking. From her arms to her knees and through to the tips of her fingers.

She throws herself forward against you.

Head on your shoulder. Her forehead against the glass.

Wonyoung's entire body is convulsing on you. A string of incomprehensible cries echoing against the empty walls. You grab at the flesh of her ass with your hands, clamping her tight, encouraging her to keep pushing back into you and ride out the orgasm. She is shaking violently in your embrace. She is grinding, squeezing, tightening, and quaking all at once.

You run a hand up her moist back, along her spine. Meeting many moistened locks of hair, sticking to her skin. You hold your hand at the top of her back, supporting her limp frame against you.

Her mouth is right by your ear. You listen to the final quiet noises of bliss escaping her. Washing out of her. She lets you know just how good it was, if not from those satisfied groans and the shuddering of her body, then from the deluge of her arousal pooling around your cock and her cunt. She is dripping cum. Hot and sticky, in more than one spot. It was messy. Messy, but it was unbridled fun.

"What the fuck was that?" you whisper. She raises her head off your shoulder and leans back, sitting tall on top of you. Still, your cock is inside, throbbing and ready for its turn. Her hands snake to your jaw and hold it tightly.

"Exactly what I needed."

"And the mirror thing?"

"What can I say? I look pretty when I'm fucking." Wonyoung laughs, soft and breathy, an intimate moment shared only by you two. Now it’s not like you should be surprised by any of it. On a scale of one to ten, Wonyoung is an eleven, though you imagine you asked her. She would give herself a twelve.

The hands leave your jaw, only to be replaced with the pressure of Wonyoung pressing forward again to kiss you. More? Finally.

"You wanna cum again?" she asks, words separated by kisses before moving to your neck.

"Mmmm..." is all the answer you can give, distracted by the feeling of her body shifting against yours.

Wonyoung pulls back from your neck to look at you, burrowing her hand into the hair at the back of your head. She squeezes into a fist, forcing a grimace of pain from you, which brings a grin to her lips.

"Is that a yes?" Her voice a blade edge against your ears.

"Fuck. Yes. Of course."

"That's what I thought." The sly girl, hiding the self-assured vixen underneath her exquisite exterior. "Stand. I want you to fuck me against the mirror."

Still planted to the hilt inside her, you begin to stand.

You're unable to pull out of the tight wet warmth that is Jang Wonyoung. Her grip tight on you—coiling around your cock—effectively pinning you in her. Her body melts against you like candle wax. Warm and lax.

She's weightless as you stand, her slender frame clasped around your body. It's easy to manhandle a girl this small—one of your hands, pressed firmly to her back, can encompass her tiny waist. Your other arm hooks under her ass, holding her suspended. And, for the time being, all of her is draped over and around you.

You press her to the cold mirror, and she shudders, arching her back. Her entire body stretches as if trying to get further from it—leaving a smear of sweat on it. Legs lock around your hips. Folded tight. Locking in the key. Caging you between her thighs. You hold her with a single hand now—curling it under her tiny ass. Fingertips gripping, digging into flesh. The other against the mirror—for balance.

You bend your knees, taking position, gaining posture. The slightest movement it causes inside her brings a gasp. She's clinging tighter to you. Her arms coil around your shoulders, her ankles crossed around the small of your back, her core tightening and squeezing her pelvis forward—grinding herself into you. The squeeze on your cock exhilarates. The pressure is immense—inside and outside. You've never had her this tight.

A rumble rasps through your vocal chords as a growl escapes your mouth. It vibrates against the warmth of her neck and into her small frame.

"Come on, give it to me, don’t hold back" her lips barely move as they whisper against you.

"Is that what you want, Wonyoung? You want me to fuck you as hard as I can against the mirror?" Your hips press firmly against hers. Her tight cunt does its best to embrace you.

"Fuck. Yes."

That was all the cue you needed, drawing back and then slamming yourself deep in her—and back again—forming the thrust into a series of unforgiving blows.

She bounces between your pelvis and the cool glass, rattling as her naked form is hit against the mirror. Small, supple and yielding, taking your full force, each movement amplified and exaggerated in her tiny frame. Her cries—from shock, surprise, pleasure, and delight—they echo. The lewd smacks of flesh hitting, the loud moans and the heat. It all collides right here on the wall of the studio.

It's frantic. It's furious. It's fucking euphoric. You're locked inside a beauty who is getting filled to the absolute brim by your cock. It's a power rush—Wonyoung's eternal play on control and dominance being robbed from her and your ability to just keep pounding into her tight, wet cunt.

"Ah!" Wonyoung winces. You pause for a brief second. Did she really mean stop? But a moment later, her lips curl into a grin, "Yes! Harder! Don't hold back. I need you to wreck my fucking pussy!"

And it begins anew—all the noise. The bouncing, slamming and swearing. And despite the fire and the fury, you can sense a strange calm. Like this is exactly where the two of you are supposed to be. This is exactly where the both of you always needed to be. Right here. In the moment. Because Wonyoung doesn't need a man and she didn't need someone who would fall at her feet and treat her like royalty—she has enough of those. No, all she ever needed was a dick who could fuck her within an inch of her life.

A hard slam sends Wonyoung crashing back to the mirror with a shrill yelp and a wide grin. "Yes! Exactly like that!"

Firm fingers twist into your flesh, her hands clawing, desperately grasping at anything she could find to ground her, all while your brutal assault continues unabated, sending waves of ecstasy cascading through both bodies. Her wails rise and break—crescendos interrupted—but never stopped. Both of you are a complete mess as the furious fuck brings out everything each of you are. The deep animalistic desires. And when you hear her scream, it is a different kind of high.

"Don't stop! Don't you dare fucking stop! Don't fucking sto—mm!" she struggles and gasps for breath, struggling to keep track of her words, the raging bonfire between her legs clouding her mind. "F-fuck..."

"Cumming? Cum." The only words you could manage. You could feel it too, the rising tide. A mountain climber, clinging to the peak, each and every muscle engaged in the fight.

"Yes—" her breath is snatched before another animalistic moan. "Don't stop." She pulls at your hair, claws at your back, a fierce warning. "Don't fucking cum yet."

She holds, gripping onto the ridge, the muscles in her arms, in her legs, her hands tense. The world turns, spinning, and spiralling—the two of you holding tight to one another, both grunting with the strain. She is cumming now, you know it. She spasms against you, against the mirror, and she’s becoming ever more difficult to hold.

Your feet are failing you, threating to give way. In a desperate act, you spin from the wall, drop to your knees, taking Wonyoung with you. There's no stopping you now. Feral. Bestial. Both of your bodies crashing together. She's arching, clawing, and pulling and urging you forward. On the hardwood floors, you fuck like animals. Your legs may have given way, but your hips don't surrender. Don't succumb to the exertion. You're fucking her in to the floor. Her tiny ass pressed against it.

The thundering smack of flesh.

Tumultuous breathing and roaring, unbroken moans.

Arching, bending.

Heating and rising.

You're right on the edge.

She never lets you finish inside.

"Wonyoung, I..."

"Don't fucking dare." Her voice sharp. You hold on to the feeling for dear life. "On me."

It's enough. You accept that it’s never in her. Never before on her, but now twice in a day. It’s enough. She can't possibly mean it...

"I'm—Fuck, I'm..."

"On me. Yes. Cum allover me." She releases you from her grasp and you pull back to your knees. She spreads herself for you. Arms out to her side, palms flat on the hardwood floors, legs pulled apart with her knees resting on your hips. Presenting for you.

Your hand wraps around your shaft, throbbing and hot to touch. You beat your cock for a few quick seconds, with balls tight, with Wonyoung laid prone for you, watching you stroke your cock.

Watching her. She arches, presses herself upwards, offering her breasts, her stomach... her face.

You don't have any time to think. It is happening.

You unload on her with a sharp grunt, met with a shocked gasp. Coating her petite form. The white stuff gliding across her porcelain skin, decorating the gorgeous girl beneath you. The lean cut of a dancer, now adorned in your cum. You shoot ropes of it across her perky little tits and narrow stomach and her pretty face. A sticky sheen glazes her and drips down. Her tongue flickers, collecting what she can and her mouth hungrily welcomes each droplet.

What's this, you wonder? Is this to be her addiction?

Every motion of her body screams need, sexual need. She wants it all, greedily licking and lapping it up as you drop the final rivulets of cum onto her tummy.

You're captivated as you watch Wonyoung, laying patiently under a sputtering of cum, a thin layer glossing parts her body. She didn't bother to wipe it or scoop it up, instead; it ran down her, following the channels carved out by her subtle contours. A work of art in your eyes—this pretty face, contorted in twisted lust—at the feeling of hot, sticky fluid painting her perfect body.

In all these moments you two have shared, this truly is a first. A messy, debauched cum covered Wonyoung.

"Does it feel good to cover me with your cum?"

You nod.

"Say it. Out loud, I can see it in your eyes. You like seeing your cum on my pretty little face? On my body?"

"I fucking love it, Wony," you mutter and she laughs, a laugh somewhere between playful and impish.

"I feel filthy," Wonyoung confesses with a devilish smirk. "I bet you love to hear that?"

"Yes. Yes," you breathe the words out as you desperately try to catch your breath. Her leg comes up, sliding her toes along the underside of your sensitive cock. Too sensitive.

"Agh," you flinch. "Fuck."

She pushes the tip of your cock against your stomach, rubbing her toes on it and you start to pull away, the friction causing pain.

"Stay." Her tone is a firm demand, in control of the situation—despite her current state. Your body obeys the instruction. Her toes start to roam across your softening cock again. Slick with her fluids. She twists, rubbing the shaft. Pinches, rubbing the head. Pulls, tugging down. The intensity of stimulation is mind numbing. A sick mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Who's the best?" Wonyoung asks. It takes a few seconds to process, a delay, and longer than normal. Your brain fogged. Too much to even formulate words.

"Who's the best, hm? Answer me." Her demand is no louder but feels heavier. Her foot slides down your cock, pushing at the base, pushing at your balls.

Your words are slow to follow.

"Wonyo—" she presses more, and a shock runs up the base of your spine. "Agh...you. Wonyoung, you." Your words choke up. "You're the best."

"Thought so."

Another moment of silent pause. She puckers her lips, sucking up and swallowing a patch of your cum that found it’s way to her hand. It draws your eyes to her, a silent spectacle. She locks on you, her gaze so steady and so piercing.

"And, who's going to clean this mess up so we don't get caught?"

"Me." The words tumble out, falling off your lips.

"Good. Your bathroom is down the hall. Don't get caught, and don't leave a trace." She recoils her foot and then climbs out of the mess the two of you left on the floor. Her step is awkward. Your load is now starting to harden on her. Her calves slick from her own cum. The gloss of it shining on her skin.

All the time, her face beaming. Satisfied and glowing. Wonyoung is relishing her depraved state. She doesn't wait for you to follow. Not even a look as she collects her clothes. Her shorts with the thong. Her completely ruined tank top. Both shoes. She starts to walk, again with that awkward gait.

After only a couple of steps she looks over her shoulder, back at you, still subdued on the floor. "By the way. That was your best yet. That… was amazing." She smiles softly and heads to the changing room. She disappears. Leaving your mind and your imagination to swirl as you stare at her spot on the floor long after she was gone.

The cum, her sweat, the stickiness—all the marks that prove she was there, the evidence that paints a picture of what went on in this dance studio.

You never see her leave. She must have slipped out between trips to and from the bathroom, and then the janitor's closet, which you eventually found. You thank the stars for Wonyoung's privilege—that meant no staff are needed on the evenings she is here.

What a strange silence it was as you cleaned—nothing but the rain outside. An unsettling contrast between what went on before. Almost tranquil—like that weird place just before waking, before reality has time to assert itself and erase the dream of the night before.

***

"It's dance practice tonight. I take it you'll be there again, following Wonyoung as usual?" Yujin mocks you playfully while playing with her straw between her delicate fingers. Her glass half-full of milkshake which she lazily stirs and drinks. Drinks loudly with a slurp on the straw.

"Don't you want me there?" you reply after swallowing the last bite of your meal and setting down your cutlery. The cafeteria is as lively as ever. Aside from this particular table, where it's only the two of you. It's not the type of table just anyone can take a seat at—Wonyoung wouldn't allow it.

"Doesn't matter. Wony's the one that invited you."

"She just wants me to—"

"Wants you to fuck her. Yeah, we all know." Yujin lets go of her straw, and it settles into the milkshake. You both lean back in the plastic cafeteria seats. She crosses her arms. "And no, it's not that I'm jealous. Don't even try it."

"I didn't say anything." You show her the palms of your hands. Not guilty is your plea.

"At least if I hang around, I can take you guys home, right? No need for your father to send a car." Always the people pleaser, you are.

"And did that happen last week? No, it didn't." Yujin picks up her drink and takes a slurp from the straw while staring at you. It's hard to tell if she's actually annoyed at you. Her words would say so, but her tones remain calm and soft when she speaks.

Besides, she knows that she could just as easily make the same demands Wonyoung does, and you'd be on your knees for her in a second.

But it's been 8 whole days since that night at Yujin's house. And she's yet to even hint that she wants it to happen again. The more you think about it, the more confused you get.

"Not interrupting am I? I can give you some alone time if you like?" Gaeul places her hand on your shoulder, looking down at you and grinning.

"Not funny Gaeul. And no. Sit." Unusually cold from Yujin, she avoids your eye and gives Gaeul a short-tempered response.

Gaeul walks around behind Yujin, giving you a wide-eyed glare as she goes. As if to say 'what did you do?' It's impossible to answer with words. It's all too much, too tangled.

She takes a seat next to Yujin, placing her iced coffee on the table along with her protein bar. It's typical Gaeul. She's always on the move, living life at an aggressive pace, constantly busy. Even now she's on her phone, scrolling through something. You can't see what from this angle, and you've barely got the chance to catch her eyes and smile at her. But her face lights up, the brightness mirrored as you smile back.

"They're announcing the casts tonight for the graduation performances." Yujin nods as her finger points toward Gaeul's phone.

"We already know how it's going to go down. They’re not going to deny the money and status of a Jang. And we’ll be there to back her up." Gaeul pauses and takes a sip of her drink. "For us anyway. That's all that matters."

Gaeul slips the phone back into her bag and then scoops up the protein bar, starting to unwrap it. Before she takes a bite she asks you, "what about you? Why didn't you ever sign up to anything?"

"Because he's too busy sitting in the back of dance classes staring at our asses," Yujin answers for you.

"Actually, I'm still new here, remember? I just haven't got around to it yet."

"Yeah, because you're too busy staring at our asses," Yujin persists with a coy smile.

"Sure. Let's call it that. So I've been too busy staring at your asses to sign up for any classes."

"Alright, not too loud." Gaeul laughs. How did the conversation always end up going the same way? And how are you always in the middle of it? Thankfully, Gaeul decides to bail you out. "So, bro, any plans to go to the party tomorrow night?"

"You mean the one I didn't get an invitation to?" you're quick to ask back.

"You can be my plus one."

"Boyfriend not in town?" Yujin is quick to ask before you can reply to Gaeul.

"Nope. But I can't let that spoil my fun, plus it means I can bring a friend." Her eyes flutter back across to you. "Unless you've already got a plan for tomorrow night?"

"Sure, why not? Not like I've got much else going on. Are you going to be there, Yujin?"

Yujin swallows the last slurp of her milkshake, the loud straw sucking noise filling the void of the pause. "I'll be there. Actually, I need you tomorrow, before the party."

"Before?"

"Yes. You're going to help me pick a dress." It's not exactly the exciting rendezvous that sprung to mind. You weren't even sure exactly why you had to go. Why Yujin would need your opinion?

You open your mouth to speak but before even a syllable comes out, you spot Wonyoung across the room, heading towards the three of you. Yujin catches on and follows your gaze, not long before Gaeul follows suit, twisting in her chair. For a moment, the three of you are watching Wonyoung stride over the tiled floor. Each footstep seems to make the world grow quieter. People all around seem to part for her. It's not even conscious on their part.

It's hypnotising. It's captivating. It's utterly spellbinding the way she moves.

She has a sense of dignity, class, and poise. There's an elegance to her, and just a hint of sway in her hips. At the same time, Wonyoung's every movement also screams of a fierce strength. An undercurrent of steel. Not intimidating—not intentionally at least. Maybe simply the natural impression of a strong young woman, fearlessly unapologetic.

She reaches the three of you, greeting with a grin. "Did I miss much?"

Gaeul is the first to reply. "Just talking about the party."

"Oh exciting. I've seen the guest list. I can't wait." Wonyoung slides gracefully into the seat by your side, carefully placing her designer bag on the table. No need for her to say any more, Wonyoung and high-brow parties go hand-in-hand.

The room around you is slowly, subtly coming back to life. Sounds from everywhere start, one by one, to creep back in. The conversations return. The low hubbub. The clattering of trays. It's getting loud again.

Wonyoung continues, "and I do need to get out of the house. Father is away again and mother drives me insane."

"He's away again?" Yujin asks, shuffling in her seat and then leaning forward. She brings her palm to her chin and her elbow onto the table.

"New York this time. Something like that. Company business." Wonyoung dismisses. You are well aware that they've never been close. He's worked from the earliest day she can remember up until now—that’s the life of the head of a chaebol. She told you before about how he's rarely home. And even when his body is, his mind is still half-way around the globe. His wife probably suffers for it, too. She raises the kids alone.

And look, you were never one to pry, so the details aren't all there, but Wonyoung seemed confident that her father wasn't exactly faithful. The kind of stories you'd normally imagine just being made up by rich housewives who had too much time on their hands—but she told you he had quite the appetite for the kind of services the elite always seemed to appreciate.

"New York?" Yujin thinks for a moment, living in her own head. "I could do New York. Me and you? A girl’s trip. That sounds..."

"But what about the guy?" Gaeul points at you.

Wonyoung puts her hand on your leg, sliding down and rubbing your knee. "You'll stay here and wait for us, won't you?"

"Well, I was thinking that, you know, you could take him with you?" You never saw this coming. Maybe you should, but it caught you off guard. The three of you in the Big Apple for a week? Sign you the fuck up, and then some.

Not that you'd have a chance in hell of affording such a trip. The reality is often harsher than the dream.

"We could, but I don't think it would be fair on Yujin. Unless we..." It takes the others a moment to figure out exactly what Wonyoung is implying.

"No way, don't bring me into this. You already said that it would be weird. We’re too competitive."

They're speaking in tongues now and Gaeul's face full of confusion likely mirrors your own.

"What are you two talking about?" Gaeul questions, for her sake and yours. But before she get's an answer, she's looking out of the corner of her eye. She freezes for a minute and then turns to face the vice principal. She's headed right for your table and the four of you succumb to silence.

There's not many reasons a staff member would visit a group of students while they're eating at lunch. None of you are late with an assignment nor have you failed any tests. Not even a recent school event gone wrong. It must be something worse.

"Am I interrupting?" The Vice Principal stands over your table, looking over the four of you.

You all shake your head in unison, a lock of hair falling over Yujin's face, which she quickly sweeps back behind her ear.

The vice principal points in your direction, pointing right between your eyes. "You. Principal's office. Now."

The eyes of the girls fall on you. All of them shocked by the statement.

It's unheard of to be dragged into the Principal's office on a random Friday for seemingly no reason.

What's your first reaction? A chill in your stomach. Butterflies in flight, soaring. Fingers gripping tight to the fabric of your pants. Heart racing in your chest. Feeling dizzy. Lightheaded.

"Ummm. Can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

"You can ask the principal. Move."

***

"Take a seat." The principal gestures with an open hand at the two chairs across the desk from her. She's staring right at you through the reading glasses hanging on her face. Her perfectly pressed suit makes her look powerful—imposing.

And this room? This tiny room, with its uncomfortable hard-backed chairs in front of the big imposing mahogany desk? That's as much of a psychological tactic as it is functional. Because you know this; everyone knows this: the people who sit in these chairs are invariably there to get told off.

This room is designed with a sole purpose; to cause you discomfort and make you feel small. Make you regret your actions. Remind you that this isn't a friend's house, and you don't get to act up here.

"Sit." She insists. The tone of voice is harsh, but you're certain there's an undertow of regret there too. You sit, almost falling into the chair in the most awkward and graceless way. It squeaks under the pressure, but thankfully, no sound comes out of your mouth. Not a peep.

"Effective today. You are expelled from the institution."

What the fuck?

"What the fuck?"

"You will be escorted off the premises immediately. Your bags, belongings and text books will all be packed and returned to you at your registered address."

"You can't do this!" Can they? How is this fair? What went wrong?

"You will not be able to return to campus, as the academic board has taken into consideration the severity and inappropriate nature of the events that occurred on the grounds."

The severity and inappropriate nature...

Her words—they hit hard. Suck the air out of the room, leave your lips dry, and a strange emptiness in your belly. Your fingers grip tight to the armrests of the chair, fighting for a grasp on any emotion—any hope or words to grasp onto.

Nothing.

There is nothing you can say. No reason or explanation you could offer. Nothing.

The walls around the both of you stand, large, impenetrable and collapsing on you.

"The evidence produced to myself was conclusive. You and an unknown partner committed obscene acts last week in the school library. That is grounds for expulsion without appeal."

Unknown partner? Of course.

Now what?

coup de théâtre

Next part

#wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #ive smut #ive x reader #male reader smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #Yujin smut #Gaeul smut #Rei smut

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seiwas · 1 month

Text

₊˚⊹｡ i'll stay on this drive for as long as you'd like | fushiguro megumi

wc: 3.2k

summary: megumi knows you a lot better than you think.

contains: f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader, non-curse!au, college!au, established relationship, hurt/comfort.

a/n: some songs for the vibe: streetcar - daniel caesar, the movies - nightly, night drive - red velvet.

part: 1 | 2 | 3 series m.list: by your passenger seat

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: acting like it’s okay when you know it’s too much

sponsored by @ceroseis and @itskilau for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

It’s on the drive back from one of your friends’ graduation afterparty that Megumi can tell something’s off.

The trees whizzing past your window begin to dwindle, commercial buildings replacing them bit by bit—a clear sign of your trip drawing further away from the party venue and closer to the bustling streets of home.

He looks over to you every now and then, your back pressed against the black leather seats of his sedan. That spot is yours, adjusted and fitted to your liking; on most days, you settle into it comfortably, but tonight, you sit with unease.

There’s a tightness around your shoulders that extends all the way down to your clenched fists, and if it still isn’t any obvious from that, it’s one look at how you bite down tensely on your jaw that gives you away completely.

Are you cold? He wonders, then checks the AC.

Spring has brought in warmer days, but the nights are unpredictable—

His brows furrow, one hand tightening around the steering wheel as he uses the other to increase the temperature slightly. Just in case.

—you’re still wearing the microfleece jacket he brought to the afterparty.

Only a few words have been exchanged between you two so far—which is not unusual. Car rides with you are typically silent, comfortable in that either of you can speak whenever you want; there’s never any pressure to fill in empty pauses and long stretches of nothingness.

It’s always a shared look, maybe a touch; a joint experience in enjoying each other's company despite not doing much.

But, this quiet is different. Tense. One that’s riddled with feelings you seem to be hiding.

Megumi can tell.

You pick your nails from his periphery, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you focus on the road straight ahead. On your lap rests your phone, filled with songs queued up for CarPlay—a task you’ve made your own since marking your permanence in his passenger seat.

A slow reverb plays as the accompaniment to your silence, and the song is familiar, one he knows full well exists in some of your vaguely named mood playlists.

“Sometimes you just want to feel something, y’know?”

And Megumi thinks that’s all fine and good; Kugisaki’s called him ‘moody’ more than a few times. But he watches you now and he can’t even tell what you’re feeling exactly, just that you don’t feel okay.

He hears you take in a breath.

In the years you’ve known each other, Megumi’s learned that you tell him most things, but only when you’re ready. It’s not a problem with him, it’s just your way of processing things—is how you explained it.

Still, something about the way you’d gradually curled in on yourself and avoided most of the night’s conversations makes him feel worried. It gives him the sinking feeling that if he doesn’t ask about it now, you’ll let tonight play out like nothing’s wrong; you’ll sweep it under the rug and when he asks about it next time, you’ll dust it off like it never happened to begin with.

Then he’ll never know.

And, that doesn’t sit well with him at all.

His eyes glance over at the directions on his CarPlay. The breath he takes is crucial, inhaled with contemplation before it’s released with his decision.

At the end of the song’s chorus, right before it changes key for the bridge, Megumi takes a detour. His palm lays flat on the wheel as he turns it to the left abruptly. An excuse waits at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out for when you say—

“I think we were supposed to go straight…” your voice trails off, equal parts unsure and fragile.

“Gojo-sensei wants me to check out a property,” he lies, straight through his teeth. It doesn’t sound too far off from a real possibility.

“Oh,” you mumble, more resigned than usual as your fingers reach for the screen. “Do you want me to pin it?”

“No need,” he pauses, eyes momentarily flitting over to your hand.

The thought simmers for only a second before he reaches for your fingers with his own, interlacing them together and stroking your knuckles with his thumb; back and forth, gently.

It’s a habit he’s developed in well over the year that you’ve been together; a grounding sign of his affection that no longer flusters him as much as it used to. It means many things, but he hopes you can tell what he’s trying to say right now—

“I want you to tell me what you’re thinking,” as he rests your interlaced hands on your thigh.

The warmth on your lap causes you to look up, your lips curling up into a tight smile.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

Maybe you think it does the job, but Megumi knows you; he knows how you breathe when you’re anxious, knows the way your eyelashes flutter when you’re on the brink of tears. He knows when your smile isn’t any bit genuine, when it fails to reach your eyes and you turn away quickly as if to hide that fact.

He clasps your hands together and squeezes.

You hold your breath, turning your head to watch the view: city buildings reverting back to trees.

It runs down the side of the road in an endless stream, along with time, and the unease that settles in his stomach when you don’t respond to his squeeze with familiar grip.

He looks on ahead.

Megumi has no idea where the fuck he’s driving to; the directions on his CarPlay constantly reroute him back to your neighborhood, but he’s taking every wrong turn and crossing every road he isn’t supposed to just to buy some more time to stay in this ride with you.

“This is that new artist you’ve been talking about lately, right?” he attempts.

You only hum.

The car slows for a red on the stoplight ahead, and he tells himself he’ll give you this time and wait until it ends. If after this, you’re still quiet—

It turns green.

—”Is everything okay?” he makes sure to look at you when he asks.

When your eyes meet his, he can already tell what front you’re about to play up. It’s painful when he watches your face shift into something else, eyes forcibly widening as your smile pulls tightly at your cheeks.

“Yep! Why wouldn’t it be?”

He hates it.

How can you pretend to sound happy in front of him, of all people, too?

He turns away, eyes focusing back on the road. Your hand remains clasped in his, still unmoving; Megumi doesn’t know you like this—you’ve only ever squeezed back just as tightly, if not more, holding onto him all the way home.

The furrow between his brows deepens as his finger taps lightly on the wheel. Restless.

He allows the silence to stretch on.

A few more minutes find him driving past missed turns and wrong roundabouts, the scenery around you transforming into empty fields of tall grass dimly lit by lampposts. The lights fade in and out on repeat, casting itself as hazy, muddled hues upon your face.

Megumi glances from time-to-time, catching your reflection on the window of his passenger seat.

The expression on your face remains tight, pulled together in an effort to keep it together. And Megumi isn’t typically one to pry, nor is he the type to outright intervene with what others are going through—

But, he just wants you to tell him what’s wrong.

The feeling scratches at him, a quiet torture as it turns him impatient. He can only grind his teeth.

Your songs continue to play as he drives down empty roads, each one turning sadder than the last. And he wonders for a moment when it’ll end; if listening to these songs for long enough will make you feel any better—enough at least, for you to begin to open up.

In the midst of his rumination, you move, angling yourself away from him ever so slightly as you reach up to run your fingers through your hair, microfleece sleeve brushing against your cheeks lightly.

You don’t think he sees you, he’s sure, but he spots you on your reflection—

The window of his passenger seat is pitch black, already heavily tinted on its own, but exacerbated more by the darkness of the evening outside. It lends itself as the perfect blank slate to return any image that light casts upon it. Tonight, its subject happens to be you.

—with tears streaming down your face.

And it makes his chest ache, heart sinking straight to his stomach.

The breath you take is heartbreakingly still, a staggered inhale that is so careful and so considerate of the fact that you don’t want him to hear it hitch. Your lips are trembling, bitten down to keep in any sob that might spill out.

Megumi hates this the most, he’s decided.

He clenches his jaw.

Just a few meters ahead is a clearing lit up by another lamppost. The road is vacant enough for him to pull the car over to the side, still leaving room for other cars to pass by.

So he decides.

Pushing the hazard button and signaling to turn, Megumi slows the car down to a stop. You wipe at your face quickly when you notice, trying discreetly to fix yourself up before facing him.

“Did something happen?”

Your sniffle slips.

He doesn’t say anything, shifting the gear into park as he leans back on his seat. The leather squeaks under his movement, each noise amplified now that the car is completely still.

Megumi takes a deep breath.

“Nothing happened,” he starts, considering his next actions very carefully as he turns to face you.

His fingers reach up slowly, gently wiping at the tips of your eyelashes; your tears glisten at its tips.

Something in your expression shifts, the front you put up gradually turning into guilt.

(He knows; he’s noticed you this entire night.)

Time stops for Megumi in moments you never know: when you laugh, and your cheeks lift life to your eyes; when you hold him, by hand or by heart—he can’t tell the difference sometimes; when you tell him you love him, whether whispered against his collarbone or spoken through your lips locked in his.

You look pretty in all of them, you always do; even now, drowning in the fabric of his clothes with strands of your hair kissing your nose.

It’s enough to already make his chest hurt.

But then your tears begin to spill over, rushing down in streams over your cheeks, and he can’t put a name to this feeling—this immense pressure that sinks down to his stomach, twisting and aching. It’s worse than what he felt moments ago.

His thumbs press themselves to the dampness under your eyes, wiping away where he can as he cradles the rest of your face.

Megumi is the last person anyone would ever call to handle tears, but his body moves on its own when it leans towards you. It feels natural, right, when his lips rest softly against your forehead, fingers slotting themselves around your ears.

Your hands hold onto his wrists firmly, as if grounding yourself.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

He adjusts himself, quickly releasing his seatbelt to lean over the center console. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and—

(It’s hard, you want to tell him. Nothing ever seems enough sometimes.)

You tuck your face in the crook of his neck, your arms hooking themselves around his back and onto his shoulders.

“Did I–” he starts, unsure, as he brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head, “Is it it me?”

You shake your head.

(Of course, it isn’t. How can it be?)

“I don’t know what to do, Megumi,” you mumble, choked up as you inch away from him to rub at your eyes.

He waits for you to continue.

“We just graduated,” your fingers grip at your pants, “I should be happy, and I am, but,” you hiccup, “everyone has all these plans and big dreams and,” a deep breath, “I don’t even know what I want to do.”

(Your tears soak through your speech, punctuating them in drenched uncertainty.

Everything throbs, a heavy thumping beating in your head. The only thing that cuts through is the familiar ‘click’ of the door unlocking, Megumi’s hand on the handle as you turn towards him curiously.)

“Let’s step outside,” he directs, his door already half-open.

When you move to follow suit, he turns off the engine before stepping outside.

The crisp air of spring is sharper in the evening, littering goosebumps down the sides of his arms. A breeze picks up and brushes against his ears, but being near you, in any capacity, has always been enough to make his insides feel warm.

He circles around the front of the car to get to your side, pausing a few steps in front of you, as if asking for permission.

You take a step and then another, tears welling up as you inch closer for a hug.

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice small as you slack in his hold. He tucks you under his chin, hand cradling the back of your head again. “I always thought I’d figure it out eventually,” you continue, “but we’re here and I haven’t, and…”

Your grip on him tightens.

“Did anyone trigger this earlier?” he asks softly, his finger rubbing against the nape of your neck.

(That’s the problem, though—there isn’t anyone in particular. You know Megumi is asking so he can steer you clear of any future interactions with said person, but that’s not the case; it’s all you and the things you’ve overheard. All you and the things you see on your social media feed—an insecurity that drowns out anything else around you.

People often mean well when they ask what you’re up to, but your response always leaves a bitter, acrid aftertaste when you feel like you can never give them an honest answer.)

You shake your head, digging your face deeper into his neck. Your lips tickle his skin when you speak, “Just overheard stuff.”

Megumi sighs, holding you closer.

He blinks once, taking in the clear open fields and the endless road ahead. Up above, stars splatter white against the sky, and if he listens closely, he’ll hear the faintest hiss of the springtime breeze.

“It’s all just… noise,” he mumbles, lips pressing on the crown of your head. “You always tell me…” in the depths of his mind he fishes for a memory as proof, “everything else is just noise when you have me and good music with you.”

He feels shy recounting it word-by-word, heat rising to his cheeks; but Megumi has never been good at comfort, and this is his honest attempt at that.

You chuckle sadly, a little watery as you reply, “It’ll just be me and the music when you leave though.”

And even though this is your honest attempt at taking the situation lightly, the statement hits him square in the chest with its gravity.

He hums and chooses to linger with you in the quiet, the occasional wisps of wind whizzing in the background.

There’s not a lot Megumi can say that’ll make any of his statements valid, because all his plans have been laid out since his third year in uni: work his way through his course (which he did, in flying colors, actually), bag an internship (which he also did, for an extended contract too), and eventually land a job offer (which he also just did, a few days ago for a company in Kyoto).

But, there is one thing he knows he can say with utmost certainty:

“We’ll figure it out together.”

Your head whips up quickly, brows furrowing as you give him a look.

(If it’s what you think he’s implying, you won’t allow it. He has to—)

“...’ll still go. You’ll kill me if I don’t.” he huffs, leaning back to get a better look at you.

You look confused.

(Megumi staying behind in Tokyo isn’t even an option for you; not when he has an attractive offer waiting for him in Kyoto, and most especially not when the only reason he’d be staying is because of you.

You’d been the one who encouraged him to apply and you promised yourself that you’d continue to support him all the way through. The fact that he’s leaving is sad, but you’ll never forgive yourself if you end up being the reason he’s held back from something so good.)

“I’ll visit,” he tucks your hair behind your ear, “or you can stay with me whenever you want while we figure something out for you.”

“You can lean on me.”

(His eyes meet yours sincerely, deep blue speckled with street-lit hues. It’s honest, and he only means to reassure you, but something inside you is saying—)

“You’re not… you’re not a failure, or a disappointment, or whatever, just because you’re having a hard time figuring it out by yourself.” he continues to speak, finding the right words as his hands fall down to press on your waist. “It’s why I’m here.”

(—you should still feel bad. Your life is your responsibility, and Megumi shouldn’t be the one holding onto all the pieces when you’re struggling to get it together. And yet—)

When you open your mouth to rebut, Megumi, somehow, already knows what you’re about to say.

“It’s not baggage, and even if you insist it is,” he pauses, as if working a way to verbalize how he feels. His eyes hold yours in this moment, tears welling up along your lash line; there is a weight to what he’s about to reveal.

He takes a breath, swallowing.

“I want to take it on with you.”

Your tears fall and Megumi catches them, his thumbs gently pressing against your cheeks.

(There are a lot more thoughts racing through your mind, but for now you focus on the peace he offers you. Megumi is rarely verbal with his feelings, so hearing him be so open like this means more to you than anything.)

“Okay,” you rest your forehead against his collarbone.

Megumi pulls you closer as you both stand by his car, his arms a steady stronghold that grounds you. He gives you a few more moments of quiet until he feels ready to ask, “Are you ready to head home?”

You lift your face from his chest, eyes puffed up and a little dry. Your hand searches for his, interlacing your fingers together when you find it resting against the small of your back.

“Can we drive for a little bit longer?”

He nods and his lips curl up into a smile, small and knowing as he opens the car door.

But before you go back in, his hands take hold of yours, rubbing them gently to heat them from the cold. He brings your fingertips up to his lips, the display of affection rendering him pink, still (to you, the look on his face never gets old); he kisses them lightly before he lets go, walking to his side of the car so he can stay on this drive for as long as you’d like, until you’re ready to go home.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! thank you so much for reading 🥺 writing this was deeply personal, and writing megs will always be one of my favourite things 🥺

thank you notes: @pastelle-rabbit for thinking about drive megs with me and sending me songs! 🥺 + @ceroseis @mieiri for everything always 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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luvlucia · 3 months

Text

beautiful - pjs

summary: pregnancy and hormones has you feeling insecure and babydaddy!jay wants to assure you he finds you beautiful || warnings: dom!jay x sub!reader, reader is pregnant, reader is insecure, unprotected sex, missionary, jay comes inside || genre: smut, fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 750 || a/n: see the request here!

You looked in the mirror at my swollen belly, your shirt lifted up your stomach as you looked at it. You were 5 almost 6 months pregnant and your stomach was bigger than before. You turned to the side and grimaced a little. You felt like you looked bad and nearly felt like crying. It was probably mostly due to your hormones, though.

You could see your bedroom door slowly opening through the mirror as you watched your husband enter the room, instantly noticing you looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Hey, darling." Jay softly said as he came behind you and hugged you, his hands resting on your bare stomach.

"Do I look bad?" You asked, turning your head to look back and up at him.

"What are you talking about, honey?" Jay asked, eyebrows furrowed. a little. "You look stunning. You always do, always will." He reassured you.

"You don't know that." You giggled.

"Yeah, I do. I know I'll always find you gorgeous." Jay said, rubbing your swollen belly as he leaned down and pecked your lips.

When Jay pulled away, he rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked at you in the mirror. He couldn't help but feel himself getting hard.

You could feel him hard against your behind almost immediately. You couldn't help but smile, turning to face him, "Jay..." You giggled.

"Hm?" He responded, looking down at you as he tried to play it cool. You guys had sex since you found out you were pregnant but not as much as before, especially as time progressed, since Jay had been really paranoid about hurting you or the baby somehow by having sex.

"Are you hard right now?" You smiled.

"Yeah.." Jay admitted.

"Why?" You laughed.

"I can't help it with how beautiful you look, darling." Jay said as he put his hand on your cheek, caressing it softly.

You didn't necessarily agree with him but you didn't feel like arguing with him about that right now. "I can help you." You said, pushing your disagreement with his statement away for now.

"I don't know... I don't want to hurt-" Jay starts but you cut him off.

You put your hands on his chest, "You're not going to hurt me or the baby. I promise."

Jay thinks for a few moments, "Alright." He said. He took your hand and led you to your bed which was only a few feet away.

He put a pillow down more in the center of the bed and slowly laid you down on it so that it was under your lower back. He then pushed your shirt up again so he could see your stomach as he leaned down and kissed it a few times before he pulled your bottoms off, leaving you bare down there.

Jay took his bottoms off as well, his hardened cock springing up. You giggled as you lay down, watching him get on top of you as he leaned down and kissed you.

When he pulled away, he said, "You're the most beautiful girl in the world to me. I don't want you thinking otherwise." He didn't give you a chance to respond as he took his hardened cock in his hand and slid it up and down against your folds, urging you to grow a bit wetter before slowly pushing himself inside.

He rubbed your tummy as he let you adjust before he slowly started to move his hips. He leaned down to kiss your neck as he slowly fucked into you.

"So sexy." Jay praised you through groans as he continued to make love to you.

He made sure to be careful of you, your stomach, and the baby as he continued to slowly thrust into you. It didn't take long for either of you to come undone though as it'd been a little bit since you'd done anything like this.

Jay held you close after you'd both finished, making sure you were okay. "I didn't hurt you, right?"

"No, Jay. You don't have to be so worried about that." You reassured him, actually finding it really sweet how worried he always was about that, especially after you'd gotten pregnant.

"I can't help it, love." Jay softly said. There were then a few moments of comfortable silence as he just held you close. "You're beautiful and I love you so much. You look so beautiful pregnant. You don't need to be worried about that." Jay promised and he truly meant and felt that.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

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covetyou · 4 months

Text

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics #big bawl jawl #never forget the balls #fic: dress up joel

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tomscumdump · 3 months

Text

NEEDY

-18+

“STAR OVER here baby!!” I heard the loud cheers and applause, for me. my eyes fluttered open to the big crowd and money scattered along the stage floor, in my skimpy slutty lingerie outfit and stilettos. but, I felt a familiar pair of eyes on me tonight.

I did my bows and blew kisses to the sweaty middle aged men.. I walked off stage and to the bar my other co-workers and friends were serving at. I greeted them and saw him.

my favorite boy.

he had been staring, for quite a while. I noticed him looking me up and down and smirking. I grinned his way and walked over, I noticed he was alone this time.. no bill, georg, or gustav. I had a feeling I already knew what he wanted tonight.

“hey baby.” he said in a low voice, standing up and adjusting those baggy pants. he walked up to me and looked down, snaking his hands around my waist. I swatted them away and pushed him off. “nuh uh, you know the drill tom. no money no touching..” I said teasing, I knew how much he hated not being able to touch me.

It was a bit more than usual today. he groaned and rolled his eyes. “y/n please, please baby..” I sighed, I couldn’t resist him. besides, there’s nothing more I love then a submissive little boy toy.

I looked around for my manager anywhere. I looked back at him and smirked, I grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd and to a room. I heard his sweet little giggles as we entered, his arms flung to my waist, but I stopped him.

I nodded my head no and walked over to the bed. “c’mere.” I patted on the bed for him to get on, he walked over and sat down next to me. “y/n I just r—“ I quickly cut him off by smashing my lips onto his, his sweet soft lips. I could kiss them for hours and hours on end. he spent no time getting into the rhythm of the kiss, he cupped my cheeks with his hands and brought me closer, I moved over and onto his lap straddling him. he whined at the sudden movement, I grinding my hips digging into him. the sweet noises he made only aroused me more.

“f-fuck please..” he moaned softly, wrapping his arms around my waist as he dug his head into my neck attempting to hide his whimpers and whines. but if anything, I liked them. “your cute. you know that right?” i say in a seductive tone, i grab his face and caress his cheeks softly. he gives a soft smile and I give one back, I wanted to make him feel loved before I fuck him so hard he cry’s.

I sit up slightly, I glance at him as he just stares at me like I’m an angel. I slide the skimpy ripped top I was wearing, just leaving me in a hot pink laced bra. I slid my tiny skirt off as well, my panties matching my bra. he reached to squeeze my ass. but my hand slapped his face hard, grasping his jaw bringing it close to my face.

“didn’t you hear me the first time, slut? no fuckin touching.” he whimpered quietly and nodded his head with a weak smirk on his face. “m-mama please—“ he said in a desperate tone. I giggled at his need for me. “you’re needy today..”

I said licking my lips slightly, he stared into my intoxicating eyes. I could tell he wanted this, the bulge begging to be freed from his pants and the way he looked all over my body. I tugged at his shirt and made a little whiny face. “so am I the only one getting undressed or what.” he didn’t even say anything, he slid his shirt off and I worked at his belt, throwing it across the room and moving his pants down low enough just for that bulge to peek out.

I saw the little damp spot from the pre-cum. “all worked up just for me..” I said running my hand down his abs and down to his boxes, tugging at the waist band. “mama, touch me please…” he screwed his eyes shut biting his lip. I placed the palm of my hand, rubbing his erection. his mouth was hung open and small moans and squeaks of excitement and pleasure escaped his mouth.

I tugged down his boxers all the way, his dick springing out hitting his lower abdomen. he whined begging for some kind of touch from me. I grazed my hand gently up his dick staring in awe. “y/n please ~mhh~ I need you..” I grabbed the base of his cock, stroking up and down at an aching slow pace. he threw his head back, grunting and whining.

I slapped his face again, tugging at his hair. “if you make a fucking sound, I’m leaving whore.” he knawed at his bottom lip, smirking slightly obviously getting aroused. “wipe that stupid smirk off your face.” I said sternly with my jaw clenched. I remove my hand from his cock and he shuts his eyes in dissatisfaction. he looks back at me with pleading eyes.

“tell me what you want, use your fucking words.” I say with arms crossed, he leans back a little trying to find the words to say. “j-just touch me please.. I want to feel your hands all over me, mama..” I grin at his sweet little words, I tilt my head teasing. “mhm, where baby.. where do you want me?” I say in a sweet tone, caressing his arm slowly.

“.. m-my dick…”

I lean forward to kiss his cheek where I head previously slapped him, working my way down to his neck I whispered. “you sure?” I said smirking licking and sucking his neck, leaving my marks all over. “y-yes mama, pleasee..” I grinned and kissed down to his collarbone, chest, stomach, then his v line. he whined and moaned with every little kiss I gave. I grabbed the base of his cock and kitty licked the tip, pre-cum oozing out as his dick twitched. he grasped the sheets and bit his lip.

I licked up and down his dick repeatedly, causing him to mumble curse words under his breath. I spat on the tip of his cock, slowly moving my mouth lower and lower until I reached the base of his cock. i gagged here and there, but I managed.

“o-oh my ~ngh~ y/n..” he laughed breathlessly, he knew no other little slut he fucked would ever fuck him as good as I did. I picked up my pace a little, feeling his dick twitch in my mouth as I moaned and grunted against his cock sending little vibrations which he loved.

I was beginning to not be able to take it either, I was getting horny and feeling myself get wetter and wetter. “f-fuck I’m gonna—“ I grunted and pulled my mouth off his dick, pushing him down onto the bed and climbing on top of him. I was begining to slide my panties off, but he whined and made a comment. “shit I was gonna cum!!—“ I scoff and pull up my panties again, he made a shocked face and began to protest. “w-wait!” I grunted and sat my body down on his lap and he laid under me. “your not getting shit after talking to me like that.” I stated blunty, he begged and begged for me to fuck him. it was flattering to know how badly he wanted my pussy. “please y/n! j-just fuck me!!” I sighed and rolled my eyes, thinking of ways to make this interesting and more enjoyable for me.

“fine. but, I have rules.” I said placing one hand on his chest for support, and using my free hand to slide of my panties slowly. he nodded obediently and grinned. “no touching, not a single peep from you, and you cum when I say so. you understand slut?” he replies almost immediately, desperate for me. “y-yes!! I’ll listen- please just fuck me already!!” he grunts, trying to thrust his hips up to feel me. I push his hips down and groan. “already broke one of the rules..” I look around the room and reach for his shirt, throwing his hands above his head and tying the shirt like a rope around his wrist. “no touching.” I say sternly with my jaw clenched.

I slide my panties off completely, throwing them across the room. aligning my entrance with his tip, slowly shoving the tip in. his chest rises up and down rapidly trying to avoid making noise. I stay there for a bit, then crash my hips down our skin slapping as his dick rams right into me. he throws his head back and uses his arms to hide his face with his eyes screwed shut. I moan out as I smile looking down, not an inch of space between my pussy and his cock. “fuckkkkk…” I drag out laughing slightly. I grasp his shoulders for support as I bounce up and down on his dick. his mouth was hung open, but not a sound was coming out as small tears fell down his cheeks. “s-so good.. doing s’good just for me…” I smirk, throwing my head back due to the feeling of ecstasy.

I feel his tip hit that sweet spot in my perfectly, I moan out loudly aching for more, small beads of sweat forming on both of our faces, strands of my hair getting stuck to my face. my movements get sloppy as I feel that knot in my stomach forming. I grunt and ram his dick into me a few more times, tom lets out a few whines. I look at his lewd face, he opens his mouth to mumble a quiet sentence I knew he would say. “I-im gonna ~gahh~ cum!!” he says out of breath, his eyes hitting the back of his head. I clench my jaw and throw my head back, I was close. but not close enough, I grunt through my bounces. “fucking h-hold it whore..!” I screw my eyes shut picking up my pace, chasing my climax. he whines and shakes his head rapidly, pursing his lips. “m-mama I can’t pleasee!!” he squirmed and tugged under me, begging to cum. I let out a breathy laugh as our skin slapped, sounds of moans and lewd noises filling the room. his eyes fluttered open as he stared at me.

“fuckk!! cum baby, cum!!!” I moan out loudly, throwing myself down onto his body as we kissed roughly, our lips interlocking and our tounges clashing together. “shitshitshit oh my fucking god!!!” he whimpers as he thrust up into me once more lazily.

I felt my walls clench around toms dick as I came all over his hard veiny cock. his cum spurted into me, filling me up perfectly making my eyes roll back and my stomach twitch. he moaned out my name repeatedly, sounding like it was the only thing he could utter. “look baby, look.” I whine, slowly sliding his dick out of me. watching our mixed substances ooze out of me. he lets out a breathy laugh. I untie his arms and he immediately flings his arms around me to hug him. he kisses my cheek and brushes the hair out of my face and whispers in my ear

“can we have a round two..?”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✮

omg this was a longgggg one lmaaooo!!! also I got this idea in the car randomly and I thought it was amazing. also I fucking loveeee sub tom ngh!! also thx for the love on the last little fic i did yesterday eekkk!!! :3333

#bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz smut #fanfic #oneshot #smut #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fanfic #tokio hotel smut

457 notes · View notes

vividracing · 10 months

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New Post has been published on https://www.vividracing.com/blog/when-is-it-time-to-upgrade-your-stock-suspension/

When Is It Time To Upgrade Your Stock Suspension?

When Is It Time to Upgrade Your Car Suspension?

Does going over a speed bump make you feel like your car’s a bucking bronco? Or is every joyride a rough ride, no matter how smooth the road is? Then it’s likely time to take a look at your car’s suspension system and consider replacing the shocks and/or struts.

With time your car’s suspension system takes a huge toll especially when driving over potholes and rough patches. Any damage to the car’s suspension system can affect its handling, comfort, and performance. Upgrading your car’s suspension system can be the ideal solution to all these concerns. This blog post will feature everything that you need to know about upgrading your vehicle’s suspension system ranging from how they work, DIY Vs professional installation, and more. If you plan to upgrade your car’s suspension system and are unsure where to start, read on.

4 Signs Your Car’s Suspension Needs An Upgrade Are:

1. Bumpy, Rough Ride

When you hit a bump in the road, do you feel like you could lose control of the vehicle? Does your vehicle bounce more than once or twice? A rough, bumpy ride is one of the easiest symptoms to notice.

2. Leaking Fluid

Leaked fluid on the exterior of the shocks/struts is a sign that something is wrong. If the shock absorbers do not have enough hydraulic fluid, they won’t be able to absorb impacts as you drive.

If you’re not sure whether the liquid on your suspension is coming from the shocks or is an old fluid leak from somewhere else, wipe it off and then check it again after you’ve driven at least a few miles.

3. Uneven Treadwear

Cupping—scalloped, wavy dips on the tire tread—is a tell-tale sign of worn shocks and struts. It is caused by the tires not being held firmly to the road as you drive. Cupping shortens the usable life of your tires and diminishes handling and stopping power.

4. Instability When Braking or Turning

Does your car nosedive when you hit the brakes? Or sway on turns? This means that your shocks and struts aren’t able to handle the changes to the vehicle’s weight distribution. It may also take longer to stop when your suspension is bad, which is never a good thing.

If your car is older and the suspension has never been replaced, it’s worth considering an upgrade to improve safety and performance. Consulting with a professional mechanic can help you identify the right type of upgrade for your specific needs and budget.

Why Should I Upgrade My Suspension?

Suspension upgrades are a great way to improve the performance and safety of your car. Whether you’re looking to increase your car’s handling, reduce body roll, or just improve your car’s overall ride quality, upgrading your car’s suspension can do the trick. Making the decision to upgrade your car’s suspension can be a daunting one, but the benefits of an upgraded suspension system far outweigh the cost and effort. Here are just a few of the benefits to aftermarket suspension.

4 Benefits of Upgrading to Aftermarket Suspension Are:

1. Improved Handling

One of the most obvious benefits of upgrading your car’s suspension is improved handling. Upgrading to aftermarket suspension can improve your car’s ability to corner and turn, as well as lower the center of gravity and reduce body roll. This improved handling will also help you stay in control in adverse driving conditions or when driving at higher speeds.

2. Reduced Wear and Tear

Another benefit of upgrading your car’s suspension is reduced wear and tear. A good suspension system will help keep your car’s tires in contact with the road, which in turn reduces the wear and tear on your car’s tires and suspension components. This will help to extend the life of your car’s tires and suspension components and help to keep your car running smoother for longer.

3. Improved Safety

The improved handling and reduced wear and tear on your car’s tires and suspension components also help to improve your car’s overall safety. A good suspension system will help keep your car stable and in control of adverse driving conditions, which can help to prevent accidents and other dangerous incidents.

4. Increased Comfort

Upgrading your car’s suspension can also help to increase your comfort while driving. A good suspension system will help to absorb bumps and uneven roads, which can help to make your ride smoother and more enjoyable.

As you can see, there are many benefits to upgrading your car’s suspension in Evanston. From improved handling and reduced wear and tear, to improved safety and increased comfort, upgrading your car’s suspension can make a big difference in your car’s performance and safety. If you’re looking to upgrade your car’s suspension, be sure to contact a reputable suspension specialist in Evanston to ensure that you get the best results.

What Is The Difference Between Lowing Springs and Coilovers?

When it comes to suspension upgrades, it can be a little confusing knowing what is best for you and your car. Although budget will ultimately guide you towards a certain bracket of upgrade, there is a wide variety of different options available which could surprise you in terms of performance and value.

We break down all you need to know about suspension and give you the options that will take your driving experience to the next level.

What Are Lowering Springs?

In this case, the name says it all. Lowering springs replace your stock coil springs in the stock location. Pull one spring out, put the other spring in. This will lower your car a fixed distance. You’ll usually see a number tied to it, such as “2 inch lowering springs.” That means they’re designed to drop your car by 2 inches. No more, no less.

All this is to say, there is no adjustment or range. Your car sits where it sits. The height is determined entirely by the height and rate of springs that sit in fixed locations. You can’t move them up or down.

Click To Shop All Lowering Springs Right Here.

What Are Coilovers?

A coilover, AKA a coilover shock, is also what it sounds like. A coil spring slides over the shock and rests on a spring perch that is threaded onto the shock’s body. A cap then holds the spring in place. You can move that spring perch up or down the shock to adjust your ride height. The higher your spring, the higher your ride height and vice versa.

Coilovers are a great suspension mod that offers many benefits with few downsides. But lowering springs offer a less expensive alternative for people wanting to lower their car.

Coilovers excel in the stability they provide through tight corners, even at high speeds. They also offer more adjustable features than lowering springs.

Click To Shop All Coilovers Right Here.

With that being said, one my go-to brand for the sprigs are KW Suspension. They Offer the H.A.S (Height Adjustable Spring) kit for various cars. You can retain your factory equipped electrically adjustable dampers with a stepless and discreet lowering. Just like a KW coilover suspension, their coilover springs allow you to lower the suspension directly on your standard suspension.

Check to See If the KW H.A.S. Kit Is Available for Your Vehicle Here

If you would like to learn more about the differences between lowering springs and coilovers, we break down all you need to know about suspension and give you the options that will take your driving experience to the next level. Check out our article on Lowering Springs vs Coilovers: What’s Right for Your Car?

Should You Expect “Track Performance” From Upgrading Your Suspension?

Let’s face it, height-adjustable coilovers earn you street cred. Any serious car enthusiast has a set they’ve fine-tuned for a perfect ride height and adjusts the dampers to and from the grocery store. Or maybe…they’re overhyped, over-complicated, and unnecessary for most drivers. Which is it?

Lots of bells and whistles means lots of tuning potential if you know what you’re doing. But while adjustable coilovers do have some advantages, they’re not always an upgrade.

4 Things to Consider When Adjusting Aftermarket Suspension Are:

1. Height Adjustability

The big selling point for most people is the ability to set your own ride height. Height adjustability is useful for a racecar to lower the center of gravity, adjust the rake (nose up/down) of the car, and corner balance the chassis. Keep in mind that coilovers have limits and proper set up is crucial. The car may not handle better if you lower too far without looking at the full system.

If you want to lower your car significantly, either for looks or performance, coilovers are a better choice than lowering springs.

2. Suspension Travel at Low Ride Heights

Factory suspensions are limited in how much you can lower the car with springs while still being functional.

Coilover bodies are usually designed to sit lower with a different operating range than factory suspensions. Again, proper set up is crucial to ensure adequate bump and droop travel.

Some coilovers do not have much total suspension travel. This can be due to poor or lazy design, or sometimes they’re designed for stiff springs and a smooth racetrack. Be advised.

3. Standardized Coilover Springs

The ability to use easily available and standardized coilover springs opens up lots of tuning potential. Conventional fixed perch dampers require springs that are specially designed for your car. Options are limited.

Coilover springs come in a huge variety of spring rates and lengths. In some ways, a coilover provides a platform for a user to build on. Switching to stickier tires? Swap in stiffer springs. Adding serious aerodynamics? Ditto. However, it does take work to ensure they’ll fit and match your set up.

Functional lowering springs and coilovers can both perform well on track. A more focused track car will benefit from the adjustability of coilovers, but requires careful set up.

4. Damping

There’s actually no inherent damping advantage to coilovers. The dampers in some aftermarket coilovers are worse than your factory shocks. Fancy colors, catchy marketing, and the perfect ride height doesn’t do you much good if the dampers are garbage.

Also, any damper can be adjustable, but as we’ve talked about before, shock valving is more complicated than “soft” or “stiff.” Height-adjustable coilovers can have excellent valving. But when it’s bad, all the other features aren’t enough to make it a good system.

If you want to improve performance but keep things simple, quality fixed perch struts with a functional lowering spring make a lot of sense. A good example are the HKS Hypermax line. Their latest careation is the Hipermax R coilovers. We recently put them on our Nissan Z (RZ34), our project car. From the struts and the springs, everything about their coilovers screams perfection. HKS really invested time in R&D and created a master piece. Quality coilovers can be more expensive and require careful set up, but are a good choice for those that want to fine tune their suspension.

Check to See If the HKS Hipermax R Is Available for Your Vehicle Here

For those who is interested in our Youtube video, check out the video on the HKS Hipermax R coilovers!

youtube

If you’re looking at purchasing some lowering springs, coilovers, or even an air suspension system for your car, please do not hesitate to contact us. We can be reached by phone at 1.480.966.3040 or via email at [email protected].

#adjustable lowering springs #BMW #Coilover #Coilovers #Height Adjustable springs #honda #lowering spring #Lowering Springs #Nissan #sti

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jetii · 3 months

Text

Home is a Place on Coruscant

Pairing: Captain Rex x fem!Reader

Words: 10,705

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, discussion of grief/death, some description of blood/injuries, mutual pining, friends to lovers, smut, dirty talk, a little brat taming, oral sex (m and f receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism but not really

Summary: You've always been there for Rex, and when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night after a devastating mission, you do what you do best: take care of him.

A/N: The start of this fic has been sitting in my notes app since the TCW season finale many moons ago, and it wasn't until I read this drabble by @djarrex that I felt compelled to actually finish it. Rex is my fav and he deserves to be taken care of.

It's been about a decade since I've published a fic and about a decade since I've been active on tumblr, so I decided to start from scratch with this blog. Feedback is very much appreciated! I have a few more drafts in the works for Echo, Howzer, Kix, Tech, and Hunter that I'm planning to publish depending on the reception to this one.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Rain on Coruscant was rare. But when it came, it came in torrents, and it came all at once.

In the early hours of morning, while the planet was still sleeping, the sky opened up and let loose a downpour that threatened to flood the lower levels. It was so heavy, it even drowned out the traffic noise coming from the speeders that were still flying over the city at the early hour. The noise was soothing, almost like a lullaby, and the sound of it woke you.

You were used to this sound. You were used to it, because you were used to not being able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. It was one of the many things about living in the Jewel of the Core Worlds that was taking you longer than you would have liked to adjust to.

The traffic noise, the bustle, the crowds—it all made your homeworld of Rion seem very far away. You could never hear anything over the speeder traffic here, and you likely would've gone mad long ago if not for the trickling of the fountain you kept in the main room. It had been your mother's. You were glad it had come with you when you moved.

The rain was heavy enough that you could hear it inside the apartment, a pleasant hum against the transparisteel. You sat in the window seat, arms folded around your knees, watching the rain fall. The view from your window was not the best in the Galactic City, but it was still quite good, and at night it was beautiful, all the lights of the skyscrapers blurring together in the rain.

The rain would be good for the plants.

You had a garden, a modest one. Some of the plants were native to your world. A few were native to Coruscant. Most were from other worlds. They were your pride and joy. Caring for them had given you something to do when you were adjusting to your new life here. You watered and pruned and tended to them all, and in the spring you were rewarded for your efforts.

Rex had been baffled, at first, by the sight of you out in the courtyard behind the complex, on your knees in the dirt, digging and weeding. It was a little piece of nature on a planet that didn't have much, and Rex was amazed that someone could take so much joy in something so… natural. It was nothing like what he'd been raised to appreciate, which was a good vantage point, a well-maintained blaster, and a plan.

When he'd told you as much, you had invited him to kneel down beside you, and, hesitantly, he'd done so. You handed him a spade and pointed to a patch of soil.

"See that little green leaf poking up?" you asked, and Rex followed your gaze. "See it?"

"I see it."

"Plant the spade right under it. When you pull it up, the root will come with it."

"Like this?" Rex had pulled the spade up, and a plant had come with it. He examined it, then tossed it aside, into the compost.

"That's perfect. That's just how you're supposed to do it. See, you're a natural."

Rex smiled, pleased with the praise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, let's get the rest of these weeds."

You'd worked in the garden until the sun was setting. Your hands had been dirty, and you had been smiling, and Rex had thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He would probably never tell you as much. He'd been trying to think of ways to tell you, and nothing seemed good enough. There was nothing good enough for you. So instead he told you about the missions he went on. And you listened. You always listened.

You wondered if Rex had heard the rain start. You wondered if it was keeping him awake, too. You wanted him to sleep. He was always so tired, and the last thing you wanted was for him to be exhausted when he came home from his mission.

If he came home.

It was an irrational thought. The missions were dangerous, yes, but the 501st had some of the best soldiers in the galaxy. And Rex was a good captain. A good leader.

But there was always the possibility. The risk.

You were intimately acquainted with the feeling of waiting for someone, and the way it tore you apart. It was a risk, being this close to Rex and the other clones of the 501st. It was a risk, feeling the way you did.

It was a risk, but you did anyway.

You look out at the rain, and the speeders that still flew through it. You wonder how they could fly through the storm, and not be afraid.

You're just about to turn away from the window when a noise behind you makes you jump. There, underneath the sound of the rain battering against the transparisteel, the sound of a knock at your door. You almost don’t think it is real, that it's simply a part of the soundscape of the rainy morning, but it comes again, three short raps.

You slide out of bed, fumbling to grab the clothes you tossed on the floor the night before. You don't bother to put on pants, but pull a long shirt over your head and tiptoe to the door, peering through the peephole.

The rain is heavier now, and the clouds are dark, almost black. The white shape in the hall is familiar, though, and it makes your heart race. You open the door, filling the small entryway with the scent of fresh rainwater and humidity.

"Rex," you say. "What are you doing here?”

He’s stoic, still and silent under your gaze, but you can see the tremble in his hands at his sides. The downpour seems to have washed the majority of dirt and debris from his armor, but bits of red still run through the cracks. An hour ago, he was likely covered with whatever the substance was — Umbaran dust or something more sinister — but the rain did well enough to wash it off.

He must’ve walked here, you realize, eyes widening. Your bottom lip pulls to worry between your teeth as you notice the new dents and marks on him. Carbon scoring on his shoulder plate, a tear in his kama, and what seems to be a blaster hole in his chest plate.

"I… I don’t know," he says after a moment. His voice is quiet, rough through the modulation of his helmet. It's as if the words are being dragged up from his lungs.

"I shouldn’t have. I… I should have called. I just… I had to see you.”

The words hang between you, suspended like the raindrops in the air. You feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. You can't believe he's here. He's here, and he's alive. You'd known he would be, but to see him with your own eyes, to have him in front of you, fills you with an immense sense of relief.

But something is clearly wrong. He's not saying what's bothering him, and you're almost too afraid to ask.

“Rex, what happened?”

You reach for him, only to have your hand meet nothing but humid air as he pulls back.

“It’s late, sorry for disturbing you—“

He turns to go, and this time you’re faster. Your hand encloses around his wrist and pulls him to a stop before he can take another step.

“Wait, Rex— please, just… stay. Just for a moment. Come in, you're getting soaked."

He lets out a slow breath and then, after a moment, he jerks a stiff nod. He allows you to drag him inside your apartment and, as the door slides shut behind him, he lifts his hands to the seal of his helmet. You watch him closely as he pulls it free and reveals the face beneath.

There are smudges of grime on his golden skin, and a deep furrow has formed between his eyebrows. He looks haunted, as if the shadows from the battlefield have followed him home. You want to smooth that line out with your thumb, but you aren’t sure he will let you.

You don't ask if you can touch him, but he notices the way your fingers twitch, and he knows you well enough to know that you're thinking about it.

"It's fine," he murmurs. He's never said no to you. "Go ahead."

He doesn't say please, and that hurts a little, but you're not surprised. Rex has been holding you at arm's length ever since he kissed you a few months back, and you know why. You just wish you knew how to help him.

So, you touch him. You brush your fingers across his cheek, wiping away the grime. You know that he doesn't need to be cleaned, but the motions are soothing. Your gentle touch is a balm, and you can feel his tension ease ever so slightly as you brush your fingers over his face.

"What happened?" you ask again, voice barely above a whisper.

"A lot." He lets out a slow breath and leans a little into your touch. He's exhausted, and he's relieved to see you, and the two warring emotions are pulling him in different directions. Rex opens his mouth to say more, but the words die on his tongue. He shakes his head, unable to continue, and closes his eyes.

"Come sit down."

You take him by the hand and lead him over to the couch. You sit first, and he follows suit, sitting a respectable distance from you. The distance doesn't seem right. When you'd met him, Rex had been so full of confidence, even when he'd been a little bit awkward, a little bit unsure. But the war had changed him. He was still the same man, still confident and brave and intelligent, but the weight of responsibility had settled on his shoulders, and the burden was crushing him.

You want to tell him it's going to be okay. You want to say it, but the words sound hollow in your mind.

You shift, moving closer, and Rex moves, too. The distance between you shrinks, and the tension eases. You don’t much care that he’s wearing armor, or that the rainwater is leaving damp spots on the upholstery.

Rex reaches for you, and his hands tremble. His gloves are damp, and his armor is cold, and the chill sends a shiver up your spine when he touches your knee. His eyes are distant, and he doesn't quite meet yours, and his expression is so, so sad.

“Hardcase is gone,” he closes his eyes to avoid seeing the look on your face. You can’t help but gasp at the admission, and a soft sob slips past your lips.

You had met Hardcase once, very briefly. He had been charming and charismatic and kind, if a little wild, and you had liked him immediately. He had flirted with you, and Rex had rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile behind his cup. Hardcase had been fun, and loud, and a little bit reckless.

You had not known him as well as some of the others on his squad, but the pain in Rex's eyes, the grief in his voice, was enough to make it hurt.

"Oh, Rex, I'm so sorry," you murmur.

Rex nods, and his jaw tightens. You can tell that he's trying not to cry, and you can't imagine how hard it must be, to carry such a heavy weight all by himself.

When he speaks again, your blood runs cold.

“We were betrayed. One of our own— one of the Jedi, he—" his breath hitches. “Oz, Ringo — Dozens of them, my brothers. They’re all gone.

"Betrayed?"

You feel like the bottom has dropped out from beneath you.

You knew the war was dangerous, and that Rex's job was dangerous, but the idea that it could go wrong in such a fundamental way?

The Jedi had always seemed so wise, and so strong, and so just. It had always seemed like there was nothing they couldn't do. To know that one of them could betray their men — could betray the Republic, and the innocent people of the galaxy — was too terrible to contemplate.

Your hand finds his cheek again, and this time, his eyes find yours.

They're shining, but his tears don't fall. He's a soldier, and he knows better than to show weakness, even here. You wish he would let himself break. You wish he would let you hold him, and let his tears fall, and let you help him put the pieces back together.

"Rex," you murmur, "I'm so, so sorry."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, and your thumb wipes away some of the wetness that has gathered there.

He pulls back for a moment, and you think he’s pulling away completely before he leans closer. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight to him as he buries his head in your shoulder. You immediately return the embrace, one arm over his shoulders while your other hand lifts to hold the back of his head.

You’re not sure how long they stay like that or how many tears are shed between you. After some time, he begins to speak, and you listen while running a soothing hand over his head, trying desperately to keep from sobbing outright as he tells you about the traitorous Jedi Pong Krell.

It’s by far the greatest atrocity you’ve ever heard, and to know that Rex has to put his helmet back on and get back to work in a matter of days makes you sick to your stomach.

He doesn’t deserve this, you think as you pull him into another embrace. None of them do.

Something about the motion causes him to wince, and you immediately release him to grab hold of both his shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

His hesitation is answer enough, and you can feel a wave of anger rise in your chest. How could they let him come back, in the state that he's in? How could they ask this of him, after all he's already done?

“I’m fine, cyare. Armor took most of it.”

If it weren’t for the way he avoided your gaze, you’d believe him, but instead you just feel yourself grow more upset. “What did Kix say?”

“Uh, he didn’t—“

“Rex, you were shot, and you didn’t think to get medical attention?”

His expression darkens, and you can see him withdrawing again. His shoulders pull back, and he pulls his chin up, and the distance between you grows again.

“I didn’t think much of anything, to be honest.” He mutters. It breaks your heart, but it also throws more coals on the anger burning inside of you. Not anger at him, you know, even though you can’t help but let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll be alright.”

“Like hell you will be,” you bite out before taking a step back to help him stand. “C’mon. Let’s get you patched up.”

You're angry. You're so, so angry. How could he let himself get hurt? How could he come here and not tell you about it? How could they send him home, to you, after all he's been through, knowing that he was injured?

But there's nothing you can do about any of that now, and being angry at him isn't going to help.

“You don’t have to—“ He protests through words only, allowing you to drag him through the living room and into the refresher.

“Yes, I do.” You shut him down quickly as you flick the light on and turn to rummage underneath your sink.

He’s still standing in the center of the room when you stand back up to full height, looking uncomfortable at your fussing. It’s not the first time you’ve had to patch him up, but so far it’s just been cuts and bruises. It’s unknown territory for you both, and he holds himself like he’s waiting for you to give up and shoo him out.

Your hands find his shoulders, and you gently push him down to sit at the edge of your bathtub. He’s pliant in your hold, but he meets your eyes with the worried pinch between his brows he gets whenever he thinks he’s upset you.

“Rex, let me take care of you,” you plead softly, and the furrow deepens.

He can hear the way your voice breaks. He can see the worry in your eyes. You're scared, and he hates that he's done that to you.

He should have known better. He should have taken a moment, to collect himself, before coming to see you. He shouldn't have let his emotions overwhelm him. He should have kept it together.

You were always there for him, and you listened, and he could tell you anything. He should have told you that he was okay. That would have been the responsible thing to do.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

And now, he can't seem to do the one thing you ask him.

But, after a moment, Rex relaxes. He’s never been able to say no to you before, and it is no different now. His shoulders slump a little, and the furrow smoothes, and you can't help but think that his face looks much nicer like this. You wish he wouldn't be so hard on himself.

"Okay," he murmurs.

It's all the encouragement you need. You lift his hand, cradling it gently, and begin to remove his gloves and armor piece by piece. You set the pieces aside, careful to keep them in order, and you know he appreciates that. It's a little thing, but it helps. You make a note to clean it for him before he leaves, the sight of the red smeared across its surface churning your stomach.

It's quiet between the two of you. The only sounds in the room are the rain and the gentle clink of plastoid against the floor as the last piece is removed.

You're grateful for the silence, though. You're not sure what you would say, and you know that he needs this, needs the moment to breathe.

"Where does it hurt?" You ask.

He hesitates. There's a lot of pain, all over his body. But you can't do anything about the pain that aches in his bones, or the ache in his chest. He doesn't know how to tell you about that.

"Chest," he finally admits. "Took a hit in the vest. Knocked the wind outta me."

That was an understatement, but you didn't need to know that. He could barely breathe, when it had happened, but the rest of his brothers needed him, and he didn't have the time to worry about his own injuries.

"Can you get it off?" You ask.

He gives a slight nod and reaches his arm up to grab the neck of his blacks, slowly pulling it overhead to reveal the skin underneath. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, and you feel a flush rising up your neck and onto your cheeks.

The only light in the room is the faint glow from the bulb above the mirror. It casts shadows across the planes of his muscles, and you can't help but drink in the sight of him. His chest is strong and broad, and a line of hair disappears beneath the waistband of his blacks.

There's a blaster mark on his sternum, just above his right pec, not far off from the scar in the center of his chest he’d earned on Salucemi. It’s weeping blood slowly, trickling down the curve of his muscle, and you can see the red, puffy skin surrounding the injury.

It isn't terrible. A few inches to the left, and it could have been fatal. A few inches to the right, and the armor could have deflected the bolt entirely.

Still, you know that he's in pain, and the knowledge is enough to make the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again. You force yourself to swallow them back and, instead, you reach for a damp cloth to wipe the wound clean.

He hisses at the contact, and you can see him grit his teeth against the pain. His hand moves to grasp the edge of the tub, and you can't help but feel guilty. You want to tell him to relax, to try and ease his suffering, but you know he wouldn't listen. He never listens, not when it comes to his own wellbeing.

"Sorry," you murmur, but the cloth keeps moving. You have to clean the wound, so you can treat it properly.

“Where’d you learn this, anyways?"

"What, first aid?" You're surprised by the question.

"Mhm."

“My dad was a swoop racer, believe it or not,” you say softly. You don't talk about him very often. It still hurts. But this feels like the right moment.

Rex tilts his head curiously, watching your face. You can see his expression soften, and you know he can tell how difficult it is for you to speak about this.

"Really?"

You nod, your eyes focused on your work. “My mom was always patching him up, and I’d sit on the counter and help out where I could. When she passed, I took over.”

“Isn’t swoop racing illegal?”

“Hm, not on Rion, it’s not.” You finish cleaning the wound and move to grab the bacta bandages. “Maybe if it was, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed."

You're not sure what possessed you to be so blunt, but the words are out, and there's no taking them back. Rex blinks, shocked by your honesty. You feel embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

"Sorry," you murmur, keeping your eyes low. "That was… I shouldn't have said that."

Rex says nothing. He knows better than to try and coddle you, and besides, you've always been the one doing the comforting, not the other way around. But it doesn’t sit well with him to see you like this, and before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches out to you.

His hand lifts, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can't help but lean into his touch. He's so warm, and his hand is calloused and gentle. He cups the back of your head, guiding you forward, and his lips press against your forehead.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as the cloth slips from your fingers, and you cling to him. You feel terrible, for complaining about the loss of your father when Rex has lost so much.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, and you're not sure if he means for asking or for Hardcase or for the war or for everything, and you can't bring yourself to ask.

“It’s alright,” you whisper back. He lets you pull away from him to busy yourself with sorting bacta patches, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"Is that why you came to Coruscant?” He asks softly, his tone careful and gentle.

Part of you wants to lie. You're tired, and you're hurting, and you're not sure you have the strength to have this conversation right now.

But the truth is already out, and if this will help him, you'll tell him anything.

You nod.

“He was actually really good at it,” you chuckle, and Rex can hear the bitterness in your voice. “But eventually he pissed off some powerful people who were placing the wrong bets. One day he left for a big race, and the next morning I found a box with his helmet at our doorstep. Or what was left of it.”

Rex sucks in a breath, and you can see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He knew about the helmet, he’s seen it on the shelf in your living room. But he hadn't known the full story.

You look back up at him. There are tears in your eyes, but they don't fall. You're smiling, and your eyes are sad, and his heart breaks.

“I tried to get the police involved, the racing league, anyone I could get to listen to me, but no one would investigate. I was so angry. Then I started getting threats. I couldn’t…” You shake your head, trying to rid the memories. "I couldn’t stay. So I moved here. And then the war started, and then I met you.”

It seems like a lifetime ago. The days before Rex felt like someone else's life, and you wonder how you ever managed without him. You'd been so lost, and so alone, and you'd felt like the universe was crashing down on you, and he'd pulled you out from underneath the rubble just by being there.

"I'm so sorry, cyar'ika," Rex murmurs.

You reach forward and gently lay a hand on his chest, pressing the bacta patch into place. His skin is soft beneath your touch, and you can't help but think, not for the first time, about how beautiful he is.

"I'm glad that you're here," you tell him softly. "That you made it back, I mean. I'm glad you came home."

Home. Rex swallows thickly.

He's never had a home before, not really. Home had been a word for people with families and futures. Home had been a word for normal, everyday people, not clones.

Home had always seemed like such a far away concept, something he'd never get to experience.

But, suddenly, the idea isn't quite so foreign. Home. With you.

"I'm glad I came back too," he finally murmurs, and his hand lifts to hold yours.

You're quiet, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, and his gaze finds yours.

There's something different between the two of you, something charged and heavy. You know you need to pull away. He needs to rest. You're both exhausted.

But you can't. You can't stop looking at him. He's beautiful, and he's kind, and he's the bravest person you've ever known. You've never loved anyone the way that you love him.

"Cyare," he whispers, and the word makes your heart stutter, even if you don’t know what it means.

He's not sure what comes over him. Maybe it's the way you're looking at him. Maybe it's the fact that, after the past couple of weeks, he thought he'd never see you again. Maybe it's that, for once, you're letting him take care of you. Maybe it's because you're so beautiful and you're so close and he loves you, he's so in love with you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can stand to go without saying something.

Whatever it is, he knows he needs to say something, and he knows he needs to do it now.

"I'm so glad I met you," he whispers, and it's the best he can do, but he hopes it's enough.

He reaches forward, and his hand finds the curve of your cheek, and the touch is enough to send a spark through your skin. You can feel the heat building inside of you, the desire pooling in your core, and the air in the room is electric.

"Me too," you manage.

His lips find yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and your arms wrap around his shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. You're pulling each other closer, as close as you can possibly get, and it's not close enough.

Rex moans softly against your lips, and you can't help the way your hips twitch, or the way you whimper into his mouth. You're both desperate, and eager, and it's the sweetest relief.

He stands and turns, lifting you up and sitting you on the edge of the counter, and his body presses against yours. Your legs part, welcoming him, and his hips slot perfectly between them. His hands are on your thighs, gripping and pulling and massaging the flesh.

"Rex," you gasp, breaking away from his lips.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips against your throat, his tongue and teeth working the delicate skin. He sucks at your pulse point, and you whine. You know that there will be marks in the morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Rex," you whine again, and you're not sure why, not exactly, because all you want is for him to keep doing what he's doing, to let him claim you and mark you and make you his. But you're overwhelmed, and you need to catch your breath, and his name is the only word your brain can think.

His fingers tighten, and his lips lift from your skin. He’s watching you with dark eyes and swollen lips, chest heaving.

"I need…" he trails off, and he doesn't finish the sentence, but you understand.

He's holding himself back. He doesn't want to push you, doesn't want to assume, but you can feel the need rolling off of him.

He's desperate.

You are too.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper.

Rex sucks in a breath. There are a lot of things that he could say, but the only thing he can manage is your name, soft and needy, and you can hear the way his voice breaks.

The sound makes you ache.

Your hand finds his jaw, and your thumb runs along his bottom lip. He's looking at you with the most adoring eyes, and your heart feels like it's about to burst.

"Please," he breathes.

It's all the encouragement you need. Your lips find his, and his hands find your hips. He lifts you off of the counter and into his arms, and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. His fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, grabbing and holding and massaging the flesh. You're not sure how the two of you make it into the bedroom. All you can think about is Rex's lips, his teeth and tongue and hands, and the way he's carrying you like you weigh nothing, his hardness digging into your hip.

It's a miracle he doesn’t trip over the pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

His knees hit the mattress, and he leans down to lay you gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a tenderness to his actions, a sweetness in the way he handles you, that makes you shiver. His thumbs trace the lines of your hipbones underneath your shirt, and he smiles at the sound of your breath catching in your throat.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, and the words are enough to make you ache.

His hands are so gentle, his face so earnest. He's always been so careful with you, and it makes you feel like the most important thing in the world.

"Yeah," you whisper, your hand coming up to rest against the side of his face.

Rex's smile is so beautiful, and it's so full of joy, and you can't help but return it. He turns his head and presses a kiss into the center of your palm.

His lips move, tracing the lines on your palm. His teeth nip gently at the tips of your fingers, and he watches as your breath catches.

He wants to take his time, to learn every inch of you, to map out the places that make you moan and the ones that make you scream, and the ones that make you laugh. He wants to kiss the scars and worship the stretchmarks and the freckles, and the dimples in your skin, and the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, and the birthmark on your shoulder, and he wants to show you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how special, how loved.

He'll do it, eventually. But not tonight.

Tonight, he just needs you.

His fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt, drawing it up slowly, and he can't help the groan that falls from his lips at the sight of you. You're suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that you'd never put on pants when you answered the door, let alone a bra, and you're almost embarrassed.

But the way Rex is looking at you after your shirt is tossed aside makes your stomach flutter, and the words die on your tongue.

"Mesh'la," he breathes, his eyes wide.

He can't seem to decide where to look, where to touch first, so you grab his hands and guide them. They slide across the planes of your stomach and over your ribs, and his fingers ghost the underside of your breasts, and your head falls back onto the pillows.

"Rex," you beg. "Please."

The sound of your plea is enough to spur him into action. His lips find the side of your neck, and his hand cups your breast, thumb finding your nipple and swiping over it.

You gasp, your back arching and hips bucking into his, and Rex moans softly. His teeth graze the line of your pulse, and he moves lower, and he pulls a nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whimper, your nails scratching at the back of his neck.

You can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He likes having this effect on you.

The hand on your other breast is kneading the flesh, and his lips are sucking at your nipple, his tongue tracing patterns on the delicate skin. His fingers pinch and pull, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.

"So sensitive," he hums, and the vibrations from his words send a tingle down your spine.

"Only for you," you breathe.

The words make his hips stutter, and the hardness of his cock presses into the wetness of your core. You can feel the outline of him against you, the heat and the thickness, and your breath catches.

You roll your hips into his, and Rex releases a groan, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of your breast.

"Kriff," he hisses, and the sound sends a shock of pleasure through you. Suddenly, you remember your promise.

"Lay back," you whisper, and his head lifts.

"What?"

You push at his shoulders, mindful of his bandages as you urge him backwards, and Rex follows your command. You move quickly, kneeling between his legs and grabbing the waistband of his blacks. You can see the outline of his hardness straining against the fabric, and you can't help but lick your lips.

"Can I?"

Rex's chest is heaving, his eyes blown black, and you can tell he's trying to process your question.

"Cyar'ika," he breathes, and the endearment makes your heart flutter. "You don't have to."

"I know," you tell him, your hand moving slowly up and down his thigh. Your head tilts thoughtfully. "Can I be honest?"

"Always," he replies.

"I've wanted to for a while."

You can feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck, and your eyes dart away from his. You don't know why, it's not like you've been hiding your attraction, but something about telling him is making you nervous.

"You have?"

His voice is soft, and his hand finds the back of your head. His touch is so gentle, and the surprise and happiness in his tone makes you bold.

"Yeah," you murmur, looking back up at him.

He looks stunned, but there's a light in his eyes, a warmth that you can feel spreading inside you too. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug. "I didn't want to push."

It's his turn to blush. It's cute, the way his cheeks flush, and his eyes dart away. He almost looks embarrassed.

"Since we're being honest…" He starts.

"What?"

"Me too."

Your heart stutters, and a wide grin stretches across your face. The happiness building inside your chest is competing with the desire that courses through you at the knowledge that he's thought about this, about you, and the idea is almost too much. You're sure you must look like a fool smiling this much, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"You've thought about it?" You tease.

"Yeah," he breathes. "All the time."

"Tell me."

He groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, and you can see the way his cock twitches at your words. "I… Kriff, I've imagined it so many times. How good you'd look on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, or bent over, with my hands on your hips, or straddling me, riding me."

"What else?"

You've moved closer to him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, and you can feel the wetness between your thighs. You've never felt so desperate, so needy, and all you want is him, any part of him.

"I think about it all the time. What it would be like to have you in the barracks, in the 'fresher, in the hangar. You on your knees in my office. Fuck, everywhere. It's all I can think about sometimes."

You can feel the wetness growing between your thighs, and you can't stop the whine that falls from your lips. It's almost too much, hearing the things he's imagined, the ways he's wanted you, the times and places, and the need and desperation behind his words.

"Then will you let me?" You ask, and you hope the answer is yes, because you can't imagine stopping.

"Please," he breathes.

"What was that?"

Rex's grip on your hair tightens, his gaze locked on yours as he speaks again, his voice is low.

"Please, cyare."

That's all the encouragement you need. Your eyes don't leave his as your hands pull at the fabric, slowly revealing his length. He's bigger than you dared to imagine, and thicker, and the sight of him is enough to make your mouth water.

His eyes are wide, his pupils blown, and his mouth is hanging open slightly. The blush on his cheeks is spreading down his chest, and the muscles in his arms are tensed.

"So perfect," you hum, and you're not sure if you're talking to him or his cock.

You wrap your hand around him, and Rex's hips stutter. Your thumb swipes over the head, spreading the bead of precum, and his eyes fall shut.

"So sensitive," you tease.

"Cyare," he warns. There's an edge to his voice, and it makes you grin.

Your head dips down, and you press a kiss to the underside of his cock, and his hips jerk. You keep pressing kisses along his length, your fingers wrapping around the base. Rex is struggling to breathe. He's not even inside of you yet, and it already feels better than anything he's ever experienced before.

He opens his eyes to look down at you, and the sight of you on your knees in front of him is almost too much. He's dreamed about this moment, and fantasized, and he never, not in his wildest dreams, imagined that it would feel like this.

Your lips wrap around him, and Rex can't stop the way his hips thrust up. His cock brushes the back of your throat, and you gag, pulling back slightly with tears in your eyes.

"Sorry," he gasps, his cheeks flushing.

You shake your head as much as you can with his length in your mouth, and your eyes flash up to his.

You like this, he realizes with a start. You like being used, you like the feeling of him fucking into you, and the realization sends a shock of pleasure through him.

You bob your head slowly, and Rex watches, transfixed, as his cock disappears between your lips. Your tongue runs along the underside, and his eyes fall shut again.

"Maker," he moans.

Your hand is stroking what doesn't fit into your mouth, and your other is tracing the lines of his thighs, and his abs, and his V-lines. You can feel the muscles tensing and relaxing under your fingertips, and you can see the way his hips are straining, the effort he's making to keep still.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you hum softly in response. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling gently, and his other hand comes to rest on the back of your head.

"Fuck, mesh'la," he moans, and the praise makes you preen.

You pull back, until only the head is between your lips, and swirl your tongue around him. He tastes sweet and salty and just the right amount of bitter, and you can't get enough.

"So good," he gasps. "So perfect, so beautiful."

He's babbling now, the words falling from his lips without him thinking about them, and you can't stop the grin. You'd always wondered if he was a talker.

"So perfect, cyar'ika, taking me so well." His voice is wrecked, and his breath is coming in ragged pants. "Feel so good. I could fuck your mouth all night."

His words make you shiver. He could. He could do anything he wanted with you, and you'd let him.

You move your head down, taking him as far as you can, and Rex's eyes open to watch you. You hold his gaze as his cock slides along the back of your tongue and hits the back of your throat, and you suppress the urge to gag.

"So pretty," he hums, his voice strained. "Such a good girl."

Your pussy throbs at the words, and the moan you release vibrates his length.

"That's it," he gasps.

You can feel the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, but you keep moving, keep taking him, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"So good, mesh'la, so, so good."

He's repeating the words, and you're not sure if he knows he's saying them. Your jaw is starting to ache, your lips are sore, and there's drool dripping down your chin, but you can't stop the soft whimpers and moans.

The sounds are enough to drive him mad.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and his thumb runs along your bottom lip, stretched around him. The gesture is so tender and loving, it's almost too much.

"Look at you," he breathes. "Kriff, I've wanted this for so long. So beautiful. So perfect. My perfect girl. You take me so well."

You hum again, and his head falls back, the movement pushing his cock deeper. You gag around him, and his hips stutter, a litany of Mando'a spilling from his lips. You're not sure what he's saying, but the words are making your cunt clench, the pleasure building inside of you overwhelming.

"I'm close, mesh'la," he gasps. "If you want to stop, you'd better— ah, kriff!"

You've pulled back, and the suction of your lips is incredible. Rex's hips are stuttering, his hands are tugging on your hair, and the sounds falling from his lips are enough to make your core throb.

"Mesh'la, please, I can't—"

His words die in his throat as you reach between his legs and roll his balls in your hand. The action sends him hurtling over the edge, and his hips thrust up one last time, pushing his cock down your throat as he comes.

Your throat works to swallow every drop. It's so much, more than you were expecting, and you struggle not to choke. His grip on your hair is borderline painful, but you don't mind. You can feel his whole body trembling, his breathing labored and his chest heaving.

You release him with a wet pop, and he shudders. You press one last kiss to the underside of his softening length, and he twitches, his body still sensitive.

"You're gonna kill me" he breathes.

"Hopefully not." You wipe your mouth, thumb catching a stray drop of cum and sucking it into your mouth, and you watch as his eyes darken.

He pulls you to him, and you climb back into his lap, his lips on yours. The kiss is slow and lazy, his hands running up and down your back, his body still shuddering from the force of his orgasm.

"Mesh'la," he sighs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "So beautiful."

His fingers trail down the side of your neck and between your breasts. They ghost the skin of your stomach and dip underneath the hem of your panties, and you can't help the whimper that escapes.

"Still want me?" You ask.

"Always."

His lips are on your neck, and his fingers find the wetness between your thighs, and you gasp. The noise that falls from his lips is filthy.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he groans. "You're soaked."

"That's your fault," you manage.

His teeth graze your pulse, and his fingers brush against your clit, making your hips buck.

"Can't help it," you gasp.

You can't stop the cry of pleasure as his thumb presses down. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant, and you're not sure why. You've made it perfectly clear that you want this.

"Rex," you whimper. "Please."

He presses another kiss to your lips, and the hand not between your thighs wraps around your back, holding you steady. He teases your entrance, and your breath catches, and then his fingers are slipping inside.

"Ah, fuck," you hiss.

You're so wet, so slick, and his fingers slide in easily. Just two fingers already feel so thick, and you can feel your walls stretching around him. There's a dull ache, but it feels so good.

"Cyar'ika," he groans. "Fuck, so tight."

His fingers pump in and out slowly, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Faster," you gasp. "Please, Rex."

"Shh," he coos. "Patience, mesh'la."

"Please."

"Be a good girl and be patient for me."

You whine, the sound muffled by his shoulder. He's being cruel, teasing you like this. You've already had him once, and now he's drawing it out. "Rex, I need you."

He hums softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. His fingers are still pumping in and out, slowly, agonizingly, and you know he's doing it on purpose.

"I need you," you whimper.

"I'm here," he whispers.

"No, I— ah! I need you inside me."

You can feel his breath catch, and his fingers stutter, and then his lips are at your ear.

"How do you want me, mesh'la?"

"Like this," you breathe. "I want to ride you."

His breath hisses through his teeth, and his fingers speed up. The change in pace is enough to make your head spin, and the noises coming from your mouth are embarrassing. You sound desperate, and you are.

"Fuck, Rex."

"So good," he hums. "Such a good girl."

A third finger slides in beside the other two, and the stretch makes your back arch. You're not sure when he had the chance to slick his fingers with your wetness, but he must have. He's not hurting you, and the feeling is incredible.

"Rex, I'm gonna—"

"Not yet," he cuts you off.

"Please, I need to—"

"You'll wait," he growls, and the command is enough to make your toes curl.

"Please," you beg. "I'll be good, I promise, just—oh!"

Your plea is cut off by a sharp cry of pleasure, and your walls flutter around his fingers, your hips rocking back and forth.

"I said not yet."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, and the words come out strangled. "I couldn't help it, you feel so good."

He hums, his thumb finding your clit, and the stimulation is almost too much. His lips find yours, and his free hand holds you steady as his fingers move inside of you.

You writhe on top of him, your legs shaking, and you can feel the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, and it's all too much.

"Please," you beg, and you're not even sure what you're asking for.

"What do you need?"

"Please," you gasp.

"Use your words, cyar'ika. What do you need?"

"I need— ah! I need you. I need more. Please."

He's torturing you, you realize. He's doing it on purpose, making you beg, punishing you for how you teased him earlier, and the thought of it makes your cunt throb.

"You've been so good for me, mesh'la. You think you've earned it?"

"Yes," you hiss. "I'll be good. Please, Rex, I'll be a good girl."

He can't say no, not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your lips are parted and your cheeks are flushed, and the look in your eyes is so desperate.

"Okay," he concedes.

You let out a sound of relief, and his fingers are slipping out of you. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth, and the action is enough to make you groan. You rise off of him, legs trembling, and hurriedly push your panties down and toss them aside.

He looks up at you, and there's awe in his eyes, a reverence, as his hands settle on your hips to guide you back to him. Your hand wraps around his cock, lining him up, and the two of you gasp as his head breaches your entrance.

"Take your time," he whispers. “You don’t have to—fuck!”

You sink down, taking him fully in one smooth motion, and Rex can't stop the low, guttural moan that escapes.

"You said to take my time," you say, and there's a cheeky lilt to your voice. He opens his mouth to argue, but the words die in his throat. "So I took my time."

You can't stop the grin. The look on his face is almost too much. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest is heaving. His lips are swollen from the kisses, his eyes wide and his pupils blown. He looks good like this, you think, and you've never seen him so undone.

"Cyar'ika," he finally manages.

You hum, circling your hips, and his grip on you tightens. Your pace is slow, savoring this feeling unlike anything you've ever experienced. He's bigger than anything you've ever had inside of you before, filling you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You're still adjusting to him, and your movements are slow, but they're steady, and you can't help the soft whimpers and gasps.

Rex is struggling to breathe. Your heat is so warm and so wet, your walls are clenching around him, and the sight of you is almost too much. The way your head is tipped back, your eyes closed and your mouth open, the sounds you’re making, and the way his cock is disappearing inside of you over and over again, it's all so much. He can't believe this is happening.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse. You gasp before pushing on his shoulders, and his back hits the mattress. You lean over him, your hands reaching to grasp the headboard, and the new angle makes the both of you exhale. It also makes your breasts hang tantalizingly in his face.

Rex is not one to waste an opportunity.

He leans up and closes his lips around one of your nipples, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck. Your pace speeds up, and his hands grip your hips tightly, helping to guide you.

"Oh, kriff," you gasp.

He releases your nipple with a pop and moves his attention to the other, and the sound you make is almost enough to make him come right then. He can’t help but shift his hips, moving them up and down in time with your thrusts, and you pull away from him to give him a look of warning.

"Stay still," you order.

"Or what?"

You raise an eyebrow, and Rex shivers. You're not sure what makes him react like that, but it sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

"I'll stop."

His jaw drops, and his eyes widen. "You wouldn't," he says.

"That’s an order, Captain," you say, and his cock twitches inside of you. You can't help the wicked smile. You’re learning a lot about him today.

"You're the worst."

"You love it," you retort.

His hands move to your waist, and he pulls you closer.

"I love you," he breathes.

You can feel yourself clench around him at his words, and he hisses through his teeth.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Your lips meet his, and his tongue slides into your mouth as his hands roam your body. You can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, his lips are warm, and his breath is hot, and his body is so close to yours, the feeling is overwhelming.

He's everything.

"I love you," he says again, his voice hoarse.

"I love you, Rex."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"It's true," you gasp.

His hips stutter, and you pull away, giving him a look of warning, and his jaw clenches.

"Sorry, cyar'ika. I couldn't help it."

"I know."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Wh— ah!"

You cry out as his fingers find your clit, and your walls flutter. The movement sends pleasure shooting through you, and your legs shake, the pace of your hips unsteady.

"That's it," he coos. "Come for me."

"Not yet," you gasp. "Need you to— oh, fuck, Rex."

His hips snap up, meeting your thrusts, and the new pace is relentless. He's chasing his own release, and you're right there with him. You can't take it anymore.

"Please, please, I can't—"

"Go ahead," he urges.

You can't stop the cry that tumbles from your lips. You can feel the orgasm building, and your hips are bucking wildly.

"I can't—I can't," you sob.

"Come for me, cyar'ika. Come on my cock."

The words are enough to send you over the edge, and he swallows your cries of pleasure. You're trembling above him, your nails are digging into his skin, and the pressure of his fingers against your clit is enough to make your hips jerk.

"Kriff, I can feel you," he breathes. "Your little pussy is squeezing me so tightly."

"Please," you beg. You're not even sure what you're begging him for.

All you know is that he feels so good, and you're so sensitive, and the sensations are too much and not enough.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Good girl."

"I can't, I can't, I can't-"

"Shh, shh, it's okay."

He's so gentle even as he sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the end of your channel, and his fingers are rubbing frantic circles around your clit.

The pressure is almost painful, but it feels so good.

"Oh, fuck, Rex," you cry out.

"Come again," he demands.

"I can't," you protest. "It's too much."

"You can," he counters. "Do it for me."

The words send a thrill through you, and you can feel the pleasure building. Your walls are fluttering around him, your hips are bucking, and you can't control the noises coming from your lips.

"That's it," he growls.

Your orgasm washes over you, and this time it's stronger, tears spilling over as his name falls from your lips over and over again. You can feel your release gushing out of you, coating his cock and the sheets below.

The sight is so filthy, but it only seems to spur him on. Rex grips your hips tight enough that you know you’ll bruise, and the thought sends another thrill through you. You want him to leave his mark. He fucks up into you with a force that has the headboard slamming against the wall, and his thrusts are losing their rhythm.

"I'm so close," he breathes.

You're barely coherent, but you can't help but latch on, his words sending another rush of heat through you. "You gonna come for me, Captain?"

He shudders, and his eyes flutter shut, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He can't find the words.

"You've been so good for me," you purr breathlessly. "Let go."

You can see the tension leaving his shoulders, his jaw slack. His breath is coming in shallow gasps, and his thrusts are unsteady. He's teetering on the edge, and all it takes is a few more words from you.

"Fill me up."

"Cyar'ika," he warns.

"Do it," you order.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he breathes. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming, I'm—"

He curses, his head falling back against the pillow, and his cock pulses as he spills inside of you, his hands tight on your hips to hold you down. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, and the sensation is enough to make the corners of your vision darken.

"I can feel it," you murmur. "I can feel you, kriff, Rex."

He groans, his arms pulling you down, and you collapse against his chest. You're not sure how long you stay like that, just holding each other. You can't feel anything except him, his hands running up and down your spine, and his lips pressed to the top of your head.

“So,” you say after a while, and he can hear the smugness in your voice.

You tilt your head, and the look he gives you is withering.

"Don't start," he warns.

"Captain, huh? I didn't know that was your thing"

"That's not—"

"What? You don't want to talk about the fact that your cock gets hard when I call you Captain?"

On cue, the appendage in question twitches, and Rex closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not— ugh, kriff," he mutters.

You can't stop the laughter that bubbles up.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," you coo.

"Don't patronize me," he says, but the words have no heat behind them.

"I'd never dream of it, sir."

You can see the blush rising in his cheeks, and his eyes darken.

"That's an order," he grumbles.

You lean up, brushing your lips against his, and the touch is soft and gentle. He melts into it, his hands resting on your waist.

"Yes, Captain," you say.

"I can't—kriff. You can't say things like that, mesh'la." His expression is pained, and the sound that escapes him is almost a whine.

"You're right," you agree. "I can do better."

He raises an eyebrow, and his jaw drops as your fingers wrap around his wrist. His eyes follow the motion as you pull his hand between your thighs. You let out a satisfied moan as his fingers dip between your folds, and he can't tear his gaze away from the sight of his seed dripping from your cunt when his softening cock slides out of you.

"You're a mess," he says reverently.

"I'm a mess because of you."

He hums, his fingers gathering some of his spend and sliding it back into you.

"Is this what you were imagining, Captain?"

He shudders at the title, and his hips cant, his cock stirring to life.

You can't help the grin. "It is, isn't it?"

"You're terrible," he growls.

"Oh, I'm not terrible. I'm the best you've ever had."

He lets out a breathless laugh. "You're the only one I've ever had," he admits.

You pull back, staring at him in surprise, and the look on his face is unreadable.

"Are you— are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," he says, brow raised.

"But--"

"Cyare, I've only ever wanted you." His words are simple, and they're said with a conviction that steals the breath from your lungs.

"Oh."

You're speechless. You're not sure what you'd imagined the past few months. You're not even sure if you'd ever given much thought to it, but the idea that you're the only person who has ever made him feel like this is dizzying.

"I've loved you for a very long time," he confesses, and the words make your heart ache. "I never thought—kriff, I never thought you'd feel the same."

"I love you," you say firmly. "So much."

He grins, and the smile is so wide that his cheeks are dimpling. You can't resist. You lean down to kiss him again, and the way he holds you, like you're the most precious thing in the world, makes the feeling in your chest bloom.

"I'll say it every day for the rest of our lives, if that's what you need," you say.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he murmurs.

"I wouldn't," you promise.

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze intense, and his grip tightens. You can see him steeling himself, and the words he speaks make you shiver.

"Good, because I intend to marry you someday."

"Someday," you echo. You're not sure if you believe him, if that's even possible for you, but you believe that he believes it.

"When the war is over," he confirms. "When the fighting is done, and we've finally got a chance at peace, I'll give you the galaxy, cyare. And a family, if you want one."

"Rex, I—" You swallow thickly, and he can see the emotions flickering across your face. His fingers are drawing shapes on your hip, and his eyes are locked with yours.

"I'm not asking for an answer now," he says gently. "I just— I want you to know how serious I am."

You nod, and the silence that stretches between you is heavy.

"You really mean it," you finally say.

"Of course I do."

"What happens if—"

"There is no 'if.'" His tone leaves no room for argument, and he shifts, sitting up. The new position brings you into his lap, and your knees are straddling his waist. He rests his forehead against yours, and his breath fans across your face.

"Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"Together," you murmur.

"I'm with you. Always."

You close the distance, kissing him softly. It's nice, holding him like this. The feeling of his arms around you is enough to drive the fears from your mind, pushing them to the furthest corners. You can feel yourself relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders, and his hands roam your body, exploring every inch.

"You know," you begin, your voice quiet, and your lips brush against his with every word. "I'm still waiting for a tour of the barracks, Captain. Oh, the hangar too."

His breath hitches, and you can feel him starting to harden again under you.

"Cyare," he breathes.

"I'd love to see your office," you continue, and his eyes darken. "You can give me a private tour, just the two of us. I'll wear a skirt, and you can bend me over your desk."

His cock is fully erect now, and he can't stop the groan.

"And the showers," you purr, gently rotating your hips. "I bet they're big. Just big enough for the two of us. We could get the water nice and hot, and I could drop to my knees..."

"Kriff," he swears.

"Or…"

He's breathing heavily, his fingers digging into your skin.

"We could do that now," you offer.

"Cyare." His tone is pleading, and the sound sends a thrill through you. You can feel the ache building between your legs, and your thighs are sticky.

"I'm already dripping wet," you whisper.

"That's it."

He moves so fast that it makes you yelp, and the next thing you know, he's on his feet, carrying you, and your legs are wrapped around his waist. He walks swiftly towards the 'fresher, and the feeling of him sliding against your core makes you shudder.

"You're going to be the death of me, cyare," he murmurs.

"Maybe," you concede. "But I think we can agree that it'll be a great way to go."

The door slides shut behind him, and the sound of his laughter is enough to make you melt.

"A great way to go," he echoes.

You know the path ahead of you is treacherous. You know there will be more battles, and more losses, and more nights where you're unable to sleep. You know there will be pain, and fear, and sorrow.

But there will be hope too, and joy, and happiness. A home, and a family, and a future.

It will be worth it.

#captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x you #rex x you #clone x reader #clone smut #x reader #clone captain rex #i literally had a dream about rex last night so it's time to pull the plug and post this #roy writes

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rottin6 · 5 months

Text

mdni. 18+ | pornstar jegulus.

“m’gonna make you a star.”

james adjusts the lens of his camera, zooming in on the new boy’s lips, catching the way he darts his tongue out to taste the gloss. the younger boy nervously giggles underneath him, resting back on the bed on his elbows, batting his eyelashes. james’ eyes are wide above him, a wide grin on his face. “gonna make you a real fuckin’ star.” he repeats, his knee lowering down on the bed as he positions the camera right, grabbing the other boy by his jaw. “look here, sweets, ‘n’ tell us your name and age, hm?”

regulus bites down on his lower lip, his eyes low as he looks into the camera, taking a sneaking glance at the man behind the camera. he runs his hands over his body, his fingers rubbing at his nipples, “well, uh, you can call me baby.” he licks his lips once more, relishing under the camera and the eyes of the man behind. “and i’m nineteen.” he seals with a little kiss at the camera, gulping nervously.

“nineteen, is that right?” james mutters with a light shake of his head. “just a fuckin’ baby, aren’t you?” he kneels further down on the bed, his hand coming into the view of the camera as his fingers reach out for regulus’ throat, wrapping around and pushing him down off his elbows. the camera zooms in on his nipples, following his fingers that play with the piercings then move to the silver pendant that hangs off a chain around his neck. “so goddamn pretty.” james comments, not knowing if it’s for the camera or himself.

the camera’s back on his face soon enough, james removing the grip he has on regulus’ throat and reaching up to stroke his cheek softly. he plunges his thumb into his mouth then, no warning given, and regulus takes it in. he sucks on it, his tongue licking all around for the camera but his eyes are on james. “good boy.” james murmurs before pulling his thumb out and lightly hitting the side of his face. “bend over f’me, yeah? show everyone what you’re hiding under these little shorts.”

regulus brings his finger to his mouth, wiping off the saliva with a slow nod. he turns over on the bed, hands reaching behind him to pull the thin fabric higher up his ass. he shows off the curve, his head buried in the pillow below him as he lets out a slight giggle. he hears a tut from behind him and james sucks in a breath, his hand slapping down on the flesh. “look how pretty he is.” he murmurs, his rough hand stroking over regulus’ shorts before pushing the fabric aside. “y’doing so good, baby, just gonna open you up, yeah?”

james angles the camera lens down at himself, his hand reaching into the waistband of his jeans while he balances the camera on his shoulder. he pulls out his thick cock and it makes a sloppy sound when it springs out. regulus releases a shaky breath, his back arching, preparing himself. “this your first time getting fucked on camera, pretty?” james murmurs, his hand slicking over his cock, pumping it a few times as he aligns it with regulus’ dripping hole. the younger boy nods, his nails digging into the bedsheets. “fuck—just, hold on, baby.”

james holds the camera up, the only sound being the shitty air conditioning of the casting room and his heavy breathing. he bends slightly, spreading regulus’ asscheeks before grazing the tip of his thumb over the hole, not yet shoving it inside. instead, he circles over the area, rubbing it softly and then some more. he curses when the cloth of his shorts falls back and gets in the way so he pulls them off, prepping his cock now. he rubs over it a couple times, a coy smile on his lips when he sees regulus wiggle his hips for the camera. he lifts his cock, resting it on regulus’ back almost like a measurement to see how deep he’ll fit inside and he lets out a throaty chuckle. he holds the tip of his dick, watching through the lens, skimming over the boy’s dripping hole before forcing it inside. he lets out a low grunt when he hears regulus moan softly, watching the way his head falls further into the pillow, muffling his noises.

“gonna make you a fuckin’ star, baby.” james huffs out, his thrusts increasing in pace as he lifts the camera when regulus looks behind, lips stretching into a teasing smile with his eyes all glossy.

#cam sex go brrr #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #jfp #rab #marauders #starchaser #sunseeker #layla writes #marauders smut #jegulus smut #p!star jegulus #jegulus cam sex universe

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arcanesea · 24 days

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beautiful

PAIRING: bang chan x reader GENRE: established relationship, fluff WC: 624 WARNINGS: detailed mention of insecurities

“how are you so beautiful?” you blurted out of the blue. you were lying comfortably in chan's lap, getting distracted by his ethereal features. his hand stops stroking your hair, peeling his eyes from the cartoon playing on the TV. you offer him a sheepish smile, like those lovesick teenagers.

“are you saying that because i actually am or because you just like me?” he teases you. he can’t lie though, his heart skips a beat when you voice out the question so casually, so innocently. he never knew how to take on a compliment, and you don’t necessarily make it sound like one by the way you candidly say those kinds of things in your mundane routine.

you click your tongue, repressing a smile that’s about to bloom.

“i mean it, you know,” you continue saying. he chuckled before lowering his head to kiss your forehead.

“thank you?” he said more like a question. and you’re holding back from rolling your eyes. one of those days, you’d let it slide (you have tons more compliments to throw at him anyway), but today was not one of those days as you sit up from your position, adjusting yourself to face him. his hand hangs mid-air, throwing you a confused look.

you take it with both hands, placing it in front of your heart (in hopes of sharing all of your truest feelings with the man you love the most).

“listen, channie,” you start, you scoot forward to him until your knees are touching the side of his thighs. you sigh, thinking, this would be so cheesy, but you’d do anything to make this man see what you see every day. “you’re beautiful, the most beautiful person i ever met, the most beautiful person alive.”

“how?” he asks again. because for him, beauty is subjective, it’s a preference.

you look at him for a moment, you want to whip out your diaries, reading all of the entries about him. his eyes search for yours amidst the silence and that’s when it struck you—

“your eyes,” you start again, feeling warmth dominate your heart as you gaze into those pair of russet brown irises. “it’s the color of autumn, when you stand under the sun, it turns into a brighter, honey color. and it’s sweet, and it gives me a sense of home.” he smiled and there was a crinkle on the corner of his eyes that showed his sincerity.

“you look even more beautiful when you smile” you bring a hand closer to his face, poking the dimple that complements his smile. “this is practically my favorite feature.”

and if his eyes are autumn, then his smile is spring. the way he’s able to bring the energy just by smiling is astonishing to you.

you place a hand on his cheek. and warmth radiates from the spot you touched. like the summer sun, without the overbearing heat. and it’s cute and you still have a lot in your pocket.

and he can read you because he quickly pulls your body, enveloping you in a snug embrace that could save you from the excruciating cold in winter.

“don’t say anything more please,” he said shyly. you smile, placing your face in the crook of his neck. you would do this a thousand times more. you would shout about how beautiful he is from the top of the building if you could.

he smiled as he pressed a kiss to the side of your hair. his heart filled to the brim with emotion; pride, joy, love, and awe. and he wonders if it’s possible to be more content than this moment right now.

and oh, how you pledged yourself to shower him with all the love he deserves.

a/n. i think this was inspired by one of his bbl messages i am soooooo whipped for this man it's unbearable.

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pretty-circa006 · 2 months

Text

Livestream

Sugar Daddy! Coach! Negan x Cam girl! F! Reader

summary Negan stays true to his promise tags smut, unprotected p in v, multiple cream pies, breeding kink i guess, vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, pet-names, dirty talk, age gap

wc 2.9k words

previous parts: 1 , 2

note here's the final part, finally! i am so so so so so sorry i took forever uploading this. i was having the worst writers block, but i think im finally over it! i hope this was worth the wait P.S. im so sorry if i missed any mistakes while proofreading, it's 3am and im sleepy as fuck

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

“You look so sexy in this, baby,” Negan whispers in her ear as they stand in front of her full length mirror. When Negan arrived to her apartment earlier, he brought her some gifts—a bouquet of flowers and new lingerie.

“Really? I never thought I looked good in pink,” she replies. Negan’s hands slide down her body and grasp her hips, pulling her closer into him. He leans down and kisses along her jaw to her neck until she giggles at the feeling of his facial hair tickling her soft skin

“You look fuckin’ perfect in anything.” He pulls her in for a lingering kiss before sitting down on her bed. She stays in front of the mirror, admiring herself in the lingerie. It’s a pink flyaway babydoll that’s frilly on the ends and completely see-through, finished with a little bow at the center of the bra part.

“Ready to do this livestream?” he asks, looking up at her from beneath his long, dark lashes. She makes her way over to him and climbs into his lap, straddling him. His hands slide up her back before pulling her down to meet his lips by the back of her neck. She wraps her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as she grinds herself against the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You trying to make me cum before we even get started?” he asks with a raised brow after pulling away from her lips. She smiles before sneaking one more quick kiss. He misses the warmth of her body on his when she gets up to set her phone up on the little tripod she bought with some of the money he gave her.

“Ready?” she asks as she adjusts it.

He nods his head as he unbuckles his belt. “C’mere, babydoll.” She begins the stream and rushes over to him. His eyes are full of lust as he looks up at her, admiring her body.

“On your knees,” he commands gently. With her back still facing the camera, she lowers herself to her knees, coming face to face his bulge. She undoes his jeans and he lifts his hips so she can pull them down along with his boxer briefs. His large, hardened cock springs free, slapping against his abdomen.

“I’ve been waiting so long to feel it in person,” she comments before placing a gentle kiss to the tip. He caresses the side of her face before smacking his cock against her lips, spreading his precum on them like lipgloss. She licks her lips before taking his tip into her mouth. He breathes in sharply, feeling her soft hands stroking what isn’t in her mouth. She swirls her tongue around him before taking more of his shaft into her mouth, feeling each vein sliding across her tongue.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he praises. She hollows her cheeks as she bobs her head up and down the length of him, gripping either of his thighs for support.

“Holy fuck, I thought you were a virgin.”

With innocent eyes, she looks up at him before taking the entirety of him down her throat. She gags, but only once and it feels so good around him. He leans back, supporting himself on his hands as he lets her suck him off. Profanities spill from his mouth and his breathing grows quick and shallow. He can’t hold himself back anymore and grabs the hair at the back of her head. Negan holds on to her hair tightly as his hips lift with every thrust he fucks into her face.

“Fuck, baby, fuck. I’m gonna fuckin’ come down your throat.” She doesn’t need his words to know that he’s close. She can feel his cock twitch inside her mouth and his grip tighten in her hair.

“Ah fuck,” he swears before emptying his load down her throat. He pulls out of her mouth with a pop. She looks up at him, admiring his flushed face and lustful eyes. His hand grips her jaw, forcing her mouth open.

“Swallowed that shit like a goddamn pro,” he admires. She smiles and stands up on her knees, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. Pulling him close, she connects their lips. Negan pulls her into his lap without breaking the kiss. As their tongues mingle in each other's mouths, Negan can taste himself. He removes himself from her lips and kisses a trail down her throat until he reaches her sternum. Negan slides the thin straps of her lingerie down her arms and pulls it down, freeing her breasts and bunching it at her waist. He takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened nipple while teasing the other with his free hand. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she tosses her head back, moaning in pleasure. Slowly, she grinds her hips against him, feeling every detail of his dick through her thin panties. Without warning, he turns her around so her back is against his chest. Her core aches so bad with the desperation to be filled that she doesn't even care if her face is in the camera or not. She leans her head back over his shoulder and presses delicate kisses against his jaw. His large hands slides down her body, stopping at the waistband of her panties, but instead of pulling them down like a normal person, he rips the sheer fabric in half, tearing them off her body.

"Those were new!" she complains.

"Shhh, I'll buy you something even better," he whispers in her ear before playfully nipping at the lobe.

With one arm, he lifts her legs by the backs of her knees, pressing them against her chest and putting her bare pussy on full display. His free hand comes down to rub tight, fast circles against her clit. She gasps and arches her back, her eyes screwing shut from the pleasure. His fingers slide down her folds, coating them in her arousal before bringing his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of her fluids.

"Been waitin' so long to taste you baby. Fuckin' delicious!" he praises. Her only response comes out in the form of a breathy moan. Two of his thick fingers enter her pussy and the way he could feel it stretching to accommodate him brought a smirk to his face.

"Baby, you're so goddamn tight," he whispers before pressing his lips to her neck, sucking a mark onto her soft skin. She whimpers when she feels the rough pads of his fingers pressing against her g-spot.

"Ah! Negan!" she yelps, her fingers gripping the comforter of her bed. He slips in a third finger and she tenses, sucking in a sharp, pained breath through her teeth.

"C'mon, princess, I know you can take it," his raspy voice encourages as he distracts her from the pain by playing with her clit with his thumb. His thrusts are slow while he waits for her to grow comfortable with the stretch and once he feels her relax against his body, he knows she's there and quickens his pace. Her breathing becomes shallow as the coil in her stomach comes close to bursting.

"Please, Negan, please! I'm so close."

"What'd I tell you about patience? Hm?"

"Negan!" she protests, tears burning in her eyes as he slows his pace, making her fall from the peak of orgasm she almost reached.

"Not just yet. I wanna feel you coming on my cock."

"I can do both! Just please lemme come now," she begs, tears now cascading down her cheeks.

"Look at you. So desperate for me to fuck this tiny pussy with my fingers." Without warning, he enters another finger, earning a pleasured scream from her. He could feel her legs shaking as he brought her close to her orgasm once again. Her toes flex and curl in the air as her orgasm tears through her body. Negan continues to fuck her with his fingers until he feels her relax against him.

He gently sets her legs down and holds her in his lap, giving her a minute to catch her breath.

"You did so good for me, baby," he whispers soothingly in her ear. She turns around in his lap and turns to face him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Now will you fuck me?" she asks, batting the lashes of her pleading, doe eyes at him. He cups her cheek in his large hand and wipes at her fallen tears.

"Of course. I can't resist you for another goddamn minute."

With faux innocence, she smiles at him before grabbing his hand, the one he fingered her with, and begins sucking her juices off his fingers. As she does, she grinds her bare pussy over his once again hardened cock, feeling every vein drag along her sensitive folds.

"Keep doin' that and I'm gonna fuckin' come again and won't have it in me to stuff that tight pussy of yours."

She pouts reaches for the bottom of his black t-shirt instead. He lifts his arms and allows her to pull it over his head. She runs her hands up his strong chest before pressing kisses on it, occasionally leaving marks across his body. His hands caress her soft body before gently maneuvering her off his lap and onto the bed. She watches him expectantly as he stands and rids himself of the rest of his clothing. The look of lustful admiration in her eyes is flattering to Negan, but he can also see a slight fear in them. He caresses the side of her face with his hands and gently tilts her head to look up at him.

"It's okay, baby, I'll be gentle," he reassures. She lays back against her pillows as he crawls over her, trapping her between his arms. He leans down and meets her lips in a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck as she slides her tongue in his mouth. A gasp escapes her lips when she feels his tip sliding across her folds. Negan can tell she's nervous, so he continues kissing her as a distraction from the impending intrusion. He lines himself up with her entrance and she tenses at the slight stretch of his tip.

"You took four fingers just fine, but you're still nervous?" She rolls her eyes earning a chuckle from him.

"I'm jus' teasin' ya, baby, relax." He kisses her collar bone before kissing down to her breasts, taking one in his mouth to further distract her. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she moans at the sensation of his tongue flicking at her nipple. Her moans intensify as he slides himself in as slowly as he can. His four fingers have nothing on his dick, but they did help prep her for its largeness because it doesn't hurt as much as she anticipated.

He pulls away from her nipple and begins slowly thrusting in and out of her. Her warm, wet cunt squeezes him so tight that he can hardly resist fucking into her like a madman, but he wants her to enjoy her first time just as much as he's enjoying it. Her smooth legs wrap around his hips, as if she were silently begging for more. His larger hands grasped her smaller ones, intertwining his fingers with hers as he fucked her harder. Negan’s long lashes kiss his cheeks as his eyes fluter shut, the pleasure overtaking him. His face is flushed and breathing shallow and god, he looks so beautiful.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight.”

“M gonna come,” she wines, her hands squeezing his, similar to the way her cunt is squeezing his cock.

Negan is about to pull out, but her legs around his waist keep him from doing so.

“Come inside me.”

He seems hesitant for a moment, but that quickly goes away when he bottoms out inside of her, filling her with his cum as she screams his name, her own orgasm bringing her to pleasure’s peak. She thought this was it, they both made each other come and now she’d just lay in his arms, but Negan flipping her over and positioning her on all fours tells her that she was mistaken. He spreads apart her asscheeks, watching the way his cum oozes out of her fucked out cunt. He steps away for a second and she watches him in confusion.

“Watcha doin’?”

But she doesn’t need a response because her question is answered when he comes back with the phone camera in hand, pointed at his hardening dick. She feels the mattress dip behind her when he gets back on the bed. She shudders at the feeling of his thick fingers spreading open her sensitive folds, mixed with the feeling of his hot cum dripping from her cunt down her inner thigh.

“Look at this fuckin’ cream pie. None of you sorry sacks of shit could fill this pussy like I do,” he boasts to the viewers as he films her up close.

“Mmmm Negan, I need you,” she whines.

“How could I say no to this perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

He kneads the soft flesh of her ass with the hand that isn’t holding the camera before bringing his hand to his cock, lining it up with her entrance once again. He thrusts all the way in this time, not needing her to adjust to his size. His cock gets her in all the right spots. She can feel every detail of it gliding against her velvety walls as he fucks her. This time he's really fucking her. He was sweet and gentle when taking her virginity the first time around, almost as if they were making love, almost. But he can't hold himself back from the primitive desire to pound into her until her legs are shaking and the only thoughts she can conjure are of him. His free hand holds her hip in a bruising grip as he records his dick coming in and out of her cunt. Her arms shake with the struggle of holding herself up before she finally gives out, falling face first into the mattress.

"Negan 'mgonnacome," she whines, the sound muffled by her face being in the mattress.

“Just hang on, baby,” he grunts.

“Ah! Negan,” she moans, her hands fisting her sheets as her legs shake. Had Negan not been holding on to her, she’d have collapsed ages ago. The springs of her mattress squeak in unison with his hips smacking against her ass.

“Oh, baby, you’ve ruined any other pussy for me,” he says between pants. Once again, she feels that familiar feeling she’s growing to love of Negan coming inside of her. Her legs give out and she collapses onto her mattress as she comes in unison with Negan. Behind her, Negan lays down on her bed, catching his breath as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He stares up at the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut with the feeling of sleep entering his body. His eyes lazily flutter back open at the feeling of him being watched and he comes face to face her, looking down at him with lust filled eyes.

“I wanna go again.”

Negan runs a hand over his face, half sighing half laughing.

“Again? We already went two times.” She runs a hand along his chest, combing her finger through his chest hair.

“Please?” Her hand slides up his throat before caressing his cheek, moving her thumb across his cheekbone. He relaxes into her touch, looking up at her softly with his hazel eyes. She leans down and gently pecks him on the lips.

“You know I can’t say no to you.” She kisses him again, deeper this time, earning a grunt from the man beneath her. He can feel her smiling though the kiss.

“But I don’t think I have another round in me.”

“It’s okay,” she straddles his lap, “I’ll do all the work,” she mumbles sleepily.

She takes his semi-hard length in her hand and lines it up with her entrance before easily sinking down on it. He slides in effortlessly and she feels so good around him. He lets out a sigh of relaxation and his eyes roll back. Using her knees, she slowly lifts herself up off him, so slowly he feels like she’s taunting him. She sinks back down onto him and he hits her g-spot just right.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He watches her as she rides him, staring at her tits as they bounce in unison with her. His eyes are so full of lust and admiration that he can’t help the sexy dimpled smirk that spreads across his face. Her cunt squeezes around him and he sucks a breath in through his teeth.

“You gonna come again, aren't you babygirl,” he asks, feeling his own orgasm approaching once again. She nods her head, barely able to keep her tired eyes open, as she increases her pace, moaning his name along with other unintelligible ramblings. They come together one last time before she collapses against his chest. He reaches over for her phone and ends the livestream before tossing it aside.

“You did so good for me, babydoll,” he whispers soothingly as he rubs his hand up and down her bare back. Her heavy breathing and lack of response tell him that she’s already fallen asleep. He presses a kiss to the top of her head before shutting his own eyes.

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